If I could write poetry that should ever be read, I'd write one here.

I tried out my oil pastels the other day - the only things that came out the way I wanted were B and the tree near us.  I'm too impatient for art, or at least I was at the time.  I couldn't take the time to make things the way I wanted.

I warmed my house last night with friends and prayers and fun and coffee and brownies.  It was very nice.

I asked for help yesterday, and I was rewarded a hundredfold.  It will take time to create a group of people here, but I'm off to a fantastic start.

Today, I get a quiet day.  Maybe my books will make it out of boxes today, around my friend time and me time.

I'm mostly decaf these days - the caffeine really was messing with my system, much more than that little bit of time with the caffeine doing what it was supposed to was great.  I just need to learn to wake up my brain in a different way.

I found my puzzle that I bought at the Friends of the Library book sale for a quarter last fall - I'm excited to start putting that together.

I was told yesterday that I must've been an English major in another life because I wrote well.  That was a first.  I just write the way I speak and throw punctuation in when I pause.  Though, I guess when I take time to compose my thoughts just the way I want, I can speak pretty well.

Teaching helped me overcome my fear of expressing myself out loud even more.  I started the process in Haifa.  It's a journey that will keep on going.

I have even more pictures on my walls, and I love it.  Pictures of the beautiful places in the world that I've been.