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.

 

clear the decks for take off

 

Does anyone else feel the burning need to throw open the windows and gasp for air? 

Fresh clean air?

New beginnings. New directions. 

So much hope.

Have they heard us? 

Can they do what's needed?

Will I ever leave elected officials to their own devices again? 

Not fucking likely.

 

distance learning redux

First thing this morning I had X-rays on my left hand and was given a big fat needle of cortisone and some other stuff in the tendon that is pulled so tight it has a knot in it. It will be a couple weeks before I know if this works. Day surgery is still on the table. Hopefully, by then, I'll have had a COVID vaccination.

Then it was off to Charlie's for distance learning again for the rest of this week. They say until enough staff comes off quarantine. 

The fun comes after classes are over. He's the brightest spot in my day. 

standstills, handholds and launches

 

Just clutching at stuff in the odd moment.  I stitch, then I cut away. Kind of aimless. Swirling. Still, something to hold on to when my mind needs a rest.

This reminds me of the Vigil cloth I did so many years ago for Jim. He's been very present in my thoughts lately. This time, I'm keeping vigil for my country.

I'm still editing my book. The manuscript feels like a plowed field in New England. Every time you turn around, new rocks come out of the furrows. A writer's best friend is an eagle-eyed proofreader. 

The cover designer has returned the first draft and I am joyously stupefied at how he's taken my flaky synopsis and turned it into ART. I wish I could show it but there is much marketing mumbo-jumbo about keeping covers on the down-low. I'm still learning this stuff, which is a lot harder than the actual writing.

If you want to be notified about the progress and when it will ultimately be available (Spring-ish?) email me and I promise to send no garbage. 

I found a small clutch of threads that should have gone into the store. I need some of these colors so the "misplacement" was surely a subconscious thing, Like an alligator lurking in the swamp.

And Happy News. A package that left Massachusetts mid December finally arrived!

The weary travelers, crafted by Dee Mallon,  will get tucked away in the Christmas box for next year. 

(I had to rescue them from Salem. She was going to lick them or eat them. I didn't wait to see which)

sink into this

 

pangs

 First thing this morning, I got my COVID test results back. NEGATIVE. So that's out of the way.  This county is in deep shit according to some counts. Now, I'll start beating the bushes for the vaccine.

Then some quality time writing and interacting with distant friends. Gnashing my teeth over the shitshow in DC and the rest of the country with some. Heart to aching heart with others. 

Then I sat down to watch a Christmas gift to myself, "The Eagles Live at the Forum."  The audio discs on my car stereo system have been underwhelming. I can't tell whether it's the production, the stereo system, or my hearing which is getting worse by the day. Last night at work, I could hear the callers through my dual headset but my own voice sounded deep underwater. 

Colin cued up the DVD for me on the system in the living room and the first song was "Seven Bridges Road".  I was quite overcome and had to stop watching. There were errands to run, a day to get on with.  More about that another time.

Innocence

We were out doing errands. Small stuff: air up a soft tire, the cheap thrill of the rock & roll carwash, a soft pretzel and Gatorade from QT. Then a hour in the sunshine. He hung back from the playground. Only half the handful of kids wore masks. He took refuge in art. 

I was getting alerts on my phone about the riots in DC. When we got home, I put on the TV. 

"Nana, is this a movie?"

I did my best to explain. He was scandalized.

"I thought Warnoff and Ossock won and it was over! I'm so sick of politicals.

Us too, kiddo. 

 

Blue!

 For the first time since moving here in '93, I'm proud to say I'm from Georgia.

wayward thumbs

 

There it is. The offending digit. Why it's on strike is beyond me. Lefty really doesn't do a whole lot beyond. this holding move. There's a bit of space bar action when I'm working or writing, all of which has progressed from annoying to painful. 

Over the weekend it went from bad to worse.  So, 1/18 at 8:45am it's time to see a doc about this hand jive.

time shift

 Everyone seems to be having image trouble.

My problem is not laying my eyes on something that I haven't already taken a picture of. Then there's the whim of my old phone/camera to deal with.

Anyone have an Android phone they love? Which and why? 

(I hate shopping for technology)

I have figured a way around buying DragonSpeak. 

The First

 

The barrage started around 11:30 and didn't let up until sometime after 1 a.m. . I guess the locals have been saving up their fireworks for a while, or their stimulus checks landed in the nick of time.

 The sad part is that there's never anything to see. They're all noise. Granted, the noises got bigger and louder as the evening wore on, but after midnight, I was well past caring.

I started this late in the day on the last day of 2020.  The new year dawned supremely shitty, weatherwise. Cold, rainy, dim. A perfect day to stay in pjs, stitch a bit, then some writing and gab via zoom. 

As fresh as the year is, I'm still waiting. A lot of people are. Waiting for test results. Waiting for the vaccine. Waiting for jobs, food. It's heartbreaking and appalling.

Waiting for the Georgia runoff election. Waiting to see what fresh hell oozes out of the White House. 

So, this. Something to hold onto while we wait.

2020

Many people have been cursing 2020. I won't. It's been a year of terrible truths. 

People are paying attention to things in ways they never did in their whole lives. 

Something good has to come of all of all it. The darkeness cannot stand when so many people of good will see it for what it is. 

 

Eye light

 

This malaise is just enough to annoy, but I'll make another attempt to get tested later today.

A fresh start for the new year crawled out of the river basket this morning but, to slow me down, I washed everything in the sink. Finger-pressed, they'll be better off for the delay. Me too.

My aged phone is beginning to fail. Pictures have been chancey. If a test turns up positive, it's because I went into the phone place to look into a new one. The same day I yelled at the woman for crowding me at the post office, I only gave the stinkeye from across the store to the putz with his mask under his nose while I waited my turn.

The shit that takes up emotional energy these days...

Christmas 2020

 

2020

 I Remember Everything

John Prine

Alright

I've been down this road before
I remember every tree
Every single blade of grass
Holds a special place for me
And I remember every town
And every hotel room
And every song I ever sang
On a guitar out of tune

I remember everything
Things I can't forget
The way you turned and smiled on me
On the night that we first met
And I remember every night
Your ocean eyes of blue
How I miss you in the morning light
Like roses miss the dew

I've been down this road before
Alone as I can be
Careful not to let my past
Go sneaking up on me
Got no future in my happiness
Though regrets are very few
Sometimes a little tenderness
Was the best that I could do

I remember everything
Things I can't forget
Swimming pools of butterflies
That slipped right through the net
And I remember every night
Your ocean eyes of blue
How I miss you in the morning light
Like roses miss the dew

How I miss you in the morning light
Like roses miss the dew

Source: LyricFind

getting real things done

  Thursday I had errands to do. Banking from the car. Picked my time at the post office to buy some stamps only to be crowded by an idiot who I had to bark at a social distance violator - much to the glee of the mail lady who was only minimally protected from a parade of idiots by her plexiglass shield and cloth mask.

There was a short foray into the phone store to see about replacing my aging LG2. Not for a while. I'm not all that impressed with the latest model. I can wait.

 Time was you didn't think about disguises, armor, or weapons. If I'd pulled up to the drive-thru at the bank like this a year ago, who knows what might have happened.  

Sweetie has commandeered one of the fleece lap robes. Cats know what's right and good.

And for all my making ready? Christmas cards, lap desk, pens, and stamps? I still cannot find the little address book that I've been so holy about cultivating all year. With the state of what I'm seeing on the news of Post Office backlogs, y'all may get cards from me by Easter.

.

I picked Charlie up after school on Friday. They wore their PJs to school and watched "The Polar Express" which is the only Christmas movie I could call a favorite. Pretty steeped in Christmas Magic now, he said, "Nana, I bet I know where in the movie you cry."

I assured him, "every time."

   

At my house I let him pick up gifts and weigh them, but refused to reveal anything. Patience will be rewarded.

He spent the rest of the evening writing and illustrating a chapter book and criticizing (but glued to) an inane cartoon show. 

I drank hot tea and dozed as I could, A middle ear infection had its way with me for a day. Slowly on the mend. We forget that we can still come down with things other than the Big C. But, for all concerned, I'll look into a test on Monday.

A (small) blaze of Glory

I've always wanted a fire pit. This cast iron pot hasn't done anything but smell bad since I burned a pot of chili in it over ten years ago. I'm talking incinerated. The lid was on tight and I thought the burner was off. I chipped the charcoal out of it with a chisel but never could get rid of the smell.

Now, it's serving again. There was an incantation.

I need to get a bag of marshmallows to have on standby if someone calls the cops or fire department. I hear they'll give you a pass if you are cooking and not just burning leaves. 

After working on trucks and cars all weekend, the guys took a minute to go find a Christmas tree. It's just big enough.

I'm likely to be wordless here for a while. Putting them elsewhere. Taking a deep breath along with the rest of the country. Tending hearth and home. Celebrating and sharing as I can. Making plans for the future!

Change, as sure as the sun and the tides.