9,861 days of artless charm.
1,408.714 weeks of heart-stealing talent.
324 months of keen intellect, mostly expressed in confounding verbal spirals.
27 years of loveliness in every form.
Happy birthday, baby. I love you.
(Real posts will resume shortly. I swear.)
 I put down my book, The Meaning of Zen, and see the cat smiling into her fur as she delicately combs it with her rough pink tongue. Cat, I would lend you this book to study but it appears you have already read it. She looks up and gives me her full gaze. Don't be ridiculous, she purrs, I wrote it. --"Miao," Dilys Laing |
