...what lion?

hola.
i've rearranged my room for the eight hundredth time, changing things i have control over rather than the ones i don't. its a sick psychle. now it looks like pickle. i've managed to move most of the clutter (aka my stuff) into a)taped shoe boxes and b) a little closet in the basement. at least most of it is in one place. i'm good with that. i'm getting used to the new job and i've just noticed that my keyboard is super dusty. yuck.
i was looking at the local thrift store for a little bookcase or something, instead i found a cute little dress for hollie. it has all your basic primary colours, and fuschia. what would a dress be like without that? the fabric is little squares of cute outlined safari animals, an elephant, a tiger...lots of hearts and some trees. it has two front pockets and ties in the back. kids are fun. fun like yellow lion backpacks with bright green straps and granola bars inside. what was that comic with the giraffe and the elephant, and the music notes....it was so great.
ciao.

When I never have a cat, I'll make sure it has one of these.

Today I wore these.












Tonight I would like this.

and this.













a little of this.


and this in a continuous clay rythym of silent stop imagi-motion.












...and now i'm hearing this.

Feeling This.

My grandmother has outlived four of her five children.

We burried the last of four daughters today. The mass was traditional and sad. Not at all what a memorial should be. This passing, unlike previous passings in my chronologically condensed history of it all, was jarring news. Secrecy was sworn and cancer concealed. The gravity of this falls hard on my pillow when sleep persists.

My aunt fought long enough to meet her first grandson. I have a new cousin. He bit his 5 week old thumb at me.

Hollie asked for one of many small beaded bracelets I had on today, a good way to keep her occupied at the church. On the way out I turned around to see her and the friend she calls Greggie crouched across from each other in the double doorway. Little hands and big hands picking up a plethora of tiny white beads from the floor. My heart hugged me a little and I exhaled. I captured the image in my head before I walked over to help. A broken bracelet is nothing. Helping hands when the beads fall where they may means everything. Good deeds smile vicariously.


The new job is a colourful stepping stone of dedicated distraction.