Wait, I can’t do poems. Let’s call it Stream of Consciousness Sunday.

This week felt ten weeks long. Modern medicine is a wonder, but modern travel is torture, and I often use Sundays to consider all the different ways I could avoid airplanes for the rest of my life.  

Also, no surprise to anyone, the world is full of self-involved, self-righteous, ignorant individuals, which is also no modern phenomenon, as human nature has basically remained unchanged since the dawn of the species. Clearly, we will never overcome these things, and I’ve decided the most we can do is elevate our own behavior and hope it rubs off on other troubled souls. 

There’s nothing quite so wonderful, after a week like the one alluded to above, as a hot cup of coffee, a sofa full of snuggly Brittanies, and a crackling fire in the hearth. And of course, a place like GA to read and connect with people who don’t make me want to smack them (not in the fun way) or tape their mouth shut. 

Thank you, Internet. It turns out you aren’t just for porn. 

One aspect of getting older that will never cease to amaze me is being reminded of things I’ve said or done in the past which feel uncharacteristic of me now. I’ve always subscribed to the thought that while people can change, most don’t bother to try. Yet, more and more I’m being bombarded by evidence that I am changing constantly in subtle and invisible ways. 

Sometimes I channel my mother and think, “If I knew half then of what I know now…” I bet she would have loved that.

I think flavored coffee is yucky. Earl Grey does not need milk -- seriously, just stop. Have a lemon and some honey. (Kidding. Love your tea as you please.)

I can’t imagine life without meat. Not throwing shade, vegetarians, I just personally need a steak every few days, or I get twitchy. Don't judge me. I'm not making fun of your tofu. (Out loud.)

Good thing this blog is titled Life and Writing, cause I got nothing for the Writing part today. 

Lastly, venting is good for the soul. I feel better now. Thanks. Happy Sunday.