Angie had a post about word clouds. She went here and got one. So, copy cat that I am, I did too.
I think it's funny that the last little teeny word is whispering, "Zorro."
I do love him so.
And now I know that he loves me enough to whisper his name across time into my word cloud.
(Or is that me chanelling Megan Frampton's observations about how very annoying paranormal, smelled you from afar, romance heros are? I'd rather it were the former. And, being my blog, I can say that it is.)
Hah! Zorro whispers to me.
And he's not a stalker. He simply admires me for my horsemanship, skill with a sword, sparkling good humor, intelligence, and riding skills. He also thinks that I am a terrific asset to Toronado, since I do know how to buff any jet-black horse into a glossy sheen, removing any annoying brown dust across the upper flanks, using only my strong arm, a curry comb, and a short-bristled body brush. Of course, then I am too tired to sword fight, tousle in the hay or in the bed, or even to engage in witty reparte while planning a daring escape from our enemies. He knows this about me, and this is why he does not require my grooming services. Instead he prefers to simply whisper his name to me.
I'm sorry. Were you saying something? Word Cloud? Hmmm?
I'll get back to you. Zorro needs some attention.