Maybe my blues were partly brought on by the whole Catholic School Girl thing of Holy Week.
I'm checking in very briefly before putting on a sweater (pink! With a pearl neckline!) and skirt (gray) and Not Dog Shoes (gray) and earrings (moonstones) and perfume (Ralph Lauren's Romance) and going to Grace's house for Easter dinner. I have had to do as little as possible, except be the Woman Behind the Curtain looking for profound things to say about Easter that aren't hideously Christian, in order to face a dinner party, but by God, I'm going and it's only taken half a Klonopin to get myself through the dread of being outside today, along with a new pastry by Entemann's that I don't recommend -- Bavarian Cream. Great idea but it belongs either in pie crust or pastry crust, not coffee cake dough.
I did not go to Mass today. I did, however, take Daisy too church -- the dog run, where I threw-the-ball-threw-the-ball-threw-the-ball until she was filthy. She smiled all the way home and is zonked now. She is the second person, after me, who has been hurt by this episode. She deserved her time of worship. I hope I can move beyond Midaugh Street more often to get her there.
We all do what we can. I absolutely know I'm not the most depressed person in the world, or the poorest. I was pleased at what doing my taxes revealed about my income and now that I've pretty much become phobic about buying anything -- which is not a good phobia when taken to extremes and when do I not take everything to extremes? -- I can see no reason for not hacking away at one of the ties that bind, Visa and Discover.
Thank you for listening. I'm still "this" far from tears of unknown origin but I'm showing up.
In pearls and moonstones and the curiosity of what really happened in that tomb.
We supposedly don't negotiate with terrorists -- um...except on the local level...