“Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
― Emily Dickinson
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Kickboxing this morning at 8:30 kicked my butt. I am officially calling it buttkicking class. It drizzled, rained, and was misty out all day. There were only a few windows of opportunity to go out for a walk. I put up my hood and went out around 3. As I walked across the street, three friendly ducks were enjoying a misty picnic in the park. Perfect duck picnic weather.
I not only admire a glorious glowing evening sunset, but I am also enamored with the foggy mist on the horizon with its subtle shades of gloomy greys.
Friday night tradition. A Black Russian, complete with chocolate ice cream.
Unless they drink Black Russians…
Toni Andrukaitis 