Author’s note: This is from a series based on my journal. Unconventional and idiosyncratic punctuation and formatting are intentional.
This morning soon after coming downstairs I posted the next piece in my journal series and even though I rewrote most of it yesterday I think it could be better. I just don’t know how to get it there right now. I could always not post pieces that don’t satisfy me but skipping some sits less well with me. I wrote a story for Meg’s prompt to write about a character who considers a snail. I found inspiration in a remark about a character in Lost Lambs. I started the novel last night. I like the book so far except that the author includes a silent G in front of some words that begin with N. Gnation and naturally and dognated but not gnot or gnow or gnumb. I have yet to discover the reason for this and right now it is a distraction and I feel as if the author is winking at me and poking me in the ribs and asking, Get it? Get it? It’s hard to enjoy something when I feel as if I am not catching on or being mocked.
On TODAY a consumer reporter reviewed a cleaning product called Mommy Eraser x 10 and Carson Daly winced when she said its name. I know, it’s creepy, she said. A new social media wellness challenge invites users to stop using the technology for 30 minutes and just be bored. REHAB was the answer for Wordle today. On their show Dana and Lawrence talked with a writer about parenting young children. It was hard to relate. That time of my life feels like prehistory now and I am also sure in some ways that I was just as bewildered with my world as cavemen with theirs. On the local news I saw where a jaguar at the zoo just celebrated her 20th birthday. Jaguars usually live just 12 to 15 years. Beliza is also a cancer survivor. To celebrate entering her third decade she received a pinata and a goat milk popsicle. Early one morning when William was home for winter break this past Christmas he inadvertently poured my goat milk kefir onto a bowl of Frosted Flakes. In the morning I came down to find the cereal in the trash, soggy and topped with a note in William’s writing saying Goat Milk Incident. For the last day of winter the forecaster predicted 73 degrees and sunny and breezy. For the first day of spring he predicts 80 and clear skies. Every year I promise not to complain about the heat and humidity. Every year I am tested and fail. This year I will still try again.
At the shelter this afternoon I signed men and handed out supplies at the front desk and Antwan and Ella and Tim were working along with T. J.’s son T. He is back from getting his graduate degree in audio engineering and working part-time at the shelter until he figures out his next steps. He thought he wanted to produce records but after doing the sound cues for a production of Macbeth for the blind he is now considering audio design instead. T. said he enjoys the creativity of the work. You can go kick a Dumpster and flip that into a sound for Godzilla, he said, I love it! T. has slender dreads that brush against his smooth round cheeks when he smiles and he does almost nothing but smile. Mr. Murrow came in soon after I arrived and talked to the TV by Ella’s office and circled the room eating ice cream from a small red paper cup decorated with balloons and ribbons. Two crossbody pouches flapped against his left hip as he walked and he wore a blue sweater and necklaces of colored wooden beads and black leggings ending just below his knees. A white scarf tied in a single underhand knot snuggled up against his neck. He asked for underwear. Medium, he said. Black okay? Black is okay, he said. Noodles? I gave him a cup from a case on the floor. The band of a pair of headphones wrapped the back of his head, the ear pads resting just above his ears, like the crown and laurels of a Roman emperor.
On my way home at the grocery I said hello to Mike in the dairy aisle where he was unloading some pints of milk from a box he balanced with his knee on the edge of the cooler case and he is so tall he had to duck to see the top shelf. He said the store might be open for another three months instead of just another three weeks. Good news, he said. I said that I had seen on the news last night that a committee delayed approving the new owner’s plans because of concerns about appearance and uses. That’s right, he said. I checked out with Thomas and he lamented how his memory and hearing keep getting worse as he gets older. But it beats the alternative, he said. He entered the code for the purple cabbage I was buying and rolled it toward me in the bagging area. I always try to look on the bright side, he said. I asked Lori about her interview at Kroger. Fine, she groused. Then she complained about how the store’s changing closing dates are complicating her availability to Kroger. I didn’t tell her I am glad the store will be open longer. I didn’t want to invite any more sourpussing. On my way home I heard a scientist on the radio talk about the noises snow packs make as they melt and shift. They whoop and sigh, she said, sometimes they sizzle and squeak. She suggested skiers learn to recognize the noises to avoid being caught in avalanches and the forecaster reminded parents to remind children to bring home hats and coats they may have worn in the morning. Since it is so much warmer now they don’t need them and not needing them it’s easy to forget them. I could see myself doing that and I bet at some point I did.
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I am with William regarding goat milk. Not something to have by mistake. I like the "crown and laurels of a Roman emperor" imagery.