the grapevine... the backyard fence... nothing more, for the most part, than harmless bits of sophisticated note passing... until you stumble across a malicious gossip... flitting from person to person... gathering, embellishing and dispensing whatever juicy morsel she comes across... should you patiently wait for karma to intervene... or just silently root for her clueless victims to suddenly compare notes and rise up in a united rage... in the end, you invariably curse the fact that you were raised to behave like a lady and that violence (even on the behalf of others and for a just cause) never really solves anything... (it's a shame though... because you suspect you just might possess a mean right hook.)
The Postal strike continues. No Christmas cards are going out or coming in
this year.
While I am saving $$, the Post Office is losing $$. Either way, sa...
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