December 28, 1997

Quiet, grey day. The clouds are serrated and layered like wild white-caps over an angry grey storm sea, and they run from horizon to horizon.

Lazy day. Woke up too late to go to a movie with Regis. John worked outside all day, and I worked inside, on entries. Power flickering with each buzzing yowl of his electric saw setup. I was lucky and glad to get as much writing done as I did.

Spent the evening doing birthdays at John's mom's and dad's place. A lovely small dinner with the four of us and Fezzik, who was on his best behavior. Lasagna, garlic bread and salad. Blueberry pie for dessert as it was all our favorite, with candles and then presents. We'd just never had the time to schedule the time to have birthday dinner with them until now. Too busy. Yeesh.

My birthday present was a box filled with candles, votives, votive holders, candlesticks and candlestick holders. Crystal, brass, and colored or crackled glass. Gorgeous, small, lovely and all unique. It was so much fun to unwrap each little thing, and it turned out that Isabel had had fun finding each item as well. As a whole it was really keen. John had told her that I'd gotten more into candles and burning them while bathing for relaxation. Flames are so keen. Living, almost, breathing, feeding from the wax or oil, and flickering with each change of air and temperature. A small miracle of plasma.

So we had another happy, happy birthday. And it was very nice, small intimate dinner.

Another happy thing was getting back into contact with Raven, who had been away on a small vacation. Good to be writing again. Odd that a friend of less than a month can be missed. It was also good to find mail from Carl home from his holidays. Small strands of contact.

© 1997 by Liralen Li

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