Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Small Stones fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen

Jan 14: Rotating and moving my ankle back and forth seems to have erased the pain.

Jan 15: I am unable to lift my mood out of its blue funk since last Saturday’s shooting in Tucson.

Jan 16: Flip-flops, spaghetti straps, shorts all in sight on this unseasonably hot winter day.

Jan 17: I’m being very lax today: late to rise, late to workout, late to get to my desk. And it’s all quite okay.  

Jan 18: The line at the post office reached out the door while impatient customers coughed, shuffled their feet, and beat their fingers on the ledge as they waited for the one postal employee to call “Next.” 

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