1546 shopping days until 220.127.116.11.0 4 Ahau 3 K’ankin.
I am my own gnome.*
Mrs. Dr. Omed likes this picture. September has been mostly fair and rather warm in the NE corner of Oklahoma. I have not taken my usual seasonal swan dive into the slough of despond. I have been going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it, breaking a sweat, and getting into the poison ivy while doing it.
Not to mention leading others astray. But I’m behind on dropping my quota of pebbles down the shaft into the collective stone soup. Well, plunk. Isn’t the standard conversion of image to text a thousand to one?
I’ve been bundling my insecurities and taking out a mortgage on existential angst. Buying more Hosanna than I can afford. I’m looking for signs and finding them:
Let the portents fall where they may.
*Those of you who are familar with the film Amelie will recall that she kidnapped her father’s garden gnome, and sent it around the world with a friend working as a stewardess for Air France. On her travels, the friend took polaroid pictures of the gnome posed in front of various world famous landmarks, and mailed them to Amelie’s bemused father. I don’t have a gnome, so I use (if need be) the ten second shutter delay on my digital camera, and pose as my own gnome.