Holy criminy. I don’t look at my eyebrows for a few days and the damn things completely take over. Yikes. Little sprouts here and there and everywhere. It’s not a pretty picture. I wonder if electrolosis really works and if it does if it costs much and if it doesn’t if it hurts. If all these pieces can be satisfied I ought to go and get some in order to negate the requirement that I remove these hairs with tweezers every three days if I would like to avoid a forest across my face. Frida liked that look. It doesn’t work for me. I’m too pale.
I hurt my back. I spent 20 minutes bent over picking up dog poop out of the backyard, tried to stand up, and that was that. My back was out. I have had difficulty walking, moving, sleeping. I’m beginning to improve. I have not had the back strength to sit and write. I have had lots of interesting things I have wanted to write about, then I think of my desk and chair, my back gives a twinge, and that is the end of that. Back trouble is not conducive to a writing career, at least for a person who does not have a laptop.
I have another offer on my house. It is a good offer. There is another offer in backup if this one falls through for some reason. It’s not as good as the other, but it isn’t bad either. Both potential buyers are in love with my house. I have said all along that I want someone who loves it to buy it rather than some investor who is just going to rent it out.
Last night the man and I went to a hookah lounge and smoked a blueberry hookah. Or rather an exotic blueberry hookah. Every flavor is exotic, but when we asked for blueberry flavor, he said, Exotic blueberry. Oh yes, our mistake. Interesting little experience. Lots of over-synthed techno pop eurotrash music that after a few hits off the hookah thingy wasn’t so obnoxious, although it would not have been my first musical choice. I tried blowing smoke rings. Can’t do that. I tried blowing out just one nostril without covering the other one with my finger. Can’t do that either. I’m not a smoker, never have been, so all those little smoker tricks are lost on me. Overall though, it was fun to try something new.
Darling Milla, my NINE year old, is off on a trip with her class. They went to a farm. It’s in Silverton. She gets to milk goats, among other things. Lucky for her it is supposed to be merrily warm over the next few days. If I had to go camp on a farm and milk goats, I would infinitely prefer merry warmth to icy chilliness.
Now I have a drumming lesson. I like drumming. I love bass. I am not taking official bass lessons. I have been using a dvd. I would like to take bass lessons, I just haven’t done it yet. Plus I’ll need to find a decent bass teacher. I don’t want to waste time or money on a crappy bass teacher. So off I go to bang on percussion instruments and make noise. That is if I can remove myself from this chair. The back is not happy I sat this long. I realize this is a pathetic post. It’s my effort at showing up since the painful back has kept me off track a few days. It is what it is.