After returning from NC and intimidating workshops, I’m at home again, realizing that my kitchen is one of the most wonderful places one could be.  The houses on Grainger are so close together that we really only get sunlight coming in the eastward kitchen window from 10:30 till 12:00 or so.  It being 11:00, I’m sitting here writing wordless songs about the way the light is touching all the glass bottles on the sill, the pillowcase curtain, the leaves of the lily plant, and the apples in the basket.  If you can add a string quartet on the radio, a black & white kitten running around and climbing walls, and a rug with a charmingly irregular rose on it without swooning, please do.  I love my house.

Now then.  So.  I’ve called these Knoxville Voice people, these Eva Mag people, and these City View people, and left annoying messages with all of them.  Now all I have to do is call UT to see if that administrative asst position is still open, and maybe run down there and apply for it.  Also (for some reason, I’m exactly and completely motivated to do everything on my list, today), I’m going to do some REAL work on journals today (which requires a trip to Hobby Lobby and Leatherwerks), and some grocery-getting (the cupboards are bare), and maybe go look for a table for my room.  It needs some personality, up there. 

And I also can’t wait till I’ve got tons of things done and I can lay on the couch with tea and Granados (or Purcell?) and read Middlemarch.  This is a book I would have scorned, SCORNED–except that Katie J is reading it in her English Novel class and is sending me excerpts that are … well, great.  I actually went out and bought it on a whim in Cary and promptly read 70 pages instead of watching Mona Lisa Smile, which is what I was planning to do when I had a free evening.  Um, it’s great.  Not at all the dreadful dry stuff I thought.  It just struck me …: the similarity between Dorothea and the main character in Return of the Native…whatsername?  Man, people just can’t write novels about good women.  They’re just too boring.  Sigh. 

I’m so ready.  Ready to make some sort of yeast-bread, tonight.  Ready to be turned down and try again.  I think.  Ready for healing, ready for beauty.

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