Slow and Hot

I sit on the edge of my bed. Water pours down my face and neck as I pump the bottle repeatedly, drenching my hair, my cream tank top and the quilt on my bed.

Gods it’s hot.

The wind comes from the south, which is in my daughter’s room. Mine, with its north facing apertures, shows a still country side. Nothing comes from the north. It is as if life gets sucked that way.

I know I’ve been looking that way all my life.

I couldn’t sleep. This is the second day of hot night weather we’ve had this summer. Much better than last year but still very agonizing.

I watch Firefly again. I can’t wait to see the movie. I want my questions answered, dammit.

Still on day two. Don’t ask. But I joined writer’s meet up. DAWSP meetings have been slow. I also joined the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. Should be fun.

Nothing from M…. Sigh. I’d like to think he’s so busy with work that he just does have time to call but I just can’t bring myself to really believe it. Sucks.

My daughter had beautiful long blond hair down to her buttocks.


Everyone has been urging me to cut it, but my daughter has asked that I do not. So I don’t. But yesterday some mean little boy at school took scissors to it.


At first the damage did not look bad. However after we washed her hair that night we found that a knot had covered a large hole. I had to cut it.

She cried the whole time. I gave her a bob that fluffs up and curls to just at her shoulders. I gaver her split curtain bangs too. She looks beautiful. Thank god I could cut at an angle. Straight lines would have been impossible.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.Einstein (1879-1955)






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