I tell the creme egg story to a lovely audience

http://youtu.be/Av8x12kQZTc

The cruel work of stillness

I read in bed for many extra hours, totally paralyzed by the cuteness of purring cats. If I moved they moved too, sometimes settling back before I'd even stopped shifting. Jasper looked at me when my elbow was resting on his head, like, "OK look lady I'm trynna sleep stop messin' it up!" He has an amazing ability to guess what I might do next, get there ahead of me, stretch himself in my path and give me dirty looks like I'm following him just to get on his nerves. When he's not being a jerk he's totally charming, which is why I find it extra hard to get out of bed when I have no clients or meeting scheduled and it's cold outside and my cat thinks I'm an awesome place to nap. In that moment I AM something, and some breathing creature is appreciating the shit out of me for just being still, which is nice.

However, I do have my customary giant list of things I'd like to get done. Three pillows and most of the fabric I need are sitting on the sewing table. Do I need zippers? Is the envelope style copping out on quality? (Oh perfection, you merciless bastard, nothing has been measured or cut and already I'm worried about it.) It's just that I want to use this lovely piece of fabric that has crewel work on it, my friend used to have it hanging over her kitchen window. She is wonderful at loving something and then letting it go. She knew how much I loved looking at it, so she gave it to me. That was over a decade ago. So, even though she has probably forgotten about, I imagine that when it finally does become a pillow, she will recognize it and express joy at the continued existence of it (which sounds perfectly delightful). And I am trying to decide, if in that moment, I would also like to say, “Look, it even has a zipper!” In typing that out I have solved my problem. That's too much worry for such a strange reward, I'm going envelope with it. That takes care of the pre-construction of one whole pillow.

Whew. That's solved. Wonder how long it will take me to make that pillow.

Electric prunes instead of arthritis

I have this super adorable Aunt, a wee little Polish bubble of a thing, who got drunk on Manischewitz and told all about electric prunes. 


They are prunes in a mason jar, steeped in Kentucky moonshine until their drunk powers ripen. The topmost prunes are plucked out with the arthritic fingers of an old woman, who suddenly finds herself imbibed with gigglesome joy and kicky little dance moves, followed by great regularity. The ones at the bottom are gleefully tackled with a fork, just whenever. So good a body just can't believe it. 

Dazed and Chinese

As much as I love Bongwater (and I really love Bongwater), I have lost the ability to sit through Dazed and Chinese. 

I am still glad that it exists, I kinda love all the horrid complications, even as saying that I sound (to my own self) like a pretentious asshole. There is a masochism to listening to this song, it manages to hit my irritation button in a way other things can't, even though I know how long it is, that it will come to an end, what annoying thing comes next and even that I could turn it off at any moment. I hover as long as I can before I forward right through it. Today I chickened out early. It's so bad it's glorious. It's a sissy test. 

Judge Fruity

peeled from tangerine 
to lounge around, watching me
do it, how dare you