Medieval History
Sometimes the reminders of the above are incredibly swift. Iris had a bicycle accident yesterday - in the strangeness that follows, we spent five hours in the emergency room, were under lockdown for an altercation in the waiting room, had conversations about stitches vs. gluing, and in the end she came home around 11 p.m. with three stitches in her mouth and a very swollen face. But her head and her nose and her chin are fine - a chipped tooth in the front we can deal with later. Baby Pink Dragon and Her Friend the Little Girl made a re-appearance from last year and sustained us for the duration. I always think that kids are incredibly brave anyway, and Iris's quiet confrontation with what was going on was humbling. Stitches are simple and efficacious and utterly unnerving, too. These will dissolve after a week or two. In the meantime, I can feed her through a syringe, and I'm going to try to not worry about how swollen everything is. This feeding is both a careful and heartbreaking act and has her as my little little one all over again. She can't talk either, and the quiet is very strange. Time and space shift with events like these and the realizations they provoke. Things aren't unrelated. The respite from fear for the health of a friend has ended with some difficult news yesterday. We make plans to gather, just somehow to be together. Here at home, Iris and I are staying close and thinking far away: we've drawn pictures from David Stein's garden (it's in Brittany and is apparently growing pumpkins) and from that room in the Children's Museum in Indianapolis where you can make machines (ever working on that perfume dispensing machine for cars) - we've also played a significant amount of UNO and now, Madagascar 2 is doing the trick. I see her powering down into the pain. Rest is what I start to hope for. The fragility of goodness puts things into suspended animation. You're waiting for the next thing, for some certitude you can either fight or embrace.
- Strange Quiet
Indiana Wind FarmI always know that I have about 15 miles left on the highway when I start to see these gentle giants - enormous windmills turning thickly and slowly in the wind while we scurry by in our tiny metal contraptions. They seem airy and...
- Happy Birthday, Iris
Iris in Paris, FranceMy little woman turned 8 today. She who reads biographies now, and snuggles into bed with her Big Book of Science at night. She who brings ailing family members bread and a banana because they're good for you, now...
- Very Sad
A.-F. Desportes, Dog and Pheasant, 1780sThis painting has always reminded me of Sawyer: change the coat to black and elongate the tail, and there's our hound.Was. I'm so sad to write that we've decided to find another home for Sawyer. ...
- Fragments
Arma Christ. Musée Jacquemart-André, ParisIn the 10 minutes before I need to start gathering the kids from their play dates, I think that I can put into words why writing has eluded me of late. I've wanted to everyday, but the balance of navel gazing...
- Funky Peace
When in D.C. at the fabulous National Art Gallery, knowing there's an Arcimboldo show your mom can't wait to take you to, and having just been through the awesome kid section of the gift shop, what else is there to do but don your funky hologram...
Medieval History
The Fragility of Goodness
Sometimes the reminders of the above are incredibly swift. Iris had a bicycle accident yesterday - in the strangeness that follows, we spent five hours in the emergency room, were under lockdown for an altercation in the waiting room, had conversations about stitches vs. gluing, and in the end she came home around 11 p.m. with three stitches in her mouth and a very swollen face. But her head and her nose and her chin are fine - a chipped tooth in the front we can deal with later. Baby Pink Dragon and Her Friend the Little Girl made a re-appearance from last year and sustained us for the duration. I always think that kids are incredibly brave anyway, and Iris's quiet confrontation with what was going on was humbling. Stitches are simple and efficacious and utterly unnerving, too. These will dissolve after a week or two. In the meantime, I can feed her through a syringe, and I'm going to try to not worry about how swollen everything is. This feeding is both a careful and heartbreaking act and has her as my little little one all over again. She can't talk either, and the quiet is very strange. Time and space shift with events like these and the realizations they provoke. Things aren't unrelated. The respite from fear for the health of a friend has ended with some difficult news yesterday. We make plans to gather, just somehow to be together. Here at home, Iris and I are staying close and thinking far away: we've drawn pictures from David Stein's garden (it's in Brittany and is apparently growing pumpkins) and from that room in the Children's Museum in Indianapolis where you can make machines (ever working on that perfume dispensing machine for cars) - we've also played a significant amount of UNO and now, Madagascar 2 is doing the trick. I see her powering down into the pain. Rest is what I start to hope for. The fragility of goodness puts things into suspended animation. You're waiting for the next thing, for some certitude you can either fight or embrace.
- Strange Quiet
Indiana Wind FarmI always know that I have about 15 miles left on the highway when I start to see these gentle giants - enormous windmills turning thickly and slowly in the wind while we scurry by in our tiny metal contraptions. They seem airy and...
- Happy Birthday, Iris
Iris in Paris, FranceMy little woman turned 8 today. She who reads biographies now, and snuggles into bed with her Big Book of Science at night. She who brings ailing family members bread and a banana because they're good for you, now...
- Very Sad
A.-F. Desportes, Dog and Pheasant, 1780sThis painting has always reminded me of Sawyer: change the coat to black and elongate the tail, and there's our hound.Was. I'm so sad to write that we've decided to find another home for Sawyer. ...
- Fragments
Arma Christ. Musée Jacquemart-André, ParisIn the 10 minutes before I need to start gathering the kids from their play dates, I think that I can put into words why writing has eluded me of late. I've wanted to everyday, but the balance of navel gazing...
- Funky Peace
When in D.C. at the fabulous National Art Gallery, knowing there's an Arcimboldo show your mom can't wait to take you to, and having just been through the awesome kid section of the gift shop, what else is there to do but don your funky hologram...