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Favorite Things

September 29th, 2007 by Joyce

The George Ranch is full of our favorite things, like tractors, hay, and cowboys.






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Shoot

September 28th, 2007 by Joyce

Add to the tally of everything we’ve broken lately: a camera.

Nothing is permanent and the same . . . even my stuff.

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In a month

September 26th, 2007 by Joyce

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Morning Stories

September 26th, 2007 by Joyce

David, after fiddling with my legs and belly since 6, says at 6:30:

“Let’s tell a story about oatmeal!”

I guessed he was up.

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Alone in the dark

September 19th, 2007 by Joyce

I’d take a picture, but you wouldn’t see anything.  We’ve discovered a nearby park after dark.  The families leave and the park is all ours.  Street lights and a few decorative landscaping lights provide just enough light to let us see Carmen on the swings, and David in the corner near the sandbox, playing with the big Tonka front loader that someone gave to the playground one day.  He is quiet, busy, playing alone in the dark.

Post completed November 2007.

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Fix it

September 19th, 2007 by Joyce

So, say Carmen has a stuffed horse (she does), and it has a tear (it does).   I could fix it by stiching the fabric back over the rip.  Or, I could cover the hole with a piece of blue masking tape (which is what I did).

When I signed up at TIRR, I thought we could fix my little post-bleed, post-AVM glitches and make me just like new.  I thought I found out today there’s no quick whipstich, just a little masking tape called “coping skills.”

I’m supposed to accept the glitches and work with them, instead of against them.

I can do that, but I guess I’m just surprised.  I thought I was going to be doing the same things I did before, the same way I did them.  I thought I was going to find a needle and thread, but I just found more tape.

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Pictures

September 18th, 2007 by Joyce

Some pictures I’ll never have on film, but in my heart.

  • Recently we drove out to Central Market.  (Central Market is in the Inner Loop, but my house is more inner the Loop than that.)  On our way in we picked up a purple balloon for each kid, and tied the ribbons around their wrists.  Leaving the store and walking through the open parking lot at dusk, C&D held our hands and walked with their bodies turned, the balloons bobbing behind them.
  • My belly button feels raw and tired. Lately David in the morning leans his body against my legs, and inserts his index finger in the center of my bellybutton. “Aw, Mommmmy,” he says, letting out a sigh and relaxing his body back toward sleep.  I’ve never been able to really see this in the premorning dark, and I’m of course lying down, pretending to be asleep, but I can feel him sigh and move and dig into my innie (even more inner than my Inner Loop house), and so I can imagine how it must look.
  • What ads to the picture is Carmen, who in the morning finds my legs and rolls toward them, situating herself between.  She doesn’t scratch them so often anymore. Instead she likes to run her hands up and down then, up and down, like a razor commercial.

We twiddle and stroke, letting the last hazy wisps of sleep disappear under the rising sun.

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