some ludicrous green shoots

When I brought my birthday roses into the kitchen to salvage what was left, I saw this:

This week has happened in spite of. I had to write a term paper which I didn't want to write, was sure I couldn't write--which seemed so pointless that it seemed a case in point of all the reasons why, beyond this degree, I cannot continue with academic English. There were, though, these roses. And yesterday I bought Tim a peace offering pie and walked to the downtown library to pick up a stack of books I had on hold. I hadn't even reached the automatic check out before I realized that I was juggling no less than five books on emotional eating--and a bakery box. Justina came over in the evening, with beer. I taught her how to knit, carried on about different types of cast ons and the wonder of Ravelry. (I must stop waiting for my life to start, or get good.)