minor precipitation

sometimes i check my own blog and am surprised it hasn't been updated. i try and record my life: working, sleeping, meetings; pretty unblogable stuff. sorry.

lots of feeling left behind in my own life by my own self. forgetting to relax, not taking time to type letters or journal, piles of laundry and books on my floor get swept up in random cleaning frenzies and then immediately start piling up again. crocheting left in the bag. cookie flour left in the bag. new clothes from the free sale forgotten. a newly discovered book from classic irish author edna o'brien, who i keep an eye out for, discarded on the floor. yoga mat moldering in the corner.

it feels kind of sad, i guess. well, the sleep has been worth it. the work is part of that agreement where i get to stay sheltered and fed, so unless i'm engaging in long-term thinking on it, no point in dwelling on the meaning. the making of food has been a definite high point: lots of curries with the queen. (tonight we made grilled cheese sandwiches: he has the cutest little breadslice-shaped pan to fry them in. they were delicious.) but after you eat the food, the food is gone.

there have been social connections: gnomes gathering; an old friend from b.c. who recently returned from five months in asia; another old friend who just came over to bend my ear... a few walks in the river valley and some great books... still, it feels like i've barely been present the past two weeks. it feels like my auto-pilot is on too loud.

if you were to ask me how i am, i wouldn't know.