I'm feeling a bit off these days - a little uncomfortable with things, work and otherwise. I can only hope that it is the itchiness that ends up causing positive change - or the itchiness that just kind of drifts off by itself. Either is OK I guess.
I've watched a dear pal go through a painful loss this month - and find myself feeling a big ball of sorrow for her - perhaps a slightly bigger ball because it brings losses of my own up front again as well, just when I was feeling like they were well and truly beaten into submission. More fool me! I should know by know that the arrogance of that sort of feeling will inevitably end up biting me in the arse by now. I will learn, I will learn.
In the meantime, I am MAKING MY OWN YOGHURT! (there was no good segue into this, sorry). I eat so much of the damn stuff that I figured making my own just made sense - economically, nutritionally (as it will be all dairy and bacteria, nada else - nom nom bacteria!), and because it gives me a suzie homemaker feeling of accomplishment. I won't tell you how stupid easy it is to make, that would take the mystique away.
And, I've been thinking about this piece by Winston the cat's ex-dad. I'm conflicted about it - I love his writing and his honesty, and his ability to nail down some feelings that aren't always that easy - but I can't help but think of how painful this sort of thing must be for his ex to read. And that are things here that maybe it wasn't fair to share. Ultimately, does that matter? Who knows, but it obviously isn't sitting 100% comfortably with me. And it raises a whole bunch of questions for me about putting this weird electronic life record out for the world to see. I don't know. I really don't.
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