the taste of january.

since my last post, i've allowed my hoofs to step forward, with ease. and rather than dreading how that next gulp of anger will feel after its defecated on my tastebuds, i've been breathing deeper. fuller. 

the wound has healed and now a tight little line sits on my paw like a smirk. who would have thought it would take a serrated knife to cut through my anguish. 

last night, as we swooped down 65th toward our comfortable "studio," i admitted how much better i felt. it's interesting to step back and listen to yourself talk candidly about things that others take for granted. things that i will take for granted again in a couple of years, assuming this isn't just fakery. 

and rather than those intense solo scornful-face-making-competitions in mirrors, i've been drafting my mental list of "plans" for this year. so far, i hope to: check out local happy hours and music venues, continue to hunt around for the perfect latte, adopt more plants to fill the larger space and convince pickles to become more active.

 

perhaps a festive color-coordinated sweatsuit will entice her. she's bound to cause double-takes in an earthy green or pink. i can hear it now, the neighborhood cat who i occasionally spot in the front yard will meow in the window, as if to say, "damn pickles, you are tearin' it up."