… but that’s just because he saw the length and didn’t read the content. I say it’s not a rant because the strongest profanity I used was the word “pissed.” It’s also not a rant because I just wanted to record all the details of yesterday evening’s tryst with MATA before those details got eaten by the virus that lives inside my preggo brain. (You ladies with children know the one I’m talking about.) Plus…
Well, I’m late posting this, but I’ve been slightly preoccupied. Yow. I can’t even think. I’m actually posting this from my bed with an iPad, if that tells you how out-of-whack my head is right now. My little navel orange has morphed into an avocado this week. That’s weird because around here, navel oranges tend to run bigger than avocados. So, well, whatevs. I don’t have my nifty “wacky physiological things that are happening to…
May 24 heartbeat It really kicks in at :26. Flipper makes an appearance at :35*. *That is Shane McDermott’s joke. I stole it.
Because it’s pretty out there and it’s too grey on this page. Ahhh, that’s better.
I was sitting on the couch, folding towels at around noon thirty yesterday when I got the funniest feeling in my gut: A little bloop feeling, in front, down low. Not where you’d get a gas bubble. I instantly thought, Was that…? I think that was… Oh my god! And then I got all smiley and was in the best mood all day. I didn’t expect it to come so quickly, if that’s indeed what…
I’ll be honest — I’ve had a couple of days now of nagging worry. Tuesday I slipped on a pair of pants that I was unable to button just last week and the dang things fit. I thought maybe it was a fluke so I tried on another pair and sure enough, it fit too. I mean, they fit OK but not awfully comfortably. The same thing happened Wednesday, I don’t know. I find it…
Yeah, me too. It seems that my desire to go outside and dig in the dirt has sort of been swept away along with my ability to write and take pictures. The good news is that I think I did a sufficient amount of prep work in the fall to save me some major spring ass pains. My mulched beds are not completely overrun with weeds (aside from the front bed’s four dozen or so…
When I unlocked my car to go to work last week, this is what I saw. I wondered if Ray had gotten into the car in desperate, paper-thrashing need of finding, uh, a stick of gum or something, so I went back inside and asked him if he’d been rifling through my car. And of course the answer was no, so I asked him to come look at the inside of my car, which was…
Argh, this is driving me crazy. I can’t write. My brain feels constipated but no amount of squeezing yields … anything. There’s so much happening, trails being blazed every day, and yet. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write. It feels like everything I could possibly say is trite and worn. And don’t even talk to me about taking pictures. It’s like I’ve never taken a single one in my life and wouldn’t even know…
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