medial // caesura

Day 5 of being in bed with Influenza Type A: "Hurry always empties a soul."  ( one thousand gifts p. 67)  I told a friend last week that I needed a break.  Funny how you have to be careful what you wish for.  We spent the week in Alabama visiting my parents and had a really good visit, except D became sick with what I thought was just fever and a runny nose.  That is, until it hit me.  I don't remember ever feeling this bad for so long.  Once again, I've had a lesson in empathy.  When I lost my voice last year for six weeks, I got a taste of how challenging it is for D to not be able to communicate.  When I hurt my leg and had to be wheeled around in a wheelchair at the Christmas in the Oaks Run this Christmas, I got a small taste of how it feels to be at the mercy of who is pushing the chair and to not be able to see over the heads of the crowd.  And now, I see that when D squints his eyes, crinkles his forehead, and rubs his head, it is because his head hurts so

Rules: You must post these rules. Each person must post 11 things about themselves on their blog. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, and create 11 new questions for the people you tag to answer. You have to choose 11 people to tag and link them on the post. (I've only six friends with blogs that I know of and who haven't already been tagged.) Go to their page and tell them you have linked him or her. No tag backs. No stuff in the tagging section about ‘you are tagged if you are reading this.’ You legitimately have to tag 11 people. Shawna ,  Blair ,  Beverly , Alexandra , Juelie , Tiffany   11 things about me: 1.  When I put my feet together, my big toes don't touch. It was probably from taking Pointe too early.  Now my mama calls me "V-toe." 2.  One of my favorite times of day is when I just awake, am still lying in the bed, listening to my family's early morning stirrings. 3. Nothing dampens my spirits more than a colo

In "the fullness of time," the influx of influences climb to a trifling pitch. A smocked blindfold covered the stillborn ideas quashed by forceps trembling spoons chiming. . . but for Whom?   (Written in response to rosemarymint's Monday Melting's word list:  fullness, influx, trifling, smock, blindfold, stillborn,quash, chime, spoon, tremble  and linked up to OpenLinkNight at dverse poetry site)

who said yesterday's post made her sad: Here's D's haircut:  one thousand gifts #36:  barbers/hairstylists who make haircuts special for D I hugged Ben as I helped him out of the van today and whispered I love you in his ear.  He responded with a kiss on my cheek and a smile, "I know.  You always love me."  one thousand gifts #36:  Ben's little arms around my neck, a kiss on the cheek, and a child who knows he's loved After playing with clay yesterday and praising the clay figures crafted by my youngest boys, Knox beamed and said, "This is the best day EVER!"  one thousand gifts #37:  joy in creating Today we planted a seedling in the front yard.  When I told the boys, how proud I was of them.  Knox tackled me with a hug.  one thousand gifts #38:  being knocked over by affection D helped me prepare for Kindermusik today and loved every minute of it.  one thousand gifts #39:  the light and joy music brings  I

Funny how yesterday morning everything seemed golden, blessings everywhere I looked.  Then the afternoon. . .nothing especially bad, nothing really good, just the quotidian, the ordinary stuff.  But it was too much.  My eyes glazed over--I lost the ability to see the joys, the God-gifts. All I could see was a house that needed cleaning, clothes that needed washing, food that needed cooking, and children that needed attention.  D was lethargic, rubbing his head like he does when he is in pain.  He didn't eat much after-school snack either.  His balance was off--several times when he did get up he nearly fell down the stairs, or in the garage, or walking in the yard.  He couldn't tell me what was wrong.  I took him to get his haircut (one of his MOST favorite things in the whole world to do) to get ready for inspection Thursday and that cheered him momentarily. After supper, I bathed him because he had had an accident.  I was heading toward self-pity, "the dark side"

When your eyes are opened to blessings, you see more than you can count. Today when I woke up, I was not exhausted.  For the first time in a long time, I felt rested ( one thousand gifts #28: waking at 5:50 AM rested).  D communicated that he needed a bath and then stayed on the toilet to use it (one thousand gifts #29:  D's successful toileting and communication)  As I was changing his sheets, Ben and Knox were just waking.  I overheard them playing a game of "Guess Who."  Ben guessed crab, but Knox said that it didn't swim.  To which Ben replied, "Oh yes, Knox, Mommy said one time that crabs swim, but then she said it was more like walking on the ocean bottom."  (one thousand gifts #30:  Conversation overheard) As I was backing out of the driveway to take them to school, I saw blue sky through the side rear windows. (one thousand gifts #31: crayon scribblings on the windows in the van's backseat).  As I drive, I am thinking about Ben giving Stan h

Her most famous quotation, "Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose" from her poem "Sacred Emily" always makes me think of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet , "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."   For Stein, the name is it; it evokes imagery and realities that are that word; because of what the word has meant, continues to mean, it encapsulates that thing/concept.  In the play, names don't signify reality, but are technicalities to be overcome. Stein's other famous quotation: "To write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write is to write[,]" makes me weary.  A sweet friend called me a writer yesterday when introducing me to someone else.  I've never called myself that.  I write, but I don't "write is to write" to the 8th degree.  Perhaps the word, writer, signifies too much to me; things/realities I know that I will never attain.  And then again, it's a technica