A huge cedar log crackles in the fire place.

A huge steel pan of lamb ribs fries on the stove, smothered in black pepper, salt and garlic.

It smells like incense, Stonehenge,  Chaco Canyon and the Cosmos in here.

This load of fire wood is too pretty to burn. It's fres red cedar: vanilla pudding on the outside and strawberry ceam on the inside. The grain waves and swirls. It's magnificent. As I gather it each day, I sort the ones I can carve. I'm studying cedar carving on line. Next month, I'll buy the tools.

I fixed the toilet vale today so water doesn't run from it. Slowly, I'm going through all the plumbing fixtures. I've gotten the kitchen & both bathroom sinks to work now. I can do laundry without gathering water to fill the tub now.

Soon, I'll stop all the leaks under the house. Right now, I'm letting that run into a space I'm hoeing out for a garden bed, to be framed in rotting railroad ties, fence posts, old pallats and rabbit fencing. Wet ground makes post pounding easier, shoveling, too.

It's very cold out. I think it's the last snow before spring. I see veils of it over the Sandia Mountains, which wear cumulous wigs. M dog shivers on the bed, too interested in my chocolate chip cookies to burrow under the covers.

I'm withdrawing into myself. Haven't had the luxury of that in a very long time.  I need to heal. No distractions. I can't even bring myself to check my voicemail; haven't since Friday.

People have bruised me and made me sick, over and over, for months now.

I need the silence of my own sanity, perspective, values, ideas. I enjoy my own company.

I feel tingles, thrills and throbs of my body, which seems to thinkit is time for us to seek out a sexual partner. I fantasize. I let her feel, let her remember.  I find myself moving more gracefully. I catch a knowing smile as I pass my reflection.

The lamb tastes ike altar candles and I purse the slippery fat between my lips.

I'm in a hightened state of awareness, now that my eroticism has returned. It's good to feel so good.