Was look at pictures of you. And you. And I could hardly wait to get home and tell you so.

From the land of Wiki: Dave Van Ronk, an early supporter and teacher of Dylan, had the following criticism to make of the song All Along The Watchtower: That whole artistic mystique is one of the great traps of this business, because down that road lies unintelligibility. Dylan has a lot to answer for there, because after a while he discovered that he could get away with anything—he was Bob Dylan and people would take whatever he wrote on faith. So he could do something like “All Along the Watchtower,” which is simply a mistake from the title on down:…

On Thursday morning, I woke up on my own. I woke before the alarm, and I woke without Toulouse, and his morning routine of running his paw through my hair and nibbling on my nose to wake me. I lay still in bed, afraid to look for him because I assumed the worst. After a few moments however, he dragged himself out from beneath my costume rack, and mostly only using his front legs, pulled himself to the edge of the bed. A pathetic meow indicated that he wanted to be lifted up. Overnight he had almost completely lost the…

And this should never be confused with a really TALL building, or the earth, or the sky. It was just a little taste, for now. Still it was sweet, and that sweetness lingers. It has me scorning my schedule, deleting appointments, keeping my weekends open, and prying my own crazed little fingers off my life in general. Spontaneous decisions have yeilded brilliant results. Yesterday morning a forecast of several days of rain would have made my heart heavy. Today I know how cute it will feel to wear my rubber Wellies with a pretty Spring skirt. How under the shelter…