A Reprise

My favorites: sweet potato gnocci spumoni

I do believe that one can always control the volume and pitch of one's sneeze to a certain degree. I've never heard anyone else say it, but I do think so. Last night I cleaned out my sewing room, which is likely the most disturbingly disorganized mess I've made, and I found my blue journal. I was so excited. My last entry was 10/12. I believe I lost it for that long. The fact is I remember several weeks ago when I was rummaging for some craft supplies I had stacked a great deal of mess on my desk. It all collapsed to the side, taking my journal along. I never cleaned up the mess - I have no good explanation, but I remember feeling discouraged when it happened. I have felt very overwhelmed about that room, and last night I finally found the energy to give it a try. I also discovered a host of insect shells and webs beneath my desk. It would seem someone has been very busy in my absence. I will admit I often see spiders in my sewing room - and I ignore them. If no one told ...

I am remembering the joy I felt one occasion this week as I drove to my lunch break. I am always so excited and happy when it is time for my break. One hour for myself, sweet moments to spend my best waking hours doing something worthy or fun. I thought of how my daily joys are real, how I live and breathe in these moments of feeling so grateful to be alive, and able to do the things I dream of doing, of sewing, creating or writing stories, telling stories to the world. When I was a child I never dreamed of such a thing as the Internet. I cannot believe I live in a time where it is possible for me to do the things I do. It is a strange time, now. A squirrel just scurried across the porch to press his small hands against the window and stare in at me. I still believe, as I did and as many children do, that he was trying to tell me something or otherwise guide me. I believe that animals are sensitive and intelligent in ways humans can never dream of being. Our sense of superiority to o...

I decided to renew my efforts to shop for pants at the mall. It has been at least a year and a half, possibly two years, since I have been to one, so it was a little of a culture shock, as has been in the past. My first destination, Express, seemed to have joined the trend of assigning female names to different "fits" thereby eliminating the need to use the word "slim" or imply its opposite. In addition they have increased their sizing such that I am now a size 0, rather than a 4. I have for years mail-ordered my pants from Victoria's Secret. I am "Kate." The ever-common Christie fit has a bit more "room" as the name suggests the thirty or forty something. What a sad day it will be when I find the "Amanda" fit with a bit more room and know that my day is done. I wanted to buy some jeans from Abercrombie but could not because I was too deeply embarrassed by the greeting wall mural. I actually flushed with embarrassment and teared a l...

"A woman is essentially a being of retirement and seclusion, and her nature becomes deteriorated by any employment which brings her before the public." This is all so fascinating. It seems like everything I hear and see everyone do is connected to the forgotten past by invisible threads. I won't be able to stop thinking about it now. Location: 19c quote

"The sturdy helpmate could fight Indians, kill the bear in the barn, make two pots of lye soap, and do a week's wash before dinnertime and still have the cabin neat, the children clean, and a good meal on the table when her husband came in from the fields... She was the Madonna of the Prairies..." Oh, yeah. Can it be that I am the Madonna of the Laboratory? Lol.

It sat in the truck overnight.