Boy howdy, dudes.
I've been inundated with e-mails asking me to please tell how the fellatio talk went with Liv.
It was fine.
First, yes...I am not an idjit (as my dear departed Irish mother would have said), I asked her where she had heard the word.
On the PLAYGROUND.
One of the girls in her class (a child that gets on my last nerve because she is one of those know-it-all types whose parents indulge sickeningly) announced to Liv and some others that she had seen her mother performing fellatio on her father one night when she got up to use the bathroom. Liv said she then pretended to gag and vomit and all the other girls laughed.
"I wasn't sure what it was, so I thought that I would look it up in the dictionary when I got home," she said. "It said oral contact with the penis and I thought it had to be wrong because that is just unsanitary and what does it have to do with having sex?"
So, yeah. I just told her. I said that men enjoy having their penis stimulated just as much as women enjoy having their vagina stimulated. That it was a part of sex that was not about procreation but about pure pleasure.
Liv and I have had the sex talk.
And some of you will probably disagree with my stance on sex. I told Liv that I hoped that she would wait until she was at least in college before she had sex, that until then, most girls were simply not mature enough to handle it. I also told her that while most parents would advise not having sex until she was in love or married, that I thought sex for fun was okay as long as you recognized that there is sex for fun and then sex when one is in love and that when one is in love, it is the best because not only do you get to have this great time but it also connects you to the woman or man in a way that she will understand when she is older. I also told her that having sex with men can produce babies and that it is important to use protection while having it since you are pretty much having sex not only with one person but everyone else that they have slept with too.
She took it in stride and after asking for a rudimentary explanation of the mechanics of the act, she has not asked any more questions.
She admitted that it made her feel kind of queasy to think about doing that with a man. I told her that I would have felt EXACTLY the same when I was her age, although the truth is that I didn't know much about sex until I was 13 and my mother gave me a catholic pamphlet on the subject that pretty much said that sex was a "gift" that a woman gave to a man on their wedding day.
And that was pretty much it. She seemed satisfied. I also told her that Isabella (the blabby friend) was probably just trying to show off by telling her friends what she saw. She agreed.
So...yeah. I handled it. I am not really nervous about sexual questions. I just want to do it right, you know? I refuse to be one of those parents who insist on being explicit with their children about everything sexual, but I do want Liv to be informed, so I suppose this is a good start. Soon enough, she will know everything. And while I hope that it isn't until she is in college, it could very well be sooner. As I said before, I'm not an idjit. But, I can hope.
Hey...I am reading ANOTHER great book! How can it be that I have stumbled on TWO stellar reads in one week?
Room by Emma Donoghue is mesmerizing.
Last night, I was reading and Bing kept trying to tell me about her day (how rude!) and instead of being a good partner and putting the book down, I just sat there with my finger in my book wearing my impatient hurry up, willya? face.
Bing is a good egg. She leaned down and kissed me and said to get back to my book, that I looked like I was in love with it or something....
I sort of am.
I fall in love with books often.
Especially the ones that sit across a room from me and beckon me like...like...like....Lee DeWyze.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Please excuse Maria
Please excuse Maria for being late to Blogville this evening. She was finishing up a book that was too good to put down.
I can't remember the last time that I wept over a book. Yes. It was that good.
Father Of The Rain by Lily King.
I don't know if I can put this book up on the shelf yet. It may have to sleep in my bed with me tonight, tight in my arms.
I can't remember the last time that I wept over a book. Yes. It was that good.
Father Of The Rain by Lily King.
I don't know if I can put this book up on the shelf yet. It may have to sleep in my bed with me tonight, tight in my arms.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Ummmm
Today as Liv and I were packing her lunch:
LIV: Mama, what does the word fellatio mean?
Listen closely, you will hear Bing choking on her protein breakfast drink at the kitchen table.
So...what would YOU do?
LIV: Mama, what does the word fellatio mean?
Listen closely, you will hear Bing choking on her protein breakfast drink at the kitchen table.
So...what would YOU do?
Sunday, March 27, 2011
True
'Tis true.
Ian Somerhalder is freakin' gorgeous.
I decided that if I drunk dialed anyone, it should be him.
I love my niece. She's almost 20 and laughs like a hyena. Everyone should have an unusual talent.
I did not get drunk. Mostly because Bing told me not to buy a bottle of whiskey because we still had "lots" left from when she made bourbon balls for Christmas. The recipe called for a half cup plus 3 tablespoons of bourbon. We had just about that much left, so I was unable to drink and bake. Probably for the best.
Vampire Diaries is actually not half bad. I told Kat (niece) that I would watch it if I could figure out how to tape it and watch Idol at the same time. I am electronically handicapped. But, for now...she is going to come over periodically and we will watch it on tape until I catch up and then she will have to tape all the shows for me.
"Can't you watch Idol and have Bing tape Vampire Diaries?" Kat asked.
I laughed. Nope. Mainly because I am incapable of learning how to do that and Bing will attempt to teach me how each and every time I ask her to tape it for me. I hate admitting to anyone that I am mentally challenged at this sort of thing.
It was a fun night. The brownies turned out a little gooey, but licking one's fingers is half the fun. And Kat and I had a good talk. Out of all my nieces (with the exception of my mentally handicapped niece, Amelia)...she and I are probably the closest. Her mother is my little sister, Jessie and I often run interference with them.
We talked. I am the cool aunt, although I don't believe that I am cool enough for her at times. When she came over last night reeking of cigarette smoke, I shook my finger at her and told her that she stank.
"Katrina, baby, you smell like an ashtray. Do you kiss boys with that smelly mouth?"
She shrugged. Smiled. This, I have discovered, is what teenagers do when they are smart enough to know that you can rat them out to their parents but are hoping that you keep your cool aunt status and just give them a minor scolding.
We sat down and talked for a while as we waited for Bing to head off to the gym and the brownies to cool.
"Wow. Snap. Your whole house smells like bourbon, Auntie Em."
This is what she has called me from childhood. Auntie Em. But, I made a note of the teen lingo.
Snap.
Will remember to use that now and again.
Bing left and we got down to the real talking.
Katrina had texted me at 3:45 a.m. the previous night to tell me that she was home from a party and "in hot mad, jungle love" with a boy she met there. She said to call her when I woke up.
"But, like...not too early, Auntie Em. Not before noon. 'Kay? Bye. I love you!"
I never got around to calling her so we had lots to talk about.
Turns out that this is what happened and I am curious to see if y'all came to the same conclusions that I did:
KATRINA'S STORY OF HOW SHE MET DEACON.
"Okay, see...he came with Liz's (Liz is her apartment mate) boyfriend, Bob to the party. Liz said that she thought that we would be cute together. Auntie Em, he is like gorgeous!!!"
I asked her what he looked like.
"He has a shaved head, so it is sorta hard to tell what color his hair is, but he is tall and has these gorgeous,scorching eyes."
I am sitting there thinking to myself, "SHAVED HEAD? IS HE ONE OF THOSE SKIN HEADS?"But, I have discovered that I am hopelessly stupid about fads for teenagers so I just nod and then ask if he is in the military or something.
Kat gives me a blank look. Military?
I say two words. Shaved head?
"Ohhhhh. No. He just likes to keep things simple."
Okaayy. God, how lazy can the boy be? I mean, it isn't like boy hair is that hard. Well, unless you are Justin Bieber. Then...yeah...maybe. Or a Jonas brother.
"Anyway, Auntie...two other girls were hittin' on him but I could tell that he was just being nice to them, ya know?"
Well, no. I don't. How could you tell? And was he trying to get next to you?
"So, he and I talked a little bit and then we all started playing Truth or Dare and he got dared to go out on the balcony and sing "I'm a little teapot" and do a dance to it. I got dared to lick my big toe....."
My eyes are glazing over. This is SO not like the parties that I went to as a college student. I seem to recall lots and lots of bongs and a kegger. Loud music. Kissing total strangers. Someone puking on the front lawn. I do not recall playing Truth or Dare. We played a game called "spoons" I think...But, hey...her party sounds much tamer and I should be glad, shouldn't I? But, LICKING YOUR BIG TOE IN FRONT OF PEOPLE? YUCK.
"Anyway, after the party, Bob and Liz had to give him a ride home because he came with them, so I tagged along. Deacon and I were in the back seat and we all talked and laughed. And when we dropped him off, he sort of half hugged me and said it was nice to meet me....I came home and couldn't sleep, I was so excited, so I texted you and my sisters...."
Okay...I have more female readers than male, but I need some male opinions here. What I think is that this is not a good omen. If I were at a party and I was all hot and bothered for some guy and he didn't even once try to get me alone or ask for my phone number and then gave me some dumb ass HUG goodbye and said it was nice to meet me for fuck sakes....well...let's just say that I wouldn't have been too excited to sleep. I would have been really, really disappointed. Is this off? What do y'all think? Just curious.
Anyway, Kat was excited, so I let it be. We talked about school for her (she is so damn smart but barely passes her classes), if she misses her ex boyfriend who dumped her less than a month ago (she does and that is lame because this guy was just trouble...he worked at a McDonald's and had no aspirations other than making enough money to score some Boone's Farm later) and then she is quiet for a moment and says,
"I just wish that some guy would love me like Bing loves you..."
I look at her for a beat. I want to tell her that Bing and I are not role models for a good relationship. That we are hopelessly mismatched but try to work things out anyway because we do love each other. That love is so damn hard and that all those movies you see just give you a twisted picture of what love is. Love is not always bliss. Sometimes it knocks you to your knees and you sit there wondering what the hell it was that made your heart feel like it was going to spring out of your chest so long ago....that some days I feel like the soundtrack to my life should be Love Stinks and not Paperweight.
I say something inane instead...something about love being hard sometimes.
"But, Auntie Em...Bing is just...wow...you two are so good together!"
My eyebrow shoots up.
Katrina goes on...
"Like right before she left to go to the gym and you were in the kitchen ragging on her about how she said she would clear off the dining room table before she left and she started singing She's The One to you and then when she couldn't get you to laugh, she started singing Maxwell's Silver Hammer and dancing you around the kitchen and then you did start laughing. And when you told her that you thought the front tire on your car was low again, she said that she'd take your car to the gym and get air in it on the way home and gas it up too. It's like she...just takes care of you. And then she pulled out that bag from Walgreens and gave you all those Burt's Bees products that she said were on clearance? Like...she went to Walgreens for something else and then she walked by that shit and thought of you...so just bought it? And when she kissed you goodbye, she looked like she was memorizing your face or something. She really loves you. I wonder if I will ever have someone look at me that way...."
I was temporarily speechless because she made me see Bing in a totally different light. When Bing was leaving to go to the gym, all I could think of was how she had once again snaked out on cleaning up. And then all that dancing me around the kitchen and singing to me was such a cop out...I barely remembered the Burt's Bees stuff...probably because she does that shit so frequently. And the goodbye kiss? God. I honestly don't remember it. I remember wishing that she would just GO already so that Kat and I could watch the show in peace. And yes, she always sees to the cars. I can't remember the last time I had to put gas in my car.
Sometimes it takes someone else to point out to you that maybe you do have sort of a spectacular marriage.
It is the kind of thing that I imagine one thinks a lot about when their partner dies. Like...wow...they did all this cool stuff for me and I barely noticed. And I wish that I had slipped them a little tongue on that last kiss goodbye.....
So..I felt thankful to Katrina for opening my eyes a little bit. I took her stocking foot in my hand and shook it.
Don't be stupid, I told her. Your guy is out there. Maybe it is this Deacon fellow, who knows? But...hey...keep in mind that you are SOOOOO young. You aren't even 20 yet. When I was 20, I didn't have the slightest idea what I even liked in a partner. All I knew was that I liked kissing. A lot.
"Well, me too....." she drawls. And we laugh.
And start the DVD.
Boy howdy...that Ian Somerhalder is a looker.
After Katrina left, I sidled up to Bing and thanked her properly for the Burt's Bees products and for looking out for my car and well, just for loving me when I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.
We talked about the whole Katrina/Deacon thing and both admitted that we had no idea if this was good or not since neither one of us is privy to what goes on in a guy's head or what is considered the standard for teenagers these days.
Anyone want to take a guess at what will happen with Kat and Deacon?
And...hey...if you have a spouse/partner....cut them some slack. Just for tonight. Because some clueless teenager may give you some worthwhile insight into how sweet it all really is....
Ian Somerhalder is freakin' gorgeous.
I decided that if I drunk dialed anyone, it should be him.
I love my niece. She's almost 20 and laughs like a hyena. Everyone should have an unusual talent.
I did not get drunk. Mostly because Bing told me not to buy a bottle of whiskey because we still had "lots" left from when she made bourbon balls for Christmas. The recipe called for a half cup plus 3 tablespoons of bourbon. We had just about that much left, so I was unable to drink and bake. Probably for the best.
Vampire Diaries is actually not half bad. I told Kat (niece) that I would watch it if I could figure out how to tape it and watch Idol at the same time. I am electronically handicapped. But, for now...she is going to come over periodically and we will watch it on tape until I catch up and then she will have to tape all the shows for me.
"Can't you watch Idol and have Bing tape Vampire Diaries?" Kat asked.
I laughed. Nope. Mainly because I am incapable of learning how to do that and Bing will attempt to teach me how each and every time I ask her to tape it for me. I hate admitting to anyone that I am mentally challenged at this sort of thing.
It was a fun night. The brownies turned out a little gooey, but licking one's fingers is half the fun. And Kat and I had a good talk. Out of all my nieces (with the exception of my mentally handicapped niece, Amelia)...she and I are probably the closest. Her mother is my little sister, Jessie and I often run interference with them.
We talked. I am the cool aunt, although I don't believe that I am cool enough for her at times. When she came over last night reeking of cigarette smoke, I shook my finger at her and told her that she stank.
"Katrina, baby, you smell like an ashtray. Do you kiss boys with that smelly mouth?"
She shrugged. Smiled. This, I have discovered, is what teenagers do when they are smart enough to know that you can rat them out to their parents but are hoping that you keep your cool aunt status and just give them a minor scolding.
We sat down and talked for a while as we waited for Bing to head off to the gym and the brownies to cool.
"Wow. Snap. Your whole house smells like bourbon, Auntie Em."
This is what she has called me from childhood. Auntie Em. But, I made a note of the teen lingo.
Snap.
Will remember to use that now and again.
Bing left and we got down to the real talking.
Katrina had texted me at 3:45 a.m. the previous night to tell me that she was home from a party and "in hot mad, jungle love" with a boy she met there. She said to call her when I woke up.
"But, like...not too early, Auntie Em. Not before noon. 'Kay? Bye. I love you!"
I never got around to calling her so we had lots to talk about.
Turns out that this is what happened and I am curious to see if y'all came to the same conclusions that I did:
KATRINA'S STORY OF HOW SHE MET DEACON.
"Okay, see...he came with Liz's (Liz is her apartment mate) boyfriend, Bob to the party. Liz said that she thought that we would be cute together. Auntie Em, he is like gorgeous!!!"
I asked her what he looked like.
"He has a shaved head, so it is sorta hard to tell what color his hair is, but he is tall and has these gorgeous,scorching eyes."
I am sitting there thinking to myself, "SHAVED HEAD? IS HE ONE OF THOSE SKIN HEADS?"But, I have discovered that I am hopelessly stupid about fads for teenagers so I just nod and then ask if he is in the military or something.
Kat gives me a blank look. Military?
I say two words. Shaved head?
"Ohhhhh. No. He just likes to keep things simple."
Okaayy. God, how lazy can the boy be? I mean, it isn't like boy hair is that hard. Well, unless you are Justin Bieber. Then...yeah...maybe. Or a Jonas brother.
"Anyway, Auntie...two other girls were hittin' on him but I could tell that he was just being nice to them, ya know?"
Well, no. I don't. How could you tell? And was he trying to get next to you?
"So, he and I talked a little bit and then we all started playing Truth or Dare and he got dared to go out on the balcony and sing "I'm a little teapot" and do a dance to it. I got dared to lick my big toe....."
My eyes are glazing over. This is SO not like the parties that I went to as a college student. I seem to recall lots and lots of bongs and a kegger. Loud music. Kissing total strangers. Someone puking on the front lawn. I do not recall playing Truth or Dare. We played a game called "spoons" I think...But, hey...her party sounds much tamer and I should be glad, shouldn't I? But, LICKING YOUR BIG TOE IN FRONT OF PEOPLE? YUCK.
"Anyway, after the party, Bob and Liz had to give him a ride home because he came with them, so I tagged along. Deacon and I were in the back seat and we all talked and laughed. And when we dropped him off, he sort of half hugged me and said it was nice to meet me....I came home and couldn't sleep, I was so excited, so I texted you and my sisters...."
Okay...I have more female readers than male, but I need some male opinions here. What I think is that this is not a good omen. If I were at a party and I was all hot and bothered for some guy and he didn't even once try to get me alone or ask for my phone number and then gave me some dumb ass HUG goodbye and said it was nice to meet me for fuck sakes....well...let's just say that I wouldn't have been too excited to sleep. I would have been really, really disappointed. Is this off? What do y'all think? Just curious.
Anyway, Kat was excited, so I let it be. We talked about school for her (she is so damn smart but barely passes her classes), if she misses her ex boyfriend who dumped her less than a month ago (she does and that is lame because this guy was just trouble...he worked at a McDonald's and had no aspirations other than making enough money to score some Boone's Farm later) and then she is quiet for a moment and says,
"I just wish that some guy would love me like Bing loves you..."
I look at her for a beat. I want to tell her that Bing and I are not role models for a good relationship. That we are hopelessly mismatched but try to work things out anyway because we do love each other. That love is so damn hard and that all those movies you see just give you a twisted picture of what love is. Love is not always bliss. Sometimes it knocks you to your knees and you sit there wondering what the hell it was that made your heart feel like it was going to spring out of your chest so long ago....that some days I feel like the soundtrack to my life should be Love Stinks and not Paperweight.
I say something inane instead...something about love being hard sometimes.
"But, Auntie Em...Bing is just...wow...you two are so good together!"
My eyebrow shoots up.
Katrina goes on...
"Like right before she left to go to the gym and you were in the kitchen ragging on her about how she said she would clear off the dining room table before she left and she started singing She's The One to you and then when she couldn't get you to laugh, she started singing Maxwell's Silver Hammer and dancing you around the kitchen and then you did start laughing. And when you told her that you thought the front tire on your car was low again, she said that she'd take your car to the gym and get air in it on the way home and gas it up too. It's like she...just takes care of you. And then she pulled out that bag from Walgreens and gave you all those Burt's Bees products that she said were on clearance? Like...she went to Walgreens for something else and then she walked by that shit and thought of you...so just bought it? And when she kissed you goodbye, she looked like she was memorizing your face or something. She really loves you. I wonder if I will ever have someone look at me that way...."
I was temporarily speechless because she made me see Bing in a totally different light. When Bing was leaving to go to the gym, all I could think of was how she had once again snaked out on cleaning up. And then all that dancing me around the kitchen and singing to me was such a cop out...I barely remembered the Burt's Bees stuff...probably because she does that shit so frequently. And the goodbye kiss? God. I honestly don't remember it. I remember wishing that she would just GO already so that Kat and I could watch the show in peace. And yes, she always sees to the cars. I can't remember the last time I had to put gas in my car.
Sometimes it takes someone else to point out to you that maybe you do have sort of a spectacular marriage.
It is the kind of thing that I imagine one thinks a lot about when their partner dies. Like...wow...they did all this cool stuff for me and I barely noticed. And I wish that I had slipped them a little tongue on that last kiss goodbye.....
So..I felt thankful to Katrina for opening my eyes a little bit. I took her stocking foot in my hand and shook it.
Don't be stupid, I told her. Your guy is out there. Maybe it is this Deacon fellow, who knows? But...hey...keep in mind that you are SOOOOO young. You aren't even 20 yet. When I was 20, I didn't have the slightest idea what I even liked in a partner. All I knew was that I liked kissing. A lot.
"Well, me too....." she drawls. And we laugh.
And start the DVD.
Boy howdy...that Ian Somerhalder is a looker.
After Katrina left, I sidled up to Bing and thanked her properly for the Burt's Bees products and for looking out for my car and well, just for loving me when I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.
We talked about the whole Katrina/Deacon thing and both admitted that we had no idea if this was good or not since neither one of us is privy to what goes on in a guy's head or what is considered the standard for teenagers these days.
Anyone want to take a guess at what will happen with Kat and Deacon?
And...hey...if you have a spouse/partner....cut them some slack. Just for tonight. Because some clueless teenager may give you some worthwhile insight into how sweet it all really is....
Saturday, March 26, 2011
snowy saturday
My niece is coming over tonight to help drive away my IT-WON'T-FUCKING-STOP-SNOWING blues. She is bringing over the entire VAMPIRE DIARIES and we are starting with the first one.
"Once you see Ian Somerhalder you will know that there is a God because he is so gorgeous...it's like an angel come down to earth," she told me.
"Isn't he that kid from the movie Transamerica?" I asked her.
She frowned. Had never heard of it.
I am old. I know all the movies.
So, I am baking bourbon brownies with praline icing for treats when we watch tonight. It is the one and only recipe that Lisette gave me from New Orleans. And wouldn't you know...the damn thing has PEANUT BRITTLE in it. Where the hell do I get peanut brittle this time of year? Bing and I finally settled for some brittle-ish peanut bars from the candy aisle.
I think I may have to have a few sips of the bourbon as I make them.
Poor Katrina. She will arrive to find her drunken aunt shoving a pan of half cooked brownies at her.
Bing is already planning to spend the evening at the gym. Liv is spending the night with friends.
I just may drunk dial Lee DeWyze tonight.
What the hell. It is snowing! In SPRING TIME. Life on the prairie can be a pain in the ass.
Bing knows me so well. We were in Target, trolling the aisles for peanut brittle and she says, "Why don't you sashay into cosmetics and buy some new mascara or lipstick? That always makes you happy."
So I did.
Lipstick.
Mascara.
So, now when I am drunk and watching Vampire Diaries, I can wear my new makeup and drunk dial Lee Dewyze.
And maybe...you.
"Once you see Ian Somerhalder you will know that there is a God because he is so gorgeous...it's like an angel come down to earth," she told me.
"Isn't he that kid from the movie Transamerica?" I asked her.
She frowned. Had never heard of it.
I am old. I know all the movies.
So, I am baking bourbon brownies with praline icing for treats when we watch tonight. It is the one and only recipe that Lisette gave me from New Orleans. And wouldn't you know...the damn thing has PEANUT BRITTLE in it. Where the hell do I get peanut brittle this time of year? Bing and I finally settled for some brittle-ish peanut bars from the candy aisle.
I think I may have to have a few sips of the bourbon as I make them.
Poor Katrina. She will arrive to find her drunken aunt shoving a pan of half cooked brownies at her.
Bing is already planning to spend the evening at the gym. Liv is spending the night with friends.
I just may drunk dial Lee DeWyze tonight.
What the hell. It is snowing! In SPRING TIME. Life on the prairie can be a pain in the ass.
Bing knows me so well. We were in Target, trolling the aisles for peanut brittle and she says, "Why don't you sashay into cosmetics and buy some new mascara or lipstick? That always makes you happy."
So I did.
Lipstick.
Mascara.
So, now when I am drunk and watching Vampire Diaries, I can wear my new makeup and drunk dial Lee Dewyze.
And maybe...you.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Down with a thud
Vacation over. Reality time.
It started as I drove in to work yesterday. Missed someone making me breakfast and telling me to eat up as I was too skin and bones.
My secretary handed me a stack of papers as big as my head. Some to read and sign, others to give back with corrections. Still more messages with stupid writing asking me stupid questions.
The night before, in bed, Bing had brought up the subject of her spending June in Berlin. There was a class there that she could teach. She always wanted to go to Berlin. And wouldn't it be fun if I came too?
What about Liv? I asked.
"Well, can't she spend the month with her father?"
This reminded me that I had a message on my phone from Tinton that I hadn't listened to yet.
I clicked on it.
"Hi Ice (such a sweet nickname...has to do with what he thinks my temperament is)
Hey, guess what? I am going to be spending the summer in Paris! What do you think of letting Liv come visit for any amount the time that you say. A week. Two. A month. The whole SUMMER! Call me back and let's bounce this around, okay? I hope your trip to New Orleans was great. Liv said that she had a blast. Bye now.
No. I won't give her up for a summer again. Not happening.
I let Bing listen to the message and she tells me that this will solve ALL of our problems concerning Berlin. She could stay in Paris with her father while we go to Berlin!
No. First, I can't leave work for an entire month. Second, I don't want to share Liv with her father this summer. I did that last year. Third, sighing the big sigh.
I will run it by Liv. I go into her room where she is still reading. Let her listen to Tinton's message. Her sigh matches mine. She looks at me, her eyes serious.
"Mama, I don't want to go away for the whole summer. How about just a week? Maybe near the end of summer?"
I am so relieved that I almost feel ill. I hug her and tell her that this is a great idea, that I will call her father tomorrow and arrange a trip in August for her.
And he is going to buy her ticket. And all food.
I go back to bed and tell Bing that she will be going alone to Berlin.
She gives me a long look.
"I hate it when I feel like you choose Liv over me," she says.
I tell her that the truth is that I want Liv to be on the swim team again this year. She missed out last year. And I want to have a summer with her. She is growing up. Soon she won't think it is fun to stay home with me. I tell her that I have no desire whatsoever to visit Berlin.
I hug her, love her up.
She gives in a little. And then I tell her that she is NEVER to put me in the position of choosing between my daughter and her. Totally unfair.
She nods, looks away.
We both know the truth. Liv wins. Always.
It isn't something we talk about much. But, it is there. And I know that my marriage is supposed to come first. It doesn't. My daughter does.
I never promised her differently. I set those parameters from day one.
But, I still feel guilty.
How did we go from laying in a big sleigh bed in New Orleans, laughing and nuzzling and so full of honest joy and peace in each other's arms to....
Laying in our bed here on the prairie trying not to look too hard at each other.
Down with a thud.
It started as I drove in to work yesterday. Missed someone making me breakfast and telling me to eat up as I was too skin and bones.
My secretary handed me a stack of papers as big as my head. Some to read and sign, others to give back with corrections. Still more messages with stupid writing asking me stupid questions.
The night before, in bed, Bing had brought up the subject of her spending June in Berlin. There was a class there that she could teach. She always wanted to go to Berlin. And wouldn't it be fun if I came too?
What about Liv? I asked.
"Well, can't she spend the month with her father?"
This reminded me that I had a message on my phone from Tinton that I hadn't listened to yet.
I clicked on it.
"Hi Ice (such a sweet nickname...has to do with what he thinks my temperament is)
Hey, guess what? I am going to be spending the summer in Paris! What do you think of letting Liv come visit for any amount the time that you say. A week. Two. A month. The whole SUMMER! Call me back and let's bounce this around, okay? I hope your trip to New Orleans was great. Liv said that she had a blast. Bye now.
No. I won't give her up for a summer again. Not happening.
I let Bing listen to the message and she tells me that this will solve ALL of our problems concerning Berlin. She could stay in Paris with her father while we go to Berlin!
No. First, I can't leave work for an entire month. Second, I don't want to share Liv with her father this summer. I did that last year. Third, sighing the big sigh.
I will run it by Liv. I go into her room where she is still reading. Let her listen to Tinton's message. Her sigh matches mine. She looks at me, her eyes serious.
"Mama, I don't want to go away for the whole summer. How about just a week? Maybe near the end of summer?"
I am so relieved that I almost feel ill. I hug her and tell her that this is a great idea, that I will call her father tomorrow and arrange a trip in August for her.
And he is going to buy her ticket. And all food.
I go back to bed and tell Bing that she will be going alone to Berlin.
She gives me a long look.
"I hate it when I feel like you choose Liv over me," she says.
I tell her that the truth is that I want Liv to be on the swim team again this year. She missed out last year. And I want to have a summer with her. She is growing up. Soon she won't think it is fun to stay home with me. I tell her that I have no desire whatsoever to visit Berlin.
I hug her, love her up.
She gives in a little. And then I tell her that she is NEVER to put me in the position of choosing between my daughter and her. Totally unfair.
She nods, looks away.
We both know the truth. Liv wins. Always.
It isn't something we talk about much. But, it is there. And I know that my marriage is supposed to come first. It doesn't. My daughter does.
I never promised her differently. I set those parameters from day one.
But, I still feel guilty.
How did we go from laying in a big sleigh bed in New Orleans, laughing and nuzzling and so full of honest joy and peace in each other's arms to....
Laying in our bed here on the prairie trying not to look too hard at each other.
Down with a thud.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Airport Thoughts
Home. Not far now. But, what an incredible vacation it was! I didn't do e-mail, didn't check the blog, didn't even text anyone. I just....relaxed.
We stayed with Bing's Aunt Eugenie and Uncle Henri. In their huge home just a few miles away from New Orleans. An old sugar cane plantation. No slave shacks anymore, thank you. But, very antebellum, very beautiful. And the hospitality? Out of this world. Many thanks are in order.
Thanks to Lisette, the family cook who squeezed oranges each morning for us and made us food to die for. Lisette looks so much like Mammy from Gone With The Wind that it gave me pause. She refused to give me any of her recipes, but made food that was so delicious that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. She made andouille and eggs for breakfast, gumbo for lunch and dinners were like something out of a cooking competition. Thank you, Lisette, for making Bing crawfish etouffee and putting so much chicory in my coffee that I felt braced to start the day every day. Thank you for making me try turtle soup and then making me laugh by telling me that:
Turtle soup will bring you babies...
When I rose my eyebrow at that, she leaned down and whispered conspiratorially that:
It makes you want to do that thing that makes you babies....
I tried it and um...well....I don't know that I wanted to make babies, but I do know that watching Bing sit in with the band and play Ventura Highway and move her shoulder just like that when she played the opening riff....welll.....it made me want to give her something to shiver about when we went to bed later.
And I did. The next day, we would catch each other's eye across a room and both blush with remembering what happened in that bed the previous night. Four times.
Thanks to Aunt Eugenie for taking us up to her closet and opening it to Liv and me and telling us to "try on everything and then take it off my hands, mon cheres. God knows I can't wear that foolishness anymore."
The dresses were gorgeous....what Bing refers to as Tammy dresses; sun dresses that were off the shoulder and cinched at the waist, all bright yellows and deep pinks, soft blues and ambers, even a peachy orange number that I had no business wearing at my age, but I did anyway.
I never did wear the heels I brought, but either went barefoot or wore ballet slippers or on two occasions, I wore Great Aunt Manon's fishing boots and went fishing with Uncle Henri and Cousin Leo and brought home red fish and speckled trout for Lisette to drench in flour and spices and make us for supper.
I went without makeup except for my cherries-in-the-snow lipstick that I wore to the two parties that we went to, one party that went until dawn. It was typical Creole fais do do, lots of drinking, flirting and dancing. Thanks to Michel for teaching me all over again on how to do the Cajun two step
and singing zydeco songs just for me. And then telling me that, "I know you be belonging to my cousin Bing, chere, but I think I be falling right into your blues about now and putting up my feet to stay for a while. You sure you don't do the gris gris? You maybe Marie Laveau's kin?"
You made a 52 year old woman look down and feel the Spring in the earth.
Thanks to Modeste, daughter of Aunt Eugenie, who saw that my arthritic fingers had trouble combing Liv's hair in the mornings and sashayed up each and every morning to put Liv's long hair into a sweet french braid that hung down her back like a thick rope.
Thanks to Rene, grandson of Eugenie and Henri, who stepped up and kept Liv entertained, teasing her to "watch for the 'gators, bu macacu!" and taking her out on the pirogue to hunt for turtles. I could see he was developing a crush on my girl, but she was cheerfully oblivious to his wide eyed bliss around her. Watching him teach her how to do the quadrille as we all danced at midnight was so innocently sweet and tender that it brought tears to my eyes.
Thanks to Aunt Eugenie and Uncle Henri for insisting that Liv only speak French inside the house (a Creole tradition) and then gently teasing her on her fancy shoes dialect and teaching her to loosen up her French into Cajun style Francais.
"Laissez les bon temps rouler!"
"Mon enfant cheri! Voyez-vous cet ange?"
Thanks to next door neighbor, Pierre, for taking me out on Lake Pontchartrain and Lake Borgne and telling me ghost stories of the french quarter in New Orleans, giving me more than one nightmare. Thanks for being such a gifted storyteller in that steep Creole accent and also for showing your mighty biceps as you rowed me around. Thank you too, for presenting Liv and me with crowns of coral honeysuckle, snow roses and flamingo flowers to wear in our hair. I wore one all around the french quarter and did not feel out of place with all the other loose limbed party people.
Thanks to Bing for telling me that she fell in love with me all over again in New Orleans. I think the tammy dress and flower crowns had a lot to do with that, honey. But, kissing you in the hammock the morning after the party...well...that was such a splendid way to greet the day.
Thanks to all of Bing's relatives who stepped up and gave us a bit of native Louisiana lagniappe and didn't even chuckle when I tottered around trying to learn how to do the Lake Charles Slide and the Whiskey River Jitterbug.
The weather was balmy, in the high seventies with clear skies and a soft, silk breeze. I can still hear Great Uncle Prosper telling me not to fear the skeeta hawks and to bring a shiny bracelet to the tomb of Marie Laveau if I wanted to have her grant me a wish. ("That queen, she does like her bangles and if they shine in the sun, you can maybe hear her hot, quivering laugh. She'd like a girl like you, you bring some lagniappe to the table, mon cheri.")
Thanks to everyone for taking us to Mothers, to Matt and Naddies, and to The Three Sisters for shrimp po'boys, dirty rice and beans and rum pecan pie. And yes, Lisette, I agree...even Cafe du Monde cannot make better beignets and cafe au lait than yours. If I lived with you year round, I would be as round as Aunt Eugenie, a fat little french horse, as you called her. Your cooking is truly flawless.
Thank you to the shop keeper in the french quarter at Reverend Zombies who told me that he recognized me from a previous life and he owed me a "bauble" and then presented me with the gorgeous crystal that I still have on a chain around my neck. Thank you, too, for helping me to select a crazed Jesus ring to ward off bad spirits. It is just strange enough that I will wear it often.
Thanks to Lafayette for showing us all around the swamps and telling me stories that make True Blood seem like a tame fairy tale. I will not forget to put the dust you gave me all around the four corners of my home and the doorstep to prevent the petro loua from coming in.
Lisette, the last dessert you served us were bourbon brownies with praline icing. I will dream about them for years to come. And thanks for sending us off this morning with vanilla bread pudding.
My food poisoning will never return with all this good food flying around my insides...
And also, thanks for the thunder god vine for my rheumatoid arthritis. I will take it faithfully and think of you and your husky voice telling me to, "keep the happy in your heart and don't go conversing with those who intend to make you feel small."
You and Aunt Eugenie are wise women and I am lucky to have met you and call you my family.
I truly loved my stay at Tomas Manor and now I understand why Bing pines for it so. We will be back and maybe this time someone will be successful at teaching me the Tambou Bele. Two left feet are mine.....
Poor Bing. As she watched me slide my pale pink cashmere sweater on with my jeans this morning, she said, "I will miss those Tammy dresses on my barefoot wife....time to go back to the frozen tundra of the prairie now....."
Aw, honey. Tomorrow is Spring. Even on the prairie. And we will come back, I promise. I agree totally that I could easily retire in N'awlins with you. I can see us in one of those shot gun houses on St. Charles street with our windows and doors open to the breeze off the lake and balmy nights laying in each other's arms in a hammock on the porch.
I loved how your voice returned to it's roots and suddenly there you were, that heavy accented woman that I met when I was 18. I loved listening to you and all of your family and friends slip in and out of Cajun, Creole and that queer bayou French. I will probably want to watch this movie again and again just to hear those luscious accents.
Those charming, silk voiced men and the softly wilting teacake voices of the women.
I will be back, Louisiana. I will be back. Thanks for holding all of us so sweetly in your warm arms.
We stayed with Bing's Aunt Eugenie and Uncle Henri. In their huge home just a few miles away from New Orleans. An old sugar cane plantation. No slave shacks anymore, thank you. But, very antebellum, very beautiful. And the hospitality? Out of this world. Many thanks are in order.
Thanks to Lisette, the family cook who squeezed oranges each morning for us and made us food to die for. Lisette looks so much like Mammy from Gone With The Wind that it gave me pause. She refused to give me any of her recipes, but made food that was so delicious that I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. She made andouille and eggs for breakfast, gumbo for lunch and dinners were like something out of a cooking competition. Thank you, Lisette, for making Bing crawfish etouffee and putting so much chicory in my coffee that I felt braced to start the day every day. Thank you for making me try turtle soup and then making me laugh by telling me that:
Turtle soup will bring you babies...
When I rose my eyebrow at that, she leaned down and whispered conspiratorially that:
It makes you want to do that thing that makes you babies....
I tried it and um...well....I don't know that I wanted to make babies, but I do know that watching Bing sit in with the band and play Ventura Highway and move her shoulder just like that when she played the opening riff....welll.....it made me want to give her something to shiver about when we went to bed later.
And I did. The next day, we would catch each other's eye across a room and both blush with remembering what happened in that bed the previous night. Four times.
Thanks to Aunt Eugenie for taking us up to her closet and opening it to Liv and me and telling us to "try on everything and then take it off my hands, mon cheres. God knows I can't wear that foolishness anymore."
The dresses were gorgeous....what Bing refers to as Tammy dresses; sun dresses that were off the shoulder and cinched at the waist, all bright yellows and deep pinks, soft blues and ambers, even a peachy orange number that I had no business wearing at my age, but I did anyway.
I never did wear the heels I brought, but either went barefoot or wore ballet slippers or on two occasions, I wore Great Aunt Manon's fishing boots and went fishing with Uncle Henri and Cousin Leo and brought home red fish and speckled trout for Lisette to drench in flour and spices and make us for supper.
I went without makeup except for my cherries-in-the-snow lipstick that I wore to the two parties that we went to, one party that went until dawn. It was typical Creole fais do do, lots of drinking, flirting and dancing. Thanks to Michel for teaching me all over again on how to do the Cajun two step
and singing zydeco songs just for me. And then telling me that, "I know you be belonging to my cousin Bing, chere, but I think I be falling right into your blues about now and putting up my feet to stay for a while. You sure you don't do the gris gris? You maybe Marie Laveau's kin?"
You made a 52 year old woman look down and feel the Spring in the earth.
Thanks to Modeste, daughter of Aunt Eugenie, who saw that my arthritic fingers had trouble combing Liv's hair in the mornings and sashayed up each and every morning to put Liv's long hair into a sweet french braid that hung down her back like a thick rope.
Thanks to Rene, grandson of Eugenie and Henri, who stepped up and kept Liv entertained, teasing her to "watch for the 'gators, bu macacu!" and taking her out on the pirogue to hunt for turtles. I could see he was developing a crush on my girl, but she was cheerfully oblivious to his wide eyed bliss around her. Watching him teach her how to do the quadrille as we all danced at midnight was so innocently sweet and tender that it brought tears to my eyes.
Thanks to Aunt Eugenie and Uncle Henri for insisting that Liv only speak French inside the house (a Creole tradition) and then gently teasing her on her fancy shoes dialect and teaching her to loosen up her French into Cajun style Francais.
"Laissez les bon temps rouler!"
"Mon enfant cheri! Voyez-vous cet ange?"
Thanks to next door neighbor, Pierre, for taking me out on Lake Pontchartrain and Lake Borgne and telling me ghost stories of the french quarter in New Orleans, giving me more than one nightmare. Thanks for being such a gifted storyteller in that steep Creole accent and also for showing your mighty biceps as you rowed me around. Thank you too, for presenting Liv and me with crowns of coral honeysuckle, snow roses and flamingo flowers to wear in our hair. I wore one all around the french quarter and did not feel out of place with all the other loose limbed party people.
Thanks to Bing for telling me that she fell in love with me all over again in New Orleans. I think the tammy dress and flower crowns had a lot to do with that, honey. But, kissing you in the hammock the morning after the party...well...that was such a splendid way to greet the day.
Thanks to all of Bing's relatives who stepped up and gave us a bit of native Louisiana lagniappe and didn't even chuckle when I tottered around trying to learn how to do the Lake Charles Slide and the Whiskey River Jitterbug.
The weather was balmy, in the high seventies with clear skies and a soft, silk breeze. I can still hear Great Uncle Prosper telling me not to fear the skeeta hawks and to bring a shiny bracelet to the tomb of Marie Laveau if I wanted to have her grant me a wish. ("That queen, she does like her bangles and if they shine in the sun, you can maybe hear her hot, quivering laugh. She'd like a girl like you, you bring some lagniappe to the table, mon cheri.")
Thanks to everyone for taking us to Mothers, to Matt and Naddies, and to The Three Sisters for shrimp po'boys, dirty rice and beans and rum pecan pie. And yes, Lisette, I agree...even Cafe du Monde cannot make better beignets and cafe au lait than yours. If I lived with you year round, I would be as round as Aunt Eugenie, a fat little french horse, as you called her. Your cooking is truly flawless.
Thank you to the shop keeper in the french quarter at Reverend Zombies who told me that he recognized me from a previous life and he owed me a "bauble" and then presented me with the gorgeous crystal that I still have on a chain around my neck. Thank you, too, for helping me to select a crazed Jesus ring to ward off bad spirits. It is just strange enough that I will wear it often.
Thanks to Lafayette for showing us all around the swamps and telling me stories that make True Blood seem like a tame fairy tale. I will not forget to put the dust you gave me all around the four corners of my home and the doorstep to prevent the petro loua from coming in.
Lisette, the last dessert you served us were bourbon brownies with praline icing. I will dream about them for years to come. And thanks for sending us off this morning with vanilla bread pudding.
My food poisoning will never return with all this good food flying around my insides...
And also, thanks for the thunder god vine for my rheumatoid arthritis. I will take it faithfully and think of you and your husky voice telling me to, "keep the happy in your heart and don't go conversing with those who intend to make you feel small."
You and Aunt Eugenie are wise women and I am lucky to have met you and call you my family.
I truly loved my stay at Tomas Manor and now I understand why Bing pines for it so. We will be back and maybe this time someone will be successful at teaching me the Tambou Bele. Two left feet are mine.....
Poor Bing. As she watched me slide my pale pink cashmere sweater on with my jeans this morning, she said, "I will miss those Tammy dresses on my barefoot wife....time to go back to the frozen tundra of the prairie now....."
Aw, honey. Tomorrow is Spring. Even on the prairie. And we will come back, I promise. I agree totally that I could easily retire in N'awlins with you. I can see us in one of those shot gun houses on St. Charles street with our windows and doors open to the breeze off the lake and balmy nights laying in each other's arms in a hammock on the porch.
I loved how your voice returned to it's roots and suddenly there you were, that heavy accented woman that I met when I was 18. I loved listening to you and all of your family and friends slip in and out of Cajun, Creole and that queer bayou French. I will probably want to watch this movie again and again just to hear those luscious accents.
Those charming, silk voiced men and the softly wilting teacake voices of the women.
I will be back, Louisiana. I will be back. Thanks for holding all of us so sweetly in your warm arms.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Morning Dialogue #2
Bing: Okay, so I have some ideas about our flight tomorrow....
Maria: (barely coherent, WHY does she insist on talking to me in the morning?) What is there to talk about? We leave at the butt crack of dawn....why on EARTH you scheduled a 6 a.m. flight is beyond me.....
B: Hey, we change planes in Chicago, you might see Lee DeWyze....
Flicker of a smile on Maria's face.
B: But, seriously...here...take these. I picked them up at Walgreens for you.
Bing hands Maria a plastic bag. Inside are:
1) Jumbo kotex
2) surgical face masks
3) a new folding cane
WHAT?
Bing: The kotex is in case you feel like you might have diarrhea again. Just um...push the kotex up close to your butt in case you don't make it to the bathroom or have to wait...The face mask is for your protection. You are already pretty weak. ALL we need is for you to pick up another virus. And the cane? IT FOLDS! So much handier than that walking stick you lug around when your knee swells up.
Maria: God, you make me feel so attractive....the least you could have done was bought some of that hot kiss shea butter hand lotion that I like to make up for making me feel like some crusty octogenarian! And I WILL NOT wear a surgical mask on the plane. NO. If there is one chance in a million that I will catch a glimpse of Lee DeWyze, he is not going to see me in a surgical mask with a cane. No, sirree bob.
Bing: Must you always be the diva? You are plenty sexy enough for me. So, you aren't Brittney Spears. How about if Liv and I both wear surgical masks too so you don't feel so alone?
Liv looks up from her oatmeal and slowly shakes her head at me. No. Way.
I concur.
Maria: I was NEVER Brittney Spears. Do I look like some busty blond singer who pops out babies like I don't understand birth control? And I have no interest in strapping on some tablecloth between my legs. I will take Imodium before we leave. You will remind me because you are good at that shit, I mean stuff. And I plan to pack those pretty strappy heels, just in case.
Bing: Are you sure you're a lesbian? Because I swear you sound like a Barbie doll this morning. No mask. No kotex. No cane. Strappy heels...
Maria: And lipstick. Cherries in the snow. Dark red.
Maria goes up to Bing and wraps her arms around her waist. Cuddles until Bing sighs and hugs back.
Bing leans down and whispers into Maria's ear:
"I'll pick up some of that hand lotion that you like on the way home, okay? Just promise me that you won't let Lee DeWyze sweet talk you into moving to Tinsel Town with him and being his new hot arm candy, okay?"
Like that boy has a chance with Bing in the house.....Sheesh.
Maria: (barely coherent, WHY does she insist on talking to me in the morning?) What is there to talk about? We leave at the butt crack of dawn....why on EARTH you scheduled a 6 a.m. flight is beyond me.....
B: Hey, we change planes in Chicago, you might see Lee DeWyze....
Flicker of a smile on Maria's face.
B: But, seriously...here...take these. I picked them up at Walgreens for you.
Bing hands Maria a plastic bag. Inside are:
1) Jumbo kotex
2) surgical face masks
3) a new folding cane
WHAT?
Bing: The kotex is in case you feel like you might have diarrhea again. Just um...push the kotex up close to your butt in case you don't make it to the bathroom or have to wait...The face mask is for your protection. You are already pretty weak. ALL we need is for you to pick up another virus. And the cane? IT FOLDS! So much handier than that walking stick you lug around when your knee swells up.
Maria: God, you make me feel so attractive....the least you could have done was bought some of that hot kiss shea butter hand lotion that I like to make up for making me feel like some crusty octogenarian! And I WILL NOT wear a surgical mask on the plane. NO. If there is one chance in a million that I will catch a glimpse of Lee DeWyze, he is not going to see me in a surgical mask with a cane. No, sirree bob.
Bing: Must you always be the diva? You are plenty sexy enough for me. So, you aren't Brittney Spears. How about if Liv and I both wear surgical masks too so you don't feel so alone?
Liv looks up from her oatmeal and slowly shakes her head at me. No. Way.
I concur.
Maria: I was NEVER Brittney Spears. Do I look like some busty blond singer who pops out babies like I don't understand birth control? And I have no interest in strapping on some tablecloth between my legs. I will take Imodium before we leave. You will remind me because you are good at that shit, I mean stuff. And I plan to pack those pretty strappy heels, just in case.
Bing: Are you sure you're a lesbian? Because I swear you sound like a Barbie doll this morning. No mask. No kotex. No cane. Strappy heels...
Maria: And lipstick. Cherries in the snow. Dark red.
Maria goes up to Bing and wraps her arms around her waist. Cuddles until Bing sighs and hugs back.
Bing leans down and whispers into Maria's ear:
"I'll pick up some of that hand lotion that you like on the way home, okay? Just promise me that you won't let Lee DeWyze sweet talk you into moving to Tinsel Town with him and being his new hot arm candy, okay?"
Like that boy has a chance with Bing in the house.....Sheesh.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Morning dialogue
Bing: Well, you seem to have a little more color this morning. Feelin' any better, dear?
Maria: Nods.
(Maria is not a morning person.)
B: You know, think of it like this: it was one week in your life. One blip on your very big large radar screen.
M: (scowling...typical morning face) Easy for you to say, buster. You weren't the one trapped in this body for that week.
B: (backing away gently) Point taken, honey.
As she leans down to kiss Maria goodbye, the smell of her broccoli sprout toast breath hits Maria's nostrils.
She doesn't get her morning goodbye kiss.
Maria: Nods.
(Maria is not a morning person.)
B: You know, think of it like this: it was one week in your life. One blip on your very big large radar screen.
M: (scowling...typical morning face) Easy for you to say, buster. You weren't the one trapped in this body for that week.
B: (backing away gently) Point taken, honey.
As she leans down to kiss Maria goodbye, the smell of her broccoli sprout toast breath hits Maria's nostrils.
She doesn't get her morning goodbye kiss.
Wednesday, March 09, 2011
Poor correspondent
Sorry about that.
Thank you all so much for your numerous good wishes and advice. Wow. Food poisoning, I am discovering, is not much what medical tomes tell you. Since I was diagnosed, I have heard countless stories (mostly from co-workers....one who scared the shit out of me by swearing that it took her a YEAR to fully recover from a bout with it) and been given much advice (the best one? SLEEP.)
I still feel pretty gnarly, can only keep seven up and crackers down and a few spoonfuls of Mrs. Grass a day. Bing tried to entice me with a chocolate malt from Goodrich last night. She won't do that again. It looked drinkable and I thought everything would be okay until I was halfway through and then suddenly knew that it was not going to stay down. Sticking to seven up from now on. And pedialyte. Which is fucking vile. No wonder Liv would never drink it when she was a baby.
Lab tests came back. Doing well except for severe anemia, dehydration and low, low potassium. So, trying to eat that chicken noodle soup. Seriously.
I still intend to leave with Bing and Liv to spend a week visiting Bing's family in the Big Easy. My niece is all prepared to come house and dog sit while we are gone, so if y'all (see? I already sound like Bing's family) hear a wild party, come right in and scold her ass. She is nineteen and been done TOLD that there will be no parties. Our neighbors will keep her in line, of that I am sure. And yes, I have told her that they are on watch. I trust her, but she is nineteen and I remember how easy it was to fall into the serious stupids at nineteen.
Right now, the worst that can happen is that I forget to take Imodium before the plane ride, or that Bing's Auntie Kat will try to force feed me gumbo. Mostly, I intend to lollygag around and take it easy. Forget about all those children in my office who are on hold next week. Bing says to pack capris and sweaters. I am almost giddy with joy at the thought of a world without serious wind chills.
And yes, we are going AFTER Mardi Gras. Bing has an Apple meeting that coincides with our trip, and we are kind of glad to skip the crowds. I plan to be well enough to visit all the voodoo shops and get a new deck of tarot cards. My old ones are threadbare. Liv wants to go on a ghost tour. Bing? She just wants to eat her fill of crawfish pie (actually gagged a bit as I wrote that....) and let her southern accent rise to the surface again.
She tells me that I can lay tucked up in a blanket ON THE PORCH this time of year. I just want to feel some warm sun on my face with no cold wind at my back.
I just need to get there without puking. My first goal.
I am so sorry that I haven't been around to visit your blogs lately. I've been a slug, gone to work and come home and right to bed. So tired that I fell asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. Liv told me that she got in with me for a while last night and I patted her head and said, "Okay, Socksie...time to get down now...." Luckily, I have an understanding daughter who is mainly just thrilled to get out of school for a solid week right before Spring break....how cool is THAT?
My goal tonight is to watch American Idol and then take a steaming hot bath and get in bed.
It's good to try for the sky.....:)
Anyway, thanks, all. Have a good week. I will check in before we leave on Saturday.
Thank you all so much for your numerous good wishes and advice. Wow. Food poisoning, I am discovering, is not much what medical tomes tell you. Since I was diagnosed, I have heard countless stories (mostly from co-workers....one who scared the shit out of me by swearing that it took her a YEAR to fully recover from a bout with it) and been given much advice (the best one? SLEEP.)
I still feel pretty gnarly, can only keep seven up and crackers down and a few spoonfuls of Mrs. Grass a day. Bing tried to entice me with a chocolate malt from Goodrich last night. She won't do that again. It looked drinkable and I thought everything would be okay until I was halfway through and then suddenly knew that it was not going to stay down. Sticking to seven up from now on. And pedialyte. Which is fucking vile. No wonder Liv would never drink it when she was a baby.
Lab tests came back. Doing well except for severe anemia, dehydration and low, low potassium. So, trying to eat that chicken noodle soup. Seriously.
I still intend to leave with Bing and Liv to spend a week visiting Bing's family in the Big Easy. My niece is all prepared to come house and dog sit while we are gone, so if y'all (see? I already sound like Bing's family) hear a wild party, come right in and scold her ass. She is nineteen and been done TOLD that there will be no parties. Our neighbors will keep her in line, of that I am sure. And yes, I have told her that they are on watch. I trust her, but she is nineteen and I remember how easy it was to fall into the serious stupids at nineteen.
Right now, the worst that can happen is that I forget to take Imodium before the plane ride, or that Bing's Auntie Kat will try to force feed me gumbo. Mostly, I intend to lollygag around and take it easy. Forget about all those children in my office who are on hold next week. Bing says to pack capris and sweaters. I am almost giddy with joy at the thought of a world without serious wind chills.
And yes, we are going AFTER Mardi Gras. Bing has an Apple meeting that coincides with our trip, and we are kind of glad to skip the crowds. I plan to be well enough to visit all the voodoo shops and get a new deck of tarot cards. My old ones are threadbare. Liv wants to go on a ghost tour. Bing? She just wants to eat her fill of crawfish pie (actually gagged a bit as I wrote that....) and let her southern accent rise to the surface again.
She tells me that I can lay tucked up in a blanket ON THE PORCH this time of year. I just want to feel some warm sun on my face with no cold wind at my back.
I just need to get there without puking. My first goal.
I am so sorry that I haven't been around to visit your blogs lately. I've been a slug, gone to work and come home and right to bed. So tired that I fell asleep within seconds of my head hitting the pillow. Liv told me that she got in with me for a while last night and I patted her head and said, "Okay, Socksie...time to get down now...." Luckily, I have an understanding daughter who is mainly just thrilled to get out of school for a solid week right before Spring break....how cool is THAT?
My goal tonight is to watch American Idol and then take a steaming hot bath and get in bed.
It's good to try for the sky.....:)
Anyway, thanks, all. Have a good week. I will check in before we leave on Saturday.
Tuesday, March 08, 2011
Still so sick
Ugh. Weak as a kitten. Still so sick. Can barely eat anything. We are supposed to leave for a family vacation on Saturday for a week in New Orleans.
Must get better.
Must get better.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
No memory
I slept all day. Just woke up and read my own post. I barely remember writing it and have no recall at all of the dream.
If I hadn't written it down, I would have never remembered it.
Life is so bewildering.
If I hadn't written it down, I would have never remembered it.
Life is so bewildering.
The oddest dream in the world....
Still so sick, but wanted to write down this dream so I don't forget it.
In my dream, I am in some sort of cottage like place, doesn't look familiar at all, yet...it is home. I know this. I don't think I've seen it in this lifetime, but maybe another?
I am in a feather bed. It isn't nearly as comfortable as you would think.
A man comes in and I smile hugely. I KNOW him. I dream about him occasionally, but I don't know him in this lifetime. He looks like that actor...the one in that movie with Amy Adams...the really stupid one. What is it? Leap Year. The actor is Matthew Goode. But, my guy has much longer hair.
He puts a cool washrag on my forehead. Says something to me in Celtic, sounds like, Tuatha De Dannan? He picks up a small white bundle and tips it over. It's Liv, when she was an infant, except it looks nothing like my Liv. But, I know it is her. I look up at him.
"Liv?" I say.
He smiles and laughs. Says something about me being still wobbly from the birth.
"It's Ostara," he tells me. Our daughter. Our beautiful baby, our child from Sidhe. A blessing.
I tell him that I only see him in my dreams now.
He says, "I'm from a different life, my love. It was short but it was good. You left us so very young. I missed you for my whole life, never re-married. But, Ostara? She grew up to be a Sean achai, a storyteller. I made sure that she knew you with my words."
I feel myself waking up and tell him so. He frowns. Takes my hands in his. "Just hold on. Stay longer," he pleads.
I take his hands but I can feel myself slipping away.
My last picture of him are his eyes, usually so merry, but now so serious.
When I wake up, I almost start crying with missing him. I dream of this guy once in awhile...enough to call him "that guy in my dreams."
And now I am fairly sure that I believe that we live more than one lifetime.
In my dream, I am in some sort of cottage like place, doesn't look familiar at all, yet...it is home. I know this. I don't think I've seen it in this lifetime, but maybe another?
I am in a feather bed. It isn't nearly as comfortable as you would think.
A man comes in and I smile hugely. I KNOW him. I dream about him occasionally, but I don't know him in this lifetime. He looks like that actor...the one in that movie with Amy Adams...the really stupid one. What is it? Leap Year. The actor is Matthew Goode. But, my guy has much longer hair.
He puts a cool washrag on my forehead. Says something to me in Celtic, sounds like, Tuatha De Dannan? He picks up a small white bundle and tips it over. It's Liv, when she was an infant, except it looks nothing like my Liv. But, I know it is her. I look up at him.
"Liv?" I say.
He smiles and laughs. Says something about me being still wobbly from the birth.
"It's Ostara," he tells me. Our daughter. Our beautiful baby, our child from Sidhe. A blessing.
I tell him that I only see him in my dreams now.
He says, "I'm from a different life, my love. It was short but it was good. You left us so very young. I missed you for my whole life, never re-married. But, Ostara? She grew up to be a Sean achai, a storyteller. I made sure that she knew you with my words."
I feel myself waking up and tell him so. He frowns. Takes my hands in his. "Just hold on. Stay longer," he pleads.
I take his hands but I can feel myself slipping away.
My last picture of him are his eyes, usually so merry, but now so serious.
When I wake up, I almost start crying with missing him. I dream of this guy once in awhile...enough to call him "that guy in my dreams."
And now I am fairly sure that I believe that we live more than one lifetime.
Just shoot me
Update:
Thursday night at dinner: Bing brought home 3 peanut butter cupcakes from a bake sale at her school. I was the only one who was still hungry after dinner so I stared to eat mine. I noticed that it seemed to taste a bit off. I told Bing and Liv this and threw the rest in the trash.
2 hours later: All three of us are watching American Idol. Yes, even Bing, the Idol hater. I tell Bing that my stomach feels kind of sick.
Within ten minutes, I am running into the bathroom where I throw up everything in my stomach. Or so I thought.
I go back in the living room but within ten minutes I am off to the bathroom again. Sick again.
So, I just go to bed.
I am up every half hour throwing up. In the middle of the night, I am not only puking but having terrible diarrhea as well.
Food poisoning I think. That damn cupcake. I knew it.
Bing brings a bucket into the bathroom so that I can puke and have explosive diarrhea at the same time.
About 3 in the morning, I get up to shit AGAIN and oh-my-fucking-GOD-NO! I don't make it. Shit all over the floor. The smell causes me to throw up profusely.
I am so sick that I can't even clean up after myself. Bing, ever the loyal mate, keeps telling me that it is okay, she will clean it up, etc. She does this. At one point I blearily look over at her and see her holding her nose with one hand while she cleans with the other. Cleaning up someone else's shit is the worst. The worst.
I somehow remember to call my secretary to tell her the I won't be in on Friday.
Bing and Liv go off to school and work. Bing is afraid to leave me. Says she has never seen me this sick. I honestly have never felt this sick. I am so thirsty that I am dreaming about frosty glasses of seven up but whenever I try to drink anything, it comes right back up. When I know I am alone, I just lay there and cry weakly. I want to die. I honestly would be okay if I died. I can barely get up to use the bathroom, but am DETERMINED that I will NOT shit on the floor again, so I get up and literally WEAVE into the bathroom and somehow make it every time.
Bing and Liv come back home. Bing is seriously concerned about my diabetes now since I haven't eaten. She tests my blood sugar and sternly tells me that I have to eat something. I tell her that I will try. I haven't thrown up in a few hours. Maybe it will stay down. I ask for a glass of orange juice with lots and lots of ice.
I drink the entire glass of juice and it stays down. I try to eat some Mrs. Grass soup but only get two bites down. I am so glad that Bing is here. I honestly don't think I would be able to get through this alone. I can barely pull my own underpants up without falling over.
Bing suggests that we go to the hospital. I decline. Go back to bed. Tell her to sleep in the guest room again.
I spend the entire day in bed on Saturday but Bing wakes me up every few hours with juice and toast. I manage to get some of it down.
One time when Bing brings me juice, I start crying and thank her for being the best partner on the planet. She says, "How can I help myself? You look so sexy..."
I can't even laugh. I get up to go sit in the living room for a few moments because Bing tells me that Liv is concerned. I tell Liv that I think that there was something wrong with those cupcakes and I am so glad that she didn't eat hers. She tells me that Bing threw them away. I eat a bowl of Mrs. Grass soup. Bing hands me the remote and tells me to find something good. I settle on Away We Go. Liv goes back to her studying.
For some reason, I am moved beyond words at this film and begin weeping copiously. Bing comes into the living room anxiously, asking me what is wrong. I say something incoherent about how beautiful this film is. She is looking at me as if I am insane, so I tell her that I am just so very tired and need to go back to bed.
I do that.
I sleep until 5 and notice that I am not as wobbly as I was before.
I get up and go to the medicine cabinet and take all my meds for RA and give myself my diabetes shot.
I decide to update this blog just to prove that I am getting better.
Now, I am going back to bed.
Aren't you glad that I keep you updated on every single gross moment of my life?
Thursday night at dinner: Bing brought home 3 peanut butter cupcakes from a bake sale at her school. I was the only one who was still hungry after dinner so I stared to eat mine. I noticed that it seemed to taste a bit off. I told Bing and Liv this and threw the rest in the trash.
2 hours later: All three of us are watching American Idol. Yes, even Bing, the Idol hater. I tell Bing that my stomach feels kind of sick.
Within ten minutes, I am running into the bathroom where I throw up everything in my stomach. Or so I thought.
I go back in the living room but within ten minutes I am off to the bathroom again. Sick again.
So, I just go to bed.
I am up every half hour throwing up. In the middle of the night, I am not only puking but having terrible diarrhea as well.
Food poisoning I think. That damn cupcake. I knew it.
Bing brings a bucket into the bathroom so that I can puke and have explosive diarrhea at the same time.
About 3 in the morning, I get up to shit AGAIN and oh-my-fucking-GOD-NO! I don't make it. Shit all over the floor. The smell causes me to throw up profusely.
I am so sick that I can't even clean up after myself. Bing, ever the loyal mate, keeps telling me that it is okay, she will clean it up, etc. She does this. At one point I blearily look over at her and see her holding her nose with one hand while she cleans with the other. Cleaning up someone else's shit is the worst. The worst.
I somehow remember to call my secretary to tell her the I won't be in on Friday.
Bing and Liv go off to school and work. Bing is afraid to leave me. Says she has never seen me this sick. I honestly have never felt this sick. I am so thirsty that I am dreaming about frosty glasses of seven up but whenever I try to drink anything, it comes right back up. When I know I am alone, I just lay there and cry weakly. I want to die. I honestly would be okay if I died. I can barely get up to use the bathroom, but am DETERMINED that I will NOT shit on the floor again, so I get up and literally WEAVE into the bathroom and somehow make it every time.
Bing and Liv come back home. Bing is seriously concerned about my diabetes now since I haven't eaten. She tests my blood sugar and sternly tells me that I have to eat something. I tell her that I will try. I haven't thrown up in a few hours. Maybe it will stay down. I ask for a glass of orange juice with lots and lots of ice.
I drink the entire glass of juice and it stays down. I try to eat some Mrs. Grass soup but only get two bites down. I am so glad that Bing is here. I honestly don't think I would be able to get through this alone. I can barely pull my own underpants up without falling over.
Bing suggests that we go to the hospital. I decline. Go back to bed. Tell her to sleep in the guest room again.
I spend the entire day in bed on Saturday but Bing wakes me up every few hours with juice and toast. I manage to get some of it down.
One time when Bing brings me juice, I start crying and thank her for being the best partner on the planet. She says, "How can I help myself? You look so sexy..."
I can't even laugh. I get up to go sit in the living room for a few moments because Bing tells me that Liv is concerned. I tell Liv that I think that there was something wrong with those cupcakes and I am so glad that she didn't eat hers. She tells me that Bing threw them away. I eat a bowl of Mrs. Grass soup. Bing hands me the remote and tells me to find something good. I settle on Away We Go. Liv goes back to her studying.
For some reason, I am moved beyond words at this film and begin weeping copiously. Bing comes into the living room anxiously, asking me what is wrong. I say something incoherent about how beautiful this film is. She is looking at me as if I am insane, so I tell her that I am just so very tired and need to go back to bed.
I do that.
I sleep until 5 and notice that I am not as wobbly as I was before.
I get up and go to the medicine cabinet and take all my meds for RA and give myself my diabetes shot.
I decide to update this blog just to prove that I am getting better.
Now, I am going back to bed.
Aren't you glad that I keep you updated on every single gross moment of my life?
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