Skip to main content

CIT--Day Seventeen.

Or so I believe.

I'm unbelievable tired right now so don't expect witty from me in this post. Expect the opposite with lots of spelling and grammatical errors tossed in for good measure. Lance will read this tomorrow and correct my mistakes.

Off to the hospital and waiting for the therapists to show up. Last night Ash got a pretty green addition to her cast---green duct tape!




Then it was off in the elevator with her pal and fellow CIT camper, Devon.




Hubby and I took off for the parent resource room where I'd managed to secure him a massage for his birthday after all. Well, a day late but hey. She said we could split it in half--half for me, half for him, but I said no. He needed it and I wanted him to feel good.

After things were getting near the end we went downstairs to secure a table in the cafeteria because that place is insane at noon. Lance held on to the table while I went to check on Ashley. She was painting!




I could tell they'd been drawing before that because there were drawings covering the entire room.

I'll post some of those later.

For now....here are more painting pics




And....



There are more but I can't find them. I'll get them later.

We got a table because cousin Trudy came to see us and give Lance a sweet birthday present. We all enjoyed a bit of lunch and then Ashley got comfy with her daddy.




It was wonderful to see Trudi---we need to see her more often. I feel badly that we don't spend enough time with family. Well, some parts of family.

At any rate, it was off to home, then laundry and dishes and cooking and then to Young Women's at church and meeting up with my brother to put some oil in the suburban and well...I'm tired.

G'nite.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Poem to an Abusive Man

I've been doing a bit of research on abuse, domestic violence and how it usually ends. It's not pretty and it's painful and I hurt every time I read another woman's tale of horror.

Did you know that emotional abuse is as detrimental as physical abuse? And that most emotional abusers continue on to become physical abusers? I didn't. I do now. I found a site where formerly abused women, on the path to recovery from their abusers, have written poems. This one below is one that haunted me.

Thank You

You wooed me with poetry
I bit on the hook
Had I only first read
The name of the book

I would have avoided
The very first page
For pages kept turning
Revealing the rage

The ups were a great high
The ride was a bash
But I rode with my eyes closed
To avoid seeing the crash
I knew it would come soon
But I never knew when
The rage and the leaving
And the path to the end

You had to control things
Determined you would
Emotionally destroying me
Every way that you could

I'll Love You Forever, I'll Like You For Always...

I rely on the kindness of strangers...

Or not so much strangers as readers of my miserable blog.

I received a beautiful card in the mail from my long-tine reader (perhaps my ONLY reader) that lifted my heart. Thank you, G. Parkes. It was kind of you to think of me. Seriously---you are so sweet. Thank you.

Perhaps we can meet in person one day. I'll be in Utah after Conference. We'll see how it goes.

I've been caring for my autistic grandson since July. It seems longer sometimes---and that's not a complaint. I adore this little man. He holds my heart. He fills my arms and my heart in the way that my own small babies used to do. When mine reached the age where they didn't want to be in my arms any longer, I felt their absence. Their absence from my arms was heavier than actually having them in my arms. It was an ache that is difficult to describe, a phantom pain where something once was but now is no longer.

Before my husband and I went to the cabin th…

I'm Sick. And the election isn't helping.

I spoke too soon about feeling better. My grandson was delightful enough to share his virus with me, so I've spent the past five days losing everything from both ends. It hasn't been pretty.

As a weight loss program though...

At least one end of me has stopped spewing. Now I wait for the other end to stop pretending to be filled with hot lava and erupting without much notice. Sorry, this is what is called over-sharing. Apparently I'm very good at it. You're welcome.

Last night I walked around the block with hubby and our adorable puppy. It was the first time I've been out of the house in five days. It was lovely, even though I was very shaky. Today I actually tried to accomplish something. I sat at my jewelry table, moved my seaglass around. Picked up pieces and played them through my hands. Such beautfy that came from something considered useless garbage and tossed away. I love my sea glass. It gives me the happies.

I also had a severe case of J…