Mrs. Creosote
Wanted to get some words down today. Planned on it. But my gut had other ideas, and I spent the morning vomiting instead.
Must have been the news about Justice O'Connor.
Gunter the overheated greenhouse tortoise and his buddy Ranger have been retrieved (see earlier post). Just a short stay this time.
Summer is scorching the tall grass. It arrived suddenly yesterday and now the 90-ish temps and steady wind have me wishing I'd gotten a yard crew in before now.
My spasming belly was empty enough by 3 p.m. to allow me a long overdue trip to the dump--transfer station--and then to get the mail. Wonderful present in a little white box waiting for me at the mercantile--a small aged entire tortoise shell encased in bubble wrap, with other goodies, talismans and small fossils my Tulsa brother saw fit to include. A hermeneutical CARE package. Elements of night dreams to come.
Now I may construct my own altar somewhere; I have accumulated enough images and power objects for an interesting foundation. I have no telephone nook, and the ironhearted piano holds a sacred display already--photos of my children and grandchildren. It will come to me, where to arrange these numenous articles to greatest effect and meaning.
The sun has set, the wind is low and cool. I've kept down a dozen little Saltines and a weak cup of tea. Time to step out into the air and listen for a while.
You wouldn't think guacamole and watermelon would combine so poorly. (Paints a vivid picture, though...)
8:48:48 PM 
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