nightshade and daylight

An afternoon spent ripping out belladonna and disposing of slugs over the fence with a shovel, noting with satisfaction that the little peas are poking their way through the soil.+ I realize for the first time that my connection to the dirt is somewhat ancestral, being peasant stock on both sides not so far removed.

I hung out with the women in my world yesterday morning, where we drank coffee and swapped the clothes we no longer wear and being small and having never borne children, I end up with a bag full of things I would have never picked out for myself but that somehow work, it's funny how much more comfortable in everything I am now that I'm finally comfortable in my own skin. One of them is moving out of state and her husband gives me a pile of his old records... Talking Heads, Violent Femmes, sundry pub rock and such, some of which I pull for my first time doing a real DJ kind of thing.

I get to the store with a crate full of records and CDs and a mix I compiled from my hard drive as a backup that comes in handy when the one turntable is acting wonky, and I feel like a goddess or a muse up the stairs looking out over the store as the records spin and I finagle with the mixing board, watching people nod their heads and tap their fingers, the kids dancing, I'm yelling down the names of the bands they ask me about as they're treasure hunting through the record bins and rows of 7-inches. The nervousness washes away and the hour goes by too quickly. I could get used to this.