Sunday, July 26, 2009
"...its shell as rusty
as a camp dish,
as fragile as a pagoda
on a stone..."
From "Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound" by Anne Sexton
Back from the biz trip, and foo -- caught a summer cold. Lost my voice during Day Two of the trade show (or rather, gained a weirdly squeaky croak.) Still feeling punk, although drinking ginger tea and petting the cats helps.
I'm glad you stopped by, but don't get too close -- I might sneeze, and I'd hate for you to catch what I have.