Cosy is the word. Picnic with the girls (plus Bryan and Am crashing) with chicken, pasta, cookies, cupcakes, (hard) spuds and shots of wine. Marshmallows flying, wine drinking and big dogs attacking left us sleepy high and reminisce-y, or just me anyway. The green may never be the same. Off to my madam's for the nicest dinner one could ask for; domestic boys are a fuh-reaking god-sent. So this year was more about company than anything. Kat's personalization of Oprah's core of peace ringing in my mind all night. I see now that it's not until you finally accept things and how you feel about them as they are that you are able to really... accept. So I knew where to start all along.
There's nothing left to show you
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