Recursive; or, Damn Dirty Grapes


Last weekend’s ice cream was chocolate malt. I am starting to think that these recipes have a wee little bit too much salt for me, in general. But it’s still good. I’m buying the nice cream in glass bottles, which I also use for piima yogurt and such.

Egg in sugar and malt powder and chocolates.

It was a really nice weekend in that way that people go crazy about here–upper 70s, overcast. I am worried about the tomatoes. A cold snap now that they are on the vine and green will turn them into mealy pulp.

Franny’s back for two weeks. She was weird for a couple of days, like a little satellite who had ranged too far out on her tether. I am glad she was gone for almost a month. If she was here all the time, we would have moved on, but it seems like kind of a reset. We are still talking some about what happened at the end of the year with her grades and the Japan trip and the mood she was in at the end of the eighth grade. I think she was just way outgrowing that nest.

So she seemed a little aloof and distant at first but seems to have settled in. I feel bad about how hard it’s always been for her to transition from two different lives.

“The floors are so clean here!” she said. They are not super clean, but they are free of toys.

She said she had a marvelous time with her dad and I believe it. She said he seems calm and like he has his shit together now. It takes some people a really long time to grow up. I grew up fast but it took me a long time to realize I was human, too. I happened to come outside when SeaFed was dropping her off and I always feel so irritated when I see him because he looks so old now, which means I do too. This is not about vanity but mortality.

I’m home today. I wanted to work every day this month but I didn’t make it. I woke up with a pain on the back of my head like I’d been hit with something. My lymph nodes are huge back there, like olives, and I’m just off. It’s not like a normal headache that feels like it comes from inside your brain somewhere or like a band squeezing. It’s like my actual head aches.

I’m giving it a little time, because I need a little time, and then I am going to dive back into the world of doctors and testing. People ask me about my health and I say, “It’s fine.” I cannot say how I’m really feeling all the time. They say they’re glad I’m feeling better and I nod. This is how the transaction goes, I think. I cannot pretend I am getting better, though, and no amount of taking care of myself or altering my diet seems to be completely licking it. I’ll make an appointment for after Twin Peaks.

I’m going off of some medication to get myself to flare up again. I know for the next round of testing I will need to have accurate inflammation levels. I’m dreading this. I cannot go back on steroids. I know I was on too high of a dose, but I really don’t want that look into my id again. I have this pattern of some life-changing event and then I get what I am afraid is a look into who I really am. I don’t like what I find there. It’s an asshole who likes to wear fringed leather jackets.

I don’t want my life to be about being ill. Some days I cannot bend over because of my joints and I feel afraid. I need to figure out how to be unafraid again.

Franny was saying the wants to see the new Planet of the Apes movie that’s out now. I think I would rather eat ground glass than sit in a theatre right now, so I offered to show her the original at home. I think Charlton Heston is appropriate for any season, but especially summer. We have now watched the first two and the girls have made me promise to show them ALL FIVE this month.

I always enjoy watching movies with them. I had Strudel convinced that she had misread the title and that it was Planet of the Grapes, and it was all about winemaking.

A thirteen-year-old hath given me a mani-pedi during Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

I am counting down to going out of town, but not too far away. I am really looking forward to taking a trip in the Elco. FDR had mineral springs, I have an El Camino with a couch for a seat. I have a long history of traveling alone and sometimes it’s horrible but usually it’s fine. It’s always transformative, at least, which is what I need right now.

9 thoughts on “Recursive; or, Damn Dirty Grapes

  1. Hugs. There is a double bed in guest room at the beach house, and my parents would be happy to have you in it. There is even a small dog to terrorize you, and a rowboat.

  2. I am so sorry you are still feeling shite. Having to go off the meds and know you are going to feel even worse is some scary shit and you are brave in my book.

    Sherilyn Fenn and Wendy Robie are going to be at Twin Peak Fest this year?!? And it’s sold out?! That is going to be wild. Wiiilld! Pictures, please. I think Robie’s performance in Twin Peaks is legendary. Don’t be creepy, but try to smell Sherilyn for me? I’ve always imagined she smells like baby powder and lily of the valley. (I am totally kidding. Do not try to smell Sherilyn.)

    I know it’s not vanity, but you look bettah than evah, dahhhlink.

  3. I am feeling your frustration at being ill a lot. Having your body react in a way you deem unacceptable is pretty scary because it’s unknown. Keep taking good care of yourself.

  4. Being ill sucks. It’s especially bad when it’s chronic or of an unknown cause. *gentle hugs*

    I love that picture of you and Strudel. You look super cute. :)

  5. Ack, I knew I should have read this before sending you an owl scroll. I hope your flare-up experience goes by quickly. I’m glad you’re talking about how your feeling so people who care about you know. This whole being sick for some unknown reason thing is scary and sucky and I’m sorry. I will be sending you love and affection through the ether. It may not heal you, but I hope it helps you feel better. XO

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