metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Who knows There was a time when I would wear only natural fibers. Nothing polyester would touch my precious skin. No more. Some of my favorite clothes are SOOOO man made, and probably out of old, shredded soft drink bottles.... I love my microfiber tee's. They look great under a blazer and I can wash them and dry them and forget them in the dryer and let them sit for days, wrinkling and wrinkling and then remember them, pull them out and put them on and the wrinkles go away. Try that with 100% cotton. My heart is still connected to linen, however. Linen holds my heart. I will buy linen at a moments notice. I like linen crisp, but I like it more after I have laundered it a few times. It becomes soft and comfy, like the skin I should have been born with. A loose fitting linen skin-suit. Of course, the wrinkles are there. But, I am willing to look charmingly rumpled as long as I am wearing my linen. And I do look charmingly rumpled and not just an over 50 lady in wrinkly clothes, dammit. Sheets, of course, must be 100% cotton. I like them crisp, white and smelling of lavender. My mother had a friend, Floris, who would starch and iron her sheets, spraying them with lavender water. I still remember the nights I slept over at Floris' house, being tucked into a sweet smelling, crisp white bed in a dark and quiet room. It was perfection. I think I went right to sleep, an anomaly for me as a child. I was a true night owl, holding my eyes open with my fingers when they were too tired to stay open by themselves. Because, hell, I did not want to miss anything. So, cotton for sheets. Linen for anything. And microfiber for all. Amen. My sister in law called to suggest my bother (heee! a typo. I mean bRother, but maybe a Freudian slip rather than a typo, oui?) fly back with us after the big wedding shit in Cali in May. I have reservations about the whole thing. I have issues. I have been asking him to come visit me for years, to no avail. Now, he wants to come. I will be using all my accrued vacation time to go to Cali and do the wedding thing. If he does come back with me, I will not be able to visit much with him. He will be alone in the house from 7:30 am to 5:30 pm. He is 73, just had a stroke and has emphysema. I live rurally, it takes over 20 minutes for the ambulance to make it there. I am concerned about his being alone all day with no company in case there were a medical emergency. I am so conflicted about this. I will have to pray about it, but I just feel it is not a good time for the visit. I fear his faculties are not what they once were and I do not even know if he can BE alone, without supervision at this point. He is a shadow of the person he once was. When I talk to him, it is not as deep a connection as we had before. I do not believe he is even able to connect that deeply anymore. I think that part of his brain is inaccesssible now. I would also be concerned about his return trip, alone. Could he navigate through the airport? All these questions, unknowns. K supports anything I want, but shares all of my concerns. He DOES owe me for the gauntlet I ran for his family last year. He owes me BIG TIME. I am not so much in a funk as I was yesterday. Foot is still healing, getting sore in different places, getting better in others. What a long, drawn-out piece of shit recovery is. I am still in a funk, just not as far in as yesterday. I have a CD with Italian Mandoline music -- Funiculi, Funicula among others -- I put it in the player in the car yesterday and it kind of perked me up. I tried to put it in today, but K and I were car-pooling and he said NO!! I was humming that shit all day the other day when you put it in. I laughed. Then I sang the first notes to Funiculi-Funicula and he panicked and said "STOP!!!!". So I could not play it this morning. Wah. Son is coming tomorrow to help K do some things around the house. It will be good to see him. Fiance is not coming. I don't think she enjoys our company much. I don't even know if she likes us much. I don't know if it is a function of the Bipolar thing, or if she is just an anti-social snob. There are many things I do not know. Perhaps I will never know. Is is important to know these things? I don't even know that. I know I will not say anything to son about it. He is stressed enough with the wedding coming up, etc. Besides, it would not help anything, and just cause uncomfortable feelings. So. OK. K's brother the ass is coming over too. I am pondering telling him what an ass he is and what a cunt his wife is. Yes. Cunt. I reserve this distasteful word for the very lowest of lows of bottom feeding scum of the earth. She fully deserves the designation. In fact, she is probably the very worst in all my 54 years of living. So, cunt it is, and probably should be with a capital 'C'. I don't know if I will bother telling him I think he is an ass. I will just play it by ear. I feel like telling him we are planning a big birthday party for his brother on Sunday and let him think he was not invited. Like I invited him last year to a little gathering for K's birthday and he said there was a party in his neighborhood he would rather attend. So fuck him. I do not like people who hurt people I love. So fuck him. K was very hurt by the fact his own brother would not come over for his birthday. So fuck him. He is a self-centered, lying, manipulating alcoholic. So fuck him. I will just wing it and if the opportunity arises for me to let him know he is an ass, I will. If not, I won't go out of my way. Cause, fuck him, that's why. I uninstalled Civ III at work here. I am actually doing what they pay me to do, today. heh. So, I think that is a good thing. I feel pretty proud of my fucked up self. Pretty damn proud. 9:33 a.m. - 2004-03-12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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