"Sitting there crosslegged on my bedDidn't I say something like that to you once, sitting on your bed in whatever state of dress or undress? You had maybe gone downstairs for something.
Don't you stay away long that's what you said..."
I check the KZE playlist - Blue Rodeo's Arizona Dust, I'm pretty sure. I see that they played a song titled Donde Estas Yolanda overnight (Pink Martini), and yesterday something from Ollabelle.
I slept late this morning, it's nine now. Overcast, maybe that's why. At the moment I feel as though I was in a car wreck but know that I will feel better as I get moving.
Dreamt last night of a bowl filled with ruby pomegranate seeds, and the night before of a baby girl who comes to me in tears. I take her into my arms. What's the matter baby, do you have a tummy ache? She nods yes but has to think about it, so I know that's not it. She blurts out, "I'm bored."
I need to go clothes shopping. My brown denims wore through yesterday, and one of my two pairs of jeans the week before. Most of my old clothes no longer fit. You know, the last couple of years I have been at times either euphoric or in despair - not a good mix, but one steady good thing that has transpired - besides writing nearly every day - is that I have become disciplined about getting in daily exercise and maintaining a healthy diet. As a result I have lost quite a bit of weight, have a nice shape (full-figured - but still - a figure) (slim chance - still a chance, sings Todd Snider), and my skin tone is good. When I walked into the salon yesterday my hairdresser exclaimed that I look terrific (though it was hard to see that for myself in their bad fluorescent lighting).
During the week I weeded the raised beds and yesterday D topdressed them with homemade compost. Amazing the transformation of ordinary kitchen scraps, placed daily into a bin and left to cook for many months. Rich compost spread with a rake, the square beds were like chocolate cakes jauntily dotted with the eggshells that didn't break down.
On our way home yesterday we stopped by our favorite local nursery, and I complemented Randy on his appealing radio voice and ability to wax poetically about trillium. We chatted local color and purchased fertilizer and vegetable packs from him. Last night D planted them up - a lettuce mix of lovely ruby, dark & light greens; parsley, broccoli, brussel sprouts, red onions, and arugula from seed. Today we will go around the garden and by turns scratch the earth, sprinkle organics, and water, to fertilize the young trees, shrubbery, and perennial beds.
Outside, on a clapboard wall of the old house were hung (with Randy's usual - that is, uncommon - artistry) a pair of charming antique mirrors which enticingly gathered and pooled the afternoon light and dappled shade. On my way in to settle the bill I caught a glimpse of myself within an iron-scrolled frame, reflected portrait against opalescent sky.
I like what I see. My hair, freshly trimmed, falls in a feminine way around my face, and the light brown shade suits my complexion. My formfitting top is bohemian, hip, and flattering; pilates has paid off. I smile in the mirror. A woman who appears kind and fun smiles back.
"Ruby, let down your golden hairSo to further my swanlike (at 50) transformation, I'd like a brand spankin' new outfit, as Rick ("your host of the up and running morning show") might put it. I don't know what's in fashion, and what would look best on me, but I'd like to try on a few things. Wearing a pretty skirt again would be nice.
When I'm standing at the bottom of your stairs..."