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| One of my garden's beauties. |
Excuse her.
Excuse me.
Because the secret that she is taunting you about is… “It’s my
birthday!”
Yes, April 22 saw the birth of your Chloe Stowe 42 years ago and isn’t
the world a madder place because of it?
42 is a magnificent number, especially when you were convinced you’d
never see the age of 14. (I had convinced myself when I was about 10 that I had
a fatal heart condition and that there was no way I’d ever reach 14. Seriously.
Dead serious, I’m afraid. *sighs*
This was one of the first signs of the madness I brought with me into the
world. I was a jolly little child. *lol*)
Anyhow, that is why I’m late posting the morning blog today. I actually
slept in past sunrise. That hasn’t happened since the middle of January. But a brand spanking new 42 year old deserves
some leeway in this I suppose.
I’m hoping to get a tiny bit of writing done today, perhaps tucked in
between switching email accounts thanks to my friendly neighborhood hacker and
checking on my poor car’s diagnosis from the body shop.
Of course there is also the matter of presents to address. There’s a
gorgeous collection of wrapped goodies on my mantle that will need to be opened
today. Such drudgery.
*smirks*
Hopefully, I will have a spot of writing news to report to you this
evening.
Hopefully, the annoying five-year old child will be back under control
and far from the keyboard too.
No guarantees on anything, however.
After all it is my birthday!
Until tonight…
Chloe
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