G: Very supportive.
Work: No call.
- I woke at three thinking again. Not good, but I couldn’t quiet the committee in my head. Words crowded through my brain, sequences of what I should say, I should not say, crushing in on me and keeping both of us awake. Finally I got up at four thirty to give himself some doze time and to take the words away. The newspaper is a great panacea for thinking.
- I’ll call the boss when the office opens. I do need to practice my words: thank you words and not working at Petco Park any more words. Any more, no more, not there, please let Kay stay in her job, say hi to your dad. Amen. No serenity or sanity there. Those sorts of words. Those very words that woke me at three.
- I promised more words. Words like this perhaps, tho I like words that have beginnings, middles and ends with rhythm. New words. Words for the Old Grey Poets on Thursday. Words for my writing class on Wednesdays. Life resumes and I am forced to think again but not in the middle of the nights.
- ”You can go back to painting again,” Bee says leaping on my departure. “I don’t have any hand-eye coordination any more,” I replied. “You can relearn techniques,” she countered with great enthusiasm. Only after a mental burp did I remind her that I’d had a stroke and now have a hole where that hand eye coordination used to be. And too, I got really tired of relearning how to do things over and over endlessly. Words are my new home, tho I didn’t say that. She was too delighted to know I was learning Photoshop so I let my words go. At least I don’t seem to have to relearn those words over and over again.