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It was very bright today. Bright and cold. I don’t have any use for cold in November unless there is snow on the ground. That said, if I had had the presence of mind to get the family ice skates, this would’ve been the best week for it. The slough has been frozen solid all week, and we haven’t had much more than a dusting of snow yet.

I’m still recovering from the yuck. It is taking longer than I would like. That said, we had to get up and do adultish type stuff this morning. Insurance meetings and whatnot. This meeting was so much better than last year’s. Last year the broker lady was all, “well, if you made 120,000 a year, you could get this plan” and “if you could just work less and make nothing, the you could get this”. Not helpful. All we could do was nod and think, “yeah, but, we don’t, and can’t. So…” We ended up on a stupid plan, but this broker we met today was awesome and is going to get us back on track. She addressed me directly, instead of through Hp, so that was the first good sign.

I’ve been thinking about this comet landing. I’d like to write a poem about it, especially since it sings and all:

Singing Comet

But then, I’ve got this strange poem about absence and presence floating around the brainspace, so I’m gonna do that and then go do weekend stuff with HP.


Alexandria, the town without a princess, the town that bows and takes a leave of absence. She leaves all absence in favor of now right now, bending slow and abandoning the handmaids, arching back to feel the gentle taps of slow rain and falling decay. Stretching low to the earth Alexandria breathes in the loam and the mother, rising by vertebrae she throws strong arms back to the black sky, and despite the stars gone, looks at the tail of one ten years and ten centuries late, and perks her ears at something. Some kind of song. Some kind of chorus that fills up the space with winds that whistle and ding.


My folks always told me that my name was going to be Alexandria had I not been born seven or eight weeks early and too small for such a grand name. Instead I became Anna. Of sad trains and poets and such. That’s okay with me. I don’t truck with the grand. Happy Friday, readers of mine. I do love you all. Thanks for reading 🙂