I never *trust* that a picture I send to the blog is going to get here until I verify... yup, it made it.
We made it to Ashland with enough time for me to get my journal done before we headed off for dinner and the play. We saw Arthur Miller's 'A View from the Bridge' - it was not exactly uplifting (the playbill called it "the gritty side of the American Dream") but it was well acted.
Sometimes I get whiplash reading Hendricks. Yesterday I had I wonderful thought about thinking about my passion, today he says -- Wonder about your anger: what you say it's about; what it's really about; and what you get from it.
Well, of course, it's all about me - my impatience, my intolerance, my frustration, my etceteras... I suppose it allows me an excuse for not being able to better communicate. Maybe that's why lately I've taken to pouting and giving myself a time out until I feel I can deal with "the" situation in a more effective manner. hmmm