Dear Long Poem,
Today it is sunny and the pitch of the light strikes my house plant just so. There is a typical sphere of silence in the office and the sleeping toddler clutching my chest breathes warm soft circles into my shirt.
The night was a wreck. There were far to many noises--the window is too close to the chimes. Today, though, is a gift.
I'm thinking about you, long poem. A steady cadence keeps time with my nose. Maybe. Today. Maybe.
Spent all morning playing baby "goalie":
Crawl to book case. Run to book case to stop baby. Crawl from book case to coffee table. Run to coffee table to stop baby from falling. Crawl from coffee table to kitchen. Run to kitchen to stop baby from opening cabinets. Etc..
He's finally asleep, so I can now steal away some quick blog time.
I did manage to get a fair bit of television in today. Managed to watch La Blogotheque's "Take-Away shows." Here's one that's haunting me:
Andrew Bird. "Spare-Oh's," filmed in Montemartre--one of my favorite places in the world.