As much as I liked the build-up to Christmas, the week after always socked me with the blues.
Mama says that, happiness is from magic rays of sunshine that come down when you're feeling blue.
Nothing like mashed potatoes when you're feeling blue. Nothing like getting into bed with a bowl of hot mashed potatoes already loaded with butter, and methodically adding a thin, cold slice of butter to every forkful.
I'd come home from school alone with those teenage blues and I'd put on Frank Sinatra's It was a very good year. Here was this mature man singing about the cycle of his life, and as a kid I felt the emotions of it already. It has since been a touchstone for me whenever I want to experiment musically.
Feeling a little blue in January is normal.
This is ridiculous. It's been months and for some reason I just can't get over us. I'm stronger than this. Enough is enough; no more walking around with my head down, I'm so over being blue crying over you.
I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade. It's amazing how it cheers one up to shred orange and scrub the floor.
Besides, I've been feeling a little blue — just a pale, elusive azure. It isn't serious enough for anything darker.
My family and I have a little joke that if I'm feeling particularly blue, and nobody cares about me, I should just go to the airport! That is where I am most recognized.
Money always ends up making you blue.
