Sunday morning.  I am baking baquettes and trying to write.  I am distracted by dog hair on the floor, thoughts, feelings and excuses of all sorts.  I would just like to sit here in the warmth of the morning sun and do sweet tweet. I would regret it later so I must trudge on. Maybe a cup of tea would soothe the words out of me.

So I’ve had my cup of tea.  The baquettes are done and eaten.  The dishes are dealt with. The dog is walked and her hair are gone.  The thoughts and feelings linger.  It is evening, supper done and I’m sipping my wine, feeling melancholy.  I am sure it has to do with the state of the world today.  We are, or should I just speak for myself, so adrift in this moment.

We want so desperately to connect, don’t we?  If not, why fore all the social media?  I know I am guilty of being on Facebook and Instagram.  I have a Twitter account.  I would tweet more if I understand it more and if I have more followers.  Yet, despite all this, I feel more disconnected and lonely than ever.  Do I have any real friends?

I am trudging through my thoughts and feelings.  I’ve had a glass of wine.  Don’t mind me and my words.  I really want to write about storytelling today.  Somehow I got lost and couldn’t find my way to it.  How nice it would be to back to the days of The Friendly Giant. He would lower the drawbridge for us.  We would enter the castle and he would have arranged some chairs around the fireplace .  Wouldn’t it be nice to sit and listen to each others’ stories?

I miss those days.  Missing is a useless feeling though.  It does not help to connect us at all.  Perhaps I can try again tomorrow for a story. In the meantime, here’s the Friendly Giant.