Thank heaven for the arrival of spring break. I'm hung-up, under-wired, and wrung-out. What that means in my fifty-something life is I'm as as tired as a bra-strap caught on the cosmic washing machine agitator. I've been pulled this way and that for a whole cycle, stretched thin. When I finally get into deep sleep, I have nightmares of shopping for bras.
Tide and Bounce sitting in a tree. K I SS I N G.
Cross my heart promise:
Phrase uttered by children after making a promise to indicate the depth of their sincerity: the speaker is so committed to the action just agreed to that they offer self-inflicted pain and a death wish as proof of their seriousness. Must be accompanied by a gesture of drawing a imaginary X across the speaker's own heart, or else it doesn't count.
© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder