Dear God, We are sharing my first mug of java this a.m. It is chilly this morning, and I was wondering how this could be in the middle of summer. Here we go again, someone stole my entire summer and the chief suspect is time.
Time is sort of like ice cream.
The less there is, the faster it seems to disappear. The day will be full, and for this I am thankful. Perhaps there will be a meeting at 7 p.m., if any one comes. No one showed last night. My guess is that seven is not a good time.