Lots of little tiny things

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My life, all our lives, are made of endless decisions and repetition. I think part of finding pleasure in reality is grounding oneself into this as reality, rather than endlessly bucking the repetitive nature of it.

This morning I bucked repetition and instead of making the fabulous juice I always make, filled with wonderful things and tasting exquisite, I so wanted a change that I made a juice out of the wheat grass that my husband had carefully cultivated from seed.

I need to say at this point, that I hate wheat grass, it makes me want to throw up, the smell reminds me of his illness and me being pregnant and just that is enough to induce a violent desire to chuck.

Did that stop me? Did it impinge on my reality for even an instant? Of course it did not.

I made a great juice of ginger, wheat grass, celery and apples. I threw in a large red chilli just because I can and found it so hot that I then added an orange and a pomegranate. Fabulous.

It has now been 4 hours since I drank it and I still feel sick. I really do wonder when I will learn the things I need to learn, on a daily basis in the infinite repetition of daily drama, and if I do, will I disappear in a puff of enlightenment?

Funnily enough, I have been trying to buy Groundhog Day off Amazon and two times not I have been told it is not available. Perhaps I am not ready yet. Either that or the kids are not up for me trying to explain reality to them…….

On another note, I miss Georgette Heyer. I never knew her personally, but I miss the effect that her writing has upon mine. I long to have that Georgian edge that her text brings to mine. Words like Damme! And Curses! I am currently reading Dorothy Dunnett. Quite amazing, the story, the characters, the sense of history, but my intellectual speed does not always quite catch up with it all and I find myself going back over several pages to keep up. I do not take it personally. I am not an intellectual and have no insecurities in that area, but she does not colour my weblog in the way that “sport me some blunt” or “in his cups” or “come down from the boughs” can. Damme! I still have another 4 books to get to the end of the series. I feel I must keep going.

If I am not reading that, I am studying numerology. It is so deep and meaningful that I fall asleep all the time! I can barely get through a page without wanting to shut down. It seems to somewhat defeat the point of writing a book if it is so deep and profound one cannot actually read it. Maybe he doesn’t really want anyone to know all the secrets…

I lie with it on the shelf above my head hoping that I can absorb it by osmosis in the night. It would certainly free up some time.