Reach Reach Reach

I reach out with my long arms into the night.

That was how me Dad started his book. He never did come up with a second line.

Maybe because there isn't anything to say after that.

I'm in a bubble

I'm in a bubble that started out big. It was a big bubble that rolled and bounced along the pavement and through this bubble I could smell the flowers. They didn't always survive the rain but I could smell them. Now I find that my bubble has shrunk a bit and is starting to stick to my ears and get in my hair. I have a sneaky suspicion that it has something to do with that sharp rock I rolled over. I think the sharp rock put a hole in my bubble and it started leaking. The check tire pressure light came on but quite frankly I didn't do anything about it. Now it's all non-round and floopy. I need to make me another bubble. I need to reset it.

Where's my reset bubble button?

I fell asleep replying to your message last night

As I'm sure you remember I have a habit of doing. You see, I went to Legal Seafoods with the girls and then was stuck in the subway for ages which made me miss the beginning of the debate so I didn't go to Mark's place to watch it with the opinionated intellectuals but instead got cozy on the couch but fell asleep about 3 questions into the thing which was probably a good thing because it was crap and rubbish and I remember hitting the reply button on your message and next thing I know it's 3 am and the phone is still in my hand with an indignant blinking cursor reminding me that there really wasn't a big Sardar breaking into my house and that it was all just a dream.

I seem to be waking up at 3 am a lot these days.

An apple crumble a day is definitely not wot the doctor ordered

I don't know how they got there but suddenly there were 4 apples in my fridge. I don't like apples. When faced with apples, I tend to melt them in the oven with a bit of butter, sugar, flour and graham cracker crumbs. The problem with that is that it leads to me standing in my kitchen barefoot in a nightshirt at 3 am eating apple crumble straight from the baking tin. Which, if you are familiar with my baking skills, generally just means eating mushy apples and blobs of flour held together with butter.

Sigh. It's going straight to my thighs.