So Adam and Eve were sitting around the table one night playing dice and Adam says to Eve,

or Eve to Adam, or Adam to Steve; it depends who's telling the story on this particular night, and what brand of snake oil is being offered for sale, but in any case some someone says to some other someone else:

"What's that over there, sliding through the tall grass?"

And then the someone being asked looks away, and says, "Oh yes, that. I thought I told you about that, didn't I tell you about that?" and then he or she smiles and asks if the someone asking about the snake would like to try a piece of pie.

I don't know how the world was made. But I have theories about all sorts of things.

It's one of those days when I think I should get something really productive done.

But I don't suppose it's necessary, really. It occurred to me the other day as I was raking the grass that it's the raking, and not the temporary pattern the rake leaves, that's important. And maybe the raking's not all that important either.

In any case, I'm kind of excited today because I'm going to submit an application to an upcoming art show. And even if I don't get to show anything, or I do and it isn't a wild success, or it is and I can buy all the gravel and drainage rock and bags of fast-setting concrete my heart desires, it's not any of that that's the happiness. The happiness is the purpose, and the sense of motion, wherever it might take me.

At the moment, the motion is taking me to the shed, and then the garden, and then the garage. Laundry's piling up, and I've got thinking to do. Laundry's great for that.

I'm sure the raccoons got most of the fish, but where did the little slice of wood go?

I can't imagine a raccoon tucking it under an arm and wandering off with it.

In any case, there are maybe four, maybe five fish left. I hope they enjoyed their freedom before they became a snack for someone. What else might have gotten them, I wonder? Do frogs eat little fish? I don't think so, but then again I don't know much about frogs.

Netting, maybe. We'll see.

Fifteen or sixteen went in; most days we can see ten.

But they seem to be happy enough, the kids in the neighborhood love having fish in the creek (such lucky kids, to have a creek in their childhood) and although we might have provided a few treats for the raccoons (where are those other five or six fish?) it seems to have been a good idea, or at least an entertaining and relatively inexpensive one. I imagine it's got to be better than being in a brightly lit fishtank at Wal-mart, with kids tapping constantly on the glass with their smudgy little fingers.

If I didn't know better, I'd think I was two people trapped in one body.

But it's not that; just one complicated me, trying to grow into a coherent and functioning whole, happy creature.

It's late. I've been using capitals lately. I feel smarter when I do.

I think that not using them is like sleeping in your clothes on the couch on a Friday night. Sort of comfortable, and there's all that pesky time spent changing into pajamas saved, not to mention the soft thrill of rebellion. Anyway. I let my nine year old sleep on the couch last night (at her request) and so now tonight it's my eight year old's turn. They figure I'm a (briefly, pre-teens are fickle that way) cool mom, and seeing as how I'm making the whiteboard into a chore list this weekend, I'll take the points. (Though I'd argue vociferously - and have, on occasion, for various reasons at various times, vociferocity suits me - that I am cooler indeed than even they are privileged to know and experience, and deserve to be treated pretty nicely even without the whole lazy Friday night party thing.)

managed to make it through some difficult days.

so now that I'm feeling cheerful and buoyed by a sense of purpose, I've been quite happily productive in the yard.

no, that's not my house. it's a seafood market beside the bar we go to for the blues jam on some sundays, when we can get babysitting. next to that is a chinese restaurant; we've eaten there and the food is good, with big portions, but my goodness, the bathroom was awful when I went in. I don't think we'll eat there again. it's too bad, too, because the carved fish and dragons by the front door are gorgeous.