Thoughtfetti.

I really miss Someone.  I sometimes catch myself feeling something akin to mourning - it is as if he has died but is not dead, gone but still here, and I feel caught in this thick, sticky sap of not-knowing, not-doing. I am deeply saddened by the reality that, as a consequence of his own actions in the past, there are very few people who care that he is in jail, and fewer still who want to help get him out.  It can't be helped, but it leaves me feeling terribly isolated and increasingly frustrated.  He is so easy to love, but his love is not easy on a body.
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I am making some roasted Greek potatoes and they smell amazing.  Mum bought some seasoning mix for me on our mid-week trip, and I decided to test it tonight.  I hope it tastes as good as it smells!
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It was 66 degrees inside Casa de Crazy when we got up this morning.  Spring, it seems, is making an attempt at a come-back and had enlisted Winter's aid.
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I was lucky to find some potatoes to cook - seems one went off and most of the rest followed.  Have you ever smelled that liquid that potatoes turn into - no, not vodka, alas - when they go off?  Gah!!!
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I have damn near incapacitated every muscle and bone in my body doing it, but I got the bed from downstairs in the guest room up into Sprout's room, and she slept on it for the first time last night.  She loved it...and loves playing on it during the day.  I may have to Duct Tape the sheets onto it.  She still crawls in with me in the morning, but I don't mind.  Much.
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The Evil Genius came into the house with some red clay he dug out of our yard in his bucket.  He informed me he was going to make play-dough.  I informed him he was going right back outside to play with it.  He wanted to argue, but I won...close shave, because Sprout was with him and she had that look in her eye...the look that says "I am going to paint the walls, floor, and every surface I can reach with what's in the bucket!"  I suspect there with be some bathing happening tonight.
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I am watching Hook.  Wow...Robin Williams looks so young in it.  Funny how ageless he is my head.
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I feel restless but I am mired here.  Can't leave, but staying is almost intolerable at times.  It's the Gypsy in me, wanting to be on the move.  It's the Avoider in me, not wanting to be here where troubles seem to have piled up like leaves beneath the Autumn trees.  I am no less here for feeling the yearning to run away.
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I have an enormous craving for Chinese food.  It strikes me at odd hours.  I can almost taste it.  Groan.
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I think we should revive the word "Popinjay".  It makes me laugh.  Go on, say it.  See?  It's funny.
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This song makes me smile. 
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What're you up to?