Ten.Seven Hundred & Sixty-Two
I thought there were donuts but there are none. There will be frowns about this.
Going to work feels easier today. Maybe because I know I’m off tomorrow.
Big hair. Don’t care. But I also don’t want to do the work of this for very much longer.
Margaret Atwood reading Alice Munro. Yes, please.
We talk about food. About empanadas and the importance of a good pastry. Of pies, both sweet and savory. Of pierogies. Of peach cobbler, apple and pear tarts, and crisps. I’m getting hungry.
It must be the heat that’s scrambled my brain because I can’t remember anything or hear anything or see anything right now.
Turbine shadows on the golden hills.
Still getting requests for tucking in.