Drizzle

Not my favorite weather, but I suppose I have to expect this sort of day in Spring if I want my flowers and garden to grow. Shouldn't it be a bit warmer, though? I mean, I'm still wearing a sweater to work because I get cold in there. Cold. In May. What is wrong with me? Oh, it can't be me, must be some deficiency in the building or the climate or maybe the ozone layer, whateverthatis. I don't think it affects indoor weather, does it? Even my tootsies are a bit chilled today. Gah.

On a better note, I got up early this morning so I could spend a few quality minutes with my new Wii Fit. It makes me feel noble and virtuous. I still suck at the ski jump, but I'm kicking butt on the table tilt thing. I like the danciness of the step exercises and keep tipping over when I try the yoga poses but Horst (that's what I named my trainer) thinks I'm getting better all the time and he wants me to spend more time with him. Do you think he likes me?

May 13--Odilon Redon, Profile of a Girl with Flowers. There she sits again, showing herself off accidentally on purpose. She sits there nearly every night posed behind the shade trying to pretend she doesn't know anyone's out here looking in. Look, you can see the self-satisfied smirk on her lips. She knows. She holds herself still to sear her image onto my retina, so that I can't sleep, so that when I close my eyes all I see is her. I can't get near her in the day because they've taken to locking the school doors. And if I do get in there, if I do get in there where I can feel her, smell her, where I can find her and finally touch her, a visitor needs a badge and a good reason to be there. They don't believe my reason so they send for some burly gorilla to escort me out. I appease myself with crouching here outside her window imagining how soft her skin is, how fragrant her hair will be when she is close to me. I am content. For now.

That's what I'm talking about. Writing. Ahhh.
--Barbara