We spent yesterday running a long list of errands. Had lunch at a Chinese buffet, and that's probably the last place we should have eaten. But, what the heck, doing something naughty once in awhile just plain feels good. My fortune cookie read, "All of the water in the world can't sink a ship, unless it gets in." It never ceases to baffle me how fortune cookies give us the advice we need to hear at the right time. We then mosied our way back home, put our purchases away, and took a power nap to re-energize ourselves for a venture to the trout stream.
The fuzzy one and I stayed in the car while hubby caught two rainbow and one brown. I took along with me the book, "Room" written by the Irish author, Emma Donoghue. It's the story of a boy born and raised with his captive mother in a 12-foot square room. "Room" is uniquely narrated by this five-year-old boy, Jack. Room is the only place he has ever known. For his mother, it's been her prison since she was abducted by Old Nick seven years prior.
The month of September is slipping away, and October is right around the corner. The pansies in my pansy wagon are starting to look out of place. Times chugs right along, and change chugs with it. Nothing too exciting going on in our world. Ordinary days are good days. They come and they go, but each one leaves a bit of its magic and a bit of its mystery behind.
