Secret Lyrics Hold Us Fairies Together

As we story and journey, sometimes it’s good to just gobblefunk a little with words.

Reader, maybe make a list of words that capture how you feel right now. I’ll start:

I feel like an armadillo (got to get across the road but somehow that sense of urgency is just not there…)

a message in a bottle bobbing down the the time stream

weary pilgrim, tired of lifting my heavy staff

slug giving virtual hugs and advice to overly complicated vertebrates

ent staring up into the rushing waters

astronaut mouse tethered a tiny spaceship staring at billions of stars

magnifying glass watching the sun turn paper below me into a soft shade of brown

cork-stopped jar etched with a fairy whose lantern is waiting for a match

thin voice dissipating in an expanding political void

secret dancer straining to hear the music, making up new lyrics as she goes.

Mourning the Queen

How odd to think that an era of this length has ended. Elizabeth was queen forever. She knew Churchill. She met thirteen US Presidents. She ruled for the entirety of my life, day by day, crisis by crisis. And her people loved her.

What next? She can’t be replaced. Charles is … well, Charles. Camilla is So-Not-Diana. William’s stiff upper lip might as well be made of granite and Kate just barely seems like more fun than William. The more lovable younger brother moved to the US with his indulged wife, who has been making a fair amount of trouble for the stiff-upper-lip-we-do-it-this-way crowd. And Andrew… oh, Andrew. I can’t say the royal family is a mess exactly, but it’s hardly ready for Prime Time.

Still, I guess we are not in position to raise much of a fuss here.

And then there’s the issue of the pee tape that Putin may or may not have in his possession. This blog supports Better Leadership All Over the Place. We will miss Queen Elizabeth.

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