This could (and probably should) wait until May, but inspiration knows no bounds. It knows nothing of your clocks and sundials, puny human. It just is,
and if it hits you, it will not wait. Follow it through or it may not visit again. I'll classify this post as Shannon's gift from Cupid. Nobody but Shannon will gush about this post, and I'm alright with that.
Today's blog lacks a common wordsmith's building block. An author's mortar, if you will. A symbol known to all, and it's not a consonant. I can say, without risk of finding out I'm wrong, that you will not find a 'classic' that lacks it. All our truly important works, from man's first words in print to now, count on it. If it's taught in school, this symbol is in it. If you saw it on Oprah's book club, this symbol is in it. If it's in a library, this symbol is in it (not counting a particular book which is primarily about writing without this symbol. Shannon knows which book that is, as it was gift for my thirty-third birthday). It's ubiquitous. Look up and you'll probably find it in a bar or tab atop this window. You cross it's path daily. Hourly. Particularly if your location is Canada, or our country's sibling down south. ('sibling down south'? That's a bad visual.). Utah and Montana without a doubt. Basically any land that was a British colony, I would say. I cannot say what it sounds similar to without using it. In comics, it would typically follow sightings of a long tail scurrying around your living room floor. Do you know what it is?
Prior to my holy (or is it civil?) union, I would woo Shannon by writing paragraphs such as this. Uncool? Possibly. Ludicrous? No way. I am proud to say it works. Shannon put an inscription on my ring as proof of that. So, with six shindigs honouring our bond firmly in our past and May's fast approaching, this is as good an occasion as any to say "Thank-you, Shannon." Thank-you for Gillian, for Mara, and for Ryan. Thank-you for your support, thank-you for your compassion, and thank-you for caring. In short, Thank-you for you. Is it fun? Occasionally. Is it rough? Occasionally. Am I lucky? Always. I can't say it's all rainbows and lucky charms from now on, but I what I can say is this - I will always pop your popcorn (and no, that's not dirty). It's not a vow of nightly backrubs but it's a start, right?
I think that's it. Oh, apropos of nothing: I almost said "Our sibling down south, good ol' USA". I know Shannon might claim that using an acryonym is a bit of a cop-out, but I would classify 'USA' as a word. It wasn't 'USA', that I got stuck on, but making it flow without a particular word in front. Nobody says "living in good ol' USA.". You say it with a short word following "living in" (Hint: it starts with "th") . I almost cut that part out but, by changing it up a bit, I could still work in 'sibling down south'. Hah! Writing a work of art as my gift to you, and I can still throw in a pinch of ribald humour. Who's lucky now, Shannon? Who's lucky now? This part adds nothing to my post, but it shows I could do this all night (also not dirty...or is it?). This isn't bad, actually, but I find avoiding 'i' is a daunting task. I may try that in a follow up post.
So, Shannon, I bid you 'Good Night', and I shall wrap up by wishing you a Happy Val