#cabin lyfe

[wombat-shaped]

My folks and I went up to the cabin which is a nice end to the week. I’m comfy and sleepy and it’s nice.

[wombat-shaped]

I’m going up to the cabin for the night, so hopefully the fresh air and good wifi will make me feel okay.

[meat-paws]

Sarah, the new farm manager showed up today and I could tell how nervous she was.  The farmer Nancy wasn't giving her much direction because she was swamped with produce orders and phone calls so I told Sarah that if she has any questions she feels too awkward asking, then to just let me know and I will ask Nancy.  I will ask them all; I will be her buffer.  And of course I followed through.  Closed mouths don't get fed I suppose.  Be forward and blunt to get what you need but humble enough to learn with wide open brains.  That's my recipe anyway.  I don't know where the fuck this stuff comes from, I just am getting bolder by the minute.  

Tonight I laid in my loft in the tiny cabin under a fake crushed velvet patchwork quilt while it poured rain, my head about three inches from the A-frame ceiling.  I was writing in my journal, eating chocolate, finishing a Dorothy Parker story- "A Telephone Call," basically the theme of my life.

My sister called from a walk-in cooler in 105 degree desert weather and told me that she wishes hemorrhoids upon people she doesn't like because they aren't life threatening but they do hurt terribly.  

Who knows how to let things go, she says, just do it.  

My cabin-mate, a former cheer leader, sneaks Mike's hard lemonade and licks her lips a lot out of anxiety or something so she gets that chapped pink ring around her mouth.  

She laughs at my stories.  I like her.

[zooswithoutzebras]

I'm in a wood house of emotion