Ghost Breakfast, or, You Aren't Going to Eat That Anyway So Let Me Help You

Quite a beautiful night, tonight. The air, indeed, smells like candy and fire.

Most of the day today was spent recovering a bit. I've had a cold. It was nice to just be in pajamas and get a ton of reading done while drinking various hot beverages.  Thank you to all of those who were sweet enough to offer lemon and honey and fake ice cream deliveries.

I've been trying this theory of painting in order to write.  It's been working. There is something about productivity of one form that can influence the productivity of another.  It feels good. It gets my homework done but, perhaps more importantly (?), I am feeling pleased and happy with how the paintings are turning out.  I haven't felt this satisfied since the facial expression of a cockatiel I nailed earlier this year.

It came as no surprise that Little Zebbie and I had a psychic reunion today. It's not just because people visiting my house have been asking about his painting. It's that it was Halloween and that we are forever tied in one way or another. For better or for worse, as they say, that little fucker will always be linked to something important in my heart, mind, and dreams.

Tomorrow's early morning date with myself and a favorite food is anticipated.  This week has been one of new (and reemerging) connections that I am both excited about and that feel important.  Equally important, however, is my strange self being able to lure myself out of bed on such a day for my favorite waffles. After all, Nov. 1st is the Dia de los muertos that is specifically for remembering children who have passed, so you had better bet that me and BGS have a breakfast date. Reemerging connections, indeed. It will be the first time I don't have to trick someone into letting me eat the waffle off of their plate.


be well; be loved,

k.

(image: By Eric Rose)