Saturday, March 23, 2013

some ludicrous green shoots

When I brought my birthday roses into the kitchen to salvage what was left, I saw this:

This week has happened in spite of. I had to write a term paper which I didn't want to write, was sure I couldn't write--which seemed so pointless that it seemed a case in point of all the reasons why, beyond this degree, I cannot continue with academic English. There were, though, these roses. And yesterday I bought Tim a peace offering pie and walked to the downtown library to pick up a stack of books I had on hold. I hadn't even reached the automatic check out before I realized that I was juggling no less than five books on emotional eating--and a bakery box. Justina came over in the evening, with beer. I taught her how to knit, carried on about different types of cast ons and the wonder of Ravelry. (I must stop waiting for my life to start, or get good.)


  1. The young Bob Dylan {poet extraordinaire} hides in your soul/shadow...
    xo to you and your shadow.

    {ps. My blog is gone. Hidden from a pair of unkind eyes...A fresh one coming soon.}

  2. Dylan is someone I need to get to know better.

    I'm sorry you have to hide for the moment. Looking forward to seeing you back. I think I owe you a real letter, though.


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