Dear Penelope,

I had this completely heinous soup tonight. It was called vegetable beef soup- Granted it was the last can of soup on the shelf but still. I'm going to have to make sure we stock up on acceptable, when you're sick soup, for later. Unfortunately the soup was 3rd in line of really horrible food choices. The first being these usually tasty cactus/corn tostadas that i mistakenly put pepperjack cheese and chili verde on, followed by the soup where most everything was inedible, then some sausage potato thing, a salad and then a canned peach. I wont even discuss lunch and breakfast. I know. I think this mild fever is totally killing any sort of good choices I might be making in my life right now. Though I do tend to alternate between hot tea and popsicles. And I feel like i've gained back whatever weight i've ever lost, and that my muscle mass is wasting away and there's this horrible bump on face and refuses apprehend/sion. Sickness puts sloth in a real whole new light. As in what the difference between quiet, between gluttonous, between taking a moment and being busy in a different way. Makes me feel I have been filling my time and not in bad ways, maybe not in the best ways and not everyday but there is a thin line of difference.

It's blissfully raining right now. Earlier I was going to take pictures of this one bush in our yard that shows signs of a typical fall into winter. Yellow leaves. Scattered about the yard. Little king sparrows raking the grass for bits to eat. I saw one pick up a leaf, held it high and aloft, and turn around in a circle with it. He did it twice. I didn't understand the dance, but wondered if my poet self could ever transcribe the feeling of his pirouette. I gave up and though i told myself it was worth it to set down all such moments- I don't know if I will. I should. There's a definite loss there in all the recorded moments even if they never make it into print. But I didn't take the picture or write the poem and I went back to reading Brideshead Revisited instead. So far I really don't see what the big deal is. Also I really hate alcoholics... though I know my mercy for them should in some way expand. But it doesn't.

Anyway, I still have a fevor. Yes mispelled. But its essentially like fervor... fever. I don't know. But that's where the mind goes. And my eyes are heavy and I'm debating stay up another hour and languish or sleep... last night I dreamed about a zombie invasion. There are benefits sometimes to abstaining from sleep aids. ;)

m.