the habit of being

He brought home Italian soup and gingerbread, and the pizza place was already closed. We didn’t watch a movie because he had to go in to work at 8 this morning. Now it is almost 9 this morning, and I just ate three calcium supplements in a row. There goes the forth. It’s not candy, he says. Yes it is, I say.

This weekend there is the Whole Foods Chirstmas Party, which he thinks we should go to because it would be something to do. I am reminded of the Tranquil Space party, which I got dressed up for and didn’t go to because it was cold outside and he wasn’t in a good mood. We walked to Safeway and I bought $58 worth of groceries. Most of it was gone when I came home from Georgia, where my mother never made me that soup I like, but I had two Ritz Carlton shrimp coctails. Starts with “sh..” ends with “ocktail,” I said, when Ray asked me what I wanted, and then we were all “sh’ocktailing” for the rest of the trip.

Ray asked me if James had ever hit me and I lied. My twelve year old brother said it’d make Christmas for him if he could just have one punch. The trip was okay though, for the most part. I made a gingerbread house. People gave me money.