Current google search: the history of heat.
All sorts of ideas are being bandied about. After tonight, we know that there’s a violin and a kaleidoscope and possibly a thermocouple ammeter or something to do with a piezoelectric disk. We’ll just have to see how daringly scientific we aim to be. The thieves stand at the ready to assist. And then, on other fronts, armies and ravines and Ace of Base songs I dare not think of as they’ll become instant earworms.
The horizon features a potential breath of air sort of solution on the money front. We’ll see. Don’t quite trust it yet, but it is necessary. Even if it doesn’t happen tomorrow, it should happen Tuesday and I think I have things put together to make it that far. Further quasi-flirting that also got me some health insurance. That’s a whole…
Out of the office library, I absconded with a book about the Literary Cat. Mostly because it had artwork from Chagall, we discovered, and a poem from William Carlos Williams, and something from Ambrose Bierce.
Nevermind about any of that. I ate poorly/but at correct calorie levels again for dinner, but did run around and do extra exercise to compensate for that. Kind of starting just crave a big salad. Build the kitty back up and that actually sounds…amazing. Tonight, though, I spent some time both on the bike and dancing around/walking. We’ll see what the scale decides is just in the morning for this week’s efforts, both intense and lackadaisical. This is the gift of 2016. If it ain’t lower, we just keep going. There’s no appointment set, just a path to tread. And these hot feet to figure out and how they got burnt. Because I’m not sure it relates to the pathless journey.
Tomorrow. Galentine’s Day. I have the hors d’oeurves’ ingredients thanks to a little short term loan on behalf of ma soeur and will get to see my old friends. I may have mentioned this. Delighted that I know precisely where it is and how to get there. Not quite sure what to do about this very fluffy, very Mary Pickford hair I’ve got going right now. Might just hang with it in her honor. Then, coffee with the mentor and the download of all the hot goss. I will be getting full up on my estrogen-centric life support. My social bar should be bursting.
My personal roses are getting painted red. Feeling a bit relaxed. It’s Friday of a three-day weekend. I have to work on the novel, the story, the game, the Tribe re-watch, the X-Files, the, the…you start to think about February 14th and your odd, acid-dipped feet and the way the earth is moving so quickly around the sun and there’s so much to do and buy and be and hope for.
It’s getting a little hecticklish up in this head of mine. I’m wanting old flames that have long since burnt away. I have old emails close at hand that I could rile myself up with.
Instead, I am just letting myself be.