We’re lying side by side, reading. A book for him, a screen for me.
Me: I want a cupcake.
Him: What? Where’d that come from?
Me: This post I’m reading. See?
I point at the word. CUPCAKE. It looks somehow magical, evocative, as if it were spelled out in actual cupcakes instead of plain old letters of the alphabet.
Me: I think cupcake is one of my ten favorite words.
Him: Hmm. You know, I don’t really like cupcakes.
Me: That’s all right, I’ll have yours.
Joan Angela Blewitt Peterson
day 25: birthday
Enter the Thicklebit
My Heart Goes Pitty-Pat
Pass the Echinacea