I'm thinking

it's time I started writing again.

It isn't as if the stories have stopped. Just the story-telling.

I should be ashamed of myself.

And I am (don't think I'm not - also I *didn't* temporarily pause blogging because I was busy acquiring a real life and I don't care what anyone says about it! So, hah!).

The Mouse

She could bite with her sharp little yellow teeth. She could kick, albeit feebly, with her hindfeet. She could use formidable silvery whiskers to suss her surroundings. But among the long list of things she couldn't do featured fighting the frightening progress of science.

Trying to cure cancer's a rather greedy goal. Even for humans.

Choices are Impossible to Not Regret

She wanted the Steve Maddens. They were beautiful. Fawn, strappy, sexy kitten heels. The sort of shoes that were her. She almost bought them. And then she saw the Nikes. Thought about how she needed to run. Imagined that she wanted to leave the familiar behind. She bought them.

Some people should stick to Maddens.

The GodAbsolutely-Non-Theological-but-Wholly-Whimsical Delusion

Sometimes, her skin can't contain her. She feels peevish, restless. Disconsolate, fretful. Helplessly watches the most important characters in the drama slip in unnoticed, unremarkable, mouthing banalities. Hearts breaking in bright sunshine. Humor and pathos melting into confused mediocrity. Disregarded stage directions. Somewhere, someone's mismanaging the whole show.


If only they’d let her run it.