Dollface.

I enjoy the fact I celebrated 26 eating good food with those I love.  

I welcomed energy from a waterfall with hands over head, climbed rocks and fences, and trampled through forest.  talked to the sunset from an urban patio under lamplight.

26 is now wearing skirts and wispy hair and going to the beach.  I feel more beautiful now in the woods, in water, in sun.  I feel more beautiful with family and with people who feel far less like strangers.  I am sitting around the table with other women and building sandcastles and feeling quite content.  

I ate my first fried chicken foot yesterday.

yep, that familiar warm trip into fingertips and fibers.  such a familiar touch of restlessness.  it is in fact good weather and sunshine now and summer is in sight. 

I eat shrimp.  and home grown bean sprouts.  rice broth soup.

perhaps it is the librarian that I am, or some latent archiving desires, but I am struggling on how best to document this.  how can I document?  how can I make it last and eat it for dinner for years to come?  is the beauty in the moment, will all attempts to memorialize ruin the charm?  I think I need a camera.  I am terrible with a camera.  (as the cat blog will attest).  

I am shaky before breakfast.

I am not exactly sure how to best describe the absolutely perfect and untouched, unwrinkled and definitely unsmoked cigarette I found in a mug of pens.  tools of creation.  it’s like a fucking still life.

I think I am a victim of my period, or I am losing my mind.

Most likely, both items are true.

I need to grab the book of design and sustainability from the sheets to take in the car to browse in between looking out the window and day dreaming and listening to the radio, perhaps my ipod, before going to market.  

I am even trying to wear less black/add color to my outfits.  I attain this goal by wearing all black and dark brown and then shoving my arms through a bright sea green sweater (compliments of @akeptwoman) which breaks the black and adds color.  

I am not sure how pregnant ladies do it.  None of my clothes fit.  I feel fat.  I am wearing anything that will hide the fact my ass won’t fit in my jeans and I feel like I am bumping into door jambs and table corners with greater frequency.  it’s probably partially a manifestation of my head.

I need to go to breakfast.