Last night I made a vat of lasagna. A vat - full out, stir plus toads. I fried onions and zucchini and tofu and garlic. I bubbled noodles in a pot with extra virgin olive oil. I buttered the pan and lay thin slices of curled flat noodles. Indeed, my vat of lasagna was so huge and megolith that I had an extra pan to put in the freezer and enough to feed a herd of enraged Kodiak beefalo. I love having leftovers like this.

It is wicked cold outside but big-sunned and the sidewalks look white-washed, you can even see the water marks where the white-wash seems sparse.

The turtle, Sir Cedric, is pining for sb, who he loves far more than he could love me. I'm trying to adjust.

And I'm thinking about all my friends today. cc (not c2) called from Ecuador this weekend from the beach in a hammock with booze in her hand, and then later with Big Tom, who I haven't talked to in so long. I stopped being angry at cc for ditching me this winter break. I feel delicate towards all things around me right now.

And I've decided that I need to start writing fiction full-bore with a gutsy glory, so I'm going to be shifting blog direction soon, just a warning. Laters.