when you wish upon a star

Dear Universe,

I would really like to do this writing retreat. Very, very much. I can afford it, and there's still space.

I would need someone to watch the boy for some of that time, or to help with watching him, at the very least, because Chris has to work. Any thoughts on that?

Love and bubbles,

L.

clickies

From the most marvelous jenk: The Long Winter. A story about depression and cookies. Sad, but hopeful, and worth reading.

she's got music when she walks (for seattlejo)

Another one of those fiction pieces I promised for write-o-rama sponsorship. seattlejo told me I didn't need to write her one, but I habitually don't listen to her on this kind of thing. That's my perogative, of course. <3 Love you, sweetest.

And I did say 'anything that falls out of my head' if people didn't request something. This is the kind of thing that falls out of my head. Sometimes I wonder about me.

I saw a red slipper in the parking lot one morning: a single red ballet flat bold against the concrete and rain. An invitation, sitting there like that.

I'm never one to turn down an invitation, especially if it makes a good story, so I looked at it a little more closely. Seemed pretty ordinary - if it were in a more conventional place, like a store or a closet, I probably wouldn't give it a second thought, especially if it was half of a pair. But a single shoe holds all kinds of mysteries; the first of which being 'where's its mate?' and in this case the second being 'why is it here anyway?'

The shoe gave up no secrets, so I wedged it onto my foot. It was a little tight, but nothing I couldn't handle. I tried to take a step - and was overtaken by the sound of enthusiastic horns.

Strange. I shook my foot experimentally.

There it was again. It was like a mariachi band living in my shoe, or caused by my shoe, or something.

Weird. But kinda cool.

I felt guilty leaving the shoe there - no point in littering for one thing, and it just seemed wrong to leave a random magical artifact just ... out where anyone could grab it? I dunno - so I went up to my apartment and tried to figure out what to do next.

The mariachi band scared the living daylights out of the cats, seriously. One of them still won't have anything to do with me.

I paced around the living room, accompanied by marvelous trumpets and the sound of hissing cats. Thought about calling the police, but I wasn't quite sure how to explain the problem. "Yes, hello, 911 Emergency? Yeah, I've got a Mexican band in my shoe. Yeah, this shoe I found - there's a Mexican band in it. Hello?" They'd think I was a looney. I was starting to think I was a looney, to tell you the truth.

In the end I put it in my closet. It's still there, actually. I take it out every now and then when I've had one too many margaritas, dance around, scare the cats again, you know, then put it back, but it seems a bit of a waste.

There's salsa dancing Wednesday nights at the Y. I'm thinking of going.

Magic's no good if you keep it inside, I think.

I prefer 'twits'. And here's some.

• 13:14 holiday cards are half done (need addresses). stopping now. hands hurt. buh. #
• 15:47 nts: you have to use the light box EVERY day, and then it'll actually work consistently. funny that. #
• 20:35 my laugh is an EVIL laugh. BWAHAHAHAHA. #
• 20:40 and there is CAT HAIR in my LAPTOP, NEKO. I know it's NEKO because it's WHITE cat hair. #
• 21:34 Things I am Not Allowed To Do Tomorrow: refer to the SPED breakfast as 'The Breakfast For Misfit Toys.' ... when they can hear me. #
• 21:58 The Siamese fears babysitters. What a wuss. *eyeroll* #
• 22:05 day one w/ caregiver person == win. and she cleans. and sean likes her. AWESOMESAUCE. Now, bed. #

Automatically shipped by LoudTwitter, because I can.