It was a short week, with a couple hours at my parents with my sister's family on the fourth and Thursday night in Chapel Hill celebrating my sister in law's birthday. The book reading we attended, from a novel about a woman who was raped and her journey for justice, was not really birthday celebration material. It was good to see a man, in this case an octogenarian retired family doctor, stand up and say this is something men need to work on.
A black friend who attends my California meeting sent a brief email about whiteness. Thinking about how i felt about the novelist -- i tell myself i will speak to my two black colleagues about the violence last week and how wrong it is. What were the things the Latinx LGBTQI communities wanted to hear after Orlando? Can i do that?
Today i went out to the farmer's market near the co-op, stopping to pick up cheese biscuits from Bojangle's for breakfast. After breakfast, i went outside and puttered in the yard, trying to keep to the shade. I discovered that one of the crepe myrtles had some sort of delicate white flower planted underneath it -- sort of like a miniature hyacinth? I weeded all the "grass" and the stilt grass from around the tree, leaving a large patch of moss, the mock strawberry (Duchesnea indica, sigh, nonnative) the lovely little flowers, and some clumps of a rush-like plant.