I'm feeling just slightly something today. Hungry and craving affection in an odd way, which is probably bad for a girl looking at a weekend of exiles.

But the show has to go on.

-I can breathe a little more today than I could yesterday
-though disruptive to running, camping, and other outdoor pursuits, the lingering snow sure is pretty
-writing good little things
-got a lot of chores done
-while it got me overexcited, my makeup looks pretty good
-pretending to know how to use filters like a teenager is pretty good

"Else what the hell good had it all been--the way she felt about music and the plans she had made in the inside room? It had to be some good if anything made sense. And it was too and it was too and it was too and it was too. It was some good."
-Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

accident report in the tall, tall weeds

-being sick really highlights how good I feel most of the time instead of how miserable like now
-at least my body is doing all its worst stunts at once
-I could be General Custer
-it might snow tomorrow
-pretty good at cooking soup

*

I think I'd make a pretty good 19th century frontier woman, too. My man would be one of those doomed and exquisitely handsome cavalry types with an English name, earnest and grave, and I'd be all "But darling, why cannot I go to the Dakota Territory with you?" and he'd be like "Confoundit, woman, that's Indian country!" and I'd settle for a Missouri steamboat town with streets of pure six-inch deep mud. We'd only ever have sex standing up, and all our children would die in infancy, but we'd write such scalding letters until his untimely, brutal, but very heroic death charging into the face of some Lakota screamer.

I, of course, would be very heartbroken but still run an efficient household and beat the rugs out on the line and look so grim. I'd die of a winter chill soon thereafter, but by God, just have the loveliest cheekbones.

 *

I had a dream last night about a boy I liked in high school, my prom date. I bet that sounds hot or suggestive after my Libby Custer fanfiction but it wasn't like that at all. Even back then it was that we liked the same things and got along well, not that we had any physical chemistry. Just kid fun. In the dream he was older and even with somebody else. I know exactly why I dreamed it, too. Right before bed, Josh was telling me how he thought our landlord had strangely-shaped eyes for a white guy, and I said no, I had known a guy with eyes like that before. He, the boy, did have nice eyes, little brown foxy things, but that was about the sum of it.

Even though the dream was uncomplicated--just catching up with an old friend--it was oddly troubling too, I guess because of how different I was back when I liked him, remembering that time. The dream was also set in this place I've dreamt of before, this old orchard/farm I've never actually been to in real life. It has a feeling of dread and inevitability about it, like I'll go there someday. But I don't know, that probably sounds crazy.

*

Ugh, I might be really sick though. I keep thinking I shouldn't be getting worse. Maybe time to curl up in bed and try for no more fever dreams, or hope for snow.

-my grandfather is doing a lot better than he was
-my pipes aren't broken like I thought they were
-I'm reading a great book
-my bills are paid for the month
-my house is (pretty) clean
-my face is (pretty) good
-I seem to be sneezing a little less
-I'm learning how to use my smartphone
-It's Clio's birthday, and we've made plans to go have a wild night out sometime
-I'm fixing a cup of tea
-my mead, though dubious-looking, is at least still bubbling

You've done it again Virginia

I don't know, I have a lot of things that I need to catch up on. I'm behind on lent, behind on exercise, sick, and okay. I feel a little bit unlike myself.

when I was a teenager, I climbed that sycamore and read star wars novels in it

something positive

We’ll say unbelievable things
to each other in the early morning—
 
our blue coming up from our roots,
our water rising in our extraordinary limbs.
 
All night I dreamt of bonfires and burn piles
and ghosts of men, and spirits
behind those birds of flame.
 
I cannot tell anymore when a door opens or closes,
I can only hear the frame saying, Walk through.
 

from Ada Limon Sharks in the Rivers

Today, I wish I could run until I didn't know myself, but my ankle/foot blew out, the way a thing will do when you need it the most. I've long prided myself on my ability to adjust to the reality of a situation.

Today's kinetic meditation will instead be in the form of limping through the neighborhood collecting my bins that the 50 mph winds blew away last night, despite the firewood I loaded them down with. An old poetry teacher once told me that love was chasing the trashcans down the street as they blew away. I think that's pretty corny. But talk about love and passion, I got a hot text from an out-of-state number I didn't recognize yesterday (Valentines Day !!??).  It read: "I had a dream about you last night---a sign from the universe that you are my true Valentine. I miss you so much.... Til we next meet in my dreams...." I thought this was very charming, this wrong number confession of love, and I wondered about the person it had been intended for--was she beautiful, were they star-crossed lovers?

Then I looked up the number in my old phone. Turns out, I know the person quite well. So well, in fact, that I have once worn matching gowns made of bath bubbles with her when I was little. Clio!

Anyway. My inner energy is wandering the labyrinth halls of Tir na Nog and smoking off the balconies.

Dark fields

3 o'clock pm 42 degrees wind from the southwest 3 mph

my life just past my fingertips

Vanaheim

hey jupiter

Yellow moon in Leo looking like a fat tick on the neck of a dog, almost big enough to pop right off. It seemed like a summer moon, even if my breath was steaming from the cold as I ran along beside it. Winter moons usually seem smaller somehow, but brighter and sharper. This one made me miss warm, muggy nights.

Jupiter was right up alongside it, making for a pretty sky at dusk. There was a housefire down the road, but woodsmoke blowing up from the hollow, and all the air smelled like different shades of burning.

I just can't seem to focus tonight. I don't know why. The full moon makes it hard to sleep.

I'm a whipped girl today, trying to catch up after a night of sleeplessness and bad dreams on top of a big run. For all that, I've been pretty productive. Cleaned up the kitchen, organized my room, cleaned the bathrooms, and tended to a few other little chores.

*

During my run, I re-listened to my book on tape of The Hedge Knight. I know the last time I went though that series, I talked about it too much, and now is no exception. Man, it's just so good. It's like ASOIAF except about real knights only, and imagine that scene where the Mountain pulps the Red Viper, except in this case, the Mountain is a super lawful good guy, and there's a little kid screaming at him to hit the guy harder. It's really good to run to, because it's very exciting. On a second read-through, I recognize how often Dunk technically loses a fight (drops his lance, sword, his horse Thunder falls over on him, etc) but survives/wins by just shieldbashing until victory.

*

When I get my leather for my vest, I need to remember also to buy some soft leather patches for my wool plaid camping shirt. Though the shoulder being busted out looks very cool, I should really patch it.

*

I feel pretty Viking-y today, I guess because of the snow sky. So I did my hair up in some elaborate braids. No real makeup yet, since my eyes are still recovering, but they're clear and creepy at least:

*room featured mid-aforementioned-organizational effort