it's all under the surface

journal entries & current projects

Saturday, April 30, 2005

Watching an old TV show on DVD. We slept in today, this week having been a tumult that exacted some energy that we coulda used this weekend. After rousing ourselves, the house was cleared of furniture we were storing for friends. After that, beef stir-fry, good stuff -- and then this series.

It's late again & tomorrow is May Day. Each year, the gang joins up for an actual may pole dance. They've been doing it since '90 or so. You can imagine the build up of ribbon after 15 years. I'll tell you something, there's a lot of ribbon after 15 years, that's all I can say.

We're thinking about making lamb stew tomorrow. The idea is to use the last of the fresh rosemary from earlier this week. The beef stir-fry had rosemary in it, but the ginger flavor took over through the cooking.

I've been dreaming, in the excessive sleep that has resulted from the exhaustion of this week. The dreams feel as unfamiliar as the weeks' distressing tension. Wish I could remember them, but I get only glimpses of sensation. There were people I don't remember, ideas I can't comprehend.

Jema is at my feet, I've pulled her bed over to where we're watching the TV show. She's all curled up & completely asleep. I put a heater under her bed, which sent her packing at first, but she seems happier, now that it's later & chilly.

It's rainy/sunny these days. Seattle is known for rain & this year has been uncharacteristically sunny. We look for rain, for snow on the mountains - to ensure our water (which we share with all states southward)will sustain for the summer. Backpacking is a goal for this year. Who knows whether or not I'll be able to enjoy it.

Preparing the soil. It's all about accepting the enrichment without bloom, without harvest. That's what this time feels like. As a side note, I just read the Smithsonian article on coal fires burning under the earth across the world, that the idea of purifying soil is better than figuring out how to fight fires of anthracite across the globe.

I guess I can wrap up there. Life is like butter, y'all. Viscous, but kinda tasty in moderation.

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