Things are pretty status quo. I find myself having trouble writing here. There are times now the words just dry up, all that intoxicating fluidity that makes me want to write in the first place somehow gone. I miss those creative bursts in which my fingers just seem to itch until I can get to the keyboard, those waves of thought that get me composing in my head so intently that I shut out the rest of the world. It could be so useful to have that escape now, but it fails me. I write here in hopes that going through the motions will awaken that part of me again. Did it die too?
I registered just for the next part of my algebra journey for the fall semester. I had originally planned to take microbiology or Anatomy and Physiology I as well, but the very idea of it makes me want to sit down with my head in my hands, and it is a great relief to sign up for the self paced Algebra class only and know that my weekends I can spend tending my children, my home and my Joe. I was always the type who wanted a career and never wanted to be a soccer mom or a PTA mom or anything like that. This domestic side of me that has been on the rise for the last few years is surprising and fulfilling.
Of course, I say that. I type that with alllllllllllllll my heart...serious and contemplative and struggling to be fluid and verbose. And yet as I sit here pecking away at my keyboard while lying in bed, Joe is laying beside me laughing at the speed of my typing and the intesnity on my face, then making faces at me like a four-year-old and pretending to scratch his ass like a monkey (don't ask. I have, however, officially threatened to post a video of it if he wont' quit it) and laughing uproariously at his own goofy antics.... and making me laugh with him. And in the laughter I find the real ringing of truth. This is why it is important to me, caring for my home and those I love. These moments, this silliness, this kind of intimacy is what was so missing from my life. This keen awareness of what is true and what is not. This is one of the gifts Joseph's illness has given me I suppose. The ability to recognize what I have while I have it. In this moment, I have a sexy, handsome, very tan man in my bed (a man. in my bed. THIS man. in my bed. finally. FINALLY! oh yessss!) pretending to be a monkey of sorts. I never thought it would happen...at least....(especially?) not in a Ape kind of way.....A mental image I could have potentially gone my whole life without. But then...what fun would that be? Of course, when I then imitate him and scratched my ass in similar fashion he tells me to stop it....that Its gross when I do it. Somehow I don't doubt that. But the giggles go on. I love it when I find those again.