|"Three Sisters," Wayne Roberts |
So (after the hours spilled volunteering at the book fair this morning - i.e. paying my Mommy dues - and the hours lost in phone calls to/from sundry folk and yet again consultations with builders and all the sweet-and-sour et cetera that is the rest of my life) I come at last to sit down again to this hard play, this silly work that is writing. (It has not been going well. There are reasons and no reasons for this.) But first I have to check email, make sure no one has died. They haven't. But there are Facebook notifications to which I think I must at last respond and lo! both my sisters are online. I do not, as a rule, chat on Facebook. Because I am superstitious who may be listening in. And because I'd rather . . . you know, chat -- really chat with voice and gesture and all that. But nevertheless:
I'm going crazy and need to be rescued!11:26
I'll rescue you!
Okay. What do you propose?
a plane ticket and a promise to keep your whereabouts a secret?
oooh, don't play with me. That sounds all all ALL too tempting!
escaping is always tempting, isn't it? And who says I'm playing?
What is the nature of your craziness?
house torn apart. still torn apart. mud everywhere. walkways torn apart. workmen who say "I think I'd just plant grass" where I want my rock walkway back and an herb garden. Husbands who are darling but work from home and impinge upon my SPACE. That I yelled at my dau on the way to seminary this morning. That I find myself repugnant - ugly in and out . . . . there's more - need I go on?
And how are you?
Oh EmmaJ! I'm so sorry. Stupid workmen. Stupid house. (I'll stop the stupids there.) If it makes you feel any better, I yelled at H before she went to school the other day, and J said I was a mean mommy. And then I felt truly remorseful all day long and sobbed in the dressing room at the gym. And you are absolutely NOT repugnant in anyway. Not even a particle of you could be described with that term (well, maybe parts of your small intestine could, but let's not get technical here.) I, who have superior judgment, find you perfectly lovely and good, and I adore you absolutely. I hate days like this, though. I wish on these days that I could escape my skin and burrow underground until everything has blossomed and been completed.
* * * * *
|"Three Sisters," Charles Tarbell|
I'm going ga-ga and need to be rescued!
I'll strap on my super sonic jetpack and will be in your place in one hour. Be ready!
|"Saxon Princesses," Lucas Cranach the Elder.|
They of course are the ones with feathers. I am simply grateful to be included in the same frame.