Ginger looks eerily like her own mother.
Writers group still has a lot of flux going on. I dropped the ball on actually having a discreet word with the person who needs having a discreet word with. This could be worse, but it's still not good.
I have a bunch of books in boxes now. That makes a lot of the rest of the things in that section of the room look a lot more like people aren't living here and we might be able to move out in some sort of timely fashion. Will I be living out of suitcases if my packing gets ahead of my brains? I hope not. That would be irritating. I want somewhere ground floor to be able to stow the boxen. Maybe I should inquire after a storage unit, so we can just load and unload, gradually putting things in the storage unit and then moving them in one massive glomp of movingness. We were making plots.
I need a new yoga ball for the laptop, as the old one bit the dust after a good long term of service.
[Insert shower here. Shower, and some packing. Lando is on crack, y0.]
If I'm to be perfectly honest with myself (and since this is LJ, I ought to), I know where the sorrow's coming from. It's the usual, the usual, a whole lot of the usual. I'm in recovery; I shouldn't beat myself up for it; I'm never to be entirely quit of this. Life just doesn't work that way. I'm 27; oughtn't I to have a family now? I guess seeing the picture that Mama sent, the one of Ginger and her son -- Ginger and I are almost the same age. She's the first of the friends I've grown up with who's both married (happily) and reproduced. Shawn does not count in that list. (I didn't grow up with him.) Seeing Tay-Tay with a baby would completely freak me out; I'd probably have to go into therapy or something. My head has certain ways the universe works, and some things are just not on it.
I called Dawn when I was at lunch, and Darkside some time after I got home. Darkside stayed on the line long enough to hear the hysterical tale of bad cnames, but my timing was impeccably bad as is often the case. I'm destined to have a best friend forever in him, I think, and he in me. Since Circle of Fire is on the drafting floor again, some of the college stuff (the stuff involving Shrimpy, mostly, and his ill-aimed love spell) is coming up in my head. I can't claim that the cast is entirely 100% fictional, but I can claim with a clear conscience that none of the book is intended to depict real people or events. (There are some real places in there, like Phoenix, and I think some of the Phoenix driving descriptions are going to be dead-on.) I tell tall tales, and I can't help but wonder how it would have been if ... and I come up with some strange "if" ideas in my pointy little head. What if Shrimpy had never intervened? What if it had failed? Would I have my best friend now? What tradeoffs do we take in exchange for the blessings?
...for all the things that could have been, I'd find it hard to trade out of where I am now.