Sunday morning, the birds were singing.
Apparently, they didn't know there was a riot Saturday afternoon in downtown Seattle.
The birds didn't know anarchists took over an otherwise peaceful protest.
The birds don't know that George Floyd was killed by a cop who thought he was judge, jury and executioner.
The birds don't know there is a pandemic.
I wish I were a bird.
This blog is about the little and big thoughts that pop into my head. I once read that when Flannery O'Connor walked into a bookstore, she would want to edit her published works with a red pen. In the digital world, we have the luxury of tweaking things up after we've hit the publish button. I can be a perfectionist/procrastinator, where waiting for the ideal means little gets done. Here I will share what is not--and likely will never be--perfect.
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