Visitor at the Gate

To touch your glove, to see your red wine dress
is twenty years of leaves swept past the door,
or moment the dropped glass impacts the floor.

Burnt Toast

to the point of blackness
scrape off char but flavor stays
from moment you looked away

Check out JB’s blog here.

We saw the sleep doctor today and Steve has to go back and have another sleep study, this time with machines. The rise of the machines!

He’s the one with the sleep problems, yet I am the exhausted one. Yes, yes. Life isn’t fair. Shaddup.

They call it “moody” here, but on the test site it was “emotionally unstable.” Yep, that’s me in a nutshell.

The link to the quiz was from Scoplaw. Who knows where he got it in his internet spelunkings.

Lisa’s three contest entries are available on her blog. Check them out!

Because I’ve been on hold for twenty minutes and I’m getting ready to snap! Snap, I tell ya!

Columbia Gas of Ohio, you’re going to answer this damned phone! Aiiieee!

They don’t wanna. Probably because they’ve sent me a bill for $600 and I don’t owe that much, dammit! Aieeeee!

I am strong. I can do this.

This is why I am not a doctor. His doctor’s suspicions were correct and he has sleep apnea.

My suspicions could be correct, but don’t really matter because he has sleep apnea.

I’m glad they found something. I’m sad it was something serious. I’m glad it’s treatable. I’m sad that he’s going to look like Darth Vader.

Even better news from the kitty front. Ugly (I didn’t name her!) has an infection. While that normally wouldn’t be good news, it’s good when you were expecting kidney failure or diabetes. They are going to keep Her Royal Furriness for a couple of days, which means a couple of days without her demanding I turn on the faucet and draping herself across my throat.

I’ll miss her.

Steve is currently more wired than a crackwhore in a monkeyhouse.

No, that didn’t make sense, but shush.

He’s having a sleep study done. His doctor suspects sleep apnea. I suspect PLMD because when he’s asleep he looks like he’s conducting the Boston Pops.

On top of that, our oldest cat Ugly is at kitty hospital being poked and prodded. The vet suspects kidney failure.

In any case, it’s a sad day at Chalet Little Pill. I’d say that in French, but I don’t know French. Not that such ignorance has ever stopped me before.

Reqiescat in Pace

I will take my leave like my dear papa took his
when gently into that last good night he slid—
not raving and wailing like his passengers did.

A few years ago, I tried to learn crochet. It was a dismal failure and would be best forgotten, but Julies don’t do what’s best. Julies do what’s appealing.

So, I tried to get out the ole yarn and hook again and crochet that scarf!

Dismal failure doesn’t even begin to describe this effort.

I need a new crafty, something I can do mindlessly while watching TV and that gives me a result I like. I used to embroider, but I got tired of figuring out what to do with the embroidered crap I made.

ATCs are still in my future, but they require thinking and designing in a way that my crafties of choice don’t.

So, I’m looking at needlepoint. My sister used to needlepoint and suggested it. And then I went and looked online for kits to get started. And then I found this site. And then I fell in love. And then I looked at the prices. And then I wept.

But someday? I’m doing 1415-96. I am.