I've been so sick.

I think I'm getting better.

I HOPE HOPE HOPE I'm getting better. I feel like I've been in a boxing ring going up against a very nasty, skilled opponent, who kept punching me and punching me and punching me until I collapsed, and eventually I'd get up again, and then get punched out again, repeated over and over and over.

Last night I had the strangest dream that I was at a souvenir shop run by a lawyer. The lawyer sold me a plastic, half-empty bottle of wine. He told me it was very expensive wine, but I was getting it cheap.

I tasted one drop of the wine and was astonished. It tasted fabulous! I don't understand, I said to the lawyer; I hate wine. And just from that one drop I began to feel woozy and drunk.

I stared today out a back window at the eerie auto shop bordering our lawn, where two white dogs used to live, but, it seems, are no longer there. Once the dogs (having escaped from their compound) ran past me on the sidewalk as I took Wild Girl and Beauty Girl out of the car. I froze and waited for them to attack us but instead they scurried past as though we weren't even there.

I'm eating grapes slowly, biting off slivers for Beauty Girl who holds them in her mouth briefly, a thoughtful expression in her eyes, before she chews and swallows. It is fun to watch a baby taste something for the first time. It's so sweet, genuine.

I'm so tired. If I am getting better, the next step is for me to regain all the strength I lost. Maybe I'll have to learn yoga.