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FOURTEEN The dear one is slowly pushing me off the couch with his fidgeting toes. He's had a difficult day and he's slowly regaining his sense of humour by torturing me, somewhat akin to a naughty puss cornering a wee mouse. Update: I read the last couple of sentences and dear one started slapping me with the decorative pillows saying "if it's going online, I might as well make the most of it." Gentle reader, this is what we here at hchamp.com must endure to bring you fresh content. It's the 14th, almost midmonth and I have a small confession to make. I carry a small kernel of dread within me, knowing that I may fail in my obligation to prepare my daily sacrifice to gods of NaBlaPoMo. While I try to post a photo every day, it's been some time since I've been used words to express myself with any regularity. Constipation of the mind? Perhaps these thirty days will have the therapeutic properties of a creative colon blow. Or not. 11/14/2006
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