Still More Festive Erotica with Your Favorite Librarian
Buckle up, kids. We’ve got ourselves a monster romance.
Buckle up, kids. We’ve got ourselves a monster romance.
“That must be it then,” he said, “you must be my angel.”
I’d like to stop and listen to the silence, sit with the stillness, and appreciate the winter for who she is.
Thanks to having an Alamo Drafthouse season pass, I saw a lot of movies this year (43 to be exact).
Have I mentioned yet that I love Sunday nights and that maybe I have a proprioception problem?
Every event feels necessary, but most of it is nonsense.
I somehow want to “succeed” in my social interactions. Oldest daughter syndrome claims another victim.
It’s hard not to think of repeated patterns as some kind of failure.
I didn’t realize until now that I want an oversized sweater to curl up in while feeding my cat milk?
Listening to those songs always reminds me of cutting paper snowflakes around the dining room table, putting up tin or clay ornaments on the tree, decorating sugar cookies made from a slightly altered recipe my dad’s been honing for years.