centipedes have too many legs

we have a phobic parrot. no puppy-prozac, no loving-patient-bring-her-back-to-life solution. just another fact of life the way it is now, something to make us sad and frustrated. for me, it means she wants to be held all the time, preferably tucked under my chin or behind my neck–most preferably hiding under the collar of my bathrobe or in my hood. i think, how did this happen? how can we make this better? and how come there isn’t a hood for me to crawl into, warm and safe against the neck of someone who tends to my every need?

sometimes i feel we’ve lost the knack for comforting each other–we are too worn down, too unsure. at least we are still able to be there, to be together, to occasionally search out a tiny laugh. lately, while he was still recovering from food poisoning (for real. this lasted weeks.) and while we both were laid up with the flu, comfort became easier, more basic. i can fetch you some tylenol. i can cook for you something bland and starchy. you can cover me with blankets, you can bring me more water. we just became so bodily exhausted that everything else had to be put aside.

now i feel better, and i’m not sure how i feel. i think he feels the same. maybe it’s a chance to consider us shoved (dragged?) a big step in the right direction.

and then there’s retail therapy. i bought a dress today. i have no shoes that go with this dress. which i guess is surprising. i have no place to wear it, no event. but it is navy and lime green, and it was shaped to understand that i have some serious bosoms. so i bought it, and just a little bit, it made me feel good. if i haven’t worn it in a year, it will go away, but for now, there’s a new dress hanging in my closet. well, it will be hanging, as soon as i get around to it. i fully believe environment can reflect and affect mood. we’ve been messy and dark, small wonder. a hibernating cave of illness and sadness. who says cleaning has to wait for spring? i’m putting on new sheets tonight (guess what, they are lime green) and replacing the bathroom curtain. it’s paper, and full of scrawly writing that says something. maybe i’ll even try to read it. we tape it to the window and lots of light comes through, but no peeking. one small moon-step. one very large ramble of type.

ps. i’ve been into learning what wordpress has to say about my use of language, since it told me that “ladies” was offensive on the haiku blog. it’s just told me several times that i shouldn’t be using passive language, and that i should capitalize, not invent words, and particularly not use “complex expressions” like “reflect.” well, that’s another tiny laugh for me. complex my rear end.

i’m not sure i’m convinced that this is still a good idea. but i don’t like the look of neglect. other places and kinds of writings have survived the turmoil of 2009… perhaps when i should have been giving here the most. so, in the spirit of new beginnings, a rainy day when nothing else is worth the attempt, a return. it is still true that centipedes have too many legs, this much i know.

lately we’ve taken to saying ‘our life resembles a bad high school short story’ or ‘you wouldn’t believe me if i filled you in’ or ‘actually, no, things haven’t been fine.’ well, the first, true. the second, also sometimes true, and even though i understand, it stings. the third, the hardest and most meaningful to say, also true. we still have all our necessary parts, a roof over our heads and food to eat, we still have each other. in the grand scheme of things, it could be a whole lot worse. in the slightly less grand, it’s really too much to handle. but handling it is the only option, for as long as that takes, and coming out on the other end with as little collateral damage as possible.

meanwhile, seeds. the backyard garden was one item of success in a very long and disappointing year. nothing like the tangible accomplishments of growing things–things which can be eaten. a handful of failures, the cucumber seeds were duds (replacements were obtained) the gigantic (also beautiful) potato plants were not only of the wrong variety, they had a ridiculous yield. but in the face of bountiful eggplants, tart-delicious tomatoes which had nary a spot of blight, a rosemary bush bigger than a small child, potatoes can go screw. already, in the midst of this odd, mostly welcome january warm snap, plans for the next spring seeds are underway.

wednesdays all summer and fall were a stolen delight–tea with good friends in the early afternoon followed by farm stand shopping (oh my!) followed by csa pick up (oh my!) followed by yoga and then frequently cooking. who gets to have a day like this mid week? always a moment of rest. a moment of discovery. a moment of yum.

another highlight–beginning to teach the sunniest child (in the sunniest of places) to swim. so many giggles, so many shivers. so much more to come.

the addition of some kitchen appliances that make us feel fully grown up. the lack of job stability that makes us feel lost, and terribly behind in the game. a loss. a fantastic kiss. how does one sum up a whole year?