*FULL LIVING, Watson*

*FULL LIVING,
Watson*

~ By Absolutely*Kate

of Harbinger*33

She didn't die when they said she was to.

So it's easy to deduce without a Sherlock, Watson, that she sips pinot, tastes passion and savours possibilities while pushing away pointless logics. She careens through colours, lights candles rather than cursing darknesses, (crediting Eleanor Roosevelt each time she plucks that line outta her pocket), clinks a drink to regale a moment, heats up hoopla, and percolates the masses to a stirring cheer, somewhat akin to a fresh morning's cream pour into robust coffee -- you know that sensation of splash, don't you? Lingering fingering of caresses slow, slow tracing honeysuckle scented skin, along with eyes ablaze across a crowded room on some enchanted evenings (and afternoons), spark and jolt the joie de vivre which essences her whole. To go through motions, to put up with agita, to merely be mere, to echo-nod comprehensively when a knowing touch to a comrade's arm or a laugh which bellies up the whole room makes all the difference of the difference is what she advokates in a minute . . . as a weathered Judy Garland Christmas tune affirms ~

"Never let a minute sit there on the shelf,
for there may be in it . . . all of Time itself".

* * * * * *

The best reason of this spirited season is that *magic* does exist ~ within and at unexpected edges and around any next corner and ALWAYS when your laugh *zings* up your eyes at the exact moment you hear Alvin and The Chipmunks tell you what they really want for Christmas ~ and you wonder . . . can Snoopy and the Red Baron be that far behind(?) -- well, that's why I'm wishing good*stuff, good*cheer into all your holidays this memorable 2009 year.

~ Absolutely*Kate, fully living the more,

with Joys and Perceptions of grand people like you,

who simply, thus strongly read this right through