Sunday, December 16, 2012


I've got "A Moveable Feast" from the library, but it's a 2 week rental and even though it's not very long, I don't think I'm going to finish it in time.

The hill out our front window is so picturesque all covered in snow.  I always forget that, in between winters.

I'm going to Portland tomorrow for work.  The trip was dropped in my lap three days ago, which is nice because I'll be there and back before I have a chance to remember how much I dislike leaving home.  And my hotel's a few blocks from both a vegan restaurant and Powell's, which is nice.  (Maybe I'll find an old copy of A Moveable Feast?)

It is a gray day here.  I am spending a quiet Sunday with the bunnies, aiming for reflection and peaceful thoughts while trying to ignore the creeping despair that always comes after terrible times.  Like the shooting.  It is a nightmare to even hear about from thousands of miles away.  To be there, mired in it all...  I cannot wrap my head around the scope of the grief of those who are close to it.  I am sure it is without limit.


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