:)

Things that fill my life: good coffee, books to be read, and lots of list-making to keep my brain on target. Admittedly, “write a blog” was not part of the plan, but it seems like its been too long not to just say something short and sweet.

So frightening is the mercurial nature of the world these days. Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Two-minute thunder storms. What is earth coming to? Georgia has been tossing her inhabitants thoughtlessly from snow to sleet to sunshine to storms to all at once for weeks now. I am willing to accept her behavior if she will steadily begin to move in the Spring-ward direction. Summer starts to feel like a possibility as soon as flip-flops and lily-white toes begin to make an appearance where sneakers once reigned supreme. Rain and sun are both welcomed, but only if they bring 65 degrees of happiness with them.

This coming from a girl who loves cold November rain. Georgia is pushing me to my limits this year.

This is my second post about the weather. Hahaha.

The weather outside is sort of frightful, as of today. I think Georgia annually forgets to fill her normality prescription when it comes to the weather, among other things. We also have people who hang rebel flags from their truck beds and say things like, “The South will rise again.” In response, one has to wonder, if the South rises, will it not then be technically the North?

These are the things that the residents of our grand state have obviously not considered.

Also, I have a confession to make.

Sometimes, at public establishments with single-unit restrooms, when the women’s is occupied, I am terribly tempted to use the men’s instead. I mean, honestly. How picky can a person be about gender-assigned locations when it comes to these kinds of things? If I am on the brink of a mid-restaurant pants-wetting, exactly how concerned do you think I am with that little man-shaped stick figure on the door? I hope you see the logic in my words. The only potential downside is the faces you may encounter on the way out. That could be awkward.

Furthermore, I swallow my gum. Often. Usually this is for one of the following reasons:

A. I am riding in an enclosed vehicle with other people, I have no scrap paper on hand, and I am too sheepish to crack the window and toss the offending wad out onto the wayside. This sheepishness is heightened if I am sitting in the backseat, where any change in cabin pressure causes a thundering wind tunnel effect on the whole car. No good.

B. I am pre-occupied with what I am doing (as I am currently) and I have no convenient, on-hand way of trashing the gum. So I swallow it. (Like I just did.)

Anyway. That’s enough confessions for one day.

In other news, I am currently cooking and writing alternately, a pastime I used to employ often. It tends to make for frequent subject changes, between stirs and taste tests, or at least somewhat disjointed trains of thought. In addition to this, I just caught a towel on fire. I should probably try and stick to one task at a time.

What else is to be said?

It is so nice to  write meanderingly again. I have not created space for this kind of directionless musing in what feels like a very long time. My to do list for this month has grown exponentially as of today. Currently, it consists of “paint, crochet, knit, write a letter, write a story, ride a bike.” And maybe “clean the house a little bit.” However, I find that with this kind of space comes a greater depth of thought that fills my world quite sufficiently. Instead of cruising through days spent sleeping too late and thinking too little, I find myself wanting to wake up earlier and spending my time delving into the quandaries and conundrums of the human condition. Is this normal?

I think I am done for now. Except for one beautiful thing.

Listen to this. It is a French children’s song entitled, “A la Claire Fontaine,” the version is by Laure Shang, and it is wonderful. It reminds me of Miss Kendra Woods.

Sing, nightingale, sing,
Your heart is so happy.
Your heart feels like laughing,
Mine feels like weeping.

and the refrain to the poet’s beloved,

So long I’ve been loving you,
I will never forget you.