img 11 Feb. 2009
I’m preparing for a Valentine’s Craft  Show, and here’s a handmade Heart   Journal, only 8 pages, but I love how it came out. It’s mostly paper, with a filmy, flower-embroidered bridal-like fabric sewn over the picture. I’ll probably sell it for $7.

Tonight in the lobby of the Fairmount Street branch, Davenport, Iowa library, my son Nate let his inner tiger loose, and yelled and screamed because I caught him bending some rules we’d set up for his library visit today.

Meantime hovering in the background was the witch Friendly Librarian, who reports on Nate’s library visits (when he’s there without me) which are usually a list of things he’s done wrong, but not what we’d consider “wrong” had a child done them, or perhaps one of the homeless men who spend large portions of their day there, or any one of us sane, rational, grown-up, adult-like people.

I, for example, must admit shamefaced, that I gave the woman who answered the phone in a city office, a very difficult time late last week, over a bill. Actually I wasn’t very rational at the time, suffering my inner demons. When I hung up, I felt like hanging my head in remorse, and then felt sorry for the woman who’d dealt with me. I stayed off the phone the rest of the day. Why make others suffer my own bad mood?

So now back to Nate…what to do. There I was talking quietly to him so he’d lower his own volume, which wasn’t working. And I was ignoring the witch Friendly Librarian hovering somewhere behind me, because I wasn’t in the mood for her “List Of Nate’s Faults.”

Then Nate did something very unexpected, unlike him, and completely astounding. He looked past me and gave Friendly Librarian a finger. It happened so quickly I can’t tell you if it was THE FINGER, or not. He’d just spent part of his library time with a bunch of teens, gaming. Hmm. Despite his Down syndrome, he’s remarkably able to copy most anything, whether he understands what he’s doing or not.

Sigh. Some days are better spent in bed with an intriguing story, handfuls of chocolate, and a warm kitty curled on my feet. Why didn’t I have a psychic moment this morning and stay in bed?

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