Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Was remembering this photo shoot

Someone mentioned Bev's Cafe in Red Wing to me today, and I thought of this photo shoot Buddha did. I remember the smell of the bacon. The fact that Barbara O'Brien got Buddha to sit still with good bacon on the plate in front of him - no rubber food here - still amazes me. (And a cup of good coffee, too! He loves coffee.) I'd like to have these two pics framed and hanging on a wall in my house for posterity.

Thursday, November 10, 2016

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

I went to the woods

All I could think of was to get out among trees. Some things are still good. Some good things prevail, even when the KKK is celebrating.

Monday, October 3, 2016

I think I'm allergic to peanut butter. I think it's one of the things that causes my nose to become congested.

Saturday, September 24, 2016

Walked dog around little Wedgewood park. Did an errand. Was feeling tired, but okay, when I started to feel shaky again. It's exhausting, this trying to pretend to be functional, and, even, cheerful.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Mouth breathing. All of the time. I don't understand why because it's cool and rainy outside, cool inside. I shouldn't be mouth breathing. But I am.

I tweeted something tonight I thought was funny. I was responding to a hashtag meme. No one has liked it, much less retweeted. I guess it wasn't funny.

I worry constantly about going bald. My mother didn't go bald. I know of no woman in my family who went bald. On the contrary, we have great hair. I have great hair. That's how it's supposed to be. But there's all this hair on my hairbrush. And so much hair on the bathroom floor. I thought it was Buddha's, and some of it is. But a lot isn't Buddha's. 

I tried to tell Karen about my fears of going bald. She's very dismissive of anything I say.  Everyone's hair thins in old age, she says. I'm 51 - does it start now, I ask? Well, get a wig, she says instead of answering. So you're saying I need a wig? I ask. She's very dismissive. 

If I go bald, I have nothing left that is attractive about me. I will have nothing of what I used to be. 

Karen's never been afraid of anything. I have to be careful of what I say, or I will be shouted at. It's all in my head, evidently. Feelings aren't real. Worries aren't real. I  should just tell myself my feelings are nothing but a chemical imbalance. Other people have it much worse. I should think of people who have family members who are mean to them: I'm lucky not to have any family because they could be like that. Think of other people who are worse off and you'll feel better. 

It doesn't work. I just can't think like her. I guess I'm an inferior model of person. The himan race needs more Karens and fewer of me.

I brought home my work laptop and all these folders. I was hoping to have time to work on the novel outline - the novel itself is languishing. 2 months now since I've written a chapter. But I've had such a hard time concentrating at work lately that I'm way behind on this project they've stuck me with. It's really a job for an analyst, not a writer/editor. I don't understand it and I don't know how to do it, but I don't dare ask for help. Not there. Not me. I just try to keep my head down. 

I'm thinking of experimenting with some of the meds I've been keeping in a box in the closet as the years go by. I have some Dubonnet. lf I took a Vicodin and a glasss of Dubonnet maybe I could sleep through the night? I just wish I could get a few nights of sleep. Maybe I could think more clearly about things.

I've been trying to play solitaire at the dining room table and listen to some music. But I just can't relax, although Imm very tired.