Falling through space

Sometimes WordPress is nebulous and way too controlling. But, undaunted, here I am, in the loft, happy to see the living room below me flooded with sunshine. Life is so bright I oughta wear shades! For which I’m very grateful; my daughter who lives in the Philadelphia/D.C. corridor expects a foot of snow, or sixteen inches, or nothing. Preparing for those options is futile as Mother Nature toys with the weather forecaster. The proposed storm targeting her geography has another two days to make up its mind. Time enough to stock up on the ton of groceries her three males can consume in nanoseconds. One of them might avoid the snow because he’s three states away. And hopefully holing up there. But he’s young, and no amount of snow is daunting to his mind.

I participate in a writers group once a month, more or less, and our group is expanding to include a wide variety of very good writers. Since I don’t venture very far from memoir, I’m fascinated by their sci fi, poetry, recitation, and narrative. Last time brought a playwright, a biographer, and new faces writing various subjects. Highlight was a luminous handful of incredible poetry by a young man who is so gifted it’s scary. He wrote a term I have fallen in love with, clutch to my bosom and would love to claim for myself.

We used to easily say ” he died”.  Which evolved to “he passed”. But this guy coined a new phrase that is so 21 Century that I hardly dare utter it. But it is notoriously his, specifically his, daringly his, and I impatiently await the day when it becomes such a part of the vernacular that I can use it myself. You, too, will have to wait.

Computer Guru has gone, and I must depart myself, to the mundane of Friday as I close the week. I fell yesterday and was fortunate to not break anything. I fell full on my face, slammed my hand and ripped out a small chunk, but it doesn’t inhibit my typing. I broke no teeth, my nose is intact, and except that I must have torqued everything, and ache everywhere, I’m fine. I slept very well but woke very early, headed for that cup of morning starter and got dressed, all before 8:30.

Not noon yet and already I can claim a productive day. Out to run errands, then back and chained to this equipment to finish the last 75 pages of memoir editing, then hit send. That should get me close to dinner time. The chunk out of my hand might mean I get to go out and eat someone else’s preparation for my nourishment. (That means tacos and a margarita. YUM!)

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