Celebration on a stick

While some seasons are determined by a groundhog, the sun and when it sets, or something as arbitrary as a school year, today marks the first day of summer pour moi. The smell of my deodorant (calendula with hops) just made me thirsty. No pants. No stockinged feet. Plans to go places just for the getting there. Our neighbours, in bonnets and caps, are naked again. The house is nearly full, but always empty. Ah, but maybe not yet. Maybe not quite yet. My feet are still dry.

Expect/accept magic

If things turn out like this, that's okay. If they turn out better, even better.

(Only my mom reads this, but just in case someone else does (not that my mom isn't the most perfect audience, though I can't write about all the really hard and terribly addictive drugs that I do...) then I should write a reminder about our house show here tomorrow at 8 or so)

Lingering showers

Tonight I will lie in bed with the cat, open the window, and finish The Winter of our Discontent.