I haven't written lately because sometimes the tough stuff is too overwhelming to put to paper. What I have felt like writing about, time and again, are the wonderful people I am blessed to call friends. If you are one of those wonderful people, I hope you find yourself in one of these paragraphs. To My Old Friends, "Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away." George Eliot Matt and I have both been blessed by enduring friendships with incredible people. You are the friends I call family. Like my family, you are the ones who know the full contents of my heart and love me in spite of myself. There is ...
Adventures of a Cockeyed Optimist