Last night my sister's memorial service took place back in Illinois from 6-8 p.m. Just at sunset, a little Cheshire-cat-smile moon showed in the sky with venus shining brilliantly right next to it: a rarity. Haven't grieving people always looked to signs in the heavens for comfort? I suppose we do it because that is all we can think to do.
My sister's flickr set. I didn't even know she had added me as a contact, somehow, and today I miraculously found these few photos that say so much to me. I love the blurry one - it is just perfect.
The bad news is that my hair is in mourning, too. A slight misunderstanding about just how dark "Medium Brown" home hair dye is and a timing problem due to the effects of an engrossing novel have left me with a color of hair that would do Imelda Marcos proud. A nice, glossy almost-black.
Fortunately it is semi-permanent dye, though. Clairol claims the color lasts for 28 washes. Let's see...if I wash it 3 times today, and twice on weekdays...
I awoke last night with these words from my last post in my head:
A certain blogger - Vicious Rumours - went way out of her way for me. She took it upon herself to help me out and came through in a big way.I thought "Damn, the rhythm of those sentences are all messed up. I should get up and rewrite them."
Do you do this? Write by rhythm? I don't know how it works, exactly, or what the rhythm IS, but it drives me nuts if it is wrong. I am more conscious of it in my paid writing than on my blogs, which are more conversational.
Tell me I'm not crazy. Does this make sense to you?