experimenting with non-accidental naps

Good morning, you Beautiful People!

I'm up early today -- part of an experiment after yesterday's nap. I've been up since 5:30, so I could spend some time outside with our dog (just watching him frolic in the back yard -- the temperature is nearly 80, and the humidity is oppressive. The experiment is to see if I can wake up earlier, then have a *planned* nap, and then maybe have two rounds of productivity in the day, rather than just one. I sometimes have two now, but I can't rely on that. I'm wondering if shifting my day like this will yield a more productive afternoon. I generally get most of my work done in the morning, 

I'm feeling confident in my sobriety and my eating patterns, and I'm accepting where I am regarding the reckless spending. It's not as reckless, but still needs a bit of help. I'm working on that.

I hope you find something beautiful today, and as always, thank you for being here!

words are more nourishing than memes ymmv

I'm struggling with Facebook. I haven't been back for very long, and I don't spend a lot of time there, but I have a couple of friends there who mostly speak in memes, not words, and I find it wearying. I miss the days when social media could be about sharing pictures of breakfast sandwiches, taking silly quizzes about what flower you are, and asking people what five people they would want to have as their zombie-fighting crew.

I guess that relying on sticking my friends-only feed is insufficient, and now I will have to create an even smaller circle within my circle of people who primarily communicate with words, and just use memes as a garnish now and again.

I really don't like our world very much right now, but I'm not planning on leaving it. I just don't like it when the memes feel like someone rubbing salt in the wound, then rinsing it with lemon juice.

lovestory

lovestory

The first time I meet him, 
I dress as a potted plant, 
and he is a ghost. 

He threatens me
with his warm beer,
and I tell him 
he is an annoyance,
and I turn and walk away.

The second time we meet
our friends exchange vows.

I mock him
for not eating his vegetables, 
and refuse to dance,
until my brother-in-law sweeps me away.

The third time we meet,
we walk in brutal winter wind
to a bar that is closed
after watching a matinee.

Then we walk on grassy ramparts
and imagine our children,
and I think I'm in love,
and he knows that he is.

Our friends' vows are broken.

Yet he and I are forever bound:
for better or for worse
for richer, for poorer, 
in sickness and health, 
as long as we may live.

2025.06.24