Blow it up. No. Don't light a match to it. Click on it. MAKE IT BIGGER.
That's my beach. The one I go to when I want to challenge the charger, dance with death, feel alive - fiercely, ferociously alive.
I went today.
It's alright. I swam between the flags.
There is something fabulous about stories where bunnies are beaten, kittens are smacked and squirrels are cuffed and scratched by other squirrels.
Something really fabulous.
This is what I got for Christmas. A boxed limited edition of the complete tales of Beatrix Potter, with two beautiful prints of Peter Rabbit.
And a Nikkon Coolpix P6000, wot I took these fotos wif. Neat. Real neat.
Aw shucks. Thanks Bloke. Treasures to treasure forever.
Pontificating: Over the last months, more than one of my Blog Friends have pontificated on the value of their continuing to blog. It turns out that their normal sized lives had become BIG lives with much to take care of, worry about, attend to. The place where they talk knitting and chooks and even books seemed to them, all of a sudden so small compared to the big things, that they doubted their blog's worth.
And they wondered if they were being wholly honest by omitting to tell the world the big stuff. After all, even hinting at BIG stuff is giving away too much. Instead they say goodbye, or just disappear for a while.
I prefer to think of circles. Inner and outer circles. There are perhaps only 2 people gracing the heart of my sphere and perhaps 3 or 4 who sit in the next radiating ring, if I am lucky. But those that sit a little way out in the 'friendly acquaintance' circles are as important to my sense of myself as those that are close. Differently important, but important none the less.
When life is BIG we hunker down, pay attention where our attention is needed, to the inner circles.
If I am the Jupiter or even the Saturn to your Sun, then I am happy with the thin frivolous rays you direct my way via your blog, often or infrequently at your whim.
And if this is all a little deep for you - I AM ALLOWED - it is the end of the year - when pontificating is rife, even for this contrary knitter.