“Rich man can ride and the hobo he can drown
But I thank the Lord for the people I have found;
I thank the Lord for the people I have found
While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky…
But they can’t and that is why
They know not if it’s dark outside or light.”
~ Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters, Elton John
I have not felt like writing.
I’ve been playing online poker and sending out (mostly Christmas) cards,
playing with stickers & markers like a kid
listening to (new to me) old music from the early 70s
(Genesis and Elton John, their really old stuff…)
I’ve been staying up way later than I used to
and trying to unravel the sticky red tape of Medicaid
and trusting it shall be unraveled, soon & successfully.
I’ve been dreaming of the Pacific sun over the Big Island
and not thinking about Jonah’s (4th) eye operation on Monday.
Perhaps some pictures. I’m just so very tired.
He looks like a pissed off mini-Beatle in this photo. And, more and more I think, in pictures you can tell his left eye looks so different from his right eye. Evidently he has just had a haircut, and S, one of his direct care workers, says he is muy bonito. (She speaks Spanish and if I had kept up with my Rosetta Stone, so would I). I can’t wait to see him on Saturday. I couldn’t go last week because I had the kind of migraine where you puke 8 or 10 times and lay there in the bed in between, twisting and pushing your face into the pillow to seek comfort, cushion, relief. Anything, anything. I was so desperate. I’d never hold up under torture.
Jonah is high-fiving E, one of the kick-ass caregivers; she keeps track of all his records and she advocates, smiles, hugs, and is generally awesome. Plus she and J drive him to and from many doctor appointments. Here they are at Jonah’s recent glaucoma doc.
I took this (nothing really happens) video sitting next to Jonah in the backseat of car ride. You can see how all around his lips are chapped (we took care of that in a few days with some Burt’s Bees) and he is rhythmically rocking to some Top-40 song Andy has on the radio she said disdainfully. I like when he gets all smiley and turns toward the window. By the end he reminds me of Carl from Slingblade.
Manzo likes to be inside boxes and bags. The bag is appropriately from the World Wildlife Foundation. <– Just as I typed that M opened the door to let Jack out and Manzo scooted out as well, jumping the fence into our next door neighbor’s yard immediately. I am trying not to panic because I know we can’t catch him if he doesn’t want to be caught, and it’s cold out so he should come back in.
Damn it though.
The Never Normal 