Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Thursday, August 24, 2006
PARTY
Mary Bea, my friend, had a party. It was an Arbonne party for her niece. It turned out to be a social gathering more than a sales meeting. It was my first time in my friend's new home. Oh, what a lovely home! It was also a time to be with very good friends. Mary Bea, Rhonda, Beth and I especially laughed and acted crazy for a couple of hours and left with a warm sense of lingering friendships. We don't get together very often, but when we do it is as if we only saw each other yesterday.
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