Free Sky by Pink Sherbert Photography
Mrs. G. is lying in bed, slowly coming to after short nap she hoped would stir up a dormant anecdote or simple story during REM sleep to offer up to you. No such luck, though on occasion this sometimes works, particularly if prior to sleep she says to herself at least 75 times, anecdote or simple story reveal yourself, anecdote or simple story reveal yourself, anecdote or.... No joke, she sometimes does this. She blames the Harry Potter books. Now she expects magic.
So she's left with nothing more to share than a few negligible thoughts from her day, which was a good one.
~Mrs. G's dog Chewie is needy. Not dead broke, down and out needy but rather that bashful, rabbity first boyfriend who never wants to leave your side needy. If Mrs. G. moves, Chewie moves. If she walks around the house and comes to a sudden stop, he runs into the back of her calves. He ghosts her. She could understand this neeeeeeeeed if she wasn't home most days writing with him at her feet or on her lap. Right now, she is in her study/guest/escape from Mr. G's snoring room. The door is shut and she can hear Chewie outside the door, his toenails tip tip tapping as he paces back and forth across the wood floors. Every once in a while, he stops and sighs and begins the tip tip tapping pacing routine all over again. Tomorrow she's going to have to sit down and gently break it to him that she needs some space, that perhaps they need some time apart and he needs to see other people...like Mr. G. or Mrs. G's son.
~The Salome and Replete pink daffodil bulbs Mrs. G. planted last fall are in bloom. They are sweet and simple, more peachy than blush.
~Mrs. G. leaves in thirteen days for Boston. She and her mom are heading east to see Miss G. in her new environs. For obvious reasons, anxiety and excitement abound. Mainly excitement. This is Mrs. G's year of travel.
~A friend told Mrs. G. this weekend she was a flibbertygibbet. She had never heard this word before and she likes it. You're flighty and all over the place, said her friend. Are you saying I lack substance? asked Mrs. G. Her friend replied, No. It's just your substance is fluid and quirky and goes every which a way.
~It was sunny and 64 degrees in Seattle today, tree buds are busting and the air smelled like cranked lawn mowers. It was nothing but blue skies and bare feet.
~This afternoon, Mrs. G. received three hang-up calls over the course of an hour. After the second hang-up she wondered if Johnny Depp was trapped in an Olsen twin's house and signaling his love for help. By the third hang-up she was sure of it. She could have hit the redial to confirm her suspicions but she didn't. She just emptied the dishwasher and went about the rest of her day, lighter.
It's 12:48 and Mrs. G. is going to try and go back to sleep. Night derfs.