b

It's cool and wet in california at the moment and it's winter, though "winter" is really something that happens in places where they cut holes in the lakes to fish. people in southern california put on sweaters and panic when it's damp and chilly. not exactly a robust hearty people. this could be projection. i do have on a sweater and i am feeling a little like i'm falling.
the past few days i've been compiling my now list and when I held it up against the trip I want to take i was beginning to think my guide was telling me to scrap the whole project. go home. you're not ready for the big time. find a tour company that does trips for seniors. bingo night on the bay. indian casino day trip. the rose show weekend. then I realize that's not the Guide. it's the sack of story bits i call "my life" that i've collected over the years then made into a blow up bitch buddy who whines a lot, is scared shitless and likes pretend she's the boss. the envelope that lays out the now is thick and full of her complaints. I say this while feeling tired, aching and ..have i said tired? Tired. it's exhausting to take inventory and do it accurately, but i'm tired from years, not from days and if I get all the things I'm asking for, it will be more appropriate to give a thank you card to whatever powers sent it to me. Which leaves my birthday gift for myself. The card has one simple thing handwritten to myself under the preprinted greeting. b. That is the gift I give to myself.