What Comes Around, Goes Around, But Don't Worry About the Dizzy, Baby (That's just you taking shape.)

We rode a train today in two circles.  I asked Nora where we'd end up, if we could ask the conductor to drop us off in France, and she replied (so factually minded) that we would be returned to the same place we had begun.  Then she set her face forward (brave girl ready to do it all again and again only to arrive as she had left, resigned, determined) and despite this, enjoyed the cool breath that moved across her sweaty forehead when I wanted to take her up and tell her to never return to the same place she started without having been changed, without doing something good and crazy and healthy on the journey.   She knew this already.

The conductor would pull the whistle rope, and I matched the note with arms up in the air riding a completely horizontal roller-coaster:  WOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOO.  I could see from the way Nora wanted to laugh but didn't that she was on the edge of being embarrassed.  But I refused to let it pass: the chance to yell WOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  In the tunnel, the conductor turned around and yelled, "Ready?"  Yes, I was.  And we screamed through the tunnel.  Twice around we went, and just as Nora had promised, we were returned to the place we started but better, released, loud and cool.

Tales from the Sickbed

Someone Needs to Go Back to School

Nora loves to type random letters on my keyboard and then have me read them to her.  For example:
aiopwpeoinbknps.  She delights in the sounds, all garbled and silly.  So do I.

After a few minutes of this, I start typing sentences for her to read:

I love Nora.

Nora loves cats.

Nora loves stars.

Nora loves dogs.

Nora loves blue.

She did fine up until this last one.  "Nora loves...b....Nora loves....bue..."  Suddenly a look of recognition.  "NORA LOVES BOOBS!"

This is what happens when you miss almost two weeks of school.


So, this is Friday night, eh?

I know I've been sick, but it's Friday.  I'm pretty sure if I wipe the rim of my wine glass with a Clorox disinfecting wipe, I'm in the clear.


Maybe It's A Little Too Soon to Try Jumping on the Bed, Nora

There's a look of panic on her face.  I grab her around the waist and rush her out toward the bathroom.  "Stop, Mom.  Stop."  I put her down.  "It's okay.  I just threw up a little in my mouth, but I swallowed it.  That's the easiest way to take care of throwing up."


We rest.  We mend.  We eat a little.  We mend.  We are loved from near and far.  We mend.  Prayers go up.  We mend.  We laugh.  We mend.