"I don't know what you saw"

Surprising no one, posting after 10 turns out even more disjointed.

 I think I might want all the things.

 

I want to be wanted, not just in fun nakedtime ways, but also  in the sense of being valued.  My old job wasn't the best for me, a fulltime job with parttime hours, but I was actually very good at it.  I'm pretty good with Spark, but there's a lot less direct feedback.  And there's deep, deep sense of wanting to be useful, almost to the point of forgetting that it matters to what or to whom I'm being useful. 

 

Today was long.   We took Spark to the allergist and it turns out it's impossible to explain to, much less console, an 18 month old that you've just stuck with thirty something subcutaneous needle including a few guaranteed to make her itch, and then try to get her to lay flat for fifteen minutes.  I believe think she forgives me, she still reaches out to me when she's upset for snuggles but it's kind of distressing to cause someone you love that much distress.  And She's way more rewarding than having spreadsheet equations balance out, but there's still a lot more room for self-doubt.

 

Right around the allergist appointment, I found out that our dogwalker had some sort of unfortunate car incident that involved rolling down our driveway and smashing through our back fence (they forgot to put the car in park and it rolled away from them when they shut the door to bring Nonsense inside? or maybe they forgot to set the parking brake?  it didn't seem worth it to press for an exact description of what happened, everyone was pretty shaken).  A little more force and the car would have gone off the incredibly steep hill down from our house to the railway.  I'm glad everyone is fine, I picked up most of the pieces of fence out of the neighbor's yard and Light's going to talk to our insurance.  

 

Last night, as a mutual valentines day gift from all of us to all of us, we got VIP tickets to the poetry brothel happening at Sonia. We got front row seats, some extra tokens for private poetry readings and then once again, Light sprung for something called a bang, where I lay down on the stage and many mostly scantily-clad people read their poetry at me simultaneously. It was kind of transcendent and oh so hard to find a metaphor for.  We stayed out far too late and it was totally worth it. 

I keep looking at the same recipe, for a roasted orange tart with a chocolate tart shell and a mascarpone filling covered with slow-roasted sugared orange slices. I suspect this weekend I'll be bringing it into existence. Now, however, bedwards!