velocity

As I was driving down Hawthorne, there was a dude in a pirate costume walking down the sidewalk playing a ukelele. I feel I did what any sensible person would do in this situation: I rolled down the window and yelled, "Play Freebird!"

My husband got me the complete collection of Teen Titans, and I'm super excited to watch them. Even though I'm probably 25 years older than the target demographic, I love that show.

To be honest, I don't really do anything interesting these days. Sure, I have a couple writing projects going on, I've played a few video games, listened to some awesome music, knit some stuff, etc. But I know well enough that no one really cares about that stuff, and I'm fine with that. I've got no complaints about my private life being calm, comfortable, and...
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Seriously, you all need to come to my house for coq au vin sometime. It was the best meal I have ever prepared. I was going to take pictures to post here, but we couldn't stop eating.

I was finally able to quantify something that's been disturbing me for a long time.

I have Phantom Limb Syndrome.

I know that sounds strange. I know you're saying to yourself, "But Keri, you're not missing any limbs!" No, I'm not, and I haven't lost any since the last time you've seen me, either.

Here's the deal: I have an old ankle injury. Thirteen years...
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These are my salad days.

In case you were wondering, here is my stance on pandas: I just can't get behind any animal that is facing extinction because it gets too sad to fuck. Much like when Def Leppard's drummer lost an arm, I think that's the universe telling you it's time to give up the game. I know it's a harsh stance to take, but if the pandas can't...
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My life has been moving very slowly lately. It's nice. Long, leisurely, all-day drives through the mountains and trees; conversations that go on, mostly uninterrupted, for three days; long stretches of contemplative silence; a chance to learn, to ponder, to unwind the pent-up backlog of everything that's collected in the corners of my brain over the past thirty-four years.

I feel calm. I feel much...
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A few months ago, I had a mole removed from the back of my right hand. My great-grandfather had melanoma; it's best to be safe about these things.

Long story short, when the little round patch of skin healed some of the melanin bled back in, leaving a mark that looks remarkably like a little mustachioed face on the back of my hand. It looks...
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