Not-sunny days do not make me happy or peppy. In fact, on not-sunny days I am sorely tempted to loll around in my jammies eating salty and sweet things and watching cooking or house-fixing-up shows on the teevee. Today I didn't do that but I really wanted to.
I met ACJ at The Attic for a couple hours of writing. I managed to crank out about 3 more pages of hole-filling story which is a good amount for an afternoon's work. I'm glad I decided to cancel my agent pitch appointments because there is no way I'd be ready by April. This way I can take my time, write what I'm happy with, and pitch it to an agent or two at next year's conference. And I can go next month and spend the weekend learning about writing and meeting other writers. What's not to like? Also I took along some of the things that I found in a box this week for ACJ's art projects and she loved it all. Thanks for taking it off my hands, A! Happy Birthday too!
It was still warm enough for the snow to melt and run down the street (also it rained a bit) but as soon as the sun went down that water developed a skin of ice. Last night I was very careful when I took out the trash and recycling bins since I had to walk across that ice. Paid close attention to where I put my feet since I do not want a repeat of the April 1, 2016 ankle-breaking incident. No-siree-bob.
When I got home I mixed up and baked the snack I'm taking to the knitting guild meeting tomorrow night. (not only am I taking a snack but I'm also a door tender and I'm teaching a lesson; at least I'm getting it all over at once) It's a bag of oyster crackers, most of a bag of pretzel sticks, a packet of Hidden Valley Ranch original, 1 teaspoon each of dill weed, season salt, and garlic powder, all mixed into 2/3 cup of canola oil, then poured over the snacks, stirred, and baked at 250 degrees for 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes. (thanks for the recipe, Aunt B!) I gave myself permission to have a small bowl of it because, come on, who's going to be able to resist that? I'm eating one piece at a time to make it last. I will say that it's very salty but then I cut way back on salt a few years ago and don't really miss it but, man, are prepared things, like that salad dressing mix, salty.20 March--Tropical Obsession.
They’ve been hard on my
mind for the last few days, like an imp dancing in front of me jeering and
taunting. So alluring, so tempting even though I know they taste bad and burn
my throat. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine one held between my index and
middle fingers, smoke curling sensuously upward to dissipate in the breeze.
They smell bad and taste worse and yet I can’t resist. I make an excuse, plead
for a few minutes of solitude and race into town with one postcard to be mailed.
My real aim is the ice cream shop in Harbourside Mall where they sell harsh
Nevada menthols and lighters. I buy them furtively even though no one cares and
hurry back to the truck to light one with an eager and shaky hand. Awful, but I
can’t put it out. I drive home taking little prissy drags, not inhaling,
keeping the acrid and thick smoke in my mouth like vomit, hoping the smell
isn’t clinging to my clothing or skin. I fling the still-burning butt out the
window when it burns to the filter and reflexively sniff my fingers. I gulp
water trying to wash out the taste and grab mints as soon as I come in the
door. He confesses he was tempted but broke up his remaining ten and left the
crumpled pack to show me, so I would be proud. I am too ashamed to take the
pack from my pocket. It sits there like a ball of thorns digging into my flesh.
I've been dreaming about Durwood a lot lately and this morning I was dreaming that he and I were on some island, moving around from place to place, and we knew he was dying. I woke with a start when he called out to me in my dream. I hate when that happens, mostly because I hear his voice that one time and then he doesn't talk anymore once I'm awake. It doesn't really ruin my day but I'm going to stop sleeping on his side of the bed for a while. See, I swap sides of the bed every month to keep the mattress from getting squashed on only one side but I think I'll sleep on my own side tonight. Maybe I'll go back over there when the days are sunnier. Funny what your mind comes up with, isn't it? Tomorrow I have a trainer session so I'll sleep the sleep of the innocent and exhausted tomorrow night. That's a good thing.
--Barbara
2 comments:
Dreams can be so real and so disturbing. I hate it that you had one like that. Why can't all dreams be "dreamy" -- in the sweetest sense of the word? Switching sides of the bed sounds like a good idea -- or even switching beds. But dreams, like thoughts, come unbidden.
Barbara, After Harry died I crawled over the bed at night looking for him. Then because of the silly reason that the alarm clock was on his side of the bed and I would have needed an extension cord to move it, I switched sides of the bed. Amazingly my night crawls stopped. But, even though it has been more than 30 years, once in a while I conjure him up in a dream.
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