The weather is strange & I sleep & wake at odd hours. I dislike heat. I am ready for cooler weather. There have been dreams of alien crime scenes, with strange machinery & unidentifiable puddles of gore. I can only imagine what this says about my psyche.
I did not write this week, although I was efficient in other ways. Still, it feels like fail. I came home from work yesterday after a 6 a.m. shift & took a nap & cooked a pot of stew & some homemade soup and a bunch of spaghetti sauce. Sometimes I get a little hyper and want to have things in the fridge for the week. I sliced my thumb with the potato peeler and didn't notice until later. Now there is a tiny flap of disconnected thumb, which irritates me but I am glad to say is still attached & didn't end up in the stew, because that would be gross. I keep reading through my cookbooks & wanting to make fancy things like saffron cookies and chocolate almond gateau but who would eat it all? There are only three of us. (Speaking of cooking, the last poem I wrote was about Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd & I wonder if this has inspired the cooking marathons. Ha.)
M accidentally took BOTH of the chargers for my cell phone out of town with him & my battery ran out of juice yesterday afternoon so I am sans phone for at least another day. This is both liberating & upsetting. I am not much of a phone talker, but I like the comfort of *having* the damned thing, just in case.
I just finished reading Arcadia Falls by Carol Goodman & I enjoyed it very much although it was quite similar to her earlier books. I have been making more trips to the library these days, which makes me happy.
I need to wash my floors & catch up on my reading & bake something pumpkin-flavored & write creepy poems & read the submissions in my inbox for blossombones & organize the scads of paperwork sitting in piles on my office chair. Instead I am writing about it which seems counterproductive but it helps me think.
I have the urge to do too many things at once. My horoscope says that October will be a glorious month. I am still waiting for the impending awesomeness. Maybe someone will bake me a pie.
routines and rest
3 days ago
2 comments:
I wish I could bake you a pie! But, for various reasons, you are probably better off without any pie I might bake. One reason relates to the finger slicing! No, really, I was just peeling potatoes and thinking of mishaps (having had one a week ago) and old people and sharp peelers...and then I read this morning's poem in Writer's Almanac...and then your blog entry. Sigh...slices of coincidii....
I bet you make an excellent pie! Homemade pie does not travel well, though...
I stabbed myself in the same thumb with an especially vicious-looking cactus at work today. I may have to avoid sharp potato peelers, too. I am the queen of mishaps.
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