weeds in my garden of delights

Lyli and Scarleht feed each other soup on the front porch. "Padipa, peez wawa" (politley, please water) which they pass back and forth. Today in the car Scarleht employed the use of please and politely when asking for more food. They have noticeably started helping each other more, showing more and more concern for each other's well-being. Four hours in the car each of the past three days, whew! Not my lifestyle of choice but necessary.

Up to Port Townsend several times to Loompanics Unlimited's warehouse to pick up books. Mike Hoy, the editor, sold me the doubles from his personal collection for a quarter apiece and gifted me the dregs of their overstock! Food for the next decade for my daughters and I! Now I have somewhere between three and five thousand pounds of Loompanics books in my barn and have to figure out what to do with them. Damn my neck is sore. Where's my live-in housekeeper/cook/chauffer/masseuse? There's a 21 foot sailboat in my frickin' driveway! I had a beer on it yesterday, just because I could.

Attended my friends' wedding reception this past Sunday, Paul and Moe locked in a 21st century union to beat the band. Crazy families, tables of booze, kayaks, horseshoes, little kids dashing around, depraved jokes and awesome conversations. Bunch of hippies I hadn't seen in months/years/lifetimes. Spend the sunset on the water, kayaks, kisses, evening dresses, much love from old friends. A truly unique evening I will be long in forgetting.

Paul allows us to abscond with a bottle of scotch and the half keg of Fishtale Oktoberfest (now flat and in my bathtub). Spoils of love?

Old friend comes to stay last weekend, stroking my ego, plucking my heart-strings. Bacon in bed, breakfast with blackberry shake, bars, too much social collusion for my tastes but to hell with boundaries, my heart feels fine, despite the bacon grease. A little love and lust wrapped up in my nights, abandoned but for the sake of silence. Loose lips, sinking ships, stupid mistakes. A time of extremes, one allowing the other to thrive. Hearts are lonely, asleep or burning, nothing more. Sometimes life moves too fast to scribble little portraits of the moments that touch us deeply, by the time we find the presence of mind to document the details have dribbled down the drain of our emotions, obscured by more recent nothings blacking out the somethings of our selves.

I live, and make no apologies for living. I talk about living and my words twist reality into a scar on someone else's skin. Better to live sometimes, and keep one's mouth shut, or open but screaming silence instead of sound. I lie back and heal a bit, choose not to wallow in regrets or dance upon poppies but instead catalogue the simple weeds abounding in my garden of delights. For weeds are often really flowers in disguise.