Expository
In the spirit of my upcoming tutoring session (the very exciting Expository Writing), I will give you now just the facts. The unemotional, untainted facts.
Christmas vacances were sensational.
I wrote nary a word but for the Christmas cards I sent off in three stages: on time, almost on time, and abysmally late.
I cut snowflakes out of white paper. I decked the windowsill with holly. I found myself married for fifteen years. I found my oldest daughter turning twelve and looking sixteen and my middle daughter turning eight but looking ten.
It looked as if Target hackers had taken over our credit card but it was just the annual Christmas excess (which we annually swear off but to which we easily and inevitably succumb).
In Texas, Merry stayed up late, chatted, ate, and slept in just like the teenager she almost is.
In Texas, Martin and I also lived, slept, laughed, and ate like teenagers.
Martin and I both decided that whomever made us adults was out of their sweet mind.
The day I returned from absolute sloth in Texas, my sister and brother-in-law took me on a hike that climbed 1000 feet in elevation, some of it rapidly. I trailed behind my brother-in-law, who occasionally carried both five-year olds. I trailed behind my nephew, loaded with eight water bottles. I made it to the top and ate pastries.
While I was running down that mountain (Green Mountain, second highest in Kitsap), I wiped out and sustained considerable lacerations, bruising, and abrasions. Welcome home, me. I will cover this later in more excruciating detail.
I gave myself last week to organize, purge, and generally get our lives back on track. After a week of doing those good things, I have bored myself to tears and am now ready to return to a diet of writing and reading and dreaming of the success that never comes to me but remains ever tantalizing.
This brings us up to speed.
The garbage goes out tonight.
The daffodils bloom wildly on my kitchen table.
The dog found a opossum last night at midnight and woke up the neighborhood.
I found a Carl Larsson print of an old woman in black standing next to a red dahlia.
Elspeth took cold pizza to lunch today.
And life goes on. Sing O, blahdee blah-dah.
Christmas vacances were sensational.
I wrote nary a word but for the Christmas cards I sent off in three stages: on time, almost on time, and abysmally late.
I cut snowflakes out of white paper. I decked the windowsill with holly. I found myself married for fifteen years. I found my oldest daughter turning twelve and looking sixteen and my middle daughter turning eight but looking ten.
It looked as if Target hackers had taken over our credit card but it was just the annual Christmas excess (which we annually swear off but to which we easily and inevitably succumb).
In Texas, Merry stayed up late, chatted, ate, and slept in just like the teenager she almost is.
In Texas, Martin and I also lived, slept, laughed, and ate like teenagers.
Martin and I both decided that whomever made us adults was out of their sweet mind.
The day I returned from absolute sloth in Texas, my sister and brother-in-law took me on a hike that climbed 1000 feet in elevation, some of it rapidly. I trailed behind my brother-in-law, who occasionally carried both five-year olds. I trailed behind my nephew, loaded with eight water bottles. I made it to the top and ate pastries.
While I was running down that mountain (Green Mountain, second highest in Kitsap), I wiped out and sustained considerable lacerations, bruising, and abrasions. Welcome home, me. I will cover this later in more excruciating detail.
I gave myself last week to organize, purge, and generally get our lives back on track. After a week of doing those good things, I have bored myself to tears and am now ready to return to a diet of writing and reading and dreaming of the success that never comes to me but remains ever tantalizing.
This brings us up to speed.
The garbage goes out tonight.
The daffodils bloom wildly on my kitchen table.
The dog found a opossum last night at midnight and woke up the neighborhood.
I found a Carl Larsson print of an old woman in black standing next to a red dahlia.
Elspeth took cold pizza to lunch today.
And life goes on. Sing O, blahdee blah-dah.
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