More July & August

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July 23 ::



July 26 ::


July 27 ::






July 28 ::


July 30 ::






August 2 ::
Maria chose a banana and chocolate paleta, when we stopped by Artelexia.

I thought that my quick summation of summer was going to hold, but yesterday, when I awoke to "September," I was stunned. Where did August go? How can we be entering the month of fall, of apples, and fallen leaves, and the actual start of summer? Ugh... this heat!

More August, I say! July, too.

More memories of a full and active month, of our summer days.

And pardon me if I've shared these already. A note about my thoughts and memory... it's still muddley. I still forget people's faces, the order in which events took place, dates, words. It's still a quiet, internal struggle that I try to hide, try to overcome. I am so concerned and supportive of other people's struggles, issues... and always want them to feel safe and comfortable to be open about whatever they are dealing with. To be fair, open, kind, I need to share some grace with me. I need to drop the shame and awkward embarrassment. I can't stop the feeling of discomfort when I don't recognize someone, or can't seamlessly express my thoughts, but I can talk about the issue and let people know about it, and then at least I may show that I am someone that needs help, that struggles, which hopefully clears away some stigma, makes others feel comfortable to do the same.

And Chickenblog helps me... I can refresh my memory, and make note of moments and ideas, events, and faces, and refer to these pages for happy memories, and to jog memories, too.


So, have I blogged about William's tent dream? He's spent years talking about and planning a kind of carnival-circus-caravan tent, something bohemian and pieced together, fanciful, whimsical. Alex helped him design and construct this PVC frame, and we started assembling the collection of old and thrifted sheets we've been amassing. And Max came out as the sun was setting to help William get the big top up. We need to add the skirt to go around, for walls. Alas... this is one more project sitting on the back burner, until our sewing machine is repaired.

Max... from when his Grandma called, and said, "Take his picture, before he turns 21!"

We have a room called The Lab. It is constantly evolving; revolving mostly around the latest interests and activities of Alex, and Max, and Maria and William. Right now it strongly serves games of DnD and Magic the Gathering. This shelf caught my eye, because for a moment it was unfamiliar, and it was like seeing my children, Alex especially, anew. Their books, and Alex's art, the wings he made, the sword William and Alex made, the shoe forms (a nod to their interest in making clothes, and to their great-grandfather, William, the shoe repairman.) Funny that feeling, and helpful... oh, this is them, now. A part of who they are. And it's nice.

August 3 ::
Happy Birthday~





August 4 ::







(September 5...

Send me back to therapy and counseling. Every time there is a hearing, people say, "It's over. You can put it behind you." But it's not over; that's the truth. There is still another hearing. And the civil case. But, I want it to be over, to put it behind me, so I try to do the things I used to do, like writing, and making art, and gardening, and I tried to let go of physical therapy. And I am hurting... the headache, the anxiety and worry, and shaking hands. And shame. I feel embarrassed, like hiding all of this, because I am so tired of struggling, and not being over it. Damn it. Fucking, damn it all to wee;lkfhqnra.vdfjsdtg

I started this post last week. I can't finish it... writing exhausts me, makes my brain feel feeble and scrambled. My neck and shoulders hurt. That fracking headache at the base of my head, vise-like and squeezing out clarity and peace. And then I think quit, retire, let this space take a chance on a quiet exit. But then it would make me sad, then angry, because all of my effort to be a writer, a blogger that makes a difference, a happy chronicler of our lives, would end with essentially "I gave up when a car wreck made it too hard to do this well." Fucking, damn it all to wee;lkfhqnra.vdfjsdtg And even these admissions and public declarations make me wince and cringe in discomfort, but to hell with that... I am trying to salvage my well being, my sense of worth and ability, and if tapping at a key board and putting to words all the dread and discomfort I am living with might do a single bit of good to help me, then so be it... Open, out loud, cringe-worthy confession and wallowing it shall be.)

August 6 ::





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August 26 ::


Almost done. The longest, most rambling, random, and obtuse, yet over-sharing, post ever. That's ok. I feel accomplished... everything has been an uphill push, in the dark, and mud, but I am going to finish this Fucking, damn it all to wee;lkfhqnra.vdfjsdtg post, and win. I don't know what I am winning, but I know I am here. And I will add: Dear Reader, this is what winning looks like. It can be rather pathetic, and meander around, exhibiting frailty, nonsensical behavior, contradictory and paradoxical expressions. No matter, just know that life presents moments we cannot prepare for, and sometimes we get through them without instruction, or rehearsal, and it can look and feel graceless and stupid. Nonetheless, to live, to scream, to cut a line through clay, or read a poem, or smile... this is what winning looks like.

-Natalie, the Chickenblogger
September 5, 2019

August 27 ::



August 29 ::