. Coffee jitters + a lingering headache + I don’t actually know how I’m gonna survive in front of a computer for 8 hours on this Tuesday.
. I’m eating peanut butter from a spoon, lost in a blog, when I read these words “We celebrate his life each year on this anniversary, here in Maine, and send him flowers on the outgoing tide.” and I wonder what it’s like, to be a person that has these rituals of remembrance. This is a strange thought to have, considering the emotional depth of the entire post, but I don’t control how my mind works. I am struck at the poignancy of this sentence, of the act of sending him flowers on the outgoing tide.
. Thoughts of fresh ginger cake will not leave my head. I order a spring-form pan from Amazon and memorize the ingredient list.
. I’m just gonna go ahead and say this… I’m ready for cooler days. Give me a crisp morning, a snap in the air, an excuse to pile the heavy blankets on the bed and fix creamy soups for dipping warmed bread into.
. The bench I choose is covered in tree sap. Which means that I am now covered in tree sap. At least it smells lovely.
. Sustenance tonight is achieved by way of a leftover sauce of butternut squash-spicy chicken sausage-baby spinach that gets tossed with brown rice pasta and pasta water (pro move) and then smothered in cheap Parmesan cheese that I am not ashamed to admit to. I rush home for this. And will rush home tomorrow night. And, if I’m not greedy, the night thereafter.
. I am fascinated by the folks in the writing class. I never want this to end. I leave with a plan on what to do next.
. Cold Spanish red + tater tots.
. There is a stray whisker in my bed.