What’s a girl to wear?
Poor Fiona had surgery last Tuesday to remove two rather large fatty tumors that were protruding from her chest and dangling like two sweater puppies, if you catch my meaning. 310 more words
This week was a tough one. I find myself at the end of it battered, bruised, but better. Sitting here by the fire with my hound at my feet, a large stack of freshly graded papers on the table in front of me, only one set of ungraded papers on the other table beside me, dinner in the oven, and the rain and wind on the other side of the french doors behind me, it would be easy to forget the week that has passed and give into the enjoyment of the evening ahead. 1,462 more words