July 9, 2003

Getting better (I think), but still sick.  I might be better and the echo of being really sick hasn't worn off yet, sort of like how after your burn toast or microwave popcorn, even if you take the offending charcoal out of the house, the pungent smell remains.  I'm still really weak and the coughs hurt, but I am better rested. 

Looking at the picture to the left and I see:

"Sssh.  Mom's sick.  You gotta be quiet."

"Why isn't she moving?"

"Too much work."

"Why is she letting the birds eat her food?"

"Because it doesn't taste good to her and she doesn't care if the birds eat the food and it's too much work to shoo them away."

"What about the birds that are eyeballing her toes."

"They may peck her, but that's OK.  It's too much work to kick them away."

"Why is the house so messy?"

"Because she doesn't have energy to move, much less clean the house.  She's trying really hard to wish it clean, but that's too much work too."

"Why is Daddy fussing so much?"

"Because it's extremely inconvenient for Mom to be sick right now and complicates his day immensely.  Her frivolous and selfish coughing keeps him awake at night and he hates the house being so messy.  Her illness benefits him in no way and just irritates him to madness."

"Why aren't we helping her?"

"Because we are thankless, incapable children and it's beyond our means to do so.  We must instead ask her for things and poke at her and put baby powder and orange juice in the blender, take it to the family room, turn it on and dance in the carnage."

"Word.  Let's get on it.  We have wasted much time while watching her."

Since thinking deep or even remotely entertaining thoughts isn't evidently on the agenda today, I figure I'll just amuse you with pictures:


This is Dylan with his Hulk Hands.  David, guy in the background and #2 son, bought them for Dylan, #4 son, for his 6th birthday this past weekend.  Dylan's assessment, after watching a video of the Bill Bixby version of the hulk, was "The Hulk gets mad, then gets sweaty, then he turns into The Hulk." 

This is Nathan's latest run of "stealing Mom's camera and doing self-portraits."


These are two lovely things that were gifts from my son, Josh, who understands that Mommy likes pressies.  All four of my older kids (including my daughter-in-law, Sandra) know that I love goodies.  :)  It's odd, because for the first part of my life, like 40+ years, I didn't really inspire presents in people.  It just never happened that much.  I don't know when or how the tide turned, but I've been blessed with the most wonderful surprises in the past year of my life. This one came today from my friend, Leslie, who came by to check on me: 

The top is a moonstone and the bottom, blue section is a lapis.  It's a really, really lovely pendant.  It looks like a little person... a whole and happy little person with a southern accent.  I was telling Leslie that I think I had to get sick down into my bones and lose my voice in order to get back my "voice" that I'm trying to reclaim.  God, I wish I could talk to my mother.  I always went straight back into my normal speak after I talked to her.  I've been trying to close my eyes and remember exactly what her voice sounded like and it's hard.  I wish I'd recorded her speaking at some time.  I never once considered how precious just the sound of her voice would be after she was gone.  I wish I'd recorded her saying that she loved me.  God, I miss her. Sometimes, it just doesn't seem like it's ever going to get any better.  Sometimes, I think I'm getting over the grief hump and something will blindside me so hard it takes my breath away.  Everything from missing her so much I can't breathe to the lost time to the chances I'll never get back to the evidence of my own past 40 mortality to the fragility of life... There's so much about this that trips me up that sometimes it feels like I'm going to choke on it.  There's just too much to process.  God, was it just January?  It feels like she's been gone forever. 

Anyway, it's back to watching the birds eat my food.  Hope you have a glorious day *hack*cough*moan*.

Oh Jeez.  Thank you for the smile, Sherry Mercurio!  http://www.thesun.co.uk//article/0,,2-2003310256,00.html   The mathematical proportions are mind boggling.  As Georgia pointed out, 2" on a 12" Hulk is 12" on a 6' man.  I'll be in my room if anyone needs me.

Additionally, a wonderful web friend of mine sent me this:  http://ya-ya.com/welcome.htm  What a glorious site!  God, I love Vivi-speak!!  Can't WAIT to get Little Altars in the mail!