November sped by on wings of fire (and ice? and rain, definitely rain), but it was a very necessary month ... a healing month, a month when I settled, when I branched out, when I found a routine, when I made friends and money and food, when I stopped worrying and learned to love the bomb.
I reread all seven Harry Potter books (in a row this time, no two- or three-year wait in between books) and remembered what was like to be really and truly enchanted with a (well-written! I'm looking at you, Stephenie Meyer) story for all ages.
I saw "Fantastic Mr. Fox" at a theatre in Union Square two weeks before its wide-release date. It was maybe the best film I've seen all year.
I embraced Twitter (I know this isn't necessarily a good thing, but it's something that happened). My cat jumped on that bandwagon long before I did.
I reread all seven Harry Potter books (in a row this time, no two- or three-year wait in between books) and remembered what was like to be really and truly enchanted with a (well-written! I'm looking at you, Stephenie Meyer) story for all ages.
I saw "Fantastic Mr. Fox" at a theatre in Union Square two weeks before its wide-release date. It was maybe the best film I've seen all year.
I embraced Twitter (I know this isn't necessarily a good thing, but it's something that happened). My cat jumped on that bandwagon long before I did.
More bingo in New Haven hosted by a man dressed as Joan Crawford and other delightful members of the Connecticut Gay Men's Chorus. This time with my Domo and some transcendent cupcakes from Crumbs. And finally...
...duck on Thanksgiving. Who could ask for anything more?
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment