five things


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tea leaves

There are more lists of shopping in my notebook than the beginning of paragraphs, or notes that may become inventions, or ideas for blog posts.

My lovely friend was 15 minutes late meeting me for lunch today, which meant that I checked Twitter several times, sent a text message, added a tweet, updated Instagram, eyeballed the door, began on this post (in my notebook) and checked Twitter again. Sitting there in the restaurant on my own made me twitchy. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.

I was able to meet her at all because I took the day off today. Just because I have leave due to me and my company likes me to use it. Leaving bed after I usually arrive at work felt so decadent.

My houndling has found a ball (in that place balls disappear to, I suppose, next to socks) that makes a very satisfying thud when she drops it on the floor. I know this because she’s just dropped the ball on the floor, retrieved it, and dropped it again, three times in a row. Do you think she’s trying to tell me something?

I read most of a whole book this weekend, and I cried at the end of it. It happens seldom, a book causing tears, and leaves me feeling more raw than any emotionally-manipulative episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

(Just five things, just a little snapshot of my brain, and there is a post here. Not very difficult, right?)


still here


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still here

I’m here.

With a new job and darker hair, in autumn instead of summer, I’m here.

Still without a bedroom cupboard, but with a new typewriter added to my collection as if that’s a consolation, I’m here.

See, much is the same.

Quiet of voice, shaky of heart, I’m here.

I’m still here.


happy birthday little blog


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One year ago today, I decided that my first post (published, not written) was good enough to stay here, exposed for the world to see and allowing for the expectation of more posts to come.

And they have, for the most part.

The month of February 2013 is excluded from that achievement. This little blog has been as lonely as the jersey I began knitting in January, and the new recipe books left untouched on the shelf.

I haven’t had nothing to say in that time. I just… haven’t quite gotten the words out.

This past year has made that feeling acute as it’s never been before.

Not because I have hordes of readers waiting in anticipation for more words, but because I like coming here. And I think that sitting here, stringing words together, allowing them to show up and then rearranging them, deleting some, adding others…

Sitting here, stringing words together, is good for me. Happy birthday little blog.


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