‘Love’ might be too strong a word.

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So there’s this thing that happens once yearly in blogging, called LOL Day.  LOL, in this instance, does not mean Llamas Out-cute Lions or Licks Only Lollipops.  It also does not mean, as more than one well-meaning grandparent-type has thus misused the abbreviation, Lots Of Love.

‘Love’ is in the acronym though:  LOL stands for Love Our Lurkers.  And today is LOL Day.  🙂

For me…  Well, let’s just say that ‘love’ might be too strong a word.  I mean, I kind of have to know a person to love them, and by definition, blog lurkers are folks who don’t make themselves known, so I can’t honestly say “I love you” when I don’t know you, right?

I like you, though.  😀

So to you (yes You, who show up in this little cloud-world space of mine to read or perv or quietly observe) who lurk about in the shadows:  THANK YOU.  For being here.  For reading around and clicking about and generally offering your silent support throughout my tenure as a blogger.  Truly, thank you.  I think you’re awesome.

AND

If you are one of the ones who are typically silent, or if you haven’t commented in quite some time, or are otherwise timid or shy or just not quite sure what to say:  Now is your time.

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Peace of Mind

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Peace of mind has never been anything I’ve ever strived for, but…

It’s like happiness, y’know…  Happiness isn’t something that you try to strive for.  It’s the end result of doing something which makes you happy.  You know?  You follow me?

In that same way, peace of mind isn’t something that you strive for.  It’s something that you acquire if you’re doing something that, in the end, that – in the end product or at the end of the line – brings you peace of mind.

~ Bob Dylan, 1984

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Animal Instincts

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Why I love my friends, Reason #476:

 

funny whatsapp conversation about veterinarian

 

It’s good to have goals…

Cut From The Same Cloth

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boxcutter with text: Don't. Move.

/SCENE/

The cold snick of the blade sliding into place sends a hot chill through her, and when he places the biting metal against the inside crease of her thigh, her sharp inhalation expands the held-breath air in her chest, pushing her pebbled nipples out, brushing them against the scratch-silk fabric of her blouse, making her squirm.

“Be still.”

His voice, barely registering through her adrenaline haze, is rough gravel coated in menace.

His body – solid but featureless against the gray-dark of the room – is blocking hers open, keeping her legs apart.

“Don’t.  Move.”

She feels the press of steel – Is it steel? – against the seam of her pantyhose at the same time as she feels the press of his lips against hers, followed immediately by the sound of rending fabric.

/CUT SCENE/

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