Me: In My PJs

Sunday morningss on the patio, quite simply, and in a word, rawk. I have big ol' shrubbery that grants me privacy from the street. I have the patio umbrella to provide the proper shade for reading and relaxing. I have the patio furniture, among which is the table, a handy horizontal surface on which to put my coffee cup, or to set down my reading material (should I decide to pause to ponder the poignant profundities of a particular prose), and my feet. The patio chair on which I sit is springy, so I can lean back in a quasi-recliner position, or rock (which, too, quite simply, and in a word, rawks). On balmy summer Sunday mornings such as this, my mind is free to roam and soak, soak and roam, from the smell of the morning air, to striking blue of the a.m. sky, from the lush green of the conifer sentries, to the light breeze that whispers, "You're outside, and isn't this sweeeeeet?"

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