Homemade instant oatmeal. Let’s give it a whirl.

Beware the ides of March.

No one wants to wake up. Good thing break is coming. Maybe they’ll all catch up on their sleep then.

Ok. Just figure out how to get through the next two days. One (two) day(s) at a time.

He seats us and then tells us he has a sake that’s not on the menu. We might be the only people ordering bottles of sake in Bentwood.

She asks him for permission to talk to me. I mean, she is older and clearly comes from a different generation. I just don’t think anyone has ever asked my husband for his permission to be able to speak to me. She commends me for the patience it must take to have my hair braided. And that it’s beautiful.

What is going to be the most important thing in the end?

So much sun. Sun. Sun. Sun.

Looking at the stars makes me want to write poetry.

The smell of smoke. The glow of the coals. Embers. Fire. Grounding.