I’ve lived my whole life in a box – the one self-imposed and driven by a little voice in my head warning me not to stick my neck out, to always dress appropriately; talk softly, and do everything perfectly., So, I’m sure you’d like to ask, “How’s that working for me?
Is your fist clenched around the steering wheel of life? Are you fighting your neighbor for your piece of the pie? (You may get your piece but will you find your peace on earth and goodwill toward men and all that? I suspect you won’t.)
Me too, so I am trying to satisfy my inner farmer who is dying to get outside and plant something.
If you are having a similar problem, I have the answer. Simply go through your vegetable drawer and pull out a few items destined for the compost pile. Through a little magic, you can regrow them into fresh vegetables. No joke, you can grow a garden without planting a single seed.
\We are all customers in the Bank of Time.
Every morning it credits us with 86,400 seconds. Every night it charges off as a loss whatever reminder you have failed to invest to a good purpose.
Makes you rethink a minute, doesn’t it? And an hour makes you feel pretty flush. Your account in the Bank of Time carries no balance-well, except
Scuse me. While nibbling on my yoga mat for lunch, something went down the wrong way. It’s my latest diet strategy. Eat only the inedible and you’re bound to lose weight.
I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard a TV anchor man announce that several national chain restaurants would begin removing a substance from their breads – the very same one that is a building block of yoga mats and rubber boots. I haven’t been so distressed since my daddy told me that hot dogs contained ground horse’s hooves. That may have contributed to my decision to go meatless later in life, but that’s a story for another day.