I am reminded of the gift my mom brought this summer: A tiny T shirt with a festive invitation that says "Party, My Crib, 3a.m.!" Papaya isn't in her crib yet, but she is having a party. Of course it's not quite 3 in the morning, so she must be preparing for the party... you know setting out napkins, chilling the whine. This girl can move. I get something knobby in the right hip bone, at the same time something jabs me in in the left rib. And the butt roles across my belly are quite a sight. Even her hiccups are a visible phenomenon.
Brain stall. I've sat here for five minutes and tried to proofread my paragraph. Thoughts in my head: "Is it a paragraph, or have I changed subjects midway? Is there a point to my statements or do I need to make a concluding sentence? Why isn't there a single comfortable chair in this entire house? Who left the cup on the sofa? What was I doing?" I may be out of bed, and unable to sleep, I may have come downstairs and cleared junk mail from my account, but clearly none of this is evidence of my being awake. My iMac should have one more editing tool: In psychedelic colors, typed phrases could be highlighted signifying "Babbling Fool: Do Not Publish."
Thursday, October 07, 2004
We're going to Nates!
Our annual trip to Bates Nut Farm is in the works. We are going with Holly and Nicholas. The boys are very excited about the prospect of choosing the perfect pumpkins, feeding the goats, seeing the country sights, and the whole Autumn scene.
The mornings have been very foggy, the nights cool, the days breezy. It's comfortable weather and has us in good spirits for the new season. We hope that our colds are the worst we have to endure, so that we can enjoy all future plans without tissues and quarantines. I am especially aware that these shorter days are more than just less hours of sunlight; I need to get some things in order before Papaya arrives. We have ideas, like a pumpkin carving party, and traditions, like making gingerbread houses, and hopes, like having guests for Christmas, and needs, like making space and a place for the baby... lots to accomplish, but days are rolling by. It can take me twenty short of breath minutes just to make my bed, and I once fell asleep between spreading the sheets and laying the quilt (literally.)
Yes, so anyway. Since there are so many responsibilities and important issues to tend to, I am really looking forward to going to Nates!
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
These were on Bullards Beach, in Oregon.
I love texture and color.
I am draggin' my wagon. Is that a good metaphor? I sometimes fancy myself a cowgirl by the sea. Either I am being particularly expressive, or I need to read the possible side effects of the meds I was prescribed.
I'm sick. Moan. Sigh. Sniffle. Cough. Pity me. I still have all my regular complaints to keep me up at night. Still nauseous, still growing unwieldy and unable to find comfortable positions for sleep, or anything. And now I have this cold/flu nasty funk.
Ah... but the ants are disappearing! We made up the recipe that I posted last week, and it is working. There were about three tense days, because as it stated in the article the problem would get worse before it got better, and did it ever get worse. We had huge black swaths of hungry ants feasting at our buffet of sugar and boric acid. They were greedy, with insatiable appetites. This morning there was one ant crossing the kitchen floor. Just one. I squashed him, without ceremony.
Time to drag my wagon upstairs and supervise the children. I fed them. Now I need to teach them something, make them do meaningless tasks, and then nurture their spirits.