.
The old, "If you can't say anything nice- don't say anything at all," has me post(tongue)tied.
Not that anything dramatic or traumatic or pneumatic is going on.
I've just got the middle-of-the-road blues. The pick up my feet and do the daily dance but my rhythm's off blahs.
Soooo, I interrupt my regularly scheduled blog. Instead, in honor of my friend Jenny and her, um, "love" of high school french, I present this poem by Karla Kuskin...
The old, "If you can't say anything nice- don't say anything at all," has me post(tongue)tied.
Not that anything dramatic or traumatic or pneumatic is going on.
I've just got the middle-of-the-road blues. The pick up my feet and do the daily dance but my rhythm's off blahs.
Soooo, I interrupt my regularly scheduled blog. Instead, in honor of my friend Jenny and her, um, "love" of high school french, I present this poem by Karla Kuskin...
Many people who are smart
in physics, French and math and art
cannot tell two bugs apart.
Bugs are not very smart
in math or physics, French or art.
But they can tell two bugs apart.
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