scattered

My thumb is sore this morning because I spent several hours last night quilting with my mom. My wedding quilt. I am loving the colors and the fabrics and the in-out-in-out of the quilting needle. It is my trousseau, the marking of my territory. Worth the pricking.

I have a lot in my mind today. I'm thinking about the oldest member of the community band, who passed away over the weekend. He was always so kind, that man with the eight decades of music. Last summer his clarinet was still swinging away as a soloist when we played dixie music. I respect that. I'll never match it.

I came into work an hour and a half early today so I can leave in time for a dentist appointment. Ugh. It's something to dread, something to do. I've never neglected them, but my teeth don't trust me. They betray me. And sometimes I have moments in the chair when the dentist makes a racist joke and I can only think of horses, horses, horses.

I'm in debt, relational debt. It's always been a problem. Taking, delaying the giving until it's too late. Payment refused. I have been amazed over and over by how patient my friends seem to be with me. Perhaps it's because they couldn't be my friends if they weren't. I'm so scattered and strange. It takes a stout heart to keep waiting after my bursting while I gather myself back together.

Oh what else. I have been breathing chocolate and spooning on a couch. Lifting weights, selling my bodily fluids for grocery money. Coaxing continued life out of my seizurey computer, avoiding Thursdays. Not so bad.