Skip to main content

Somewhere out there

There is a house that won't mind a microbus parked in front. A microbus with a new tan gloss paint and shiny silver accents.

There is a kitchen that will love wallpaper with tiny fruits and vegetables smiling and cavorting, purchased from eBay for a bargain.

There is a garden that will languish under the Texas sun, waiting for its mistress to come home, change, and water it in prairie or homemade egl dresses.

There are chickens waiting to be tucked under arm and carried around while abovementioned mistress drops eggs into her apron pockets.

There is a patio for large jars of sun tea and herbs steeping in castile soap.

There is a counter where bread will be left to rise on Saturdays.

There are windows where prisms and crystals will hang.

There is soil for tuberoses, columbine, delphinium, and hollyhocks.

There is a place for sheep. What will we do with the wool? Make shag carpeting. Duh.

Popular posts from this blog

New place

This is the second lunch I've passed in this downtown Barnes and Noble. I like this place. If I worked here I would undoubtedly come here for lunch. It is going to be hard forfeiting the hour and fifteen lunches, but normal life is less stressful than this. I am not cut out for city living. I still had driving troubles today. These one way streets are so difficult. I don't understand parking, and I like finding locations that I "cain't miss" from the road. Everything is so densely packed. Everyone else seems to have walked somewhere, but I celebrate lunchtime as the time to get as far away from the work as possble with as much comfort as possible, and Subway, I'm sorry, is not comfortable. Last night I slept from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. when I had to call in. I have slept so much lately, but I feel in such a muddle. My head is pounding. If I were home I don't think I could put myself together enough to do any of my things. I really long to do things, too. Writing...

Gervaise

1789 Gervaise was the first one to enter Delphinia's bedchamber. Golden light spread through a crack in the white curtains, throwing a lacey pattern onto the silk-shrouded bed. Delphinia lay in the finest guest bedchamber in the castle. It had been converted from the room of the dowager Markgrafin upon her death. Though Gervaise's entrance was not quiet, there was no stirring in the midst of the great bed. Gently Gervaise laid down the tray of chocolate and great cinnamon rolls and approached the bed, pushing aside the curtain to view the prone figure there. Delphinia lay in a contorted state, her limbs drawn up against her protectively, looking like a frightened child, though she was in the depths of sleep. Her hair, dark-colored, the finer strands gilded and curling around her face and brow, was mangled, freed from its pins without a combing. She wore a loose white shift, no nightgown. Gervaise was not offended by disorder or carelessness, but Delphinia's disarray gave he...