Hold

For your sake, as well as mine, this post will not be about the weather (despite the fact that, all over Europe, people seem to be coming down with a serious case of "the Brits"). This post will not be about Whitney Houston (although, after Michael Jackson, it now feels like my whole childhood is slipping away - if, God forbid, something were to happen to Madonna, I would officially be musically orphaned). And this post will not be about the US elections (that being said... Rick Santorum? Really?)   So, no weather, no Whitney, no wackos. What on earth is left to talk about? Absolutely nothing. Nothing is happening. Everything is waiting. Holding its breath. Still. Any minute now, my life will start again. I can feel it. So close, I can smell it, hear it whispering to me. Any minute now. In the meantime, I'm still in my bubble. Surrounded by conversations I don't understand, people I don't know, and strange-sounding cheeses. And I can't even eat them hecause I'm trying to shed the pounds... Have to be thin for my new life, don't I?!