It’s a Saturday morning. Usually I water all my plants on Saturday mornings. Today is cold and the sun took ’til 8 to break the horizon–a few clouds and cold from the north are keeping this a slow start. I’m in my living room/kitchen and the sun cuts horizontally through the room to the far wall. I so enjoy the sunshow. So harsh, so brief, warming.

I am focused on rebuilding the temple. Would almost have been more of a delight if I did not know about the fall of Babylon. Indifference=inaction=neutrality=lukewarm.

I went out to meet the bus at the time on the schedule. I was still 8 minutes early when the bus blew past. I am back home, waiting for the next one. One hour later. Reduced service today. Cold outside, but the stars were bright and I have had a way to walk.

Here I want to talk about some lessons I learned: no Coke before bed, especially if it is a “bonus,” second one of the evening. Bad idea to have that 2nd Coke.

These things ought to be part of the wedding vows, I, ____, take you, ____, to be my lawfully wedded (husband/wife), to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, CPAP mask and all, until death do us part.

I don’t have one, but a coworker started his CPAP use 3 weeks ago and looks so much better and invigorated. He looks as if he has been getting fresh blood circulating, like the vampires that get their fix and the hagged women who take baths in milk and virgin’s blood. Yuk on those mythological treatments, but the CPAP appears to be theĀ  fountain of life, the elixir of youth.

Inspired by this, I have begun breathing deeper, and pulling in oxygen consciously. Joan was on oxygen and told me that once a person starts on oxygen, they cannot go back without it. I will breathe prescriptively to get that intake.

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It’s the new world order, marching, marching in.
I hear the hoof-beats, the footsteps ever closer
And prepare as best I can.
“Pray you are worthy to escape these things.”
To the wilderness, the wilderness I go,
But to my job tomorrow.

Orphaned, abandoned, alone,
I pack my bag, look around my room.

Nothing to take that won’t weigh me down,
Not even returning for a jacket–flee,
Flee

. . . and for sure, don’t look back.

Life is not a bowl of cherries, but a stash of taffy.

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when the evening turns that certain shade of blue, watery green blue, then it is time to watch the fireflies dance
fifteen minutes — no more — bobbing the bushes, weaving the trees, skimming the grass
fifteen minutes — start to finish — the dance is done

weeks and weeks of evenings I have peeked through the blinds to see their flashing tails fly

a good summer
fulfillment
rest
peace

Getting into Ted Hughes, but seems so wrong in the height of Oklahoma summer to read English countryside winter storm poems.

Ate about a bajillion diverse things today and have a tummyache like a child after the carnival.

Trying to develop trust in the new external hard drive and go ahead and delete 4 years of photos from my netbook.

Have been piggy all week, daily getting food and drink sloshed on my clothes, floor, face and feet.

We have got a lot of rain.

I was accepted into a special 24-person limit exercise program at work. Group exercise is at 6 AM. Yay?

When I was in the drill team in college, we had early morning practice. I called it the Crack of Dawn School of the Performing Arts.

Last week during the day the temperature was in the 60s on and off and already I am feeling the fall in the air.

Sometimes I go to bed when the sun is up. I sleep well.

I haven’t had a migraine in so long, I can’t remember when the last one was. Being free from that has changed my life.

Because I am divorced, I will be single all my life unless my divorced husband comes back. And even then, he was divorced when I met him.

This is such a small town, three times I have gone out to dinner after work and my closest co-worker has gone to the same place with her husband and we have seen each other.

I have a friend named Fischer and just by saying his name, everyone knows who I am talking about.

Last week while we were eating ice cream in the conference room for an impromptu break, one of my male coworkers told us how poor he had been when first married his wife. He’d steal toilet paper from a certain gas station because they kept their restroom unlocked. He’d hit them Sunday mornings for a couple of rolls. He and his wife ate Bisquick pancakes for every meal for weeks at a time. To supplement that, he’d go fishing for bass and crappie in several ponds around here. He’d also sometimes go out with a pellet gun to shoot squirrel. He had an old hunting dog who would fetch the shot squirrels and bring them to the bed of the pick up truck and drop them in a pile. Yesterday when I walked Boomer Lake and saw people fishing, I wondered for how many that was really their dinner or nothing.