Sometimes

you go through a whole day thinking it is Tuesday and actually it is Wednesday or Sunday. I did that yesterday so I get to have January 10th again because I thought it was January 10th yesterday. It might be a new strategy to redo a really bad day, just have it again. Correct the mistakes, don't drive too fast through a school zone, wear your seat belt and eat a lot of vegetables.

Tonight I had my writing group and we are hilarious. We shriek with laughter. It is so loud I think we rile up Rebecca's cats. We eat cheese and bread and grapes and we drink tea from real teapots and you would think we could be polite but we just refuse. And everyone brought a brilliant poem. And Rebecca sat with her feet on a chair because she has some serious problems with bones and burns and the like. We might have to fashion some accident proof footwear for her so she can no longer damage herself. But fashionable of course. And then we ragged on Laura for wearing homeless person Laplander clothes so we went out the door shrieking. I hope Rebecca's neighbor doesn't leave an evil note.

I am still contemplating the satsuma. It is getting rather hard. When I was meditating the other morning, there were 3 chickens crossing the road by my house. Like the joke. I'm not making this up. I would not make up stories about semi-wild life. Cars were stopping so they could cross and then the people were just staring because there were chickens (surrounded by pigeons, I might add) pecking around in the yard in Columbia City. The rooster was really pretty but man, are they dumb.

Ok, when I was trying to peel off my running tights, I kinda stepped on my right index finger and there was this crunch sound and now my finger is sore and swollen at the knuckle. It's too embarrassing the way I did it so I'm going to make up a story about how I rescued a bunch of people from a ledge 8 stories up and sprained my finger. Then the mayor will give me the keys to the city and I will be in the paper and famous and my finger will sport a big bandaid and the guy at the coop will carry my groceries to my car and I will be rich but generous and my poetry will all be published and I will buy all my friends some great shoes. The End.