DELIGHT DOES NOT MAKE THE HEART CHILDISH

11 of 100

5 de fevrier

Another morning wherein I had a lot of ideas about writing. Clearly, given that it is 10:00pm, that did not come to pass. Whatever philosophy I planned to impart has disappeared in the washes of the day. Cannot remember a single thing.

I've come to realize that Fox is actually Fred Flintstone. If not Fred, then one of those other demanding, hollering tv husbands of yesteryear. Whenever he comes into the house, he starts yelling for food or who knows what. I know he thinks of me as Wilma. I think that constant miaouing is one of the reason I have a certain level of disdain for him. I know this is not rational as he is a cat, but I can only handle so many demanding beings at a time.

When I was growing up, I thought marriages were like the Kramdens or the Flintstones. I thought it was acceptable for men to come in yelling and demeaning to the left and to the right. Janet had to disabuse me of the notion that it was okay for husbands to hit wives. My father was not much of a yeller and certainly not physically abusive, but he could demean in subtle and unsubtle ways. 

Janet's birthday was pretty good. Christina, Patrick, and I took her to The Bread Lounge in the LA Arts District. Very good pastry. Very good tuna salad. Very good bread. Cool place. Janet insisted on singing Happy Birthday to herself. The whole restaurant joined in and then clapped for her. Whereupon she shouted that she was 96 and could stand on her head. Instead, she tried to put her foot behind her ear. She didn't manage it, but she did a better job than the vast majority of us. Of course, at this moment, the very thought of that makes me wince.

100 people on FB wished her happy birthday including famous people Dave Alvin, cartoonist Mimi Pond, and director Tim Hunter. Probably more than I will get.

There's a big week of physical therapy, doctor's appointments and such this week and it is getting on late, although I am pretty interested in the Bernie Madoff documentary on Netflix. I don't think I did a single chore today, save laundry, cat feeding, and finding my car registration sticker. 

GLISTENING

As I pull the bucket from the crude well,

the water changes from dark to a light

more silver than the sun. When I pour it

over my body that is standing in the dust

by the oleander bush, it sparkles easily

in the sunlight with an earnestness like

the spirit close up. The water magnifies

the sun all along the length of it.

Love is not less because of the spirit.

Delight does not make the heart childish.

We thought the blood thinned, our weight

lessened, that our substance was reduced

by simple happiness. The oleander is thick

with leaves and flowers because of spilled

water. Let the spirit marry the heart.

When I return naked to the stone porch,

there is no one to see me glistening.

But I look at the almond tree with its husks

cracking open in the heat. I look down

the whole mountain to the sea. Goats bleating

faintly and sometimes bells. I stand there

a long time with the sun and the quiet,

the earth moving slowly as I dry in the light.

— Linda Gregg, The Sacraments of Desire, Graywolf Press, Saint Paul, Minnesota, 1991