My stomach is in knots. They say the Shock and Awe campaign is about to begin.
I do not relish the mayhem done to people, but I DO definitely want our troops to mess up the Iraqi weapons, all of them down to the last firecracker.
Did you see the pictures of the people near Basra cheering as our troops went through the town? They were saying “Saddam, your days are numbered !” Does this sound like a people afraid of imperial colonialism to you ?
I gotta go now. Back later.
10:29
Stomach still in knots. They are blowing things up in Baghdad. So be it.
I hope they melt down the torture chambers and the prisons where thousands of Iraqis were killed by the Butcher. May the memory of Saddam be wiped out.
And here I am supposedly getting ready for Shabbat. Light the candles at sundown, declare the world in a temporary state of completion. It will be quite a feat today to pull this off. But this is what our Rabbi says has awesome power and far reaching implications. Performing a mitzvah, a good deed, changes ALL the worlds.
This dichotomy is the tension under which we live as human beings in the physical realm. It is no small accomplishment to live in balance, on the narrow bridge that Rabbi Nachman spoke of. That place of knowing that evil exists but so does free will. What an awesome thing God did by giving us this power. The power to do good or to do evil.
Now the philosopher has to go do laundry, plant some more seeds, bake a cake for Shabbat dinner. Is this the narrow bridge? It sure LOOKS narrow here.
11:15 AM
Chocolate cake in the oven. This will be really nice in about 20 minutes when the house starts to smell of baking cake. Made this one from scratch. Will someone please tell me what is the difference between fudge chocolate cake and devil’s food chocolate cake ? I don’t know if it MEANS anything, but I chose the devil’s food recipe from Better Homes and Gardens cookbook today. It felt patriotic. . . .
Hmmmmm, perhaps I should have chosen apple pie.
12:01 pm
Cake baked. House redolent.
Lunch consumed (leftover tomato and potato casserole) and laundry underway, seeds planted. I need some more things to do. My list is finished, I need to consult Louise. What do I do when my list is complete and there is day left over ? Especially a day like today. What I don’t need is time on my hands. I may go straighten up my closet. It is pretty chaotic in there.
Maybe I will put my little desk in there so I can have a real retreat when I am feeling vulnerable. It’s an interesting project idea. It’s Bookworm’s fault, she got me to thinking about it today! It’s as close a thing as I have to a cupboard under the stairs like Harry Potter.
I am beginning to warm up to this idea. Wonder what name we shall give to this psychological coping strategy? War avoidance coping mechanism?
Excuse me, I am going into the closet. . . . .
2:28 pm
(Transcribed from paper journal)
Well, here I am tucked up at my “little desk in the closet”. I have made a newly inked Closet Constitution. One of the articles is that at the little desk in the closet, only the fountain pen will be used for writing. So I carried it (my best fountain pen) in here from it’s former place in the living room and started a fresh journal, only to find that it was out of ink. No problem, I had also brought my trusty bottle of purple Waterman ink. I took my pen apart to refill it and as I was about to do so. . .the nib promptly fell into the half full bottle of ink.
There was a moment of incredulous silence while I considered that this may be a bad omen. But I quickly dismissed it as ridiculous because all the bad omens are busy in Baghdad today. So I stepped into the bathroom which is just one step outside, quite handy don’t you think ? I fished the nib out of the bottle with some difficulty using my tweezers. I filled the pen, this time being VERY careful to see that it was holding together properly. I am now in proper writer’s mode, complete with “secret nook” notebook and ink stained fingers.
The only fly in this inkment is that I have just noticed that this Waterman ink comes from Paris. Since I am VERY put out with the French at the moment, I am tempted to pour it out and go get some American ink which I think resides in my husband’s desk drawer. Although I am not sure he has purple. He’s rather fond of brown ink himself.
It’s cozy in here. I’ve closed the door and can’t hear the war on TV, but I can hear the dryer running because this closet shares a wall with the utility room. Lest you think I am in some large dressing room or something, I have just measured this closet. It is 5.5 ft by 7.5 ft. My desk is in the corner behind the door. There is a nice overhead light in here but I really would rather have a lamp. But alas there is no plug.
This desk is one that has been around most of my life. My mother acquired it when I was very young. It has a drop down front and has had many incarnations. I think it started out painted pink, then yellow, then pea green with “antiquing”. Then my mother decided to strip it down to the bare wood, which is a lovely walnut I think. She stained it and put a clear coat on it.
It’s a lovely little thing and until now it was stuck in a nook in the hallway and was full of miscellaneous junk. I took all the junk out and brought it in here. I feel so much better that I am sitting here writing at it rather than it being neglected another minute in the hall. (Thanks Bookworm, this is all your doing!)
That’s it for now from “The Little Desk in the Closet”
P.S. My closet it clean too !
P.PS. America and her allies are winning the war.
4:02pm
What a strange day it has been, a very strange day indeed.