Tonight is the sort of night where I feel a bit rambly, a little unconscious. I'm sitting at my kitchen table in pokemon shorts and a soft, old t-shirt emblazoned with the name of the town of Bad Axe, Michigan. I am sucking a little on the right hand ring finger where the rough grip of a dumbbell wore a little raw patch as I gripped it too tightly. I'm eating a gross salad of kale, tofu, and chic peas--which is to say my body is craving something or other. (Protein?) I should be blow-drying my hair and preparing for sleep, but I'm enjoying all this instead.

The Bad Axe shirt belong to my father, who spent some mismanaged teenaged years in that town with his brothers and sister. I've had the shirt as long as I can remember, long ago enough that I remember being afraid to wear it as anything other than a sleep shirt, because "Bad Axe" sounded so uncouth and rude to my eleven year old ears. I knew it wasn't a swear word, but it surely had to be in the next category over because it just sounded so bad.

Quinlan men have always been tall, with large shoulders, but very narrow-waisted, even at the peak of their athletic careers. My father was a college football star, but never wore larger than a 32 or 33. Still, 27 years later, my mom will still go on about his musculature, even the size of his elbows. Anyway, all this to say is that it makes a very odd-fitting shirt for a tall, gangly girl like me. But it's soft and comfortable.

I do feel gangly tonight--sprawling, like my legs are too long to keep under my body so I have to prop them up on the chair or the table leg. They look all banged up--a weekend of moving around. The moon is.... somewhere... the moon is slipping out of Leo and heading into Virgo, the sign of my dumb little heart. I suppose that's the current status for tonight, the last night of June.