20 august 2001 -
26 august 2001
 
 
 
 
     
24 august 2001
 

Tonsil update: ummm... not pretty.

The right one is about the size of a matzo ball. And with about the same consistency, as far as I can tell from poking at it with a black lacquered chopstick. It's decorated with these swirly stripes of white ulcers or something else equally disgusting which makes it look a lot like the rubber ball Krista and I picked up off the ground on our walk to the National Cathedral a few weeks ago. I've moved the flashlight from my bedside table to the bathroom, which is never a good sign in cases like these.

My day oscillated between editing the veteran's claims process for spina bifida benefits and sticking my tongue out in front of the medicine cabinet's mirror. And somewhere in the middle, I managed to take a very relaxing bath and drink some prescribed double bergamot Earl Grey with honey.

Your basic sick stuff.

 
 
23 august 2001
 

I could just kiss Bookstore-turned-Random-House-Publishing Michael. His simple gestures tend to leave me breathless and tingly and giddy with anticipation.

This one is no exception.

Big big big big big big thanks, Michael. You rock my world.

 
 
22 august 2001
 

Tonight I made Todd show the video he took of my last day at MEDITECH. The play-by-play commentary of all the toys in our cube. The I-Spy secret camera following Bob and his capri length pants up the stairs of the parking garage to my car, pinwheel blowing furiously in front of his face. Those first true moments of freedom when I realized I would never have to go back there again.

It's fun to relive that kind of liberating change. Thinking about that first morning after. Waking up to my own body clock. Tea and books in bed. Watching the cool March sun filter in through the living room window. Knowing now all the things I could only dream of then.

Tonight was about the kind of reflection inspired by dramatic change. The upheaval that, even now, continues to spin me round and round and toss me into the deep. Every moment breeding a realization. Every breath turning into a gasp. Time stretched and pulled and bathed in meaning. A year in the life that's suddenly large.

 
 
2001:08:24:22:19
2001:08:24:21:31
2001:08:22:19:25
2001:08:21:19:43
 
 
24 august 2001
23 august 2001
22 august 2001