There is something to be said for waking up WITHOUT a rock hard neck and the dizzies that go with it.
Whew. FInally. It's still sore but it is flexible and I can move it without feeling like I'm in one of those upside down-all around machines at the Puyallup Fair. Thanks for Cheryl, the wunder-massage therapist. And to Mother Time. And several night of 11 hours of sleep. Made for very interesting starts to the day in FIrst-Grade land right up till about, oh say, 11 am, when I would really wake up.
It has been a week of hard work, cozy evenings by the fire, a few walks out in the rain and dark with Mr. Fraidy Cat. Last night, he discovered that there is a puzzle painting above the couch with two Sheltie puppies on it. It's been there his whole life, most of mine in this cabin. The growling, jumping sideways, the posturing, the "Mom-what-is it-come-and-get-it-or-make-it-right-cause-it's weirding-me-out-dance about had me peeing my pj's. Same dance and stance with the pieces of wood I moved in the backyard, the pile of dirt left by the landscapers, the recycling cart not put exactly back in the same spot and order and even, me, wearing a different bathrobe when I get out of the shower! It's a phase, I'm reassured, but it makes for interesting walks and life around here. I wonder what he will do today when he finds out I have given him a new waterbowl while I clean the other one.
Here are some pieces of writing I gleaned from Forest Lover by SUe Vreeland. If you haven't read this, it is luscious, meaningful, connective writing about a woman-painter who really lived, Emily Carr from British Columbia at the turn of the 20th century. This book has really spoken to me, twice. Even more so now after having been to Iona. I am planning a trip back to the Skeena Valley and maybe to the Queen Charlotte Islands. It is now a UNESCO site.

"When she'd been troubled as a girl, she'd taken her hurt outside, had lain with her face pressed down to earth's cool green cheek, smelled her fresh perfumes, and tried to feel earth's buried heart-throb. If only that would be enough for her now."--Emily.

"The interior. It's so deep and quiet and still. It could heal a person, body and soul. I get a sense of some presence breathing there. God's too big to be squeezed into a stuffy church, but I feel Him in the spaces between the trees."--Emily

"Dede loved her tea. She called it her cup of you-and-me..."

"Soul is energy."--Emily

"Hailat, they murmured. Hailat. What's that mean? she asked Henry. He held up his hands and wiggled his chubby fingers. "Person with spirit power in the hands."---one of the First Nations people's description of Emily and what she does with her painting of the totem poles, carvings, canoes, spirit boxes, and native villages

And there are more. I like having books to read like this one. Just started Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd. Not too far into it yet. WIll spend most of the day on yardwork, housework, and schoolwork, and Squishy play-time. Then book-group tonight.

And I'm in a little bit of heaven I had forgotten about. Someone gave me some apricot toothpaste to try and Mom gave me some of her mustard pickle. My whoo-hoo dance wasn't so different from Mr. Fraidy when I popped that open as soon as I got home into the kitchen.:) Except I wasn't growling. My mouth was full!