She Made Me Smile More in that Instant than Any Sad Song Ever Written

I write from my living room's second-best chair, as the best chair is currently inhabited by a giant, orange, single brain-celled organism we call Floyd Mayweather. I haven't got the heart to disturb him, because if I scootch him over, he will bolt and he looks peaceful and happy. I do have my stocking feet on the coffee table. Don't tell anyone that I allowed even myself that concession. I should eat something. I don't think that I will. 

I guess I put down the laptop and went to bed without finishing that one, huh? Let me start again.

Y'all, be careful what you manifest and careful what you pray for. You might get it, but if you don't specify, it won't be like you want. I'd gained some happy weight lately and I'd been working to drop it in the past week or so hoping for that mystical number I was last year when Lena took me to the beach with the babies. I'd conveniently forgotten that I got to that weight by having literally four plagues at the same time. Well, apparently, flu A will take you right back to that magical number in a mere five days. I lost seven pounds in five days. Lord, thank you, but that ain't what I meant. I haven't been back on the scale since that last weigh-in, but I can tell you that my appetite has not improved and that my cheekbones can cut glass at this point. I bear a striking resemblance to my father.

So yes, after getting my vaccine, I was still dog sick, stay in bed, drink fluids, and feel sorry for myself for two days. The first day, Monday, wasn't so bad. Just a little cough and kind of tired and no appetite. Tuesday and Wednesday, I wished for my own demise. I felt a bit better after that and then the cough set in. So coughing like I have tuberculosis to go with the complexion and I may die of consumption yet. Today, I'm feeling better. Still no appetite, barely a cough and tired, but definitely on the road to recovery. And thanks to a good metabolism these days, my body just ate what it had very quickly. My brain has no calories. My ability to walk up the stairs and shower don't either. But I've managed to do some laundry and wash my disgusting hair.

I spent a good chunk of the lovely afternoon one day last week in a hammock on a patio in front of a pond with good music, lazily bird-watching and sipping water. That's not a terrible way to convalesce. The company was also top-tier, as the company provided the hammock, the birds, and the music, as well as ruining Glen Campbell for me permanently. The company also provided the flu, so it's not all rainbows and sunshine. I have to say, I don't think I've ever wanted anyone anywhere near me while I'm truly sick, but I was grateful.

I still went to bed at 7pm last night and stayed there until 8am today. I mostly watched Cate Blanchett narrate a nature show. That's been my comfort with this round of sickness. Yesterday, I ate two cookies, half a grilled cheese, and a handful of fries. I keep waiting for my appetite to return. And I know that it will and with that will return my energy levels. I've just kind of been eating what's convenient once a day, not for enjoyment, but because I'm too old to pass out and break my hip in public.

I'm working on my donation for the annual auction for Nuci's Space. What? Did you think that I'd stop doing my small portion of good for anything as petty? I guess that's all I'll ever care to say about that. I began that paragraph to say that I've started sheathing my embroidery scissors every single time I put them down. My wish for this moment is that I will always care to take such care as I do in this moment. Life is made in small things. A bed sheet tucked in at the foot and scissors never carelessly abandoned. The idea that we always go one second out of our way to do things to bring small comforts to others.

This item isn't my usual glory. I'm tired. I've been working on other causes this year too. I hope by this time next year, I'll be close enough that I can pop in over there on a regular basis. I doubt you can ever have too many successful grant writers for a worthy cause. And they truly were my first nonprofit love. To think that all of that living in the past (is it eleven) years brought me from an aspiring artist, to a patron, to a contributing artist, to a nonprofit volunteer, to a student, to a certified grant writer, to an awarded grant writer, and all the way back around again.

I am considering adding a couple options for commission pieces to the mix. I've had a few people ask and you know, I don't think it's been done before. Dave says it's a good idea and has written up a couple spots for those. I'd been thinking to do that for a couple years and some of the other artists thought it was a good idea too. I've had folks ask in the past if I'd be interested in taking commissions for the auction benefit, so I guess it was only a matter of time.

I'm headed back to my own house tonight. My own bed and my own cats and my own coffee maker. There are certainly some comforts there that I don't have here, but like Nanny, I often just find it too quiet without someone to bring cups of coffee and offer lunch to. I supposed that's part of the curse of spending most of my life in a large community sort of family, all kind of working together and helping each other.

Until next time, hug someone for me.