Fauci's Ouchy -updated

 Every time I read or hear that, I laugh. The shot itself was tiny. A midge.  No turkey-basting needles needed. I fell into the well-oiled machinery of the county health department setup in an empty school. 

I brought stitching, but left it in the car. Just as well. I was distracted. People everywhere. Socially distanced, but there. 

On drive home my thighs started bothering me as if I'd been on the road for four hours. On real road trips, it's my signal to stop. Walk around, stretch, pee, have a snack and some water. The discomfort usually retreats. Not this time. I carried on with a busy day. By bedtime I was exhausted but unable to find a pain-free position to fall asleep. I rolled around like one of those forlorn hotdogs on the QT grill. Awake most of the night, led to the next day of more if the same plus a headache. That was the worst of it, all worth it for any measure of piece of mind.

My phone's camera is going out with panache. I have no idea what this is. Some internal self-examination?

Very Important addendum. As Grace so wonderfully described, beyond the aches there was a sensation of aliveness, as if my whole body was responding valiantly to a Call to Arms. She has a gloriously triumphant mantis. My inner warriors resemble Apis, the fearsome bull-headed Egyptian god complete with medieval broad and short swords. They take no prisoners.

For fun, if you can find it from 2001, go watch Osmosis Jones. 

Won't throw away my shot!

 Prepping to get my first vaccination. It's a nice long ride and a pretty day. Taking something to spend time with, but don't anticipate long lines. 

What is stranger than going for a purposeful long drive is the frame of mind I'm left in after a long day of focusing on Writing. Getting words on the page. Finding equal footing for each character. 

Addendum.
The shot was a piece of cake. Left my stitch bag in the car and was bored in the post-vac observation "lounge" which really could have used a bar and a piano player.

+2 hours. My lower back, ass, and
 legs ache. Two ibuprofen and back in the car, heated seat on high.

+20 hours. Mild headache, jacked-up tinnitus and the same body aches. I feel post rock concert but there was no show. This too shall pass. General Tso is on the way!

Working in the word yard

 Conducted a little experiment last night. Something along the lines of "write drunk, edit sober"

I'm still analyzing the results. I'd written four pages of a romantic short story (a first for me) a day ago. It was a mess. Lots of nuggets, but in deep shit. 

Last night I altered my chemistry significantly and had another run at the task. 

My usually spazzy scribbling became scrupulously semi-Palmer. The Lizard brain never forgets! The mechanical act of writing was entrancing. The results remind me of how we used to write in seventh grade, changing colored ballpoint pens every other line. Pink, light blue, apple green, and purple, flourishes abounding. 

Once I got over the sillys, I wrote four pages of dialogue without any tags. It has a Moonlighting feel, with all the tension and teasing. A phone conversation stemming from a wrong number. 

Ever do that? They sure did. 

Now I have to sit with these pages, shuffle the deck and see what blooms. 

not 'playing' school

 

There was an unscripted homeschool day this week. It was supposed to be a distance learning day with the laptop connected to the teacher and his classmates, but something went wrong with the connection and we were on our own.

Over the course of the day, I believe he got more actual instruction than a whole week of laptop learning with its interminable delays, glitching, and the need to accommodate, one by one, a dozen or more other first graders.

A discussion about Harriet Tubman's likeness proposed for twenty-dollar bills lead to frank discussions about Andrew Jackson, the First People (of this entire continent) and closer to home, the Trail of Tears and yes, old people and babies died. Tears of grief.  Tough, but necessary lessons for a six-year-old. All of the truths. 

The anole above shocked both of us skittering around the kitchen floor. Once I captured it, we got a good close look, then let it outside where it belonged just as the sun warmed the back patio. Then some time looking them up on the web getting some details. Reptiles vs. Amphibians. Habitat and habits. The fun science stuff. 

There was reading, writing, math practice. Numbers of things as quantities and values are becoming clear beyond the (forced, in my opinion) mechanics of arithmetic. 

There were no frustrations, tears, or temper tantrums. All in all a good day. With a little bit of prep, I could do this for him all day, every day and we'd both be better off.

Detailed drawings came with a running monologue. I should have recorded them. 

rain song grace

Every once in a while my phone will deliver the perfect set of music for the moment. 

I didn't plan on taking a lot of time in the stitching chair today. Setting a timer for activities is a New Thing, but when Bailey stayed stretched across my lap for more than sixty seconds, I had to let sleeping cats lay.

I'd just finished working on a place in this piece that was annoying close to the point of coming under the scissors. Been pretty hasty with them recently. That expression "I'll cut a bitch" suits me perfectly. 

But today, the choosing of threads was more deliberate, the stitching slower. Contemplative rather than frantic. The passage smoothed out nicely. I wrapped up a few lines and knots careful not to disturb him while Led Zeppelin's "Rain Song" rolled out of the speaker like oil on troubled water. 

Relief.

I sure don't own this and I'm deeply grateful they made it.