I don’t really know about that, but I have written more here in the past month than I have in ages. Clearly the interaction with my readers is non-existent at best, but I keep doing it. It’s the practice I miss, the discipline I lack though a friend of mine mentioned I am not without discipline since I cook so much. I keep a full time job and have for most of my life, but I am not sure that is a great indication of discipline. It is more of an indication of me not giving up and of course, knowing I needed said work for benefits, and when I say benefits, I do mean health insurance. I cook a lot because I am suddenly really good at it–all those damn meal boxes coming to teach me a thing or two. I really do think anyone who can read can cook, but since that is probably not totally true, I do sit pretty satisfied that though my cell phone is now off (come the fuck on Verizon), we do eat real food every day and I haven’t even ordered takeout in a week or so, which yes, is a damn miracle here. Primarily because Don is not home to eat with me except a few times a week, working opposite land to me and my consciousness.

But yes, something new every day. I am not a meal prepper exactly though I would love to think I am together enough to do that. I still go to the grocery store like I did on the east coast, small batch buying. I could not imagine only going once a week. Plus, how are you supposed to get the $0.99 vegetables I know and love to throw into things? Well, don’t go and you get nothing.

I can admit the idea of ordering some grocery takeout is mildly satisfying. I assume they would put greater care into picking my items than even I would, and honestly–I RARELY go into the grocery store for one thing and only come out with that one thing. No, one thing usually means maybe 5, 6 smaller things I remember as soon as I pass by the aisles that have them.

But right now Courtney is offering a new facial treatment I am trying to manage so I am going to have to cut some corners for a few months to offset the cost. There are a handful of you who might know–but given my whole body is kind of been unruly and a bit of a garbage heap–the only thing I tend to spend any time on is above my shoulders. The whole, thing, head, hair, face, I would say neck but it seems my neck is fine. But my face. I have had so many glycolics and micro treatments in my life–the result of terrible acne pocking my face but you wouldn’t know now. As I gleefully mention sometimes, because I sandblasted, peeled and burned the scars away. Now my face is the only thing that sets me apart from most 40 something women. No botox, nothing injected, no fillers, but almost anything else, sure (except surgery, been there done that). Non-surgical techniques for the girl who has been under more than the average anyone, really.

Oh yeah, my phone is off though nobody calls. Given the giant bill and the fact I rarely take it with me anywhere, make less than a handful of calls a week, text three people, HONESTLY. WHY DO I HAVE IT? I am not one of you, I realize. I could care less about my connectedness, preferring not to be most of the time. I removed Facebook off of it like a WHILE ago, and haven’t had it on my phone since I had my 917 which was a longgg time ago now. Yeah, I have instagram, but I am also shy so honestly, who really wants to see me?

Yeah, thought so.

Love you world.