I call this place #MyBlueHeaven. It’s the place where I felt most in touch with #God. The nuns sang for dinner (literally) and there was a ski lodge up the road. Oh, and the “convenience” stores were convenient for getting your liquor via chocolate candies. (FTR, I preferred the Lake Como area.)
It didn’t take long for the NYPost to go negative. What’s wrong with the Aussies?!
Suggest that you find a date via the Internet and then insist that you’re being catfished if you find a matching personality?
I enjoyed sending cards to you. I don’t really know where to find you except on certain dates. I dream about you knocking on my window and I come outside and kiss you on the porch. We can kiss in the rain if you want to like in that movie, but I prefer to stay dry when possible. (But wait at least a week; I might still be contagious. :(
So here’s a weird question posed to the internet: When you’re online and you’re chatting with someone who is purported to be both your cousin and someone famous, at what point do you trust that you’re actually chatting with that person and not the infamous email scam prince? Get back to me with your answer, H. ;)
When you’re a poor kid, you have to make some compromises to get ahead. So, I try to remember the tale about the hare and the turtle. I think we all know how that story goes.
The greatest love story of all time more or less began with this song (believe it or not).
One last mix before I take a medical break. I’m slated for a new MRI and then I’m hopeful I can make a stop over in Florida to check on my house.