Sometimes I write whole blog entries in my head and forget them later. I am dreaming of houses these days--the split-level house I grew up in, creaky Gothic mansions in miniature, houses with shattered windows that remind me of jagged, broken teeth. I am sure this is meaningful, but I am too tired to parse this out.
My weekend was busy, exhausting, hot. Still, I find I like working outside, among the pepper plants and the hibiscus and the Gerber daisies. There are babies in lacy bonnets and Scotty dogs and the occasional breeze. Yesterday I watched the thunderstorm roar across the parking lot.
I think I should try to worry less, enjoy the details.
Blood Pudding Press notes
3 hours ago