Disjointed Thoughts from This Morning:

If I ever fall in love, I fully expect it will be in the month of September.

One of the best smells in the morning is that of butter melting into a freshly toasted bagel.

People seem to think that flying is an overrated superpower, but I love the feel of wind whipping through my hair. I would thoroughly enjoy being able to fly.

I hope I manage to stay young at heart. I don't want to become afraid of change, bitter at the world, or a fan of dry toast.

There is something inexplicably cute about fog rolling in one's window. A tiny cloud poked its head in just now, asking if everything was alright. And suddenly, it was.

There are two keys to making sure you write things on Twitter that are funny enough for other people to mark as favorites. 1) Be friends with Seven. Don't believe me? I think half my tweets end up on Favrd thanks to her. So follow @ohmyseven on Twitter now. Even if she doesn't follow you back or fave your tweets, you won't be disappointed. That girl is amazing. 2) Hire a trained squirrel to write for you.

I'm reading through The Secret Life of Bees for the second time because Moby-Dick got off to such a slow start and because I somehow always end up reading three or four books at once. Sometimes, I write down passages that were particularly well-written or that just struck a chord with me for some reason. Here are two that I grabbed today:

"I laid my head on his shoulder and wondered how he could stand me. In one short morning I had exhibited insane laughter, hidden lust, pissy behavior, self-pity, and hysterical crying. If I'd been trying to show him my worst sides, I could not have done a better job than this."

Oh man, have I been there. Just recently, I found myself sitting on my bedroom floor, sobbing into a pile of dirty laundry. I could not for the life of me figure out why I was crying, but it was to the point where I couldn't really stop myself. I hadn't quite reached the "watch yourself cry in the mirror while you halfheartedly attempt to clean up the mess and blow your nose" stage, but I was pretty darn close. Then, my best friend innocently struck up a conversation with me and wound up experiencing Sobbyskirts, Snifflyskirts, Poutyskirts, Grumpyskirts, and several other potential dwarf personalities, none of which were very pleasant. The fact that he made it through the conversation and got me to snap out of it says volumes about what a good friend he is.

"The whole time we worked, I marveled at how mixed up people got when it came to love. I myself, for instance. It seemed like I was now thinking of Zach forty minutes out of every hour, Zach, who was an impossibility. That's what I told myself five hundred times: impossibility. I can tell you this much: the word is a great big log thrown on the fires of love."

A. M. E. N.