Phone Call to a Friend

A new edition of the Crow is at the printers. I started reading a new book. I found a new podcast, finished a handbag and cast on for a pair of socks, which was so much fun I did it three times. I bumped into a friend at the pizza place on Friday night. I went to a poetry reading on Wednesday. I’ve been opening up the tub of jelly beans on top of the fridge all week and just picking out the black ones because they’re the best ones anyway. This morning I cleaned both bathrooms.

And this is all surface stuff. Nothing earth-shattering, life-changing, or policy-shaping.

I don’t care much for the weather. I’m proud of the president and congress for getting some semblance of a health care bill through the gauntlet. I’m breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes. Or they’re breaking in me. My headphones and I have been on a Billy Joel kick this week.

And I still haven’t finished the damn invisibility shawl.

I’m digging my job. I’m craving catfish. I’ve been thinking about stenciling celtic knot patterns on my bathroom walls... but probably won’t. I wish I could put my hair in a french twist and get it to stay there. And I wish I spoke python better than I do, but who doesn’t?

I’ve been bribing my kid with stickers in the name of potty training. Shawn barbecued lamb for dinner. I watched Aliens last week, for the first time in maybe four years; I don’t know it verbatim anymore. I lost a stitch marker.

There’s lint in my pocket, Buffy in my DVD drive, and a waffle on my wall. And I really don’t have that much to say.

I just kind of wanted to talk to you.