Christmas Chisme

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Now, that you are done with the nuttiness of Christmas. Decorating the tree with exquisite one of a kind ornaments. Breaking through the parking lot unscathed. Braving the torrential crowd to buy that perfect Christmas pajamas and showstopping designer New Year’s outfit. Exchanging that perfect regift by your Secret Santa. Baking every melting in your mouth goodies. Cooking the latest recipes on Pinterest. Eating all that food until your hearts content, aka pig out. Playing your favorite games. Telling stories so cool, your bird slept through it. Dancing your hearts content. Pigging out from your own hand’s mischievous dishes. Now that you had time to breathe, take it all in. Let the church say, Amen. The scale and little rosie credit card bill awaits you. Inhale then join the mad caravan. Notice the ten days reprieve, aka shop, right?! Take it from me. It is true because my bird said so. It told me, it heard the chisme (rumors) on the street corner after the internet went down and I bought it cheap, a nickel as a matter of fact, from this guy selling peanuts. Yes, peanuts. Happy New Year love. Stand by. Start saving. The plane is in the tarmac, taking off once again in 341 days. Back to your regularly scheduled program, take on that annoying co-worker. Booyah!

©️ Angela Aguiar

Postmarked

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Your package has been prepared,

pre-packaged and awaits delivery.
The delivery date has been scheduled but yet activated
in the mail the date is postmarked but has yet to hit the send button.
So, I sit still by the fire waiting on the delivery man to come whenever He feels like, is supposed to, His time!

©️ Angela Aguiar

Flood Myth

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If I could talk to the moon, I would tell it to make me a tittle-tattle garden party by the neighbor’s front lawn, then I would ask tomorrow to hop on a Uber, zap through the streets, serve me up a plate on the yard, splash the naked truth on the driveway and welcome it. But honest to goodness truth, I can’t talk to the moon and even if I could, the sun would brusquely pop like a road runner with a spaghetti plate on its neck and say “hello, I am your Lyft driver; what’s your story?!” Yup, it would!

©️ Angela Aguiar