mrsf
allergies. gluten. what we ingest changes our body. food is engineered to trick your system, which is a product of eons of evolution. don't let it happen.
"stir the soup, please" she called from the other room. it was getting close to the time guests were scheduled to arrive and she still had curlers in her hair and slippers on. i loved nights like this, happy to help out in the kitchen preparing for the glamorus dinner party to come.
he talks to himself all the time. he talks to me all the time. the content is totally different. he knows himself, what's happening where it really counts. he tells me only what's happening where it doesn't count so much. i'm glad he knows himself, i just wish he would be less scared about sharing it with me, too. it's a safe place.
rise and shine, she said. it was almost always after noon. she shone all the time, inside out, even through the storms, it was like a sun shower. long nights of drinking, taking advantage of the fact that her father was filthy rich and almost always out of town. not aware of the damage it (may have) caused. hung over, but joyous from the good times the night before: rise and shine, she said.
chemical. the make up of a person. be a person of substance. integrity, wholeness, truth, light.
sigh. one of my coworkers was accused of assault yesterday. he's a good dude, going through some stressful times. his buttons were pushed. he did something stupid. the other guy's calling it assault, but we all know it was him who started it. two wrongs don't make a right? he may, or may not, lose his job, which feels super disproportionate for a split second mistake.
today, my husband made a bowl of air-popped popcorn for a snack. it was less of a disaster than i was expecting, but there was too much salt. i got the air-popper as a bridal shower gift from my dear aunt m. she's recently been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. i feel nostalgic about air-poppers in general- this one i see being a family prized possession.
the handmade ones never seem to be the right size; either so small they make no impact, or so large you can't see the person across from you. my mother always had it right; long and low, lots of sparkle and texture. it always felt like a holiday. branches, candles.
the photographs are all mingled together- trying to separate them into stacks that make sense. chronologically? but once i think i have it, i find more from the summer of 95, and from the wedding i was in a year ago. i'm giving up the control of my photo albums- they will be in the order of my heart.
Take me there. I think I'm ready. It always feels scary, but I've never been too afraid to peek. Time to go over. This is my year, I can feel it.
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