we have lived in a hurricane of activity the past 72 hours. focused, but nevertheless chaotic. in my head right now, a small jeanne wears hip boots, and tromps  around in a large vat of squishy oatmeal (steel cut, of course. and no sugar.) in search of words and phrases that can be pieced together to tell the story.


she finds no words or phrases, this tiny bootclad jeanne, only oats.


tomorrow, perhaps. after another 11 hour sleep, maybe then i’ll be past the oatmeal effect and will be back to tell you my . . . our . . . story.