Dear Friends,
Karen the veterinarian says have a routine. She says it's good for Zing, but we both know she means it's good for me. And it is emerging. A routine is the bones you hang your day on.
Since we’re just creating a schedule, it’s hard to fit in time to test out the tranquilizer for Zing. That is not in the schedule. Today he couldn’t take it before going to Grateful Dog, because then Zing would be Zombie Dog and unable to play. So I gave him one pill when we got home late this afternoon, and it slowed him down some. Tomorrow I’ll give him the same amount, and then leave for 15 minutes.
While Zing was gone I went to the Color Theory class at the Crocker Art Museum; we mixed paint again and all of us had the hardest time making green. Also violet. The teacher told me my feathers lack unity, that I should go home and work on it. She said it nicer than that.
When I got back home I was going to put my class papers on the table, then hurry out again to pick up Zing before the evening rush hour. But my doorway had disappeared behind a blockade of boxes: Three sinks. Also a garbage disposal. I edged past the cardboard welcome, opened the door, and one by one dragged those boxes inside. At least they wouldn’t bother the neighbors (I am very nervous about the neighbors.)
Then I was possessed by one of those whirlwinds of energy, so I grabbed the red box cutter and stabbed through the tape, yanked open the boxes, threw mounds of gray foam packing into the hall, yanked the (!!!***#$#$!) sinks out, inspected them for color and cracks, put them back into their boxes, piled the boxes on the other side of the bed where they can hide awhile, threw the foam back into the larger carrying boxes (so much bigger than the sinks!), and one-by-one dragged them down to the first floor trash room, where I stabbed the boxes into something flat and threw it all into the bin labeled cardboard only. I was on a creation fling and felt like I could probably install the sinks right then. Clark would be proud.
Then I was possessed by one of those whirlwinds of energy, so I grabbed the red box cutter and stabbed through the tape, yanked open the boxes, threw mounds of gray foam packing into the hall, yanked the (!!!***#$#$!) sinks out, inspected them for color and cracks, put them back into their boxes, piled the boxes on the other side of the bed where they can hide awhile, threw the foam back into the larger carrying boxes (so much bigger than the sinks!), and one-by-one dragged them down to the first floor trash room, where I stabbed the boxes into something flat and threw it all into the bin labeled cardboard only. I was on a creation fling and felt like I could probably install the sinks right then. Clark would be proud.
After this, my friend Caroline called and we talked like there were no miles between us.
Love,
k
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| Trying on a shawl from Gretchen |
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