The daily sorting is after the 💖💖💖 and the prompt writing after the 🍦🍦🍦
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Tell me a very short story from the perspective ice cream about to drip from a cone
I dint think I can write about ice cream right now. I’m recovering from a bout of what was likely food poisoning or…I don’t know. So writing about food feels like a “nope” right now.
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Yesterday we opted to get out of the city we are visiting. We randomly chose a small town on a wending river and we t to a creperie there. The breakfast was delicious and I can’t imagine it being the cause of my later discomfort.
We then went to a cafe, and it’s possible that they put milk in my latte instead of oat-milk, and that might have been it…but I think I remembering watching carefully as I always do (because dairy is the go to, and it is often just such a habit)…so it likely wasn’t that.
It’s funny. I guess my partner and I have a look about us (I mean, I KNOW we have a look about us…but I didn’t know that our look said that we like a good cafe…until this past weekend.) Every single person we’ve asked for suggestions about what we should do while we are in Saint John ALL said the same thing. Go to Catapult Coffee.
But we did. And it wasn’t particularly our thing.
…maybe there is only one cafe in Saint John that makes coffee drinks?
Or…maybe we visited the cafe at the end of the day when the staff was very tired? But I didn’t feel a sense of belonging there. Which I think is what I’m looking for when I go into a cafe…like, yes. A caffeinated beverage too. But mostly I’m looking for a place to feel seen for a moment.
…and maybe that’s because I work in a cafe and that’s what I do. I break the fourth wall and am a person being human with another person. And maybe it’s because I live in a shall town with four cafes and in each cafe I feel seen and valued and like a person. And not an irritation or a job.
I’m trying to unpack that.
I know I’m not owed that. I know that a cafe could just be a place for getting a coffee and that’s it. That I’m in someone else’s city. That…not every moment can be a magical human one.
But the fact that we were told over and over to go to this one cafe, and to have it feel like we were in the wrong place…felt odd. Like over and over people were perceiving something in us that wasn’t us.
Like maybe we look like the types who were just looking for coffee and not connection.
Hmmm.
I’m tired. I was ill all last night.
My brain is apparently focusing on the negative.
My partner is ready to shower, and I think I’ll join them and see if that shifts my feelings.
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I’m now post shower, half dressed, and feeling a little better. My partner pointed out that the mocha I had yesterday was made with a milk powder.
Ah there. Mystery solved. I milk poisoned myself!
(I’m usually okay with a mocha, but I guess this one was more milk than chocolate)
I’m still a bit out of sorts. I just need to eat something. (This is the kind of daily sorting that is more for me than for reading)
I’m going to do a round up of beautiful things that *did* happen yesterday so that I can remember them later.
This, I think, was the highlight.
We drove all the way to Fredricton having exhausted the oddities shop options here. (We did see a lot of magical things) to a shop that was called U Beautiful Creature.
At least that’s what it had been called.
We found out from the woman working that the shop had been through several iterations in the past year. That they had just adopted it and renamed it May 1st. And it was full of locally made art and strange things. And we spent about an hour chatting with the wondrous woman, and when accidentally bought a small jingle wand she’d made!
She was so happy we’d found the shop. And we felt like we were meant to be there.
…and those are the moments of connection that make me feel alive. The kind that break the loneliness that sets in thinking that the world is full of people just getting by and through.
I think it’s why I move through the world the way I do, when I’m able and have capacity, because it’s the small moments of kindness that…fuel me? That’s not the right word.
…I’m made of a scattershot of interactions. That all the beauty and joy and humanness, the grief, the real…that’s what keeps me going. It’s why I chose a small town full of creative caring people in which to make my home. It’s why I work at Rosefinch on Mondays. And volunteer at the gallery collective on Tuesdays. Why I play cribbage on Wednesdays, and wander about on Thursdays saying hello.
It’s why being at Curious & Kind brought me so much life, because I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing.
When I was working at the bookstore I felt like I was in the right place.
It’s strange to feel adrift.
I’m so used to having a thing that drives me.
A purpose.
Last night as I was grumpily managing my milk-poisoning symptoms and rolled over to apologize to my partner for cutting our Saturday short.
…and they told me there were no apologies needed. That they were exactly where they wanted to be, and reminded me that we’d had such a wonderful set of adventures, and that snuggling and resting was a wonderful part of those adventures. They rubbed my back, we watched silly tv, and went to bed early.
…and I feel better.
They are done getting ready for the day, our last full day of our anniversary adventure. Tomorrow we drive back to Nova Scotia, pick up our pup and head home to our life…which is pretty magical.
I still have time to sort my next adventure. My partner has reminded me that I don’t have to rush. That stress is what I’m to be avoiding.
That even if I don’t buy this building right now…I do t have to give up on my dream. That if I’m feeling overwhelmed and it doesn’t feel quite right to listen to myself.
That I know.
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Heart,
Wake
You'll know when it's right
glad you're feeling better. damn milk. bleh.