burning like matchsticks in the face of the darkness

We've reached that point in the season when people say, "It's so cold out" (in a negative tone) and I say, "I think it's beautiful out."

I was a bit cold when I left my house this morning, but under my snowflake hoodie I was wearing a t-shirt (for the gym). At work I wore my sparkly dark blue sweater. Walking between buildings on campus this afternoon, I didn't need my hoodie, and walking places after work I took off my hoodie because I was too warm. (Yes, it was in the 30s F today; not windy, though.)

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When I arrived at Mt. Auburn this evening, my mom was sitting up in a chair, chatting with my dad, eating "dinner" (my dad's update email tonight said, "I've never seen so many different kinds of clear liquids in one place: soup, jello, tea, Italian ice, ginger ale, and apple juice."). She was wearing her glasses, which I realized was probably one reason why she had looked somewhat strange to me at my earlier visits (because she didn't have them on then).

Later, we walked partway down the hall. She said it feels good to walk. "It feels good to rest, but why does resting always have to be in a prone position? Isn't there a stationary bike or something I can rest on?" She still can't roll over on her own, so she buzzes a nurse every hour to turn her to her other side; she says she feels like a rotisserie chicken.

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My mother's liturgical planning delusion today was that we were in Paris :)

She said was telling someone about how her brain apparently thinks we're coming up on Easter instead of Christmas, and the person said, "Maybe you're feeling a bit resurrected."

My mom said she was watching some PBS kids show today involving questions about books [this, I think], and one of them was something about the origin of Santa, and for a moment she held out a flicker of hope that the answer would be The Book of Luke, but no, it was The Night Before Christmas, which she conceded was fair. I said I was fairly certain Santa does not show up in The Book of Luke :) (I also thought but did not say, "Aren't the gift-bearing Magi in Matthew?")

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Apparently she's been misquoting me to people as having said "bonus happy hysterectomy."

Near the end of visiting hours, she caught up on facebook a bit on my netbook. She can focus on short bursts of text (she's on Percoset; she called me around 4:30 and asked me to pick up a People magazine on my way, said that's about where her cognition level is at -- looking at pictures and reading captions). I told her I could leave it with her if she wanted, but she said she's still somewhat clumsy (and the netbook keyboard takes some getting used to anyway) and so she would end up spending a lot of time on it not actually doing much when she could be, for example, sleeping.

My mom to me, as I was leaving: "Say hi to Melissa [my housemate], Ari, random people you meet on the street..."

From Is Black Swan the Art-House Version of Showgirls?:

Yes, the dancing in Black Swan is better — all of Elizabeth Berkeley's wild, zigzaggy moves in Showgirls can be best described as "watching someone get electrocuted while topless" — but someday, both of these movies are going to make for some terrific "Whip My Hair" mash-ups.

Edit: In my wanderings around the Internet, I also learned that Tabatha of Tabatha's Salon Takeover (which I have seen, thanks to Bravo at the gym) is gay.