Another Sunday is upon us and I approach it with a heavy heart. As of this evening, there will be only one more episode of the L Word and our tales will have to wait another long eight months to be told again. I weep for the vast wasteland of television and its soulless brand of vapid sitcoms, trite reality and testosterone-fueled sporting events. (Speaking of which, I fear my beloved Smith College Pioneers aren't faring very well in my NCAA bracket.)
To try and ease my sorrow I went about lifting my spirits with some of my favorite activties. First I spent some time with my beloved kitty. Then went and played a little softball with some of the bois.
After the game I spent some time reflecting with mother nature about what it means to be a queer woman in society, and a pint-sized one at that. After almost being taken away by one of the goddesse's creatures and fed to its young, I realized what was missing from my life was a certain someone. Someone who I could love, hold, share my life with and most importantly help me to not be eaten by birds. So I'm hoppin' in my jeep and heading over to Novak's where I know I can meet a special lady during thier weekly L Word party. Wish me luck on my journey.
