My synapses fired all wrong all morning. I called my mother and asked her what to with my crazy head. She told me to go outside. I laid on a blanket in the yard, with the sun scorching the back of my black t-shirt. I read Anne Lamott's book about having a baby, which is really more just a book about being in love with God after spending years and years vaccumming cocaine like a shop vac while living on a house boat in Marin.
Sean stayed in the house, mostly, and would chat me up through the kitchen window, periodically, batting his eyes at me through the screen.Posted by Jessica at August 23, 2004 11:44 PM | TrackBack