I thought you were dead.

But you're not. You've just gone underground. A bit. When I read the part about no comments and no numbers, it felt like a new Dogme 95. Blogging in its purest form. And I thought that was beautiful. And inspired. Well, it inspired me anyway. Not that I'm going to jettison my comments. Or my statcounter. Or any of my silly baggage.

But I'm glad you're still there. When you hit your stride, dancing in the street like that, you are one of the loveliest voices I have ever heard. You with your keys and your cats and your Russian place. (Did you have the borscht? Was it the place with a black and white floor and big glass cases?)

I thought I'd roll you onto my list of ones to watch. And then I thought, naaah, this is private stuff. I'm not even sure I'm supposed to see it. But when you are so true- so faithfully human- how can I look away? C.S. Lewis said one of my favorite things ever- "We read to know we are not alone." Maybe you write for the same reason.

You do your thing. I love how not-neat it all is. And I'm glad you're there. So glad.

I'm not the only one who can't really keep it all together.

Fixed, A Lot of Stuff Is

I do have grandparents, you know. And though I don't think I'll evuh EVUH be in the mood to wear that Bible belt again, I could allow that a transcendent, immortal being might choose to interact with americuns (and if your faith is boldly condescending enough, that being might choose to interact with those foreigners, too.) And I will allow that this *if I keep breathing in through my nose this Mary Poppins way, without breathing out again, the wind will certainly change directions and we all know what happens then- no more spoonful of sugar or something equally upsetting* digression is an act of my own will. However! That aforementioned being might choose not to be a pooper.

Might, might, might.

I, on the other hand- lowly human being that I is- I have to go to the bathroom regularly or things get a mite uncomfortable. Nurses begin to take an interest in my bottom line. *yes, wow, that was hmmmm. ward of the state slowing down on these church sanctioned drugs or somesuch nonsense. seriously? we don't have anything better for this kinda sitch?*

Yeah, so to review:
Might, might, might & mite, mite, mite. Did I hear a suggestion that I shrink even more?

Weird. Truly. But I'm still Honest +
and I bet I'm still Popular. That's got to be worth something to somebody. Perhaps, me?

Evil:

It's boring. (And it hurts!)

I Love Peaches! (That's All I Wanted To Say)