Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Part Of It All

Another day of cold and drizzle and my hips ache like hell and so does my wrist and I just want to stay in and cocoon on the couch or on the bed and read but again, that is not my way and so I've eaten some sort of ancient grain granola and raisins and coconut milk and taken Ibuprofen and am waiting for some relief. All night I woke myself up, rocking these aged, aching hips in small cat motions, trying to rearrange the arm I broke the wrist of when I was seventeen to relieve the numbness and fiery needles shooting through my hand. Dream snippets of asking Phillip Seymour Hoffman to come and eat with our family, discovering that I'd posted a blog post entirely sideways, pictures and text, baby chickens drowned and swollen, telling my mother that really, go away, you're dead.

None of it quite as bad as it sounds. The one about the sideways blog post bothered me the most because even as I dreamed of the other things, I knew I was dreaming so it was okay. And Phillip Seymour Hoffman was as charming as could be.

No, this is not going to become My Awesome Dream Journal blog.

I think.

Even in the drizzle the blackbirds sing their rusty song and Elvis crows to be let out. I have to go to the store, I have more cleaning to do. The baby chicks' bedding needs changing. There is laundry. Always laundry, just as there are always going to be these days, wherein movement must be forced, wherein inertia must be overcome, wherein one must plug in the fancy lights and light the candles because the sun is hidden, wherein one must give thanks for the fact that there are lights, there is Ibuprofen, there is a washing machine, there is Goodwill cashmere to soften the cold, there are birds both wild and domestic who sing their own songs despite the weather, reminding us that life goes on, goes on, goes on and tasks must be attended to and spring is proceeding as it should and as it will, within us and without us and there is great comfort in all of that.


  1. A sideways blog would be interesting. How would one do that? Or maybe we could write one in Travoltaism. So much to ponder with the men and women sluts on Southern Charm and the terrible faces at the Academy Awards. Phillip Seymour Hoffman would be a breath of fresh air in the midst of the buffoons. Maybe he simply was too good to last.

  2. Your writing is like music, like your colored lights warming a room on a blustery day, and i am glad to take a break from my tasks and rest for a moment in your river of sound and light. Hugs.

  3. Sideways because you were lying down maybe? Pain when you're trying to sleep truly sucks.

  4. Okay, very boring comment, but: those foam mattress toppers work very well for the sore hip thing.

  5. Syd- I have no idea how you'd do it but it looked wrong. You might be write about PSH.

    Angella- I would always want to bring you a moment of light and love. Always.

    Bob- Now there's a thought...
    Pain does suck. Period.

    A- I think my whole bed is memory foam. So much of my pain has been better since we started using it. I don't know what last night was all about. Maybe this rain that came in.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.