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juushikaEvil headache demons say, "Arrrrg! Die kitten, die!" But, regretfully, they have not yet managed to kill me.
Ergo, a little bit more posting and picspam—in the hopes that both will distract me from the headache.
Visit Home
I made a visit home today, for Sunday breakfast with my family—a long-time tradition—and to see my sister in one of her few days in town before she heads cross-country for the summer. Breakfast was wonderful, pancakes with whipped cream. But seeing my sister in baseball season means sitting near the TV and reading a book; I'm the only one in the family with no interest in baseball, I'm used to it, but still. Papa and I then took Jamie (the black lab) out for a walk: the source of this headache. Social events, sun, and exercise can be pleasant but they also tap out my resources—and there was much sun.
My mother I can sometimes talk about what I "do"—learn, read, think, create. With my father, we have dual one-way communication. "I read this book and it was interesting because." "That's nice. I test rode this bike and it was interesting because." "That's nice." The responses are authentic but they're not productive, they're not a dialogue. So, instead of talking, we do. We take the dog on a walk. The silence is companionable, and the changing environment offers us a few more ideas for our one-sided but well-intentioned communication. It may sound unfulfilling, but it's not. My father and I are as different as my mother and I are the same: he thinks concretely, I think theoretically; he is content, I am discontent; he balances, I unbalance. And so he balances me, and I find peace in our interactions.
We walked downtown. It was bright, but beautiful, with enough shade that I didn't burn—the headache is the worst of it. We met a huge and handsome golden retriever, walked through a waterfall caused by a misplaced third-story balcony sprinkler, and explored a youth home's vegetable garden. Pity the sun was so bright and overhead—it was poor conditions for taking photos. Nonetheless I did get one:
If you can identify the plant, please do. I should know, but the knowledge has fled to the back of my brain.
(And Googling "purple leafy green"? Not so productive, actually.)
My relationship with Devon's family.
I never asked to live with Devon's family—I just lived here his parents moved in, and didn't move out when they came. I love it here, and I get along well with his folks, but I also harbor doubts that they resent me for imposing myself. They have every reason to: I take up space and contribute little.
Devon's mother went to the coast for her first vacation in almost a decade—and came back with trinkets for the boys and a bracelet for me. She knocked softly on my door, so as not to wake me if I was napping; she worried I'd not like it; she was thrilled and talkative when I said it was wonderful. And it is.
I'd mention the maker if I know, but I only know where it was purchased. I will admit: rigid cuff bracelets aren't my style (I have a bony little wrist, so they never lie right) and with seams all along the inner edge the quality isn't spectacular. But as an unexpected and thoughtful gift from a mother-not-in-law? It is fantastic. Coppers and browns delight me, and the woven silver strands are unusual and quite beautiful. I was touched, and shall wear it. Perhaps I shouldn't need reassurance that I'm welcome and wanted, but I am thankful for it when it comes—especially unprompted, especially small, when it feels most sincere.
Ergo, a little bit more posting and picspam—in the hopes that both will distract me from the headache.
Visit Home
I made a visit home today, for Sunday breakfast with my family—a long-time tradition—and to see my sister in one of her few days in town before she heads cross-country for the summer. Breakfast was wonderful, pancakes with whipped cream. But seeing my sister in baseball season means sitting near the TV and reading a book; I'm the only one in the family with no interest in baseball, I'm used to it, but still. Papa and I then took Jamie (the black lab) out for a walk: the source of this headache. Social events, sun, and exercise can be pleasant but they also tap out my resources—and there was much sun.
My mother I can sometimes talk about what I "do"—learn, read, think, create. With my father, we have dual one-way communication. "I read this book and it was interesting because." "That's nice. I test rode this bike and it was interesting because." "That's nice." The responses are authentic but they're not productive, they're not a dialogue. So, instead of talking, we do. We take the dog on a walk. The silence is companionable, and the changing environment offers us a few more ideas for our one-sided but well-intentioned communication. It may sound unfulfilling, but it's not. My father and I are as different as my mother and I are the same: he thinks concretely, I think theoretically; he is content, I am discontent; he balances, I unbalance. And so he balances me, and I find peace in our interactions.
We walked downtown. It was bright, but beautiful, with enough shade that I didn't burn—the headache is the worst of it. We met a huge and handsome golden retriever, walked through a waterfall caused by a misplaced third-story balcony sprinkler, and explored a youth home's vegetable garden. Pity the sun was so bright and overhead—it was poor conditions for taking photos. Nonetheless I did get one:
If you can identify the plant, please do. I should know, but the knowledge has fled to the back of my brain.
(And Googling "purple leafy green"? Not so productive, actually.)
My relationship with Devon's family.
I never asked to live with Devon's family—I just lived here his parents moved in, and didn't move out when they came. I love it here, and I get along well with his folks, but I also harbor doubts that they resent me for imposing myself. They have every reason to: I take up space and contribute little.
Devon's mother went to the coast for her first vacation in almost a decade—and came back with trinkets for the boys and a bracelet for me. She knocked softly on my door, so as not to wake me if I was napping; she worried I'd not like it; she was thrilled and talkative when I said it was wonderful. And it is.
I'd mention the maker if I know, but I only know where it was purchased. I will admit: rigid cuff bracelets aren't my style (I have a bony little wrist, so they never lie right) and with seams all along the inner edge the quality isn't spectacular. But as an unexpected and thoughtful gift from a mother-not-in-law? It is fantastic. Coppers and browns delight me, and the woven silver strands are unusual and quite beautiful. I was touched, and shall wear it. Perhaps I shouldn't need reassurance that I'm welcome and wanted, but I am thankful for it when it comes—especially unprompted, especially small, when it feels most sincere.
