Molten Mercy

Tired and sore today, but happy. Two days ago I celebrated being up in good shape by going to a memorial service for my sister's stepmother-in-law and visiting some with her gathered children. The next day all of us went to Dad's house and cleared some more land. Best beloved and I cleared a lot around the cement fish pond. When had the grapevine trellis collapsed? I hadn't noticed because of all the blackberry vines. Today I hope to dig up all the compost covering the pond and concrete walks made by the birds and sunflower seed hulls over a number of years. Pulling all the vines growing in that was a chore and a half. Dad watches us do the work he can no longer do and pets our dogs. He still hates that we are Christians and, much worse, Republicans, but maybe he is coming to peace with it. It is amazing how willing to work hard my sister's girls are. I am jealous that she has all these girls (six living) to play World of Warcraft with to talk with and to go to coffeeshops with. I have one that can only talk like a wookie and one that would not enjoy going to very many places with me. I had so much fun with my mother, going to art shows and sewing expos and going on long drives to take the wookie to a center to give us a week's respite and gardens and comparing notes on books etc, that I had hoped to have such a relationship with my daughter. Ah, well. God knows.
I was able to talk to my sister's youngest about why eye gaze hurts for her is because for her and me, eye gaze stimulates the amygdala in the brain instead of the limbic system as it does in most people. I explained how I practiced eye gaze until I had finally desensitized and she would need to do so also or people would not trust her.
Anyway, it was a good day of work, and altho I got tired, I did not get shuddery like I did last month when I pruned for a few hours and notched my lopper on Dad's wires.
Then we went to Starbucks and discussed Shatterworld with my sister and two of her daughters. One of them could not finish the third book because it was too depressing. More talk, and ok, ok, I'll write an epilogue, but it won't be my husband's epilogue. And Ralph in a morning consult at Sheri's restaurant had already persuaded me that an epilogue was required. So, I haven't finished writing Shatterworld after all, grumble, grumble. I am also truly distressed at how many people say that my husband's additions are useful. Glower. He says he is the editor and publisher, so he has the right. Glower deeper. He promises he will not mess with the books I am writing for my oldest son's universe. Good. And oh, I am adding some more conversation of Elder Chin in the closet, but again, it won't be my husband's sermon. The niece who couldn't finish the book will try again.