Tori’s Writing Hole

I’m actually doing ok. For some reason, a switch to a lower dosage of the same pill I was already on seems to have killed the crazies - for now. I’m less tired and doing more housework, a combo that can’t be beat. I’ve done some real work, been thinking about expressing myself through visual art as well as the written word, and I actually read some poetry aloud to Stephen. Yep, all this happened in two days. Damn, if I’d only known… I might not have lost the last six months or so to fog and darkness.

Julia’s so damn adorable, she wants to name our cat “Chicken Balls”. See, we were playing with names around the table - ranging from “Beans”, “Waffles” and “Gray” to “Albuquerque”. We were prefacing each little statement with “How about…”, which is Julia’s cue to name an animal for our thrilling, endless rounds of Old Macdonald Had A Farm. I guess Old Macdonald was about to have Chicken Balls… because as we were saying “How about… Waffles?” she came out with “How about Chicken Balls?”. Chicken Balls… for a moment, we thought it over. It would have to be abbreviated, see, because I don’t think anyone would understand two grown adults calling a kitten Chicken Balls. CB didn’t quite have the ring. And of course, the picture of what Chicken Balls would be… lil’ shriveled balls on a cock. (Ok, now I’m not safe for work!).

Besides this gem of a memory, Julia has decided that she wants to clean everything. With a little dry paintbrush. Which is also her magic wand. I so hope this enthusiasm for cleaning continues until the age of 10 or so… when she actually can.

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