therapy scarves

White linen that I plan to draw on and blue homespun

This morning Henry crawled into bed with me and whispered that he didn't want to go school anymore, it was too hard. Sometimes his teacher gives him a mean look because he can't pay attention and he tries so hard to pay attention but it is so difficult. He says there is too much hard work.

Well, what do you think I thought about all day?

It is hard enough trying to convince myself that I did not do anything stupid while he was growing in the womb and that the 24 hours of labor and the 3 days of NNICU and all of that wasn't my fault. Maybe it isn't, maybe it is, but there is nothing I can do to change it. What really tortures me is that right now I don't know what to do. Is he doing okay in school? Are his teachers and therapists doing all they can to help him? Should we change his I.E.P? Should I try to send him to private school? Will his vision ever get better? Will reading ever be easy, and what about sports? Should we do more therapy? I don't know. All I can do is go online and read what research I can find. And guess. And guess.

And go to JoAnn fabrics, buy some yardage, tear it up into scarves and fray the edges. Because I don't have time to be any craftier than that.

In other, lighter news. we went to a really lovely wedding. And we went apple picking and saw lots of family this weekend....

I do not love this photo of me but the boys look cute.

BLT = alternate remedy for meloncholia

Reasons for feeling blue

twisted ankle and fell into shrubbery today

feeling itchy from falling into shrubbery

too lazy/tired to take shower to ease itchiness

need another book to read

have paperwork to do

Ezra is refusing to get in water at swim lessons

sat in puddle at swim lessons today

Henry feels bad about not being very good at soccer which is not helped by all of the machismo boys who live in our hood

terrified of school

terrified that I won't be able to read as much fiction once I enter school

BUT

It is BLT season and these are our own tomatoes!!

P.S For those of you who do not eat bacon....use baked cheddar for a similar experience without the luscious dead pig. The health food deli I used to cook for called this a f(fake) blt. Slice cheddar, place it on parchment paper-lined pan, bake at 350 until dark orange in color, peel off paper asap. et voila. yum.

This kinda reminds me of a spread that Marianne would put together on True Blood....

art = remedy for melancholy

John D. Graham's "Two Sisters", (a detail).

Sisters, again unfinished. um... by me.

One of my Aunt Sheila's theorum paintings, recently given to me by Aunt Kath.

I did it again. I very quickly and in succession read two engrossing novels and sank into a bit of a depression. Please. Tell me. Does this happen to you? This time my partners in crime were the subject of the last post and Graceling- Kristin Cashore. Graceling is a Y.A fantasy novel. I am a bit of a latecomer to the fantasy genre. Molly was into them in school but back then I would never tread far from my beloved victorian novels. Suffice it to say, I thoroughly enjoyed it. But, when it was over, I had trouble facing my real life and had to do some cleaning and painting to get back into reality.

While strolling through the MOMA, I spied a painting entitled "Two Sisters" by John D. (Ivan Dombroski) Graham. I was entirely smitten with the colors, and the subject matter. And I think I may, when I get a moment, use it as inspiration for a few more paintings.

a dream I had

I am on a small boat in the middle of Cayuga Lake. I know Henry is sitting next to me, although I am not looking at him. There is a woman sitting on the other side of me, she has a young daughter and a partner, she went to Wells too. Also on the blue water is a barge-like boat. Not as big as a barge but flat and industrial looking. It is not too far away from us, close enough to see with some detail, that the deck is flanked with dozens of vultures. The vultures are enormous and exaggerated sort of like muppet vultures but not funny ha ha muppet, more like dark crystal material. Then I am in a dark red room and this is where the dream fades.

I know it has to do with Rose. I have been thinking about her a lot. I have been thinking about how the last moment I saw her was in no way in my mind the possible last moment. I was in a gold LeSabre (rental car). She was pulling away from the SeaTac airport, I was entering the rental car area. I had followed her to a gas station, she and Henry and I hugged and then she led the way to the airport. I told her we would try and save money to visit the following year and she said she would try to get back east soon. It was sad but matter of fact. I am so good at denial, a professional really, and it was too painful to think that Rosie would die before we both had gray hairs so I convinced myself that she wouldn't. I crave a conversation with her. I need a conversation with her and her nutty laugh. I need her advice. I need her support and I selfishly don't believe, will not believe that it is forever gone. And frankly all of that Buddhist bullshit about knowing she is spiritually here and that I just need to pray and think about her, well it is not enough and it makes me angry. There I have said it. I feel cheated and the worst part is that I have cheated myself. I have committed the ultimate cliche, I've taken someone for granted and lost them forever.