I'm not feeling too great, so am going to tuck into my warm bed with the cashmere blankets and good sheets and put my head under my wing for a bit until I feel a bit better.
I'll catch up to all your blogs on the flip side. No worries. Just soaking up the orange juice and letting myself get all spoiled with homemade chicken salad from the neighbors and Bing's delicious scrambled eggs...made with real cream and lots of chives.
Enjoy the changing leaves and I'll be back very soon.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Waking up thinking about Icarus.
Musee des Beaux Arts
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
for the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who do not especially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
While the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
W.H. Auden, 1940.
I woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so I put on my heavy robe, made a cup of hot chai tea and went outside to sit on the back steps, wrapped in a red woolen blanket. Socks, delighted to be taken out so early, pranced around the yard, wondering at the wet, dewy grass and happy to see the sun after so many rainy days.
I thought about Auden's poem, then. I thought about how when my Da died, as we were riding in the long black car to the church, how I looked out of the window and was astonished to see a shopkeeper shoveling snow in front of his store.
Didn't he know my Da had died? Why was life going on as if nothing had happened?
I remember some of my friends sitting in pews with their parents as my family made the long procession down the church aisle, their sad faces. And then as they were leaving after the service, I saw one of my friends yank the chapel veil off of her head and jump into another of my friend's car, smiling, glad to have a play date while I went home with my sick-at-heart mother and my weeping sisters.
We all take our turn.
I thought about how none of us is irreplaceable. Life will go on without us when we pass. About a month ago, Liv and I had a serious talk. She had some questions that no nine year old girl should have to ponder.
She wondered what would happen to her if I died.
It was not a good time to talk, I was in a hurry, getting ready to go to work, but these moments never seem to happen when you are sitting on a quiet beach somewhere or cuddled up on the sofa together.
So, I sat down with her on the bed and we were both late that day. I told her that while I had NO intention of dying soon, that she would be well looked after if I was gone. I told her that either Bing or Tinton would be there for her, that she could pick if she liked, or did she want me to pick for her? Did she need me to write something down just in case, so that she would not have to make the decision?
I stressed again, with my arms around her tightly, that I had plans to be around for a very long time.
She sat with her head on my shoulder, legs dangling over mine.
"I think I should go live with my father if something should happen to you," she said. She said that while she loved Bing very much, she felt that her place was either with me or Tinton.
I was taken aback, but thought that I covered well. I never saw this coming. I just assumed that she would rather be with Bing. And when Bing and I had discussed just that subject, we had figured that she would be raising Liv alone.
But, I had brought things up with Tinton, just to get his take on things. He told me that he would respect whatever Liv wanted. If she wanted to be with him, he would take a job teaching at a university, settle down to raise her properly. If she wanted to stay with Bing, he would go on in his current job and try to see Liv as much as possible.
So, Liv and I left it at that and haven't spoken of it again. Hopefully, there will never be a need to go there again.
But, it is funny, isn't it, how we think that life can never go on without us? That, like Icarus flying too close to the sun and then falling, we think that the world will just stop for us.
But, it doesn't, does it? The ploughman keeps plowing. Ships keep sailing. Shopkeepers keep shoveling their storefronts and bakers get up early to make their bread. New movies aren't halted in production. The new Harry Potter movie will still come out right on time. Those we love may be stuck for a while, but then, if they do what is best for them, they will resume their daily lives, make an egg for breakfast and go on.
It pained me to think of Liv growing up without me. Not because of what she would miss, though...but because of what I would miss. The thought of someone else braiding her hair, someone else listening to her explain how her pokemon card characters can evolve into other ones, watching her slice into a pumpkin to make it a face with the dexterity of a surgeon, seeing her swirl on her tire swing with Socks chasing her legs while she laughs her little witchy laugh...well, it stings.
But, at the same time, I am glad to know that I have a village to care for Liv. How awful this whole experience would be if it was just Liv and I, all alone. I need to know that she will always have a soft place to land, hands that will never let her fall. In order to protect her, I have to be unselfish, not hog her all to myself.
She is at such an incredible age. Just figuring out that the world is truly an amazing place. She finds new miracles daily, like a baby learning to walk. She will come running to the car after school and say, "Did you know that Buddhists shave their heads to atone when they have done something wrong?" and this is so interesting to her, thus making it interesting to me as well. She plays at her volleyball and now, basketball games with such passion, leaping up to slap the ball over the net and then turning to grin triumphantly at me or tipping that ball into the rim's basket and then sashaying around in a quiet circle, thrilled with the talented use of her own body.
I want to be here to share every single second of her witness. But, if I can't...well, she will be taken care of, looked after with love and tenderness. What mother would not feel grateful and humbled?
But, at the same time, you wonder what Icarus thought as he fell into that sea. Did he look at the ploughman plowing and think: MISS ME. PLEASE MISS ME! Did he think of his mother's warning and wish that he could hide his face in her skirt? Did he wish that he could taste a tangy tangerine one more time? Or did he just slide into that silky greenness and be glad that the world went on?
About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
for the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who do not especially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
While the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.
W.H. Auden, 1940.
I woke up early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so I put on my heavy robe, made a cup of hot chai tea and went outside to sit on the back steps, wrapped in a red woolen blanket. Socks, delighted to be taken out so early, pranced around the yard, wondering at the wet, dewy grass and happy to see the sun after so many rainy days.
I thought about Auden's poem, then. I thought about how when my Da died, as we were riding in the long black car to the church, how I looked out of the window and was astonished to see a shopkeeper shoveling snow in front of his store.
Didn't he know my Da had died? Why was life going on as if nothing had happened?
I remember some of my friends sitting in pews with their parents as my family made the long procession down the church aisle, their sad faces. And then as they were leaving after the service, I saw one of my friends yank the chapel veil off of her head and jump into another of my friend's car, smiling, glad to have a play date while I went home with my sick-at-heart mother and my weeping sisters.
We all take our turn.
I thought about how none of us is irreplaceable. Life will go on without us when we pass. About a month ago, Liv and I had a serious talk. She had some questions that no nine year old girl should have to ponder.
She wondered what would happen to her if I died.
It was not a good time to talk, I was in a hurry, getting ready to go to work, but these moments never seem to happen when you are sitting on a quiet beach somewhere or cuddled up on the sofa together.
So, I sat down with her on the bed and we were both late that day. I told her that while I had NO intention of dying soon, that she would be well looked after if I was gone. I told her that either Bing or Tinton would be there for her, that she could pick if she liked, or did she want me to pick for her? Did she need me to write something down just in case, so that she would not have to make the decision?
I stressed again, with my arms around her tightly, that I had plans to be around for a very long time.
She sat with her head on my shoulder, legs dangling over mine.
"I think I should go live with my father if something should happen to you," she said. She said that while she loved Bing very much, she felt that her place was either with me or Tinton.
I was taken aback, but thought that I covered well. I never saw this coming. I just assumed that she would rather be with Bing. And when Bing and I had discussed just that subject, we had figured that she would be raising Liv alone.
But, I had brought things up with Tinton, just to get his take on things. He told me that he would respect whatever Liv wanted. If she wanted to be with him, he would take a job teaching at a university, settle down to raise her properly. If she wanted to stay with Bing, he would go on in his current job and try to see Liv as much as possible.
So, Liv and I left it at that and haven't spoken of it again. Hopefully, there will never be a need to go there again.
But, it is funny, isn't it, how we think that life can never go on without us? That, like Icarus flying too close to the sun and then falling, we think that the world will just stop for us.
But, it doesn't, does it? The ploughman keeps plowing. Ships keep sailing. Shopkeepers keep shoveling their storefronts and bakers get up early to make their bread. New movies aren't halted in production. The new Harry Potter movie will still come out right on time. Those we love may be stuck for a while, but then, if they do what is best for them, they will resume their daily lives, make an egg for breakfast and go on.
It pained me to think of Liv growing up without me. Not because of what she would miss, though...but because of what I would miss. The thought of someone else braiding her hair, someone else listening to her explain how her pokemon card characters can evolve into other ones, watching her slice into a pumpkin to make it a face with the dexterity of a surgeon, seeing her swirl on her tire swing with Socks chasing her legs while she laughs her little witchy laugh...well, it stings.
But, at the same time, I am glad to know that I have a village to care for Liv. How awful this whole experience would be if it was just Liv and I, all alone. I need to know that she will always have a soft place to land, hands that will never let her fall. In order to protect her, I have to be unselfish, not hog her all to myself.
She is at such an incredible age. Just figuring out that the world is truly an amazing place. She finds new miracles daily, like a baby learning to walk. She will come running to the car after school and say, "Did you know that Buddhists shave their heads to atone when they have done something wrong?" and this is so interesting to her, thus making it interesting to me as well. She plays at her volleyball and now, basketball games with such passion, leaping up to slap the ball over the net and then turning to grin triumphantly at me or tipping that ball into the rim's basket and then sashaying around in a quiet circle, thrilled with the talented use of her own body.
I want to be here to share every single second of her witness. But, if I can't...well, she will be taken care of, looked after with love and tenderness. What mother would not feel grateful and humbled?
But, at the same time, you wonder what Icarus thought as he fell into that sea. Did he look at the ploughman plowing and think: MISS ME. PLEASE MISS ME! Did he think of his mother's warning and wish that he could hide his face in her skirt? Did he wish that he could taste a tangy tangerine one more time? Or did he just slide into that silky greenness and be glad that the world went on?
Friday, October 24, 2008
A newsy week
Well, it has been a great day. I took the day off to spend with Liv, who is off for parent-teacher conferences. I went in to see her teacher, Ms. Paris, this morning. Liv doesn't get grades in the way that I used to, such as A B C or D. Nope. She gets M, P, or E, meaning Mastered, Progressing and Emerging.
She has nearly Mastered everything with only one Emerging in editing of writing. Ms. Paris informed me that she thinks that Liv is a budding mathematician. It took everything I had not to look slightly horrified since just the subject of math gives me hives.
She told me that Liv excelled in geometry and is also very interested in the area of quadrilaterals, the division of decimals, electrons and protons and um...plate tectonics.
Well, alrighty then! Does this mean that she has finally mastered that pesky multiplication table? Because that is what I remember from my fourth grade year.
Seriously, I am proud. And her father is too. When I arrived at Hal and Nora's to pick up Liv after the conference, I tried hard to look stern when I walked in the door, but as always, Liv saw through me. She ran to me and leaped into my arms.
"I got a good report, didn't I?" she asked. It really wasn't a question. She knew that she did well already. I smiled and told her that she was too smart for me, that plate tectonics were seriously out of my league. Liv beamed.
"Can I call Dad and tell him when we get home?" she asked.
I said that of course she could, after all, she gets all that math whiz nonsense from him. She certainly doesn't get it from me....
I talked to Tinton, Liv's father when Liv was finished.
"I'm kind of intimidated," I whispered to him. "I mean, she is a fucking genius, Tinton and as she doesn't get that from me so this is all your damn fault."
He laughed. "She's something, all right, isn't she?"
Yes, I told him. She is certainly sumpin' sumpin'.
There is a certain joy that only parents share when it comes to their children. I mean, who else can I brag and brag and brag to? Just him. Just Tinton. Because, the truth is that while my friends (blog friends included) and family care about me and Liv, really...it is sort of boring to listen to someone go on and on about their children.
So, it is a good thing that you couldn't hear Tinton and me on the phone. He made me read the ENTIRE report card to him, line by line. And then Liv remembered that he was trying to learn french (he and his girlfriend are going to Paris for Christmas, the lucky sods), so she got back on the phone and insisted on conversing with him only in french. And when she handed the phone back to me, he wasn't irritated the way that anyone else would have been, he was so fucking impressed....
We are pretty much crazy in love with our little girl.
So, just in case you missed what I am trying to say...
Liv is a genius. And I get to be her mother.
And another bit of news, now.
I have a new job, starting on Halloween. Well, I didn't intentionally start on that day, it just sort of worked out that way.
I ran into an old friend several days ago. A friend from about...let's see...nearly two decades ago. We both worked for the same clinic in our early thirties, a clinic that specialized in children with autism spectrum disorders. Her name is Julie and we both left the clinic about the same time and while I had read a brilliant paper that she wrote evaluating neurotransmitter serotonin studies recently, I hadn't seen her since we both had perky boobs and unlined faces.
We hugged and exchanged the usual You look so young! How do you do it?! bullshit. And then we decided to go get coffee and catch up.
I found out that Julie and two other women had opened a clinic evaluating and treating children with generalized anxiety disorders, disruptive disorders and autism spectrum disorders. When she told me their address, I blinked.
It was about a block away from where Bing teaches high school.
In the northern part of the city, otherwise known, rather ungenerously, as the 'hood
"A lot of children need help in that area of the city," she told me. "And while we don't make huge salaries, we do have an excellent health insurance provider, so we are pretty lucky."
Julie went on to describe how much she loves working these days.
"I worked for a long, long time in private practice and just burned out," she admitted. "I decided to do something that mattered to me and found two friends who felt the same way and we came up with this. We do a lot of pro bono work and our fees are lowered for those who can't afford to bring in their kids unless we do that because they are either uninsured or under insured." she said.
She also admitted that she rents out the upstairs of the clinic's building to a man who keeps an eye on things in exchange for rent.
"We don't have much to steal," she said, "but we do have several Macs and a few other buildings in our block have been robbed."
She looked at me carefully for a moment.
And then she said it. I knew it was coming.
Have you ever considered going back to working with children?
Well, yes. I have. A lot.
She reminded me of a paper that I wrote years ago on selective mutism.
"You know, if you would think about working with us, you might be surprised at how easy it is to get up in the morning....much more interesting than evaluating charts all day..." she added, cannily.
I sighed. Told her about all the medical reasons that she didn't want to hire me.
She didn't hesitate.
"I don't care," she said. "I think you would be a good fit. As I said, we have an excellent medical carrier and while you won't make as much as you earn at the hospital, we are a really good bunch to work with. We all get along and we all have the same goals. AND we are all women. You could make your own hours on the days when you feel poorly. We do share the same two secretaries, but if we need to hire another, we can always leave that option open. The only drawback is the area but you don't look like you scare easily and hey, the kids we work with are worth it. Will you think about it?"
So, I thought about it. I took it home to Bing and we discussed the topic to death. We finally decided that we could carpool to work. That would save on gas. Liv would still have Hal and Nora to babysit her in the mornings and I could pick her up after school. Bing would go to her work out at the gym down the street from her school and then catch the bus home.
It would mean less money, but we could get by just fine and I would still have really good medical insurance.
And most importantly, I wouldn't be sitting in an office reading charts all day. I could be doing something that I really enjoyed. Something that I had missed for years. I always loved working with children and felt that it was what I was meant to do. I had only left because I had been offered a huge salary to go to an AIDS clinic. And then after Liv was born, I had moved to freelance to free up my days to care for her.
Now, maybe it was time to go back to what I really loved.
And I liked the idea of getting up each morning and going somewhere where I thought I could make a difference. Evaluating charts wasn't doing that for me.
So, Liv, Bing, and I all went down and toured the clinic.
And I loved it from the beginning, right down to the cheerful yellow and blue walls and the simple, but clean waiting room. My office was small but all of them were and there was a good vibe in that clinic. A hopeful vibe.
I met everyone in the office and liked them all immediately. Found out that Julie's mom was one of the secretaries. I knew that I had found the place for me.
Yes, it is in a high crime area of the city. Yes, it is an older building, a bit shabby on the outside, but lovely and soft on the inside. Yes, there are five locks on the front door and an alarm system. Yes, the day we visited, there was a homeless man on the corner. Yes, there is a church soup kitchen right down the street.
I think it will be a good fit.
Yes, I took the job and I start, fittingly, on Halloween.
I will miss Christabelle and Rossi and even Felicity, the humming secretary.
But, I will have other stories.
And for the first time in a very long time, I feel excited about going to work.
So...
I have a genius for a daughter and a new job in a very hopeful clinic in a very sad area of the city.
And Liv and I made FIVE jack-o-lanterns today. Count 'em. Five. One has a scary face, and all of the rest are smiling hugely. I made one with vampire teeth. And then we roasted all of the pumpkin seeds and made tomato soup loaded with crackers for lunch. It was rainy and cold outside but inside, we lit all the jack-o-lanterns and sat scooping our spoons into our bowls of soup and we let Socks have a cracker too. And then we laid on my bed and read some terrible Goosebumps book together about a haunted school house and we all took an afternoon nap under a warm cashmere blanket while the rain slid down the windows. And now, I have a meatloaf in the oven that Liv and I prepared together and there are three potatoes from our garden baking in their jackets next to the meat. There are soft french rolls to be warmed up too and some homemade cole slaw from Nora in the fridge.
We just need Bing to walk in the door and we can all eat.
I think life is pretty interesting. And I am already feeling stronger, happier.
So, wish me well.
And...it occurs to me that I know very little about what all of you do. So...care to share. Are you doing something you love?
I hope so.
She has nearly Mastered everything with only one Emerging in editing of writing. Ms. Paris informed me that she thinks that Liv is a budding mathematician. It took everything I had not to look slightly horrified since just the subject of math gives me hives.
She told me that Liv excelled in geometry and is also very interested in the area of quadrilaterals, the division of decimals, electrons and protons and um...plate tectonics.
Well, alrighty then! Does this mean that she has finally mastered that pesky multiplication table? Because that is what I remember from my fourth grade year.
Seriously, I am proud. And her father is too. When I arrived at Hal and Nora's to pick up Liv after the conference, I tried hard to look stern when I walked in the door, but as always, Liv saw through me. She ran to me and leaped into my arms.
"I got a good report, didn't I?" she asked. It really wasn't a question. She knew that she did well already. I smiled and told her that she was too smart for me, that plate tectonics were seriously out of my league. Liv beamed.
"Can I call Dad and tell him when we get home?" she asked.
I said that of course she could, after all, she gets all that math whiz nonsense from him. She certainly doesn't get it from me....
I talked to Tinton, Liv's father when Liv was finished.
"I'm kind of intimidated," I whispered to him. "I mean, she is a fucking genius, Tinton and as she doesn't get that from me so this is all your damn fault."
He laughed. "She's something, all right, isn't she?"
Yes, I told him. She is certainly sumpin' sumpin'.
There is a certain joy that only parents share when it comes to their children. I mean, who else can I brag and brag and brag to? Just him. Just Tinton. Because, the truth is that while my friends (blog friends included) and family care about me and Liv, really...it is sort of boring to listen to someone go on and on about their children.
So, it is a good thing that you couldn't hear Tinton and me on the phone. He made me read the ENTIRE report card to him, line by line. And then Liv remembered that he was trying to learn french (he and his girlfriend are going to Paris for Christmas, the lucky sods), so she got back on the phone and insisted on conversing with him only in french. And when she handed the phone back to me, he wasn't irritated the way that anyone else would have been, he was so fucking impressed....
We are pretty much crazy in love with our little girl.
So, just in case you missed what I am trying to say...
Liv is a genius. And I get to be her mother.
And another bit of news, now.
I have a new job, starting on Halloween. Well, I didn't intentionally start on that day, it just sort of worked out that way.
I ran into an old friend several days ago. A friend from about...let's see...nearly two decades ago. We both worked for the same clinic in our early thirties, a clinic that specialized in children with autism spectrum disorders. Her name is Julie and we both left the clinic about the same time and while I had read a brilliant paper that she wrote evaluating neurotransmitter serotonin studies recently, I hadn't seen her since we both had perky boobs and unlined faces.
We hugged and exchanged the usual You look so young! How do you do it?! bullshit. And then we decided to go get coffee and catch up.
I found out that Julie and two other women had opened a clinic evaluating and treating children with generalized anxiety disorders, disruptive disorders and autism spectrum disorders. When she told me their address, I blinked.
It was about a block away from where Bing teaches high school.
In the northern part of the city, otherwise known, rather ungenerously, as the 'hood
"A lot of children need help in that area of the city," she told me. "And while we don't make huge salaries, we do have an excellent health insurance provider, so we are pretty lucky."
Julie went on to describe how much she loves working these days.
"I worked for a long, long time in private practice and just burned out," she admitted. "I decided to do something that mattered to me and found two friends who felt the same way and we came up with this. We do a lot of pro bono work and our fees are lowered for those who can't afford to bring in their kids unless we do that because they are either uninsured or under insured." she said.
She also admitted that she rents out the upstairs of the clinic's building to a man who keeps an eye on things in exchange for rent.
"We don't have much to steal," she said, "but we do have several Macs and a few other buildings in our block have been robbed."
She looked at me carefully for a moment.
And then she said it. I knew it was coming.
Have you ever considered going back to working with children?
Well, yes. I have. A lot.
She reminded me of a paper that I wrote years ago on selective mutism.
"You know, if you would think about working with us, you might be surprised at how easy it is to get up in the morning....much more interesting than evaluating charts all day..." she added, cannily.
I sighed. Told her about all the medical reasons that she didn't want to hire me.
She didn't hesitate.
"I don't care," she said. "I think you would be a good fit. As I said, we have an excellent medical carrier and while you won't make as much as you earn at the hospital, we are a really good bunch to work with. We all get along and we all have the same goals. AND we are all women. You could make your own hours on the days when you feel poorly. We do share the same two secretaries, but if we need to hire another, we can always leave that option open. The only drawback is the area but you don't look like you scare easily and hey, the kids we work with are worth it. Will you think about it?"
So, I thought about it. I took it home to Bing and we discussed the topic to death. We finally decided that we could carpool to work. That would save on gas. Liv would still have Hal and Nora to babysit her in the mornings and I could pick her up after school. Bing would go to her work out at the gym down the street from her school and then catch the bus home.
It would mean less money, but we could get by just fine and I would still have really good medical insurance.
And most importantly, I wouldn't be sitting in an office reading charts all day. I could be doing something that I really enjoyed. Something that I had missed for years. I always loved working with children and felt that it was what I was meant to do. I had only left because I had been offered a huge salary to go to an AIDS clinic. And then after Liv was born, I had moved to freelance to free up my days to care for her.
Now, maybe it was time to go back to what I really loved.
And I liked the idea of getting up each morning and going somewhere where I thought I could make a difference. Evaluating charts wasn't doing that for me.
So, Liv, Bing, and I all went down and toured the clinic.
And I loved it from the beginning, right down to the cheerful yellow and blue walls and the simple, but clean waiting room. My office was small but all of them were and there was a good vibe in that clinic. A hopeful vibe.
I met everyone in the office and liked them all immediately. Found out that Julie's mom was one of the secretaries. I knew that I had found the place for me.
Yes, it is in a high crime area of the city. Yes, it is an older building, a bit shabby on the outside, but lovely and soft on the inside. Yes, there are five locks on the front door and an alarm system. Yes, the day we visited, there was a homeless man on the corner. Yes, there is a church soup kitchen right down the street.
I think it will be a good fit.
Yes, I took the job and I start, fittingly, on Halloween.
I will miss Christabelle and Rossi and even Felicity, the humming secretary.
But, I will have other stories.
And for the first time in a very long time, I feel excited about going to work.
So...
I have a genius for a daughter and a new job in a very hopeful clinic in a very sad area of the city.
And Liv and I made FIVE jack-o-lanterns today. Count 'em. Five. One has a scary face, and all of the rest are smiling hugely. I made one with vampire teeth. And then we roasted all of the pumpkin seeds and made tomato soup loaded with crackers for lunch. It was rainy and cold outside but inside, we lit all the jack-o-lanterns and sat scooping our spoons into our bowls of soup and we let Socks have a cracker too. And then we laid on my bed and read some terrible Goosebumps book together about a haunted school house and we all took an afternoon nap under a warm cashmere blanket while the rain slid down the windows. And now, I have a meatloaf in the oven that Liv and I prepared together and there are three potatoes from our garden baking in their jackets next to the meat. There are soft french rolls to be warmed up too and some homemade cole slaw from Nora in the fridge.
We just need Bing to walk in the door and we can all eat.
I think life is pretty interesting. And I am already feeling stronger, happier.
So, wish me well.
And...it occurs to me that I know very little about what all of you do. So...care to share. Are you doing something you love?
I hope so.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
7 strange things meme
I was tagged by my good friend, Janet over at Mid Life Clarity.
I'm to write seven odd things about myself and then tag seven people. But, I won't be tagging anyone. As always, if you need some filler or just feel like doing it...go for it.
Seven Odd Things About Me.
1. I am a near perfect shot but I don't own a gun nor will I allow one in my home. Ever. I have no idea how I ended up being so talented with a gun and only found out when someone had a bb gun at a party and dared me to try to hit a target and I got a dead eye on the first try. And the second. And the third. So, if you are a burglar and try to rob my home, you are very lucky that I don't own a firearm.
2. I work hard to behave as if I am a pretty tough old broad. Very sarcastic and acerbic. In reality...this is one of my favorite movies. I am hopelessly sentimental and romantic. On the inside.
3. I almost named my daughter Isis. In a moment of idiocy, I actually seriously considered giving her a name that would doom her to playground taunts for her entire elementary school existence.
4. I snore. Okay. I am on record as admitting it. I have occasionally woken myself up with a particularly loud snort. Bing sleeps in the guest room when I have a cold because she says that I snore so loudly that she can't sleep. I believe she compared the racket I make to a vacuum cleaner.
5. I used to have a passable voice until I reached the age of 35 and then suddenly I turned into Edith Bunker singing "Those Were The Days."
6. I once came perilously close to cheating on Bing. I walked to the edge and it took everything I had NOT to jump in. But, I did it. I held back. And I am very grateful that I didn't succumb because to risk losing the only woman that I have ever truly loved would have been a grave mistake.
And lastly
7. I used to make snide remarks about people who talked to their pets. Now that we have Socks, the dog, I routinely not only talk to him, but I have long conversations with him and he sits there nodding and looking so serious and sympathetic. I seldom cry in front of people, but I have broken down more than a few times with Socks and wept into his fur. I think of him as a good, loyal friend and I
will never,ever mock anyone again for talking to their pet.
Okay...now you know some parts of the true me. Of course, I left the really awful parts out. I mean, I like to lay it all out on the line, but really...did you think I would tell you about my rubber duck collection or my secret fascination with really frothy slips and negligees? Or my addiction to ovaltine? Or...my fear of warts?
I'm to write seven odd things about myself and then tag seven people. But, I won't be tagging anyone. As always, if you need some filler or just feel like doing it...go for it.
Seven Odd Things About Me.
1. I am a near perfect shot but I don't own a gun nor will I allow one in my home. Ever. I have no idea how I ended up being so talented with a gun and only found out when someone had a bb gun at a party and dared me to try to hit a target and I got a dead eye on the first try. And the second. And the third. So, if you are a burglar and try to rob my home, you are very lucky that I don't own a firearm.
2. I work hard to behave as if I am a pretty tough old broad. Very sarcastic and acerbic. In reality...this is one of my favorite movies. I am hopelessly sentimental and romantic. On the inside.
3. I almost named my daughter Isis. In a moment of idiocy, I actually seriously considered giving her a name that would doom her to playground taunts for her entire elementary school existence.
4. I snore. Okay. I am on record as admitting it. I have occasionally woken myself up with a particularly loud snort. Bing sleeps in the guest room when I have a cold because she says that I snore so loudly that she can't sleep. I believe she compared the racket I make to a vacuum cleaner.
5. I used to have a passable voice until I reached the age of 35 and then suddenly I turned into Edith Bunker singing "Those Were The Days."
6. I once came perilously close to cheating on Bing. I walked to the edge and it took everything I had NOT to jump in. But, I did it. I held back. And I am very grateful that I didn't succumb because to risk losing the only woman that I have ever truly loved would have been a grave mistake.
And lastly
7. I used to make snide remarks about people who talked to their pets. Now that we have Socks, the dog, I routinely not only talk to him, but I have long conversations with him and he sits there nodding and looking so serious and sympathetic. I seldom cry in front of people, but I have broken down more than a few times with Socks and wept into his fur. I think of him as a good, loyal friend and I
will never,ever mock anyone again for talking to their pet.
Okay...now you know some parts of the true me. Of course, I left the really awful parts out. I mean, I like to lay it all out on the line, but really...did you think I would tell you about my rubber duck collection or my secret fascination with really frothy slips and negligees? Or my addiction to ovaltine? Or...my fear of warts?
Sunday, October 19, 2008
A life with a view
I was on my own today. Bing left this morning to go on a business trip for Apple. She will be home on thursday. I didn't plan on missing her. Every relationship has its ups and downs. We have been on a downward spiral lately. Nothing to worry about. Just...well...you can't hit 'em out of the park every day. Some days, you just strike out or get tossed out on first base.
We don't really have rocky areas in our relationship, we just hit snags. And there is a great comfort in knowing that even if we aren't swooning at the sight of each other, even if every thing she says or does just bugs the hell out of me, well, so what? I'm no picnic to be with some days either. So, we endure and then we slide back to each other. We just have to wait it out. And we are both willing to stay put and wait for the flip side.
So, Bing left. And Liv left too. She was invited to her friend, Candace's house to spend the day and night. They are working on a project for school and since it is due tomorrow and they are nearly finished, I said that yes, she could spend the night. I'll pick her up after school tomorrow.
I was looking forward to spending the day alone. Bing left early and took Liv with her to drop off on her way to the airport. And I found myself with a day to fill.
I planned to do nothing.
Instead, I went shopping. I went to Linens n Things, who are having a huge going-out-of-business sale. I wandered up and down the aisles, fingering the plush towels and linens.
I bought a 1000 thread count pair of unbearably soft buttermilk colored sheets and a matching cashmere blanket. All on sale for a song.
I stopped at the beauty store and bought myself a jar of La Mer. I almost bought some pricey hair products but since my hair has grown so thin that I am afraid to wash it too vigorously these days, I decided to stop with the facial cream.
I came home and put the sheets and blankets on the bed, anticipating a soft dreamy sleep tonight.
I pulled out my latest book, Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos and sat outside while Socks the dog scampered around the yard chasing squirrels.
I started out in the adirondack chair and then decided that since it was nearly 73 degrees, I would take advantage of the last of these sun soaked days. I went and laid in our back yard under the huge maple tree that is just beginning to change color. I stretched out on the grass with my book and a honey crisp apple. Socks came over to sprawl next to me, his foot stretching out to reach a patch of sunlight filtering in through the trees. It felt...utterly relaxing.
When it was dinner time, I considered my options. What was I hungry for? I could indulge myself. I had no spouse, no child to consider.
I decided on a bowl of cocoa puffs. With whole milk. Not skim. Whole.
I sat happily tucked up into our Juno chair and ate an enormous bowl of those cocoa puffs. I channel surfed, eventually finding Philadelphia playing on AMC.
I had forgotten how splendid that film is. I'd forgotten how moving it was.
I finished my bowl of cereal and decided that I needed some serious liquor. I found a bottle of 1998 Chateau Magdelain that my friend, Nirand had sent to me long ago and told me to save it for when I was feeling that I needed something to take the edge off of life.
I was needing it, watching this movie. I found myself thinking about the time when this movie came out. Fifteen years ago. I was 35. Liv was not in my life. I was working in private practice, specializing in AIDS patients. I knew many, many men like the Andrew Beckett in the film. My heart ached for all of them.
I remember thinking that surely times had to change, that maybe someday, homosexuality would not be such a brand, such a cross to bear.
This was before Matthew Shepard.
I drank my wine, thinking that while, yes, there is progress...there is not enough progress to suit me. I want my daughter to live in a world where it will not matter if she chooses to be with a man or a woman.
We aren't there yet. Some days, on my sadder ones, on the days when I see Sarah Palin talk so blithely about the fact that while she absolutely, positively does NOT believe in gay marriage, well...hey...she thinks that if I want to visit my partner in the hospital, I should be able to do so, I feel like not much has changed.
Thanks so much for your tolerance, Sarah. How very, very giving of you.
I watched the end of Philadelphia with tears in my eyes. I yearned for Bing and the warmth of her arms around me. What kind of place is this that so many people feel so threatened by our love?
How can anyone listen to Neil Young sing the heartwrenching song, Philadelphia and not want to weep?
So, I called up Bing. She picked up on the second ring.
I just needed to hear your voice, I told her.
We don't really have rocky areas in our relationship, we just hit snags. And there is a great comfort in knowing that even if we aren't swooning at the sight of each other, even if every thing she says or does just bugs the hell out of me, well, so what? I'm no picnic to be with some days either. So, we endure and then we slide back to each other. We just have to wait it out. And we are both willing to stay put and wait for the flip side.
So, Bing left. And Liv left too. She was invited to her friend, Candace's house to spend the day and night. They are working on a project for school and since it is due tomorrow and they are nearly finished, I said that yes, she could spend the night. I'll pick her up after school tomorrow.
I was looking forward to spending the day alone. Bing left early and took Liv with her to drop off on her way to the airport. And I found myself with a day to fill.
I planned to do nothing.
Instead, I went shopping. I went to Linens n Things, who are having a huge going-out-of-business sale. I wandered up and down the aisles, fingering the plush towels and linens.
I bought a 1000 thread count pair of unbearably soft buttermilk colored sheets and a matching cashmere blanket. All on sale for a song.
I stopped at the beauty store and bought myself a jar of La Mer. I almost bought some pricey hair products but since my hair has grown so thin that I am afraid to wash it too vigorously these days, I decided to stop with the facial cream.
I came home and put the sheets and blankets on the bed, anticipating a soft dreamy sleep tonight.
I pulled out my latest book, Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos and sat outside while Socks the dog scampered around the yard chasing squirrels.
I started out in the adirondack chair and then decided that since it was nearly 73 degrees, I would take advantage of the last of these sun soaked days. I went and laid in our back yard under the huge maple tree that is just beginning to change color. I stretched out on the grass with my book and a honey crisp apple. Socks came over to sprawl next to me, his foot stretching out to reach a patch of sunlight filtering in through the trees. It felt...utterly relaxing.
When it was dinner time, I considered my options. What was I hungry for? I could indulge myself. I had no spouse, no child to consider.
I decided on a bowl of cocoa puffs. With whole milk. Not skim. Whole.
I sat happily tucked up into our Juno chair and ate an enormous bowl of those cocoa puffs. I channel surfed, eventually finding Philadelphia playing on AMC.
I had forgotten how splendid that film is. I'd forgotten how moving it was.
I finished my bowl of cereal and decided that I needed some serious liquor. I found a bottle of 1998 Chateau Magdelain that my friend, Nirand had sent to me long ago and told me to save it for when I was feeling that I needed something to take the edge off of life.
I was needing it, watching this movie. I found myself thinking about the time when this movie came out. Fifteen years ago. I was 35. Liv was not in my life. I was working in private practice, specializing in AIDS patients. I knew many, many men like the Andrew Beckett in the film. My heart ached for all of them.
I remember thinking that surely times had to change, that maybe someday, homosexuality would not be such a brand, such a cross to bear.
This was before Matthew Shepard.
I drank my wine, thinking that while, yes, there is progress...there is not enough progress to suit me. I want my daughter to live in a world where it will not matter if she chooses to be with a man or a woman.
We aren't there yet. Some days, on my sadder ones, on the days when I see Sarah Palin talk so blithely about the fact that while she absolutely, positively does NOT believe in gay marriage, well...hey...she thinks that if I want to visit my partner in the hospital, I should be able to do so, I feel like not much has changed.
Thanks so much for your tolerance, Sarah. How very, very giving of you.
I watched the end of Philadelphia with tears in my eyes. I yearned for Bing and the warmth of her arms around me. What kind of place is this that so many people feel so threatened by our love?
How can anyone listen to Neil Young sing the heartwrenching song, Philadelphia and not want to weep?
So, I called up Bing. She picked up on the second ring.
I just needed to hear your voice, I told her.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The part of me that needs the vampire
I was over at Earth Muffin's blog, reading all about her experiences with boogers when my eyes wandered over to her sidebar and I noticed with a tang of joy that she is also a Twilight junkie fan.
I was sort of afraid that I was the only grown woman who was into the Bella/Edward vampire love story. But, I did some research and I found out that there are LOTS and LOTS of us.
But, it got me thinking. Why am I, a fifty year old woman, so enamored with a teenage story of a vampire who falls in love with a human? Was I stuck in my high school years? And if I was, was I nuts? I mean, I wasn't one of those pimply angst ridden teens but I wasn't Miley Cyrus either. My high school years were spent in a small town Catholic girl's school. My graduating class was all of 28. I was not valedictorian. I was, however, homecoming princess. But, hey...achieving that status out of a class of 28 was not all that difficult. My high school years were okay. I don't remember crying into my pillow over some boy, but then, hey...I was a very in the closet lesbian, so boys weren't high up on my list. For this reason, I suppose, I
never lacked for a boyfriend. I think it was my lack of interest that did it. It was like honey drawing ants. All I had to do was show up and have no interest and suddenly I had several boys who really, really wanted me to get into cars with them.
What I always had, though? I loved the edge. I loved pushing boundaries, ached to try new things, be the one who took the dares. And growing up in a tightly bound Irish Catholic family of all girls, going to a small private girl's school, well...there was not a lot of free love and commune trippin' dancing in my life.
In fact, there was none.
I smoked cigarettes. And felt deliciously wicked as I lit my Marlboros up in my bedroom, with my window cranked open, letting the freezing cold Iowa winter air in while I shivered violently and learned to blow smoke rings.
I read Lolita. Peyton Place. The Bell Jar. Catcher in the Rye. I inhaled books, felt like maybe they were the only place where I felt touched, like someone understood the real me.
"It was that kind of crazy afternoon, terrifically cold and no sun out or anything and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road." Haulden Caulfield, J.D Salinger. The Catcher in the Rye.
Or...
"I felt like a race horse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like a date on a tombstone." Sylvia Plath. The Bell Jar.
I became a Shakespeare nut. I read Romeo and Juliet with such an ache in my heart. I wanted to be either Juliet or Romeo, I didn't care which. Or maybe Mercutio suited me better:
Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: And what was yours?
Mercutio: That dreamers often lie.
I just knew that there was a world out there, that there were chances to be taken and risks to be attempted and I felt stuck in my little town. I wanted out and I wanted to be really, really bad.
Which, of course, for a girl like me, meant that I smoked a little weed.
No heroin, no wild nights, just...yeah...I smoked a little weed.
When I got into college, I slept around a little.
Okay, for maybe a few months, it was a lot. And not just with women. I was open to any and all experiences. Well...no pets.
But, men or women? Both, please. In large quantities.
The women I sashayed around with were less excited about me sleeping with men than the men were about me sleeping with women. In fact, the men were basically fine with my bisexuality.
I ached all through my twenties and into my thirties. I wanted to be the girl who got the best grades but who also knew how to slam down whiskey sours at the parties.
I excelled at both.
Bing swears that this is why I didn't fall for her until I was in my forties.
"I was way too tame for you. You liked your dates to be bad boys or bad girls. Or at least to look as if they could be. You wanted to be a female Jack Kerouac. No room in your life for me, although you liked the musician bent. I just wasn't quite twisted enough for you, not enough of a wild hair."
And she was right. She didn't appeal to me. Not then. Well, I always loved her, just not the way she wanted me to. I wasn't really interested in a grown up relationship. I wanted a female Kurt Cobain.
I still sometimes do.
There. I said it.
I fessed up.
I admit that there is always a part of me that seeks the vampire. The not so good boy. The not so good girl.
Super heroes bore me. Give me Jack Sparrow. Don't give me limpid eyed Jack on Lost. Nope. I want Sawyer. Kate. Even Juliet is fine. Just give me someone with a bit of a past, a bit of mystery and I am intrigued.
Well, I finally came around. Finally fell in love with Bing.
And she is hardly staid.
But, she is not by any means...wild eyed.
She is steady and even tempered and cool and easy and....
there.
Always there. Always supportive. Always in my corner, rubbing my back and whispering encouragement.
I am old enough to love that about her now. Appreciate it in a way that I never could before. And she is what I want now. I don't feel that I have settled. I feel that I have mellowed. Plus, I have a daughter now. That colors every single decision that I make. Every. Single. One. I may crave a little dangerous excitement in my life, but I don't believe for a second that my daughter needs that. I protect her from just that sort of thing now. I would never allow anyone into our lives who even had a whiff of danger to them. I want Liv's life to be a safe, secure, warm nest. Jeopardize that for a few thrills for myself? Never.
But that doesn't mean that I don't crave this kind of excitement.
Because he doesn't scare me either....
Not that I am going to leave Bing for a teenage boy vampire.
Let's just say that I understand the need.
How about you?
I was sort of afraid that I was the only grown woman who was into the Bella/Edward vampire love story. But, I did some research and I found out that there are LOTS and LOTS of us.
But, it got me thinking. Why am I, a fifty year old woman, so enamored with a teenage story of a vampire who falls in love with a human? Was I stuck in my high school years? And if I was, was I nuts? I mean, I wasn't one of those pimply angst ridden teens but I wasn't Miley Cyrus either. My high school years were spent in a small town Catholic girl's school. My graduating class was all of 28. I was not valedictorian. I was, however, homecoming princess. But, hey...achieving that status out of a class of 28 was not all that difficult. My high school years were okay. I don't remember crying into my pillow over some boy, but then, hey...I was a very in the closet lesbian, so boys weren't high up on my list. For this reason, I suppose, I
never lacked for a boyfriend. I think it was my lack of interest that did it. It was like honey drawing ants. All I had to do was show up and have no interest and suddenly I had several boys who really, really wanted me to get into cars with them.
What I always had, though? I loved the edge. I loved pushing boundaries, ached to try new things, be the one who took the dares. And growing up in a tightly bound Irish Catholic family of all girls, going to a small private girl's school, well...there was not a lot of free love and commune trippin' dancing in my life.
In fact, there was none.
I smoked cigarettes. And felt deliciously wicked as I lit my Marlboros up in my bedroom, with my window cranked open, letting the freezing cold Iowa winter air in while I shivered violently and learned to blow smoke rings.
I read Lolita. Peyton Place. The Bell Jar. Catcher in the Rye. I inhaled books, felt like maybe they were the only place where I felt touched, like someone understood the real me.
"It was that kind of crazy afternoon, terrifically cold and no sun out or anything and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road." Haulden Caulfield, J.D Salinger. The Catcher in the Rye.
Or...
"I felt like a race horse in a world without racetracks or a champion college footballer suddenly confronted by Wall Street and a business suit, his days of glory shrunk to a little gold cup on his mantel with a date engraved on it like a date on a tombstone." Sylvia Plath. The Bell Jar.
I became a Shakespeare nut. I read Romeo and Juliet with such an ache in my heart. I wanted to be either Juliet or Romeo, I didn't care which. Or maybe Mercutio suited me better:
Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: And what was yours?
Mercutio: That dreamers often lie.
I just knew that there was a world out there, that there were chances to be taken and risks to be attempted and I felt stuck in my little town. I wanted out and I wanted to be really, really bad.
Which, of course, for a girl like me, meant that I smoked a little weed.
No heroin, no wild nights, just...yeah...I smoked a little weed.
When I got into college, I slept around a little.
Okay, for maybe a few months, it was a lot. And not just with women. I was open to any and all experiences. Well...no pets.
But, men or women? Both, please. In large quantities.
The women I sashayed around with were less excited about me sleeping with men than the men were about me sleeping with women. In fact, the men were basically fine with my bisexuality.
I ached all through my twenties and into my thirties. I wanted to be the girl who got the best grades but who also knew how to slam down whiskey sours at the parties.
I excelled at both.
Bing swears that this is why I didn't fall for her until I was in my forties.
"I was way too tame for you. You liked your dates to be bad boys or bad girls. Or at least to look as if they could be. You wanted to be a female Jack Kerouac. No room in your life for me, although you liked the musician bent. I just wasn't quite twisted enough for you, not enough of a wild hair."
And she was right. She didn't appeal to me. Not then. Well, I always loved her, just not the way she wanted me to. I wasn't really interested in a grown up relationship. I wanted a female Kurt Cobain.
I still sometimes do.
There. I said it.
I fessed up.
I admit that there is always a part of me that seeks the vampire. The not so good boy. The not so good girl.
Super heroes bore me. Give me Jack Sparrow. Don't give me limpid eyed Jack on Lost. Nope. I want Sawyer. Kate. Even Juliet is fine. Just give me someone with a bit of a past, a bit of mystery and I am intrigued.
Well, I finally came around. Finally fell in love with Bing.
And she is hardly staid.
But, she is not by any means...wild eyed.
She is steady and even tempered and cool and easy and....
there.
Always there. Always supportive. Always in my corner, rubbing my back and whispering encouragement.
I am old enough to love that about her now. Appreciate it in a way that I never could before. And she is what I want now. I don't feel that I have settled. I feel that I have mellowed. Plus, I have a daughter now. That colors every single decision that I make. Every. Single. One. I may crave a little dangerous excitement in my life, but I don't believe for a second that my daughter needs that. I protect her from just that sort of thing now. I would never allow anyone into our lives who even had a whiff of danger to them. I want Liv's life to be a safe, secure, warm nest. Jeopardize that for a few thrills for myself? Never.
But that doesn't mean that I don't crave this kind of excitement.
Because he doesn't scare me either....
Not that I am going to leave Bing for a teenage boy vampire.
Let's just say that I understand the need.
How about you?
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The booger dilemma
Today, I took a morning break at work and went up to the atrium, as I often do, to just sit and sip a chai tea.
Which I got from the hospital cafeteria. I am sort of astounded that the hospital cafeteria has the best chai tea that I have ever tasted. It is perfect, very mellow and silky and piping hot, which is lovely on a cold, raw, windy, rainy day like today.
So, I sat in the atrium, cupping my freezing fingers around my hot cup and taking slow, heating sips. I looked out the windows at the rain streaming down the window panes and gently touched my knuckles to the glass. It was very cold.
The atrium is heavy with big leaved flowers, most of them peace lilies but there are also a few unusual standouts: witchhazel, hydrangeas,climbing asters, evergreen ferns and even some shenandoah switchgrass. The air is warmer in this room than in the corridors and it is comforting. Lots of patients are wheeled in throughout the day to sit among the plants.
Today was no exception, the room was about half filled. I sipped my tea and snaked my hand into a small bag of animal crackers, the puffy ones are best, and crunched down on them in a satisfying way.
And then I noticed him. A man in a shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up.
Studiously picking his nose and staring out of the window.
I watched, horridly fascinated for a while.
God, did he think he was alone? Because he was really digging up in his snout, scrupulously rooting around in there for tubers.
I gave an involuntary shiver of revulsion.
Because, honestly, is there anything more gross than watching someone pick their nose?
Well, I can hear you say...it could be worse...he could be nabbing them and eating them....
I found that I had lost my appetite.
So, I sighed and headed back down to my office.
An hour or so later, the department head, Rossi, was getting ready to leave for lunch. And then I heard him say, "Hey! There you are! I thought you would never get here! Are you ready to go to lunch?"
I looked up.
And yes. Wait for it.
It was the nose picker.
Rossi introduced him to me. I was the only one left in the room as everyone else had already left for lunch and I was trying to finish up a chart first.
Rossi informed me that this was his cousin. His cousin, Henry.
And Henry, the nose picker, held out his hand for a shake.
Holding out the same hand that had been digging for gold up in his nostrils.
What to do? What to do?
Well, I shook his hand. Because there was simply no way out of that without being ill mannered.
But, after they left?
I sped into the bathroom and ran the hot water until it was steaming hot. And then I soaped up my hand and scrubbed as if I were prepping for surgery.
Eww...boogers...
Now, I am not a priss ass. I know that everyone picks their nose. But...good hell...ICK.
It strikes me that I have a big shiver-ick-blecckky time with boogers.
I once was going through a grocery line with Liv when she was a toddler.
The cashier who was checking us through had a rather long thin booger strand hanging out of her nose. It was um...swinging with her head movements.
I was sickeningly fascinated with that booger strand, half terrified that it would fall on my groceries.
And I wasn't the only one who noticed.
Liv, who was just learning to talk and nestled up on my hip, kept pointing at the woman and saying very clearly, "Nose, nose!"
The cashier smiled sweetly at Liv.
"Yes, sweetie pie...that is my nose!" she said. "Would you like a sucker?"
I said okay and she held out a red lolly to Liv, who refused to take it. Even at 2, Liv had her standards.
DO NOT TAKE FOOD FROM BOOGERY HANDS.
So, what are YOUR booger stories? Can you beat mine?
Which I got from the hospital cafeteria. I am sort of astounded that the hospital cafeteria has the best chai tea that I have ever tasted. It is perfect, very mellow and silky and piping hot, which is lovely on a cold, raw, windy, rainy day like today.
So, I sat in the atrium, cupping my freezing fingers around my hot cup and taking slow, heating sips. I looked out the windows at the rain streaming down the window panes and gently touched my knuckles to the glass. It was very cold.
The atrium is heavy with big leaved flowers, most of them peace lilies but there are also a few unusual standouts: witchhazel, hydrangeas,climbing asters, evergreen ferns and even some shenandoah switchgrass. The air is warmer in this room than in the corridors and it is comforting. Lots of patients are wheeled in throughout the day to sit among the plants.
Today was no exception, the room was about half filled. I sipped my tea and snaked my hand into a small bag of animal crackers, the puffy ones are best, and crunched down on them in a satisfying way.
And then I noticed him. A man in a shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up.
Studiously picking his nose and staring out of the window.
I watched, horridly fascinated for a while.
God, did he think he was alone? Because he was really digging up in his snout, scrupulously rooting around in there for tubers.
I gave an involuntary shiver of revulsion.
Because, honestly, is there anything more gross than watching someone pick their nose?
Well, I can hear you say...it could be worse...he could be nabbing them and eating them....
I found that I had lost my appetite.
So, I sighed and headed back down to my office.
An hour or so later, the department head, Rossi, was getting ready to leave for lunch. And then I heard him say, "Hey! There you are! I thought you would never get here! Are you ready to go to lunch?"
I looked up.
And yes. Wait for it.
It was the nose picker.
Rossi introduced him to me. I was the only one left in the room as everyone else had already left for lunch and I was trying to finish up a chart first.
Rossi informed me that this was his cousin. His cousin, Henry.
And Henry, the nose picker, held out his hand for a shake.
Holding out the same hand that had been digging for gold up in his nostrils.
What to do? What to do?
Well, I shook his hand. Because there was simply no way out of that without being ill mannered.
But, after they left?
I sped into the bathroom and ran the hot water until it was steaming hot. And then I soaped up my hand and scrubbed as if I were prepping for surgery.
Eww...boogers...
Now, I am not a priss ass. I know that everyone picks their nose. But...good hell...ICK.
It strikes me that I have a big shiver-ick-blecckky time with boogers.
I once was going through a grocery line with Liv when she was a toddler.
The cashier who was checking us through had a rather long thin booger strand hanging out of her nose. It was um...swinging with her head movements.
I was sickeningly fascinated with that booger strand, half terrified that it would fall on my groceries.
And I wasn't the only one who noticed.
Liv, who was just learning to talk and nestled up on my hip, kept pointing at the woman and saying very clearly, "Nose, nose!"
The cashier smiled sweetly at Liv.
"Yes, sweetie pie...that is my nose!" she said. "Would you like a sucker?"
I said okay and she held out a red lolly to Liv, who refused to take it. Even at 2, Liv had her standards.
DO NOT TAKE FOOD FROM BOOGERY HANDS.
So, what are YOUR booger stories? Can you beat mine?
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Maria bakes!
I know. I know. You just keeled over in astonishment.
Well, it was my turn to make dinner tonight and rather than falling back on my old standbys of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup or scrambled eggs and sausage or oatmeal and fruit...or my absolute worst idea: cocoa puffs and peanut butter toast...
I decided to use up the pumpkins in our garden and make pumpkin soup. And not only did I pull it off...but it was GRAND. I impressed myself.
So..here is another recipe (never thought you would see 2 recipes in one year from me, didja?)
Pumpkin Chipotle Soup
1 small dried chipotle chile
1 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 white onion, chopped
1 apple (the sweeter the better, I use a honey crisp one),peeled, cored, and sliced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
3 1/2 cups pumpkin (or one 29 ounce can...but I used the pumpkins in my garden and I always think that fresh is best)
4 1/2 cups vegetable stock (Bing always has stock in the freezer...but I suppose canned would work just fine)
1 teaspoon nutmeg
juice of 1 lime
kosher salt to taste
sour cream
16 cilantro leaves (again...I use herbs from my garden, fresh is just better, so maybe you can pick up some at a farmer's market, if you don't grow your own)
1) In a bowl, cover dried chile with 1 cup of boiling water. Let stand 30 minutes. In a heavy stockpot, heat canola oil on medium-low. Add onion and cook until translucent. Meanwhile, dice chile, removing stem and seeds and reserving liquid. Add chile and apple to the pot and continue cooking about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook for 30 seconds more, just until the garlic is fragrant but not browned.
2) Working quickly, add pumpkin, reserved chile water, vegetable stock and nutmeg and increase heat to bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook another 35 minutes.
3) Remove pot from heat and use a hand blender (or food processor) to puree soup until smooth. Squeeze in juice of one lime and salt to taste. Ladle soup into bowls and top with a dollop of sour cream and a few cilantro leaves.
Liv and Bing loved this and I thought it was pretty good too. I didn't make my own rolls, but I suppose if you can multi-task when you cook (I can't, which is why I will never be in charge of Thanksgiving dinner), you could bake some biscuits. I bought a loaf of sourdough bread at the bakery and we sliced that to go with the soup.
At last! Success at baking!
I thought that Bing was going to keel over when she walked into the kitchen and saw me in an apron, standing at the stove and actually stirring the soup. She literally did a double take.
I feel ridiculously proud of myself. My mother would have hooted at me, a woman who regularly cooked for a haying crew of 14 men on hot summer days, but for me, this is big large news.
I MADE A DINNER AND IT DIDN'T SUCK.
In other news, I turned down the job at Liv's school but am interviewing on Friday with the school district for the counselor's job. Just to see what is what. Can't hurt to see what is out there.
And if you get the chance, take a gander at this fantastic interview withe Bill Maher. I agree with every word he said. I am tempted to e-mail this article to my sisters, but I seriously doubt that they would even take a look at it. One of my sisters actually believes that sometimes Satan sits on my shoulder and makes me do "very sad things" and believe "very wrong beliefs."
Examples of this would be voting Democrat and sending a quarterly check to Nebraskans for Choice.
Being that wicked is so phenomenally easy for me....
Liv brought home her school pictures today. I am not sure what to do. She looks very odd in them and has a hank of hair hanging over one eyebrow. She isn't even smiling. She looks like someone startled her. I suppose we will end up buying them and then they will sit in the office drawer with her photos from last year. I don't know why I buy these every year, it isn't like we don't take zillions of photos of her on our own.
It has been raining all day and is supposed to rain all day tomorrow too. We turned the boiler on for the first time today. You know how it always smells so dusty the first time you turn on the heat in the Autumn?
But, it will feel so grand to tuck under those covers tonight. I love that feeling of sliding my legs under the covers and drifting off to dreamland.
Autumn is full of good things: pumpkin soup, the first day of heating, chilly fingers when you get into your car, turning on the car's heater and holding your stiff, cold fingers up to the warm air oozing out of the dashboard heater...
What comes to mind when you think of Autumn in your neck of the woods?
Just curious....
And, just to be....bad, I told my sister that I couldn't wait to take Liv to see this.
It warmed the cockles of my heart to see my sister's incredulous face.
I never said that I was nice....
Well, it was my turn to make dinner tonight and rather than falling back on my old standbys of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup or scrambled eggs and sausage or oatmeal and fruit...or my absolute worst idea: cocoa puffs and peanut butter toast...
I decided to use up the pumpkins in our garden and make pumpkin soup. And not only did I pull it off...but it was GRAND. I impressed myself.
So..here is another recipe (never thought you would see 2 recipes in one year from me, didja?)
Pumpkin Chipotle Soup
1 small dried chipotle chile
1 cup boiling water
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 white onion, chopped
1 apple (the sweeter the better, I use a honey crisp one),peeled, cored, and sliced
2 cloves of garlic, minced
3 1/2 cups pumpkin (or one 29 ounce can...but I used the pumpkins in my garden and I always think that fresh is best)
4 1/2 cups vegetable stock (Bing always has stock in the freezer...but I suppose canned would work just fine)
1 teaspoon nutmeg
juice of 1 lime
kosher salt to taste
sour cream
16 cilantro leaves (again...I use herbs from my garden, fresh is just better, so maybe you can pick up some at a farmer's market, if you don't grow your own)
1) In a bowl, cover dried chile with 1 cup of boiling water. Let stand 30 minutes. In a heavy stockpot, heat canola oil on medium-low. Add onion and cook until translucent. Meanwhile, dice chile, removing stem and seeds and reserving liquid. Add chile and apple to the pot and continue cooking about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook for 30 seconds more, just until the garlic is fragrant but not browned.
2) Working quickly, add pumpkin, reserved chile water, vegetable stock and nutmeg and increase heat to bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook another 35 minutes.
3) Remove pot from heat and use a hand blender (or food processor) to puree soup until smooth. Squeeze in juice of one lime and salt to taste. Ladle soup into bowls and top with a dollop of sour cream and a few cilantro leaves.
Liv and Bing loved this and I thought it was pretty good too. I didn't make my own rolls, but I suppose if you can multi-task when you cook (I can't, which is why I will never be in charge of Thanksgiving dinner), you could bake some biscuits. I bought a loaf of sourdough bread at the bakery and we sliced that to go with the soup.
At last! Success at baking!
I thought that Bing was going to keel over when she walked into the kitchen and saw me in an apron, standing at the stove and actually stirring the soup. She literally did a double take.
I feel ridiculously proud of myself. My mother would have hooted at me, a woman who regularly cooked for a haying crew of 14 men on hot summer days, but for me, this is big large news.
I MADE A DINNER AND IT DIDN'T SUCK.
In other news, I turned down the job at Liv's school but am interviewing on Friday with the school district for the counselor's job. Just to see what is what. Can't hurt to see what is out there.
And if you get the chance, take a gander at this fantastic interview withe Bill Maher. I agree with every word he said. I am tempted to e-mail this article to my sisters, but I seriously doubt that they would even take a look at it. One of my sisters actually believes that sometimes Satan sits on my shoulder and makes me do "very sad things" and believe "very wrong beliefs."
Examples of this would be voting Democrat and sending a quarterly check to Nebraskans for Choice.
Being that wicked is so phenomenally easy for me....
Liv brought home her school pictures today. I am not sure what to do. She looks very odd in them and has a hank of hair hanging over one eyebrow. She isn't even smiling. She looks like someone startled her. I suppose we will end up buying them and then they will sit in the office drawer with her photos from last year. I don't know why I buy these every year, it isn't like we don't take zillions of photos of her on our own.
It has been raining all day and is supposed to rain all day tomorrow too. We turned the boiler on for the first time today. You know how it always smells so dusty the first time you turn on the heat in the Autumn?
But, it will feel so grand to tuck under those covers tonight. I love that feeling of sliding my legs under the covers and drifting off to dreamland.
Autumn is full of good things: pumpkin soup, the first day of heating, chilly fingers when you get into your car, turning on the car's heater and holding your stiff, cold fingers up to the warm air oozing out of the dashboard heater...
What comes to mind when you think of Autumn in your neck of the woods?
Just curious....
And, just to be....bad, I told my sister that I couldn't wait to take Liv to see this.
It warmed the cockles of my heart to see my sister's incredulous face.
I never said that I was nice....
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Walking home after walking the dog
A blustery, windy day. Socks and I saunter through the neighborhood, happy to see several Obama-Biden signs. But then, our neighborhood is not the norm here in republican saturated Omaha.
But, still...it gives me hope. Our yard sports an Obama sign and also a Jim Esch sign. Since we live near a school that is a polling place, I consider it important to have those signs where everyone can see them.
The trees are losing their bright greens and going into limpid, anemic, watery, yellowish greens now. Once Halloween looms, the trees will be golden and red and the leaves will crunch under my hiking boots as we walk. I will enjoy that.
But, today, I don't even need the bright red sweater I donned just because I was feeling slow and sluggish and needed a boost. Socks hurries along, tugging a bit on the leash and then slowing politely when he notices that I am tired. He is a gallant dog; he stops and pretends deep interest in a cluster of fading moss roses in a rock bed. He knows that climbing that last hill was hard on me.
Socks has...a kindness about him. He is large for a Scottie, nearly 37 pounds when all the books say that he won't pass 34 pounds. They don't know what a bruiser my dog is. A bruiser with a soft heart and gentle eyes.
We are nearly home and the wind picks up a bit, causing me to tug my red sweater around me a little, glad to be wearing it.
It smells like it might rain. I am hoping it will hold off until tonight when I am in bed so that I can cuddle down to the sound of it tip tapping on the roof like a billy goat gruff on a bridge.
We walk inside the mud porch and I take off Sock's leash and find him a dog cruncher. He smiles at me and crunches into it. I hang up his leash and walk into a kitchen all warm with the smell of baking. I take a deep sniff. What is that?
Ah. Yes. Pumpkin bread. Bing has three loaves sitting on the counter. I walk through the house, finding Liv sprawled on the living room floor, reading the funny papers. Bing is in the office, working on a spread sheet for an Apple project that she is working on.
"Can I have a slice of bread?" I ask.
Bing gets up. Suggests that we both have one. She cuts each of us a slice and we carry the bread warm in our hands to go sit out on the back steps. The slab of butter that she laid across my slice melts and slides into the paper napkin. I take a slow, savory bite and close my eyes.
Delicious.
We sit and talk. We talk about the leaves changing, politics, what we have going on this week and how we will pack up the extra loaf of pumpkin bread to send to Sven, our old neighbor boy who is no longer a boy, but a college sophomore and a big football hotshot on the west coast.
You can move the boy to the west coast but you can't take away his love of pumpkin bread made on the prairie.
Bing sighs and rubs my hand, which is resting on her thigh.
"I'm glad you are eating," she says. "I think you are getting too thin."
I lay my head on her shoulder, smelling her unique scent of vanilla, almonds and ivory soap.
Bing gets up after awhile and says she needs to get back to work. We will order pizza later and all watch The Amazing Race together.
After she goes in, I note that she turns on the kitchen light and I have the pleasure of looking into my own home, bathed in a soft yellow light.
The television flickers. I see Liv and Socks laying together on the living room floor; he is on his back, shamelessly begging for a belly rub.
The kitchen table has the Sunday paper spread out on it, the sports section displaying the Husker's heartbreaker of a loss.
The wooden floors are shining. A jar of the last of the roses sits on the dining room table.
A drawing of a sun shining over a bridge is on the fridge. Liv's latest offering of artwork from school.
I sigh and think of this song.
Tomorrow, I will be back to my cynical self. Today is just another beautiful Sunday.
But, still...it gives me hope. Our yard sports an Obama sign and also a Jim Esch sign. Since we live near a school that is a polling place, I consider it important to have those signs where everyone can see them.
The trees are losing their bright greens and going into limpid, anemic, watery, yellowish greens now. Once Halloween looms, the trees will be golden and red and the leaves will crunch under my hiking boots as we walk. I will enjoy that.
But, today, I don't even need the bright red sweater I donned just because I was feeling slow and sluggish and needed a boost. Socks hurries along, tugging a bit on the leash and then slowing politely when he notices that I am tired. He is a gallant dog; he stops and pretends deep interest in a cluster of fading moss roses in a rock bed. He knows that climbing that last hill was hard on me.
Socks has...a kindness about him. He is large for a Scottie, nearly 37 pounds when all the books say that he won't pass 34 pounds. They don't know what a bruiser my dog is. A bruiser with a soft heart and gentle eyes.
We are nearly home and the wind picks up a bit, causing me to tug my red sweater around me a little, glad to be wearing it.
It smells like it might rain. I am hoping it will hold off until tonight when I am in bed so that I can cuddle down to the sound of it tip tapping on the roof like a billy goat gruff on a bridge.
We walk inside the mud porch and I take off Sock's leash and find him a dog cruncher. He smiles at me and crunches into it. I hang up his leash and walk into a kitchen all warm with the smell of baking. I take a deep sniff. What is that?
Ah. Yes. Pumpkin bread. Bing has three loaves sitting on the counter. I walk through the house, finding Liv sprawled on the living room floor, reading the funny papers. Bing is in the office, working on a spread sheet for an Apple project that she is working on.
"Can I have a slice of bread?" I ask.
Bing gets up. Suggests that we both have one. She cuts each of us a slice and we carry the bread warm in our hands to go sit out on the back steps. The slab of butter that she laid across my slice melts and slides into the paper napkin. I take a slow, savory bite and close my eyes.
Delicious.
We sit and talk. We talk about the leaves changing, politics, what we have going on this week and how we will pack up the extra loaf of pumpkin bread to send to Sven, our old neighbor boy who is no longer a boy, but a college sophomore and a big football hotshot on the west coast.
You can move the boy to the west coast but you can't take away his love of pumpkin bread made on the prairie.
Bing sighs and rubs my hand, which is resting on her thigh.
"I'm glad you are eating," she says. "I think you are getting too thin."
I lay my head on her shoulder, smelling her unique scent of vanilla, almonds and ivory soap.
Bing gets up after awhile and says she needs to get back to work. We will order pizza later and all watch The Amazing Race together.
After she goes in, I note that she turns on the kitchen light and I have the pleasure of looking into my own home, bathed in a soft yellow light.
The television flickers. I see Liv and Socks laying together on the living room floor; he is on his back, shamelessly begging for a belly rub.
The kitchen table has the Sunday paper spread out on it, the sports section displaying the Husker's heartbreaker of a loss.
The wooden floors are shining. A jar of the last of the roses sits on the dining room table.
A drawing of a sun shining over a bridge is on the fridge. Liv's latest offering of artwork from school.
I sigh and think of this song.
Tomorrow, I will be back to my cynical self. Today is just another beautiful Sunday.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
A meme, no joy in the Husker nation and another job offer.
Jaysus. When it rains, it pours. I was contacted by a head hunter with a large school district here on the prairie on Friday. I've been offered a job in their employee assistance counseling program.
The pay is about the same as the hospital and the health insurance is similar. So..it is a question of whether I want to change jobs. I don't know. One of the reasons I took the job at the hospital was because it did not entail much one on one contact. It is basically reading and reviewing charts all day long. At the school district, I would be well...counseling school personnel, mostly teachers, I assume. This might not work too well if I am feeling poorly. At the hospital, I can go to work sick and work sick. I don't know how that would fly if I had to be face to face with someone who was in need of mental assistance.
Nothing like spilling your troubles to someone who looks as if they have plenty of their own to wrestle with.
And...their human resources building (yes, I would be working for the dreaded hr department...) is way downtown, almost a half hour away from my home. The hospital is less than five blocks away.
I'd have to wear a suit instead of scrubs.
I'd probably be expected to wear makeup. Look halfway decent.
But, I dunno. I do get so weary of reading charts all the day long.
And Bing reminded me today that a lot of people would truly LOVE to have my dilemma. With unemployment so high, my predicament is a lucky one. I know that.
Something to think about. Any observations?
We watched the Husker/Red Raider game today. It went into overtime. We lost to Texas Tech. And our boys in red played so beautifully against a team that far outranks us. It was a true pleasure to watch all the fans in the stands from Texas sweating bullets after they had been bragging how we were not even in their league....
So...to lose...OUCH. But, we will get over it. And mark my words, the Husker nation won't be down for long....I love Bo Pellini's style of coaching. We are finally back to smash mouth football. I know, I know...why is a non-violent pacifistic person like me shouting "Smash mouth! Smash mouth!" at the television set?
Because I am a Husker. It happens to the best of us....
And now...on to a very short, very interesting meme from my good friend, Just me.
FAVORITE THINGS MEME
1)Favorite clothes shop
Easy. I buy most of my clothes from two catalogs: Anthropologie and Sundance. Bing gets frustrated, says that I should buy my stuff at Goodwill, like she does. But, I can't help it. I love their clothes and it is one of my few indulgences. Their clothes suit me. I think that many women have a hard time finding a label or store that seems to cater to their look. I find exactly what I like in these catalogs. Okay..for jeans and sweatshirts...I go to Target or Husker Heaven. But, if I really want to find something that looks like me, I go to those catalogs.
2)Favorite furniture shop
Another easy one. I go to either Danish Modern or the Shaker store. I like a clean, spare look. This is not to say that I always achieve one. I live with a total slob (that would be you, Bing) who has the odd habit of ironing her jeans and freaking out over toast crumbs on the counter, but yet she stacks her mail in little piles all over the house and leaves her jackets hanging on the kitchen chairs. I only know that I just plain refuse to have my home look like my sister's homes. They reek of Hollie Hobby and Country Kitchen. You walk into their homes and are immediately assaulted by homey plaques and pictures of children in bonnets. Ick. Someone shoot me if I put up a sign in my bathroom that says We aim to please, won't you return the favor?
3)Favorite sweet
That is a hard one because I am diabetic, so sweets are pretty much denied me. I do love chocolate malts but only allow myself one occasionally. I admit that I love a good truffle now and then, especially a white chocolate one. And I ADORE Cadbury Eggs.
4)Favorite city
Chicago. Chicago. Chicago. I have two friends who live there and visiting them is the highlight of my year. They are two gay men partners, one is an oncologist and the other co-owns a Korean grocery store with his sister. Each and every time we visit them, they take me shopping, out to exquisite dinners and dancing in clubs where I get to dress up and wear sparkly little dresses. Plus, they have two extra bedrooms, so we don't have to stay in hotels and they can COOK. I am planning to look up my good buddies, Jill and Earth Muffin the next time I am there. I can think of nothing that would be more fun than sitting around in a bar sharing some conversation with these two women....
5)Favorite drink
Apple martini. I can think of nothing more fun than downing a few of these in Chicago with Jill and Earth Muffin and maybe wearing some snarky dress from Anthropologie and sitting on Danish modern chairs...
6) Favorite music
This is where I confess my ignorance. I just don't have a type of music that defines me. I like most kinds, with the exception of jazz (sorry, Bing...I know this will cause you to raise your eyebrows...) I really like soft rock. There. I said it. I like America and Counting Crows. I have also been introduced lately to music on a British station that Bing listens to once in a while and I admit that I enjoy that too. But, hey...I also like country and western. So..yeah. I live with a musician. You would think that I would have better taste, wouldn't you?
7)Favorite TV series
Ah. Too many to choose one. I like Lost, Heroes, The Amazing Race, 30 Rock, The Office and True Blood. I am not quite a coach potato, but I am in training.
8)Favorite film
Again. Too many to choose from. Lost in Translation. The English Patient. To Kill a Mockingbird. We Are Marshall (cannot escape those football themes!) and anything by Michael Moore.
9) Favorite workout
You're kidding, right? I don't work out. I don't run unless something is on fire. I don't do pilates, yoga or karate. I take a walk every day for at least four miles. That does it for me.
10)Favorite pastries
I have a sick devotion to Krispy Kremes, although I can only eat two bites of a doughnut or else my blood sugar goes into hyper-drive. But, I thoroughly enjoy those two bites....
11) Favorite coffee
I don't like pansy coffee. I like strong cuban coffee or at least coffee with chicory in it. I like the spoon to stand up nicely when I set it in the cup....
And that is all for now....have a good weekend, one and all.
And hey..one last time...
GO HUSKERS!! SMASH MOUTH FOOTBALL RULES!
Oh, and have a nice, peaceful weekend....um, okay?
The pay is about the same as the hospital and the health insurance is similar. So..it is a question of whether I want to change jobs. I don't know. One of the reasons I took the job at the hospital was because it did not entail much one on one contact. It is basically reading and reviewing charts all day long. At the school district, I would be well...counseling school personnel, mostly teachers, I assume. This might not work too well if I am feeling poorly. At the hospital, I can go to work sick and work sick. I don't know how that would fly if I had to be face to face with someone who was in need of mental assistance.
Nothing like spilling your troubles to someone who looks as if they have plenty of their own to wrestle with.
And...their human resources building (yes, I would be working for the dreaded hr department...) is way downtown, almost a half hour away from my home. The hospital is less than five blocks away.
I'd have to wear a suit instead of scrubs.
I'd probably be expected to wear makeup. Look halfway decent.
But, I dunno. I do get so weary of reading charts all the day long.
And Bing reminded me today that a lot of people would truly LOVE to have my dilemma. With unemployment so high, my predicament is a lucky one. I know that.
Something to think about. Any observations?
We watched the Husker/Red Raider game today. It went into overtime. We lost to Texas Tech. And our boys in red played so beautifully against a team that far outranks us. It was a true pleasure to watch all the fans in the stands from Texas sweating bullets after they had been bragging how we were not even in their league....
So...to lose...OUCH. But, we will get over it. And mark my words, the Husker nation won't be down for long....I love Bo Pellini's style of coaching. We are finally back to smash mouth football. I know, I know...why is a non-violent pacifistic person like me shouting "Smash mouth! Smash mouth!" at the television set?
Because I am a Husker. It happens to the best of us....
And now...on to a very short, very interesting meme from my good friend, Just me.
FAVORITE THINGS MEME
1)Favorite clothes shop
Easy. I buy most of my clothes from two catalogs: Anthropologie and Sundance. Bing gets frustrated, says that I should buy my stuff at Goodwill, like she does. But, I can't help it. I love their clothes and it is one of my few indulgences. Their clothes suit me. I think that many women have a hard time finding a label or store that seems to cater to their look. I find exactly what I like in these catalogs. Okay..for jeans and sweatshirts...I go to Target or Husker Heaven. But, if I really want to find something that looks like me, I go to those catalogs.
2)Favorite furniture shop
Another easy one. I go to either Danish Modern or the Shaker store. I like a clean, spare look. This is not to say that I always achieve one. I live with a total slob (that would be you, Bing) who has the odd habit of ironing her jeans and freaking out over toast crumbs on the counter, but yet she stacks her mail in little piles all over the house and leaves her jackets hanging on the kitchen chairs. I only know that I just plain refuse to have my home look like my sister's homes. They reek of Hollie Hobby and Country Kitchen. You walk into their homes and are immediately assaulted by homey plaques and pictures of children in bonnets. Ick. Someone shoot me if I put up a sign in my bathroom that says We aim to please, won't you return the favor?
3)Favorite sweet
That is a hard one because I am diabetic, so sweets are pretty much denied me. I do love chocolate malts but only allow myself one occasionally. I admit that I love a good truffle now and then, especially a white chocolate one. And I ADORE Cadbury Eggs.
4)Favorite city
Chicago. Chicago. Chicago. I have two friends who live there and visiting them is the highlight of my year. They are two gay men partners, one is an oncologist and the other co-owns a Korean grocery store with his sister. Each and every time we visit them, they take me shopping, out to exquisite dinners and dancing in clubs where I get to dress up and wear sparkly little dresses. Plus, they have two extra bedrooms, so we don't have to stay in hotels and they can COOK. I am planning to look up my good buddies, Jill and Earth Muffin the next time I am there. I can think of nothing that would be more fun than sitting around in a bar sharing some conversation with these two women....
5)Favorite drink
Apple martini. I can think of nothing more fun than downing a few of these in Chicago with Jill and Earth Muffin and maybe wearing some snarky dress from Anthropologie and sitting on Danish modern chairs...
6) Favorite music
This is where I confess my ignorance. I just don't have a type of music that defines me. I like most kinds, with the exception of jazz (sorry, Bing...I know this will cause you to raise your eyebrows...) I really like soft rock. There. I said it. I like America and Counting Crows. I have also been introduced lately to music on a British station that Bing listens to once in a while and I admit that I enjoy that too. But, hey...I also like country and western. So..yeah. I live with a musician. You would think that I would have better taste, wouldn't you?
7)Favorite TV series
Ah. Too many to choose one. I like Lost, Heroes, The Amazing Race, 30 Rock, The Office and True Blood. I am not quite a coach potato, but I am in training.
8)Favorite film
Again. Too many to choose from. Lost in Translation. The English Patient. To Kill a Mockingbird. We Are Marshall (cannot escape those football themes!) and anything by Michael Moore.
9) Favorite workout
You're kidding, right? I don't work out. I don't run unless something is on fire. I don't do pilates, yoga or karate. I take a walk every day for at least four miles. That does it for me.
10)Favorite pastries
I have a sick devotion to Krispy Kremes, although I can only eat two bites of a doughnut or else my blood sugar goes into hyper-drive. But, I thoroughly enjoy those two bites....
11) Favorite coffee
I don't like pansy coffee. I like strong cuban coffee or at least coffee with chicory in it. I like the spoon to stand up nicely when I set it in the cup....
And that is all for now....have a good weekend, one and all.
And hey..one last time...
GO HUSKERS!! SMASH MOUTH FOOTBALL RULES!
Oh, and have a nice, peaceful weekend....um, okay?
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Goodbye to Kate, Liv ails and a new job?
Plus...that debate last night. Was it just me or was that one of the most boring debacles that you ever sat through? I nearly fell asleep. Good god, those mandated rules pretty much discouraged any sort of decent back and forth. I have often been bored by McCain (and frankly his overeager down home boy dance leaves me frowning) but rarely have I yawned while listening to Obama. I did last night. Yawned and yawned and yawned.
I woke up this morning and went in Liv's room to get her up for school. She was feverish and glassy eyed. Said that her throat hurt, her head hurt, her eyes burned. I took her temp. It was 102. Poor baby. I gave her some tylenol and told her to sleep in. Asked her if she felt like eating anything. She asked for the mushroom soup that she likes when she is feeling sick. Some kids like chicken noodle. Liv likes mushroom soup. I promised to make some (recipe following, yes...you heard correctly...I am going to actually post a recipe that even I can make...)
I called Hal and Nora (the neighbors that get her off to school each morning.) They immediately went into their grandparent mode and offered to run to the grocery store to get anything Liv might want or need. I rattled off the ingredients that I needed for mushroom soup and they said they'd go right away. I told them that it wasn't THAT important, they didn't need to hop to it and my heart was touched when they responded with, "But, if Liv is feeling badly, we want to HELP!"
I almost choked up. Liv only has one grandparent, her father's mother, but she lives on a reservation in South Dakota and sees her only once or twice a year. I love it that Hal and Nora have become her stand in grandparents. It does take a village and they are so, so generous with their time and attention. So, I simply thanked them.
Then I called the hospital to say that I would not be in today. Rossi, the department head, was already there (it was only SIX a.m...that is job dedication, I suppose) and he reminded me that I would be missing Kate's last day on the job. I sighed. Remembered that Kate was moving on to go into private practice once again. I had been trying not to think about it. She was one of my favorites at work.
"So, you'll miss the goodbye luncheon. We ordered ching chang..," he said.
I reminded him that it is called chinese food not ching chang and said that I would call Kate later in the week to personally say goodbye.
"Don't you go and catch Liv's cold," Rossi implored me, before we hung up.
Your mouth to god's ears as my dearly departed sainted Irish mother would have said....
Then, I called Liv's school and wouldn't you know it, the head mistress was already there too. What was it with all these early birds getting to work at the butt crack of dawn?
Bonnie, the head mistress took down Liv's name and then said that she was glad that I had called, that she had been planning to ask me a question.
Would I be interested in working at Liv's school as the resident guidance counselor?
"I know you are a bit overqualified for the job, but I thought you might make an exception since it would mean that you could be near Liv all day long," she said.
I was surprised. Was silent for a beat and then offered to come in this week to talk more about the position. We agreed on Friday afternoon.
"It only pays blah blah blah," Bonnie said. "I should tell you that right now but it does come with health insurance. I know that might be important to you..."
I told her that I would think about it and we could speak more about it on Friday.
I hung up and sat down in a kitchen chair. Bing came in to make her morning smoothie and I told her what was up. We both agreed that a down side was that the job only paid about three fourths of what I make at the hospital. Plus, Bing reasoned, the health insurance was probably not nearly as comprehensive as that of the hospital, considering it was a tiny Montessori school. But, hey...I would be close to Liv all day, that would be a perk. We agreed to see how Friday went and revisit the topic Friday evening.
Bing left for work and I let Socks out to pee and then started assembling ingredients for Liv's mushroom soup. I made Liv some tea and toast and took it up to her. She managed to take a few bites and then slid back under her covers, too sick to talk much, only wanting to sleep.
I went back downstairs and thought about the offer of the job a bit while I made myself some coffee and munched on a croissant.
Did I really want to take a job like this even if the health insurance was decent? And how sad was that really, what a pathetic comment on American life that HEALTH INSURANCE would dictate whether I took a job or not. Only in America...
Liv's school is small, green and progressive. The population is not more than one hundred students, at least half of them pre-schoolers. What sort of counseling could pre-schoolers need? And really, the truth is that there aren't many troubled youth in Liv's school. The tuition is pretty steep, not that all of the students come from money, but those parents who perform sweat equity to pay for their children's education tend to be very hands on. In fact, parent/teacher meetings are well attended and there seems to be little instance of student behavior problems in the school. I really am left pondering why they even need a guidance counselor.
Plus, I didn't know if I wanted the stigma of being the person who was all up into the student's business and private lives. Surely, this wouldn't sit too well with the other parents, it might make things sticky for Liv along the way. I mean, the elementary section of the school is very small, maybe 35 children in grades 1-8. And I didn't relish getting too involved with the students that Liv attends class with...
This could be a sticky wicket. Plus, the pay is not great.
What do you think? Would you want to be a guidance counselor in your child's school? It gives you something to chew on, yes?
I'll think more on it after my friday meeting...
The doorbell rang and there were Hal and Nora, impeccably dressed, as always. It never fails to amaze me how the older generation does this. Hal and Nora are in their seventies and I have never once seen either of them in jeans or sweat pants. Hal wears chinos and nice shirts and Nora wears dress slacks and sweater sets and pearls. Nora is never without pale pink lipstick. They both look put-together and tidy at all times. Sometimes it seems to me as if they should be the ones going to work instead of me in the morning when I drop Liv off in my sloppy scrubs with my hair messy and not a speck of makeup on my face...
But, there they were at 7:30 in the morning, with a grocery bag and concerned looks on their faces. Could they peek in at Liv? They had picked up a few treats...
I said sure and led them upstairs. Liv smiled wanly when she saw Hal and Nora and they immediately strode to her side. Nora felt her head and said that my oh my she certainly was burning up, wasn't she? Did she want an apple muffin? Nora had baked them last night for Liv's breakfast today. Would she like one warmed up with some honey for her throat? Liv politely declined, said that maybe later she would try one, she was sure looking forward to that. Hal began pulling children's suduko puzzle books out of the grocery bag, plus a bag of lemon drops and a tiny etch-a-sketch.
I smiled. Wow. This was above and beyond neighborly good will.
Liv basked in their sweetness and they stayed for a few minutes and then said that they hoped she felt better tomorrow and reminded me that they were just a hip,hop and a jump away if Liv needed anything. I thanked them profusely as they left.
"Let us take Socks for a walk for you," they offered."We both need to stretch our legs a bit anyway..."
Good lord, can I get any luckier?
Socks was pleased to go with them, looking back at me smiling as they all left. He had been spoiled too. A juicy dog bone had been tucked carefully inside the grocery bag. ("The butcher at the grocery is a good friend of ours and since not too many people were around yet, he just gave us this bone for Socks...")
I rolled up my sleeves and began making mushroom soup. It is ridiculously easy, so much so that even I can make it...
Here is the recipe:
Liv's Sick Day Mushroom Soup.
3 tbsp. olive oil (get the good stuff...it is worth it)
3 cups of diced onions (we use the yellow ones from our garden)
8 oz. crimini mushrooms, sliced
8 oz. shiitake mushrooms, sliced
1 tbsp. chopped fresh thyme (again, fresh is best...we grow our own herbs)
1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg (I have to buy this, but fresh is best)
3 tbsp. brandy
4 cups beef broth (Bing always has homemade broth in the freezer...I'm lucky)
Directions
Saute onions in olive oil over medium-high heat about 5 minutes until they soften and begin turning golden. Add mushrooms and saute abotu 5 minutes, until they begin to brown. Add thyme and nutmeg, stirring and cooking 2 minutes more. Add brandy and stir well for 30 seconds. Add broth. Allow soup to come to a boil, rduce heat to simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.
I wish that I could say that this was an old family recipe, but I think I found it in a cookbook somewhere. All I know is that it is easy and Liv loves it. And the best thing? It is SO good for you, aids antioxidants, lowers cancer risk, aids red blood cell production and wards off heart disease. Plus, it soothes the crankiness of a cold, I believe.
So, I made the soup. Liv slept all morning. Socks came back from his walk, as happy as a lark and tucked into his bone. After he gnawed for awhile, I found an extra mushroom and threw it on the floor for him to bat around. I swear that that dog has cat blood. He loves nothing more than to bat things around. This morning, he even laid on his back and played with the mushroom with his front paws, looking almost deliciously adorable. I stepped over him to get something, looked down and burst out laughing. He had the mushroom stem in his mouth. This gave him the look of having very puffy whitish brown mushroom lips.
He didn't eat the mushroom, though. He was sated from his juicy marrow bone and there was no lure for him to eat mushrooms after that. After he batted it around for a bit, I tossed it out to the birds and was not surprised when my favorite cardinal came around and stole it for breakfast for he and his lady love. I had no idea that birds ate mushrooms...
Liv was feeling better at lunchtime and she ate a big bowl of the soup. I am not kidding when I tell you that this soup is miraculous. By the time she polished off the bowl, her cheeks began to get color and she said she felt well enough to come downstairs and watch some television with me on the sofa.
That is how we spent the afternoon. We turned on the movie channel, found this and watched the whole length of it, laying on the sofa together under the cashmere throw with Socks keeping our toes warm. Liv had never seen it and sharing it with her was priceless.
She is better now, her fever down to 99. A friend dropped her homework off and now she is sitting at the dining room table doing math story problems, her pencil poised, her tongue working in and out of her mouth as she concentrates.
Hal and Nora tucked popsicles into the groceries this morning and I let Liv have two while watching the movie, so now her lips are stained cherry red, looking startling in her face.
Socks is back to gnawing his bone.
Bing is on her way home and has agreed to stop and pick up some thai food on her way.
My throat doesn't hurt. I think I may have managed to dodge the cold bullet.
Tomorrow, Liv will go back to school and I will go back to work. Kate won't be there and I will miss her but I'm sure that someone interesting will take her place.
I'll lay in bed tonight thinking about the job offer, wondering if I should take it, probably deciding that it isn't really a good idea. I need that stellar health insurance and need my bigger salary at the hospital. But, it is nice to be offered something, you know?
Hal and Nora called to say that they hoped Liv was better and that Nora planned to make egg and sausage scramble for Liv's breakfast tomorrow.
We will finish up the apple muffins with dinner.
Not too bad for a sick day....
I woke up this morning and went in Liv's room to get her up for school. She was feverish and glassy eyed. Said that her throat hurt, her head hurt, her eyes burned. I took her temp. It was 102. Poor baby. I gave her some tylenol and told her to sleep in. Asked her if she felt like eating anything. She asked for the mushroom soup that she likes when she is feeling sick. Some kids like chicken noodle. Liv likes mushroom soup. I promised to make some (recipe following, yes...you heard correctly...I am going to actually post a recipe that even I can make...)
I called Hal and Nora (the neighbors that get her off to school each morning.) They immediately went into their grandparent mode and offered to run to the grocery store to get anything Liv might want or need. I rattled off the ingredients that I needed for mushroom soup and they said they'd go right away. I told them that it wasn't THAT important, they didn't need to hop to it and my heart was touched when they responded with, "But, if Liv is feeling badly, we want to HELP!"
I almost choked up. Liv only has one grandparent, her father's mother, but she lives on a reservation in South Dakota and sees her only once or twice a year. I love it that Hal and Nora have become her stand in grandparents. It does take a village and they are so, so generous with their time and attention. So, I simply thanked them.
Then I called the hospital to say that I would not be in today. Rossi, the department head, was already there (it was only SIX a.m...that is job dedication, I suppose) and he reminded me that I would be missing Kate's last day on the job. I sighed. Remembered that Kate was moving on to go into private practice once again. I had been trying not to think about it. She was one of my favorites at work.
"So, you'll miss the goodbye luncheon. We ordered ching chang..," he said.
I reminded him that it is called chinese food not ching chang and said that I would call Kate later in the week to personally say goodbye.
"Don't you go and catch Liv's cold," Rossi implored me, before we hung up.
Your mouth to god's ears as my dearly departed sainted Irish mother would have said....
Then, I called Liv's school and wouldn't you know it, the head mistress was already there too. What was it with all these early birds getting to work at the butt crack of dawn?
Bonnie, the head mistress took down Liv's name and then said that she was glad that I had called, that she had been planning to ask me a question.
Would I be interested in working at Liv's school as the resident guidance counselor?
"I know you are a bit overqualified for the job, but I thought you might make an exception since it would mean that you could be near Liv all day long," she said.
I was surprised. Was silent for a beat and then offered to come in this week to talk more about the position. We agreed on Friday afternoon.
"It only pays blah blah blah," Bonnie said. "I should tell you that right now but it does come with health insurance. I know that might be important to you..."
I told her that I would think about it and we could speak more about it on Friday.
I hung up and sat down in a kitchen chair. Bing came in to make her morning smoothie and I told her what was up. We both agreed that a down side was that the job only paid about three fourths of what I make at the hospital. Plus, Bing reasoned, the health insurance was probably not nearly as comprehensive as that of the hospital, considering it was a tiny Montessori school. But, hey...I would be close to Liv all day, that would be a perk. We agreed to see how Friday went and revisit the topic Friday evening.
Bing left for work and I let Socks out to pee and then started assembling ingredients for Liv's mushroom soup. I made Liv some tea and toast and took it up to her. She managed to take a few bites and then slid back under her covers, too sick to talk much, only wanting to sleep.
I went back downstairs and thought about the offer of the job a bit while I made myself some coffee and munched on a croissant.
Did I really want to take a job like this even if the health insurance was decent? And how sad was that really, what a pathetic comment on American life that HEALTH INSURANCE would dictate whether I took a job or not. Only in America...
Liv's school is small, green and progressive. The population is not more than one hundred students, at least half of them pre-schoolers. What sort of counseling could pre-schoolers need? And really, the truth is that there aren't many troubled youth in Liv's school. The tuition is pretty steep, not that all of the students come from money, but those parents who perform sweat equity to pay for their children's education tend to be very hands on. In fact, parent/teacher meetings are well attended and there seems to be little instance of student behavior problems in the school. I really am left pondering why they even need a guidance counselor.
Plus, I didn't know if I wanted the stigma of being the person who was all up into the student's business and private lives. Surely, this wouldn't sit too well with the other parents, it might make things sticky for Liv along the way. I mean, the elementary section of the school is very small, maybe 35 children in grades 1-8. And I didn't relish getting too involved with the students that Liv attends class with...
This could be a sticky wicket. Plus, the pay is not great.
What do you think? Would you want to be a guidance counselor in your child's school? It gives you something to chew on, yes?
I'll think more on it after my friday meeting...
The doorbell rang and there were Hal and Nora, impeccably dressed, as always. It never fails to amaze me how the older generation does this. Hal and Nora are in their seventies and I have never once seen either of them in jeans or sweat pants. Hal wears chinos and nice shirts and Nora wears dress slacks and sweater sets and pearls. Nora is never without pale pink lipstick. They both look put-together and tidy at all times. Sometimes it seems to me as if they should be the ones going to work instead of me in the morning when I drop Liv off in my sloppy scrubs with my hair messy and not a speck of makeup on my face...
But, there they were at 7:30 in the morning, with a grocery bag and concerned looks on their faces. Could they peek in at Liv? They had picked up a few treats...
I said sure and led them upstairs. Liv smiled wanly when she saw Hal and Nora and they immediately strode to her side. Nora felt her head and said that my oh my she certainly was burning up, wasn't she? Did she want an apple muffin? Nora had baked them last night for Liv's breakfast today. Would she like one warmed up with some honey for her throat? Liv politely declined, said that maybe later she would try one, she was sure looking forward to that. Hal began pulling children's suduko puzzle books out of the grocery bag, plus a bag of lemon drops and a tiny etch-a-sketch.
I smiled. Wow. This was above and beyond neighborly good will.
Liv basked in their sweetness and they stayed for a few minutes and then said that they hoped she felt better tomorrow and reminded me that they were just a hip,hop and a jump away if Liv needed anything. I thanked them profusely as they left.
"Let us take Socks for a walk for you," they offered."We both need to stretch our legs a bit anyway..."
Good lord, can I get any luckier?
Socks was pleased to go with them, looking back at me smiling as they all left. He had been spoiled too. A juicy dog bone had been tucked carefully inside the grocery bag. ("The butcher at the grocery is a good friend of ours and since not too many people were around yet, he just gave us this bone for Socks...")
I rolled up my sleeves and began making mushroom soup. It is ridiculously easy, so much so that even I can make it...
Here is the recipe:
Liv's Sick Day Mushroom Soup.
3 tbsp. olive oil (get the good stuff...it is worth it)
3 cups of diced onions (we use the yellow ones from our garden)
8 oz. crimini mushrooms, sliced
8 oz. shiitake mushrooms, sliced
1 tbsp. chopped fresh thyme (again, fresh is best...we grow our own herbs)
1/2 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg (I have to buy this, but fresh is best)
3 tbsp. brandy
4 cups beef broth (Bing always has homemade broth in the freezer...I'm lucky)
Directions
Saute onions in olive oil over medium-high heat about 5 minutes until they soften and begin turning golden. Add mushrooms and saute abotu 5 minutes, until they begin to brown. Add thyme and nutmeg, stirring and cooking 2 minutes more. Add brandy and stir well for 30 seconds. Add broth. Allow soup to come to a boil, rduce heat to simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste.
I wish that I could say that this was an old family recipe, but I think I found it in a cookbook somewhere. All I know is that it is easy and Liv loves it. And the best thing? It is SO good for you, aids antioxidants, lowers cancer risk, aids red blood cell production and wards off heart disease. Plus, it soothes the crankiness of a cold, I believe.
So, I made the soup. Liv slept all morning. Socks came back from his walk, as happy as a lark and tucked into his bone. After he gnawed for awhile, I found an extra mushroom and threw it on the floor for him to bat around. I swear that that dog has cat blood. He loves nothing more than to bat things around. This morning, he even laid on his back and played with the mushroom with his front paws, looking almost deliciously adorable. I stepped over him to get something, looked down and burst out laughing. He had the mushroom stem in his mouth. This gave him the look of having very puffy whitish brown mushroom lips.
He didn't eat the mushroom, though. He was sated from his juicy marrow bone and there was no lure for him to eat mushrooms after that. After he batted it around for a bit, I tossed it out to the birds and was not surprised when my favorite cardinal came around and stole it for breakfast for he and his lady love. I had no idea that birds ate mushrooms...
Liv was feeling better at lunchtime and she ate a big bowl of the soup. I am not kidding when I tell you that this soup is miraculous. By the time she polished off the bowl, her cheeks began to get color and she said she felt well enough to come downstairs and watch some television with me on the sofa.
That is how we spent the afternoon. We turned on the movie channel, found this and watched the whole length of it, laying on the sofa together under the cashmere throw with Socks keeping our toes warm. Liv had never seen it and sharing it with her was priceless.
She is better now, her fever down to 99. A friend dropped her homework off and now she is sitting at the dining room table doing math story problems, her pencil poised, her tongue working in and out of her mouth as she concentrates.
Hal and Nora tucked popsicles into the groceries this morning and I let Liv have two while watching the movie, so now her lips are stained cherry red, looking startling in her face.
Socks is back to gnawing his bone.
Bing is on her way home and has agreed to stop and pick up some thai food on her way.
My throat doesn't hurt. I think I may have managed to dodge the cold bullet.
Tomorrow, Liv will go back to school and I will go back to work. Kate won't be there and I will miss her but I'm sure that someone interesting will take her place.
I'll lay in bed tonight thinking about the job offer, wondering if I should take it, probably deciding that it isn't really a good idea. I need that stellar health insurance and need my bigger salary at the hospital. But, it is nice to be offered something, you know?
Hal and Nora called to say that they hoped Liv was better and that Nora planned to make egg and sausage scramble for Liv's breakfast tomorrow.
We will finish up the apple muffins with dinner.
Not too bad for a sick day....
Saturday, October 04, 2008
Playing hookey
Yesterday, I spent the entire morning at my doctor's office, undergoing test after test, getting prodded and poked every which way.
When I emerged from needle city around 11 a.m., I decided that I was entitled to take the rest of the day off. I called in to work to say that I planned to skip the rest of the day and would try to come in on Sunday to play catch up.
And then, I thought to myself...what should I do now?
I knew exactly who I wanted to spend my time with.
I went to Liv's school and sprung her. I stopped in the head mistress' office and told them that I would be taking Liv for the rest of the day. Liv goes to the sort of school where they don't blink an eye at that sort of shit. They are actually excited for her. ("Oh, how nice that you are spending the afternoon with Livvie! She will be so thrilled!")
When I went to Liv's classroom, she was finishing up a math test. She looked up, confused. What was I doing there?
I spoke to her teacher who smiled and nodded and then I went up to Liv and asked her if she felt like getting out of school early...
She certainly did.
We practically skipped to the car.
"Well," I asked her, "What should we do now? Are you hungry? Should we go out for some lunch?"
Liv thought this was a fine idea. We discussed where to go. Should we go to Whole Foods and get a salad? Maybe go to our favorite vegetarian cafe?
I told Liv that I sincerely felt like walking on the edgy side today, breaking some rules. I wanted to get some...dare I admit it? FAST FOOD!
Liv and I exchanged a guilty glance before we both shouted:
TACO HELL!
That would be um...Taco Bell.
Yeah. That place. Evil fast food. Bing would shake a finger if she knew we were going to go here. And that made it all the more perfect for a day like today.
Liv and I sat happily eating in a tacky looking bright red booth at Taco Bell. I had the enchilada special and she had her guilty pleasure: hard shell tacos and beans.
We ordered an order of nachos too, for good measure.
And yes, we ate like happy pigs.
Liv sighed. "I wish that Socks were here," she commented. "He loves taco chips and salsa..."
He does. Not that we let Bing see us feeding him that shit...
Bing strongly believes that dogs should only eat dog food. And she is absolutely right. Of course, she is.
I sat licking the cheese and sauce off of my fingers, giggling happily with my daughter as we discussed how stupid the boys in her class were.
I thought to myself that I was sitting with my favorite child on the planet and eating a truly wonderful awful meal.
Bliss.
We talked about the vice presidential debate. We have let Liv stay up to watch the debates this year. I think it is important that she see how this process works, to make up her own mind. And her thoughts were pretty mature, I thought.
Liv: Mostly, I liked the vice presidential debate better. Joe and Sarah acted like they respected each other and they almost looked like two friends who had different opinions. I like it that they didn't look like they disliked each other. I thought that John acted like he could barely stand Barack and he kept saying things like, "Well, I don't think Mr. Obama gets it, he just doesn't understand." He said it in a mean way, too. Like...he wouldn't look at Barack directly, talked only to the reporter guy, like he wasn't there or something. It was rude. He was acting like he was this wise man and Barack was stupid. And Barack was so nice to him, when he disagreed with him, he said so, but didn't do it in a mean way. But, I thought that Sarah acted kind of stupid when she kept winking and saying things like "you betcha" and "darn right." It made her look silly and she looked like she was doing it on purpose to make people think she was like...more real or something. I liked Joe better. He smiled a lot and made sure to say his opinion but didn't get pushy or cutesy about it.
I wonder if the McCain-Palin advisers know that even a nine year can see through them.....
After lunch, we went to Target. And we bought...stuff. Stuff we didn't really need. I bought some blueberry jam, some Burt's Bees eye gel and vanilla bubble bath. I let Liv get a new lunch bag (a Beatles one to replace her Andy Warhol one) and some new colorful socks.
Just because stuff. We also bought new bath sponges.
Sometimes you just need to go to Target and buy stuff.
Then we decided to stop at the nursery and pick up a few pumpkins to carve. We planted pumpkins this year, like always, but they caught some sort of bug and are all smooshy. Not good for carving or decorating. So..we found a few nicely shaped pumpkins to make jack-o-lanterns with. We also found a bird house made from a coconut and bought that too. As I was lugging them out to the car, Liv slipped back into the store to pick up "one more thing" and she came out with two beautiful roses. A red one for me and a pink one for her.
"So, we will always remember how fun it was to play hookey," she said.
Like I would need a reminder?
I took a long sniff of my rose, it was lovely. So was my Liv.
Then we went home to spring Socks too. We had decided to take him to the park for a run and some frisbee throwing.
It was a gorgeous day. Not cold, not warm. Perfect.
We threw the frisbee for Socks until our arms ached. Then while Socks lay in the grass, panting and smiling, Liv and I found swings and pumped and pumped until we were both soaring.
"Remember when I was little and you were trying to teach me how to pump my legs and you kept saying that I should try to touch the sky with my feet?" Liv said, her head thrown back, smiling at me.
Yes, I said. I remembered.
God, wasn't that yesterday? It seems like it was.
Remember how I would sit in your lap and we would go so very high?" Liv recalled.
I told her that I remembered that too. Did she want to do that now?
Liv frowned. "Do you think we are too big to sit in the same swing?"
I said that I thought we would be okay. So, we tried it. She sat in my lap, facing me and up we went.
It was glorious. Back and forth, back and forth in our swing. I sat facing my Liv, her face inches from mine, her hands gripping the swing right above mine.
God, when she did get to be NINE??? I was starting to edge into sentimental teary blearyville, so I took myself sternly in hand. Enough.
I skidded to a stop and Liv went off to climb the jungle gym while Socks and I watched her. My cell phone rang. It was Bing.
"I just wanted to see how your doctor's appointment went," she asked.
I told her that it was okay, but that apparently I was anemic again. Not as dangerously so as the last time, but enough that I had to go on iron pills again.
"Why don't we go out for dinner tonight, get you a big juicy steak?" she suggested. "Lots of protein."
I agreed, told her that Liv and I had played hookey all afternoon. I could feel her frowning over the phone.
"So...was there bad news?" she asked, her voice working to sound nonchalant.
No, I told her. I just hadn't been able to go back to work, was sick of the smell of a hospital, needed to smell Liv instead.
"You should see her right now," I told Bing. "She is hanging upside down on the monkey bars. She is such a daredevil..."
"Like mother, like daughter," Bing mused.
We hung up then, but I thought to myself that really, I am not much of a daredevil anymore. I am no risk taker, as a rule. I tend to play it safe, keep my cards close to my chest. Mostly, I just prefer my life to stay on course. I don't seek danger or even change much anymore. It is something that I have learned from being so ill so often lately.
I like my life...as is.
I am settled and happily so. I will never doubt that perfection resides anywhere else but my own back yard. I don't ache for change, for excitement anymore. I yearn for things to stay the same.
Liv and I laid in the grass with Socks for awhile and then decided it was time to go home. Socks wasn't ready yet and insisted on giving us a chase and then ran into a creek and dared us to come in after him.
"Fine," I told him. "You can live on berries and squirrels and live here. No more dog crunchers for you, mister."
I took Liv's hand and instructed her to ignore him and walk with me to the car.
Eventually, he caught up, looking sweetly contrite. ("Hey, alpha woman, I was just kidding. Can't you take a joke? C'mon, you know you love me, you KNOW you do.)
Okay, I do. I love my dog. I love my child. I love my partner. I love my life.
I love the fact that we all went out for dinner last night and that I had a delicious rare sirloin steak and Bing had a salmon sandwich and Liv, a bowl of french onion soup. I love that we stopped at Dairy Queen for cones on the way home.
I love that when we got home, we all sat outside and Bing played her guitar while Liv and I sat on the back steps with Socks laying between us and shivered a little bit in the slightly nippy air, sweaters tucked around our nightgowns.
I love it that I woke up at 2:45 a.m. and got up to pee and check on Liv and went in to her room to find her cold little foot sticking out of the covers. I tucked it back in and bent to kiss Socks on the top of his head while he sleepily looked up at me from his perch on the end of Liv's bed.
"Good dog," I whispered to him. "Even though you seriously need a bath after that creek dip."
I love how his tail wagged lazily back and forth. He knows that I love him even if he stinks sometimes.
I love how there was blueberry jam and crumpets for breakfast and hot chicory coffee.
I love how we are going to drive to Lincoln soon to go to the Husker game.
I love going outside and plucking the last of my tomatoes off the vine and knowing that we will have sliced tomatoes with baked chicken tomorrow.
Maybe we all need to play hookey more often, yes?
When I emerged from needle city around 11 a.m., I decided that I was entitled to take the rest of the day off. I called in to work to say that I planned to skip the rest of the day and would try to come in on Sunday to play catch up.
And then, I thought to myself...what should I do now?
I knew exactly who I wanted to spend my time with.
I went to Liv's school and sprung her. I stopped in the head mistress' office and told them that I would be taking Liv for the rest of the day. Liv goes to the sort of school where they don't blink an eye at that sort of shit. They are actually excited for her. ("Oh, how nice that you are spending the afternoon with Livvie! She will be so thrilled!")
When I went to Liv's classroom, she was finishing up a math test. She looked up, confused. What was I doing there?
I spoke to her teacher who smiled and nodded and then I went up to Liv and asked her if she felt like getting out of school early...
She certainly did.
We practically skipped to the car.
"Well," I asked her, "What should we do now? Are you hungry? Should we go out for some lunch?"
Liv thought this was a fine idea. We discussed where to go. Should we go to Whole Foods and get a salad? Maybe go to our favorite vegetarian cafe?
I told Liv that I sincerely felt like walking on the edgy side today, breaking some rules. I wanted to get some...dare I admit it? FAST FOOD!
Liv and I exchanged a guilty glance before we both shouted:
TACO HELL!
That would be um...Taco Bell.
Yeah. That place. Evil fast food. Bing would shake a finger if she knew we were going to go here. And that made it all the more perfect for a day like today.
Liv and I sat happily eating in a tacky looking bright red booth at Taco Bell. I had the enchilada special and she had her guilty pleasure: hard shell tacos and beans.
We ordered an order of nachos too, for good measure.
And yes, we ate like happy pigs.
Liv sighed. "I wish that Socks were here," she commented. "He loves taco chips and salsa..."
He does. Not that we let Bing see us feeding him that shit...
Bing strongly believes that dogs should only eat dog food. And she is absolutely right. Of course, she is.
I sat licking the cheese and sauce off of my fingers, giggling happily with my daughter as we discussed how stupid the boys in her class were.
I thought to myself that I was sitting with my favorite child on the planet and eating a truly wonderful awful meal.
Bliss.
We talked about the vice presidential debate. We have let Liv stay up to watch the debates this year. I think it is important that she see how this process works, to make up her own mind. And her thoughts were pretty mature, I thought.
Liv: Mostly, I liked the vice presidential debate better. Joe and Sarah acted like they respected each other and they almost looked like two friends who had different opinions. I like it that they didn't look like they disliked each other. I thought that John acted like he could barely stand Barack and he kept saying things like, "Well, I don't think Mr. Obama gets it, he just doesn't understand." He said it in a mean way, too. Like...he wouldn't look at Barack directly, talked only to the reporter guy, like he wasn't there or something. It was rude. He was acting like he was this wise man and Barack was stupid. And Barack was so nice to him, when he disagreed with him, he said so, but didn't do it in a mean way. But, I thought that Sarah acted kind of stupid when she kept winking and saying things like "you betcha" and "darn right." It made her look silly and she looked like she was doing it on purpose to make people think she was like...more real or something. I liked Joe better. He smiled a lot and made sure to say his opinion but didn't get pushy or cutesy about it.
I wonder if the McCain-Palin advisers know that even a nine year can see through them.....
After lunch, we went to Target. And we bought...stuff. Stuff we didn't really need. I bought some blueberry jam, some Burt's Bees eye gel and vanilla bubble bath. I let Liv get a new lunch bag (a Beatles one to replace her Andy Warhol one) and some new colorful socks.
Just because stuff. We also bought new bath sponges.
Sometimes you just need to go to Target and buy stuff.
Then we decided to stop at the nursery and pick up a few pumpkins to carve. We planted pumpkins this year, like always, but they caught some sort of bug and are all smooshy. Not good for carving or decorating. So..we found a few nicely shaped pumpkins to make jack-o-lanterns with. We also found a bird house made from a coconut and bought that too. As I was lugging them out to the car, Liv slipped back into the store to pick up "one more thing" and she came out with two beautiful roses. A red one for me and a pink one for her.
"So, we will always remember how fun it was to play hookey," she said.
Like I would need a reminder?
I took a long sniff of my rose, it was lovely. So was my Liv.
Then we went home to spring Socks too. We had decided to take him to the park for a run and some frisbee throwing.
It was a gorgeous day. Not cold, not warm. Perfect.
We threw the frisbee for Socks until our arms ached. Then while Socks lay in the grass, panting and smiling, Liv and I found swings and pumped and pumped until we were both soaring.
"Remember when I was little and you were trying to teach me how to pump my legs and you kept saying that I should try to touch the sky with my feet?" Liv said, her head thrown back, smiling at me.
Yes, I said. I remembered.
God, wasn't that yesterday? It seems like it was.
Remember how I would sit in your lap and we would go so very high?" Liv recalled.
I told her that I remembered that too. Did she want to do that now?
Liv frowned. "Do you think we are too big to sit in the same swing?"
I said that I thought we would be okay. So, we tried it. She sat in my lap, facing me and up we went.
It was glorious. Back and forth, back and forth in our swing. I sat facing my Liv, her face inches from mine, her hands gripping the swing right above mine.
God, when she did get to be NINE??? I was starting to edge into sentimental teary blearyville, so I took myself sternly in hand. Enough.
I skidded to a stop and Liv went off to climb the jungle gym while Socks and I watched her. My cell phone rang. It was Bing.
"I just wanted to see how your doctor's appointment went," she asked.
I told her that it was okay, but that apparently I was anemic again. Not as dangerously so as the last time, but enough that I had to go on iron pills again.
"Why don't we go out for dinner tonight, get you a big juicy steak?" she suggested. "Lots of protein."
I agreed, told her that Liv and I had played hookey all afternoon. I could feel her frowning over the phone.
"So...was there bad news?" she asked, her voice working to sound nonchalant.
No, I told her. I just hadn't been able to go back to work, was sick of the smell of a hospital, needed to smell Liv instead.
"You should see her right now," I told Bing. "She is hanging upside down on the monkey bars. She is such a daredevil..."
"Like mother, like daughter," Bing mused.
We hung up then, but I thought to myself that really, I am not much of a daredevil anymore. I am no risk taker, as a rule. I tend to play it safe, keep my cards close to my chest. Mostly, I just prefer my life to stay on course. I don't seek danger or even change much anymore. It is something that I have learned from being so ill so often lately.
I like my life...as is.
I am settled and happily so. I will never doubt that perfection resides anywhere else but my own back yard. I don't ache for change, for excitement anymore. I yearn for things to stay the same.
Liv and I laid in the grass with Socks for awhile and then decided it was time to go home. Socks wasn't ready yet and insisted on giving us a chase and then ran into a creek and dared us to come in after him.
"Fine," I told him. "You can live on berries and squirrels and live here. No more dog crunchers for you, mister."
I took Liv's hand and instructed her to ignore him and walk with me to the car.
Eventually, he caught up, looking sweetly contrite. ("Hey, alpha woman, I was just kidding. Can't you take a joke? C'mon, you know you love me, you KNOW you do.)
Okay, I do. I love my dog. I love my child. I love my partner. I love my life.
I love the fact that we all went out for dinner last night and that I had a delicious rare sirloin steak and Bing had a salmon sandwich and Liv, a bowl of french onion soup. I love that we stopped at Dairy Queen for cones on the way home.
I love that when we got home, we all sat outside and Bing played her guitar while Liv and I sat on the back steps with Socks laying between us and shivered a little bit in the slightly nippy air, sweaters tucked around our nightgowns.
I love it that I woke up at 2:45 a.m. and got up to pee and check on Liv and went in to her room to find her cold little foot sticking out of the covers. I tucked it back in and bent to kiss Socks on the top of his head while he sleepily looked up at me from his perch on the end of Liv's bed.
"Good dog," I whispered to him. "Even though you seriously need a bath after that creek dip."
I love how his tail wagged lazily back and forth. He knows that I love him even if he stinks sometimes.
I love how there was blueberry jam and crumpets for breakfast and hot chicory coffee.
I love how we are going to drive to Lincoln soon to go to the Husker game.
I love going outside and plucking the last of my tomatoes off the vine and knowing that we will have sliced tomatoes with baked chicken tomorrow.
Maybe we all need to play hookey more often, yes?
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
One of those days...
One of those days at the office that seems WAY longer than eight hours...
I had my password suspended for the 4th time in two weeks. I was informed by my computer screen that my password had been suspended for "password violations." I'm not sure exactly what that is but I can report that my computer seemed pretty pissed off at me. Apparently, I am the only hospital employee to achieve this distinction. I slunk in again to Christabelle's dungeon to report my failings as a computer user. She was not pleased, said that I generated more work for her than all the rest of the hospital employees put together.
"I need a fuckin' raise because of your moronic ass. Your name's trouble," she said.
As we say here on the prairie...Well, that just got my dander up. It sure nuff did raise my hackles. Set my teeth on edge. Buttered my bisquit but good.
You get the picture.
I told her that, okay, I may be a computer dimwit, but I certainly did not go around calling people--who did not deserve it--vile, stinking names.
Yeah. Wow. That popped her pants good. I could see that it hurt her really, really a lot. She snickered and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, go and get over yo'self, lady jane," she said. She told me to go back to my office and she'd be up in an hour or so after she unsnaggled all the knots I had made and bring me my new password.
True to her word, she showed up an hour later, my new password in hand.
It was HOTBOD 08.
Very funny.
After lunch, I tried to settle down with my charts and decided that I just didn't have it in me yet to tackle them.
I looked over at my co-worker, Kate.
"This is a day for a very special song," I informed her.
She looked at me warily, her eyebrows raising over her Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. We had been one upping each other for weeks now, trying to find that elusively perfect very bad-good song.
I leaned over and softly began to sing.
I remember to this day the bright red Georgia clay and how it stuck to the tires after the summer rain. Will power made that old car go. A woman's mind told me that's so. Oh, I wish we were back on the road again...
Kate chortled and joined me.
Me and you and a dog named Boo traveling and a livin' off the la-and. Me and you and a dog named Boo. How I love bein' a free man...
By now, we were both on our feet and performing in classic Sonny and Cher style as we finished up the song gallantly for our less than excited co-workers.
I can still recall the wheat fields of Saint Paul and the mornin' we got caught robbin' from an old hen. Old McDonald, he made us work, but then he paid us for what it was worth. Another tank of gas....and back on the road again...
I felt better after that and sank down to finish up my charts.
But, Kate wasn't ready to pack it in.
"I can beat that," she said.
"Try," I challenged her.
She began to sing on her own.
Dance with me. I want to be your partner. Can't you see the music is just starting? Night is falling and I am falling. Dance with me...
I held up my hand. "Stop right now. That song is not going to be one of our bad songs. That's one of Bing and my songs."
Kate gave me a long, withering look before she managed to utter, "Ewww."
"What do you mean, EWW?" I asked her. Dance With Me is a fine old song.
"It's a sappy ass song and you know it," she answered.
"Them's fightin' words," I reiterated. "Bing sings that song to me when I am mad and she is trying to suck up to me. I sometimes get danced around the room and am given a cadbury egg if I can stay mad long enough."
She reconsidered.
"Ok," she conceded. "As long as as you get a cadbury egg out of it."
I nodded solemnly. I didn't mention the fact that once Bing sang the entire length of Your Body Is A Wonderland to me while strumming her guitar and following me around the house.
Some things are just too dribbly to talk about in public. But, if you ever want to get your partner to get naked with you, I highly recommend this tune if you have the voice for it. It worked for Bing. I know that much. Because while my body is truly more of a war zone than a wonderland, she knew to sing it with gusto and hey, playing the guitar helped too. I am a sucker for a musician......
"Righto," Kate went on, thinking deeply. "Ok. I have it!"
She took a deep breath.
"Where's the playground, Susie? If I decide to let you go and play around?Where's the playground, Susie? If I don't stay around....
She wailed this with true Glen Campbell flair.
I smiled. "Oh. yes...much better!" I told her, happily.
We were finally both ready to get back to work.
Sighing, I keyed in my password: HOTBOD08.
God, was this day over yet?
I had my password suspended for the 4th time in two weeks. I was informed by my computer screen that my password had been suspended for "password violations." I'm not sure exactly what that is but I can report that my computer seemed pretty pissed off at me. Apparently, I am the only hospital employee to achieve this distinction. I slunk in again to Christabelle's dungeon to report my failings as a computer user. She was not pleased, said that I generated more work for her than all the rest of the hospital employees put together.
"I need a fuckin' raise because of your moronic ass. Your name's trouble," she said.
As we say here on the prairie...Well, that just got my dander up. It sure nuff did raise my hackles. Set my teeth on edge. Buttered my bisquit but good.
You get the picture.
I told her that, okay, I may be a computer dimwit, but I certainly did not go around calling people--who did not deserve it--vile, stinking names.
Yeah. Wow. That popped her pants good. I could see that it hurt her really, really a lot. She snickered and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, go and get over yo'self, lady jane," she said. She told me to go back to my office and she'd be up in an hour or so after she unsnaggled all the knots I had made and bring me my new password.
True to her word, she showed up an hour later, my new password in hand.
It was HOTBOD 08.
Very funny.
After lunch, I tried to settle down with my charts and decided that I just didn't have it in me yet to tackle them.
I looked over at my co-worker, Kate.
"This is a day for a very special song," I informed her.
She looked at me warily, her eyebrows raising over her Sally Jessy Raphael glasses. We had been one upping each other for weeks now, trying to find that elusively perfect very bad-good song.
I leaned over and softly began to sing.
I remember to this day the bright red Georgia clay and how it stuck to the tires after the summer rain. Will power made that old car go. A woman's mind told me that's so. Oh, I wish we were back on the road again...
Kate chortled and joined me.
Me and you and a dog named Boo traveling and a livin' off the la-and. Me and you and a dog named Boo. How I love bein' a free man...
By now, we were both on our feet and performing in classic Sonny and Cher style as we finished up the song gallantly for our less than excited co-workers.
I can still recall the wheat fields of Saint Paul and the mornin' we got caught robbin' from an old hen. Old McDonald, he made us work, but then he paid us for what it was worth. Another tank of gas....and back on the road again...
I felt better after that and sank down to finish up my charts.
But, Kate wasn't ready to pack it in.
"I can beat that," she said.
"Try," I challenged her.
She began to sing on her own.
Dance with me. I want to be your partner. Can't you see the music is just starting? Night is falling and I am falling. Dance with me...
I held up my hand. "Stop right now. That song is not going to be one of our bad songs. That's one of Bing and my songs."
Kate gave me a long, withering look before she managed to utter, "Ewww."
"What do you mean, EWW?" I asked her. Dance With Me is a fine old song.
"It's a sappy ass song and you know it," she answered.
"Them's fightin' words," I reiterated. "Bing sings that song to me when I am mad and she is trying to suck up to me. I sometimes get danced around the room and am given a cadbury egg if I can stay mad long enough."
She reconsidered.
"Ok," she conceded. "As long as as you get a cadbury egg out of it."
I nodded solemnly. I didn't mention the fact that once Bing sang the entire length of Your Body Is A Wonderland to me while strumming her guitar and following me around the house.
Some things are just too dribbly to talk about in public. But, if you ever want to get your partner to get naked with you, I highly recommend this tune if you have the voice for it. It worked for Bing. I know that much. Because while my body is truly more of a war zone than a wonderland, she knew to sing it with gusto and hey, playing the guitar helped too. I am a sucker for a musician......
"Righto," Kate went on, thinking deeply. "Ok. I have it!"
She took a deep breath.
"Where's the playground, Susie? If I decide to let you go and play around?Where's the playground, Susie? If I don't stay around....
She wailed this with true Glen Campbell flair.
I smiled. "Oh. yes...much better!" I told her, happily.
We were finally both ready to get back to work.
Sighing, I keyed in my password: HOTBOD08.
God, was this day over yet?
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