A busy week, it was.

I took a grant proposal class on Saturday. A great class, intense, interesting. Woke up those “change the world” demons that I pretend I don’t have. I was meddling in everybody’s stuff all week. The one lesson that I took away from the class was to work small, to keep the problem small, to look at one little bit of the problem. Keep it simple, in other words.

Boy, I suck at that.

Daughter and I went to Duluth Saturday night to stay in a hotel with a long-time friend of mine. She surprised us by bringing along her – my other* – daughter. I can imagine what people were thinking. “Oh, look. Two women with their not-quite-accurate clones.” It was great. We stayed up till three in the morning talking. We ate good food that we didn’t have to cook, and finished it off with pumpkin shakes from Culvers. We stood around and took pictures of each other. A real world moment that I’ve been needing for a long time. Three, four years at least.

Thursday I went to see my not-so-local but awesome nurse practitioner lady this week, about fatigue. “Vitamins!” she says. “More water!” she says. But as she’s poking around, (prodding all those little tender points that no longer hurt thanks to the anti-depressants unless you poke them! Stop!) she says, “Your shoulders are incredibly tight. How do you feel about physical therapy?” After my squeals of delight died down, she said “I’m really fond of traction, myself.” We shared a bonding moment.

I was telling Daughter about it, and how excited I was, randomly exclaiming “Traction!” for several hours, until I realized; I have become Morticia.

The sun is shining today after a week of me singing, “The sun will come out tomorrow.” Haven’t seen it since last Sunday, when it looked like this;

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We watched sailboats in the canal, spinning in circles to hold their position waiting for the bridge deck to go up. Someday I’ll be on one of them, or some other ship sailing. I don’t know how yet. Maybe this way. I get shivery just thinking about it.

*Looking back at the weekend and Other Daughter makes me reconsider my long-cherished belief that humans aren’t a controlled experiment. Or maybe I should just put it down to “there’s more than one right answer.” Whatever. It was great.

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