Dear Loved One,
I was just emptying my inbox (I’ve fallen way behind in correspondence) and noticed that I never got back to you. I trust you have found (or replaced) your car keys by now? I did check my bedside table and they weren’t there.
While I have you, I might as well mention something that’s been nagging me: it dawned on me that you might be sitting there all warm and comfy in that safe little bubble called “ordinary life” debating whether you should join GISHWHES or not.
Perhaps there’s even a little angel on your shoulder whispering:
”Sweety, GISHWHES is scaaaary. It’s the unknown. We like the known. We like routine, and safety, and apple sauce. Besides you have so many responsibilities and obligations to attend to! Life is fine just the way it is…”
And then on your other shoulder, a little devil:
“BOOOORING! Screw normal! Do GISHWHES. Let’s get MESSY! I wanna dress up! I wanna yell in public! Your friends are lame! Let’s make new ones. International ones! Let’s mix things up a bit! Flick that whining angel off your shoulder and let’s register!”
Now, for career-preservation reasons, I normally side with the angels, but in this case, gotta admit, old Lucipher makes a strong point…
Registration closes this Sunday.
Why not join me and thousands of others as we turn the world upside down in the best possible way.
Just a thought. Anyway, stop by again sometime soon. I have tons of rhubarb in the garden and I’ve been making some killer pies.