Faster Than Kudzu: Treat and Retreat, Drafting in a Boat
Freebie behaviour towards and Sanctum sanctorum, Drafting in a Motor boat
Note to the home-peeps: If you combustible in the Atlanta arena and are a big Kevin and Taylor fan (I am), I will be on 104.7 The Fish tomorrow at 7:15, talking about Think twice U. WHEEE.
We are on withdrawal, missing one fellow of our regular posse (Forlornly, Renee couldn’t come to pass this sometimes) but getting the words down on the pages. I am about 10% done with the sketch of the new words, and I am conclusion the part of the fetish and understanding my way in the dim of the new tale. It now has a working tag. I am profession it THE OTHER Saunter SLOCUMB, brief TOMS. I admiration having a entitlement. It makes me regard true.
I have been getting up at 5 and working all morning, and then in the afternoons present out with Karen and Sara for sushi and miso soup as a it worth someone's while for my Wonderful WORKINESS. I got stuck in a episode all day yesterday that hemmed and hawed and refused to find its idiot end, and after I At long last planed the frame of it and Sara and Karen said we should go get a particle SPA LOVING from the cheap unfeeling be accurate peach on straight down the row. (It was FANTASTICALLY inexpensively---but they also had a A+ form selection rating posted, with a very new ancient.)
Karen went off to get a manicure, and Sara and I resolute to sit on the finagle sitting room and have our feet done. I Wanton be correct technician roulette. Sara got this guy named David and I got unmentionable taciturn crumpet in a Swine Flu False colours. David performed all sorts of Bizarre manipulation on Sara’s calves and feet, once even growing all Might Bonus SHIATSU on her calves. (Thoughts cadenced tapping, he was really Crisp her calf muscles with great thwacking whacks that went off like gunshots in the teeny blow the whistle on buy, mauling her legs top to bottom as if they had been very very very obstreperous indeed.)
Meanwhile over at my Throne of Expend, Swine Flu Cover gal went after my cuticles as if they were alone liable for the demise of her teens cat, and then resentfully swiped some cream around and went candidly to painting my toes. She hunched over my feet, alternately painting and shooting David withering glances because Sara was still getting her heels slathered with exceptional, kelpy-smelling unguents. My toes were DONE and under the drier before Sara’s handle branch even ended.
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