Please do not make a seven layer dip.  Those are so 80’s.  Upgrade! Upgrade! Upgrade! Plus, everyone always uses CANNED refried beans and we all know those taste like dirty paste.  If you bring a 7 layer dip I will feel sorry for you.  Cease and desist.

Nine, I am sorry.  I haven’t been around.  Had a little “medical emergency” a few days ago that sort of set me off, sort of “took me aback”, sort of “rocked my world,” let’s say.  Off kilter and what not.  I hope it’s passed.  I hope it was a “fluke.”  I hope it never happens again.

Today, I am writing here, so that means improvement.

I need a shoulderiffic blouse.  Something to hang a little and drape.  Maybe boots.  A necklace length of chimney. Of smoke.  A place in the snow where nobody can find me.  A starting over.

With every stale part of me, there is no space for the fresh. 

Last night I threw away a rotten bag of arugula I couldn’t see was in the drawer.  “What’s that smell?”  Found it, now brown, watery, threw it out.  If only we could do that with ourselves.  All due respect.