recent rain

I had a dream in which I found out I had an infant child. I thought "shit, how did I forget I had a kid? when was I pregnant? and how the hell am I supposed to take care of him with my current schedule?"
I woke up and was relieved, only to find out that I really did have a kid, just learning to hold his head.
When I finally really did wake up, I double guessed myself, touched my stomach to see if it felt like I had recently been pregnant.

My schedule really is strange: I work every other weekend, and my workday is either 7-3:30 or 3-11:30, depending on the shift. I've been tired a lot but hopefully once I adjust to the demands I will no longer come home and fall flat on my face. This job is exactly what I was looking for, out of the jobs available for my level of education and clinical aspirations. But it requires interacting with new people everyday, running around, being 'on' the entire time, and I've never been good at that.

The rest of my family is in Vegas until the 29th, so I have Potemkin for company. He's currently purring next to me in hopes of receiving some affection. Recent rain is dripping from the gutters.

bubble gum

I taught Sima how to blow bubbles with bubble gum. He was so gleeful with his first one, and then right away decided he wanted to blow a bigger one. Are we never satisfied?

Thanksgiving was the usual blur of people and food, different topics spiraling out of control, music in excess, bad poetry with better people. I was told to shut up, and listened as the entire American Black population of the US be called "those fuckers". Watched tiny girls made into superstars while their mothers glowed close by.

Spent a day doing nothing over coffee with Max M. and had margaritas at Sunset grill&tap with Yulka to celebrate my new job, followed by tea and Settlers of Catan, the sleepy settler loosing but I was sober for the ride home and how I wonder about those two girls who died this year at Bard in the hit-and-run. Faces of the past will meld into faces of the future, I want to find an apartment and hope I'll like my new job and arrange my life so that I read and sing and dance and paint and all those other things I consider to be living.
I make it beckon, and then I come.