It’s a beauty day — just stunning and the snow is almost gone. My yard, a green carpet, looks rich and warm and promising. Please let that be the end of Winter!
Friends/readers notice how happy I am in my posts. It’s true, I am exquisitely happy here. But it ain’t all roses — just an FYI. I’ve been having a rough time for two weeks; unable to speak to friends lately when they call. Dwight Facetime-ed last night and I couldn’t speak to him. I even had a seizure trying. But when it hurts, I know I am “growing.”
I’m growing in my understanding of myself and the implications of my condition. I began treatment thinking I had a speech disorder; I’ve leaving understanding myself as dominated/restricted by a seizure disorder with protocols to which it’s in my best interest to adhere.
I’ll skip the brief paragraph of self-pity that might have gone here. Instead, I’ll head off to the hot tub with some morning chocolate.
Fred broke one of my most beautiful and expensive pieces of glass. I confess: I yelled at him. Then I went to Ethel for comfort and Fred came over too. I melted. He’s such a charmer.
“It’s just an object,” I said to myself. It has no soul. And then I threw Fred in the fire.
No I didn’t; I glued the tiny bowl back together as best I could.
I searched for the incredibly encouraging comments from Rachel about my play and can only find one. There were three — plus her email saying my script had been recommended for their ReACT program. This is the one I found: “This is just brilliant, Chris! Truly.” Thankfully, if I apply myself, I can find the missing ones on my blog.
Before I give up, I’m going to write to the new artistic director for one last kick at the can because I cannot think of any other producer and my play needs a space with two separate play areas as their BMO Theatre has.
Darrell will get back to work on the porch tomorrow. That excites me. Tuesday I go to Vancouver and my penultimate appointment with Dr. Shoja. Wednesday Rob comes for an overnight visit. I’m really excited about that.