Homemade strawberry shortcake, complete with cake shaped as the number 33.
Yum.
Thanks for all the b-day wishes, peoples.

This whole week has been one imaginary conversation after another. Conversations with people I’ve not seen in ages, never met, might meet, family, friends, pets, trees, clouds, things unknown and imagined. On the ride home yesterday, with a guy sitting at a bus stop on Woodsweather, about his political stance. 3 am this morning, a dream chat with a computer programmer telling me how I need to finish a project at work. Don’t remember the details because I’m not that interested in the project – though I need to get ‘er done like a healthy morning poo. Symptom of an agitated mind. Not upset – just awhirl, stirred up like a heavy stone dropped into a shallow pond. Why this is I’ve yet to determine, but I’m delivering unto myself some interesting dia/monologues along the way.