My Little Golden Book of Phobias

My big cat, Wishbone, is trying to bury his food. He does it every day. There is a little rug under his bowl and the water bowl and he manages to flip the edges over the bowl so it is partly covered....we all have our coping mechanisms. His version of scarcity involves hiding food. As if the other cats can't find it, doo-doo head. The other cats watch him with their heads cocked, as if they are fooled. Then he walks off, pleased with himself. 

It's snowing here so I raced home after dinner to be in my house where it is warm and there is hot tea and the cats can sit on me. I send a message to all those who are sleeping outside---may you all find someone to sleep with and be warm with. Between here and the beggars in India, we are that close. 

I am falling into a pattern of staying up really late, watching bad tv, knitting and eating cookies. I am  eating sugar again. ( It said vegan on the box!) Being vegan is tough. No protein. Lots o' veggies and protein powder, well, it beats powdered placenta (see previous post). You can eat placenta because it wasn't 'killed' but, well, yuck. 

As usual, Rebecca expects us to bring a poem to workshop. Christ, I write so much and some of it is presentable. But then there is all the dreck. It's horrid, liking my own work and having fits about it---schizo, I tell you. 

I love the Seattle weather people. They have basically nothing to report so when a 'weather front' comes through, they get so pathetically excited. They once predicted a 'major wind storm' with lots of rain. I went outside on my lunch hour and one drop of rain fell on my head. One drop. No wind. No roofs flying off to Boeing field. No tsunamis. No tragedy and mayhem. That's what they want. Houses floating by with babies and cows hanging out the windows. That's excitement. This is just the wrong town for big weather. Now North Dakota, that's some weather. Where I'm from, upstate NY, terrible weather, bad, nasty, dangerous. Seattle, puleeze.