Craig begins the week: he believes tarot cards? well, he believes chaos theory, he believes systems can organize themselves when smaller parts interact, he’s risking serious woo here, but sure, why not?
Rose’s dog is well-behaved, trustworthy, doesn’t even bark. Rose’s dog was not always this way. Once Rose’s dog was a puppy who drove her to the point of sitting on the kitchen floor and crying.
Jennifer has chronic pain and got herself off opoids, using an iffy plant/chemical/drug called Kratom. She likes it, finds lots of arguments against it, and that would be ok, if they’d just do rigorous tests of the stuff.
Sadly, Ursula LeGuin has died. Michelle remembers her voice and her connection with another great lady of the Pacific Northwest, Mount St. Helens. LeGuin could see it out her kitchen window.
Craig ends the week too, this time out in the desert near an old uranium mine, picking up a little olivella shell, whose travels he traces back through the Southwest to its birthplace in the Sea of Cortez.
Ed. note: Is spring ever going to come? No?
Ann, thanks for using that image. Some days the universe looks like that. Some days, it looks like the inside of an old greasy Brillo pad. Woo on!