nail biting

I had a woman pretend to read my palm Saturday night as I left Rolling Oaks Mall, where one of my daughter's friends had her birthday party at a place called "Inflatable Wonderland" - no, not for adults. She was selling a sugar scrub of dead sea something and, as she turned my hand around said "oh, you bite your nails" in this coquettish sales girl kind of way.

This weekend was rush rush rush but I found some time, about an hour, to just chill with my feet up and a couple of books that have been waiting for me on my shelves. And I did a full hour's worth of cleaning while Tigrette did her guitar lesson.

I have been easily angry lately and I mean to put some routine to my meditation so that I can cut that down but I am actually debating anxiety drugs at this point.

I also spent a lot of the weekend going to northeast SA, with trips to the hospital to see my brother and his girlfriend's new baby, Deja Matilda Reyes De leon. I was telling my mother that I felt a little removed from her because she had parts that I didn't recognize. I realized how ridiculous this was when I claim as family most everyone around me - non of whom have my grandfather's tipped ear, my mother's hazelish-green eyes or my father's big nose.

She is a pretty little girl though. Doesn't cry, sleeps beautifully and has the cutest way of stretching - full body, arms up, head tilting so far back you think she's gonna slip out of your arms. Tigrette's happy with her too, is talking about how she's going to show her the ropes. Great, another revolutionary for kids' rights.