{{{{{dems dat can use a hug}}}}}

My father is one of those people who enjoys being alone with his thoughts. He actually grooves on driving cross country for days with no audio distraction at all. My mind boggles. If i go more than 10-15 minutes with only my though that downward spiral of despair and self-recrimination kicks in and i really prefer to avoid going there, since it's so darned tough to pull out of it once i get sucked in.

I recall a miserable period in college when the tape deck in my car died and i kept driving through long stretches with no radio reception. I ended up with a portable battery-powered cd player cranked up to top volume. Terrible quality, but enough to occupy the grey matter. I like the idea of projecting the image, destroying it, and watching someone else clean it up.

And in happy-me news, my chiropractor solved my "sinus" problem by adjusting a teeny tiny bone at the top of my nose...right around the level of the bottom of my eyes. I had no idea.

Hugs and job~ma for Quester and amych (well, right thing happening~ma for amych).

My father is one of those people who enjoys being alone with his thoughts. He actually grooves on driving cross country for days with no audio distraction at all. My mind boggles.

I'm fine driving out there, because it is daylight, and I can see stuff - distract myself with trees and horses, and places where horses would be if it weren't so damn cold, and rivers, etc. I can be alone with those thoughts. It's the ones that come when it is dark, nothing but the glare of oncoming headlights to look at, that I was not able to fight.

And maybe, in addition to my list of songs to sing, I will make a stick figure cartoon of some guy sweeping up a pile of the shards of bad thoughts.

And in happy-me news, my chiropractor solved my "sinus" problem by adjusting a teeny tiny bone at the top of my nose...right around the level of the bottom of my eyes. I had no idea.

That is wonderful, erin_o. I also had no idea. Huh.

Cthulhu, the necktie: [link]

I will make a stick figure cartoon of some guy sweeping up a pile of the shards of bad thoughts.

Works for me! My guy wears coveralls. And his broom is one of those wide, industrial types.

'the most well-dressed of the Elder gods.'

Heh.

Can I get in on the group huggage? I was called an "odious woman" by a blogger who objected to my objections to book pirates. And then one of their cronies said I must be an epically bad writer.

Plei, however, came to a masterful defense, which rocked socks.

And Lewis took me for margaritas.

But group hugs would definitely help.

::tacklehugs Barb::

Barb, you may have all the hugs you want. Those people are so wrong about you, their wrong-headed wrongness blazes like torches made of flaming wrong, lining a cave of such deep idiocy, no light can escape it.