Lala, you're off the hook because you email me back, and I hear from Aunt B and my favorite psychic on occasion so I'm not talking to you either. It's the rest of you (I assume there's a rest of you) I'm talking to, begging's more like it. Please leave a comment every once in a while. I lose heart thinking that I'm hollering into an abyss even though I know I'm probably not. ClustrMaps tells me that people stop by but I never know if it's readers or spammers. Sorry to be needy but I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed and need a few strokes. I won't be stopping my near-daily posts, never fear.
August 14--Egypt, Predynastic, Bowl with Human Feet. The little red bowl pattered across the table and stopped in front of Leah. It tilted toward her as if inviting her to reach inside. She sat staring, her spoon raised, wondering how much of its contents the bowl was willing to let her take. She glanced down the table to see bowls of other colors bowing to other diners. Some of them were not hesitating at all but digging in and dishing themselves heaping helpings of mashed potatoes. Others waved away the food and Leah smiled to see the rejected bowls slump and stagger back. She slid her spoon into the fluffy mound of spuds in the red bowl. "Thanks," she said, placing more than she wanted on her plate, "these look delicious." The red bowl straightened and strutted away with a jaunty step.
It's Monday and, if not for pneumonia, we'd have been headed west toward Yellowstone as I type this. *sigh*