I get distracted when I start reading something written with a strong voice. As soon as I have started listening to someone else’s voice tell their story I am bothered by my own story trying to tell itself in their voice.

Some days when I wake up it is like this: My room is dark. There are only two small windows shaded by pine trees in the backyard. So it is not generally the light that wakes me up, but the squawking of my three chickens that live just outside my window, in a run that my ex and I built over three days, doing our best to make a secure and safe home for them. When we brought them home they were so small and made very tiny sounds. I often wondered when the chirping turned into squawking, but we were away for three weeks last summer, and when we came back their voices had changed. I wish I had been around to hear their voices breaking like teenagers.

I have begun to tell the differences between each chicken’s voice, although in the morning when they begin fussing, I don’t care who it is. I get out of bed, avoiding hitting my head on the loft that the bed is under. I slip on my old leather boat shoes, and put on my black silk robe with the tear down the thigh, tying the sash as I walk the two steps up to my bedroom door. I greet the chickens with a high voice, open their food bin, and scoop out grain for them. They quiet down then.

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Hey, let’s have a delayed conversation.

I’m puttin up “sheers” today, german ones from Oma. Halfway to living room privacy. I often complain about being able to see everyone’s business in Portland, where everyone has big front windows and rarely any curtains.

I will also mow my lawn hopefully. And apply to a bunch of stupid jobs, selected from craigslist simply because they do not say things like HVAC, graveyard shift, or maintenance technician.

Two possible plans that may happen at the same time: school to become a certified nail technician/ working up my portfolio and applying to the certificate program at ICP and a return to Brooklyn so I can do that and Berlin can get his masters in Food Studies at NYU.

Also, goddess bless food stamps, sunny Portland days, my chickens, my dog, my funny shirtless boyfriend, the smell of fresh ground coffee. What have YOU been up to?