My daughter April bought the crib and changing table for my first grandchild today. Actually, her dad bought the furniture. My ex-husband is a generous man. The set is quite lovely.

I think back to when April was a newborn, sleeping in a nice crib, but nothing special. The nursery was the dining room because we didn't have the upstairs ready for her. It didn't get ready until she was nearly four and her sister was about to be born.

Tonight I will think of April putting my future grandchild in that lovely crib and watching him/her sleep.

Postcardx.net is back. Oh, the wonder of it all. I want to send stuff to so many people. What a joy to go to the post office with a pile of mail and know that in days, people will be opening their mailboxes and finding little items of interest from a stranger.

I remember a Ray Bradbury story about waiting for mail, in Golden Apples of the Sun. The story is “Great Wide World Over There,” and I don't really remember the details but it ended sad. Perhaps that is why I like it.

Postcards and envelopes, scattered.

I had never seen someone hysterical with happiness until today. A young woman at work got her final grade for calculus. We heard a scream and then she went running through office, laughing and crying all at once. At one point she threw herself on the floor. It was frightening, but fascinating. Someone managed to find out the passing grade means she gets to continue her university studies. She is studying to be a meteorologist. I think she has the theater qualification well in hand.

I don't think I've ever been that happy. I don't think I want to be.

I keep thinking about the idea of a Wunderkammer. Lots of different sorts of items that link together somehow. Maybe not a big cabinet, though. Maybe just something small that I could hang on the wall. Just have to find the right something that will start the linking. And it all needs to be symmetrical.

I remember the kaleidescope in Bee Season. When I read that scene, I thought of Wunderkammer, or maybe the idea was even mentioned. Though the kaleidescope is depicted as a sign of mental instability, I rather thought it quite sane.

Order is good.

Rain, rain, go away, come again another day. We haven't had the rain other parts of the US have experienced. Flooding. I knew about flooding when I lived on the coast. “Flash floods,” that's something new. I experienced it recently when I had to drive my car through a “puddle” that became a pond in the minutes it took to get to the other side.

I used to loved rainy days. Gave me a valid excuse to stay inside and read. I needed those excuses, or at least I thought I did. It wasn't normal to want to be alone.

Tons of mail today. That's what happens when I only go to the post office box a couple times a week. Mostly postcards, and mostly uninspiring. There is an art to postcard writing that I don't think many people have come close to mastering. Either go on about the card itself, or go completely off tangent and ramble as if it was a note to a long lost friend. I don't get many inspired postcards.

Someday I'll finish an altered book with some of my gazillion postcards. I regret tossing so many when I moved down here three years ago.

Mac and cheese. The world's best mac and cheese, as made by Greg with very little help from me. Maybe that is why it is the best mac and cheese. That, a nice salad with all the garden fresh veggies from the Community Supported Agriculture subscription we got this year, and a nice glass of wine. Or maybe two.

We are getting overwhelmed by the CSA produce. Never seen so much green in the fridge. Greg spent most of the morning looking for things to do with zucchini. There's Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Day on August 8th.

It never ceases to amaze me that people still believe in public broadcasting. I've only worked for the local PBS affiliate for three months, but in that short time I've been impressed by the level of commitment ordinary folk have for public television and radio. And the dedication of most of the public broadcasting staff, too.

I wonder if other countries have people voluntarily paying for television and radio. I know BBC operates as a public entity, but I think UK citizens are required to pay for it. Somehow I can't see my friends in Slovakia voluntarily paying for television.

Started reading The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield today. I was prepared to not like it because it is so popular, but the protagonist comments about a particular book in a personal library and that book is one I didn't think any one in the 21st century enjoyed besides me, Lady Audley's Secret by Mary Elizabeth Braddon. I understand Lady Audley's Secret is popular in UK, but I've never met anyone here who has read it.

Can't figure out why I can read on the bus, but reading in the car makes me nauseous. Even just reading maps.

All my 100 words entries look alike. A longish paragraph followed by a very short paragraph.

I don't trust the word count thing in NeoOffice, or any software for that matter. I've counted the words out and sometimes they are more and sometimes less than the software word count. Maybe it doesn't count some words?

The girl at Kiva Han had on an adorable dress today, looked vintage. She wasn't very friendly, though, when I asked if it was vintage. I decided she only wears that dress to impress. Or maybe she was just having a bad day.

Independent coffee shop, Kiva Han, on one side of the street. Starbucks on the other. Prices are the same. Wait is the same. Quality is actually better at Kiva Han where the coffee is roasted locally and all the food is prepared locally. Money spent in the indy stays local. Money spent in Starbucks doesn’t. Why don’t people get it that big chains suck the life out of neighborhoods? A big chain in an area where there isn’t a whole lot of choice is not such a big deal, but the Oakland section of Pittsburgh isn’t lacking for indy coffeehouses.

Goose liver pate and truffles put me in a foul mood this morning. NPR did a piece on gourmet food produced in China. Had “expert” tasters in to see if they could tell the difference between the cheap Chinese product and expensive European. Why people get freakin’ nuts over a spread made by force feeding a goose and fungi…argh!

And besides, I don’t get snob food. It just makes me angry.

I forgot my bread for my Fakin’ Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich today. And I burned the Fakin’ Bacon in the stupid work microwave.

Not a good food day.

Washing and storing all the greens from our CSA always makes for a stressful Friday evening. Just thinking about how we are going to use all this food in the next few days makes me dizzy. Really hate throwing any of it away.

I blanched the swiss chard tonight, and I'm going to freeze it as soon as it drys out some more. Can't find how you are supposed to get it to dry.

No more spinach until fall, which is a good thing. I am tired of spinach for now.

Will probably make lots of zucchini bread this weekend.

A silly vinyl tablecloth for the table at work. A small round table that no one really uses but me, next to a huge window with a nice view, in the corner of a hall.

I only have a half hour for lunch, so I make sure my lunch is as close to ready-to-eat when packed it, and I am reading my book while I wait for the microwave to warm my meal. Now I have a cheerful tablecloth, a nice ceramic plate and real utensils.

Next I might bring in a potted plant to keep me company.

Fireflies. Sitting in the dark dining room, with the blinds completely open and watching them in the very dark backyard. There is a single star above, like a firefly who was playing freeze tag and hasn't caught the word that he won. The cat is in her bed, snoring quietly. I'm finishing up a nice glass of wine, summery rosé, nicely chilled.

As much as I'd like to live in the city, I know I'd miss this... the quiet of sitting in my own house, looking out into a big yard. Watching fireflies in the summer, snowfall in the winter.

A recent online discussion about Morsbags got me antsy to get my sewing machine running, whip up some bags and send them out to postcardx.net people. Then I started thinking about all the plastic we use, and now I want to find ways to eliminate as much plastic as possible from our lives.

It is so expensive to be environmentally kind. It would cost $20 for 15 large biodegradable trash bags. Yikes. But, really, the point is to consume, thus toss out, less. So, having pricey trash bags that would encourage less waste is sort of smart. Must do it.

I wish I could have just cheese and crackers and a couple glasses of wine for dinner. No cooking tonight. I just want a snack and wine and my book. If only it were that easy.

Food shouldn’t be such a big issue. It shouldn’t be a worry. It is though.

Breakfast is overrated. If I had time for an omelet, maybe I’d feel different.

Lunch is the only meal I never dread. Just wish it was longer than thirty minutes.

I’m going to do a food photo journal. Not terribly original, but it will let me linger over lunch.

The other day I was trying to think of a rather old-fashion word that means food and I thought the word was commustables, which became obviously not correct when I checked the dictionary, and I continued to browse the dictionary but couldn’t find the word. It drove me crazy.

On the bus today, reading A Bed in Heaven (Tessa de Loo), I came upon the word. Comestibles. The book is a translation from original Dutch. I nearly jumped out of my seat with excitement at finding the word that nagged at the back of my brain in a translated book.

How do people kill time at work? I am so very bored right now, though I’m told it will get crazy busy in a few weeks. I should remember to bring my letters to work, or postcards, or something to occupy my mind. I get bored with the Internet and besides, that is too obvious. If only I could sneak a book. If only I could sneak out and buy a cup of coffee at Kiva Han. If only I had real work to occupy me. I hate being idle. Two and a half hours left to fill with idleness.

Talking about urban farming and slow food and eating healthy gets me so excited. If only people paid more attention to food and where it comes from, we would all be so much happier. So easy to cook healthy and I don’t care what anyone says, it isn’t any more expensive to do so. Probably cheaper because once you start eating healthy, you don’t need the junk anymore.

There have been reports that nutrition education in school doesn’t work. Well, duh. It’s school. Of course kids aren’t going to like it. Don’t call it nutritional education. Call it food play.

Ran around looking for postcards of Point State Park for a QED member who now lives in Florida. He called the station wanting to purchase a photo from the June issue of PITTSBURGH Magazine, but the photo doesn't have any indication of the photographer. Couldn't remember the name of the shop where I had seen lots of Pittsburgh memorabilia, so went out looking for it on my weekend. Bought half dozen postcards for him, and stuck them, and a business card from the place, in a Pittsburgh notecard and mailed it off this afternoon. That's going beyond good customer service.

The morsbag thing is kicking into high gear. Cool. There may even be an actual meet-up to get things moving.

I really don't like grocery shopping. Have to go now to get a few things and I so dread it. I get in there and even when I have a list, I am overwhelmed. Too much temptation for sweets and stuff that's bad for me.

Spent a lot of time this weekend sorting ephemera out and creating some postcards. Now I just need to spend some time on getting stuff ready for the baby shower. I don't like parties.

My calendar is a mess. I always start the year off with full intentions of neatly adding notes and times to my calendar, not scribbling them. And now, half way through the year, my calendar looks like it belongs to someone with advanced Parkinson’s. It only takes seconds to take the calendar off the wall and print neatly. Sigh.

Watching the month crawl by. Waiting for the summer to be over. I want to wear sweaters, stockings, scarf and mittens. I’m tired of all my warm weather clothes.

Longing for dark cool nights, lots of books and glasses of wine.

Things I need to get or make for the baby shower. Markers. Cheese. Chips. Crackers. Guacamole. Tablecloths. Fruit. Bookmarks. Postcards. Gift. BABY paper mache letters. Sharpies to sign letters. Book. Ice tea container. Teabags. Soda. Water. Cookies. More onesies. Another little party favor to go with bookmark and boo-boo bunny. Tags for boo-bunny to explain they are to use when the baby comes to visit. Popcorn idea…popcorn to pop when baby pops. An extra invitation. Game prizes. Frames. Books for Glen to thank her for hosting shower. Flowers for Glen. Something special for Mel.

Baby showers make me so nervous.

I will never be one of those people who read obituaries. I do not understand why people find it so fascinating to find out who died. What a waste of reading time.

Started reading Benedict’s Almost, a book I bought mainly for its cover art. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it because it seems like “women’s literature,” but it is surprising me. So far an interesting read, even though it is very definitely women’s literature.

Gave up on Swanwick’s Bones of the Earth. Good, but more for lovers of time travel. I just can’t get my head around the idea.

She has grown children. She lives with a man she met on the Internet. Books litter her life. Her three younger sisters are mysteries, though she has known them all her life. They all read Tom Robbins, and are particularly fond of Still Life With Woodpecker. There is no real quest in her life, just a need to be useful. But the thought, perhaps even wish, of dying young, or at least young-ish, is never far away. Not even the impending birth of her first grandchild can chase away the idea. So odd, but maybe not really.

Once upon a time I wrote letters. Lots and lots of letters. I still write letters, but I get behind. Not because I don't have time. I do. Just can't think of anything to write. Strange, really. My life is so much more interesting now. I would like to write to me. Odd that I can't seem to compose letters when I have so much to say.

Postcardx.net is always at my fingertips. I get frustrated by the profiles, the oh so pretentious youth. I'm turning into one of those people who thinks young people are a waste of youth.

Started a swap at Swap-Bot featuring 100words.net as the theme. Got twenty-seven participants in 24 hours. Can't help but wonder if they are already participants here, or if they have newly joined because of the swap. There's another month before the swap closes.

No sleep last night. Start to sleep and always the same image in my head. Me tossing a baby off the balcony at my sister's New York City apartment. I could never sleep there because I am always afraid I'll walk in my sleep and jump off the balcony, from the 35th floor. Now this.

Reality hit today. Decided to see how much I spent on postage for July. Came to about $120, just for postage. Figuring that as an average, $1,440 a year on postage. Yikes. That's a lot of stamps. I am not sure this hobby brings me $1,440 worth of enjoyment a year. I'm seriously rethinking my mail habit and perhaps cutting down to just sending to people who always send back, not to all these crazy strangers on Swap-Bot and postcardx.net. Going to buy $50 worth of postage the first of August. When it is gone, I stop mailing stuff.

Half a bushel of basil. Cleaned. Stemmed. Chopped. Processed with olive oil and packed into ice cube trays for freezer storage. Took us two days to get through it all, but it will be worth it this winter when we have cheap pesto.

This CSA thing is working out very well. I pay closer attention to produce now, rarely wasting any of it. In days of old, I'd buy produce and it would sit in the fridge and rot. For some reason I pay more attention to the CSA veggies.

Now we need to get through the flat of blueberries.

I don't deal well with people who are not quick learners. Had to supervise today and when people who have been told over and over how to do something properly still do it wrong, it infuriates me. I will never be a full time supervisor. No patience at all.

Not a drop of wine in the house.

It is said that it takes 30 days to break or make a habit. I don't think 100words is a habit yet, even after 30 days. I will give it a try again next month. See if I am just a slow learner.