While playing Scrabulous: I really like the word "nosegay." I could get started on a sarcastic riff on this word but I'll save it.
"scudhorse" is not a word though something inside me swore it would be. Neither are "fogeasy" nor "goysafe." At some point I want to play a game of Scrabble with someone in which we play sniglets (made-up words) with some story or poignancy behind them that all players can see.
In the meantime, my self-respect cannot abide repeatedly playing words whose definition I do not know. I now stop to look them up. Have you seen an illustration of a zouave? It's as beautiful and unusual as the word that signifies it. A word like that, I think, should be a dessert, not a foppish French soldier of yore.
While baking cookies for two CCC events this weekend: There is such a thing as too much vanilla in a cookie. It gets cloying. This, after forty years of spilling over and running out.
In between cookies: Death and metaphorphosis happen. Just sometimes some parts of me don't catch up. Just like Cainan hasn't always understood that the burnt toast can't be resurrected by putting it back in the toaster and turning it on "light."
Tears come and wash me closer to a shore I can stand on. In the meantime, the place between ocean and land, between here and there shifts with each wave. Beautiful things wash up and glisten, get cold as the sun sets. A live creature of memory rushes to hide before I grasp it like it's real. Niki, Cainan's teacher brought in a dead shark for the kids to look at but it stunk so bad the grownups screamed for her to get rid of it.
Last night I did a Motherpeace tarot reading for the first time in...months, certainly; years, maybe. It was so "spot-on," it gave me faith again in my Intuition, and connection to the Divine.
The Outcome card was Death. Reversed. Reversed, the death card points to what doesn't want to die, a departing protracted, that keeps living in some part of us.
I got a good look at the shark, stench notwithstanding. Niki said even as she wrapped its stiff, putrid body in newspaper to bring it home, she could swear it moved.
Things take so much longer to die in our minds.
