07, oct 07

My father greeted me by the greenhouse with a red lantern, then lead me through the rooms toward the back porch. Lights hung from the trees visible outside. Grapes and acorns on the table with a Spider-man cake and black cherry ice cream. A basket of entertaining hats. An old movie played in the adjoining room. We danced to my own music collection. Watson chased balloons. James photographed the joy, equipped with an orange filter I advised. Dan told verbose jokes. Tim held my hand. Papa looked sweet with his book on lap - he told stories and we discussed my book on saints. Mum spun around, brought up the topic of cake numerous times. Lake smiled shyly.

...
Lake made breakfast for me, but I was too sleepy to get out of bed, so Tim ate it. We spent the afternoon in bed. The previous night we ate steak like kings and avoided Mexican foods.

I just cut an engorged brown dog tick out of Watson's head with a hot blade.

My favourite seats to sit in are the ones from which I can swing my feet, because my abnormally long legs couldn't do it in the normally low seats of grade school. I'm sitting in my father's office chair, swinging my feet, and listening to Bill Withers' "Lovely Day" while he looks for a mahoogma. It's about time that I shower.

Oh my gosh

Yesterday, my grandmother said to me, "That's something to know, isn't it? Every time you have a birthday, I'm a year older."