To Hook a Duck

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Duck hooking and dump cakes.

Today was alright because it was rather screwy and oddball.  We celebrated my one year with Chipotle.  I got kind comments from a co-worker.  I didn’t fall on the floor in spastic seizures.  Manna fell from the heavens in the form of one high school boy who brings with him a retinue of other high school boys and girls who want to help us.  I saw an old friend who is going to take me out for drinks and seemed serious about this.   How odd to think I am in the position to have old friends.  She also brought a box of cupcakes with her.  My little sister is not at death’s door, but is able to postpone the colonoscopy for a month.  We are back to designing trees on Sunday and I don’t have to suddenly figure out how to make that happen.  I have a few episodes left of A Chef’s Life to watch.  I am current on Drunk History and the Voice.  I have listened to most of the new episodes of Answer Me This.  I have Bernie Sanders clips at the Democratic Forum to parse through.   I feel as though I belong to myself rather than anyone else and I feel fantastic about this. I can get five minutes of cleaning done and get another load of laundry rolling. Water has tasted really cool and refreshing of late.  Perhaps there is enough bread and butter for one last grilled cheese sandwich.  My friends are in the first nascent stage of planning a group trip to Seattle for June-ish, maybe.  Possibly to see one of those friends get married.  Possibly.  Otherwise, to eat and walk through the mists and wool gather.  Or drink and make dirty jokes and piss ourselves laughing.

This is really lovely.

Tomorrow is N7 Day and even though I have to go into work for a few hours, I am not letting anything but placidity rule the evening.

I have a faint idea of what to buy my mother for Christmas – or one small part of it.  I am singing the praises of Amazon Prime.  I think I know what I want to do here starting January 1st.  I think this entails starting a daily diet blog elsewhere and doing regular/irregular posting here to vent and sigh and rant and rave.  I think this also means I want to plan to lose weight next year.  I think I want to give up my birthday this year.  I want to give up the expectation of my birthday, its shape, its worries and inherent woes and be, full bore working on myself.  This means no concessions to cake and baked goods, no fancy dinner out that will threaten the system.  I always have a great first two weeks and then, I start planning January twenty-third and how it will exist outside of space and time and by the time I get to that date, I’m ravenous, I’m ready to genuflect before all of my big addictions.  It is a cycle that is so consistent that I have to stand in front of this particular truck to make anything change.

I think this is what I want.

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