Sanctuary

(Be sure to read all the way through for some big news.)

Is it Thursday? I woke up a week ago today feeling first as though I had stomach poisoning, and then realized I had a flu bug. Since Zelda had been writhing in unhappiness the week before with some nasty virus, our schedules had been entirely boofed. Then I spent all day last Thursday sweating and in pain.

Friday I felt much better, only now it was Toni's turn. Our trip to Athens to introduce Orson to her family had to be put off another day.

We did get out on Saturday morning, our first long car trip for four, and everyone was in good spirits. I hope this is a trend.

My in-laws place in Athens has long been a sanctuary for me, really dating back to late 1994 when they took me in, no questions asked, even though the situations surrounding the origins of mine and Toni's relationship were ... awkward. Yes, let's say awkward and leave it there.

The Wolfs have an old farm house, which dates back to the Civil War (or at least the very core of the building does) which has a decor you would expect from old hippies/bikers. It's cozy and funky and I've always felt welcome there.

It has been disappointing of late that I have been stressed out the past few times we have visited. In September, at Toni's grandfather Calvin's memorial service, our diaper bag was swiped, in which we had placed wallets, sunglasses, a digital camera. At the holidays, Toni was ill and we had to stay a day or so longer than planned - and I had nothing to read. I was a cranky boy.

Toni's mom, Connie, is probably (okay, not probably) the person closest to us in our grief over Calvin's death. She has shown this in a remarkable number of ways over the years. Bringing our bags in on Saturday, I noticed a special arrangment under the staircase.

There was a mirror, and the little rocking chair - perfect for tiny butts like Zelda's and before hers Toni's and Connie's - and a little altar. A clock. An otter. And Grandfather Calvin's ashes.

What a sweet, sweet little arrangement. Thank you, Con. We love you so much.

This trip was very, very relaxing. And I read an entire book, Forever by Pete Hamill (not to be confused with the one by Judy Blume.) Many, I have just be eating books this year. I think I am trying to intimidate myself into writing something. In fact, I know that's what I am doing.

I really enjoyed this book. Weird, I don't want to say anything about it at all, because I don't want anyone else to know what happens in it the way I did. I heard about it when it came out and finally got around to reading it. I was driven to complete it in a short period of time the way I rarely am, probably because knowing (in a way) how it ends, or more precisely, when it ends, filled everything that came before with a poignancy (there's that word) that would have otherwise been missing.

Hmn. That's a reason to tell people what happens in the book. I am perplexed.

But, unlike, say, That Davinci Book, Hamill's novel is filled with interesting characters, and a story that is compelling and a message that I respond to. "More life," as they say.

And it is a novel that doesn't make me despise all things Irish, which is truly a feat.

What is up with Alanis Morrisette releasing a tenth anniversary, acoustic version of Ragged Little Pill? Can you think of a more pathetic admission of defeat?

Anyhow,it was a lovely, extended weekend. Zelda got to run around naked pretty much 24/7, and everyone got to meet the newbie. There's about a million things I need to cover at work before summer camp starts on Monday, and no one in the house is sick, in what feels like a very long time.

Oh, and here's the big news: I HATE THIS will be featured as part of the 2006 Perinatal Bereavement Conference, October 12 - 15, 2006 in Chicago, IL. I first heard there was such a thing shortly after performing the staged reading in Aug., 2002. It is bi-annual, and I biffed the chance to be in the 2004 conference in Las Vegas. It's very exciting to finally have this opportunity.

And Chicago? I love Chicago!