it's oh so quiet...

i wasn't even making salad. it just sometimes happens that the olive oil makes its way to my hair. and so it was. and during the soak what was heard? silence. how's that for different. no baby. alas. no chundering (for now). just a circle of taciturn owls. low light. a faint rasp in the chest. if we can forecast and if we put faith in ratios tomorrow is as good as now. and that's enough.

whenever given the choice i always chose the written portion. exams flew by that way. when the challenge was oral the grief was great. it's so for many. isn't that odd? less odd if environmental factors are accounted. who where why etc. and so it might be observed that silence is a parry. letters a thrust. because we use the handiest sword. i don't especially like swords. and my observations are hypotheticals really. a grain of salt etc. for my part i'm most articulate when my response is written. that's not to say my everyday speech lacks united joints. it moves just fine. but there are others besides me. perhaps they're uncommunicative for lack of swords. or lack of hands. dunno.

now i'm making tedious thread. enough!

in other news...

when the oil is scoured out my hair is impossibly soft. and so it is.

s.b. has made me a cuppa. sencha. what a dear. and now the sister is sick too. but she is quiet.

someone asked again if we're twins. i don't understand that mistake. but i'm often flattered by it. ask again in five years. heh.

reading: mother courage and her children. because i've never read it. somebody just gave me a copy. why the heck not.

g'night.