Your balsamical lips

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If there is a loop, there is only to be inside or outside of it.  Unless, of course, you just find yourself on it, orbiting.

And if there is a loop, perhaps there is more than one.  And some I am inside and some I am outside, and some are carrying me around and around again.

The first week of chemo has left my mother with a headache I find concerning, but otherwise, she’s soldiering on.  It’s like, oh, this is happening.  You have to remind yourself and remind yourself that things are precarious, delicate, on a knife’s edge.  And who wants to make it a priority to recognize the constant danger?  So we did a puzzle for a while and my mother had ice cream and I made bbq chicken sliders from a recipe we’ve all seen on Buzzfeed.

For me, I need to get this house in order and my main opponent is the heat.  It is just impossible to function at 98 degrees.  My sense of distraction, listless boredom is constant.  I know that I need to do 10 kinds of clean-up in here, we’ve got carpet guys coming and I’ve got piles of clothes everywhere mainly because this is the moment I’ve chosen to inventory every single item of clothing I have, and the heat is making this process…molasses at the fastest.

And now, for my little sister’s comfort, I am going over to my parents from Wednesday after writer’s group and staying on there for another week.  To just sit there,  after I work and, I suppose, and ride the loop.  I don’t mind at all, though she just kept saying it was a favor to her. A  favor to her peace of mind as though I wouldn’t be visiting and sitting with my mother, as if I am not good enough to pick up on this on my own.  Not how she meant it, but it is how it arrives at my ears.  Trying to keep those two lines of fact separate in my mind.

Other news, other truths.   Delighted at the news of MST3K getting picked up by Netflix which seems to be the ideal situation for this new iteration to come to life.  I am looking forward to it with the sensation that it can’t be as it was.  It can’t be what it was in my life to me much less what it was to so many others who watched it at such differing stages.  It can only be this brave new thing lifted up by those who know some of the ways for it to fly.

I also just watched a video on the viola which made me nostalgic for odd days gone by.  I’d written a symphony only this morning in Fallen London, so the idea was amusing.  Once, I played the imperfect instrument ever so imperfectly but with a depth of feeling that only such time away could reveal to me.  I wish I could have it in my arms again.

Ditto for you, ditto and ditto and then again, ditto.

The Butterfly

My sister is sleeping and when she wakes up we are going to the Hobbit.  I don’t know if an escape from reality is fair when so many do not find that possible tonight and their realities are so painful.

Obviously, I don’t mean to be coy.  You know about the shooting.  How could you not?  In the impossible case of me being the first person to tell you today, I am sure there are news sources to fill you in on any details you need beyond this.  In Connecticut, there are 20 children dead, 6 teachers dead.  Another killed related to the shooter in some fashion.  All killed by a man whose reasons  or madness cannot persuade me to lose focus on those who matter, those who endured and those who did not.

Such a difference from yesterday’s goofy gallop through PBS cooking shows, I know and yet, I am still quite without ability to say anything important at all.

I woke up this morning, this day of vacation that I had scheduled months ago, feeling as though I was aching and miserable.  I was as gray as the sky out the window, a mass of nerves from not being at work and fearing the worst, at about 7:30am.  About when it was happening in Connecticut, coincidentally.  I flicked through my email on my phone, I flicked through the emails of the ten profligate and mundane suitors and steeled myself to answer a few as sincerely as I might.  But I didn’t see anything then about anything and after stretching my neck and lowering my shoulders out of my ears, convinced myself that the best way to beat the stress was to turn the ring volume off on my phone and go back to sleep.

I woke up at 10:30am, little better than three hours earlier, and took a weird, midday bath, feeling out of it but thinking it was just a matter of my schedule being off, but it was only once I texted my sister about the day’s plans that I realized I had better turn on the news.  I gasped, because what I saw was gasp-worthy, even in this day and age.   And the rest of the day has been spent both being pulled towards and running away from this news story.

I just wish those suffering solace.

Not as a result of today’s news, but simply as a reminder to myself that I need to slowly move towards the beginning of the year’s plans and goals.  The end of December seems to always have this tone.  This sense of a threshhold on the horizon.

Who knows if seeing Bilbo tonight will bring about any sort of intensity toward the march.  I do know there’s all these small pieces of the puzzle that I’m noting.  The trouble at work is one.  The small legion of suitors, soon to be dropping like flies.  The way frozen pizza tastes.  The vision board.    These are all things that I’m aware of.  They’re here and I hope to start pulling it together by New Year’s.

Staying In

Difficult day in some respects.  The sky is the color of the national mood – or at least what I hope is the national mood – gray with grief for the shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords – and not, I pray, red for blood.
The Congresswoman, who we hope survived, and many others including a small child were killed for…what?  Politics? The madman’s single violent expression of his insanity? Every generation feels it’s on the brink of something wholly terrible, for lack of a better phrase, looking at the end times.  I don’t feel that, even in the light of this beyond tragic event, this loss of life and security, that we are collectively standing on the edge of the abyss.  But we are perhaps, orbiting, the black hole above the abyss and if we don’t fight the pull, this is a way we could get pulled in.
On to other topics, I suppose, since I don’t much beyond the news reports readily available to anyone and don’t have much to offer but my continued hope for the families of everyone impacted.
Today, along with being gray and foreshadowy, is a day to be on my own.  I’ve been trying to accomplish a few things on my list.  I’ve done the bulk of my exercise using the WiiActive, but I have a few other calories to burn off to meet the goal.  I’m doing this post, as you see here, I’ve eaten broccoli for heaven’s sake!   Broccoli.  Raw.  If this isn’t an epic show of my good faith and intention, I don’t know what is.   I have read.  I have this snippet of a story going.  I would like some help, but it looks like I might just have to take a nap and get myself going again to work on the cleaning and other organizational things I’d like to do today.  Right now, I feel very slow and still.   I’m eyeing the last sprig/stalk of broccoli and I’m pretty sure that I’m so full on my little lunch that I couldn’t get it down.
But I am considering many things.  We got the invite to our cousin’s wedding in Minneapolis/St. Paul in July.  July is the middle of the year.  It is a big goal, but just to have lost fifteen pounds by then on my small frame would make such a difference in how I experience that event.  How much less it could be about how I look and what I’m wearing and more about being happy to see her and happy to be there and free to enjoy it.  Not perceiving everything through a funhouse mirror, all fragile ego and sugar-spun moods.
Already, on this micro-micro-micro level, I feel change.  I don’t feel like doing this forever is impossible.  I almost like the restriction.  I definitely like the fact that I’m not going to spend $11.33 to have a chicken burrito bowl and chips and will turn into formaldehyde and fat around my midsection.  I like the maybe person that may be.
Back to watching the news.