Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


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Friday, October 24, 2003  

I guess I am not a true artist. When the going gets rough artists are supposed to immerse themselves in their art, missing all the signs of pending disaster, forgetting to eat, thereby giving themselves that ethereal artistic look, or using artificial stimulants to help them block out such distractions as traffic and hospital waiting-rooms and piles of ImportantPapers thickening on office desks. Right? Right?

Although I’ve had lots of long lingering nothingness moments over the past 3 weeks, I have barely knitted perhaps 4 inches on anything at all. I’m even working on 4 inch pieces, supposedly to make meager knitting at least productive. I just can’t create when I issues press on me. Too sensitive by far, my only recourse is to talk. talk talk talk talk talk. I get this from my mother. At least I don’t tell complete strangers about other people (the way mama does) but I do chatter like some sort of overwound headbobbing metal toy. We all do. sometimes when I’m with mama and pretty much any of my sisters, I can hear the sound we are making with my out-of-body ear - the one in the head of the self who steps out and looks at the idiotic things said-self is doing.

So yesterday we were back in our favorite NeuroScienceICU waiting room, with other stressed out families, waiting for news from the inner sanctum. Dad was awake when we left - but resisting, as usual, all medical advice. I hope this was just the wearing off of anesthesia. It was obvious he needed rest and equally obvious that the more the family lingered, the less rest he’d get, so we didn’t stay long. Besides, we had to get Mama to her Dr., ‘cause she was coming down with an infection too! Yikes! This is not good.

I didn’t stay the night in the city because I have an 8 a.m. appointment today but I’ll go back early Saturday to help mama with the contractors who are fixing some Isabelle damage.

HandsomePrinceBigDarling has been an Oak throughout this whole thing - not moving in on SensitiveGirleyEmotionalCatholicFamilyDynamics - the sort of emotional situations QuietReservedEpiscopalFFV souls are neither born nor reared to know how to deal with - but ready to move in with BigStrongArmsDrivingTrucks, when needed. And soon PerfectAngelBabyDarlingOnlySonAndFirstGrandchild will be home to spread the calm of his Beneficent Glow-of-Idol-dom to these stormy waters.

And one day I shall knit again!

posted by Bess | 6:58 AM