calm after the storm, or, possibly, between the storms

Apologies for the slight gap in transmission: I had what my mother calls A Back and it hurt to sit. The mighty Balmoral arrived and pushing it up the stairs (it was light! Honestly.) I managed to pull something. (Well, that's one version. The other one says the toilet gods were not pleased with my mockery of them and have exacted their revenge. Take that, lowly human! I CERAMICALLY SMITE YOU.)

Be that as it may, all better now, though I must adjust my working posture somehow. (Apparently we should all be standing to work. [Resigned eyeroll.] I mean, what next? Working while on the eliptical trainer? Could you be into that?)

We had a house visit from the social worker - the detective has been replaced by a social worker clone, with exactly the same conscientious, caring attitude, even the same intonation, only male this time. Remarkable! It went well, I thought, the usual faceache-inducing smile-athon, but I am relieved it's over - I hope an interlude of summer calm with very little mowing and minimal tidying might now follow.


See this?

Someone (being the JB) accidentally beheaded the whole flower-head of this foxglove a few weeks ago and it grew two new ones. Isn't nature amazing? Not to stretch a metaphor, but I was sort of hoping this could apply to me too. Not so much that I'd grow two whole new heads, you see, (they would argue) but have a similarly invigorating new burst of life. In fact, if we could all have a little metaphorical new head-growing, that'd be great, Universe, thanks.

Happy Sunday, all. I hope you are well.
T

limbo (cont.)

(but now with more laughs, I hope.) It was a beautiful warm September day today, although even as I write that, I hear a suspect rat-a-tat on the velux over my head. I love this time of year, though, that chill in the air, the excuse to pull on socks and jumpers, the golden light, the darkening skies, the yellow-lit windows. Its wistful intimation of mortality. Yes, it's limbo (cont.), but I feel so much better. Something shifted and I am aware of a dawning optimism, and once more, I can see the point of simple pleasures. Brother came over during the week and dug himself a piece of polystyrene out of the shed where he had clocked it months before. (The man has radar embedded in his brain, I swear it). He was in such good form, I thought, if he is not paralysed by worry about Dazzle, then neither shall I be. Away from me, fear! Get thee hence!
I came down to see my parents today. My poor mother turned up at my house in Dublin on Wed, her face strained with pain. She'd done her back in again and came up to see GoodFriend, among whose many talents is NeuroMuscular Therapy. I went for lunch with Father, and did (despite expectations to contrary) manage to sit with him and even converse genially over our panino and soup in Ander.sons deli. So here I am under the eaves, in the crow's nest, as they watch a cook-off reality show. Tomorrow I am going to give a hand at the Riding for the Dis.abled, which is always nice. My Ma is getting slowly better - but slowly. GoodFriend says there's a chance there's a bone out of line - if so the recovery will be more complicated and a matter of x-rays and whatnot. Poor Magser. (She was telling us how it took her ages to hobble Hunchback-like to the parking metre down at the doctor - for some reason her characterisation of herself tickled her and she started one of the giggling fits she is endearingly prone to. She laughed till she wept. )
So. In conclusion - as I raise my head (Oh dear. There's some really appallingly bad writing going on here. Just as well no one reads this bilge. Or do they? Hrmmmm ;) from the funk, I realise I must Take Steps to make sure my life doesn't contract to the size of a pea, now I have finished my Masters. So, self, take this under advisement.
Every day:
GET OUT, AND SEE THE OTHER HUMANS
GET EXERCISE (have started yoga again - it's in an old seminary in D9. Wonderfully creepy and gothic. Fantastic, and covers two points in one, since there are HUMANS there, and I can see them).
Also, self, every day do at least one of these:
DO VOLUNTARY WORK
DO ACTUAL WORK
DO ART WORK
DO FUN STUFF WITH JB (alongside our current OBSESSION, that is. West Wing, soo good. I like Toby. So wonderfully CRANKY).
Well, self, I believe I have addressed you loudly in capitals long enough. Be about your business, self. And take it easy.
I remain, your faithful superego,
Twangy