a radio was on.

I have been postponing writing this blog entry for a couple of days now because I needed to write about two seemingly disparate themes, and was sure some grand poetic gesture would occur to me that would pull the topics together into something nice to read, something to eat while you are giving yourself time to eat more pie (and I say, definitely eat more pie). But nothing came to me and the two subjects at hand are 1) Charles Manson and 2) Thanksgiving, But, first. Last night I was reading Asher and Elijah "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." This evening's reading was made almost excruciatingly poignant by the fact that Avery was there, at first just listening, just as she and Zoe had listened when she was seven and Zoe was five, and I read the same book to them. This is one of the unusual gifts of having groups of children (there should be a word like a murder of crows or a coven of witches, but a nicer word, like oval, an oval of children, or a poem of children-...

I have been postponing writing this blog entry for a couple of days now because I needed to write about two seemingly disparate themes, and was sure some grand poetic gesture would occur to me that would pull the topics together into something nice to read, something to eat while you are giving yourself time to eat more pie (and I say, definitely eat more pie). But nothing came to me and the two subjects at hand are 1) Charles Manson and 2) Thanksgiving, But last night I was reading Asher and Elijah "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe." This evening's reading was made almost excruciatingly poignant by the fact that Avery was there, at first just listening, just as she and Zoe had listened when she was seven and Zoe was five, and I read the same book to her. This is one of the unusual gifts of having groups of children (there should be a word like a murder of crows or a coven of witches, but a nicer word, like oval, an oval of children, or a poem of children, nope that...

Three times a day, I slip two wafers of methadone onto my tongue and chase them down with cool water. I was exhausted several days ago, and twice in a twenty-four hour period, missed the time to take the methadone and woke up from deep sleeping to real pain. Which was a good lesson because methadone is a great pain medication and had lulled me into believing I might not need the methadone because I wasn't in pain. I understand the looniness of the logic, but the fact that I am taking methadone (and this would be so if you subbed in any other similarly situated drug) prevents me from driving, which has made my life circumscribed in a beautiful, often vexing manner. So if I didn't somehow need methadone anymore, wouldn't that be grand? My life takes place, with some exceptions, in three places. My home, which I love. MGH. And the cranberry bog down the street from my home--which is almost unspeakably beautiful. I am feeling stronger, and have been able to walk in the bog almo...

Three times a day, I slip two wafers of methadone onto my tongue and chase them down with cool water. I was exhausted several days ago, and twice in a twenty-four hour period, missed the time to take the methadone and woke up from deep sleeping to real pain. Which was a good lesson because methadone is a great pain medication and had lulled me into believing I might not need the methadone because I wasn't in pain. I understand the looniness of the logic, but the fact that I am taking methadone (and this would be so if you subbed in any other similarly situated drug) prevents me from driving, which has made my life circumscribed in a beautiful, often vexing manner. So if I didn't somehow need methadone anymore, wouldn't that be grand? My life takes place, with some exceptions, in three places. My home, which I love. MGH. And the cranberry bog down the street from my home--which is almost unspeakably beautiful. I am feeling stronger, and have been able to walk in the bog a...