Just Go Ahead Now

Tata: You called the house number. I waited a minute and dialed your cell and then you called mine. It took me a year to answer the phone. I’m learning how to use it.
Miss Sasha: Still?
Tata: Stop laughing! I was born before the cut off date! Besides: your voicemail is full.
Miss Sasha: On purpose! Grandma was driving me crazy with messages.
Tata: Fix that. How am I supposed to call and menace you?

Basket full of drowsy Drusy, who needs her beauty sleep.

And Blue Show Your Friends

You can always tell when I’m obsessing about something to distract myself from whatever’s really bothering me.


That’s the first time I’ve seen someone else knit like I knit, which is to say that she too apparently knits upside down and backwards.


No way do I have the attention span to cable knit. I distract me!


My brain hurts! Several of my personalities are nonplussed. I may totally forget I’m worried about money.

Never Want It Again

I started this post yesterday, then a gin and tonic called my name. Next thing I knew it was after midnight and I felt not at all like talking.

It’s cold here. This morning, frost weighed down the leaves of our backyard sage bushes. We’ve retreated to the attic exercise room for sweaty activity, but it’s tricky. We currently have no TV in the attic. I have the attention span of a toddler in sugar shock. As much as I love the mosh pit sensation that is pushing hard and fast on the elliptical, without something to focus on I climb off the machine after ten minutes to go clean something. For two weeks, I managed 8 or 11 or 10 or 12 minutes, then found myself having a lemon-scented polishing incident. Thwarting my own plans was starting to frustrate me, lack of waxy build up aside. Yesterday, without thinking about it, I dragged my laptop to the attic, found a playlist I’d made for a friend years ago and howled along with Little Green Bag from the executive position atop the elliptical. When it was over, I was four minutes into a pretty decent workout and wondering how I’d tricked me into it. Five songs I truly love later, I felt great and only a few of my neighbors had called 911 about the shrieking. I excite even people who cannot actually see my extreme beauty. Everybody wins!

Last Thursday, I got about halfway through the workday when I realized I was trying to lie down at my desk which, while flat, offered limited coziness options, so I went home and slept until dinnertime, when I wasn’t entirely sure how many fingers I was holding up. Friday morning, I decided to stay in bed and monitor the broadcast culture from a supine position, so perhaps I was able to trick myself into kicking my own ass on Saturday because I was either well-rested or still asleep.

It’s three. I’m holding up three fingers and back to work I go.

More Falsehoods And Derisions Golden Living Dreams

Panky regards you with suspicion and tomato sauce.

Miss Sasha, Mr. Sasha and the little Sashas arrived safely at home yesterday, in time to contract pinkeye today. Fortunately for me, that’s happening over a thousand miles from the library where I put on lipstick – much to the shock of my co-workers – and posed for pictures. The anti-hunger project is just about complete. Workers will take away the labeled boxes on Thursday. Today, I tossed canned goods while someone else counted and we stacked them until we could toss, count and stack no more; after work, I fell into a dreamy nap, in which I dreamed I was being nice to people and from which I awoke in a cold sweat. Recently, a person I trust and respect scoffed at the unnamed university’s anti-hunger project.

Circe: Can you believe it? A canned goods drive! That does nothing to solve the underlying problems.
Me: It solves two problems: what will these families eat, wash and brush with for a month or so and what presents will these homeless kids get for their gift-giving holiday, but you’re right. Nothing changes.

This is the work I can do within the framework the unnamed university offers me and I can totally rock it, but nothing changes. Is that enough?