Stuff

Won has had a low-grade fever for the past couple of days. With a butt rash, drooling, waking in the middle of the night, and not wanting to brush his teeth, I'd bet he's getting those two year molars.

He has gone to sleep the past two nights without me in his bed. It's much better to have a sore heiny from sitting on hardwood than being kicked in the kidneys, any day.

Hubbie says I'm obsessed with writing - hunting and pecking he calls it. It's probably because every time I'm near the computer he says "what are you doing?" as if it's something I shouldn't be doing.

Writing is helping me to get stuff off of my chest - for good - so I'm going to keep doing it. And I've been thinking that I should or could be writing about some family stuff. Like meeting my dad when I was 11 years old at a restaurant in Southland Mall, our relationship, our estrangement, his recent death and the funky feelings that go along with all of that. Maybe in story form. Maybe not. Something to think about. Certainly a way of getting away from the oral history getting lost. Won may be interested someday and my memory already fails me.

Right now, sleep beckons me. The gunk is still going around and I can't afford to get it again any time soon.