'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,
'Ff'lo
fflo

eve

'tis the eve of performance day.  i still kinda can't believe i joined the queer chorus.  i can believe completely that i'm choosing to hang out with those people.  many of them i already hung out with.  

reading music came back to me, which was funny insofar as i had forgotten, in a certain set of ways of knowing, that i ever knew much about that.  i mean, i knew i could decode the book to find the line i was supposed to sing.  i don't think i can explain what i mean, with mush for brains.

presuming nothing goes wrong in the printing/folding/stapling processes, which are out of my hands, i think i'm going to feel as if i contributed something decent just by working on the concert program.  it's good to have a project.  it's good to have a project that needs to be done by a certain time and that you want to do well and that other people might appreciate.  and to learn something in the process.  when i told tim, midway through, that i liked learning things, he wrote something like "ah, learning. yes, fun, at least when it's over."

except, whatever his words, he took the trouble to capitalize.

was telling chris willie today about katie's line about T-shirts (look, i bothered to capitalize)--- a line i'd like to see itself on a T-.  i can't remember it verbatim, though, and it should only be shared that way.  can't access that email now.  i'll give it to you many enthusiastic and dear readers later, if i remember.

so i put my laundry in after i fed the dog, which was after i fed me--- made rigatoni and a big ol' thing of basic pasta sauce.  does the washer take about 20 minutes?  i think of washers taking 20 minutes, but i haven't ever timed mine, or paid close attention to it.  i'd like to let the dog chill in her crate until i go down to move the clothes.

for the first time tonight, while i was cooking (and taking a while doing it), she stayed where she was, in her spot on her bed-like mat chewing her new rawhide, for a good long time.  i could hear her and didn't have to keep looking to see that she wasn't eating something inedible.  or edible for her but not, like, good for her.  or not something i want her to chew up.

ramble, ramble, ramble.

my jaw is slack, such as a woman who once purported to love me used to note, to point out i was fried.  "fish face," she called it.  "you have fish face."  and she'd smile, and i'd catch it too and laugh, feeling a fondness in the familiarity.

that used to happen to me a helluva lot more before my sleep apnea was treated.

the fish face, i mean. but, well, .... 

ramble, ramble.
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