Carving Out Pumpkins
There is a place called the pumpkin diner. Here the pumpkins go and sit at the counter or in booths and order oven-roasted pumpkin or pumpkin pie, or pumpkin ice cream topped with pumpkin seeds.
They can't eat it but most enjoy it nevertheless. There are a few saddened that their friends and neighbors have been made into such delicious treats but they come to the diner anyway. They believe that this is the compensation for life.
There are other options, such as staying home, but many cannot fathom this and insist on dining at the pumpkin diner. The ones who do stay home are ostracized, called disloyal and traitorous, unpumpkinlike. There have been known smashings, but no one claims the guilt or heroism.
When it's time to leave, the pumpkins on the stools roll off and inevitably chip pieces of themselves on the hard floor. Some have managed to break into smithereens and gush soggy pulp, the tiny seeds clinging in terror to the strands holding them together, inches from the green linoleum, where the hulls lay, lifeless. All the other pumpkins turn away.
When all the pumpkins have left and are heading for home, the broken rinds and flesh and pulp are cleaned up and mixed with cinnamon and sugar and nutmeg and eggs and milk. Turning these casualties into something all-American, something appetizing, something sweet.
-Me.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Like Sands Through The Hourglass...
Living at our new place for almost a year now and we have neighbors, though not as exciting as "the whore and her sister" and "the cougar who lives below us" from our previous abode. Here we have "the douche bag" or "DB" for short, the old lady and her son, and the lonely, old woman who pushes her dog in a pink baby carriage.
DB is a man who has a hairy chest, (and we know because he likes to wear open shirts) a lovely fake tan, receding hairline and just tries to emanate a "cool" persona but fails and only succeeds to exude "douche bag".
The lady and her son live across the hall and he is maybe 50, has down syndrome, and runs away from me whenever he sees me. She is a sweet, southerner who often parks her car crookedly.
The pink-carriaged dog lady lives below us. She once tapped on the ceiling at midnight when we were banging on the bed. We were literally banging on the bed because we just bought it from IKEA and had to assemble it with hammers and nails. Rich and she never got along well after that. Although, she's very pleasant to me. Her dog likes to jump on my leg whenever it's not secure in it's carriage.
More newcomers, haven't really met them all and saving my opinions and vignettes for another day.
Me.
Living at our new place for almost a year now and we have neighbors, though not as exciting as "the whore and her sister" and "the cougar who lives below us" from our previous abode. Here we have "the douche bag" or "DB" for short, the old lady and her son, and the lonely, old woman who pushes her dog in a pink baby carriage.
DB is a man who has a hairy chest, (and we know because he likes to wear open shirts) a lovely fake tan, receding hairline and just tries to emanate a "cool" persona but fails and only succeeds to exude "douche bag".
The lady and her son live across the hall and he is maybe 50, has down syndrome, and runs away from me whenever he sees me. She is a sweet, southerner who often parks her car crookedly.
The pink-carriaged dog lady lives below us. She once tapped on the ceiling at midnight when we were banging on the bed. We were literally banging on the bed because we just bought it from IKEA and had to assemble it with hammers and nails. Rich and she never got along well after that. Although, she's very pleasant to me. Her dog likes to jump on my leg whenever it's not secure in it's carriage.
More newcomers, haven't really met them all and saving my opinions and vignettes for another day.
Me.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Kink-os
We have a wireless printer that is sitting up in my little "office" area. For a long time I thought that it only printed on random occassions, whenever it felt good enough to print. I found out, after careful study, that it prints only in months that are numerically divisible by two, contain no "u" in their names and have more than 30 days. Also, it will only print the amount of sheets to correspond to the day and date. For example, it is Wednesday the 10th, which is then converted to:
Wednesday = 4 (counting aloud from week's beginning, Sunday being "1")
Second week of the month = 2 (which becomes the exponent, also known as "to the power of")
10th day of the month of September which is 9 = 10 *9
The formula is then seen as:
10 x 9 / 4*2
Written as: 90/16
And quite literally it will print up only 5.625 pages, no matter that you only wanted 2 pages or that you have 8 pages.
Of course, this would never work out because it is September which does not fit two of the three conditions, aforementioned.
To Staples!
Me.
We have a wireless printer that is sitting up in my little "office" area. For a long time I thought that it only printed on random occassions, whenever it felt good enough to print. I found out, after careful study, that it prints only in months that are numerically divisible by two, contain no "u" in their names and have more than 30 days. Also, it will only print the amount of sheets to correspond to the day and date. For example, it is Wednesday the 10th, which is then converted to:
Wednesday = 4 (counting aloud from week's beginning, Sunday being "1")
Second week of the month = 2 (which becomes the exponent, also known as "to the power of")
10th day of the month of September which is 9 = 10 *9
The formula is then seen as:
10 x 9 / 4*2
Written as: 90/16
And quite literally it will print up only 5.625 pages, no matter that you only wanted 2 pages or that you have 8 pages.
Of course, this would never work out because it is September which does not fit two of the three conditions, aforementioned.
To Staples!
Me.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
We've come closest to a hurricane yet. Tropical storm Fay has hurled insults at our windows and thrashed against our walls. We endured days of howling winds and slashing rains. At dusk she would repent and let us see a glimmer of leaky sun, a poached egg on grey toast.
There is a black and white cat that lives around our building. It's tail is half lopped off. For weeks I brought water and food, tempting it to scurry warily from beneath the shade of a car. Then I began to notice that there were other bowls placed by tires, beneath the scraggly trees, pushed into bushes.
One day, before the storm, I met a fellow tenant who had a bowl of kibble in hand and a yowling cat following. She told me that "they" had named it Louie. I preferred Louise.
While the winds sneaked through cracks and moaned in desperation, I worried about the stray cat who has deemed our building a refuge. Today, I braved the gusts and set out to bring food and water.
I saw I was not the only one with the same idea.
On the soaked grass were strewn about several dishes and bowls brimming with water and debris. A wet homage to our building's demigod.
There is a black and white cat that lives around our building. It's tail is half lopped off. For weeks I brought water and food, tempting it to scurry warily from beneath the shade of a car. Then I began to notice that there were other bowls placed by tires, beneath the scraggly trees, pushed into bushes.
One day, before the storm, I met a fellow tenant who had a bowl of kibble in hand and a yowling cat following. She told me that "they" had named it Louie. I preferred Louise.
While the winds sneaked through cracks and moaned in desperation, I worried about the stray cat who has deemed our building a refuge. Today, I braved the gusts and set out to bring food and water.
I saw I was not the only one with the same idea.
On the soaked grass were strewn about several dishes and bowls brimming with water and debris. A wet homage to our building's demigod.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
So in two months and 11 days I will be 28 and still I am baby-less. Gah. We haven't been trying because we're still in phase "so how do we pay for the medical bills?" We have come up with a plan but now we're at "so is this economy gonna get any better in the near future?". What looms in my head is the idea that what if we go through all this only to find out we can't have kids anyway. How should I look at that? As a learning experience? As a sign from God? As just another block and move forward to plan "let's adopt!"? I always figured that we would eventually adopt children once we had a few of our own, but if we couldn't we'd just move through to the next step.
I worry alot about not being able to get pregnant and I worry a tad about being pregnant and feeling the symptoms. I only had two people who told me that it didn't hurt one bit, one was mom (she said I popped out no prob.) and the other was a co-worker who loved every minute of it. I have had about 30 or so people tell me that it was beyond painful "but worth it". I know I'm pretty above average in a lot of ways but I'm thinking that I may just be average when it comes to pain. Although, I think I may have a higher pain tolerance than most people. I do have my teeth drilled at the dentist with no novacaine or any other anesthetics.
Well, gotta make kids first before the pain. Besides, doesn't the pain make you feel alive?
Me.
I worry alot about not being able to get pregnant and I worry a tad about being pregnant and feeling the symptoms. I only had two people who told me that it didn't hurt one bit, one was mom (she said I popped out no prob.) and the other was a co-worker who loved every minute of it. I have had about 30 or so people tell me that it was beyond painful "but worth it". I know I'm pretty above average in a lot of ways but I'm thinking that I may just be average when it comes to pain. Although, I think I may have a higher pain tolerance than most people. I do have my teeth drilled at the dentist with no novacaine or any other anesthetics.
Well, gotta make kids first before the pain. Besides, doesn't the pain make you feel alive?
Me.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Sorry, I know you're tired of looking at Hyde's picture whenever you come to my blog. Here's something a little different. Ahem...
Once, just a few years back, there was a man. Where he grew up and if he had a family does not concern me. About his past and what he ate has nothing to do with this story. The intriguing thing is that one day, on a walk about his neighborhood he gave of himself. It was to a woman, she carried sacks of groceries. He waited to the point where it would have toppled over the sidewalk and everyone would have had to steer out of the way, then he gave her a hand. She accepted it gratefully. When she asked if he wanted it back he declined and went home.
He was surprised at how light he felt.
The next day he gave away his leg and the hair off his head. The day after that he passed over his eyes to a man who needed them, his mouth to someone who wasn't heard. On Saturday he gave his ears to a husband who wouldn't listen. He gave away his nose, after taking in one last sniff, and gave a woman his chin.
At night, on the days he gave pieces of himself away, he would lay in bed and with his left hand, feel what he had left to give. He had a shoulder, a thigh, one bellybutton, a head and a torso, and of course, his left hand.
He spent days finding people to give himself to and slowly. Piece by piece he did. Until, he had only one thing left to give, it was something that he had no name for. It floated somewhere between the ground and the sky, and wandered around and around, letting the air of people passing take it freely. He didn't know how to give it away and couldn't seem to get anyone's attention.
After a few weeks of this endless floating he decided that he would just have to give himself to everything. And so it happened. In trees and dirt, the shit on someone's shoe and the vapor that made clouds. He crumbled off of a muffin and passed through the gills of a fish. He was no longer and everything at once. He had given and was.
*Author's note:
That was a horrible ending but since it's time for my nap, deal with it. I'm not sure what influenced me to write this and I didn't mean it to be so transparent but it is what it is. I may have to rewrite sometime.
Once, just a few years back, there was a man. Where he grew up and if he had a family does not concern me. About his past and what he ate has nothing to do with this story. The intriguing thing is that one day, on a walk about his neighborhood he gave of himself. It was to a woman, she carried sacks of groceries. He waited to the point where it would have toppled over the sidewalk and everyone would have had to steer out of the way, then he gave her a hand. She accepted it gratefully. When she asked if he wanted it back he declined and went home.
He was surprised at how light he felt.
The next day he gave away his leg and the hair off his head. The day after that he passed over his eyes to a man who needed them, his mouth to someone who wasn't heard. On Saturday he gave his ears to a husband who wouldn't listen. He gave away his nose, after taking in one last sniff, and gave a woman his chin.
At night, on the days he gave pieces of himself away, he would lay in bed and with his left hand, feel what he had left to give. He had a shoulder, a thigh, one bellybutton, a head and a torso, and of course, his left hand.
He spent days finding people to give himself to and slowly. Piece by piece he did. Until, he had only one thing left to give, it was something that he had no name for. It floated somewhere between the ground and the sky, and wandered around and around, letting the air of people passing take it freely. He didn't know how to give it away and couldn't seem to get anyone's attention.
After a few weeks of this endless floating he decided that he would just have to give himself to everything. And so it happened. In trees and dirt, the shit on someone's shoe and the vapor that made clouds. He crumbled off of a muffin and passed through the gills of a fish. He was no longer and everything at once. He had given and was.
*Author's note:
That was a horrible ending but since it's time for my nap, deal with it. I'm not sure what influenced me to write this and I didn't mean it to be so transparent but it is what it is. I may have to rewrite sometime.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Hyde and Seek
Had a weird nightmare a few nights ago. Do you guys remember Hyde from "That 70's Show"?
Well, in this nightmare he was my gynecologist and he was "checking the goods" with this aparatus that reminded me of that mini hands-free vacuum that the dentist hooks into your mouth to suck up the spit, except that this had a cotton swab at the end, I guess to strain any big pieces. And I kept insisting that he couldn't do it because I was on my period. I couldn't move, and all I could do was say "no" and he still did it, and it hurt a little, and the aparatus would just suck up red, red blood.
Later that day I told Rich about it and he shrugged it off. But while I was telling him, it dawned on me that my scared mind had transposed a not so scary image over the truth!! Hyde doesn't scare me, in fact, I could probably take him down since he's mostly high anyway (I know he's just a character, bear with me as I descend into lunacy). So, what I realized, as Rich and I walked to our car, from the gym, was that, I had been abducted by aliens and they were retrieving the tiny baby that they had implanted me with so that they can raise a race of human-alien babies.
Seriously! Hyde, when I picture him, has a 'fro and sunglasses on. But what it really was, was a big head and large black eyes.
The next day I felt these tiny little twinges of pain in my uterus...
Had a weird nightmare a few nights ago. Do you guys remember Hyde from "That 70's Show"?
Well, in this nightmare he was my gynecologist and he was "checking the goods" with this aparatus that reminded me of that mini hands-free vacuum that the dentist hooks into your mouth to suck up the spit, except that this had a cotton swab at the end, I guess to strain any big pieces. And I kept insisting that he couldn't do it because I was on my period. I couldn't move, and all I could do was say "no" and he still did it, and it hurt a little, and the aparatus would just suck up red, red blood.
Later that day I told Rich about it and he shrugged it off. But while I was telling him, it dawned on me that my scared mind had transposed a not so scary image over the truth!! Hyde doesn't scare me, in fact, I could probably take him down since he's mostly high anyway (I know he's just a character, bear with me as I descend into lunacy). So, what I realized, as Rich and I walked to our car, from the gym, was that, I had been abducted by aliens and they were retrieving the tiny baby that they had implanted me with so that they can raise a race of human-alien babies.
Seriously! Hyde, when I picture him, has a 'fro and sunglasses on. But what it really was, was a big head and large black eyes.
The next day I felt these tiny little twinges of pain in my uterus...
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Anniversary
Today Rich and I celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary. So quickly it's gone by and yet so many things have happened to make it seem as if it were ages ago. We celebrated by eating roast beef sandwiches and eating orange cake with whipped cream frosting. That's sort of how we ended our wedding evening; a trip to Stew Leonard's brought about great mustard and great oranges. Strange happenings that made it all memorable. Today was quiet but lovely, with warm weather (unlike our scarf-wearing, slushed-filled streets wedding day) and a nice sunset. I'm glad I'm married to him. What more can I say?
Today Rich and I celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary. So quickly it's gone by and yet so many things have happened to make it seem as if it were ages ago. We celebrated by eating roast beef sandwiches and eating orange cake with whipped cream frosting. That's sort of how we ended our wedding evening; a trip to Stew Leonard's brought about great mustard and great oranges. Strange happenings that made it all memorable. Today was quiet but lovely, with warm weather (unlike our scarf-wearing, slushed-filled streets wedding day) and a nice sunset. I'm glad I'm married to him. What more can I say?
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Exclusively Arboreal
When I was in college I had an English professor (the kind that teaches English not a prof. from England) that would start off each class by having us write whatever into a "journal" and then read from it, at random. One day he pointed at me and asked me to read what I wrote. So I did.
This is what I wrote:
Today the monkeys were submissive and clingy. They let me groom them with my undeft fingers without complaint. They insisted on sitting at either side of my waist and grasped at my neck with a pressure that nearly took me down. They both cooed at me in soft "meet" and eventually fell asleep as I waltzed around the room, dizzyingly, slowly, in time to the music. I undid their sweet little paws, with the fur on the top, and placed them into their cupboard, where they shivered and huddled and napped.
Alright, that's not really what I wrote. I wrote about planting strawberries and my happiness that spring was in the air. But that was not as interesting as my monkeys. How are your monkeys and where have you hidden them?
When I was in college I had an English professor (the kind that teaches English not a prof. from England) that would start off each class by having us write whatever into a "journal" and then read from it, at random. One day he pointed at me and asked me to read what I wrote. So I did.
This is what I wrote:
Today the monkeys were submissive and clingy. They let me groom them with my undeft fingers without complaint. They insisted on sitting at either side of my waist and grasped at my neck with a pressure that nearly took me down. They both cooed at me in soft "meet" and eventually fell asleep as I waltzed around the room, dizzyingly, slowly, in time to the music. I undid their sweet little paws, with the fur on the top, and placed them into their cupboard, where they shivered and huddled and napped.
Alright, that's not really what I wrote. I wrote about planting strawberries and my happiness that spring was in the air. But that was not as interesting as my monkeys. How are your monkeys and where have you hidden them?
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Make Sure To Read The Prior Post Before Reading This If You Haven't Already Done So!
The Sunday it happened had the beginnings of the perfect day. It was right before sunrise in late spring, the air had a bite that made us rush around on our bare feet searching for socks. But we knew the chill would lift with the sun, leaving only crisp blue skies, light breezes and that acrid smell of warming soil that I always associate with happiness.
Into the car, the four of us, racing the houses and lightpoles, until we moved so far ahead they disappeared behind us. We drove, rarely saying anything, except maybe to point out a cluster of deer or to sing softly with the radio; Sunday morning accoustics, only songs done accoustically, and usually live. Once in a while the semi-silence was punctuated by a snore, my mother's or brother's or my own. In this manner, we reached that valley looking up that hill. We were a little early, still in murky darkness, my parents sat and held a quiet conversation.
While they whispered away about work I kept vigilant watch of the hill. I cranked the window open an inch and heard the soft sadness of an owl's hoot. As I looked I saw the sun's rays appear from behind the hill, fanlike and beautiful. I had never known that the sun could create these beautiful crests of radiant lights. In the hues of the rainbow it flickered and danced and steadily grew stronger and brighter. But as it grew higher, that's when I saw that it was not the sun peeking over the hill but beautiful bright forms, grasping hands, steadily ascending. When they reached the peak, they swayed casting off spears of orange-red and blue-white, greens, yellows and all else in between. Then I realized that the light was emitting this music. It spoke of joy and sadness as well. As I listened I noticed that the lights moved in every direction, that one note changed with the dips of the mountain, and changed again as it dissipated into the air, their movement was making the music.
Then suddenly they were gone, the sun was bright and we were cast into the shadow of the mountain. I saw my parents looking at me and I asked what it was. They smiled at one another, my mom placing a finger to her lips and glanced at my brother. He was looking about, half asleep and yawning he closed his eyes, and only opened them again when we arrived home.
We never spoke of it, except that every Sunday for years we would drive up and watch it. I was always filled with joy and sadness every time. We watched for any signs that my brother would see it, he became the age that I was when I saw it but that too passed and he never said a word. I once asked my mom why we didn't just ask him but she told me that it would create an illusion in his head, that he wouldn't really see it, just see what we described to him and claim that he could. So they waited. I left for college and had a life of my own. I saw it only three times more before I moved far away. My parents finally gave up on the day of my brother's graduation.
One day, I called him and the conversation went back to our childhood, and I told him how I missed those drives up. He said he never understood why we did that, he figured it was some form of family bonding. That's when I told him about the beings and how they made me feel and the music they made. His response was, oh those things? Why didn't we just watch them from our backyard, I saw them there as much as I saw them upstate?
This post is purely fictional and are drawn from my imagination. No, I was not high when I wrote this. Any semblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Hope you liked it, write me comments if your did or didn't and why.
Me.
The Sunday it happened had the beginnings of the perfect day. It was right before sunrise in late spring, the air had a bite that made us rush around on our bare feet searching for socks. But we knew the chill would lift with the sun, leaving only crisp blue skies, light breezes and that acrid smell of warming soil that I always associate with happiness.
Into the car, the four of us, racing the houses and lightpoles, until we moved so far ahead they disappeared behind us. We drove, rarely saying anything, except maybe to point out a cluster of deer or to sing softly with the radio; Sunday morning accoustics, only songs done accoustically, and usually live. Once in a while the semi-silence was punctuated by a snore, my mother's or brother's or my own. In this manner, we reached that valley looking up that hill. We were a little early, still in murky darkness, my parents sat and held a quiet conversation.
While they whispered away about work I kept vigilant watch of the hill. I cranked the window open an inch and heard the soft sadness of an owl's hoot. As I looked I saw the sun's rays appear from behind the hill, fanlike and beautiful. I had never known that the sun could create these beautiful crests of radiant lights. In the hues of the rainbow it flickered and danced and steadily grew stronger and brighter. But as it grew higher, that's when I saw that it was not the sun peeking over the hill but beautiful bright forms, grasping hands, steadily ascending. When they reached the peak, they swayed casting off spears of orange-red and blue-white, greens, yellows and all else in between. Then I realized that the light was emitting this music. It spoke of joy and sadness as well. As I listened I noticed that the lights moved in every direction, that one note changed with the dips of the mountain, and changed again as it dissipated into the air, their movement was making the music.
Then suddenly they were gone, the sun was bright and we were cast into the shadow of the mountain. I saw my parents looking at me and I asked what it was. They smiled at one another, my mom placing a finger to her lips and glanced at my brother. He was looking about, half asleep and yawning he closed his eyes, and only opened them again when we arrived home.
We never spoke of it, except that every Sunday for years we would drive up and watch it. I was always filled with joy and sadness every time. We watched for any signs that my brother would see it, he became the age that I was when I saw it but that too passed and he never said a word. I once asked my mom why we didn't just ask him but she told me that it would create an illusion in his head, that he wouldn't really see it, just see what we described to him and claim that he could. So they waited. I left for college and had a life of my own. I saw it only three times more before I moved far away. My parents finally gave up on the day of my brother's graduation.
One day, I called him and the conversation went back to our childhood, and I told him how I missed those drives up. He said he never understood why we did that, he figured it was some form of family bonding. That's when I told him about the beings and how they made me feel and the music they made. His response was, oh those things? Why didn't we just watch them from our backyard, I saw them there as much as I saw them upstate?
This post is purely fictional and are drawn from my imagination. No, I was not high when I wrote this. Any semblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Hope you liked it, write me comments if your did or didn't and why.
Me.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Every Sunday we'd go for a drive upstate. Always to the same place, passing the same objects, the same bridges, the same barns and fields. Always in the early morning, with the rays of sun coming up behind the mountains, or in beating rain, where the trees swayed and the car rocked. In mists and fogs where everything blurred and shifted and became something else or in the snow, where the old car's heater blasted hot air, drying up our sinuses, our noses whistling for the rest of the day.
We would park at the same spot every Sunday. A valley that looked up to a small hill. I'd look, imitating my parents' expectant gazes, up that hill, occassionally seeing a flock of birds but nothing more. We'd sit in the car for an hour and my parents would stare up at that hill. Then they'd both draw a quick breath. I'd go on staring as well, seeing nothing but clouds shift and the day grow brighter. Once in a while my parents would look at me wonderingly but seemed to see something missing and turn back. A few minutes later we'd take the long road home...
I'll continue this at another time...
We would park at the same spot every Sunday. A valley that looked up to a small hill. I'd look, imitating my parents' expectant gazes, up that hill, occassionally seeing a flock of birds but nothing more. We'd sit in the car for an hour and my parents would stare up at that hill. Then they'd both draw a quick breath. I'd go on staring as well, seeing nothing but clouds shift and the day grow brighter. Once in a while my parents would look at me wonderingly but seemed to see something missing and turn back. A few minutes later we'd take the long road home...
I'll continue this at another time...
Happy New Year All!
I've got a few minutes to kill before I head off to church this morning so it's a perfect excuse to rehash last year and make promises that I need to keep this year.
I read a bunch of books and reread some old ones, saddened over the end of the Harry Potter series but excited over a new set/series I'll be getting (thanks Mike!) None of the new books were worth too much praise, except for A Thousand Splendid Suns and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.
Moved to a new place in February then moved to a new place in December. I think that almost counts as nomadic. Where to this year?
Gained weight then lost the fat and gained muscle (I think). According to my mom I was "so fat" when she saw me in May, then "not so fat" when she saw me in December, but I weighed about the same when she saw me the first time. Eh.
Had the most horrible August last year, with as much damage on the psyche as one could take, but luckily it just got better. Hopefully these next years will be our "fat cow years". With all the stuff we've been buying looks as if it's started already.
Last night I had a dream that I was pregnant and ready to give birth. I was a little anxious because I could feel the beginnings of pain (it could be due to the salmon I ate last night) but excited as well because I'd finally see this baby I'd been waiting for. I also happened to glance at the calendar on the wall and saw that the date was: September 9. I didn't know what year it was...
Didn't reach any pinnacle of success last year but I have hopes and plans this year so wish me luck!
I found out last year that another reality exists, different from this one. It only peeks out when you're not expecting it, but I'll work on being more familiar with it. If I disappear, know I went to a brighter, better reality.
Mike, you and I have to practice our sibling psychic connection. There's a million dollars up for grabs. So get to honing!
Have a healthy, prosperous new year all!
I've got a few minutes to kill before I head off to church this morning so it's a perfect excuse to rehash last year and make promises that I need to keep this year.
I read a bunch of books and reread some old ones, saddened over the end of the Harry Potter series but excited over a new set/series I'll be getting (thanks Mike!) None of the new books were worth too much praise, except for A Thousand Splendid Suns and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.
Moved to a new place in February then moved to a new place in December. I think that almost counts as nomadic. Where to this year?
Gained weight then lost the fat and gained muscle (I think). According to my mom I was "so fat" when she saw me in May, then "not so fat" when she saw me in December, but I weighed about the same when she saw me the first time. Eh.
Had the most horrible August last year, with as much damage on the psyche as one could take, but luckily it just got better. Hopefully these next years will be our "fat cow years". With all the stuff we've been buying looks as if it's started already.
Last night I had a dream that I was pregnant and ready to give birth. I was a little anxious because I could feel the beginnings of pain (it could be due to the salmon I ate last night) but excited as well because I'd finally see this baby I'd been waiting for. I also happened to glance at the calendar on the wall and saw that the date was: September 9. I didn't know what year it was...
Didn't reach any pinnacle of success last year but I have hopes and plans this year so wish me luck!
I found out last year that another reality exists, different from this one. It only peeks out when you're not expecting it, but I'll work on being more familiar with it. If I disappear, know I went to a brighter, better reality.
Mike, you and I have to practice our sibling psychic connection. There's a million dollars up for grabs. So get to honing!
Have a healthy, prosperous new year all!
