First, the zine is coming together marvelously. Among other things, there is poetry. Such lovely poetry. My submission deadline has extended to “please get it to me before I go running this afternoon.” Or, really, early evening, central time. I’m a terrible procrastinator–and so are some of you. There are, by the way, illustrations. Which are terribly hand-drawn by yours truly. I’m really going for the whole homemade circa 1992 vibe here. There’s visible scotch tape. It’s amaaaazing.

Email to express your desire for a copy or to get that submission in. Or facebook me. Or send it to my personal email. That is, if you’re someone I know who has access to either of the latter.

I’m wearing an ankle length hippy skirt today. It’s lace and, despite a doubled lining, a bit sheer. I don’t wear it all that often, because it’s not not particularly my style. But it’s extremely light and airy on a July day, so I threw it on this morning. An eighty-year-old lady here this morning for a prayer meeting whispered in my ear that she could see straight through my skirt. But don’t worry. You have the legs for it, honey. Flaunt it! Flaunt it!

I don’t have the legs for it. I usually wear this skirt with leggings or, you know, something other than appropriately colored boyshorts under it. But I do find it hilarious when elderly women encourage me to slut it up, clothingwise.

This is actually the second time that’s happened in twenty four hours. Yesterday I was visiting an elderly cousin. She’s nearly blind, but she told me that she liked my dress. Actually, it was another long skirt and a tank. Like I said, she’s nearly blind. But, she said, I think it’d be prettier with a bit more decolletage. You’re young. You may as well.

I should add that my cousin is the widow of a Baptist minister and that the other woman is the wife of a retired Our Kind of Protestant minister. They both spent fifty years or so apiece playing the organ on Sunday mornings.