January 2000 January 1999 January 1998 Rachel's Daily Diary _________________ Sunday 30 January 2000   6 20 pm pst   [ characteristics ] She would glance at me, start laughing and then type something. "Is this going to be too sickeningly sweet to put in my diary?" I asked. "No, I'll put in the bad stuff to make you happy." "Gee, thanks..." And shortly it was done:

A list of my characteristics, by my mother: loving zest for life has a wide variety of interests (sometimes passionately obsessive) silly & joyous sense of humor sensitive to criticism intellectually curious loves to be right considerate fun to spend time with lover of good food, good movies & good books talented writer powerful need to express herself generally positive outlook strong, but vulnerable

10 40 pm pst   [ my toad ] This month's collab for on display is gates and doorways. One can safely assume that most people went for doors. And there there is the decision to write about physical doors or metaphorical doors. I could stay on my genealogy kick and write about doorways to my past. I could talk about doorways to conflict. I could write about the physical doorways in each of the places I have lived, and my bad habit of leaving doors, drawers, and cupboards open. Or I can return to the gate idea. There is only one gate in my life. There is the gate leading to the backyard at the house of my childhood.

The backyard was a place of magic -- a place to rescue ladybugs from the pool and collect caterpillars from the trees. When I was very young, I would ride my plastic tricycle around the pool. I could walk on the pool cover because I weighed so little. I burried bees that died. I spent hours entertaining myself with a rock. I collected tadpoles and frogs from the nearby creek and populated our garden with them. But there were amphibians already in the neighborhood. There was one large toad who lived in a hole right next to the gate to my backyard. I could hear him at night singing outside my room. He was always there. No one knows when he had shown up and I have no idea when he left. But for years and years my ugly toad was a steadfast gatekeeper. Sometimes I fancy I still hear his song.

two years ago today: "I love that breasts float in water; it feels so different." * * * one year ago today: "He succesfully fought off my roommate's flu, but now I think I am coming down with it." * * * one month ago today: "So let us avoid a discussion of the myriad shades of vibrancy -- too varied for the eye to distinguish. Let us instead turn to colorful language." * * * <   yesterday   |   month   |   tomorrow   > ~   back to Rachel's Daily Diary   ~