Something About Nothing

Ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamnt of watching fluffy ballerinas in their pointy pink shoes flying on stage, jumping like African antelopes into the arms of some equally agile creature with buns-of-steel (Note that the buns-of-steel idea came after puberty). I dreamnt of living in a foreign land and seeing foreign things that would set sparks in my head. New smells. New sights. New experiences. New wonders. I wondered what it would be like to be sitting under a tree that had shades of red, ocra, magenta, burnt orange and bright yellow. I imagined days sitting in front of a fire on a cold winter night.

... And two blokes in front of me talking about football.

Well, not really the latter. Just happens that my flatmate's walked in with his mate talking in ... a very foreign way. Strange to my ears obviously. Normal to this country.

I'm happy. Very happy. There's much to be thankful for. Good family. Good partner. Good friends. Good wine. Good food. Oy, there's lots to be thankful for.

Sure, things don't always work my way but you know it usually works alright in the end. I don't know how. I don't know when (and trust me, sometimes I wish I do know when). But life works in an amazingly interesting way. This blog did. Well, me baking. Pfft. That's really weird. But I'm happy. Take good care people. I hope you're happy too.

Love,
Monkee Girl