I spent most of the day corralling anxiety. This time for The Husband who woke up one morning last week with double vision and what he calls a "numb mouth." He went to the doctor yesterday who basically said that it "could be any number of things or nothing." He ordered an MRI for today.
So, we're waiting.
And feeling a teensy, tinesy bit anxious.
I took the boys to a free comic book workshop this afternoon in a Los Angeles neighborhood that I don't know very well. If it weren't for the dark cloud hanging over my head, I would have been in heaven. The boys were in their class and I had two hours to kill. Right next door was an amazing, perfect little bookstore and cafe. The kind of bookstore that you don't see anymore -- small and crowded and filled with weird selections as well as used stuff, gifts, ephemera, etc. There were chairs to sit on, and stacks of books by the chairs. In the children's section, I found this:
This was a childhood favorite, and I haven't seen it in years. I bought it for $6.99, a giant iced Americano and a plate of cured salmon, slices of baguette toasted and cream cheese. I sat outside with my book of laughs and listened to Bob Dylan, wafting through the store and over all those books and right into my heart. They even played Love Minus Zero. I once had to pick my favorite love song of the millenia for a Y2K party, and that was what I picked. There's something about hearing a favorite song arbitrarily that fills me with joy.
In spite of the waiting.