Merry Chrismas!

This year has been a gift, more so than anything else. I am so thankful :}



How Do You Eat a Persimmon?

I am wondering.

Also, Christy-Anne, I miss you --



The blurry furry with green eye(s) is one half of the cat population at my parent's house. She is very good as keeping one company when one is sick and in bed. Tonight, I had the dizzies and a strange bout of nausea (hello, Seattle, round two? Odd). Arthur did his best, which meant the foot of the bed, reluctantly. While I appreciate his efforts and know for a non-snuggling cat there was a great deal of love and concern involved, I miss me a little Daisy-bug side lap purring and whirring.


Yesterday was the first time in my entire life that I have eaten fresh cranberries. They remind me of the candy called War Heads. I am now popping them like the fifth grade version of myself popped lemon War Heads.


I forgot that I lived in Florida for a minute

I didn't miss central air conditioning as much as I miss central heat. We have three space heaters to nine hundred square feet, and this ratio is not working as well as I had hoped it would for my blue toes and poor circulation. I feel every particle of air getting in, through the cracks in the windows, the small gaps in the floor, the pinprick holes in the wall. I feel the 1954-ness of here.

I went into Chamblin's Bookmine the other day, my first time, despite living in Jacksonville for three years. Besides getting a bunch of books for R. and my brother for the yuletide holiday time, I found a book of Rainer Maria Rilke's poetry, the original German and translated English versions. I am thinking of, as perhaps a New Years resolution, attempting to speak it again, inspired in part by the beauty of Rilke's words that don't transfer well into English but also by the surprising amount of German customers that I speak with at the grocery store I work at in Mandarin. Here is my favorite poem of Rilke's thus far:

Du meine heilige Einsamkeit,
du bist so reich und rein und weit
wie ein erwachender Garten.
Meine heilige Einsamkeit du -
halte die goldenen Türen zu,
vor denen die wünsche warten.


I'm Here

Just nothing blog worthy or creative happening lately ;}