sunday shpill.

 

meet the classic davis sister pose, folks.

 

guess there's nothing i don't 

like about october.

you know those people who are dedicated to their blog and keep it up

regularly and update it like they actually have a destined purpose in having a blog?  hm. well, that's not me. 

i didn't even like blogs... aaand then i got one. is that hypocritical?

well, here, i'll act like i've been a constant updater.

 i dropped my camera three times this week, haven't slept with a pillow in two weeks and haven't run in a month. chris has been reading poetry to me and moriah hunted me down and read c.s. 

i like it when she does that. 

as far as politics go, herman i like and perry has a winning smile, but has an arrogance that makes me forget he ever smiled in the first place. 

yesterday i saw a man in the middle of two fields. he stood on a dirt road in overalls and a straw hat and from his mouth puffed white curls of pipe smoke.  i took a picture of him in my mind and hung it up in my mental hall of portraits. this is 

a very big hall like one you'd see at mr. darcy's pemberley.

now i've about exhausted my impromptu session with blogging but i'll leave you with wisdom.  

a man in our church said to me, ' i'll give you some advice: 

when someone writes you a love note,

don't edit it for grammar and give it back to the person.'

i said i wouldn't. 

you probably shouldn't either.