That’s what Harrison said to a passing shopper at the grocery last night while I was perusing the slender pickings in the meat-substitute case (the boys were having chicken sausage with feta for dinner; my lactose intolerance led to my having “chik’n nuggets”). She was a pretty young woman, probably in her mid-20s, and with a very amused boyfriend in tow, who paused to size up his tiny (but formidable) competition. It was really, really funny. She passes by, Harry notices her, busts out with “oh hai,” making bold eye contact. She, taken aback, replies, “oh, hai!” I’m still laughing about it this morning.
I’m currently sat at my favorite local coffeeshop (which reminds me, to some degree of notsuoH in downtown Houston, in its furniture grab-bag days, but maybe not that grungy and sans the open mic poetry nights — shudder) trying to recapture the dissertation-related mojo I experienced ever-so-briefly about a month ago. Turns out, stopping writing to do things like go to Phoenix, get sick, do that damn Music Festival, go to San Francisco (ask me about the horrific panic attack I had on the plane ride home! ’twas awesome) will sort of halt momentum on the Most Important Thing Like Evah. But, I’ve done a lot of reading over the past week and am reshaping my argument, adding some depth, and will hopefully get to the magical 25-page mark for this chapter by the end of the semester.
(Did you know that dissertation chapters are what I consider to be super-short these days? I thought I was going to have to write a 300-page document, but no! It’s more like 125 or something! I can do dat!)
Lots to report, but no time for that now. Meantime, I will say that the recent rains here have made our backyard look all green and lush … and weedy. My garden seems to be thriving, although it wants some pepper plants. If squirrels eat my jalapenos, will it burn their tongues? I hope so, fuckers. That’s what they get for stealing my chard.
Additionally, I’m feeling super grateful for all of the amazingly supportive women in my life, especially those at school who are willing to circle the wagons when necessary to help a sister out.
Oh, and if you’re feeling flush these days, please go read this and consider making a donation. I just cannot even imagine having to go through that with my sweet boy, even though there are days I want to sell — hell, GIVE — him to the gypsies.