Sunday

Sitting thinking there was nothing to write about these days. And my mind is such a whirlwind that I can’t even remember who I’ve told about my dad and his brain surgery a few weeks ago. Have I even written about it here?

That’s a later post if not.

I woke on the day after bringing my irrevocably changed father home (which happened yesterday) after a fitful night. I’m cutting back on my over the counter sleep aids at the wrong time. Think I’ll take the usual dose tonight for sure. Even after the first exhaustion of work lately and helping with dad when I can you’d think my sleep would be better for that alone. Nope. Can’t sleep well. So today was a stay at home with kiddo day.

He of course sleeps until after noon and I had been up four hours at nine-thirty, and was quite stir crazy. Went and got a coffee (PSL season just began after all), and thrifted a minute, then decided to listen to my audio book and just drive a little.

Adventures clear my mind and make my soul happy. I drove under the glaring painful sun and light cornflower skies into hills that ache for rain. It’s beautiful in its harsh way, watching this premature Fall. But it’s not Fall, it’s trees in pain and turning brown. No pretty reds and crisp air, it’s oppressive and hot as a hair dryer blowing full blast in your face. Hard to breathe, sweat rolling down your spine.

The Desert Willows were blooming in soft pinks though, waving long green fingers at the traffic as I passed. I had to pull over and trim a twig to see if I can root it. I also grabbed a piece of Jerusalem Thorns, it’s spiky and odd and a perfect addition to a native (sadist’s) garden. Those now sit next to the native rose I’ve been holding onto for two years now. I’d like to plant them someday. Maybe these will be plants I can’t kill, who knows? My black thumb seems to know no bounds. I think it’s because I love freedom so much that when I try to contain a plant it senses the conundrum and commits suicide.

After snagging the bits of native wild things I ran to the natural gardening place close by to get some rooting powder (which they didn’t have, I had to get it at Lowe’s). They had the cutest entry rug that had a black kitty and said “Beware of Cat”, I’m going to have to go back to get one.

When I got home I still had the antsies, so cut out material for a better ribbon skirt than the one I’d started. The pattern for this one was fuller and very similar to the one I’ve been working on this week. Better waistband though, this is going to be a lovely garment when done. I need to stop being so hard on myself. Too much a perfectionist.

Speaking if, I need to stop giving myself shit for not using a rare day off to its fullest. It simply isn’t fair to myself. It’s felt odd not being at the woodshop every weekend, odd enough I had to go do a little work a week ago. Just needed to play on the lathe and concentrate. It’s meditative, wood turning. It requires you to focus, and safely. The loudness of the machine and tools against the wood remind you again and again that you are quite literally in danger. Not a lot of room for many thoughts when you’re in danger. And that’s precisely what I needed.

So now I sit with another skirt started, really excited to see what I can do with it. I’ve so many pretty pieces to do, and they yell at me from across the room when I have lazy days like this one. I’ve two house panthers snoozing next to me, and the earth has sweltered so long with no rain that when I heard thunder from a front coming in I thought it was a truck backfiring.

Raw? Numb? Yes and yes. Many things and many emotions, all at the same time.