He said he had a few blonde moments;
Only they happened to last 9 months...

He said he would be working his butt off
And she wondered why he would want to
get rid of a perfectly good butt
And how he would manage to sit...

She said she was "wide open" for the upcoming week
And she wondered if she was saying she was available...
or if she meant she would be an open wound...

Maybe you and I could step into a pea green boat and sail away (that's what the owl and the pussycat did)
Or we could sail off in a wooden shoe on a river of crystal light, into a sea of dew (like Wynken, Blynken and Nod did)
Or maybe we could borrow Harold's purple crayon to see what world we'd draw ourselves into.

So if you happen to have a pea green boat, or a wooden shoe big enough for two, or a purple crayon that's ready to draw...

just let me know.

I shared with him that sometimes I just feel like a little child
that wants to be held for a few hours and rocked back and forth and told “Shhh, it's ok, everything’s going to be alright.”
and he said “Me too.”

"Everyone comes with their own pile of poop", she said.
"You just have to decide which pile you're willing to play in."

She kept spilling her guts all over the place
And wondered why she was waiting for someone else to clean them up.

"Don't worry about not meeting my expectations," she wrote.
"After all, I'm the girl who gives a guy credit for wiping his own butt."

He asked her to call in the morning.
But the next day she just sat and watched the clock and waited to pick up the phone.
She was trying to figure out how he defined "morning."

As she looked at the list of names of unknown people, she thought,
"It is amazing to see the words that once lived on the pages of a small notebook on my desk travel off to so many new destinations.
I hope they find where they are going."

Yesterday he asked me why I didn't like cilantro.
"Because it tastes like Ivory soap!," I thought.
But I just shrugged my shoulders,
I knew my disliking it wasn't reason enough for him
So I stopped looking for a reason that he would understand.

He told me he went on stage naked a lot to perform
I thought he meant "bearing his soul"
But he just meant "without his clothes on."

On the inside front cover of my senior yearbook John wrote:
"Don't forget us little people."
That was 17 years ago.
Today I learned that John is missing in the gaping wound that was the World Trade Center.
Is this God's way of reminding me not to forget?
I would have preferred a string around my finger.

Maybe I'm really a tree in disguise...
I seem to like to branch out in lots of different directions.

She taught her how to skate when she was three.
"Don't move!," the child said as she braved the 4 feet of ice that separated them.
"Don't worry," she thought, "My skates may be moving, but I'm not going anywhere."

Today the California hills look like the curves of a woman lying at rest in the warm sun.

She tried to find words for how she felt, but the 10,000 languages in the world were inadequate.
She wondered, "If I could create number 10,001, what would it sound like?"

I was asked once to find the median in a list of numbers.
I said, "Choose the one on the left."
I was never very good with numbers.

She would go running in the streets and wonder if these could really be the same streets she drove on every day on her way to work.

I met a woman with a "weenie" attached to her side.
She said it kept her kidneys clean.
I knew it was there to open my eyes.