Author’s note: This is from a series based on my journal. Unconventional and idiosyncratic punctuation and formatting are intentional.
Among the day’s notifications was an email from Alisa at Star 82 accepting the story I wrote in response to Meg’s prompt to write a postcard story where the writer has something important to tell the recipient. It’s just a passage I shaped from my journal where my observations suggest issues of understanding and forgiveness between the writer and recipient. I noticed a typo when I looked over the story again and let Alisa know. I hope she won’t now reject it. I also let Meg know about Alisa accepting the story. Incredible! she said. Aura was the title of the first story of mine Alisa accepted. Aura was one of the categories in Connections today. Answers included Air, Manner, Impression, and Quality. Deborah announced the publication of her memoir Escape Velocity today. Now she is on to the hard work of selling it. Yesterday I started reading a book distribution and sales guide Atmosphere sent me for Visiting. It is nearly 60 pages, double-sided. I am glad for the large font.
By accident I opened today’s regular crossword instead of the Mini. It was just a wall of squares. I still missed the Mini’s first clue Lacking locks. I was thinking locks as in things that secure things. Bald was the answer, as in having no hair. At the shelter yesterday I learned that a man who used to go there just died of an overdose. He had beautiful, long wavy hair. He was 40. This morning I looked for his obituary. Instead I found a mugshot. I looked through the mugshots of other offenders. For some I tried to guess the offense based on the person’s facial expression or features. Several of those arrested for D. U. I.s looked happiest, eyes wide and smiling broadly. I just wondered if they had any idea what they’d done. At fitness class this morning only Andie and I attended. For some exercises we were supposed to do 15 repetitions. For most of those I decided that 12 was enough for me. Neither Andie nor I is especially talkative. Without Mike or Jamie class was even quieter than the other day when Mike was there or maybe it’s that conversation was more measured and focused. On the news the forecaster said that with clear skies and sunshine the next few days temperatures might try to overachieve. That would be fine with me. On TODAY a chef making macaroni and cheese topped with buttered breadcrumbs said calories don’t count when they’re good. Applicable was the pangram for Spelling Bee today.
At the grocery this afternoon I checked out with Terry. He thought the label on the bottle of olive oil I was buying said Evil Oil. Wouldn’t surprise me, I said. You’re telling me, he said. I wished Lori the cashier good luck on her Kroger interview next week. Thanks, she heaved. She seemed as hassled and peevish as ever. On my way to the library next door I saw a man named Vega from the shelter walking with another man. Vega told me a month ago when I saw him at the shelter he had some job interviews. Yesterday he told me he’d just moved into an apartment. He was just coming by the shelter to see if he had any mail. He’s put on some weight over the last few months. He’s probably about right where he should be. At the library I picked up Lydia Davis’ collection Samuel Johnson Is Indignant. Even though her collection Can’t and Won’t often tried my patience I thought I could try, with this collection, to be more patient. The librarian who helped me had a small black gauge in each ear lobe and wore a t-shirt of a U. F. O. beaming down Take Me To Your Reader.
Last night I dreamed of having dinner at Rodman’s house with him and his sister Sue and their mother. Sue worked at a club tennis shop. She was missing one front tooth. She felt her job was in jeopardy because the shop’s manager had just gone into rehab. She talked from a convertible parked in the driveway in front of the house. I sat on the steps leading to the porch poking at the dirt around some stone pavers. Grass beyond the pavers grew in bright green clumps. How do they get their grass to grow? I wondered. My yard is nearly bare! Is it all the sun? The water? What?! Their mother baked pocket peach cobblers for dessert. Before we sat down we gathered in the kitchen. I said that I remembered being there before it was renovated when it was so dark and cramped. No one believed me. It was no longer dark but it was still a small, crowded, awkward space. Their brother Porter picked me up for dinner. When we arrived I stayed in the car to tell him that it needed a repair but he didn’t stay to listen. Between dinner and dessert I played with a neighborhood child in a patch of weeds by the back door. The dining room had a deep, matted shag rug the color of swampy moss. This was all before I woke up about an hour before my alarm. In that short interval I dreamed of being at a wedding that was starting to go sideways. I woke feeling as agitated and disoriented as I was glad to be up and out of it. DIZZY was the answer for Wordle today.
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Persons in your dream were in my life long ago. Made me feel melancholy.
I love all your references to the various NYT puzzles. I feel like that could be an essay in itself...how the answers overlap with your daily experiences!