Trying to re-focus

So, typing with some difficulty, I keep trying to elevate my eyes and thoughts, and ignore the pain in my hand and arm.

That's why I picked out a picture of the vine growing over the shower, because lavender is a calming color (the blossoms have no scent, but the soap from Besame Mucho down the street, from Provence, has little nubs of real lavender in it and feels fantastic against the body and releases all sorts of scent and . . . well, you just have to go there and get the soap).

And because showering outdoors, with the sun filtering through like that, is part of why I'm here.

And because I need the reminder. Badly.

We went out to dinner tonight with two of Robert's bridge buds. One of them, Taiwan-born, fancies herself as a physiotherapist (and as a cinephile, and as a philosopher, and as . . . oh, screw it), and had to show me exactly how she could cure my arthritic fingers. So, just as the wine was coming to the dinner table, she had me put my right arm out and administered "pressure" points that would have fit Richard Loo as a propaganda villain with thick, round glasses sneering "We have ways of making you talk." She hit nerves, deep, that have nothing to do with calcium on bones.

Since it's not proper etiquette, I didn't just paste her with the arm that still worked. But I couldn't pick up a knife, let alone a wineglass, with my right arm for the rest of the night.

So I think of lavender, as a color if not a scent, to restore calm.

Though I want to think of a very deep red. One that clots.