A year that is new. Still sitting by the big screen TV window.
I have a sticky, stinky urge to plop a new thing into the world. Yes. Like a baby. But not a baby. The kind of spawn that is of a more figurative nature.
If I were a leprechaun, I would be a rainbow-gold-guardian-in-training. I would have to wear one of those embarrassing trainee badges, and all of the qualified leprechauns would chuckle a bit at the sight of me: hat on a sideways, coat-tails tucked into my knee-highs, half of my mustache left unshaven. Oh the leprechaun world, it’s not for the faint of heart.
A year that is new. Still sitting by the window. Relieved I’m a Dana and not a leprechaun.