It’s the next day but it’s limbo time, too early to be the next day and to late to be yesterday. Like this poor blog, half way between bleat and journal. What happened to my ideas and words and detached meditation?

Dunno.

In the meantime, my journal, my diary, mon sembable, ma soeur, has become a menu-planner and endless grocery list. Not very creative but a friend used it recently to check out my blog when I discussed how to use up an overage of ham (there’s always an overage of ham).

When is a blog not a blog?