All the counselors hate the waiters and the lake has alligators.

I keep coming over here to update you on what’s happening, but it seems that every time I start typing it’s either “You guys. I’ve been working more than ever lately.” or “Less than 72 hours until Meredith is in our car again.” or “Harper leaves for her camp on Sunday.” or “My aching shoulder!” and unless you are living under this roof, none of it really means anything. (Because I lack Balance, the house goes to hell when I have deadlines, but you don’t care about that. We’re still able to eat. No one is suffering. Yes, that pan has been in the sink for over a week, but it hasn’t really affected my spirit.)

I used part of my Barnes and Noble settlement money to order the new Dave Eggers book that’s coming out on July 26th. Do you care about that? No? (I care about it. I need it to be better than The Circle.)

The Tour de Fleece begins on July 2. Although I’m not an “official” participant, I’m using the event as an excuse to get back on the wheel. Yesterday I cleaned her up and restrung her.

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I then went to the closet and retrieved my alpaca/silk rainbow gradient.

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And even though it was June 29 which is not quite July 2, I spun because it was a tricky day and spinning muffles my monkey mind. I’ll keep you updated. (On the spinning. Not my mind. Actually, I’ll probably keep you updated on that, too.) If you’re interested in the specifics, the yarn will be a chain ply in the DK weight range. I haven’t devoted much time to spinning in the past year, so it will be thick and thin, but not intentionally.

Oh! Wait! This past Saturday I was able to meet someone I knew only from the internet as she and her husband crossed the country on their motorcycle. We brunched and I love her and I know the internet can be sort of a crap town, but it’s also daisies and waffles.

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My trapezius is sleazius!

I just received an e-mail invitation to participate in a summer toe ring event and does no one understand me anymore? I’ve been in a bit of a funk over the past few weeks and I’m sure some of it has to do with Meredith being 185 miles away for eight more nights. (13 down. 8 to go. She is loving every minute of camp, yet the house feels a bit unbalanced without her here.) She texts every night at 10:00, and I’m always laughing by 10:03.

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I had forgotten about the existence of cottage cheese until yesterday morning.

While taking piano lessons, the C7 chord was always my favorite. Imagine my delight when I was told that I have a bit of an issue with the C7 nerve in my neck!

Physical Therapist: I think all of your issues are leading straight to the C7.

Me: But I LOVE the C7! The song Coconut by Harry Nilsson is nothing but a C7!

Physical Therapist: Okay! Also, your left shoulder is very depressed.

Me (whispering): I’ve noticed that she hasn’t been been enjoying the things she used to really love. I’ve encouraged her to journal.

Physical Therapist: I don’t mean like that.

I talk too much when I’m nervous and I tend to crack wise at inappropriate times. I laughed at my grandma’s funeral and I’m still feeling weird about it.

I could tell you a story about Graham Cracker the cat, but the story contains the words “I woke up to him vomiting next to the bed” and “it was filled with live worms” and “they looked like flailing spaghetti noodles.” Please know that he’s fine now, yet I’m still a bit scarred.

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Meanwhile, we’re thinking Chocolate Chip needs to eat less and move more.

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Wait. I really *do* have big news. Do you see the jacket I’m wearing in this CrazySexyCool public bathroom selfie?

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I’ve worn this jacket nearly every day for the past two years (I’m not exaggerating. It was 100 degrees two days ago, and I wore the jacket.) and now it’s getting frayed and dingy and earlier this week I pulled on a thread and I heard something that sounded a lot like Defeat. This jacket has been with me at some pretty decent times and the thought of removing it and releasing it to the kidney people was really upsetting my already depressed shoulder.

All of this buildup to say: I found a (hoodless, but acceptable because I can’t have everything) replacement jacket, and I know I wear the hell out of my jackets so I purchased a grey one AND a black one. (I’m getting to know myself very well. Making good choices. Boiling and peeling eggs ahead of time so that I can have one when I’m ready. I smell like lemon, lime, orange, Peru balsam, and ylang ylang which means everyone around me feels delighted and inspired.) I will not be releasing the original jacket to the kidney people. Instead, I may Pinterest it into a memory box creation with David Sedaris ticket stubs and perhaps a book of quirky short stories cleverly (and lovingly) stitched into the pockets. (Cleverly. And lovingly.) I’ll sit the jacket next to a mason jar that has battery-operated Christmas lights in it, because I think that’s what you’re supposed to do. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Be obscure clearly.

It has been nearly three weeks since I’ve seen you and a complete rundown would take forever and wouldn’t be worth any of your time.

Highlights of the past several days include:
1. Graham the cat started a three month food trial. Sadly, Chip is the only cat who likes the new (super expensive) food. When someone in your house is going through a food trial, the overall stress level increases by 2.73%.

2. I had a dentist appointment. No cavities. I ate a bunch of broccoli afterwards.

3. Jeff had a colonoscopy. No cavities. Wait. Nevermind.

4. I was called The Great Internalizer by my doctor. As a result, she prescribed physical therapy and massage therapy for my left shoulder. I had a deep tissue massage yesterday and today I feel like Muhammad Ali—the 1971 version after the Joe Frasier fight. I’ve been walking around the house all afternoon wincing and punching things that aren’t really there and whispering clever rhymes and being what I want. (I’ve learned more about Muhammad Ali in the past week than I’ve ever known about him, and I’m so glad I’ve paid attention because he did so much more than butterfly floating.)

5. I continued to grow out my hair, and parts of it are now measuring in at four inches which is almost long enough for braids and exactly long enough for this—a style combination of Yoga Head and My Shoulder Hurts Too Much to Care Head:

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We’re leaving soon to take Meredith to a three week camp, and it sort of tastes like packing her for college which is exactly what it IS because the camp takes place on a university campus. She’ll be taking a college level business course and hanging out with other kids who are taking college level courses and I wish I was going to camp. (Please be aware of the fact that Meredith has twenty three t-shirts that advertise her love for My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, and Twenty One Pilots. Because of this, she will not have to do laundry at camp.)

Harvey Danger. Live. And it all begins with a French horn, which is pretty much how all good things begin.

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