Spring will be here soon. I can feel the life waiting in the trees and the ground waiting to come out. I cut some daphne buds from the bush by the front door and brought them in to bloom. They've been getting a little bigger each day, but I'm almost reluctant to see them flower. It's like that poem "Waiting for the Barbarians." Only instead of looking forward to what was supposed to be a horrible event, I'm resisting what is usually a happy event. There's not much to like about February, but somehow this year I'm not quite ready to move on to spring. For some reason I'm clinging on to this season of death, dormancy...like a pregnant woman who's not ready to give birth.

Saturday night my parents went to a Mardi Gras party. Dad and I stopped by Party City to get him a costume. We ended up buying a long grey and black wig, just the color of his hair and beard. He wore his painting jeans and the tie-dyed teeshirt we made him and got some Grateful Dead fake tatoos. It looked great. The next morning he put the wig on again and went into my sister's room and leaned over her until she woke up. The ensuing shriek woke me up.

In Spanish class we're forming a tuna. It's this traditional Spanish musical group made of college students who sing songs and dance and wave tamborines and pass the hat. Erin was teaching the boys to sing (they only volunteered so they would get extra credit, and most aren't too enthusiastic) and I helped organize the sewing of rosettes to put on their costumes. It was fun.

Then I was washing the cars, which was fun. When I was done with the water, I swung the bucket around to pour it out on the driveway. I realized I was making a circle, so I finished it. I stood in the circle of wet stones for a while. It was a neat little bit of ritual in an otherwise mundane day. I like circles. I like ritual. I've decided I would make an excellent Catholic if it weren't for the religion part.

March 22