Sproutlings

Oh dear. It's not the best picture and not even in focus but it's what I have. Hank and Jessie and August and I met at the Indian buffet and we ate while August was mostly sleeping and so we sat and talked for forever.
Yes. I do go out to lunch with my kids a lot but it's how we connect, frequently. It's a good thing and we laugh and we talk and we eat mostly delicious foods and now we have that little Gus boy to come along with us and that makes it even better. Tomorrow Owen has a day off of school because it is teacher planning day and Lily has a parent-teacher conference with his beloved teacher at 10:00 and so I'm going to go stay with the boys while that happens and then we're going to Japanica! because Owen hasn't gotten to go on one of our lunch dates in forever, he being a grown-up school kid with a real schedule and all. And then the boys are coming home with me because Mama has to work and Papa doesn't get off until later and besides, they need to come here and play and be with their Mermer because that's the way it should be.
And it makes us all happy.

I've been in a lot of pain today. One of the things we talked about at lunch was how we wished we could transfer our pain to someone else for just a little while. Ten or twenty minutes, maybe, to see what they thought about the pain level. Not necessarily to get sympathy but perhaps to be told, "Oh yeah, that isn't so bad," which could reassure us. Wouldn't it be something if that's how our practitioners diagnosed us? If they could feel what we are feeling and use that to figure out exactly where our pain is? Sure, it's a shamanistic idea or maybe a Star Trek idea but it would be an interesting method of not only diagnosis but also one that might further empathy in a pain-trained doctor. I doubt many would sign up for that particular ability though. I mean, I'm not sure I would.

But anyway, la-di-dah, and here's what I spent at least forty-five minutes on this evening.

Tiny thinnings from the garden which I washed and thumb-nail snipped the roots off of and that will be going into our salad tonight. It delights me that the mustard seedlings already taste like mustard greens, the arugula seedlings already like arugula. This is not unlike a baby's personality which is not completely apparent at birth but a little bit. The sproutling will grow up to be who he or she is at birth, but of course always affected by whatever nurtures or doesn't.

I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I'm tired and as I said, somewhat in pain. It's actually been a terrific day and I'm sure tomorrow will be too and please, please, please dear god and goddess of dreams, give me a fucking break. The physical stuff I can take a few Ibuprofen for. The mental stuff, not so much.

Love...Ms. Moon