Porridge

Sent by my old friend Bar­ry: Baby Bear goes down­stairs and sits in his small chair at the table, he looks into his small bowl. It is emp­ty. “Who’s been eat­ing my por­ridge?” he squeaks. Papa Bear arrives at the…

Today’s Randomness

I’m catch­ing up on email, so I’ll inflict this stuff on you in one big attack. I think the rela­tion­ships that sur­vive in this world are the ones where two peo­ple fin­ish each oth­er’s sen­tences. For­get dra­ma and tor­rid sex…

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