Easter

The bread is rising.  She is singing at the church job.

There is Potential while bread is rising.  Patience sucks so slice her open down the middle and stuff with chores and records and coffee and try not to poke the wound for a while.

I used the Kitchen Aid my grandfather gave me.  This is the first Easter without Gramps and Mom is particularly sad.

Yesterday I took down three sections of fence and stacked it to burn at parties.  I never liked the fence.  The yard is open and beautiful now and the fences weren't fooling anyone.  We don't own little dogs.

It's Easter Sunday and I'm trying to copy your writing style.  I wear it like a hat that doesn't fit and I know it doesn't fit but when I look in the mirror I like what I see.