sylvia ate a bee

for mothers day i did just what my mother would do. i fought old ladies and children at a charity perennial sale, came home, poured myself a glass of red wine and planted two gardens of phlox, hostas, primulae, and bleeding hearts and many pots of herbs, tomatoes, and lettuce. i have dirt under my nails, cheap wine stained tongue, and my body feels...well, it feels.

just went to sundays at the jbi to hear an acclaimed (bad) local writer read about (what sounded like a bad) trip to india. tables of leechy girls laughing at jokes about yoga and masturbation. we left early and stepped out into a beautiful downpour which tore all of the very heavily scented blossoms off the trees to cover the streets.

had a marvelous day with sylvia. she has slept beside me every night he has been away since thursday. she dug, climbed, sniffed my plants, and ate a bee. little daughter. i came home from poetry night and called her and she walked sleepily out into the hall "mew?. . . mew?" she wants to know where he went. muuummmmm. awie little one.