Liralen Li (liralen) wrote,
Liralen Li

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The Katrina news is wiping me out. Safe and sound at home, it's still too much for me, in ways I hadn't expected. I'm responding with old reflexes, old ways of dealing, old ways of hiding, and mostly reading, reading, reading fiction and playing a lot with Jet. I'm just reading and knitting and avoiding the stupid sensationalist media. It's making it hard to deal with my real life in many ways. Though it now makes my way of dealing with stress something less funny.

There was a time when I often said, "Well, no one I know died today, that makes it a good day." A way to keep my perspective. Now, eventhough I don't know the folks that are dying, it doesn't make it a good day, at all. I wonder if Bush will ever ask folks to fly flags at half mast for all those anonymous deaths?

I'll follow a couple of blogs, now, and that's enough for me. The metroblogging in N.O. has been anything other than sensationalist, trying to just spell out what they can, including an "I'm okay" site. I get plenty of sensation from interdictor who just refuses to leave. But that's more than enough for me.

I reread Sunshine in two sittings. ("Look Jet, Momma hasn't moved!" after the J's came home from playing next door.) The one break was to get Jet to bed. I was stiff with cold when I went to bed at 2am.

Jet let me nap in the livingroom while he played Hot Wheels on my blankets. He let me feed him some breakfast first, and then cheerfully played with his cars until he came over, jumped into my lap and sat on me, hard and said, "Momma, it's one oh dot dot three eight. Are you gonna wake up?"

I did. Fed myself a foody omelet. Fresh chives cut from the garden, two eggs from chickens that ran and fed off tons of bugs in an organic farm with a bit of black pepper, cheddar cheese grated fine and browned in the butter and stirred into the eggs when they were stirred into the pan, tomatoes from the garden which I'd slow roasted for two hours in thyme, garlic, and olive oil gently diced and tossed onto the soft eggs. A few flakes of crisp, briny French sea salt on top made it a reason to be alive.

A summer decadence.

Especially with a latte made with the last of my Brazilian Cerrado coffee. Cerrado region is a savana-like area, dry and flat, in Minas Gerais state. Brazilian coffees can be nutty, sweet, low-acid, and develop exceptional bittersweet and chocolate roast tastes, but they aren't very dense. I'd roasted it a little too far, as it's a little ashy, but still robust, with good crema and scent. Really nice stuff.

From there Jet wanted to go to McDonald's. I had coupons, so we went, dropping off a live rosemary rootling to a lady that had dug up a chunk of her herb garden for me, yesterday. I still had the sad looking plants in their plastic bag at home. I gave her the potted little guy and wished him well.

We then hit mackydanoaldo's and paid $1 for Jet's Happy Meal. The new chicken sandwiches are pretty okay, but after that breakfast I had no need for pseudo-food. Jet knocked back his nuggets with practiced speed, and swarmed up into the tubes. He climbed hard for a good hour, then I lured him out with hot fudge sundaes. We ate those contentedly and then went to the library, where we returned all of Jet's vids from last week, and he got a couple more along with some books. "Grumpy Bunnies" caught my eye along with an Olivia book, and Jet wanted to get "Two Peas in a Pod" about twin brothers. So we did.

I got Jane Yolan's Here There Be Dragons. Gorgeous book in the teens section, brand new and full of illustrations of Yolan's dragon stories. If there are no dragons there is no St. George... she said the book was partially in response to some folks that don't want fantasy or sf to have dragons in them anymore (uhm... someone say someone overused dragons a bit? ahem).

I won't bury myself in it tonight. I don't think.

Went to the scrapbooking store and they didn't have pH testing pens and they did have a plethora of stamps that had Jet going, "I want THAT." including him clutching and crying when I put back a dot stamp. "We can draw dots, Jet..." "No we can't!"

Yes. Nap time. I drove just a little further (mindful of the stupid gas prices) and when I heard snoring in the back seat I took him home and put him in my room and we slept. When John came home he slept like a rock as well. Jet and I went outside and rescued the plants that I'd neglected for the last couple of days and Jet took a bath in the wash tub outside. It was 93 in the shade, so I didn't think he'd get too cold, and we used good, warm water in the tub itself and a bit of vanilla bubble bath. He loved me using the watering can on "rain" for his shower afterwards, to get all the soap off him.

Jet then played Hot Wheels game on the computer upstairs while I stared at my scrapbook and realized I was stuck, mentally. I had gone as far as I could into it and was stuck at a point where I knew my father-in-law and some of the other relatives that had been there had some of the pictures I needed to really finish the reunion part of this. I may just get on with it and start documenting the trip home. The nice thing about movable pages is that I can move them later, just do the parts I can do and leave the rest until I get all the photos I need.

John woke up. We had dinner at Abo's. We came home, various folks had various types of ice cream. We watched the Gene Wilder version of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, with Jet sitting in my lap while I whizzed through the latter third of Sunshine again. Something is definitely cooking in the backbrain.

My problem is that the last time I really wrote I only seemed to be able to do it while neglecting my personal and professional life. I can't do that now. I'm not sure my brain can straddle both worlds, now, and do justice to either of them, even scrapbooking, itself, has stretched some of the things I think I *should* be doing. I guess I'll only know if I try.

John had a struggle to get Jet up to do pajamas as it was already kind of late. But I went up with them, and Jet, when he heard about Grumpy Bunnies had to smile, which cheered him up enough to let John do the rest of the bedtime routine. I shopped for my sister's birthday, I wrote this then and afterwards. I need to go to sleep. I Will Not Phase Shift, eventhough my old Crack of Noon nature makes this much more comfortable than being an early bird. The quiet, cool dark of the night is so much more comfortable than the heat of the day in the summer...
Tags: coping, food, jet, katrina

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