it looked like snow today. the sky had that wrist-slitting quality that I'd nearly forgotten about. it was AWESOME. it was cold and humid but not rainy- the sort of air that you can smell and taste and feel. it was fucking beautiful. the leaves are changing and I was wearing my stupid brown gloves that I wear every winter, and a wool sweater, and everyone I saw looked similarly cozy. LOVING the layers. people seem happy. the dirge-season is still in its novel infancy.
tombs is doing rather poorly. right now she's trying to purr around her tumor. I clean her face, all orifi, several times a day now. it reminds me of helix. anyone remember helix? he had renal failure and he dwindled away to nearly nothing, but he was still HIM. and I didn't want him to get to the point where he wasn't still HIM, so I eventually euthanized him when he was still able to purr in my lap.
and I think of that now. how fucking far do I go? why the hell is she still eating and surly? she looks like the toxic avenger! fucking torties. the little buggers live forever.
I finally went into the fabric/craft store on pike. I had no idea they sold yarn. what a magical place! AWESOME fabric, really cool yarn- just a fucking cool store where everyone's friendly and mellow and helpful. the lady behind the counter was even nice to the customer with the horrible child. that is the mark of a fine establishment.
today was pretty delightful.
-somewhere on 11thish.
-the Feed Bag.
-U District.
-Pernod and candlelight, Presse.
-Capitol Hill.
"miss this gumbo and you'll roux the day."
-recipe headline on a clipping in my late grandmother's cookbook, Seattle P-I, 7/20/88
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