Getting Somewhere

I can type with two hands and pet with one hand, but that makes three. Pet with one hand only leaves one. And Sheba, Queen of Sheba enjoys it so elegantly and totally, almond eyes closed to slits but looking up at me with, I swear, love.

I am here perhaps avoiding working on my live donor letter. Yes, after two+ years on the waiting list, I am going to send that letter out to everyone I know and am related to, the letter they want you to send the first day, and I'll put it up here, too, why not?

It is interesting, I think, that I slowly got ready. I woke up from my nap today writing it in my mind. (BTW, if I take two hands to type, the cat is gone, as in Who needs all that racket?) I said to Tom, "Daniel would say I had to unravel a lot of stories. But it seems to me it's about ideas. I have these ideas in my mind. Stories hang from some of them like ripe figs." So perhaps I don't believe some of these ideas any more, ideas like "If you were really popular, three people would step up, everyone eager to give you a kidney." Maybe I understand now that peoples' reasons for altruism or not-giving are personal and strange, and that how people treat you has very little to do with you.

Ah, so. I find myself wanting to play Frogger, i.e. to escape from the letter, which in fact is out of my hands right now, as Tom wants to research some of the stuff. That is the kind of basic out-of-it life I live. Frogger. Oh well. As for the photo, when Suzuki said we should sit like a frog, I didn't picture it like that. But maybe that is the way. The Way is never what you thought.