Craft room

It's Thanksgiving. I've been watching 7:21 creep up. I saw it on the clock radio over an hour ago, since it hasn't been re-set. It's been another day of anxiety, but not all bad. I'm sitting across from my mom in her craft room across the hall from the room that I'm using as a bedroom these days. Jeopardy is on, and the last question was something to do with wine. She's working on scrapbooking-style cards for an event I'm not sure about. I think they're for Cathy. I don't know how driving down to Key West all alone is supposed to help with this weight I've been feeling. Not to keep talking about it, but you know how it goes. I think it's mildly ridiculous how this blog is currently about equal to an anonymous email to a few friends who probably have an rss feed. So here I am talking about feelings in a public forum, saying shit I'd never compose an email about. The whole point of this 7:21 project is to lay down equally spaced bread crumbs that I can follow into my past. It's a positive thought for me that I'm at least going to be putting down some interesting crumbs pretty soon, good or bad. I want to tell about shit that makes me proud. Brag-able stuff. But 7:21 happens every day, and life has very limited hoopla sometimes.