The weather is working for us – albeit, not for everyone else in the county – but for us, this has been a good weather weekend. I can tell when the weather’s nice, Gerry itches to get out and DO something. Rain is a respite!
It’s raining – overcast, grey, sleep-all-afternoon while watching history documentary kind of weather. Gerry’s feeling the effects from his growth hormone shots; achy joints, general malaise and tiredness, but NO fever so far. Yay!
Tonight at 5:00 we call the hospital to get the results from Gerry’s blood test. If the numbers are good, we start the harvest tomorrow. If the numbers aren’t where we’d like, we have another day of growth hormone shots.
The nurse who gave Gerry his growth injections on Fri & Sat looked like Vincent D’onofrio in scrubs, and had a nice sense of humor. I gave him a flip knit book and it made him laugh.
I got a nice email from someone who works in the BMT dept of Mayo. The nurse we met with on Thursday to go over the whole procedure once again (I’ve promised her if she gives me 30 minutes, I’ll teach her to knit!) passed along the ad for my Textile Center fund raiser on Friday.
And so this nice person – who is a knitter – emailed me to welcome us to Rochester. We’ll have EVERYONE on our BMT team knitting by the time I leave!
Gerry’s editing some video that we shot on Friday – he’s wanting to do some kind of video diary of his experience. I figured a way to attach his camera to the walker – the gimp-cam we call it.
He just told me that he looks old when he sees himself move on tape. He worries that he’ll never be able to stand up straight again. We’re wondering exactly how much of the bone damage to his back is irreversible.
We were able to get a board between the mattress & springs, which makes everything more comfortable for G, and we’ll have ourselves cuddled in for an afternoon of rest. History of Britain, all 15 episodes, here we come!
Atticus has been boarded so far, but on Friday when I drive up to St. Paul for the aforementioned fund raiser at the Textile Center I’ll stop by and pick up the puppy, take him to get a nice trim while I head over to get a trim, myself!
I may even get a pedicure, if I’m feeling peppy.
Then I’ll pick up Atticus and head over to the center to talk, tell some jokes and sign books. I’m hoping it will be okay that I have the pup with me – I know he’ll sit quietly at my feet while I talk, he’ll just be so darned happy to SEE me (and vice versa!)
Then back to Rochester, where Atticus will FINALLY be with us for a week before Gerry’s mom and sister come into town on 8/29.
If Gerry’s up to it, when the kids get into town the next day we’ll bring them to Rochester so they can see dad. If Gerry’s risk of infection is too great, though, the kids will have to put off seeing him for another week or so.
Atticus, the kids, Gerry’s sister and the cat will be back up in St. Paul where they’ll hang out while I’m in France. Gerry and his mom will be here in Rochester. I’m hoping to swing a visit to the State Fair for the kids & Gayle on 8/31 , before I leave, and so we can use the Prairie Home Companion tickets I bought SO many weeks ago!
I swear, by the time this is over I should have earned my general’s stars for organization!
I’m trying to put the finishing touches on an interfaith essay that’s due tomorrow. I try to write from outside myself – disinterestedly? – when I write about interfaith issues. It’s hard to look at yourself, your life decisions, from the inside out – but it’s the way that makes the most sense to me. It’s not that I don’t get personal – I do – but not in the same vein as I do for the blog.
Here at my blog I can just rant and write – things don’t have to make sense – but often they end up in some kind of nice resolution.
When I write about my own experiences with interfaith marriage, or conversion, or raising my kids as Jews I need to be aware that what I write may have a strong impact on any member of Gerry’s family. I need to be careful – while at the same time try to explain my position as honestly as I can. The best way I’ve found to achieve this is to try to write as though I’m looking at my life from the outside in.
Sometimes writing about writing is the kiss of death – that whole brain-getting-in-the-way thing that I talk about in m classes. Our brains are so powerful – we are so brilliant – that we can stymie ourselves when we try to rein our brains into one specific direction. Especially when we’re just at the point of a huge leap – but fearfully stop ourselves (and sometimes crash!)
I’ve come to believe that intuition is earned by a lifetime of experience, observation and reflection. It’s the power to take the reins off the brain so that we’re not trying to quantify every tiny thing as we process it. It’s accepting our own natural brilliance and letting ourselves trust our brains to know where they’re going. Easier said than done.
So my in-the-zone method of writing about something so personal as my own spiritual journey is my attempt to find an intuitive way to explain one woman’s walk in the general direction of Judiasm.
Of course, I equate everything with knitting – which could be seen as a slap in the fact to Judiasm OR to knitting, but I see it as a compliment to both – and that route has limited appeal.