032310
“Pig-face!” is a terrible insult.
“Baby-face”…? Not easily dismissed.
“Cutie-face,” however, is a compliment that adorable, little munchkins and I are faced with. The Lord God is said to give every person on earth a different face. Apparently, however, he giveth some childish features and taketh away their maturity credentials. Damned me, a cutie-face.

032010
It takes an acquired taste to appreciate the simplicity of a small, undulous town. Fort Morgan is strewn with silent corners, such as the 18-hole golf course at which I spend all of my spare time. For college, and paraphernalia I suppose, the job is worth the monogamous hours. Lying on my makeshift bed of café chairs, reading My Life in France and all of Julia Child’s voicey pages, I can appreciate the quiet corners.
I might feel differently tonight, however, when I’m at le accueil alone and perhaps a tad depressed, bored to misery.