Just when I was waxing sentimental and maternal about my son Matthew, he turns me on my head - or heart. He has been coming for dinner Sundays for some time now, leaving his home at 4, arriving at my place about 15 to 5. I saw him yesterday and he confirmed today's plans. The Bloor line is often stopped up and supplemented with shuttle buses to get people to their destinations but not necessarily as quickly. So I didn't start worrying for a while, until I did, and then I started the quest, making calls.

He wears a MedicAlert chain around his neck because he is epileptic, controlled by prescribed drugs. If only I could put a chain around his conscience. Well, it's probably not conscience. The very trait that makes him resilient and forgiving is related to insouciance. Now, that's a word I seldom use. I looked it up to check that I was right. From the online dictionary:

insouciant |inˈso͞osēənt, ˌaNso͞oˈsyäNt|adjective showing a casual lack of concern; indifferent: an insouciant shrug.

He went to his girlfriend's because she asked him to, and he didn't bother calling to let me know. He says he's sorry but he isn't, really. "A casual lack of concern." It's his weakness as well as his strength. Well, I can understand it but I don't have it myself. I am never casual, never unconcerned. I put in a hard three and a half hours tonight worrying about my child, my 54-year-old child.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I wrote my February generic letter today and I've got it mixed up with my blog and my diary. I do hate repeating myself but it's hard to keep me discrete (sic). I seem to keep bogging down (blogging down?)into a limbo state, halfway between then and now, but then, when you come right down to it, that's where any of us is - between then and now, I mean.

So what did you learn today? What did I learn? Well, I'm cooking chicken for Matt, who is coming for dinner, and I'm doing a new-to-me Weight Watchers oven version of southern fried. I don't have any Panko (I didn't even know what Panko was until about a year ago), but I found a slice of bread in the freezer and crumbled it. It's not much different, taste-wise, this chicken, that is, but way less fat. That's not really a big lesson, but a useful one.

I read the Sunday NYT online today. It's not the same. My joy used to be the Sunday NYT paper issue, delivered to my door and I would spend the day with it, reading and clipping things for me and others. Now I send newsy items and ideas by email. During the week I read too much of the daily NYT and I must ration my time and choices. On the other hand, I signed on for the Cooking column to come to me online and it is loverly. I don't, of course, have to cook everything but I pick up ideas. I'm like a war horse, I guess, still responding though the battles are over. But, see, I learn something.

Every day.