Red Ruffled "Flashy Pants"

"for dogs in season."


And 4 pink fluffy booties. (Too small, I'll try again.)


Beautiful Day

Beautiful stories.

There's a book store next door to the petstore.

Endless entries into worlds unknown to me. So much to learn! Absorb! Experience.

I could have stayed forever. Sitting. Thinking. Reading. Exploring all that exists between those varied pages.

Instead I bought The Cutie Anne Rice's vampire triology, JR Tolken's Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, an origami guide for making high tech paper planes out of dollar dollar bills and a grande espresso frappachio and called it a day. I knew he'd be wondering what could possibly take so long to buy doggie sanitary pads. I'm so enthused by all that I saw. It inspired my imagination and interest. And there's so much I could bring home for the Cutie to keep him busy and happier while stuck at home! Books, projects, puzzles, role playing books..... So much!

When I got home, he was on line of course (COV) and listening to his new Fionna Apple CD. Mellow. Groovy. Melodic. I think I like her. It's good to have music in the house (studio.) I miss music. Does that sound silly? Simplistic? But I do. It's important to me. And I need it. I wish we were making music. We've discussed a few times but it hasn't been the right time yet. Not enough space for instruments. Financial contraints. But I miss it and will be happy when music is more of a part of our lives. Playing the piano opened me - it moved my feelings through and beyond me - it released energies and awakened my spirit. Listening to this reminds me of that and makes me yearn.

Like this radio station that I found once The Cutie started letting me use his his car to drive to work. It reminds me of the causes I once believed in and thought I would dedicate me life to. They're still there. Waiting for me. And I can learn more and get involved at any time. Just as soon as I get a handle on myself.

I bought a blank journal today. I want to start my food journal again because I've been slipping. Slipping. Slipping. I won't get angry at myself. I will accept it as a part of my journey but I do want to get on track and take care of myself in the way that I know I can. Increasing my consiousness will be the first step and I will do that by writing down all that I eat what I am thinking feeling and doing at the time as well as my hunger levels before and after as indicated by a number between one and 10. 1 Being absolutely famished, 5 being neutral and 10 being full beyond comfort. Recording all of this takes effort and persistance and also a good deal of courage (its much easier and comfortable to go unconcious), but it is valuable for recovery. That reminds me I need to call about that Eating Disorder agency I found on-line. Just as soon as I have a moment alone. And feel brave. And energetic.

I battle with myself about getting old. Being old. Feeling old. I tell myself I don't care. But that's a lie. I do. When did I get these wrinkles. I look in our cloudy medicine cabinent at a face I do not know. Puffy discolored weariness. Leathering and worn. Was I beautiful? Could I be again? Where will it come from? Maybe from within. I look at women I know. Middleaged woman 20 years my senior that I respect and love. Do I see them as damaged beings? Ugly or disfigured? Not at all. Never! So why then do I hold such stringent and punitive self-reflection? So we may be "extra" voluputous or "imperfect" physical beings. Does that makes us unworthy? Dispensable? Underserving of love, affection? Obiously rhetorical as the answer's simplicity is glaringly clear. I wish more of us believed this. I wish I did. Not just in my head, but throughout my being. I'm so tired of hearing the women at work repent upon consuming a cookie and their unrelenting daily diet jabber. For god's sake. We have other things to think about! To be.

It makes me mad! And sad.