caerula's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- frosted strawberry with sprinkles Nothing is more tragic There you are, my poetic endeavor for the day (week/month/year). I am not a poet, although in junior high I did labor under that delusion for a while after reading lots of L.M. Montgomery. Those were awful things, too -- terribly old-fashioned paeans to daffodils and spring and lost love. I was 12, what did I know about lost love? Hurt I knew, and anger and embarrassent and the feeling of walking down the hall at school knowing people are whispering about you. Lost love, not so much. But that was easier and safer than what was really going on in my life. Did NOT intend to go there this morning. I really did drop my Pop-Tart just now, although there were enough major chunks left to pick it up and eat some. (They vacuum our office every night, I'm sure the floors are clean.) More boring paperwork today, although they are supposed to have the database up by the afternoon, just in time for that Friday afternoon laziness that invariable strikes us all and causes us to only pretend to work for the last few hours of the day. Oh well. We should be back to productivity Monday morning, and that's soon enough I suppose. It's been a very quiet week with YB gone. I managed to pick a good week to get sick, I guess, because I was at least able to get the rest I needed without having to deal with YB in the afternoons. I do miss him, though it's odd how quickly BB and I fall back into our patterns from before he came to us. As soon as he gets home, though, we fall into those patterns too. I suppose that's not such a bad thing. It allows us to get on with our lives when he's at the Dementors', and not expend too much worry in things we can't do anything about, and yet enjoy the time he's with us without projecting too much into the next time he'll be away. We have no plans for the weekend, except that I want to get a start on packing. We have the boxes from Kitty and CF's recent move, so no worries there. It's just a matter of figuring out where to start. We have probably three weeks before we can actually start moving stuff to the house, so I'd like to actually pack in a somewhat organized fashion this time so that we know where things are after the move, and don't move a lot of shit we really don't want anyway. We'll see how my good intentions play out. I am thankful that I don't have to actually go anywhere, though, and that's the best thing about the weekend. Last weekend was fun but it was tiring being out and about all day. And now that the heat's broken I might actually be able to lounge outside comfortably, which would make both me and Sophie happy. Maybe I'll get started on one of the quilt projects percolating away up there. I have a couple of designs worked out for Dad's quilt, and I think I know which one I want to do. I just have to figure out the yardage and see if I have enough fabric or have to wait until I can afford to buy some more. If I don't have enough to start that I'm going to start one of the projects in the nifty Jan Mullen book I got last week. I love her style because she doesn't place the emphasis on perfection and exact quarter-inch seams as many quilters do; she makes her lines curvy and wavy and crooked on purpose and the result is absolutely charming. I want to do the Stargazey Daisiez in a smaller, more low-key version, as a table runner. I have some wonderfully vibrant fabric in my stash that would be perfect. (Some minutes later) I've been distracted by actually having to do work, since GB was loitering in our vicinity. I'm so frustrated by this stuff I'm ready to burst into tears. I know it's because I'm so tired and still feeling somewhat ill, but I hate it. Makes me feel completely out of control, and I detest that feeling. Definitely need to go home and work on piecing. 8:57 a.m. - 2001-07-27 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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