Day 11: peanuts | I was a different person then


Today the weather is very warm and windy, with dark gray clouds like the kitten’s marble fur quilting a pattern across the sky. The humidity and higher temperatures are not helping my headache situation one bit, nor is the fact that I barely slept last night. X is still sick and was running a fever this morning, so we postponed her friend spending the night to tomorrow in hopes that she’ll be well enough by then.

We did get an exciting email today. X tried out for her first play recently, Charlotte’s Web. There were twice as many kids trying out as there were available parts, so we weren’t surprised when she didn’t get one. It was still a great experience for her though, and I made sure to tell the director that she would still want to be part of the back stage crew. I opened today’s email from the troupe eagerly, anticipating information about when X should start attending rehearsals, and read to my delight that she actually WILL get to be onstage for a moment or two, which made us SO happy. Maybe me more than anyone else, since acting was one of my very favorite things to do in high school. X will get to be one of the fair goers in attendance when Wilbur receives his special ribbon. Charlotte’s Web is the first book I read to X at bedtime, about five years ago, every night until she fell asleep, then the next night backtracking to the last scene she could remember, until we both wept as Charlotte died and Wilbur greeted her baby spiderlings with “salutations!”

The circle of life. Coming full circle. The Lion King, to which twenty years ago on its opening night I took my two beloved little cousins, ages 10 and 7 (?), at a time when they were staying with my family and desperately needed me, and I them, and I was taught at not yet 21 years old the unconditional, lioness love a heart-and-soul (if not biological) mother can feel for her daughters. Yesterday was the elder’s birthday; today their baby sister’s, born that year, now turning, of course, 20, the same age I was that tumultuous summer.

And now we are watching another Disney film, the trippy and wonderful Alice In Wonderland, which J watched over and over as a child, and the original annotated text through which I have poring for a quotation and image to use as a future tattoo (“I have changed several times since then,” or “Any road will take you there,” and endless others) which I just told my artist friend Wednesday as her vibrating ink-bleeding needle buzzed and stuttered into the tender skin of my right ankle when she asked, “So what are you going to do next?”

Medical full circle: my new neurologist’s office is in the same practice as my very first, whom I started seeing in maybe 1984 and who actually only just retired. I switched to a neurology resident at the university hospital because of a preventative my original guy introduced me to but would not let me continue taking: Sansert (Methysergide). It worked but had potential side effects he felt were too dangerous for long term use and I disagreed. I was able to continue taking Sansert for around ten years on and off, until I wanted to get pregnant, and it was pulled from the market around then anyway. Now I’m heading back to that practice for very similar reasons: the wonderful, open-minded resident is long gone and I’ve been stuck with staid and rigid Dr T and C. I am still my own best advocate.

Other current full circle completions: my very first tattoo in 1996, a crescent moon, tattooed over the other day with a full moon eclipse, and loopy letters in my own handwriting encircling my ankle: “all in all is all we are” from Nirvana’s All Apologies, which I know I’ve described a few times already. The same day of the tattoo, my brother sent me a text that he had accidentally / on purpose listened to Led Zeppelin for the first time since he was 11, because “Over The Hills and Far Away” had been playing on the radio when he left his house, and he kind of liked it, so he played Houses Of The Holy on Spotify on his drive down to our parents’ house with his little daughter, my niece SoSo. I have loved Led Zeppelin since I was, well, 15 (which corresponds to my brother being 11). And then when I arrived at the tattoo studio, my artist just happened to be playing Led Zeppelin III in her room: “The road we choose is always right, so fine.”

When J and I first became close friends, he was working on his senior art project, a gorgeous comic called Agency Girl. After his girlfriend dumped him and he freaked out, hiding for a few days at his grandmother’s house, I managed to save his job at the coffee shop when he no-call-no-showed and upon his return gave him the most meaningful gift I could offer: a smooth, oval thumb of rose quartz, an opaque semi-precious pale pink stone I have been casually, continuously collecting ever since finding a fist-sized chunk outside my fourth floor dorm room window on the narrow, icy brick sill (which faced only the winding road, distant bike path, muddy river and low rolling hills) right after the Blizzard of 93 dumped a foot of snow and cancelled classes. Following my gestures, J gave me the most meaningful gift he could: he made ME the gorgeous, ethereal heroine of Agency Girl, a tall, willowy, tattooed red headed goddess wielding a magical pink crystal and saving the world.

And now, a new comic book. And all of us the stars.


Text of Page:
08.29.14 | Day 11: Peanuts | Migraine365 | Percocet Pick-up | X Kat | Nature Valley Gluten Free Granola Bars TRIGGER | Zo Fox | Kenya & Sumatra & Asia

One Comment Add yours

  1. Cathern says:

    What a data of un-ambiguity and preserveness of precious familiarity on the topic of unpredicted emotions.

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