The White Yak

In the theme of feeling loved (and running out of fingers and toes with which to count my blessings), this week the inimitable Nurse Myra (my Nursie), surprised me with a love package.  A little antipodean parcel of happiness and glee.

In it was this card.  And on the card was this note in the fair hand of Nurse M herself:

“If you meet the white yak of depression, reach out and pat him on the nose”.

Cue gooseflesh and welling eyes.

Aren’t I blessed?

Nursie, I love you too. Thank you.

PS in other news, *grin*, the grey has lifted (mostly).  In fact, there have been large patches of glee.  I can’t begin to explain how joyous it is to have the glee back.  It makes more glee.  And before I know it, I’m grinning like a loon at the mountain, some flowers, the driver in the car next to me.  But with it, the libido. has returned.  Like sap in spring.  Like high tide.  Like the building clouds of a thunderstorm. Uh oh.  With no outlet, expect bad erotica soon.

The writing’s on the sand

LB, shuffle-writing “I love u” in the sand.  He can stay.  *squish*

Dirty trees, turds and an a round of Irish for the birthday girl

“You only get one Irish birthday”, my friend told me.  

“Only one?”

“Ja, when you’re tirty tree and a tird.”

We’ll today is my Irish day of birth.

Or, in more scatalogical terms, my dirty tree and a turd.

 

Any excuse for a celebration my friends.

Guiness and poo jokes all around!

*grin*