Have I blogged about how much I love the birds in the backyard? Have I confessed to how ANCIENT that makes me feel? It's like a secret, hidden thing that I enjoy. I'm accepting the whatever. I've been down on myself for failed friendships lately. I feel like I should come with a warning. Something like, "I might seem like I'd be a good friend, but trust me, things will get screwed up. I have thin skin. Bash me all you want, but don't go there with my kids." Or maybe something more to the point like, "Don't even think about befriending me. I will bring you heartache."
Anyway, I can be friends with the birds.