tara, tara, awoken from her winter slumber. indeed probably taking off the carhartt layers now, the outher layer with the tar and paint and grime, the warm cozy inner layers to ward off the cold seeping through scaranno's shipyard. but no more. now little tara legs and arms are peeping out, and maybe her heart even is back, for the sharing. this tara girl has one of the warmest squishy middle heart places i have ever seen, and i am glad to see that it is budding, like the plants in the hummus container, after a long winter. although it was a pretty cozy winter, and cozy in such a delicious way... at times. (smile, laugh, remember how it was cold, but really nice to have friends as great as you)

i think you know where your heart leads you... it's just the path needs maintenance, the signs are long dislodged, the wind has blown down certain trees, and maybe some of the wetlands are flooded in the spring. but it's okay, because the one's that love you carry hammers, build boats, maintain trails, harness the wind with sails, and are up for adventures of all kinds.

i'm glad to see you out and about, so to speak, hope jersey is delightful.

Jersey.

A blur of scrummie homey warmth and goodness. A bit of sewing, seeing the tulips blooming whose bulbs I tucked into the earth for thier long winter's nap and Jackson Abernathy von Squirrelchaser, hanging clothes on the line to dry in the warm breezes, the I Love God thrifty store having a 50% off sale, buying not one but two new bras, momma and pappa Roesberg just some of the things that fill my soul with light. But the pinnacle, the moment that reminded me who I am came around midnight between the 15th and 16th.

Driving south on the GSP I exited at mile 36. Road giddiness got a hold of me, I drove right past the turn of for the Roesberg homestead, across the Margate bridge and parked at the water's edge, alongside Lucy the Elephant. (If you bother to pay the toll on the Margate Bridge you'll egt your money's worth by visiting Lucy.) Lucy, momentarily bypassed for the Atlantic, kept watch as I ran the length of the dry sands to wet my soles in the Ocean. I whooped, I hollered, I squealed with delight! I was home. The moon was in the early stages of waning, still bright and heavy. I found the Lion, my new enchanter in the sky, when Gregory pointed out an old favorite low to the sea, Corvus.

Fantastic.

Getting a lesson on an actual stripper pole was pretty good too.

She was lovely, my teacher, with long straight hair, little glasses and a beaming smile, a right nice Jewish girl. There were 2 poles and she wiped them down with alcohol for us. She considered herself too old to dance for money these days, only in her early thirties, which seems to me dreadly unfortunate as her chops on the pole seemed to me in full bloom, and she still sports her calluses. She moved with strength, grace and tantillizing slowness, showing off her well-honed craft. Obviously loving what she could make her body do with this lone shaft of metal. My akward attempts to imitate her movements were laughable in comparison, but hot damn it was fun! Now I just need to get my own to practice with, and yes, I really do think the mast is just too big for that sort of thing.

Indeed.

come home. your tax refund is here.