[it seems to me I live my life like a candle in the wind, never knowing whether it's ok to put lilies in gin]
[a new padded seat for the porch bench - the lazy way is to use cotton pillowcases as covers]
[a dress becomes a bag for Pink Daughter]
A walking, talking edition of the Ladies' Home Journal: that's the current me. Perhaps I'll turn all fey and poetic for a month now and appear in your comment box in floaty dresses and amulet necklaces with knitting needles in my hair, talking about the essence of sisterhood and the ocean currents but mostly about fate and my heart. Or my Heart, as Emily Dickinson so rightly terms it.
A brave step for someone like me who has never written a novel, never so much as owned a pair of lucky socks. Bless this enabling Internet!