New Year, New Home, New Major, New Classes, New Day.

Year: This year I hope to read more. It snowed last night and today I am snuggled and reading Six Names of Beauty by Sartwell. Luscious stuff.

Home: The home is lovely, warm, clean, full of fabric and candles, and lacking visitation hours. We cook with gas here, which makes everything taste better. I love the girls, and I foresee wonderful times ahead. Jasper the kitty (not really a kitty anymore) is living with us too; giving us a nice dose of male presence all day long (except when he is hiding in the closet). He has recently discovered the shower head and its many dripping wonders.
Last night was a grand housewarming get together. I am so blessed to be surrounded by such excellence.

Major: Yes, again. I'm now Philosophy and Theatre.

Classes: Exciting. Aesthetics, Playwriting, Hebrew II, Justice.

Day: Snow dusting every branch, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Just like people. I need to remember that. I'm not trying to be corny here, much as its not working.
Shlomy is right: let us be fully present every day. I know I will be failing at that a lot. I apologize sincerely to you if you have felt slighted by me in any way, and I am sorry for my selfishness.

In other news, Jasper woke me up this morning purring loudly in my face (very adorable!) because, I assumed, he was hungry. So, I got up and fed him and he was ravenously pushing me out of the way to get to the bowl- he even was licking the knife I used to cut his gelatinous food mass (always delicious) into his bowl. This was about 9am. So, 9:30 Rachel wakes up and says that she had already fed him at 7. Very sneaky. Very sneaky indeed. Now he is lounging under my side table- his new favorite spot when he can't get into the closet.

Thoughts on an Orange.

I

What is it, exactly, that’s like

popping in your mouth a section of orange

and crudely crunching on a seed,

knowing it’s broken into so many pieces-

there’s no way to get them all out.

II

I wonder if performing abdominal surgery

is very much like using the end of my pencil

to tear the papery flesh membrane of

the thinner part of an orange wedge—

still attached to the remaining

half-or-so of round crystalline fruit—

to victoriously poke out a seed.

III

What makes a good orange?

malleable

meaty and crisp

vibrant and cool,

cleansing

clear; not dusty

a few seeds.

In this place, in a colorful armchair hugging my knees, carefully sitting crosslegged.
Perfectly put, with a sweatered, pacing man waiting for a webpage to load or for a phone call.
Many composition notebooks. A muscled leather coat that's been touched by many hands and years secured over the shoulders of the tall chair. He's standing now. Tapping a boot-toe on the ground. Over and over. Backing up, going forward; bending at the knee. Leaning over, pulling on the leather. Tapping heels on the ground, stretching calves.
Ever the pull of the computer screen,
pulling his eyes.

Then, he is gone.


I can't find a good enough video of this song, but go listen to it.
The Commander Thinks Aloud by The Long Winters

Panera coffee is awful.

Ah the rainy Saturday. Lying on a big smooshy bed in my pjs, I'm not going out today.
I finally have a space heater, so I can feel my hands and face.
I'm telling you, musings with turkish coffee and the best sugar cookies no kidding (that is the actual recipe name) are racking up to be quite the frequent pastime these past weeks.

But, I do miss the outward sprawl.

and these people.





once I find my camera, more pictures.