In a damask card with yellow ribbon at the crease, I wrote

Mr. & Mrs. Flynn

   Here are the photographs from Danny Boy's graduation, graduation party, and the fathers' day celebration.
   I made copies of the prints I thought you'd like to share with others in the image.
   The party was lovely enough to compensate for a rainy graduation day and the taut, looming week that preceeded it. I had a wonderful time with your family, as always.
   As always, thank you for allowing me to stay with you in your home. It is the most comfortable place I have been inside.
   I commend you for raising two pleasant, glorious sons.

Grace

I've been on the brink of bathing for about two hours, but I can't seem to push myself in the tub. Actually ... I think it's been two days of pushing

I am pillow lava
I am the ruptured gut beneath Llanddwyn Island

James' birthday party tonight, and this is what I'm making:

Three layered strawberry shortcake
Balsamic glazed filet mignon
Honey roasted red potatoes
Bloody mary mix
Carrot dressing and salad

I've walked Watson, as it his entreated custom to wake me just as the birds begin singing outside the curtained window, or the blues turn yellow. A faint whine is heard by the side of my bed that advances toward the door with time, he stares at me and waits.

I saw Spider-man 3 for the second time last evening. But, greater than the film and how greatly Peter Parker, the irascible swain in a parade of depravity, ticks me off, we entered the theatre to find Harry.... I quickly found my seat and sat mouth agape, covered in goosebumps. Oh! It was so arresting. I looked to my left once it finished to see a tear illuminated on Lake's cheek drop parallel with the tear on mine. We've never before been so excited to see a film.

I read this in a gourmet cooking magazine today:

Dodecenal, a compound found in fresh Cilantro leaves, has been found to be twice as effective in fighting salmonella as the antibiotic most commonly prescribed by doctors worldwide.

We returned from the grocery store at 23:00 with breakfast muffins, sourdough pretzels, and chocolate. There is a frog living in the grass, I thought, and sat with qualm. I felt my feet lifting from the floor of the vehicle just as I do when dancing and avoiding frogs in the grass. A spry caper faintly touching the ground.
    "He looks like my frog Rupert," said Lake.
I was silent.
    "Do you know who I'm talking about?"
    "Your frog from the story,"
    "No, my pet frog. I've had a lot of frogs in my lifetime and they've all been named Rupert."


The prior morning I laid my head on Tim's chest and listened to a calm sleep. The alarm in his mobile phone had just gone off - he silenced it. I waited to say good morning and traced the contours of his arm like a path. Watson also wanted to follow; he walked up to us from the foot of the bed, which is where he chooses to sleep only when Tim is here.

Thunder rolls over our French mansard roof.

He rested his head on Tim’s neck and woke him up. Tim put his arms around me, inclined his head toward Watson, and said, “My favourites.” Slow kiss on my forehead. I feel safe regarding our being together for the entirety of our long lives. I want only him. I'm happy with his mathematics and sensitivity.

Lake and I went to see Shrek 3 at the drive-in a few days ago.

I love when I feel convivial. My cheeks feel stained with roses, and warmth comes in from my waist when I smile at people passing me. There are no dark circles under my eyes or distracting brainstorms. I am the first to raise my hand when greeting; I love to share stories, go on about anything you like, with necessary exclusions, and make merry. I don't hold open doors without looking at the crossing person, I hum when making breakfast, opposed to a stare and closed mouth. I say more than a few sentences of substantial reserve and candor. I feel carefree, which is so otherworldly to me.

A Scottish professor of sociology called me a "polymath" today. This word is defined; person of great or varied learning.

my life when I'm with my self

Beetles, slugs, spiders with white abdomens, pharaoh ants, wasps, pholcus phalangioides, bumble bees, and centipedes yet to reach 100. "Lake, fetch me the salt!" Salt, she questioned. Do you want to watch the slugs wither with me? "Err, no." I think she didn't hear the question. Slugs scarcely the size of my fingernail, which are hardly feminine or acrylic, since I've had to cut them to avoid crescent impressions in my palms, and the latter, because I'm not a neurotic buffoon. We do animalistic things for attention. Today, a man with a Yankee tattoo on his right bicep swelled his chest and physically gloated like a peacock. His sister and father were in the wine shop while I waited for my mum to get lettuce and chicken. She had said to me before going in, "You should shave your armpits before wearing muscle man shirts." A muscle man shirt is a positive variation of the name "wife beater", which Tim said, "Most men that wear them and call them 'wife beaters' probably will go on to beat their wives, so it's an appropriate name." The name pharaoh ant is felicitous, as well. Yellow ants, like the desert, of uncertain origins, like the worker men of the pyramids, tramping around in colossal amounts doing chores without end for gods without voices, under men with heavy feet. The weeds in the garden by the kitchen are racking, and I'm clearing it so I can fill it with German irises for my father. He wants to paint them. This means I must kill the insects.