Thursday

This cartoon made me sad. When Malcolm was little, he loved running up to me when it was coffee time so he could smell my coffee breath. He didn't drink coffee or show any preference to it one way or another, but he sure loved smelling it on my breath. I called him my little Java Cat when he'd do that.

My hip is still bothering me. I'm trying to keep it moving, thinking it might help, but it seems to hurt worse. But, if I don't move it, I'm afraid it will get worse. *sigh*

I picked Petunia up yesterday (early release) and we went to Great Clips and had our hair done. I had 4 or 5 inches cut off; the lady spritzed my hair, cut it, and then BOING, the curls popped right back. So funny! The lady who took care of Petunia's hair was awesome. Petunia and I chose two similar hair-dos from a book and showed them to her. She shampooed the hair first and then gave her an excellent cut. It was so nice to have a hair stylist listen and then work with you. She could tell how Petunia's hair was going to react, and handled it. (It looks like a modern, longer Carol Brady hair-do. Very cute.) Petunia is happy and so am I.

The Letter
Amy Lowell (February 9, 1874 – May 12, 1925)

Little cramped words scrawling all over
the paper
Like draggled fly's legs,
What can you tell of the flaring moon
Through the oak leaves?
Or of my uncertain window and the
bare floor

Spattered with moonlight?
Your silly quirks and twists have nothing
in them
Of blossoming hawthorns,
And this paper is dull, crisp, smooth,
virgin of loveliness
Beneath my hand.

I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart
against
The want of you;
Of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
And I scald alone, here, under the fire
Of the great moon.