The pine tree outside my window was in turmoil a moment ago. But now it is still. The storm has passed. A brief and unproductive storm. Sound of rain drops from eaves. The light is clear and golden.
The secret of power nap: podcast + alarm.
The fridge went dead the other day, but today when I was in the kitchen pondering about how to get rid of the food, I was suddenly aware of the noise. The fridge was back to life. So freakish.
All these months I've been shortening my writings, I realize. I don't quite understand this economy. It's not mine. But perhaps there is an art in making long story short, to make all the sleepless nights lose their flesh and see what remains.
loaves of oatmeal-heavy-on-the-molasses bread baked: 3
pots of tuscan white bean and swiss chard soup made with thanksgiving turkey stock: 1
big screen movies watched (2012-- woo! upheavals!): 1
good long walks with chris & floyd: 1
naps: 2
cups of hot cocoa: 2
loads of laundry put away: 4
hours of rolly polly puppy play time: infinite
It's frigid at 3 o'clock. My hands were stiff. The colors of these Polaroids are not quite the same as the originals, because I don't have a scanner, and because colors always look washed out on Vox.
(Invitation only. Black tie.)
so the to-do list I just made is three feet long, but at least I have one. I've been hiding in a cloud of avoidance ever since I ate turkeys. (yes, I got into more than one.) but turkeys are not to blame. it takes a while to reconcile with one's lot, so to speak. and when one is re-conciliating, one cannot simultaneously strive. one is not built that way. does one ever reconcile? does one reconcile too much or too little? does one reconcile too much where little is called for and too little when much is called for?
