April 6th, 2006

little brown bird

snow dance

I was still awake when Jim's alarm went off this morning, so I stayed up to be with him until he left for work.

When it comes to mornings, I am a sleeper - if I have to be somewhere, I can do that, but I sleep till the last second, get up and dressed, and drink a protein shake in the car. Jim is a putterer - he pokes one of the computers, reads manga in the bath, rounds up things that need to be done that day.

Today he popped a disc he made for someone into the dvd player and turned it on to make sure it worked before packing it. We have a logitech universal remote, so my brain took in only that he was pointing it toward the tv early in the morning, and supplied me with *checking the weather channel for snow."

Snow, right. It's already hotter here than I like, enough that I am anticipating a too hot summer and herbs in pots that can be stacked on the porch in the shade when necessary. So, I told him this, and he laughed, and I crept off to bed.

He returned during his errand run at lunch time, bringing me a coolada, and told me it had been snowing thick and fast throughout the morning, but it was all gone by the noon...

(no subject)

from faramir_boromir and mrkinch

Rec me one story you've written that you're proud of, any genre, here on my LJ.

Or link us to a graphic, or whatever your art sings as. And I'd love to hear why this is your rec.

And don't feel you need to be confined to Arda for me, but do let me know what the fandom is, because I lead a sheltered life...
moon /@robin

national poetry month

by Julia Older

She goes back to the clam shell midden
and it is not far enough.
She goes back to the first word, the last ice age
and it is not far enough.
She goes back to the caveman playing his bone flute
and it is not far enough.
She walks into the night.
It is too far.