Tell Me the Story

When we went to see the new allergist this week, I reminded Frank to just give him the facts. Don't launch into a long discursive story (as Frank is wont to do). The allergist just wants data.

In contrast, I am loving The Fellowship of the Ring. It is our current bedtime reading. In Tolkien, after the facts have been passed on, someone (be it elf, dwarf, or hobbit) invariably says, now tell us the story.

Full Moon Dreamboard

Every once in a while I put together a dreamboard that completely baffles me. As I'm pulling the images together, I try not to think too much. Today, I chose the images and words, felt my intuition working in the choices and then I stood back and said, huh?

Completely baffled by this one.

So tell me, what do you see?

Friday

I lost yesterday to a migraine. We did things, went to the bookstore and hung out a lot but the whole day was colored by the headache.

I am never so grateful as I am the morning after a migraine when I wake up pain-free.

We spent a good deal of the morning taking photos downtown for Max's architecture project. We played cards and sat on the porch and read.

This afternoon, I sat in the backyard with Max as he cried in frustration because Frank is having another allergic reaction and we are not sure what he's reacting to, (a different kind of yogurt?) and Max is just exhausted from the up and downs of this whole process.

We've declared a moratorium, no talking about skin rashes or food allergies for the next 48 hours.

Wednesday List

• Tonight I tried a new gluten free recipe that everyone liked!
• Caught Max doing Parkour in the grocery store (where they were playing a David Bowie song).
• Wandered around Mission San Jose on a perfect sunny afternoon.
• Watching Glee last night I am happily thrilled at how far pop culture has come in depicting happy, healthy gay relationships.
• I have not done a bit of gardening or yard work so far during Spring Break.
• I'm almost finished with the cuff of this sock I'm knitting for Frank.

Tuesday Morning

We drove to Austin today and the sky put on quite a show.

Monday Morning

Max got a new hammock for Spring Break.

Sunday Late Afternoon

The Opposite of Crafty

I am not at all crafty, but I kind of like the way these coasters turned out.

Spring Break

Our Spring Break begins today.

Living in the Future

Two completely unrelated but totally amazing things:

• Max is using an emulator to play Pokemon Red on our computer - a GameBoy game that was released five years before he was born.

• When Max was born, we were given the option of "banking" his umbilical cord blood or donating it. The argument for banking is that if he got leukemia or some other cancer, these antibody-rich, mixed just for him blood cells would be available. I am a superstitious woman and this seemed to me, at the hormone-drenched time, to be tempting fate. If we put those "what if he gets a life-threatening disease" vibes out there, what would that mean? We donated it instead. Yesterday we got a call from the hospital where Max was born (Hello, Gainesville, Florida!) and Max's chord blood has been matched to a pediatric leukemia patient. The decision we made over ten years ago may help save the life of another child.

As Wil so often says, "I love living in the future!"

Lent

So, Zoot has taken on an inspiring project for Lent (Go read her post here. I'll wait.) and I think I'm going to do something for Lent here on the blog.

The traditional approach to Lent is to give something up or take on a new discipline for the 40 days before Easter. I'm hoping to breathe a little life into my writing discipline (that includes blogging here) which has withered on the vine lately as what I'm going to call my domestic responsibilities have expanded to gobble up every ounce of my free time.

I have been a bit of a dervish intent on whirling and spinning, convinced that constant motion was the only way to keep the ship afloat. Of course, the ship is floating along just fine whether I spin or not.

So, I'm going to stop spinning for Lent and post a little something here for the next 40 days, some words or a photograph, maybe a poem. I'm going to use this space to remind myself to stop the dervish act and sit the hell down for a little while.

You should join me. I'll make tea.