Thursday, March 26, 2009

Practice

Books and pizza intimately entwined in a love affair. Both are rewards, and thanks to Book It, one leads to another which enforces the first. It's hard to rip these lovers apart. I'm caught in a menage a trois of different mediums and all I want is monogomy.

I've had many encounters with cabbage, but none of them are memorable enough to tell at dinner parties. I can conjur up images of slicing and dicing for dinner salads, and if I sit still enough I can feel the purple squeek between my teeth. I wonder, though, how much of this is all just imagination.

I wonder if I knew I'd marry him, as I stood in his tiny Canadian apartment washing pork chop residue off the dinner dishes. His apartment always smelled like meat and empty coke zero cans. Washing dishes used to be my least favorite chore, which is now replaced with lugging a whirring sputtering vaccuum cleaner around my apartment, balancing the cord while lifting up chairs.When did I begin to recognize the meditative quality of swishing leftover dinner scraps down the gurgling drain?

Real jello is red with raspberries suspended lovingly in every bite. It has power on holidays, but only if eaten with Coscto white rolls or grandma's overnight dinner rolls.

prompts taken from Old Friend from Far Away by Natalie Goldberg

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