I am beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds. Sometimes in smiles.

I don't say anything and I feel awful. I tell somebody and I feel worse. I'm having trouble finding a middle ground.

I don't just use yarn from a store. I buy old sweaters from consignment shops. The older the better, and unravel them. There are countries of women in this scarf/shawl/blanket. Soon it will be big enough to keep me warm.

Cold and silence. Nothing quieter than snow. The sky screams to deliver it, a hundred banshees flying on the edge of the blizzard. But once the snow covers the ground, it hushes as still as my heart.

I sit at a table close to his desk. Ivy is in this class. She sits by the door. I keep staring at her, trying to make her look at me. That happens in movies - people can feel it when oother people stare at them and they just have to turn around and say something. Either Ivy has a great force field, or my lazer vision isn't very strong.

I want to make a memorial for our turkey. Never has a bird been so tortured to provide such a lousy dinner.

Didn't help to ponder things that were forever gone. It only made a body restless and fill up with bees, all wanting to sting something.