Norovirus Creations

Abstract Feb Vacation

My family is limping  through our third bout of seasonal norovirus.

Liev missed four days of school last week. I am sick of toilets, paper towels and Mickey Mouse cartoons.

I fought my ennui with watercolor, crayons, and ink.

Without an easel or chain link fence to protect it, I painted atop our bookshelves, standing on a kitchen chair. I enjoyed balancing on one foot. Afterall, it’s the process, not the product!

Doddle February 2012
Doodle feb2

The Bruise

The bruise

Everyone gets at least one alarming bruise. I received mine four weeks ago.

As I opened my son’s stubborn but sturdy pushchair, a wheel popped off. This caused me to hurtle over the handles, jamming the un-wheeled post painfully into my thigh.

The impact hurt so much, I saw stars and had to sit for a moment. I assessed the damage—a tingly arm and a white and red impact zone on my thigh. Relief swept through me, I feared the stroller had gobbled a few ounces of flesh.

I shook it off and whisked Liev away for a neighborhood “walk and talk.” Strolling with his push chair is an excellent way to burn up an hour when he is too wild for a real neighborhood walk. I felt universally sore when we returned from our hour of storytelling.

In the evening, the bruise began to form. An apple-shaped halo of red -violet coalesced around a pale crimson streaked center. The next morning, the welt resembled a ring nebula. My mother would have recommended ice. I wanted to watch the bruise mature.

I resisted an impulse to photograph my injury and make a bruise diary. Instead, I inspected the bruise in detail twice daily.

On the third day, the bruise’s beauty peaked. To investigate, I perched on the edge of the bed. The reds had turned to deep purples and blacks. Individual capillaries twisted in injured tissue. My husband shuddered, “I have never seen such an awful bruise. You should see a doctor.”

I did not consider a doctor. It didn’t hurt much, it simply looked –fascinating. Noticing the subtle shifts of hue, I understood why people alter their bodies with tattoos.

You skin is you body’s billboard. You can spell out anything you choose and people will notice. If I marched around a public place, my bruise would take center stage. Some would offer sympathy, others disgust. I preferred to watch it unfold like a private chrysalis.

For two weeks, I monitored the fading bruise.

One night the bruise began to itch.

I rubbed the spot, being careful not to chafe myself. I am one of those people who approach skin irritations with irrational gusto. I would hack off an inch of flesh to remove a splinter and twist my skin into purple pulp to extract a pimple. I had to monitor my sneaky hands who crept down for hourly scratches.

Later that evening, my brain was distracted by an episode of The Mentalist. My hands broke free. They found two painful hard lumps inside the bruise. Alarm needled me as forty-two doom scenarios erupted in my head. I dashed off to consult Dr. Google.

Fortunately for me, others fret over their well-being. Information abounds. Bad bruises can form hard painful lumps, which the body reabsorbs in time.

My skin itched with sympathetic fury as I read thread after thread of mountain biker bruise stories. In particular they seem to suffer the most from deep, prickly bruises.

Over the next two days, the skin irritation formed an impressive crescent of red bumps. With vigilance and filed nails, I healed quickly.

I do not plan to turn my next injury into a science investigation. I will, however, marvel at the body’s remarkable capacity to heal.

Long Weekend

This is my sanity-saving project for today and yesterday. Good grief, I despise long weekends with a sick kiddo.

On the bright side, Liev really knows his Hiragana and is picking up some Kanji!


This quote by Calvin Coolidge seemed apt for today. On that note, here are some doodles:

Me, doodling while Liev takes a bath. The little heart on the dandelion was added later by Liev.

Random doodling while Liev played in the swimming pool over the summer.


This one took a few weeks. I sometimes feel like raising Liev is like stumbling through a maze. However, the path is getting clearer.

Happy Day.

Happy St. Patricks Day

Liev grumbled about wearing his green gap shirt today since he wanted to wear this new skull shirt.

I paired his green shirt with shiny Saint Patrick beads. What joy! My boy was thrilled. And the beads were delicious!

The school party was fun, but he came home overwhelmed and cranky.

After settling down, he felt like sock practice. Our little man puts on his socks with ease.  Yay!