This movie set in my mind seeds which sprouted early, forcing me out of bed with their growth speed. I jotted down a poem, then checked e-mail. I followed a link, which eventually lead me to this quote:

"I think it's hard for women to recognize that we have power. First you have to see it, then you have to use it."

Mildred Jeffery, MS. July/August 1994

Earlier this morning, I dipped into the well within, and this is what came up:

Is it overarching and pretentious? If so, I don't give a damn!

I cried buckets. I'm still some blue by it. Laura is getting her mind off it by working on her cartoons. I sat there in the chair, watching her draw. I liked the way the light illuminating her page was reflected by the glass table she uses. "This might make a nice picture."

The cartoonist at work.

The day had begun with activity. I rose and went directly to the sewing machine, where lay a drawer of bills I'd not finished paying yesterday. Pen in hand, fingers stiff at first, I carefully decided how much to allot to each bill, and the stack of sealed envelopes grew higher.

Then onto deciding what to eat for breakfast. Searching the cupboards, I found one bagel remaining, unclaimed. It was so good toasted, crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, with the whipped cream cheese.

Laura took Shayna to a job interview, and the dog and I were alone. I settled into the tub for a serious scrub. No time to soak, though, so I dried and dressed.

A lightweight denim pair of shorts just needed topstitching at the sides and closing of the waistband and hems to finish them. White thread was on the overcast machine, so I selected an ivory jacket with a capelike lacy collar. It needed its shoulders and sides taken in. I opened the curved princess seaming in the back, laying it flat as I adjusted the center section side over the end side pieces. Then the back would lay flat on her. Cutting away the shoulder excess, seaming in the main side seams, fitting the sleeve back in, adjusting the princess seaming at the bodice, narrowing the lower part of the sleeve, reshaping shoulder pads, and tacking them in, the jacket would now fit the lady.

Break for lunch, and I was back at the fray. Next awaited brown and tan tweed fabric to be made into covers for the arms of chairs. Measuring the sample, I learned one piece was 5 x 5 1/2 inches, and the larger piece was 15 x 15 inches. I got six sets from the fabric. It had a nap, so I carefully stroked the pieces so they would all align the same way. I thought the chair sitter would like to stroke the arms going outward and find a soft touch.

Those all assembled, I called the customer. I should have done the brown pants next. They were more urgent. But as I'd explained to the customer, I wasn't sure I could save them after what the previous seamstress had done to them. The possibly hopeless things could wait until tomorrow.

The teal formal dress, although not due for some time, looked more intriguing. It was too tight in the bustline on the lady who was to be a bridesmaid. With seven seams, including the one with zipper, let out, it might just ease right around the lady without squashing her feminine curves.

That problem solved, I called it a day, and joined Laura and Shayna in the living room. Things look positive with the interview. She'll learn the results soon.

A wee bit of surfing, then I turned the computer over to Julia. Laura and I settled in to watch Shadrach. Set in 1935, it was about a ninety-nine year old black man who had walked all the way to the plantation farm of his youth, to ask of the people an unusual request. He wanted to be buried there. The land had a section set aside for gravesites of slaves. The headstones were crammed so close, the bodies must have been buried 'shoulder to shoulder'. Yet, in the current day and age, adding one more was illegal. The movie captured the events so well, it felt like a true story. However I wonder if the original author would have had the father of the family that had inherited the former plantation lands cuss so much. Mr Dabney swore constantly. People in 1935, even poor, uncultured people, did not swear with each sentence. This bad habit of Hollywood should be restrained. Even Laura thought it distracting.

While out grocery shopping today, Laura grabbed the latest National Enquirer and brought it home. The cover intrigued with an article about the two Colorado school assassins. Big block letters announced KILLERS' DIARY. The two perpetrators both had on-line diaries! Excerpts were quoted:

"My belief is that if I say something, it goes. I am the law, if you don't like it, you die. If I don't like you or I don't like what you want me to do, you die. If I do something incorrect . . . you die. Dead people can't do many things, like argue, whine, bitch, complain, narc, rat out, criticize or even fucking talk.

So that's the only way to solve arguments with all you fucking heads out there. I just kill! God, I can't wait till I kill you people . . . I don't care if I live or die in the shootout, all I want to do is kill and injure as many of you pricks as I can."