caralee

fresh bagels after babbysitting. i came home, sat down, and ate THREE, with butter. how i am below 130 lbs is beyond me.
handing assignments in early makes for wiggling.
drawing pulsars for fearful friends.

add 'i'm whizzin' with the door open' to the 'stupid things that make me laugh'

i believe in the power of the neti pot.

otherwise full of lime zest and coconut oil. solid, crumbling.
everytime i feel this good, something crummy always happens that makes me start doubting myself all over again.

no more lame-age, thanks. at least all the record scratchin' drama has died down, looks to be permanent.
and so i dreamed about canoeing in a dark, warm ocean with lp, mistaking cliffs for trees and pillows for arms.
someday, js.