Who needs a hug? I do. What a time. If you haven’t shed a tear recently you’re not paying attention.
Get a hug; give a hug. Take one, pass it on.
Rules: none. Come get your hugs.
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I woke up to a 4 year old hugging me awake.
I think I’m good for the day.
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That’ll do it. 
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Not a hug, but if you want cheering up about humans, one of the local kids is on the garage roof outside out flat heckling his big sister who is on the wall below smooching her boyfriend. It made me smile anyway. 
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I found a hug:
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I have been told I’m a good hugger. Maybe that’s because I really do think it’s better to give than receive…although if you’re doing it right a hug is both at the same time.
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Also not a hug, but I was entertained by what passes for humor in my house this morning:
Daughter: Where is my doll highchair?
Me: In front of the chifferobe in the hall.
Husband (yelling from living room): Chifferobe? Better go bust it up! I’ll give you a nickel!
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For those that didn’t choose the hug-life, but it chose you…
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The only way I could like your husband more is if he said, “Chifferobe? I never touched her robe!”
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The last hug I had was in 2010, in Harajuku.
Yeah, I could do with a booster.
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Whoa dude! You’re way under the sanity quota!
(I’m a hugger)
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There’s a T-shirt for that. Sadly, wacky inflatable arm-waving men don’t come with it.
Anyway:
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We lived in Maine for one year and nary a week passed in those 52 that he didn’t say, “Bangor? I don’t even know her!”
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I approve of this message.
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Even criminals need hugs too
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