Lost Wednesday

I miss my Wednesday off.  Like in an achey sort of way.

 My hair is officially long enough to have true bed head.  This is AFTER the shower I took. Seriously.

There was work.  My clerk did a lot of work today -and no, her task was not to make a giant pile of boxes.

 I worked all day on the mailing lists - one of my most hated tasks and one that makes my arms really bugged.  Partially because I sit all stupid when I do mind numbing tasks.

Dad Report:  My call to Dad was interrupted - Skype drops or "freezes" the call if I get a text or an alarm on my phone - this time it dropped it and then Dad I guess kept talking for a lengthy period before finally realizing I was gone.  I started looking into flights and hotels for a possible visit up there.  Usually I have stayed at the "family" home in Victoria but I think this time I will just splurge and pay for a hotel room down in his area.  There's a place nearby which has a great inside atrium space and the rooms have kitchens/couches/dvd players etc. and its fully handicap/wheelchair accessable -- so we could spend time there when we just wanted to hang out.  It will be cold when I am there so need to think in terms of activities indoors.

Turns out that Dad's window actually faces that hotel (I believe) which is funny.  But convenient if I actually stay there.  Anyway - we did talk a bit - but one of those days where conversation was sparse...he says that it's ok that he doesn't expect me to have exciting things to say every day. 

Went to Target. Bought too much stuff. Saw pretty things I didn't buy.











Ugh. My elbows are already hurting. Gotta wrap this up.



The writing: This was written when we were in the hospital with Zach last year.  It's really not polished at all but I was so angry in the moment I had to write something.

Who are you to speak this way to my son?

You do not know his laugh or compassion

You have not heard his imitation of Tom Waits

You do not know how he never judges someone

  before he truly knows them

how he defends the weakest always

reaches out to the invisible

You’ve never see him throw water balloons with

his little brother

or snowballs at his Dad

You’ve never heard him play the blues, play music

on anything he touches

You’ve never heard him discuss religion, or philosophy,

or spell almost anything

You can’t appreciate that he’s an artist

or great with little kids

or that he’s a lover of animals

You can’t understand his struggles with depression

and substances; and hardships he’s endured in his life

How dare you pre judge him based on his piercings, tattoos,

and immediate circumstances

He is a beautiful soul and this planet would grieve

to lose him from its lands

The hole left would be enormous

A hole that I hope would swallow you and all your

prejudices

How dare you talk that way to my son.

Random Photo of the Day:

 This is the scarf I made Fisher a number of years ago - red fuzzy soft yarn with knitted pokeman - only time I ever tried/did this technique. 

A final note: A bit incredulous and outraged that in America it is apparently ok - and should be expected these days - to serve your country by going to war for two terms in Iraq, and when you come home while engaging in a peaceful protest, be attacked (unprovoked) by the local police.  Attacked so severely that it puts you in the hospital with a swollen brain, under sedation, on a respirator.   We as a country should be outraged by the attacks in Oakland (and elsewhere) against the protesters.  Does anyone remember Kent State?