quick update

This week has been totally rushed, but in a quite good way -- the nights are cool again, almost cold, which means no fan blowing across the foot of the bed, which means warm lump of kitty on my feet when I wake up; and the sharpness of the night lasts well into the morning, stirring a greater alertness and sense of purpose in the blood.

Life has meaning again; I'm moving into my new house in a month; I will be busy with packing. Budget management is going well, and squeezing a filling yet cheap living out of a dry stone is fun. Solitude is no longer burdensome; I will see all my old haunts at Grove City in October, and John; the leaves are starting to turn, and Michigan is beautiful, and I long for open windows and open highways, a transitory passenger through a transitory season. It's almost time for apples. I spend my work days with the new receptionist mocking our particularly horrible clientele and streamlining office efficiency. I can get my work done again.

The poetic spirit is restless, but the mind is blank. I'm happy but sleepless. I quit smoking on Sunday cold turkey. The shakes and what my grandfather terms "the scoots" are abating, as are the headaches. Gum is handy. My memory is shot. I can taste things again, which is great except for envelope glue. The cough has disappeared. I keep my hands busy and talk on the phone a lot. The Scotch-Irish stubbornness and the grace of God are pulling me through.

My living room is a mess, overwhelmed by the bulk of the chest I bought for cheap and refinished for not-so-cheap. My birthday is on Saturday. My sister's present is beautiful. The Sarah Connor Chronicles is back and I love it. Bones is back and I love that, too -- I still keep holding my breath, unable to believe it's on its fourth season...so wonderful. Robin McKinley's next book comes out in a week, and I wish it were sooner. Bones Season Three won't be released until November. I feel a mini-music spree coming on (Conor Oberst released a solo album in August!).

It feels like Friday. I'm mostly content, and I'm tired. Soon I will celebrate another year of life, and look forward to the good things to come, mysteries ripening on a nebulous vine, piercing the air and the salivary glands like the grapes ripening now on the shores of Lake Erie.

Someday I'll smell them again.