it isn't any wonder that i am awake typing away to pass time before the court date. my fingers, feel cold and numb. i drive with knit gloves on my hands. the old car has karma, it's like an old red steamroller, it just cannot quit or give up. like me.
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tonight, i've admired the moon in the crisp November sky. i've nothing profound to say, so maybe i shall write as i go. let's call it 'unplugged'.
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i love cathedral bells, and i have a dream of being in a piazza in Rome, standing with it all happening around me, like a Zales commercial.
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if i see a pink box, it means bakery item in containment so watch out or i might steamroll you for the contents.
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there is an Italian bakery off the beaten path and freeway that i frequent during hospitalizations, because it has good stuff, the edge is always on travel isn't it?
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today
i woke up after a bizarre nightmare and started a pot of water boiling to cook the cheese tortellini. yesterday i purchased larger containers to take the food to my daughter. i increased the portions, added more fresh garlic. i was thrilled as no other strange shopper was to find wax paper sandwich size bags the last week or so. everyday, i pack a donut, candy, marshmallows and goodies in those bags. when entering a locked down psych ward, you know things. as no plastic bags allowed, shoelaces, forks. you know the drill, hell after a decade i do know it. i have a sharpie in my purse and i have a poker face ready and able.
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i saw her. sound asleep with her head on the chair next to the tv walled room. i gently tapped her arm--no i gently took my hand, and softly stroked her arm while saying, "it's mom, i have pesto pasta". she woke up and said in the most lucid voice i've heard in months, "i want to go home".
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