Duh.

After a summer of wearing Rainbow flip flops (very comfortable; not at all squishy) almost exclusively, taking an evening walk in athletic shoes feels like heaven.

(What are these things on my feet? Springs? Maybe I can complete today's burpee challenge after all!)

Life, by the way, is rolling steadily along. Had quite a bit of drama in the family/close friends group over the past six months: a long hospital stay, a twice-broken ankle, a cancer scare (that is to say, it was indeed cancer, but it's been removed), a bipolar relapse...but things have been leveling out, and there are also several weddings coming up, and there's been a good amount of playing in waves and sand, and a couple of friendships restored and others renewed, and a new camping hammock, and more reading than I've done in quite a while. Things are good.

On a more mundane note,

Kelly and Junior and I hung out with Laura and Jen today, for the first time in AGES. We had a very slow-in-arriving lunch downtown, and then met Jack at the always lovely Belle Aisle. Gorgeous. We rock-hopped for quite some time, I found a hypodermic needle in the sand, Kelly and I argued about whether I should be able to swim in my clothes before getting back into her car, etc. Eventually we (all dry from the knees up, unfortunately) donned our shoes again and trooped back to the cars. I may see Laura and Jen again tomorrow. The rest of us migrated to Kelly's for dinner. All in all, it was a nice day.

Side note: my wrist is evidently still fractured, and is displeased with all this climbing around and general usage of my right wrist/hand/arm. Every time I sit on the floor and try to stand, or sit in a chair with arms and try to reposition myself, I am not-so-gently reminded to stay the hell off my ulna.

Okay, well that was really hard. A little like riding out a hurricane in a treetop.


On the plus side, I always sleep better after sobbing uncontrollably, on the hall floor or elsewhere.


We did go to Dino Land, and that was good. Jr had never been. We got shirts this time. We also saw Iron Man 2, which was decent. David and I actually talked today, which was a good thing. I had been terrified to talk to him honestly, because I was afraid of what I might hear. It wasn't quite as bad as I feared (or else I am lying to myself, which is a possibility). But it still hurts a lot. My mom is pretty much demonizing David for hurting me, despite my best efforts toward explaining that he isn't doing anything deliberately hurtful. My dad is tempted, but is resisting, and remembering that David is a good guy. I'm glad. I wish I could help my mother understand that this just hurts. It isn't because anyone is bad. Sometimes things just have to hurt for a while. I'm sure she knows that, but she's having a lot of trouble applying it to her firstborn.

In other news, I screwed up my wrist while moving the fold-out couch by myself. David had gone to do something for a minute and we didn't know Jr was in the building, so I started moving the couch out of the office and onto the hand truck so it could be moved out of the building. Unfortunately, in standing the thing on its end and trying to get the legs past the door jam, I got my hand and wrist sort of stuck momentarily between the steel door frame and the bottom of the sofa, and came close to breaking it. I had thought this merely a "close call," but an hour or two later I realized that it was actually injured, and now it hurts to twist it at all. Good times.

March at home

Outside tonight there are suddenly moths and peeping frogs, and a whispering breeze that doesn't bite, but caresses and soothes. It may be still March, but the spring is coming.

Inside tonight I've been reading Neil Gaiman, which is always a treat, and cooking frozen fish. A little while ago my mother came upstairs and enlisted my help to make tostadas. She shows me up without even thinking about it. She is frying tortillas, handing me long-memorized ingredients for homemade guacamole, spooning leftover made-from-scratch black beans and salad with the practiced grace of a mother and an artist. Meanwhile, I am burning my knuckle to a blister trying to flip Gorton's fish fillets without removing the tray from the 425 degree oven. She hands me a plate of tostadas and directs me to the aloe she has growing in the bathroom.