I am turning my mind toward Xmas. Toward little gifts we will not spend a lot this year perhaps something homemade my granny made friendship bread there’s a thought. Fruitcake does anybody make fruitcake does anybody besides Dale actually like fruitcake our bakery charges twenty-five dollars for a fruitcake we bought one last year and Dale never ate it. And will we throw the party and will it make me happy to do it and will it make me so tired and I need Xmas cards yes I am one of those who still sends them I want new silverware, rather, flatware.
And a more generous heart my gods I don’t even believe that I don’t know why I wrote that a foible. ?
I will go to every church service I will and we better sing the merry men and the makeshift guitar the best and what child is this I swear the harpsichord is so stuck up I should invite the ladies over to sing every few days so I get my old time Xmas fix away in the manger little drummer boy.
I’ve missed three days of work, counting today. I really didn’t have a choice I had a fever I know I was contagious and if I had gone I may have been sick longer a setback like women in the eighteenth century a setback she takes to her bed a week later she’s quite dead.
Nothing doing about writing about submissions about thinking about caring I will not have not followed up on any of the leads frittering about my ears so there it is God slips through the door in the hedge I refuse to follow him.
One needs a bit of gumption a belly full of hot coals one must stoke oneself lay on the prod. Really, it’s just writing. Writing is what I do very possibly what I am. Well, too far. I am just now about scrambled egg hashbrown fakon I am also about not listening to the constant whir of eating advice and rules for real just eat a thing and be glad in the thing and aware of how glad you are in the thing.
I cannot muster much else I am quite sleepy but will stay awake by the lords of every manor in my European head.