Saturday rescued

5th Ave at Twilight 1910  LB Harrison

November is the month that Georgia weather can't make up its mind.

Thursday afternoon, I gathered with friends on the clubhouse patio for a small birthday party. Mid-sixties, bright sunshine. We kept looking around going "Wow."

Saturday morning was as rainy, dark and dreary as they come. Days like this always bring back the day Jim died. All too easy to slip into sorrow unless plans are afoot and they were.

Charlie showed up and we spent the morning in the kitchen listening to music, doing Lego, making Rice Krispy treats, working in his scrapbook. He talked. I listened.

Jake arrived midday to collect him and brought in a wet package the postman left on the doorstep. A large box. My sister sent my mother's vast collection of costume jewelry and what-nots. In the box, a small American flag.

Jake unfolded it and held it up and Charlie said, "Oh. I have to do the Pledge!" Jake doffed his cap and I sat, wide-eyed. In a very quiet, solemn voice, Charlie recited the Pledge of Allegiance without a flaw. "...with Liberty and Justice for all."

It was so touching. We applauded and with pride, his father said, "My little American!"

 Please, America. Get your shit together for the sake of these children.

tools

My Goodman

Couldn't let this day slip away without acknowledging that it's been six years since we lost Jimmy.

He was a wonderful father and husband. My very best friend and we all miss him every minute of the day.

What I've missed most about him today was his boundless sense of good humor. I've needed a good laugh and going through the many wonderful photos I have of him was tonic. Nobody made me laugh the way Jimmy did.

Interrogating the baby shower gift.

"This child just loaded his diaper in my ear."

Mugging with Atlanta's Ambassador of Mirth, Baton Bob.

boy with bubble wrap

Saturdays will be ours, now.

Looks like a classic ballet move, right? The camera will fool us all.

This was a post dash across the room, mid-dervish twirl. He spun around in a circle a few times and I howled that he was going to make me throw up! He dashed into the bathroom and came out with a worried look on his face and the trash can.

I made that hat many years ago from sari silk yarn. Just a crocheted cap, but I'd never worked with that fiber before. In its raw state, it's awful. Coarse, tough almost like jute.

 I washed it for some reason and it came out all stretched and soft. I braided and beaded a dozen braids into the crown so they hang down like dreads.

The hem is tight, inflexible and never fit me. A hat without a home has found one nearly thirteen years later.

here's a better look at the headwear. makes me want to buy more of that yarn.

They persist.

They've been up there since All Souls. Something tried to eat some of the carnations but changed their minds.

This morning I realized that I have been sick since then. Some upper respiratory monkey business that is not pneumonia, per the doctor.

She gave me two prescriptions to take "if I felt like it." Nothing indicated the need for antibiotics so those are in the medicine cabinet. After another night of coughing my self awake, I started the methylprednisolone series. Strange shit, but I recalled that when Jim was taking chemo, the doctor said that the prednisone portion of the cocktail would give him a lift. For him, a false sense of well-being that we both basked in as long as it lasted. For me, it feels like rocket fuel when all I want is to get some real rest. I'm committed now, hoping this particular side effect will fade as the dose diminishes.

I'm spending another day with one astonished ear on the impeachment hearings. Ambassador Yovanovitch is a rock wrapped in velvet. She's been asked several times how she feels about the president's attacks on her character and reputation. I keep hoping she'll say, "Consider the source."


And work gets done, too.


"Where are you, babe? The silence that hung between them made him think of how he felt after he prayed—lost, empty and on his own. In the greenish glow of the monitor tracking her inner tides, a tear gathered in the corner of her eye and slipped into her hair. Giving grief its minute, he put his head down beside her open hand and cried, emptying out his heart, making room for fury."