| until: 15 words & a photograph |
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june 28, 2002 there are few things in life so stressful that a cup of chamomile can't help. |
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i think there may be some more words pretty soon.
i can feel them bubbling up in me, needing a place to go. and poor gene is quite tired, i'm sure, of listening to me talk about the useless parts of my life that i can't change, and even the good parts of my life that i can change but don't want to, and most of all the not so good parts of my life that i can change, but have yet to do anything about.
on the other hand, i may just want to talk about the weather. we've had a nicer june than is normal for us, and may even have a fourth of july without drenching rain. that'd be lovely.
i may rant about how tired i am of any woman who freely talks or writes about her period being labelled as brave and feminist and courageous and cool. women, we get them. it is nothing to be embarrassed about, nor is it anything to crow about. it's not as if it takes a special skill to bleed, just some special dna and a uterus. and yes, it is perfectly natural and so is urinating in the alley and i don't care to hear about that either.
speaking of uteruses, uterii?, i found a pattern the other day to make a knitted one. hannah and i were laughing. now there really is something you can give the man who has everything; i somehow doubt he'll have his own womb.
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