When I started out my digital rambling in 2010, I would've never guessed I was soon to meet such kind and open-minded people as yourselves. I wasn't one to bear my heart, you know, and except for the odd slip here and there, I'd try to impress you with my jokes — sometimes successfully, too. Then I got seriously ill and everything changed, which I won't go into for the umpteenth time plus one. As a result, the tone of my posts changed to echo my inner me a bit more, and I noticed a side of you all that somehow I'd been blind to before: you cared. Now, how could that be? Most of you all I hadn't even met in person. Maybe my being ill was affecting my sense of judgment. Maybe.
Well, it didn't take long to realize my sense of judgment was doing just fine, no need for it to be put in a box and buried eight feet down in the garden. Yet. Well, here goes nothing: I love you for caring, for taking the time to read my stuff. And when I say I love you there's no need for you to rush to the nearest rest room to, you know, rest — or vomit. My brand of love covers an impressive array of affection. It varies from a brutal pat on the back to a kick in the nuts, a long and sloppy kiss or a very special hug that will keep you blushing all night. You take your pick. Remember, I'm not very good at it. Yet. I am, incidentally, also using you to practice saying the L-word, and shamelessly at that. You may have noticed.
Friends, I wish you all a wonderful Christmas. May it not be about stuffing yourselves but about, well, love.
So, how did I do?
* * *I feel it in in my fingers..." (Click and sing along!)