Just because the e-mails are getting a little....CHURLISH, dudes!
Yes, the talk with the priest went well. I ended up saying that I live with my partner and he didn't bat an eyelash.
He said that he found Liv to be a "spirited, highly intelligent child."
I agreed totally. And then he said, almost flirtatiously...."And I see that she gets a lot of her personality from you, you are such a fresh and candid woman."
Yup, that's me. All fresh and candid. And at 7:45 in the morning to boot. It wasn't like I went into a discussion about lesbian love or anything, I just tried to answer his questions honestly. He never once asked me to elaborate on my partner. For all I know, he thinks it is a man.
We talked a lot about Liv's transition from Montessori methods to typical American classroom protocol. He said that they had many Montessori transplants and all did well.
I liked him a great deal. And call me crazy...but my gaydar was going off like crazy the whole time that I was with him, especially when he complimented my purse.
So...in a nutshell....we shall see, but I am feeling pretty okay so far.
Time will tell. Time will tell.
Friday, April 29, 2011
True story 2
I woke up around 5:15 this morning to pee and as I was heading back to bed, I realized that I could see Kate Middleton's dress RIGHT NOW if I turned on the television.
So, I very, very quietly turned on the television in our bedroom to get a glimpse.
It was gorgeous.
And then I heard a soft groan from the bed. Bing.
"God, you are such a GIRL!"
Fuck it. It was just a glimpse. And then, ok, I watched for like five minutes just until Will smiled at her. I had to stay for THAT.
This is really kind of pathetic, isn't it?
So, I very, very quietly turned on the television in our bedroom to get a glimpse.
It was gorgeous.
And then I heard a soft groan from the bed. Bing.
"God, you are such a GIRL!"
Fuck it. It was just a glimpse. And then, ok, I watched for like five minutes just until Will smiled at her. I had to stay for THAT.
This is really kind of pathetic, isn't it?
Thursday, April 28, 2011
wish me luck
Decision made. With Bing and Liv behind me.
I will not lie. But, I am not going to go all strident either. I think I agree with Mme B and ZC's ideas the most. So, I will do what one of my heroes said once in a wonderful poem:
"tell the truth but tell it slant"...... Emily Dickinson
I will answer truthfully that Liv's father and I never married and that he is currently living in Colorado with plans to teach in Paris through the summer. That he is a geologist and that Liv has a very good relationship with him and will be visiting him for 10 days this summer.
I doubt that he will ask if I have a boyfriend, etc. So, I won't volunteer anything. But, I will not lie if asked a direct question. And Liv knows that she is not to lie either when she starts attending school. She can say whatever feels most comfortable to her. She and I have discussed the implications of what might happen once the truth is out though. Frankly, I think she is a bit naive in thinking that this will not be a big deal to anyone. She has been sheltered in a school for most of her 11 years, a school that has been very accepting and supportive of my lifestyle and the parents at this school tend to think likewise. As far as I know, none of her classmate's parents have ever refused to have us in their circle.
The real world is not kind to those of us who are different. And I am plunging her into a parochial school.
I also know that this principal, a priest, may have moral obligations that he might not agree with with and could easily rescind Liv's acceptance if I come out and just say that Liv has two mothers.
So, yes...I never thought I would say this, but for now I am going with a "don't ask, don't tell" philosophy. And I have always been an ask and tell person. So, goes against my grain a bit.
We shall see. All I can do is hope that this works out and try to prepare Liv for the fact that it may not.
I would do anything to protect her and the thought of someone saying hurtful things to her, hurtful things about me? Well, it makes my heart ache. She is my baby, my bluebell, my sweet potato pie and the love of my life.
I just have to trust us both to do what we can and leave the rest.
And trust, as another writer said, the kindness of strangers.
And...I promise, I will be spending the next few days catching up on your blogs. I have been sidetracked by IDOL and GLEE this week...such a TV hog...
I will not lie. But, I am not going to go all strident either. I think I agree with Mme B and ZC's ideas the most. So, I will do what one of my heroes said once in a wonderful poem:
"tell the truth but tell it slant"...... Emily Dickinson
I will answer truthfully that Liv's father and I never married and that he is currently living in Colorado with plans to teach in Paris through the summer. That he is a geologist and that Liv has a very good relationship with him and will be visiting him for 10 days this summer.
I doubt that he will ask if I have a boyfriend, etc. So, I won't volunteer anything. But, I will not lie if asked a direct question. And Liv knows that she is not to lie either when she starts attending school. She can say whatever feels most comfortable to her. She and I have discussed the implications of what might happen once the truth is out though. Frankly, I think she is a bit naive in thinking that this will not be a big deal to anyone. She has been sheltered in a school for most of her 11 years, a school that has been very accepting and supportive of my lifestyle and the parents at this school tend to think likewise. As far as I know, none of her classmate's parents have ever refused to have us in their circle.
The real world is not kind to those of us who are different. And I am plunging her into a parochial school.
I also know that this principal, a priest, may have moral obligations that he might not agree with with and could easily rescind Liv's acceptance if I come out and just say that Liv has two mothers.
So, yes...I never thought I would say this, but for now I am going with a "don't ask, don't tell" philosophy. And I have always been an ask and tell person. So, goes against my grain a bit.
We shall see. All I can do is hope that this works out and try to prepare Liv for the fact that it may not.
I would do anything to protect her and the thought of someone saying hurtful things to her, hurtful things about me? Well, it makes my heart ache. She is my baby, my bluebell, my sweet potato pie and the love of my life.
I just have to trust us both to do what we can and leave the rest.
And trust, as another writer said, the kindness of strangers.
And...I promise, I will be spending the next few days catching up on your blogs. I have been sidetracked by IDOL and GLEE this week...such a TV hog...
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
A question and I want your honest opinion.
1) What is your opinion of this: My daughter has been in a Montessori school all of her school days. This is a tiny school, very green, very um...feelings oriented. (When you have an argument with another child, you present them with this plastic red rose to say you are sorry and then you hug....I know, I know...it is probably swell but frankly it makes me feel a bit gaggy every time I see it.) Her class is very small, but several grades (3-6) are in one room, so about 30 children. Liv is used to being a classroom with no desks, only working tables and a lot of work is done sitting on the ecologically heated floors. She has never learned in a classroom setting. She has learned in small groups or one on one and parts of her day are spent sharing her knowledge with younger children. Mentoring. They all do this from day one. She (and most of her classmates) score off the charts in standardized tests.
But, her school only goes up to 6th grade. Which she is in.
So, we have spent the last year touring junior highs. We went to our neighborhood public school and I was less than impressed. Some of the public schools in our city are incredible, others not so much. Our school is in the not so much category. The classrooms seemed huge and out of the over ten teachers that I met, I only really liked one and she was a behavior disorder teacher....so Liv will not be in her classroom. Liv wasn't impressed either.
We went to the private school just a block away from our home and we both detested it. I think it may have had something to do with the way the word PRIVILEGE screamed out everywhere. From the notice boards offering massage for toddlers to the child who came sauntering into the office while we were waiting to meet with the principal and sullenly asked the secretary to break a hundred dollar bill for him. His dad had given it to him FOR LUNCH MONEY. I looked around at the designer dressed girls who all seemed to be whispering rudely behind their hands at us and decided that I hated this school. Liv didn't like it either.
We toured two other Montessori schools that went through high school, but I did not think that Maria Montessori's core philosophy was adhered to, plus the schools were so far to the west of the city that it would be a 45 minute jaunt every day. Liv was disappointed in their science labs, so it was a no for her too.
At last we started touring parochial schools. I went in looking for problems. And found some. But, two of the schools seemed beautifully run and although the classes were large (32 in most classes), they looked like a clean, happy, safe place where a child could learn, albeit in a classroom setting, which Liv would have to adjust to. Liv was bowled over by one of the school's robotic labs and loved the math and music wings.
She settled on St. John Paul Elementary School (most parochial schools here go up to 8th grade.)
So, now...she has decided. And I am sort of unsure of this. A CATHOLIC SCHOOL? Where it is MANDATORY that she attend mass every Friday morning? And wear a uniform?
How does a girl with two mamas fit into this school? How can I? How can Bing? How can our family? And am I a hypocrite?
Liv and I have talked a lot about this. She maintains that she will approach the whole mass thing as a learning experience. ("I don't know much about Catholicism and this will be a good chance to learn, don't you think?")
I have told her about the Catholic church's stand on homosexuality on abortion. Liv rolled her eyes. Suggested that maybe it would take several families like ours to change some minds.
"Somebody has to go first and I am pretty sure we aren't the first family like ours to go to Catholic school, Mama!"
My pragmatic, practical daughter.
I have arranged a meeting with the principal (A PRIEST!) tomorrow. I am not sure how many cards to lay on this particular table. Liv has already been accepted, so that worry is over. But, they could rescind this. Liv thinks I should just be totally honest and let things play out.
What do you think and what do you think of this whole situation? Am I a hypocrite? Be honest? I wanna hear....
But, her school only goes up to 6th grade. Which she is in.
So, we have spent the last year touring junior highs. We went to our neighborhood public school and I was less than impressed. Some of the public schools in our city are incredible, others not so much. Our school is in the not so much category. The classrooms seemed huge and out of the over ten teachers that I met, I only really liked one and she was a behavior disorder teacher....so Liv will not be in her classroom. Liv wasn't impressed either.
We went to the private school just a block away from our home and we both detested it. I think it may have had something to do with the way the word PRIVILEGE screamed out everywhere. From the notice boards offering massage for toddlers to the child who came sauntering into the office while we were waiting to meet with the principal and sullenly asked the secretary to break a hundred dollar bill for him. His dad had given it to him FOR LUNCH MONEY. I looked around at the designer dressed girls who all seemed to be whispering rudely behind their hands at us and decided that I hated this school. Liv didn't like it either.
We toured two other Montessori schools that went through high school, but I did not think that Maria Montessori's core philosophy was adhered to, plus the schools were so far to the west of the city that it would be a 45 minute jaunt every day. Liv was disappointed in their science labs, so it was a no for her too.
At last we started touring parochial schools. I went in looking for problems. And found some. But, two of the schools seemed beautifully run and although the classes were large (32 in most classes), they looked like a clean, happy, safe place where a child could learn, albeit in a classroom setting, which Liv would have to adjust to. Liv was bowled over by one of the school's robotic labs and loved the math and music wings.
She settled on St. John Paul Elementary School (most parochial schools here go up to 8th grade.)
So, now...she has decided. And I am sort of unsure of this. A CATHOLIC SCHOOL? Where it is MANDATORY that she attend mass every Friday morning? And wear a uniform?
How does a girl with two mamas fit into this school? How can I? How can Bing? How can our family? And am I a hypocrite?
Liv and I have talked a lot about this. She maintains that she will approach the whole mass thing as a learning experience. ("I don't know much about Catholicism and this will be a good chance to learn, don't you think?")
I have told her about the Catholic church's stand on homosexuality on abortion. Liv rolled her eyes. Suggested that maybe it would take several families like ours to change some minds.
"Somebody has to go first and I am pretty sure we aren't the first family like ours to go to Catholic school, Mama!"
My pragmatic, practical daughter.
I have arranged a meeting with the principal (A PRIEST!) tomorrow. I am not sure how many cards to lay on this particular table. Liv has already been accepted, so that worry is over. But, they could rescind this. Liv thinks I should just be totally honest and let things play out.
What do you think and what do you think of this whole situation? Am I a hypocrite? Be honest? I wanna hear....
Monday, April 25, 2011
Texts to Sven
And e-mails. And voice mail.
April 23, 9:00 a.m. TEXT
I'll b in "PUT CITY HERE" around 2, yr time. Can you maybe pk me up at the arprt so I don't hafta take a cab to my htl?
April 23, 11:15 a.m. TEXT
Dude?
April 23, 2:40 p.m. TEXT
Ok, dick breath. I'm taking a cab. I'm @ "PUT HOTEL HERE." How bout dinner tonite?
April 23, 4:00 p.m. e-mail
Sven,
C'mon. I am in your fair city. All by my lonesome. I want to see that Space Needle really badly and since tomorrow is Easter, it will be closed. So..can't you put your exciting twenty something life on hold to escort a crippled old broad around the city? I will buy you dinner, too. Anywhere you like. Even Greek and you know how I feel about Greek food. Honey, just ANSWER so I know that you are alive? Please?
Just a little bit crabby,
M
April 23, 5:15 p.m. Voice mail.
using pronounced Jewish mother voice
Sven?
It's Maria. Your next door neighbor who took care of you when I had a million other things to do and you acted like a brat. I'm the one who taught you that peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches were the best. I'm the one who took you to your drum lessons and sat outside in that waiting room that smelled like ass and didn't complain even once. I also took you to your first concert, remember? Incubus?
I'm the one who came all the way up here to this place where everyone seems to be wearing lumberjack shirts, so I actually bought one at a store near my hotel. It is red and black. I look really bull dykey. I promise I won't wear it, though, to dinner. Deal? Just call, will ya? C'mon. I'm bored. There is a Victoria's Secret shop right down the block and if you don't call, I will be forced to go buy some frilly shit to compensate for the lumberjack shirt and then Bing will hit the roof when she sees the bill. Honey? Pick up, please?
Okay. Or not. This is on your head, you know. I will go shopping and buy something god awful frilly and it is all your fault, douche bag.
Honey? Sleep well, yes? Maybe we can go easter egg hunting tomorrow?
On Easter Sunday, I got a rental car and drove to the address that Sven's mom gave me. A very dicey neighborhood. I knocked/rang the bell on the front door. For about ten minutes.
Easter Sunday, Noon. voice mail
Sven? I'm right outside your door. It is freakin' dismal out here. No wonder you aren't at your best. Does the sun EVER come out here? Hey, wanna see my new lumberjack shirt? I also have hiking boots and I noticed that all the cool people seem to be wearing them unlaced. What the fuck is that about? You don't do that, do you? Because it just looks stupid, you know? Sven? C'MON. My hand is getting tired of ringing that bell and knocking. Please?
the door is finally answered by a guy in boxers and a tee shirt...he has piercings all over his face and he looks like he might want to break me in two...
Conversation with Sven's roomie. Easter Sunday. 1:40 p.m.
Pierced guy: Lady? What the fuck?
Maria: Um. Hi. I am looking for Sven.
PG: He ain't here. God, you are one persistent bitch, you know that.
Maria: (trying for humor) HEY! I am elderly. Cut me some slack. And maybe you could offer me some water? A cadbury egg? Um....some boiled rabbit?
PG: (a half smile) I said he ain't here.
M: So, where is he?
PG: Hell if I know. Probably with his girlfriend.
M: When do you think he will be back? Any ideas?
PG: Do I look like a hall monitor to you?
M: Well, sorry. To have bothered you. But, you know...if you know where he is, why don't you do this one good thing and tell me so that I can talk to him? I came a long way.....
PG: If you wanna come in and wait, you can. But, I warn you. I bite. And he is sometimes gone for days....
M: No thanks. But, hey...tell him that Maria was here, okay? Please? C'mon, dude. Be decent.
PG: Bye, Lady. I wouldn't hang around waiting for him. Like I said, he is sometimes gone for days.
M: WAIT! Can you at least tell me his favorite bar to hang out in? I could use a drink....
PG: Sorry. Can't help you. Now, git.
door closes
There is a pine cone laying on the porch and I stupidly pick it up and throw it hard at the door and then even more stupidly, wait.
Nothing. No bites. I am surprised to find Victoria's Secret open and so I go in and spend way too much money on some underpants and a rose colored bra, actually I believe the color is called salmon. I look at a lacy camisole and debate buying it, decide that while Bing will like it, it will just make me itch. I don't call home because I know that if I hear her voice even once, I will start crying.
Easter Sunday, 3:45 p.m. text
I met your roomie. Wow. What a sweet guy. Tell ya what. I'm done 4 the day. Fuck you very much. Also...<3 u too. Easter Sunday 6 p.m. Voice mail.
Meet me for supper + I'll give you 500 cash. No questions asked.
Easter Sunday 10:00 p.m. text
Goin 2 bed. U win. If u want breakfast, b @ rm 402 by 7 a.m. Sven? C'mon, don't b a penis breath douche bag.
April 25, 9 a.m. text
Leavin' on a jet plane. Miss u. No matter what, I <3 you. Liv sent sev pics. Left them in yr mailbox. I'm a ph call away, dude. Nothin so bad that we can't find a way out 4 u. April 25, 9:10 a.m. voice mail
Goodbye, Sven. I wish I knew what to say, what to do. Just know that I am always here if you need me. Always. Yes, that is me you hear bawling like a girl. Sorry about that, I just...am aching to hear your voice. We all love you. Hold on to that when there is nothing else, ok? Call me anytime and I will be there as fast as I can to help. Just...well...nothing, I guess. Bye, you.
April 25, 9:22 a.m. My phone lights up. The number is unfamiliar, the area code in Sven's city. I pick it up.
HELLO? HELLO? SVEN?
There is a quiet click. Then silence. I hurriedly call the number back before the flight attendant makes us shut our phones off. The phone rings and rings. There is no answer.
Later, I will call the number over my layover. It will be picked up by someone I don't know. A stranger in a bar. A pay phone for fucksakes. No, they have no idea who a Sven is. This is a bar, lady. We get lots of in and outers here.
I sit for a while, staring out at the Chicago sky line.
And then I catch my flight home.
April 23, 9:00 a.m. TEXT
I'll b in "PUT CITY HERE" around 2, yr time. Can you maybe pk me up at the arprt so I don't hafta take a cab to my htl?
April 23, 11:15 a.m. TEXT
Dude?
April 23, 2:40 p.m. TEXT
Ok, dick breath. I'm taking a cab. I'm @ "PUT HOTEL HERE." How bout dinner tonite?
April 23, 4:00 p.m. e-mail
Sven,
C'mon. I am in your fair city. All by my lonesome. I want to see that Space Needle really badly and since tomorrow is Easter, it will be closed. So..can't you put your exciting twenty something life on hold to escort a crippled old broad around the city? I will buy you dinner, too. Anywhere you like. Even Greek and you know how I feel about Greek food. Honey, just ANSWER so I know that you are alive? Please?
Just a little bit crabby,
M
April 23, 5:15 p.m. Voice mail.
using pronounced Jewish mother voice
Sven?
It's Maria. Your next door neighbor who took care of you when I had a million other things to do and you acted like a brat. I'm the one who taught you that peanut butter and potato chip sandwiches were the best. I'm the one who took you to your drum lessons and sat outside in that waiting room that smelled like ass and didn't complain even once. I also took you to your first concert, remember? Incubus?
I'm the one who came all the way up here to this place where everyone seems to be wearing lumberjack shirts, so I actually bought one at a store near my hotel. It is red and black. I look really bull dykey. I promise I won't wear it, though, to dinner. Deal? Just call, will ya? C'mon. I'm bored. There is a Victoria's Secret shop right down the block and if you don't call, I will be forced to go buy some frilly shit to compensate for the lumberjack shirt and then Bing will hit the roof when she sees the bill. Honey? Pick up, please?
Okay. Or not. This is on your head, you know. I will go shopping and buy something god awful frilly and it is all your fault, douche bag.
Honey? Sleep well, yes? Maybe we can go easter egg hunting tomorrow?
On Easter Sunday, I got a rental car and drove to the address that Sven's mom gave me. A very dicey neighborhood. I knocked/rang the bell on the front door. For about ten minutes.
Easter Sunday, Noon. voice mail
Sven? I'm right outside your door. It is freakin' dismal out here. No wonder you aren't at your best. Does the sun EVER come out here? Hey, wanna see my new lumberjack shirt? I also have hiking boots and I noticed that all the cool people seem to be wearing them unlaced. What the fuck is that about? You don't do that, do you? Because it just looks stupid, you know? Sven? C'MON. My hand is getting tired of ringing that bell and knocking. Please?
the door is finally answered by a guy in boxers and a tee shirt...he has piercings all over his face and he looks like he might want to break me in two...
Conversation with Sven's roomie. Easter Sunday. 1:40 p.m.
Pierced guy: Lady? What the fuck?
Maria: Um. Hi. I am looking for Sven.
PG: He ain't here. God, you are one persistent bitch, you know that.
Maria: (trying for humor) HEY! I am elderly. Cut me some slack. And maybe you could offer me some water? A cadbury egg? Um....some boiled rabbit?
PG: (a half smile) I said he ain't here.
M: So, where is he?
PG: Hell if I know. Probably with his girlfriend.
M: When do you think he will be back? Any ideas?
PG: Do I look like a hall monitor to you?
M: Well, sorry. To have bothered you. But, you know...if you know where he is, why don't you do this one good thing and tell me so that I can talk to him? I came a long way.....
PG: If you wanna come in and wait, you can. But, I warn you. I bite. And he is sometimes gone for days....
M: No thanks. But, hey...tell him that Maria was here, okay? Please? C'mon, dude. Be decent.
PG: Bye, Lady. I wouldn't hang around waiting for him. Like I said, he is sometimes gone for days.
M: WAIT! Can you at least tell me his favorite bar to hang out in? I could use a drink....
PG: Sorry. Can't help you. Now, git.
door closes
There is a pine cone laying on the porch and I stupidly pick it up and throw it hard at the door and then even more stupidly, wait.
Nothing. No bites. I am surprised to find Victoria's Secret open and so I go in and spend way too much money on some underpants and a rose colored bra, actually I believe the color is called salmon. I look at a lacy camisole and debate buying it, decide that while Bing will like it, it will just make me itch. I don't call home because I know that if I hear her voice even once, I will start crying.
Easter Sunday, 3:45 p.m. text
I met your roomie. Wow. What a sweet guy. Tell ya what. I'm done 4 the day. Fuck you very much. Also...<3 u too. Easter Sunday 6 p.m. Voice mail.
Meet me for supper + I'll give you 500 cash. No questions asked.
Easter Sunday 10:00 p.m. text
Goin 2 bed. U win. If u want breakfast, b @ rm 402 by 7 a.m. Sven? C'mon, don't b a penis breath douche bag.
April 25, 9 a.m. text
Leavin' on a jet plane. Miss u. No matter what, I <3 you. Liv sent sev pics. Left them in yr mailbox. I'm a ph call away, dude. Nothin so bad that we can't find a way out 4 u. April 25, 9:10 a.m. voice mail
Goodbye, Sven. I wish I knew what to say, what to do. Just know that I am always here if you need me. Always. Yes, that is me you hear bawling like a girl. Sorry about that, I just...am aching to hear your voice. We all love you. Hold on to that when there is nothing else, ok? Call me anytime and I will be there as fast as I can to help. Just...well...nothing, I guess. Bye, you.
April 25, 9:22 a.m. My phone lights up. The number is unfamiliar, the area code in Sven's city. I pick it up.
HELLO? HELLO? SVEN?
There is a quiet click. Then silence. I hurriedly call the number back before the flight attendant makes us shut our phones off. The phone rings and rings. There is no answer.
Later, I will call the number over my layover. It will be picked up by someone I don't know. A stranger in a bar. A pay phone for fucksakes. No, they have no idea who a Sven is. This is a bar, lady. We get lots of in and outers here.
I sit for a while, staring out at the Chicago sky line.
And then I catch my flight home.
Friday, April 22, 2011
And Just Like That
When the alarm went off this morning, I wanted to slug somebody. Anybody. Just make that talk radio SHUT THE FUCK UP. It had interrupted a very odd dream I was having about going to see the new Harry Potter movie before anyone else and having to watch it drive in style on a moving hay ride. The sound was bad and I was straining to hear. Plus, Sheryl Crow was giving a concert in the field next door and it was LOUD. And Bing, who was supposed to be sitting next to me quietly, kept jumping up to catch a glimpse of Sheryl.
We set the alarm to a christian talk radio show because it gets us out of bed and across the room to silence it as fast as we can.
As I walked towards the radio, I noticed that my toes were aching again. And my fingers. And my left knee. And my back. A long day. And then tomorrow? Leaving on a jet plane. Bummer.
I showered, holding my hands up under the wimpy water jets trying to get some mobility into them. I will go on record NOW as HATING our new shower. It is very ecologically made; our old shower was a 1950's model and shot water out like a fire hose. I had loved the pounding water on my back. This one is, as advertised on the faucet box, as "gentle as a soft spring rain!"
I hate it. I don't want to stand under a soft spring rain. I want a fucking thunderstorm of water. Bing, of course, is in heaven, and reminds me of the water we are saving daily. I just scowl at her.
After showering, I went into my bedroom to dress. I am seeing Willie today, a little seven year old who is distracted very easily, so I can't wear anything too interesting or we will never get through our session. I chose my soft brown suit with plain taupe stockings. No rocker chick tights today...
I looked into my closet and knew that it would not be a high heel day. Toes aching too much. Damn RA (rheumatoid arthritis)...so, I found some very plain brown flats. No jewelry except for my watch and ring from Bing.
I looked in the mirror and sighed. I looked like a school marm. Oh, well. I went to my lanyards to find a good one. I have about 40 of them. Since I wear a badge into my building every day, I figured that at least I would wear funky ones, so I have some great ones. I have a Muse one that a friend got me at their concert. A beautiful jeweled one that sparkles. My newest one is one from The Harlem Globetrotters. It sports a finger twirling a basketball over and over again and has my globetrotters name given to me by Big Easy himself: DIESEL. My daughter had snickered when he christened me and Bing had looked at me and said, "My god...she has your same exact snicker! What am I gonna do with BOTH of you doing that in the same house?"
I chose a plain brown leather one. It is simple and won't make Willie want to spend all of his time fingering it while I try to work with him.
I was trying to get my badge moved from my hula girl lanyard from yesterday, but my fingers weren't cooperating. I looked up to see Liv standing in the doorway. She came over sweetly and held out her hand.
"Let me help, Mama," she said.
I let her help.
But, it killed me. I work hard at having her NOT help me. I NEVER EVER want her to feel as if she has to take care of me. But, now I sat there helplessly with my stiff fingers while Liv deftly changed lanyards for me. And then she said, "I think I will have an orange and some yogurt for breakfast, but hey, I will peel my own orange, okay? No worries!" And then she pecked my cheek and was off.
I wanted to cry. I hate feeling so feeble.
I got my coffee and came into my office to check my e-mail.
I sat down crabbily at the computer, hands poised, knowing that it would take me a long time to answer the e-mails.
And then I saw it.
My cactus. My cactus that I have had for several years. It has never bloomed despite my sweet seductive whispers to it to "please bloom for me...you are so lovely!"
I relate to that cactus. It is like my alter ego. It is prickly and lives on its own terms. It asks to be watered twice a year and in the summer, it wants to be put outdoors. In return, it sits nicely in it's pink pot with the red hearts all over it.
But today....at the very tip of the top of it, a small pink bloom was emerging.
I take this an omen.
I am going to see Sven tomorrow. I am scared. He hasn't answered my texts, phone calls or card. But he knows that I am coming. Maybe, just maybe, he will see me.
But, my cactus bloomed. And my toe has stopped throbbing.
And just like that....my day feels better.
I will be taking my laptop with me, so I will stay in touch.
Kiss for luck? I'd kiss the cactus, but...no...bad idea....
We set the alarm to a christian talk radio show because it gets us out of bed and across the room to silence it as fast as we can.
As I walked towards the radio, I noticed that my toes were aching again. And my fingers. And my left knee. And my back. A long day. And then tomorrow? Leaving on a jet plane. Bummer.
I showered, holding my hands up under the wimpy water jets trying to get some mobility into them. I will go on record NOW as HATING our new shower. It is very ecologically made; our old shower was a 1950's model and shot water out like a fire hose. I had loved the pounding water on my back. This one is, as advertised on the faucet box, as "gentle as a soft spring rain!"
I hate it. I don't want to stand under a soft spring rain. I want a fucking thunderstorm of water. Bing, of course, is in heaven, and reminds me of the water we are saving daily. I just scowl at her.
After showering, I went into my bedroom to dress. I am seeing Willie today, a little seven year old who is distracted very easily, so I can't wear anything too interesting or we will never get through our session. I chose my soft brown suit with plain taupe stockings. No rocker chick tights today...
I looked into my closet and knew that it would not be a high heel day. Toes aching too much. Damn RA (rheumatoid arthritis)...so, I found some very plain brown flats. No jewelry except for my watch and ring from Bing.
I looked in the mirror and sighed. I looked like a school marm. Oh, well. I went to my lanyards to find a good one. I have about 40 of them. Since I wear a badge into my building every day, I figured that at least I would wear funky ones, so I have some great ones. I have a Muse one that a friend got me at their concert. A beautiful jeweled one that sparkles. My newest one is one from The Harlem Globetrotters. It sports a finger twirling a basketball over and over again and has my globetrotters name given to me by Big Easy himself: DIESEL. My daughter had snickered when he christened me and Bing had looked at me and said, "My god...she has your same exact snicker! What am I gonna do with BOTH of you doing that in the same house?"
I chose a plain brown leather one. It is simple and won't make Willie want to spend all of his time fingering it while I try to work with him.
I was trying to get my badge moved from my hula girl lanyard from yesterday, but my fingers weren't cooperating. I looked up to see Liv standing in the doorway. She came over sweetly and held out her hand.
"Let me help, Mama," she said.
I let her help.
But, it killed me. I work hard at having her NOT help me. I NEVER EVER want her to feel as if she has to take care of me. But, now I sat there helplessly with my stiff fingers while Liv deftly changed lanyards for me. And then she said, "I think I will have an orange and some yogurt for breakfast, but hey, I will peel my own orange, okay? No worries!" And then she pecked my cheek and was off.
I wanted to cry. I hate feeling so feeble.
I got my coffee and came into my office to check my e-mail.
I sat down crabbily at the computer, hands poised, knowing that it would take me a long time to answer the e-mails.
And then I saw it.
My cactus. My cactus that I have had for several years. It has never bloomed despite my sweet seductive whispers to it to "please bloom for me...you are so lovely!"
I relate to that cactus. It is like my alter ego. It is prickly and lives on its own terms. It asks to be watered twice a year and in the summer, it wants to be put outdoors. In return, it sits nicely in it's pink pot with the red hearts all over it.
But today....at the very tip of the top of it, a small pink bloom was emerging.
I take this an omen.
I am going to see Sven tomorrow. I am scared. He hasn't answered my texts, phone calls or card. But he knows that I am coming. Maybe, just maybe, he will see me.
But, my cactus bloomed. And my toe has stopped throbbing.
And just like that....my day feels better.
I will be taking my laptop with me, so I will stay in touch.
Kiss for luck? I'd kiss the cactus, but...no...bad idea....
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Naked as we came
We were laying in bed last night, holding each other before sleep.
I confess that I am not a snuggler, in general. But some rainy nights are made for cuddling up and whispering softly and last night was perfect for that.
I know every inch of her.
I know that her breath will smell like Crest toothpaste when she comes to bed. She knows that my face will be slathered with La Mer.
We talk softly about our days, how they went. She tells me about that one kid that she just can't seem to reach no matter how hard she tries. I tell her about how I wish I could just fire my secretary, I like her less and less with each day that passes, but she is elderly and I can't bring myself to do it even though the office would surely cheer me on if I did.
She strokes my breast softly, running her fingertips over my nipple.
It isn't sexual, just...comforting.
We kiss. Once. Twice. Thrice.
She pulls me closer and I put my head into the crook of her neck. My place.
We are quiet and I think she is almost asleep and I say, "Promise something?"
She takes a breath. "Ok, what?" she asks.
"Promise me that when I die you will put my ashes around the magnolia tree and the rose bushes," I say, trying to keep my voice from catching.
"MARIA!" she says, not as softly. "You aren't going anywhere. You are staying right here with me forever. We will die in each other's arms. Let's make a deal right now. Pinky swear?"
I am quiet.
I finally say, "We should know these things about each other, yes? Like, if you die first where should I put your ashes?"
She sighs. Strokes my hair, takes a hank of it and kisses it.
"Somewhere in water," she finally says, after I wondered if she had fallen asleep. "I want to be somewhere in water. How about Lake Pontchartrain?"
I agree to this and we kiss some more. It is getting late and we both are sleepy.
I turn on my side and she spoons me like she always does. We will fall asleep this way but when I wake up at 3:14 a.m. (every night like clockwork) she will be facing away from me.
It is good to have this settled between us. Good to know that she will take care of me and I will take care of her.
I confess that I am not a snuggler, in general. But some rainy nights are made for cuddling up and whispering softly and last night was perfect for that.
I know every inch of her.
I know that her breath will smell like Crest toothpaste when she comes to bed. She knows that my face will be slathered with La Mer.
We talk softly about our days, how they went. She tells me about that one kid that she just can't seem to reach no matter how hard she tries. I tell her about how I wish I could just fire my secretary, I like her less and less with each day that passes, but she is elderly and I can't bring myself to do it even though the office would surely cheer me on if I did.
She strokes my breast softly, running her fingertips over my nipple.
It isn't sexual, just...comforting.
We kiss. Once. Twice. Thrice.
She pulls me closer and I put my head into the crook of her neck. My place.
We are quiet and I think she is almost asleep and I say, "Promise something?"
She takes a breath. "Ok, what?" she asks.
"Promise me that when I die you will put my ashes around the magnolia tree and the rose bushes," I say, trying to keep my voice from catching.
"MARIA!" she says, not as softly. "You aren't going anywhere. You are staying right here with me forever. We will die in each other's arms. Let's make a deal right now. Pinky swear?"
I am quiet.
I finally say, "We should know these things about each other, yes? Like, if you die first where should I put your ashes?"
She sighs. Strokes my hair, takes a hank of it and kisses it.
"Somewhere in water," she finally says, after I wondered if she had fallen asleep. "I want to be somewhere in water. How about Lake Pontchartrain?"
I agree to this and we kiss some more. It is getting late and we both are sleepy.
I turn on my side and she spoons me like she always does. We will fall asleep this way but when I wake up at 3:14 a.m. (every night like clockwork) she will be facing away from me.
It is good to have this settled between us. Good to know that she will take care of me and I will take care of her.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Going to see The Harlem Globetrotters with Jacqueline Kennedy's twin.
God, I am just glad that Bing has finished her taxes. She procrastinates every year, not because she is lazy, but because she says she HATES giving the government a dime before she has to. But, it is always the same every year. She sits down to do taxes the day before they are due (she always has her paperwork done, just needs to do the process) and is fucking-cranky-annoyed-irritated-beyond-words-look-at-me-the-wrong-way-and-I-will-snap-at-you mean tempered.
Last night, she crawled into bed at 1:30 and woke me up by kissing me exuberantly.
I FINISHED MY DAMN TAXES!
Glory hallelujah.
It's been a busy weekend.
Liv has a new bff. Her name is Jackie and she attends the same Montessori school that Liv does. They have been acquaintances since kindergarten, but not really good friends. But, Liv's recent bff, Constance has recently joined the girls with Bieber fever and sports Jonas Brothers tee shirts now, so she and Liv have drifted apart. I think this started when Constance began having crushes on every boy in their class. Liv began spending time with Jackie and now they are inseparable.
I'm still on the fence about Jackie, frankly. She is a tiny girl, makes Liv look almost hulkish and gangly standing next to her. Liv IS tall, but she is rail thin, or at least I thought she was. Jackie looks like the waif from Les Miserables. She has porcelain skin, so transparent that it looks almost translucent at times. Her long golden hair goes to her waist and like Liv, she favors wearing it in a braid down her back. She is a full head and a half shorter than Liv and has small, delicate features with wrists and ankles so painfully sharp and thin that you just want to feed her cake. Or bread. Anything with carbs.
But, that girl can eat five pieces of pizza in one sitting. I have seen her do it. And she is good for Liv, intellectually. She is every bit as smart as Liv in math and I think this gives my daughter pause. Liv is used to practically looking like a math genius compared to her old bff, Constance. Jackie is a voracious reader too and she and Liv trade books back and forth a lot. The only thing that Liv is better at than Jackie is sports and that is not because the child is uncoordinated, she isn't...she is just so tiny that Liv can easily take two steps to her one.
What I am having trouble with is that I sense a little bit of a mean girl streak in Jackie. Nothing major, but it rears it's head sometimes when Jackie and Liv are talking about other girls in their class. Jackie is a shrewd observer and picks up things that Liv misses, that this girl is awfully huggy or that girl isn't very good at spelling. Time will tell if she is capable of using these observations in a mean girl way. I have a sneaking suspicion that their friendship may die out next year when they both go to different junior highs. Liv has settled on St. John Paul's, a catholic school with a killer science lab that is just a few blocks away from Montessori. Jackie is planning on going to St. Margaret Mary's, a catholic school with a waiting list that Liv is not on but she has been on for several years. Liv and I toured it when we were looking at schools, but Liv wasn't impressed and neither was I. So we never put her down on the waiting list.
Once it became clear that Liv was becoming fast friends with Jackie, Bing and I made an effort to get to know her parents. We had seen them at school meetings and plays, etc. but never bothered to get to know them.
I was a little put off by Jackie's mother, Carolyn. I knew that she was a stay-at-home mom and that I had never seen her looking less than fabulous. She wore designer clothes mostly and even when she wore casual jeans, she looked flawless, her hair in a perfect bob, her makeup minimal, but perfect. She never spoke much at school functions and her husband was rarely with her. I had heard that he worked for homeland security, so he was often away traveling.
Carolyn reminds me a little of Jacqueline Kennedy. She has that put-together-perfectly look and is friendly, but not overly so. She is good at small talk and we have exchanged several pleasantries about the weather, about how we both like driving small cars and how we enjoy our Dundee neighborhood. They live four blocks from us.
Once, Carolyn actually wore a pill box hat at a spring mother's luncheon and I had taken one look at her, secretly taken her photo with my cell phone and sent it to Bing with the caption, "God, I am sitting here snickering." I confess that I was actually snickering, but only on the inside.
But if our daughters were going to be friends, I needed to make an effort. Carolyn and I started small, smiling as we watched our daughters leaning together at the science fair, both in their goggles and white coats, demonstrating how to make a volcano erupt. When I picked up Liv after school in the afternoons, I made an effort to get there early so that I could have time to visit with Carolyn. When our daughters started wanting sleepovers, I invited Carolyn in when she dropped Jackie off and when she confessed that she loved old houses, I gave her a tour of our home. She and I sat down and shared a pot of coffee while the girls took Socks for a walk.
She complimented my home and said that I would have to come over soon for coffee as she wanted to show me her bathroom and ask if I knew any good decorators as she loved the "Victorian" feel of ours and wanted to duplicate it with hers. I laughed and confessed that the toilet (so old that it actually has a box over the toilet with a chain that is pulled to flush) is old and a water waster. I told her that "my partner" always said that we could flush a cat down there and it would not be a problem.
When I said "my partner", I watched her carefully. I figured she knew that Liv had two mothers (Montessori is a tiny school) but I wanted to see her face. This is something that you heteros never have to worry about when your child brings home a play date or wants a sleepover. But, her face was impassive as always.
We talked a bit over coffee and when Carolyn left, I felt like I knew her a little better, not well...but enough.
And then Bing heard that The Harlem Globetrotters were coming to town. She wanted to take Liv and I thought it sounded fun. We told Liv that she could pick a friend to bring and of course, she chose Jackie. I called Carolyn to see if Jackie could go with us.
She stunned me by asking if she could go too.
"I saw them as a child," she said. "And I have always wanted to see them again. How wonderful that we can take our daughters! How about if you pick us up for the pre-game show and afterwards maybe you can drop me home since Jackie says that she has been invited to spend the night with you?"
A whole night with Jacqueline Kennedy's twin. Who would have figured that she would be a Globetrotters fan?
I said sure.
When I told Bing that she needed to buy five tickets instead of four, she chuckled. "Isn't she the one who wore that pill box hat to the mother's luncheon?" she asked.
Yes. This could be interesting.
And it was.
We picked them up before the game. Jackie came trotting out with her overnight backpack and several movies for the girls to watch. She also proudly held up a ten dollar bill.
"Mom made me clean our car so that I could earn money to buy my own treats at the show," she said.
Carolyn came out, dressed beautifully, as always. She wore softly tailored Gucci jeans paired with a Fendi bag and a pair of Jimmy Choo leather ankle boots. Her sunglasses were Christian Dior. Her glossy chestnut brown hair was held back tastefully with a silver clip. She looked like she had just stepped out of Vogue.
I looked down at my levi jeans and sneakers and sighed. My hair was held back with a clip too but somehow my hair looked much less coiffed than hers. I had remembered to wear blush and lipstick but I was pretty sure that maybe I had lipstick on my teeth. It sure felt like it. I suddenly remembered that I had a peeling forehead and nose from a sunburn caused by all that sitting outside in the sun at Liv's soccer games. I had forgotten to put moisturizer on it. So...yeah...not looking my best.
Bing and I watched her stride prettily to the car and she waggled her eyebrows at me.
"Well, honey," she whispered, "I think the boys are going to be asking her to dance first. Sorry, babe...."
I gave her a wry look. "Um, sweetie? Your tongue is hanging out and you're drooling..." I said, honey dripping from my voice. We both laughed.
Carolyn got in the car and we headed to the auditorium, making awkward small talk while the girls jabbered back and forth, excited. Once there, we walked in and as agreed, went to the concession stand to get pre-game burgers. Carolyn surprised me by ordering a hot dog with everything, extra relish and a beer. We all found a table and sat down to eat. We talked about how we had picked the junior highs for the girls and when I admitted that I had pretty much left it up to Liv for the final decision, Carolyn gave me a long look.
"I think it is interesting how you trust Liv with decisions," she said, thoughtfully. "I kind of wish we had done that with Jackie, but well...Fritz's family all went to St. Margaret Mary's, so she will too...."
After dinner, Bing and the girls went to go look at programs, tee-shirts, etc. while Carolyn and I headed to our seats. We sat down together and I glanced at my watch. Ugh. Another half hour to kill....
I started to say something at the same time that Carolyn did and we both stopped and told the other to go ahead and then laughed and both stopped. Finally, she said, "I'll go first. I just wanted to tell you that I have been a little nervous about spending the evening with you and Bing."
I sat silently. Waiting. Why was this? Because we are a couple?
No, it turned out. Carolyn went on. "I have a story for you. Once when I was volunteering on the playground when the girls were in first or second grade, they were all talking about things that scared their parents and of course, Jackie just had to bring up that I am terrified of mice. And then the other girls piped up and finally it was Liv's turn and you know what she said?"
I shook my head. I could think of LOTS of things she could have said. I truly hoped that she hadn't mentioned my ridiculous fear of the way horses have such big heads or the way I just shiver with revulsion at the stink that lady bugs emit when you pick them up to throw them outside.
Carolyn smiled. "She said that her mother was not afraid of anything. That she was very brave and could fight a dragon even if he tried to come inside of the house. And I thought to myself, how wonderful to be the kind of person that is remembered that way by their child."
I was touched. But, I still wanted to know more. I asked her why she was worried about going to the game with Bing and me.
She went on, "Well, I suppose it is because you both intimidate me a little bit. Bing always looks so calm and so...so...dependable. I bet that she can be depended on not to forget to bring cough syrup home when Liv is sick. And you? God...you scared me too. You always come breezing in just in the nick of time to every meeting, school function and you wear those nice business suits. You have a job and are productive, I will bet that much. Plus, you never blush when called upon. If you have something to say, you just say it and you have a killer stare. I remember once when some silly parent said that he thought the paper tablecloths in the cafeteria for some function looked gay and you stood there and stared at him until he was sputtering like a little girl. It was WONDERFUL. And one time...well...I don't know WHAT got into me, but I wanted to look stylish or some other vanity and so I wore this insipid little pill box hat to that mother's luncheon and all the mothers were tittering and talking behind their hands. I felt so...so...foolish. So vain. Here, I just wanted to make friends so badly and I handled it so idiotically. I thought to myself, "Now, Maria, she would never be so silly as to walk in wearing a pill box hat and if she did, she would end up doing it with such panache that everyone would be wearing them at the next function...You remind me of Helena Bonham Carter or Juliette Binoche. The kind of person who doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks. So...yes...okay...I was nervous. And now I feel like a dimwit for going on and on like this..."
She looked away, smiling and then looked back at me.
I must have looked shocked because she laughed. And then I laughed too. I told her that I was nervous about being with her too for almost the same reasons.
"You remind me of Jacqueline Kennedy," I told her. "You are so sophisticated looking, so absolutely chic. Like Audrey Hepburn. I feel like Britney Spears around you! Like I look like I should be coming out of my trailer while you step daintily out of Cinderella's pumpkin! And your diction is so, so....distinct and perfect!"
She snickered in a nice way.
"God, my mother would be THRILLED to hear you say that," she said. "She used to rap me on the knuckles every single time I used a contraction. I learned never to say can't or couldn't or wouldn't. It had to be can not, could not, would not...."
After that, it was easy.
We found out what many women find out once they peel back the onion layers. That we were just two females who had a lot in common and could find much to talk about. Bing and the girls came back, loaded down with programs and lanyards. Bing looked quizzically at me when she saw Carolyn and I deep in conversation about our gardens.
The rest of the evening was so much fun. The girls were both picked out of the audience to go on court and play games with the globetrotters. Both got autographs from all the players, even Big Easy, the player from one of our favorite shows: The Amazing Race. Carolyn laughed just as hard as anyone when the globetrotters made a fart joke. We all stood and did YMCA with the globetrotters and clapped in time to Thriller.
Afterward, as we walked to the car, Carolyn and I leaned together talking about when to plant squash and pumpkins, what kind of stakes work best on tomato plants and why we favored big boys over roma tomatoes.
I'd just added Jacqueline Kennedy to my friend roster. As we drove past the Dundee Theater on our way home, Carolyn noted that she was dying to see the movie playing this weekend. Spontaneously, we agreed to all go together on Sunday.
And we did. It was wonderful. Go see it:
http://youtu.be/nbe33D59euY
Win Win
It was a good weekend and I learned something.
Even the Jacqueline Kennedys of the world can be in my tribe.
Last night, she crawled into bed at 1:30 and woke me up by kissing me exuberantly.
I FINISHED MY DAMN TAXES!
Glory hallelujah.
It's been a busy weekend.
Liv has a new bff. Her name is Jackie and she attends the same Montessori school that Liv does. They have been acquaintances since kindergarten, but not really good friends. But, Liv's recent bff, Constance has recently joined the girls with Bieber fever and sports Jonas Brothers tee shirts now, so she and Liv have drifted apart. I think this started when Constance began having crushes on every boy in their class. Liv began spending time with Jackie and now they are inseparable.
I'm still on the fence about Jackie, frankly. She is a tiny girl, makes Liv look almost hulkish and gangly standing next to her. Liv IS tall, but she is rail thin, or at least I thought she was. Jackie looks like the waif from Les Miserables. She has porcelain skin, so transparent that it looks almost translucent at times. Her long golden hair goes to her waist and like Liv, she favors wearing it in a braid down her back. She is a full head and a half shorter than Liv and has small, delicate features with wrists and ankles so painfully sharp and thin that you just want to feed her cake. Or bread. Anything with carbs.
But, that girl can eat five pieces of pizza in one sitting. I have seen her do it. And she is good for Liv, intellectually. She is every bit as smart as Liv in math and I think this gives my daughter pause. Liv is used to practically looking like a math genius compared to her old bff, Constance. Jackie is a voracious reader too and she and Liv trade books back and forth a lot. The only thing that Liv is better at than Jackie is sports and that is not because the child is uncoordinated, she isn't...she is just so tiny that Liv can easily take two steps to her one.
What I am having trouble with is that I sense a little bit of a mean girl streak in Jackie. Nothing major, but it rears it's head sometimes when Jackie and Liv are talking about other girls in their class. Jackie is a shrewd observer and picks up things that Liv misses, that this girl is awfully huggy or that girl isn't very good at spelling. Time will tell if she is capable of using these observations in a mean girl way. I have a sneaking suspicion that their friendship may die out next year when they both go to different junior highs. Liv has settled on St. John Paul's, a catholic school with a killer science lab that is just a few blocks away from Montessori. Jackie is planning on going to St. Margaret Mary's, a catholic school with a waiting list that Liv is not on but she has been on for several years. Liv and I toured it when we were looking at schools, but Liv wasn't impressed and neither was I. So we never put her down on the waiting list.
Once it became clear that Liv was becoming fast friends with Jackie, Bing and I made an effort to get to know her parents. We had seen them at school meetings and plays, etc. but never bothered to get to know them.
I was a little put off by Jackie's mother, Carolyn. I knew that she was a stay-at-home mom and that I had never seen her looking less than fabulous. She wore designer clothes mostly and even when she wore casual jeans, she looked flawless, her hair in a perfect bob, her makeup minimal, but perfect. She never spoke much at school functions and her husband was rarely with her. I had heard that he worked for homeland security, so he was often away traveling.
Carolyn reminds me a little of Jacqueline Kennedy. She has that put-together-perfectly look and is friendly, but not overly so. She is good at small talk and we have exchanged several pleasantries about the weather, about how we both like driving small cars and how we enjoy our Dundee neighborhood. They live four blocks from us.
Once, Carolyn actually wore a pill box hat at a spring mother's luncheon and I had taken one look at her, secretly taken her photo with my cell phone and sent it to Bing with the caption, "God, I am sitting here snickering." I confess that I was actually snickering, but only on the inside.
But if our daughters were going to be friends, I needed to make an effort. Carolyn and I started small, smiling as we watched our daughters leaning together at the science fair, both in their goggles and white coats, demonstrating how to make a volcano erupt. When I picked up Liv after school in the afternoons, I made an effort to get there early so that I could have time to visit with Carolyn. When our daughters started wanting sleepovers, I invited Carolyn in when she dropped Jackie off and when she confessed that she loved old houses, I gave her a tour of our home. She and I sat down and shared a pot of coffee while the girls took Socks for a walk.
She complimented my home and said that I would have to come over soon for coffee as she wanted to show me her bathroom and ask if I knew any good decorators as she loved the "Victorian" feel of ours and wanted to duplicate it with hers. I laughed and confessed that the toilet (so old that it actually has a box over the toilet with a chain that is pulled to flush) is old and a water waster. I told her that "my partner" always said that we could flush a cat down there and it would not be a problem.
When I said "my partner", I watched her carefully. I figured she knew that Liv had two mothers (Montessori is a tiny school) but I wanted to see her face. This is something that you heteros never have to worry about when your child brings home a play date or wants a sleepover. But, her face was impassive as always.
We talked a bit over coffee and when Carolyn left, I felt like I knew her a little better, not well...but enough.
And then Bing heard that The Harlem Globetrotters were coming to town. She wanted to take Liv and I thought it sounded fun. We told Liv that she could pick a friend to bring and of course, she chose Jackie. I called Carolyn to see if Jackie could go with us.
She stunned me by asking if she could go too.
"I saw them as a child," she said. "And I have always wanted to see them again. How wonderful that we can take our daughters! How about if you pick us up for the pre-game show and afterwards maybe you can drop me home since Jackie says that she has been invited to spend the night with you?"
A whole night with Jacqueline Kennedy's twin. Who would have figured that she would be a Globetrotters fan?
I said sure.
When I told Bing that she needed to buy five tickets instead of four, she chuckled. "Isn't she the one who wore that pill box hat to the mother's luncheon?" she asked.
Yes. This could be interesting.
And it was.
We picked them up before the game. Jackie came trotting out with her overnight backpack and several movies for the girls to watch. She also proudly held up a ten dollar bill.
"Mom made me clean our car so that I could earn money to buy my own treats at the show," she said.
Carolyn came out, dressed beautifully, as always. She wore softly tailored Gucci jeans paired with a Fendi bag and a pair of Jimmy Choo leather ankle boots. Her sunglasses were Christian Dior. Her glossy chestnut brown hair was held back tastefully with a silver clip. She looked like she had just stepped out of Vogue.
I looked down at my levi jeans and sneakers and sighed. My hair was held back with a clip too but somehow my hair looked much less coiffed than hers. I had remembered to wear blush and lipstick but I was pretty sure that maybe I had lipstick on my teeth. It sure felt like it. I suddenly remembered that I had a peeling forehead and nose from a sunburn caused by all that sitting outside in the sun at Liv's soccer games. I had forgotten to put moisturizer on it. So...yeah...not looking my best.
Bing and I watched her stride prettily to the car and she waggled her eyebrows at me.
"Well, honey," she whispered, "I think the boys are going to be asking her to dance first. Sorry, babe...."
I gave her a wry look. "Um, sweetie? Your tongue is hanging out and you're drooling..." I said, honey dripping from my voice. We both laughed.
Carolyn got in the car and we headed to the auditorium, making awkward small talk while the girls jabbered back and forth, excited. Once there, we walked in and as agreed, went to the concession stand to get pre-game burgers. Carolyn surprised me by ordering a hot dog with everything, extra relish and a beer. We all found a table and sat down to eat. We talked about how we had picked the junior highs for the girls and when I admitted that I had pretty much left it up to Liv for the final decision, Carolyn gave me a long look.
"I think it is interesting how you trust Liv with decisions," she said, thoughtfully. "I kind of wish we had done that with Jackie, but well...Fritz's family all went to St. Margaret Mary's, so she will too...."
After dinner, Bing and the girls went to go look at programs, tee-shirts, etc. while Carolyn and I headed to our seats. We sat down together and I glanced at my watch. Ugh. Another half hour to kill....
I started to say something at the same time that Carolyn did and we both stopped and told the other to go ahead and then laughed and both stopped. Finally, she said, "I'll go first. I just wanted to tell you that I have been a little nervous about spending the evening with you and Bing."
I sat silently. Waiting. Why was this? Because we are a couple?
No, it turned out. Carolyn went on. "I have a story for you. Once when I was volunteering on the playground when the girls were in first or second grade, they were all talking about things that scared their parents and of course, Jackie just had to bring up that I am terrified of mice. And then the other girls piped up and finally it was Liv's turn and you know what she said?"
I shook my head. I could think of LOTS of things she could have said. I truly hoped that she hadn't mentioned my ridiculous fear of the way horses have such big heads or the way I just shiver with revulsion at the stink that lady bugs emit when you pick them up to throw them outside.
Carolyn smiled. "She said that her mother was not afraid of anything. That she was very brave and could fight a dragon even if he tried to come inside of the house. And I thought to myself, how wonderful to be the kind of person that is remembered that way by their child."
I was touched. But, I still wanted to know more. I asked her why she was worried about going to the game with Bing and me.
She went on, "Well, I suppose it is because you both intimidate me a little bit. Bing always looks so calm and so...so...dependable. I bet that she can be depended on not to forget to bring cough syrup home when Liv is sick. And you? God...you scared me too. You always come breezing in just in the nick of time to every meeting, school function and you wear those nice business suits. You have a job and are productive, I will bet that much. Plus, you never blush when called upon. If you have something to say, you just say it and you have a killer stare. I remember once when some silly parent said that he thought the paper tablecloths in the cafeteria for some function looked gay and you stood there and stared at him until he was sputtering like a little girl. It was WONDERFUL. And one time...well...I don't know WHAT got into me, but I wanted to look stylish or some other vanity and so I wore this insipid little pill box hat to that mother's luncheon and all the mothers were tittering and talking behind their hands. I felt so...so...foolish. So vain. Here, I just wanted to make friends so badly and I handled it so idiotically. I thought to myself, "Now, Maria, she would never be so silly as to walk in wearing a pill box hat and if she did, she would end up doing it with such panache that everyone would be wearing them at the next function...You remind me of Helena Bonham Carter or Juliette Binoche. The kind of person who doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks. So...yes...okay...I was nervous. And now I feel like a dimwit for going on and on like this..."
She looked away, smiling and then looked back at me.
I must have looked shocked because she laughed. And then I laughed too. I told her that I was nervous about being with her too for almost the same reasons.
"You remind me of Jacqueline Kennedy," I told her. "You are so sophisticated looking, so absolutely chic. Like Audrey Hepburn. I feel like Britney Spears around you! Like I look like I should be coming out of my trailer while you step daintily out of Cinderella's pumpkin! And your diction is so, so....distinct and perfect!"
She snickered in a nice way.
"God, my mother would be THRILLED to hear you say that," she said. "She used to rap me on the knuckles every single time I used a contraction. I learned never to say can't or couldn't or wouldn't. It had to be can not, could not, would not...."
After that, it was easy.
We found out what many women find out once they peel back the onion layers. That we were just two females who had a lot in common and could find much to talk about. Bing and the girls came back, loaded down with programs and lanyards. Bing looked quizzically at me when she saw Carolyn and I deep in conversation about our gardens.
The rest of the evening was so much fun. The girls were both picked out of the audience to go on court and play games with the globetrotters. Both got autographs from all the players, even Big Easy, the player from one of our favorite shows: The Amazing Race. Carolyn laughed just as hard as anyone when the globetrotters made a fart joke. We all stood and did YMCA with the globetrotters and clapped in time to Thriller.
Afterward, as we walked to the car, Carolyn and I leaned together talking about when to plant squash and pumpkins, what kind of stakes work best on tomato plants and why we favored big boys over roma tomatoes.
I'd just added Jacqueline Kennedy to my friend roster. As we drove past the Dundee Theater on our way home, Carolyn noted that she was dying to see the movie playing this weekend. Spontaneously, we agreed to all go together on Sunday.
And we did. It was wonderful. Go see it:
http://youtu.be/nbe33D59euY
Win Win
It was a good weekend and I learned something.
Even the Jacqueline Kennedys of the world can be in my tribe.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
watchful waiting
I am an expert at this.
Just part of my life.
A few years ago, I was diagnosed with chronic leukemia. I was shocked after my diagnosis and mainly just pissed off. I mean, for pete's sake, didn't I have plenty on my plate already? My health was never something I thought much about when I was in my 20's...well...except for type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed at age 5, so it had been with me most of my life. But once I hit my 30's, I seemed to get hit with health issues right and left.
I was diagnosed with Meniere's Syndrome when I was 33. This is an inner ear disorder. It took a LONG time for me to actually get tested and treated for this since frankly, I was a frequent drinker and drug user and since one of the first symptoms of this disorder is dizziness...well...I figured that I was just having a really bad few days. Once I was diagnosed, it took a couple of months to get through a day without hanging on to a wall when I walked. Now, it comes and goes and through balance therapy, I have learned to live with it. I blame Meniere's for making me give up most of my high heel wearing. Can't wear heels when you are in danger of losing your balance at any time. I still do wear heels sometimes, but that is just because I am stubborn.
When I was 35, I discovered that my stomach was riddled with ulcers. Apparently, I was under more stress than I thought I was and was doing something that we health care professionals refer to as internalizing my pain. I changed my diet and learned, through biofeedback to channel my stress out of me inside of inward.
Before Liv was born, I noticed that I was having symptoms of arthritis. My joints often ached, especially when it was going to rain or snow. I was disgruntled about this, mainly because I was only 40 years old. I mean, C'MON...that was only supposed to happen to old people, not women like me who still lived an active lifestyle.
After Liv was born, everything became worse fast. I would frequently awaken in the morning with my fingers clawed. My knees, ankles and shoulders would ache horribly before a rain storm or a blizzard. I was the perfect weather forecaster. When Liv was 4, I woke up one morning with my knee swollen up to the size of a grapefruit. Nothing helped and the pain was excruciating, so I went in to my md who sent me to a specialist. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I quickly learned that every joint in my body was capable of betraying me, especially my knees, fingers and toes. I learned to live with it, but crankily. I hated using a cane sometimes. Hated laying on the sofa with a heating pad, alternating with a cold pack. But, not much to be done about it.
I've had migraines since I was 10. They run in my family. My Da had them, his mother had them. 2 of my 3 sisters have them. I get one about once a month. One of my fervent hopes is that I didn't hand this down to Liv.
I've always had TERRIBLE teeth. BOTH of my parents had dentures by the time they were 30. I have had seven, count 'em, SEVEN root canals. And I am a diligent flosser and tooth brusher. I gargle with a special rinse. Bing has never had a cavity, not one. And she is a sloppy tooth brusher. This irks the hell out of me.
So, when I was diagnosed with chronic leukemia, I was pretty damn pissy about it.
Bing, being Bing, tried to comfort me by telling me that hey, it could be worse! I could be in a wheel chair! I could have a cancer that spread fast and viciously. I think that I may have thrown something at her when she said that. I needed her to hug me and tell me she was so, so sorry for me...NOT give me a motivational speech. But, that is just her, you know? She is a problem solver, not a consoler. When I tell her that I have had a bad day, she takes the same tack...she will pick apart what I am saying and suggest that maybe if I had said this or done that maybe my day wouldn't have gone so badly.
I usually just sigh and keep things to myself now. I don't think she will ever get it, you know? That sometimes I just need a freakin' hug, damnit.
I had the choice of going on cancer drugs when I was diagnosed but after some thought, I decided to do what is referred to as watchful waiting. My doctor concurred with me. Bing did not. She wanted to attack those suckers and take them out of me pronto.
It has been over two years and everything is still okay. Check ups fine. I was diagnosed with pre-lupus a year ago. I was told to expect this. That often when one has an immune disorder, like rheumatoid arthritis, other immune disorders show up at the door and want admittance. I elected to do watchful waiting with that as well.
So, far...so good.
But, yes..I am cognizant of many things. I wonder if I will be able to see my daughter graduate from college, get that advanced degree. If she marries, will I dance at her wedding? Get to see any grandchildren?
Being a watchful waiter had put me in the position of having to discuss the future in a way that is uncomfortable for me sometimes. I have had to think about what I want to happen with Liv if I am not around to care for her. I have had to have the painful discussion with Bing of telling her that I think it would be best if Liv went to live with her father if something happened to me. I have had to talk to Tinton (Liv's father) about that possibility too. He, of course, rose to the occasion manfully and said that of course Liv would come to live with him, that he would have it no other way. I decided then and there that it would be my mission to make sure that Liv had the opportunity to know her father well so that there would be no horrible transition for her, I wanted her to feel safe and sure with him. I think that I have done that pretty well. And Bing, too, was able to find peace with my decision. She wasn't thrilled with it, but she understood and more importantly, supported me.
Watchful waiting has changed my life in so many ways. I think I see things more clearly, feel them more deeply. Seasons are almost painfully gorgeous to me (well...ok....not winter...no matter WHAT I will NEVER embrace snow.) I have a stack of books in my bookcase that I have vowed to read sooner rather than later.
And I have come to see watchful waiting as a gift rather than a noose. This was brought home to me last week.
I don't usually talk about my clients on this blog. I try to respect their privacy even in anonymity. But, I will make an exception in one case.
I was seeing Jon to treat his autism. He was six and already had more on his plate than I did by a long shot. He was born with a club foot, a cleft palate and a bad heart. By the time he came to me for diagnosis and treatment, he had already had seven heart surgeries. His mother, a single mom, was a force to be reckoned with. She had fought to get him the best treatment throughout his life and was his champion at every level. She came to his sessions with him, learned everything she could about autism and how to work with him. The first time he allowed her to hug him, she called me on my cell phone, crying. I cried too. Privately. In my bathtub that night. I was the consummate professional on the phone with her. Now, I wish that I had let myself cry with her.
And then, well over a year ago, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia or ACL. His disease would not bear watching. It had to be acted on NOW. That child endured a bone marrow biopsy, cytogenetics, and a spinal tap. He was treated, hospitalized over and over again.
He died over a year ago ago. I went to his wake, his funeral. It was small and very private. I think that maybe there were about ten of us there, mostly medical people. His mother had been kicked out of her home when she became pregnant at 17, so there was no family there.
I ran into her in the grocery store a few days ago. She and I were both tapping melons when we looked up and had that moment of not knowing someone out of context. But, then we both smiled and embraced. I asked her how she was doing and she smiled hugely and said, "Remember how I told you that I was going to put Jon's ashes around some tulip bulbs in the fall?" I nodded yes.
"Well," she said, "Do you have time to follow me home just for a second? I want to show you something. I live nearby."
I followed her home.
She took me out to the backyard of her apartment building. She pointed to the ground. Some small green shoots were peeping out of the ground.
"Jon's tulips are coming up," she said.
We stood looking down, smiling. I left soon after, making her promise to call me when the tulips were fully up.
I will never complain about watchful waiting again.
We all have our burdens. Some, like Sven, have the burden of addiction. Some, like my brother in law, have the burden of a small mind. Some, like me, have the burden of watchful waiting.
But, we are all in this together, even idiotic women who act oddly in bathrooms or elevators, even that woman in your book club who always has to monopolize the conversation or that mincing guy in the silk suit who cuts in front of you in line.
"Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." T.H. Thompson.
Reaching out my hand for yours....can you feel it?
Just part of my life.
A few years ago, I was diagnosed with chronic leukemia. I was shocked after my diagnosis and mainly just pissed off. I mean, for pete's sake, didn't I have plenty on my plate already? My health was never something I thought much about when I was in my 20's...well...except for type 1 diabetes. I was diagnosed at age 5, so it had been with me most of my life. But once I hit my 30's, I seemed to get hit with health issues right and left.
I was diagnosed with Meniere's Syndrome when I was 33. This is an inner ear disorder. It took a LONG time for me to actually get tested and treated for this since frankly, I was a frequent drinker and drug user and since one of the first symptoms of this disorder is dizziness...well...I figured that I was just having a really bad few days. Once I was diagnosed, it took a couple of months to get through a day without hanging on to a wall when I walked. Now, it comes and goes and through balance therapy, I have learned to live with it. I blame Meniere's for making me give up most of my high heel wearing. Can't wear heels when you are in danger of losing your balance at any time. I still do wear heels sometimes, but that is just because I am stubborn.
When I was 35, I discovered that my stomach was riddled with ulcers. Apparently, I was under more stress than I thought I was and was doing something that we health care professionals refer to as internalizing my pain. I changed my diet and learned, through biofeedback to channel my stress out of me inside of inward.
Before Liv was born, I noticed that I was having symptoms of arthritis. My joints often ached, especially when it was going to rain or snow. I was disgruntled about this, mainly because I was only 40 years old. I mean, C'MON...that was only supposed to happen to old people, not women like me who still lived an active lifestyle.
After Liv was born, everything became worse fast. I would frequently awaken in the morning with my fingers clawed. My knees, ankles and shoulders would ache horribly before a rain storm or a blizzard. I was the perfect weather forecaster. When Liv was 4, I woke up one morning with my knee swollen up to the size of a grapefruit. Nothing helped and the pain was excruciating, so I went in to my md who sent me to a specialist. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. I quickly learned that every joint in my body was capable of betraying me, especially my knees, fingers and toes. I learned to live with it, but crankily. I hated using a cane sometimes. Hated laying on the sofa with a heating pad, alternating with a cold pack. But, not much to be done about it.
I've had migraines since I was 10. They run in my family. My Da had them, his mother had them. 2 of my 3 sisters have them. I get one about once a month. One of my fervent hopes is that I didn't hand this down to Liv.
I've always had TERRIBLE teeth. BOTH of my parents had dentures by the time they were 30. I have had seven, count 'em, SEVEN root canals. And I am a diligent flosser and tooth brusher. I gargle with a special rinse. Bing has never had a cavity, not one. And she is a sloppy tooth brusher. This irks the hell out of me.
So, when I was diagnosed with chronic leukemia, I was pretty damn pissy about it.
Bing, being Bing, tried to comfort me by telling me that hey, it could be worse! I could be in a wheel chair! I could have a cancer that spread fast and viciously. I think that I may have thrown something at her when she said that. I needed her to hug me and tell me she was so, so sorry for me...NOT give me a motivational speech. But, that is just her, you know? She is a problem solver, not a consoler. When I tell her that I have had a bad day, she takes the same tack...she will pick apart what I am saying and suggest that maybe if I had said this or done that maybe my day wouldn't have gone so badly.
I usually just sigh and keep things to myself now. I don't think she will ever get it, you know? That sometimes I just need a freakin' hug, damnit.
I had the choice of going on cancer drugs when I was diagnosed but after some thought, I decided to do what is referred to as watchful waiting. My doctor concurred with me. Bing did not. She wanted to attack those suckers and take them out of me pronto.
It has been over two years and everything is still okay. Check ups fine. I was diagnosed with pre-lupus a year ago. I was told to expect this. That often when one has an immune disorder, like rheumatoid arthritis, other immune disorders show up at the door and want admittance. I elected to do watchful waiting with that as well.
So, far...so good.
But, yes..I am cognizant of many things. I wonder if I will be able to see my daughter graduate from college, get that advanced degree. If she marries, will I dance at her wedding? Get to see any grandchildren?
Being a watchful waiter had put me in the position of having to discuss the future in a way that is uncomfortable for me sometimes. I have had to think about what I want to happen with Liv if I am not around to care for her. I have had to have the painful discussion with Bing of telling her that I think it would be best if Liv went to live with her father if something happened to me. I have had to talk to Tinton (Liv's father) about that possibility too. He, of course, rose to the occasion manfully and said that of course Liv would come to live with him, that he would have it no other way. I decided then and there that it would be my mission to make sure that Liv had the opportunity to know her father well so that there would be no horrible transition for her, I wanted her to feel safe and sure with him. I think that I have done that pretty well. And Bing, too, was able to find peace with my decision. She wasn't thrilled with it, but she understood and more importantly, supported me.
Watchful waiting has changed my life in so many ways. I think I see things more clearly, feel them more deeply. Seasons are almost painfully gorgeous to me (well...ok....not winter...no matter WHAT I will NEVER embrace snow.) I have a stack of books in my bookcase that I have vowed to read sooner rather than later.
And I have come to see watchful waiting as a gift rather than a noose. This was brought home to me last week.
I don't usually talk about my clients on this blog. I try to respect their privacy even in anonymity. But, I will make an exception in one case.
I was seeing Jon to treat his autism. He was six and already had more on his plate than I did by a long shot. He was born with a club foot, a cleft palate and a bad heart. By the time he came to me for diagnosis and treatment, he had already had seven heart surgeries. His mother, a single mom, was a force to be reckoned with. She had fought to get him the best treatment throughout his life and was his champion at every level. She came to his sessions with him, learned everything she could about autism and how to work with him. The first time he allowed her to hug him, she called me on my cell phone, crying. I cried too. Privately. In my bathtub that night. I was the consummate professional on the phone with her. Now, I wish that I had let myself cry with her.
And then, well over a year ago, he was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia or ACL. His disease would not bear watching. It had to be acted on NOW. That child endured a bone marrow biopsy, cytogenetics, and a spinal tap. He was treated, hospitalized over and over again.
He died over a year ago ago. I went to his wake, his funeral. It was small and very private. I think that maybe there were about ten of us there, mostly medical people. His mother had been kicked out of her home when she became pregnant at 17, so there was no family there.
I ran into her in the grocery store a few days ago. She and I were both tapping melons when we looked up and had that moment of not knowing someone out of context. But, then we both smiled and embraced. I asked her how she was doing and she smiled hugely and said, "Remember how I told you that I was going to put Jon's ashes around some tulip bulbs in the fall?" I nodded yes.
"Well," she said, "Do you have time to follow me home just for a second? I want to show you something. I live nearby."
I followed her home.
She took me out to the backyard of her apartment building. She pointed to the ground. Some small green shoots were peeping out of the ground.
"Jon's tulips are coming up," she said.
We stood looking down, smiling. I left soon after, making her promise to call me when the tulips were fully up.
I will never complain about watchful waiting again.
We all have our burdens. Some, like Sven, have the burden of addiction. Some, like my brother in law, have the burden of a small mind. Some, like me, have the burden of watchful waiting.
But, we are all in this together, even idiotic women who act oddly in bathrooms or elevators, even that woman in your book club who always has to monopolize the conversation or that mincing guy in the silk suit who cuts in front of you in line.
"Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle." T.H. Thompson.
Reaching out my hand for yours....can you feel it?
Friday, April 15, 2011
Maybe you had to be there...
My computer time will be severely limited this weekend because Bing's laptop is in the shop and she has to do her taxes.
Yes. She is one of the million procrastinators who will be running around like a chicken with her head cut off this weekend.
And she does this EVERY year. Never learns, that girl.
Wanna hear something funny that happened to me at work today?
Of course you do.
I work in a huge building with 10 floors. Most of the building is devoted to medicine in some ways. The sleep clinic is on the first floor. I walk by every single morning and want to stop in for a nap.
Cafeteria is on the tenth floor. A few dentists on the 8th floor.
I work on the fourth floor.
We all have badges and a security guy actually checks our badges scrupulously every single morning even though his name is Fred and I say, "Mornin', Fred" every single morning and he says, "Mornin', Maria."
The fourth floor bathroom is directly across the hall from my office. Which is kind of nice. Convenient. There are ten stalls in said bathroom.
After lunch, I stopped in to pee before going back to work. I was the only one in there. I heard someone else come in but didn't think about it too hard. As I was rolling up some toilet paper to wipe off, I happened to look up and it was a good thing that my panties were already down because I would have peed my pants.
There was a large woman peering in through one of the cracks in the stall at me. I gave a sort of yelp and she...she....she...
LAUGHED and said, "Whoops! Sorry! I thought you were someone else. A friend of mine!"
I was too dumbfounded to speak, just finished up and stepped out. The bathroom peeper was washing her hands. I paused trying to think of something to say to her to explain that it is
MOTHER FUCKING RUDE to peep at another person while they are peeing. That is their PRIVATE ME TIME, dude.
Before I could speak, she went over to the cupboard under the sinks and pulled out a can of some industrial strength Lysol-like can that I suppose the janitor uses to sanitize the room when she is finished cleaning.
The woman picked up the can and began to walk to a stall. She said, "I am really going to need this afterwards!"
And then she looked cheerfully at me and smiled. Went into a stall.
I stood there stunned into silence. WAY too much information.
I mean, good lord...this whole scenario was just wrong on nearly every level.
I went back to my office and went into my co-worker's office. Her name is Julie and she works with the youngest of our children. Reba, our new office assistant was in there with her. I told both of them what happened.
And then Julia said, "God, who would even do that to a FRIEND? I mean, pee time is quiet-by-yourself time!"
Julia, Reba and I all started laughing.
You know how something is sort of funny but after you tell someone, it suddenly becomes almost unbearably funny? That happened to us. All three of us started laughing like loons. The kind of laughter where your mascara runs and you make silly little tee hee hee hee hee noises. Where you all sort of run down at the same time and then one will start all over and suddenly you are all laughing AGAIN.
That became our afternoon punch line. Every single time we passed each other in a hall, one of us would say, "Whoops! Sorry! I thought you were my friend!"
And we would chortle again.
I kept thinking that I had seen that woman in the bathroom somewhere but I couldn't put my finger on it.
And then I remembered and so, of course, I had to find Julie and Reba to tell them HOW I remembered her:
Back when we first moved into this building over a year ago, I was riding the elevator up and THAT SAME WOMAN got into the elevator too and then told me right out of the blue that her mother had recently died. Before I could say something consoling, she calmly looked at me and said, "I think she was about your size. Do you want to buy some of her clothes?"
I was befuddled then too. I stared at her for a long moment and then politely declined. But, inside I was thinking:
What a thing to say to a stranger in an elevator! And NO, I FUCKING WILL NOT BE BUYING YOUR DEAD MOTHER'S CLOTHES, LADY!"
When I told this to Julie and Reba, we all started giggling again. Not riot mode laughing like before, but chuckling.
God, WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH THIS WOMAN and does she have ANY social manners?
I mean, think about it? Would you say that to a STRANGER in an elevator? And how about the bathroom thing? What in fuck sakes would make anyone think that it was okay to peek in at someone peeing, EVEN IF YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE YOUR FRIEND? I mean, suppose it WAS your friend? What would you do then? Just stand there peeking at them and watch them pee and wipe off and then pull their pantyhose back up? What would you talk about? How your day was going?
So...you know how the story ends, don't you?
I went to the bathroom a few minutes before we closed up the office, like I always do. I like to have a pre-drive home pee. So, I am sitting there and suddenly I look up and yes...
Both Julie and Reba are on either side of the bathroom door, PEEKING in the slats.
"How's it goin', dude?"
I laughed so hard that even though I thought I was done, I managed to pee a bit more.
It is good to have friends in the office....
And WHAT WAS THAT WOMAN THINKING? WAS SHE RAISED IN A BARN?
Yes. She is one of the million procrastinators who will be running around like a chicken with her head cut off this weekend.
And she does this EVERY year. Never learns, that girl.
Wanna hear something funny that happened to me at work today?
Of course you do.
I work in a huge building with 10 floors. Most of the building is devoted to medicine in some ways. The sleep clinic is on the first floor. I walk by every single morning and want to stop in for a nap.
Cafeteria is on the tenth floor. A few dentists on the 8th floor.
I work on the fourth floor.
We all have badges and a security guy actually checks our badges scrupulously every single morning even though his name is Fred and I say, "Mornin', Fred" every single morning and he says, "Mornin', Maria."
The fourth floor bathroom is directly across the hall from my office. Which is kind of nice. Convenient. There are ten stalls in said bathroom.
After lunch, I stopped in to pee before going back to work. I was the only one in there. I heard someone else come in but didn't think about it too hard. As I was rolling up some toilet paper to wipe off, I happened to look up and it was a good thing that my panties were already down because I would have peed my pants.
There was a large woman peering in through one of the cracks in the stall at me. I gave a sort of yelp and she...she....she...
LAUGHED and said, "Whoops! Sorry! I thought you were someone else. A friend of mine!"
I was too dumbfounded to speak, just finished up and stepped out. The bathroom peeper was washing her hands. I paused trying to think of something to say to her to explain that it is
MOTHER FUCKING RUDE to peep at another person while they are peeing. That is their PRIVATE ME TIME, dude.
Before I could speak, she went over to the cupboard under the sinks and pulled out a can of some industrial strength Lysol-like can that I suppose the janitor uses to sanitize the room when she is finished cleaning.
The woman picked up the can and began to walk to a stall. She said, "I am really going to need this afterwards!"
And then she looked cheerfully at me and smiled. Went into a stall.
I stood there stunned into silence. WAY too much information.
I mean, good lord...this whole scenario was just wrong on nearly every level.
I went back to my office and went into my co-worker's office. Her name is Julie and she works with the youngest of our children. Reba, our new office assistant was in there with her. I told both of them what happened.
And then Julia said, "God, who would even do that to a FRIEND? I mean, pee time is quiet-by-yourself time!"
Julia, Reba and I all started laughing.
You know how something is sort of funny but after you tell someone, it suddenly becomes almost unbearably funny? That happened to us. All three of us started laughing like loons. The kind of laughter where your mascara runs and you make silly little tee hee hee hee hee noises. Where you all sort of run down at the same time and then one will start all over and suddenly you are all laughing AGAIN.
That became our afternoon punch line. Every single time we passed each other in a hall, one of us would say, "Whoops! Sorry! I thought you were my friend!"
And we would chortle again.
I kept thinking that I had seen that woman in the bathroom somewhere but I couldn't put my finger on it.
And then I remembered and so, of course, I had to find Julie and Reba to tell them HOW I remembered her:
Back when we first moved into this building over a year ago, I was riding the elevator up and THAT SAME WOMAN got into the elevator too and then told me right out of the blue that her mother had recently died. Before I could say something consoling, she calmly looked at me and said, "I think she was about your size. Do you want to buy some of her clothes?"
I was befuddled then too. I stared at her for a long moment and then politely declined. But, inside I was thinking:
What a thing to say to a stranger in an elevator! And NO, I FUCKING WILL NOT BE BUYING YOUR DEAD MOTHER'S CLOTHES, LADY!"
When I told this to Julie and Reba, we all started giggling again. Not riot mode laughing like before, but chuckling.
God, WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH THIS WOMAN and does she have ANY social manners?
I mean, think about it? Would you say that to a STRANGER in an elevator? And how about the bathroom thing? What in fuck sakes would make anyone think that it was okay to peek in at someone peeing, EVEN IF YOU THOUGHT THEY WERE YOUR FRIEND? I mean, suppose it WAS your friend? What would you do then? Just stand there peeking at them and watch them pee and wipe off and then pull their pantyhose back up? What would you talk about? How your day was going?
So...you know how the story ends, don't you?
I went to the bathroom a few minutes before we closed up the office, like I always do. I like to have a pre-drive home pee. So, I am sitting there and suddenly I look up and yes...
Both Julie and Reba are on either side of the bathroom door, PEEKING in the slats.
"How's it goin', dude?"
I laughed so hard that even though I thought I was done, I managed to pee a bit more.
It is good to have friends in the office....
And WHAT WAS THAT WOMAN THINKING? WAS SHE RAISED IN A BARN?
Sore loser.
Pissed off. Royally.
I can't believe they voted off MY guy.
Paul McDonald.
I just want to spank every last one of you.
Which is kind of hypocritical since I don't even vote.
But...GOOD HELL.
Why are Jacob and Stefano still around and Paul is not?
Any other American Idol lunatics out there?
I can't believe they voted off MY guy.
Paul McDonald.
I just want to spank every last one of you.
Which is kind of hypocritical since I don't even vote.
But...GOOD HELL.
Why are Jacob and Stefano still around and Paul is not?
Any other American Idol lunatics out there?
Monday, April 11, 2011
Sweet child of mine
His name is Sven (well, it is on this blog anyway...)
The day Liv and I moved into our house was the first day we met him. Liv was just learning to walk. Sven was 10. He came knocking on our door carrying a plate of brownies from his mother and hopefully asked if I had any kids. I wearily pointed to a very pissed off Liv, standing crankily in her playpen (baby jail is what I used to call it.)
I was not letting her out because she kept getting into everything. He walked over and offered her his finger.
"She'll do," he said.
She did. Sven became a fixture at our house. I had taken time away from working until Liv went to kindergarten, so I used to babysit Sven when he got home from school. When Sven got into high school, he returned the favor by babysitting Liv for me on nights when I wanted to go out. He and Liv became very close. He was her brother. He was the first person that she invited into her tree house when it was all fixed up to her approval. The fridge at his house contained her artwork for him. He would come over sometimes in the summer and hunt fireflies with her and swing her by her armpits around and around the yard. He was a huge football star in high school and Liv and I (and then Bing) went to every single one of his games. The day he left for a faraway college (on a football scholarship) was one of the hardest days for Liv. She wept as she hugged him goodbye in the driveway, waving bravely at him as he drove away. Then she came inside and went to her room and shut the door. Socks was the only one who could comfort her for hours.
Sven didn't like school much. His college was on the west coast and when he came home on holidays, he would shake his head and grin, talking about how strange the kids were in his college, how he just didn't fit in. His nickname was Corn Cob. His football career sizzled out his junior year when the son of a famous ex football legend enrolled in his school and the media went nuts. The son was after Sven's position on the team and he got, unfairly in Sven's eyes. He didn't believe that this kid was better than he was, but that the school needed the media attention. He had never excelled at his schoolwork, was barely squeaking by.
His mother, a single parent, worried. Sven began refusing to come home for holidays, saying that he needed to study. He started seeing a girl whom he brought home once. He brought her over to visit and all I can say is that I knew she was using the second I laid eyes on her.
Takes one to know one, I suppose.
I suspected he was using too. He seemed unfocused, bleary eyed. He was distant with all of us, even Liv. This hurt her deeply as she had never given up on him, sending him weekly pictures and letters even when he never wrote back or answered her texts. After he and his girlfriend went back to school, his mother came over to talk to me. She and I were never that close. She is a nurse and works the midnight shift now that Sven isn't home anymore. She is a very private person, very introverted, not unfriendly, but not friendly either. She and Sven were very close, though.
Well, Lyndsay (the mother) came over and sat on our back steps with me and wept into her hands. Bing ran to get her tissues. I ran to get her a glass of wine. She talked of how distant he was now, how disgruntled he was about football, how he was behaving strangely, asking her for more money (she was sending him a monthly allowance) and not returning her phone calls unless they were money related.
This was not our Sven.
Last summer, he didn't come home at all and Lyndsay admitted to me in August that she had talked him into going into a re-hab center. He had been kicked off the football team for not showing up for practices. So now, she had to come up with the money to pay his tuition for his senior year. She did that.
He went back to college, clean and sober. He stayed that way for exactly one month. And then the dodging of calls, etc. began all over again. The bad girlfriend was replaced with another just like her. In December, he was arrested after he was stopped for driving dangerously and drugs were found in his car. He was given an incredibly light sentence: he did no jail time but had to attend AA meetings 7 days a week and meet with his probation officer once a week. He could not leave the state until he did this for one year.
So, he didn't come home for spring break.
I sat Liv down and told her the facts about Sven. She cried a little, but in true Liv fashion, she put her chin out and said, "Well, we can't just desert him when he is in trouble, mama! He needs us more now. I'm sending him a letter right this minute telling him that I am his forever friend."
He never answered her letter. She didn't say much about that, just steadily sent him more letters. One every two weeks like clockwork.
Yesterday, Sven's mother came over and asked to speak to me.
Privately.
We sat outside on the back steps.
Sven's probation officer called her. He has been missing AA meetings. He was a no show at his latest appointment to see him. Lyndsay flew to Sven and went to his apartment and stood there until he let her in. She tried to get him to go back to re-hab. He swore he wasn't using.
"There was a bong on his kitchen table," she said. "Does he think I am an idiot?"
She went back to her hotel and he promised to meet her for breakfast before her flight home. He never showed up and is not answering calls.
So, she sat looking up at me with red rimmed eyes.
"Will you go to him, Maria?" she asked, tears spilling over.
"Please?"
I said that I didn't know if it would make a difference, but that I would go. We hugged. She went back home, her back sagging, her 44 year old face looking like it was 88 years old.
I went in and talked to Bing and Liv.
Both wanted to go with me. I said no. Sven and Bing were never that close. She doesn't need to come. And I will not let Liv see Sven now. Not when he is like this. So, I will be going alone on April 23.
It is the soonest I can take time off from work. Lyndsay offered to pay for my ticket. I said no. She has enough money worries.
I'm not trying to act like a saint. But, I think that if anyone can understand Sven, it might be me. I know what it is like to step on the precipice of addiction. I didn't step off the cliff like he did, but I was teetering right on the edge. So, maybe I can help him. Maybe I can't.
Probably I can't. I suspect that something very bad will have to happen before he takes that step. But, for his mother, for his sake...I will give it a shot.
He is like one of my own, you know?
He is that sweet child of mine.
And he's in there somewhere.
Right?
The day Liv and I moved into our house was the first day we met him. Liv was just learning to walk. Sven was 10. He came knocking on our door carrying a plate of brownies from his mother and hopefully asked if I had any kids. I wearily pointed to a very pissed off Liv, standing crankily in her playpen (baby jail is what I used to call it.)
I was not letting her out because she kept getting into everything. He walked over and offered her his finger.
"She'll do," he said.
She did. Sven became a fixture at our house. I had taken time away from working until Liv went to kindergarten, so I used to babysit Sven when he got home from school. When Sven got into high school, he returned the favor by babysitting Liv for me on nights when I wanted to go out. He and Liv became very close. He was her brother. He was the first person that she invited into her tree house when it was all fixed up to her approval. The fridge at his house contained her artwork for him. He would come over sometimes in the summer and hunt fireflies with her and swing her by her armpits around and around the yard. He was a huge football star in high school and Liv and I (and then Bing) went to every single one of his games. The day he left for a faraway college (on a football scholarship) was one of the hardest days for Liv. She wept as she hugged him goodbye in the driveway, waving bravely at him as he drove away. Then she came inside and went to her room and shut the door. Socks was the only one who could comfort her for hours.
Sven didn't like school much. His college was on the west coast and when he came home on holidays, he would shake his head and grin, talking about how strange the kids were in his college, how he just didn't fit in. His nickname was Corn Cob. His football career sizzled out his junior year when the son of a famous ex football legend enrolled in his school and the media went nuts. The son was after Sven's position on the team and he got, unfairly in Sven's eyes. He didn't believe that this kid was better than he was, but that the school needed the media attention. He had never excelled at his schoolwork, was barely squeaking by.
His mother, a single parent, worried. Sven began refusing to come home for holidays, saying that he needed to study. He started seeing a girl whom he brought home once. He brought her over to visit and all I can say is that I knew she was using the second I laid eyes on her.
Takes one to know one, I suppose.
I suspected he was using too. He seemed unfocused, bleary eyed. He was distant with all of us, even Liv. This hurt her deeply as she had never given up on him, sending him weekly pictures and letters even when he never wrote back or answered her texts. After he and his girlfriend went back to school, his mother came over to talk to me. She and I were never that close. She is a nurse and works the midnight shift now that Sven isn't home anymore. She is a very private person, very introverted, not unfriendly, but not friendly either. She and Sven were very close, though.
Well, Lyndsay (the mother) came over and sat on our back steps with me and wept into her hands. Bing ran to get her tissues. I ran to get her a glass of wine. She talked of how distant he was now, how disgruntled he was about football, how he was behaving strangely, asking her for more money (she was sending him a monthly allowance) and not returning her phone calls unless they were money related.
This was not our Sven.
Last summer, he didn't come home at all and Lyndsay admitted to me in August that she had talked him into going into a re-hab center. He had been kicked off the football team for not showing up for practices. So now, she had to come up with the money to pay his tuition for his senior year. She did that.
He went back to college, clean and sober. He stayed that way for exactly one month. And then the dodging of calls, etc. began all over again. The bad girlfriend was replaced with another just like her. In December, he was arrested after he was stopped for driving dangerously and drugs were found in his car. He was given an incredibly light sentence: he did no jail time but had to attend AA meetings 7 days a week and meet with his probation officer once a week. He could not leave the state until he did this for one year.
So, he didn't come home for spring break.
I sat Liv down and told her the facts about Sven. She cried a little, but in true Liv fashion, she put her chin out and said, "Well, we can't just desert him when he is in trouble, mama! He needs us more now. I'm sending him a letter right this minute telling him that I am his forever friend."
He never answered her letter. She didn't say much about that, just steadily sent him more letters. One every two weeks like clockwork.
Yesterday, Sven's mother came over and asked to speak to me.
Privately.
We sat outside on the back steps.
Sven's probation officer called her. He has been missing AA meetings. He was a no show at his latest appointment to see him. Lyndsay flew to Sven and went to his apartment and stood there until he let her in. She tried to get him to go back to re-hab. He swore he wasn't using.
"There was a bong on his kitchen table," she said. "Does he think I am an idiot?"
She went back to her hotel and he promised to meet her for breakfast before her flight home. He never showed up and is not answering calls.
So, she sat looking up at me with red rimmed eyes.
"Will you go to him, Maria?" she asked, tears spilling over.
"Please?"
I said that I didn't know if it would make a difference, but that I would go. We hugged. She went back home, her back sagging, her 44 year old face looking like it was 88 years old.
I went in and talked to Bing and Liv.
Both wanted to go with me. I said no. Sven and Bing were never that close. She doesn't need to come. And I will not let Liv see Sven now. Not when he is like this. So, I will be going alone on April 23.
It is the soonest I can take time off from work. Lyndsay offered to pay for my ticket. I said no. She has enough money worries.
I'm not trying to act like a saint. But, I think that if anyone can understand Sven, it might be me. I know what it is like to step on the precipice of addiction. I didn't step off the cliff like he did, but I was teetering right on the edge. So, maybe I can help him. Maybe I can't.
Probably I can't. I suspect that something very bad will have to happen before he takes that step. But, for his mother, for his sake...I will give it a shot.
He is like one of my own, you know?
He is that sweet child of mine.
And he's in there somewhere.
Right?
Sunday, April 10, 2011
The best Sundays....
....are lazy.
Liv and I went to the symphony last night with my sister and left poor Bing at home to oversee the plumber who is replacing the pipes in our shower. We are getting a new green shower put in and I am leery already. We not only have a water saving faucet, but it is also going to be on a five minute timer so that it shuts off after 5 minutes thus enabling us to not waste water.
This is going to be so not fun when I need to use my five minute conditioner when I am taking a shower. I will have to make it a four minute one, I suppose. There was no arguing with Bing on this one. She is intent on making us green.
So, Liv and I got home late and then I stayed up late reading my new book, so slept in until nearly 11.
Bliss.
It is gorgeous here on the prairie. All of our windows are open and the air is balmy and sweet. We all took Socks for a long walk, Bing jogging ahead of us and Liv, Socks and me meandering slowly, stopping to gape at the red bud trees blooming and the first shoots of tulips peeping out of the ground.
We came home and went out to take a look at how the garden soil fared over the long cold winter. It looks surprisingly good. Just needs a good tilling and it will be ready for us to bring up all the baby seedlings nestling in their beginner cartons in the basement. First Saturday in May is our plan to get them in.
And Liv will be home all summer, with the exception of ten days in early June when she visits her father who is teaching a summer course in Paris. So...I will have my co-gardener. I missed her so last summer, while tending our garden by myself, my wide brimmed hat square on my head, gardening gloves shoved in my back pocket. My Liv will be here to help this year.
Then, we all decided to go to a movie this afternoon. Liv wanted to see The Adjustment Bureau. I wanted (so badly!) to see Jane Eyre. Bing was dying to see Source Code. So, we put our choices in a hat and shook it and let Liv draw the name.
Guess we are going to see this:
Sighing. I suppose it will be okay. And I knew that if my movie won, Bing would be squirming with boredom throughout the whole thing, so s'pose I need to be a good sport.
But, I DID e-mail my niece and ask her if she wanted to go see my movie some evening this week....
After the movie, we will pick up a pizza and come home and maybe even get to eat it outside. Our spring patio furniture is still cooped up in the shed outside, but I don't think I would mind sitting on the back steps enjoying the succulent Spring breeze.
Tonight is Amazing Race. I am rooting for Big Easy and Flight Time.
Did I mention that next weekend, we are taking Liv and her new bff, Jackie to see these guys.? Tickets were very expensive, but it will be so much fun. And Jackie will then spend the night, which means that Bing will make pancakes for breakfast next Sunday.
Life is pretty sweet here on the prairie. How is it in your neck of the woods?
And hey? Has anyone seen the production of Jersey Boys? My sister wants me to go see them with her this summer and I said I would, even though I have no idea what this is even about.
I did this so that if Lee DeWyze ever comes to Omaha, she will owe me one and have to go with me. You're welcome, Bing.
Liv and I went to the symphony last night with my sister and left poor Bing at home to oversee the plumber who is replacing the pipes in our shower. We are getting a new green shower put in and I am leery already. We not only have a water saving faucet, but it is also going to be on a five minute timer so that it shuts off after 5 minutes thus enabling us to not waste water.
This is going to be so not fun when I need to use my five minute conditioner when I am taking a shower. I will have to make it a four minute one, I suppose. There was no arguing with Bing on this one. She is intent on making us green.
So, Liv and I got home late and then I stayed up late reading my new book, so slept in until nearly 11.
Bliss.
It is gorgeous here on the prairie. All of our windows are open and the air is balmy and sweet. We all took Socks for a long walk, Bing jogging ahead of us and Liv, Socks and me meandering slowly, stopping to gape at the red bud trees blooming and the first shoots of tulips peeping out of the ground.
We came home and went out to take a look at how the garden soil fared over the long cold winter. It looks surprisingly good. Just needs a good tilling and it will be ready for us to bring up all the baby seedlings nestling in their beginner cartons in the basement. First Saturday in May is our plan to get them in.
And Liv will be home all summer, with the exception of ten days in early June when she visits her father who is teaching a summer course in Paris. So...I will have my co-gardener. I missed her so last summer, while tending our garden by myself, my wide brimmed hat square on my head, gardening gloves shoved in my back pocket. My Liv will be here to help this year.
Then, we all decided to go to a movie this afternoon. Liv wanted to see The Adjustment Bureau. I wanted (so badly!) to see Jane Eyre. Bing was dying to see Source Code. So, we put our choices in a hat and shook it and let Liv draw the name.
Guess we are going to see this:
Sighing. I suppose it will be okay. And I knew that if my movie won, Bing would be squirming with boredom throughout the whole thing, so s'pose I need to be a good sport.
But, I DID e-mail my niece and ask her if she wanted to go see my movie some evening this week....
After the movie, we will pick up a pizza and come home and maybe even get to eat it outside. Our spring patio furniture is still cooped up in the shed outside, but I don't think I would mind sitting on the back steps enjoying the succulent Spring breeze.
Tonight is Amazing Race. I am rooting for Big Easy and Flight Time.
Did I mention that next weekend, we are taking Liv and her new bff, Jackie to see these guys.? Tickets were very expensive, but it will be so much fun. And Jackie will then spend the night, which means that Bing will make pancakes for breakfast next Sunday.
Life is pretty sweet here on the prairie. How is it in your neck of the woods?
And hey? Has anyone seen the production of Jersey Boys? My sister wants me to go see them with her this summer and I said I would, even though I have no idea what this is even about.
I did this so that if Lee DeWyze ever comes to Omaha, she will owe me one and have to go with me. You're welcome, Bing.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Thank you, Vince...for making me snort coffee out of my nose
Vince is an old friend from med school. He and I were friends from the get go. No awkward getting-to-know-you coffees, no slowly telling each other our stories. Nope. Vince told me in our first conversation that he was terrified of ants ("They just look so sinister and robotic, all that moving in place like good little nazis....")
He also told me that he lost his virginity at age 14 to his baseball coach.
Ick.
Vince moved to Chicago in the early 1990's and met the love of his life, Thuan, who co-owns a Vietnamese grocery store with his sister. They are wealthy. They send Liv so many gifts on her birthday and Christmas that I have started calling them Daddy Warbucks One and Two.
Vince looks like Cary Grant and Thuan looks like what you imagine: a small, wiry Vietnamese guy. They look almost comical together, but yet they somehow work. They have these incredibly ridiculous hissy fit fights that make Nathan Lane from La Cage Aux Folles look calm. BOTH of them are prone to limp wristed prancing and Vince is rather vain but will never admit it. Thuan is an incredible cook and when we visit Chicago, he feeds us hu tieu kho, caolau, bun bo hue and my favorite: mi quang. When he and Vince visit us, Thuan sends me a list of foods to pick up at the vietnamese grocery and then he cooks EVERY night. Life is a feast when Thuan is around.
Vince and I correspond mostly by e-mail but are known to send each other raunchy texts at times.
Vince taught me how to waltz. He taught Liv how to do some crazy dance called the dougie. He once accused Bing of being so meticulous that she probably ironed her dollar bills and then laughed when she looked at him seriously and said, "I never thought of that, but what a GOOD idea!" He thought she was kidding.
Vince plays the guitar, so he and Bing jam together sometimes, although Bing is the better musician and that bugs him just a little bit.
We used to go to Chicago every Christmas to visit them in their over the top glam apartment in downtown Chicago. But the last few years, we have somehow seen less and less of each other. So, we rely on those e-mails.
Today, I opened my e-mail and found these jewels from Vince. I challenge you not to laugh out loud. And for pete sakes, don't try to drink coffee and read at the same time. I tried that and ended up first choking on my coffee and then it came out my nose and all over my taupe colored blouse. Thank god that Marisol (our billing specialist) had Tide wipes or I would have been in deep ugly clothes shit since it was barely 8 a.m....
Here goes:
Dear Noah,
We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving 'til 5.
Sincerely,
The unicorns.
Dear Twilight fans,
Please realize that because vampires are dead and have no blood pumping through them, they can never get an erection. Enjoy fantasizing about that.
Sincerely,
Logic
Dear Icebergs,
Sorry to hear about the global warming. Karma's a bitch.
Sincerely,
The Titanic.
Dear America,
You produced Miley Cyrus. Bieber is your punishment.
Sincerely,
Canada
Dear Yahoo,
I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know. Let's Yahoo! it..." Just sayin'
Sincerely,
Google
Dear 2010,
So I hear the best rapper is white and the president is black? WTF happened?
Sincerely,
1985
Dear girls who have been dumped,
There are plenty of fish in the sea....Just kidding! They're all dead.
Sincerely,
BP
Dear Saturn,
I liked it, so I put a ring on it.
Sincerely,
God
Dear jakdiekeleeleoehn,
Please e39je,emlfjdld
Sincerely,
Stevie Wonder
Dear Nickelback,
That's enough.
Sincerely,
The World
Dear Scissors,
I feel your pain.....no one wants to run with me either.
Sincerely,
Sarah Palin.
Dear World of Warcraft,
Thank you for ensuring my son's virginity.
Sincerely,
Parents Everywhere
Dear Batman,
What was your power again?
Sincerely,
Superman
Dear Customers,
Yes, we ARE making fun of you in Vietnamese.
Sincerely,
the Nail Salon Ladies.
Dear ugly people,
You're welcome.
Sincerely,
Alcohol
Dear Martin Luther King, Jr.
I have a dream within a dream within a dream within another dream...What now?
Sincerely,
Leonardo Di Caprio
Dear World,
Please stop freaking out about 2012. Our calendars end there because some Spanish d-bags invaded our country and we got a little busy, okay?
Sincerely,
The Mayans
Dear Snooki,
GET BACK TO WORK!
Sincerely,
Willy Wonka
Dear White People,
Don't you just hate immigrants?
Sincerely,
Native Americans
Dear iPhone,
Please stop spellchecking all of my rude words into nice words. You piece of shut.
Sincerely,
Every iPhone User
Dear Giant Spider on the Wall,
Please die. Please die. Please die. Please die. CRAP!! Where did you go?
Sincerely,
Terrified
Dear Trash,
At least you get picked up...
Sincerely,
The Girls of Jersey Shore
Dear Man,
It's cute, but can't you pick up peanuts with it?
Sincerely,
Elephant
Dear Dr. Phil,
Listen there's only room for one fake doctor in this world and I was here first.
Sincerely,
Dr. Pepper
Smiling still.....
Silly boy.
He also told me that he lost his virginity at age 14 to his baseball coach.
Ick.
Vince moved to Chicago in the early 1990's and met the love of his life, Thuan, who co-owns a Vietnamese grocery store with his sister. They are wealthy. They send Liv so many gifts on her birthday and Christmas that I have started calling them Daddy Warbucks One and Two.
Vince looks like Cary Grant and Thuan looks like what you imagine: a small, wiry Vietnamese guy. They look almost comical together, but yet they somehow work. They have these incredibly ridiculous hissy fit fights that make Nathan Lane from La Cage Aux Folles look calm. BOTH of them are prone to limp wristed prancing and Vince is rather vain but will never admit it. Thuan is an incredible cook and when we visit Chicago, he feeds us hu tieu kho, caolau, bun bo hue and my favorite: mi quang. When he and Vince visit us, Thuan sends me a list of foods to pick up at the vietnamese grocery and then he cooks EVERY night. Life is a feast when Thuan is around.
Vince and I correspond mostly by e-mail but are known to send each other raunchy texts at times.
Vince taught me how to waltz. He taught Liv how to do some crazy dance called the dougie. He once accused Bing of being so meticulous that she probably ironed her dollar bills and then laughed when she looked at him seriously and said, "I never thought of that, but what a GOOD idea!" He thought she was kidding.
Vince plays the guitar, so he and Bing jam together sometimes, although Bing is the better musician and that bugs him just a little bit.
We used to go to Chicago every Christmas to visit them in their over the top glam apartment in downtown Chicago. But the last few years, we have somehow seen less and less of each other. So, we rely on those e-mails.
Today, I opened my e-mail and found these jewels from Vince. I challenge you not to laugh out loud. And for pete sakes, don't try to drink coffee and read at the same time. I tried that and ended up first choking on my coffee and then it came out my nose and all over my taupe colored blouse. Thank god that Marisol (our billing specialist) had Tide wipes or I would have been in deep ugly clothes shit since it was barely 8 a.m....
Here goes:
Dear Noah,
We could have sworn you said the ark wasn't leaving 'til 5.
Sincerely,
The unicorns.
Dear Twilight fans,
Please realize that because vampires are dead and have no blood pumping through them, they can never get an erection. Enjoy fantasizing about that.
Sincerely,
Logic
Dear Icebergs,
Sorry to hear about the global warming. Karma's a bitch.
Sincerely,
The Titanic.
Dear America,
You produced Miley Cyrus. Bieber is your punishment.
Sincerely,
Canada
Dear Yahoo,
I've never heard anyone say, "I don't know. Let's Yahoo! it..." Just sayin'
Sincerely,
Dear 2010,
So I hear the best rapper is white and the president is black? WTF happened?
Sincerely,
1985
Dear girls who have been dumped,
There are plenty of fish in the sea....Just kidding! They're all dead.
Sincerely,
BP
Dear Saturn,
I liked it, so I put a ring on it.
Sincerely,
God
Dear jakdiekeleeleoehn,
Please e39je,emlfjdld
Sincerely,
Stevie Wonder
Dear Nickelback,
That's enough.
Sincerely,
The World
Dear Scissors,
I feel your pain.....no one wants to run with me either.
Sincerely,
Sarah Palin.
Dear World of Warcraft,
Thank you for ensuring my son's virginity.
Sincerely,
Parents Everywhere
Dear Batman,
What was your power again?
Sincerely,
Superman
Dear Customers,
Yes, we ARE making fun of you in Vietnamese.
Sincerely,
the Nail Salon Ladies.
Dear ugly people,
You're welcome.
Sincerely,
Alcohol
Dear Martin Luther King, Jr.
I have a dream within a dream within a dream within another dream...What now?
Sincerely,
Leonardo Di Caprio
Dear World,
Please stop freaking out about 2012. Our calendars end there because some Spanish d-bags invaded our country and we got a little busy, okay?
Sincerely,
The Mayans
Dear Snooki,
GET BACK TO WORK!
Sincerely,
Willy Wonka
Dear White People,
Don't you just hate immigrants?
Sincerely,
Native Americans
Dear iPhone,
Please stop spellchecking all of my rude words into nice words. You piece of shut.
Sincerely,
Every iPhone User
Dear Giant Spider on the Wall,
Please die. Please die. Please die. Please die. CRAP!! Where did you go?
Sincerely,
Terrified
Dear Trash,
At least you get picked up...
Sincerely,
The Girls of Jersey Shore
Dear Man,
It's cute, but can't you pick up peanuts with it?
Sincerely,
Elephant
Dear Dr. Phil,
Listen there's only room for one fake doctor in this world and I was here first.
Sincerely,
Dr. Pepper
Smiling still.....
Silly boy.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
What I don't say
Aw, sweetie. I know. I know. A few nights ago, cuddling in bed before sleep, you sleepily asked me why it was that I am so "upfront" on my blog and write every night in my journal but when I am with other people, I just don't have much to say.
I don't get it either. I'm not really shy or bashful. I guess...I just enjoy listening more than talking most of the time. And with you? I suppose I figure that you just somehow know how I feel.
But, just in case you don't....
Here is what I don't say:
I don't tell you how funny I think you are. I love your sardonic humor, the way you knock out these droll comments that are dead on. It is probably one of my favorite things about you. You have made me laugh from day one.
I don't always mention that I am forever grateful that you seem to know my body even better than I do sometimes. How do you do that? Especially since I am not particularly verbal in bed, not a dirty talker or much of a moaner. In fact, I once had a girlfriend who told me that I was "bad in bed" because I wasn't good about helping her to make proper love to me. But, somehow without much input from me, you figured out that I adore having my breasts caressed and loved on. That I pretty much need you to stay away from my ass. Once in awhile, it's good, but only occasionally. How do you know that I love your whimsical side? The way that you nibble on my toes, tenderly kiss my ankle bone and then slowly, slowly work your way up? I love the way that even when we are in the throes of passion, we often lock fingers and eyes. No one has ever known me better than you or loved me harder. You, on the other hand, have never been shy about telling me exactly what you need/want and for that, I am eternally grateful. I am a poor guesser and when unsure, I just do to you what I like and I would have never known if you hadn't told me that you really aren't much into having your breasts stimulated and that what you really love are those long, slow kisses and meandering fingers. I love it that afterward, we always smile at each other and sometimes laugh with the sheer joy of our connection. I love that we fall asleep spooning.
I don't always mention that I depend on your steadiness far more than I admit. I am the flighty one, I admit it. As you said once, I am the woman who looks like a stiff wind could knock me over, but I could fight a buzz saw if I had to. And win. You didn't say that I could win, but I KNOW that I would. So, it seems a little silly to value your steadiness when I am pretty steady in my own shoes. Yet, I depend on your clear thinking in a crisis, the way you just bend your head down and do it. You are my female equivalent of the marlboro man. Your head is always completely clear. I love the way you instinctively take my arm when it is icy outside, how you open car doors for me and help me in and out even when I don't need it. The way you point out uneven sidewalks and big cracks to me. Once, when we were at a mall, a large man came careening out of a restaurant, shouting belligerently about the food and even though he was not really near us, you put yourself in front of me, arm ready to protect me. And you do that naturally. Every single friend and family member that I have has commented on how you care for me so diligently, so sweetly. It is such a part of our relationship that I don't even think about it anymore, it is just my Bing. Just you. But, I don't think that I have ever told you how much it means to me that you look out for me, have my back ALL THE TIME.
I don't mention the fact that you always give me the biggest share when we split a cookie, a bowl of ice cream or a brownie.
I don't always tell you that I love it that you can do math in your head. Effortlessly. You and Liv run circles around me in the math department. You can figure an 18% tip without having to use a calculator. You balance our check book to the penny.
I don't thank you for putting gas in my car each and every weekend and wash it inside and out. You just do it. Without saying a word.
I don't know if I have told you that while you are not really a better cook than I am (I think we are both pretty mediocre, to be honest) but you do the lion's share of the cooking. I realize that this is because you want to be sure that we eat mostly vegetarian, but I think you do it because you see the fatigue on my face at the end of the day too. And thank you for picking up surprises for me now and then: horchata, cadbury eggs, kettle chips, Claussen's dill pickles and cherry garcia Ben and Jerry's. You will come home and just hand it to me silently. I cannot remember the last time I surprised you with anything. Pretty pathetic. I need to work on that.
I don't think I have told you that I love the way you are always respectful to my family even when they are acting like douche bags. Especially my awful brother in law. Patrice's husband. When he sits there guffawing about how clever he is when he makes racist remarks, you are the one who gently rubs my thigh under the table to calm me down. You sit quietly, looking at him with this puzzled look on your face and always manage to say something that is rather devastating, but still respectful. I don't know how you manage not to throw your iced tea in his face, I really don't.
I have never thanked you for being such a great step mother to Liv. You are her personal driver, her homework mentor, and her music teacher. She loves you so. But you must know that because she is good about telling you that. Much better than I am.
And that brings me to all the I-love-yous that you say each and every day. Sometimes I am distracted or tired and don't answer or just smile, but truthfully, you deserve me to say it often and loudly.
Because I do, honey. Love you. More than you realize.
If I lost you, my world would come crashing all around me. You are so important to me and yet I don't really contemplate that enough. Sort of like my arms. I use them daily, they have never let me down and I don't really think about them much.
Never mind. You are not like my arms anyway, you are more like my heart. My soul. That part of me that I don't let come out because I am not good at professing love. I am terrible at saying those words. And the truth is that I believe with my whole heart that I honestly do not deserve someone as wonderful as you. I feel like that Shawn Colvin song sometimes, that maybe God left something out in me.
But, Bing? I love you desperately, deeply and with every ounce of my being.
You make my life sweeter and truer. (And messier, that is for sho....)
I love you so....
I don't get it either. I'm not really shy or bashful. I guess...I just enjoy listening more than talking most of the time. And with you? I suppose I figure that you just somehow know how I feel.
But, just in case you don't....
Here is what I don't say:
I don't tell you how funny I think you are. I love your sardonic humor, the way you knock out these droll comments that are dead on. It is probably one of my favorite things about you. You have made me laugh from day one.
I don't always mention that I am forever grateful that you seem to know my body even better than I do sometimes. How do you do that? Especially since I am not particularly verbal in bed, not a dirty talker or much of a moaner. In fact, I once had a girlfriend who told me that I was "bad in bed" because I wasn't good about helping her to make proper love to me. But, somehow without much input from me, you figured out that I adore having my breasts caressed and loved on. That I pretty much need you to stay away from my ass. Once in awhile, it's good, but only occasionally. How do you know that I love your whimsical side? The way that you nibble on my toes, tenderly kiss my ankle bone and then slowly, slowly work your way up? I love the way that even when we are in the throes of passion, we often lock fingers and eyes. No one has ever known me better than you or loved me harder. You, on the other hand, have never been shy about telling me exactly what you need/want and for that, I am eternally grateful. I am a poor guesser and when unsure, I just do to you what I like and I would have never known if you hadn't told me that you really aren't much into having your breasts stimulated and that what you really love are those long, slow kisses and meandering fingers. I love it that afterward, we always smile at each other and sometimes laugh with the sheer joy of our connection. I love that we fall asleep spooning.
I don't always mention that I depend on your steadiness far more than I admit. I am the flighty one, I admit it. As you said once, I am the woman who looks like a stiff wind could knock me over, but I could fight a buzz saw if I had to. And win. You didn't say that I could win, but I KNOW that I would. So, it seems a little silly to value your steadiness when I am pretty steady in my own shoes. Yet, I depend on your clear thinking in a crisis, the way you just bend your head down and do it. You are my female equivalent of the marlboro man. Your head is always completely clear. I love the way you instinctively take my arm when it is icy outside, how you open car doors for me and help me in and out even when I don't need it. The way you point out uneven sidewalks and big cracks to me. Once, when we were at a mall, a large man came careening out of a restaurant, shouting belligerently about the food and even though he was not really near us, you put yourself in front of me, arm ready to protect me. And you do that naturally. Every single friend and family member that I have has commented on how you care for me so diligently, so sweetly. It is such a part of our relationship that I don't even think about it anymore, it is just my Bing. Just you. But, I don't think that I have ever told you how much it means to me that you look out for me, have my back ALL THE TIME.
I don't mention the fact that you always give me the biggest share when we split a cookie, a bowl of ice cream or a brownie.
I don't always tell you that I love it that you can do math in your head. Effortlessly. You and Liv run circles around me in the math department. You can figure an 18% tip without having to use a calculator. You balance our check book to the penny.
I don't thank you for putting gas in my car each and every weekend and wash it inside and out. You just do it. Without saying a word.
I don't know if I have told you that while you are not really a better cook than I am (I think we are both pretty mediocre, to be honest) but you do the lion's share of the cooking. I realize that this is because you want to be sure that we eat mostly vegetarian, but I think you do it because you see the fatigue on my face at the end of the day too. And thank you for picking up surprises for me now and then: horchata, cadbury eggs, kettle chips, Claussen's dill pickles and cherry garcia Ben and Jerry's. You will come home and just hand it to me silently. I cannot remember the last time I surprised you with anything. Pretty pathetic. I need to work on that.
I don't think I have told you that I love the way you are always respectful to my family even when they are acting like douche bags. Especially my awful brother in law. Patrice's husband. When he sits there guffawing about how clever he is when he makes racist remarks, you are the one who gently rubs my thigh under the table to calm me down. You sit quietly, looking at him with this puzzled look on your face and always manage to say something that is rather devastating, but still respectful. I don't know how you manage not to throw your iced tea in his face, I really don't.
I have never thanked you for being such a great step mother to Liv. You are her personal driver, her homework mentor, and her music teacher. She loves you so. But you must know that because she is good about telling you that. Much better than I am.
And that brings me to all the I-love-yous that you say each and every day. Sometimes I am distracted or tired and don't answer or just smile, but truthfully, you deserve me to say it often and loudly.
Because I do, honey. Love you. More than you realize.
If I lost you, my world would come crashing all around me. You are so important to me and yet I don't really contemplate that enough. Sort of like my arms. I use them daily, they have never let me down and I don't really think about them much.
Never mind. You are not like my arms anyway, you are more like my heart. My soul. That part of me that I don't let come out because I am not good at professing love. I am terrible at saying those words. And the truth is that I believe with my whole heart that I honestly do not deserve someone as wonderful as you. I feel like that Shawn Colvin song sometimes, that maybe God left something out in me.
But, Bing? I love you desperately, deeply and with every ounce of my being.
You make my life sweeter and truer. (And messier, that is for sho....)
I love you so....
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
Confession
Sometimes I stay home from work and I am not sick and I do not share that I am staying home with Bing or Liv.
Socks hasn't ratted me out yet. Probably because he gets to go on a morning walk and then lay on the bed or sofa with me all afternoon.
It's my dirty little secret.
I still have my cell on. If someone needs to contact me, I am just a phone call away. So, I am not unreachable.
I am just alone. Which is what I love to be. Sometimes.
Don't get me wrong. I love my life. It is full and busy and sweet. And last summer, when I was alone for months at a time, I was bereft. At first. And then I am half ashamed to admit that I did just okey dokey. The truth: I missed Liv daily, but not Bing. I think this is part of being a mother. It just comes with the price of admission. But...after the first few days of missing Bing, I was fine. I think it had everything to do with the fact that I knew that, in August, she was coming back home. If we had broken up or she had died or something, I'm quite sure that I would have been morose. But, we hadn't split up and she was very alive. So, in the meantime, the WHOLE bed was mine. I ate what I wanted when I wanted. If I wasn't hungry for lunch until 2 p.m., I ate then. If I wanted wine with dinner, I had it. And on a few of the weekends that were rainy, I confess that I laid in bed ALL DAY long with my book, snuggled up and only got up to let Socks out to make a mad dash to pee and then come loping back.
I listened to Lee DeWyze a lot. This alone would have made Bing want to scream. She calls him that coffee house singer and is not particularly impressed.
But, the truth is that when my phone rang and I saw the Liv icon, I practically sprang into action to get it right away. With Bing...okay...a few times I let it go to voicemail, times when I just didn't feel like listening to how interesting African tribal drum music was. Once, she played me a complex piece on a bongo and I felt the beginnings of a migraine, I swear it.
So, now that everyone is back home, my alone times are few and far between. I can't even run to the store for a phone battery without one or both of them wanting to go with me.
I listen to my book on tape in the car as I drive to and from work and sometimes I sit in the parking lot at work, cherishing my time alone.
I've tried going to bed early to get some alone time but I seem to be a magnet for both my lover and my daughter. Either Liv will come in and bounce, bounce, bounce on the bed and ask me what I am reading and what is it about and hey, can she interrupt for just one moment to ask me a question about this one thing...or Bing will come in and ask me if I would like a foot rub or a back rub. This is code for you are laying in that bed looking tasty and I am bored with watching old movies downstairs...Liv just went to bed...so WANNA FUCK?
No. I want to be alone. Like Greta Garbo.
If Bing is in the house, music is playing. She is just built that way. This would be fine if she was listening to Lee DeWyze, but no...she likes reggae and jazz. Frankly, jazz makes me feel like my nerves are snapping rubber bands and reggae, after an initial foot tapping few moments, makes me feel like I am babysitting a hyperactive child.
Plus, in the evenings, we have television shows that we never miss. It is sort of pathetic but I guess it could be worse.
On Sundays, we all watch The Amazing Race. We have bets on who is going to win. I am rooting for the Harlem Globetrotter team, Liv likes the cowboys and Bing has been pouting ever since they sent the mother/deaf son team home.
On Mondays, I watch Hawaii Five-O and yes, Bing, I do know that the story lines are lame. I just enjoy watching Scott Caan and Alex O'Loughlin. And it is merely a rumor that I once licked the television screen when Steve McGarrett did not have a shirt on.
On Tuesdays, we all watch Glee. Bing says she "isn't crazy" about this show but then what the hell is she doing sitting on the sofa watching it? Liv and I are known to do impromtu dance numbers when this is on.
Wednesdays and Thursdays are ABSOLUTELY NO ARGUING nights for American Idol. And yes, until last year, I was one of those uppity snots who sat with my nose in the air about this show and swore it was pablum for the masses. And then I decided to just see how Ellen was on the show and then there was Lee DeWyze and before you could say cougar, I was hooked. I promised Bing that I would not watch it this year ("Why would I wanna watch, honey? Lee isn't on this year! Well, maybe if he guests on it, I will watch THAT show....") but I lied. Liv and I watched the first show and now I am rooting for Paul McDonald while she likes James Durbin. Bing, who pretends that she is only marginally fond of this show has actually VOTED, something that neither Liv nor I have done. And it was for the reggae singer, Naima who has since been voted off and Bing is still sulking. But, I will tease her until her death that I caught her secretly voting for her. Her reasoning was that she somehow knew that she would be voted off and she was trying to postpone the inevitable.
Fridays, we all are hooked on Fringe. So much so that we all go out for pancakes on Fridays (family tradition) and then rush to the grocery store to do the week's shopping before it starts at 8 p.m. Yes, we are snorting tv pigs.
Saturdays? Nothing. But, hey...we need one night to play scrabble.
So, can you blame me for wanting to be alone sometimes? I feel like from the moment I get home in the evenings, I am surrounded by my family. Whom I love. Seriously. But, some days...I just want to lay around and not be hit on by my wife because Liv isn't around and she thinks that means it is romance time or have Liv tell me that, by the way, it is her turn to bring treats to school tomorrow.
I just want me time. Time to paint my toenails and not have to paint Liv's too or have Bing sit there watching me paint my toenails and for some strange reason, think this is sexy.
Today, I stayed home. And this is what I did:
1) I took Socks for a nice long morning walk.
2) I ate a bowl of cream of wheat for breakfast and put brown sugar on it.
3) I read an article in a magazine about how Lee DeWyze is now dating the girl that played his love interest in his video and that they are pretty serious. I studied her photo and admitted that she is gorgeous, but good hell...she IS a model and she IS only 20 and she doesn't have a full time job so that she can earn money for her daughter's college tuition. She also makes insipid remarks about how she loves her "daddy" so much because he pays her speeding tickets. Little brat. Oh, Lee. I sort of feel like I did when I found out that Springsteen married Julianne Philips. Like..God..at least marry some earthy girl who looks like she could inspire all those slice-of-life songs that you write. You know...NOT a model....
And then he married Patti and I forgave him. So...Lee needs to find a Patti.
4) I put on an old Aerosmith album and danced with the dog.
5) This made me dizzy, so I laid on the sofa for a while.
6) I painted toenails and fingernails a very soft mauve color. My days of fire engine red are behind me.
7) I tried out the new eyelash "rejuvenator" that is supposed to make my eyelashes fuller. I used to have such long eyelashes that they would occasionally hit my glasses. Now that never happens. So...I spent some $ on this eyelash gunk. Don't tell Bing. When I do that kind of shit, it annoys her. She doesn't understand makeup.
8) I ran the dishwasher and then thought that this was a bad idea because Bing will come home and wonder when I had time to do this when I was at work. I am not a good hider. I could never have an affair. I would be doing stupid things like leaving love letters sitting out on my dresser or somehow manage to get a very juvenile looking hickey or something equally stupid.
9) I started a new book: The Pioneer Woman; Black Heels to Tractor Wheels by Ree Drummond because someone once told me that our blogs were similar. I took a look at her blog and decided that she was WAY better than me at blogging, but when I saw her book, I bought it because if it is as good as her blog, it is good.
10) I sent dirty text messages to my sisters to make them laugh. Especially, Jessie...who is teaching her religion class about now. I like to make her feel very, very guilty but laugh anyway.
12) I e-mailed my friend in West Virginia and told her that YES, I would be flying up in late April to go to the Lee DeWyze concert with her. She knows of myobsession interest in him and wrote to say that he is playing there in late April. I am also going to see him in Des Moines, Iowa on July 21, but I swear that this is it, Bing. I swear.
12) I watched the beginning of a movie with a very young Robert DeNiro in it but decided that I didn't need to spend my day watching television until Ellen is on.
And now, Ellen is coming on, so I am going to go slog on the sofa with the dog and maybe eat some ice cream too.
I will be alone soon enough. Bing is spending the month of June in Berlin and Liv is spending 10 days in June with her father who is spending the summer in Paris teaching. So...June will be a solitary month for me.
Ever play hookey? And if not, WHY NOT?
Socks hasn't ratted me out yet. Probably because he gets to go on a morning walk and then lay on the bed or sofa with me all afternoon.
It's my dirty little secret.
I still have my cell on. If someone needs to contact me, I am just a phone call away. So, I am not unreachable.
I am just alone. Which is what I love to be. Sometimes.
Don't get me wrong. I love my life. It is full and busy and sweet. And last summer, when I was alone for months at a time, I was bereft. At first. And then I am half ashamed to admit that I did just okey dokey. The truth: I missed Liv daily, but not Bing. I think this is part of being a mother. It just comes with the price of admission. But...after the first few days of missing Bing, I was fine. I think it had everything to do with the fact that I knew that, in August, she was coming back home. If we had broken up or she had died or something, I'm quite sure that I would have been morose. But, we hadn't split up and she was very alive. So, in the meantime, the WHOLE bed was mine. I ate what I wanted when I wanted. If I wasn't hungry for lunch until 2 p.m., I ate then. If I wanted wine with dinner, I had it. And on a few of the weekends that were rainy, I confess that I laid in bed ALL DAY long with my book, snuggled up and only got up to let Socks out to make a mad dash to pee and then come loping back.
I listened to Lee DeWyze a lot. This alone would have made Bing want to scream. She calls him that coffee house singer and is not particularly impressed.
But, the truth is that when my phone rang and I saw the Liv icon, I practically sprang into action to get it right away. With Bing...okay...a few times I let it go to voicemail, times when I just didn't feel like listening to how interesting African tribal drum music was. Once, she played me a complex piece on a bongo and I felt the beginnings of a migraine, I swear it.
So, now that everyone is back home, my alone times are few and far between. I can't even run to the store for a phone battery without one or both of them wanting to go with me.
I listen to my book on tape in the car as I drive to and from work and sometimes I sit in the parking lot at work, cherishing my time alone.
I've tried going to bed early to get some alone time but I seem to be a magnet for both my lover and my daughter. Either Liv will come in and bounce, bounce, bounce on the bed and ask me what I am reading and what is it about and hey, can she interrupt for just one moment to ask me a question about this one thing...or Bing will come in and ask me if I would like a foot rub or a back rub. This is code for you are laying in that bed looking tasty and I am bored with watching old movies downstairs...Liv just went to bed...so WANNA FUCK?
No. I want to be alone. Like Greta Garbo.
If Bing is in the house, music is playing. She is just built that way. This would be fine if she was listening to Lee DeWyze, but no...she likes reggae and jazz. Frankly, jazz makes me feel like my nerves are snapping rubber bands and reggae, after an initial foot tapping few moments, makes me feel like I am babysitting a hyperactive child.
Plus, in the evenings, we have television shows that we never miss. It is sort of pathetic but I guess it could be worse.
On Sundays, we all watch The Amazing Race. We have bets on who is going to win. I am rooting for the Harlem Globetrotter team, Liv likes the cowboys and Bing has been pouting ever since they sent the mother/deaf son team home.
On Mondays, I watch Hawaii Five-O and yes, Bing, I do know that the story lines are lame. I just enjoy watching Scott Caan and Alex O'Loughlin. And it is merely a rumor that I once licked the television screen when Steve McGarrett did not have a shirt on.
On Tuesdays, we all watch Glee. Bing says she "isn't crazy" about this show but then what the hell is she doing sitting on the sofa watching it? Liv and I are known to do impromtu dance numbers when this is on.
Wednesdays and Thursdays are ABSOLUTELY NO ARGUING nights for American Idol. And yes, until last year, I was one of those uppity snots who sat with my nose in the air about this show and swore it was pablum for the masses. And then I decided to just see how Ellen was on the show and then there was Lee DeWyze and before you could say cougar, I was hooked. I promised Bing that I would not watch it this year ("Why would I wanna watch, honey? Lee isn't on this year! Well, maybe if he guests on it, I will watch THAT show....") but I lied. Liv and I watched the first show and now I am rooting for Paul McDonald while she likes James Durbin. Bing, who pretends that she is only marginally fond of this show has actually VOTED, something that neither Liv nor I have done. And it was for the reggae singer, Naima who has since been voted off and Bing is still sulking. But, I will tease her until her death that I caught her secretly voting for her. Her reasoning was that she somehow knew that she would be voted off and she was trying to postpone the inevitable.
Fridays, we all are hooked on Fringe. So much so that we all go out for pancakes on Fridays (family tradition) and then rush to the grocery store to do the week's shopping before it starts at 8 p.m. Yes, we are snorting tv pigs.
Saturdays? Nothing. But, hey...we need one night to play scrabble.
So, can you blame me for wanting to be alone sometimes? I feel like from the moment I get home in the evenings, I am surrounded by my family. Whom I love. Seriously. But, some days...I just want to lay around and not be hit on by my wife because Liv isn't around and she thinks that means it is romance time or have Liv tell me that, by the way, it is her turn to bring treats to school tomorrow.
I just want me time. Time to paint my toenails and not have to paint Liv's too or have Bing sit there watching me paint my toenails and for some strange reason, think this is sexy.
Today, I stayed home. And this is what I did:
1) I took Socks for a nice long morning walk.
2) I ate a bowl of cream of wheat for breakfast and put brown sugar on it.
3) I read an article in a magazine about how Lee DeWyze is now dating the girl that played his love interest in his video and that they are pretty serious. I studied her photo and admitted that she is gorgeous, but good hell...she IS a model and she IS only 20 and she doesn't have a full time job so that she can earn money for her daughter's college tuition. She also makes insipid remarks about how she loves her "daddy" so much because he pays her speeding tickets. Little brat. Oh, Lee. I sort of feel like I did when I found out that Springsteen married Julianne Philips. Like..God..at least marry some earthy girl who looks like she could inspire all those slice-of-life songs that you write. You know...NOT a model....
And then he married Patti and I forgave him. So...Lee needs to find a Patti.
4) I put on an old Aerosmith album and danced with the dog.
5) This made me dizzy, so I laid on the sofa for a while.
6) I painted toenails and fingernails a very soft mauve color. My days of fire engine red are behind me.
7) I tried out the new eyelash "rejuvenator" that is supposed to make my eyelashes fuller. I used to have such long eyelashes that they would occasionally hit my glasses. Now that never happens. So...I spent some $ on this eyelash gunk. Don't tell Bing. When I do that kind of shit, it annoys her. She doesn't understand makeup.
8) I ran the dishwasher and then thought that this was a bad idea because Bing will come home and wonder when I had time to do this when I was at work. I am not a good hider. I could never have an affair. I would be doing stupid things like leaving love letters sitting out on my dresser or somehow manage to get a very juvenile looking hickey or something equally stupid.
9) I started a new book: The Pioneer Woman; Black Heels to Tractor Wheels by Ree Drummond because someone once told me that our blogs were similar. I took a look at her blog and decided that she was WAY better than me at blogging, but when I saw her book, I bought it because if it is as good as her blog, it is good.
10) I sent dirty text messages to my sisters to make them laugh. Especially, Jessie...who is teaching her religion class about now. I like to make her feel very, very guilty but laugh anyway.
12) I e-mailed my friend in West Virginia and told her that YES, I would be flying up in late April to go to the Lee DeWyze concert with her. She knows of my
12) I watched the beginning of a movie with a very young Robert DeNiro in it but decided that I didn't need to spend my day watching television until Ellen is on.
And now, Ellen is coming on, so I am going to go slog on the sofa with the dog and maybe eat some ice cream too.
I will be alone soon enough. Bing is spending the month of June in Berlin and Liv is spending 10 days in June with her father who is spending the summer in Paris teaching. So...June will be a solitary month for me.
Ever play hookey? And if not, WHY NOT?
Monday, April 04, 2011
Rockin out
I seldom watch awards shows. Just not my thang. But, last night Bing had some country award show on and I was camped out on the sofa reading my new book. Liv was laying on the floor doing her homework.
Carrie Underwood came out to sing her Undo It song, which is one of my favorites and I know all the words because I mock sing it to Bing almost every time she is irritating me.
("You stole my happy. You made me cry.......")
I looked up and halfway through the song, I hear this scream and it is Steven Tyler!
God, I love him. He is not even good looking....he is old...yet...yet...he makes my stomach do flippy flops.
Before I knew it, Bing had pulled Liv and I up on our feet and we were rockin' our living room.
SO much fun.
So, I know it is long....but give this a watch and I dare you to get through it without
jumping to your feet and being a bad, bad girl or boy, doing a nasty dance.
Walk this way, walk this way!
Just gimme a kiss
Like this!
Carrie Underwood came out to sing her Undo It song, which is one of my favorites and I know all the words because I mock sing it to Bing almost every time she is irritating me.
("You stole my happy. You made me cry.......")
I looked up and halfway through the song, I hear this scream and it is Steven Tyler!
God, I love him. He is not even good looking....he is old...yet...yet...he makes my stomach do flippy flops.
Before I knew it, Bing had pulled Liv and I up on our feet and we were rockin' our living room.
SO much fun.
So, I know it is long....but give this a watch and I dare you to get through it without
jumping to your feet and being a bad, bad girl or boy, doing a nasty dance.
Walk this way, walk this way!
Just gimme a kiss
Like this!
Saturday, April 02, 2011
Free falling
Busy weekend. My little (actually the little mutt is 44 years old!) sister is in town for the weekend, so lots of hustle and bustle. I love Jessie. She and I always have good talks despite the annoying fact that she is a devout catholic republican.
She went to a Joan Jett concert, though and brought me back home a cd to apologize after she drunk texted me this:
I am having a debate with Tish (our niece) about you lezzies. Are you into big tits? Because we both admit that Joan is freakin' hot and we would do her. But, Tish has those big gazoombas and thanks to the big C, I have none. Would she do me anyway? Do big tits matter or not so much with lezzie girls?
My phone was shut off the night, so I didn't see it until the next day or I would have a lot to say to her....
She raised three fantastic daughters.
When I was so sick a year or so ago, she sent me so many books that I may never run out. The problem, of course, was that they were RELIGIOUS tomes about praying and healing so I didn't read even one of them.
When FRINGE is on, she calls me during commercials and we discuss the plot and when the commercial is over we make stupid kissy noises into the phone and say, "Love you, sis!"
She made me laugh so hard once that beer came out of my nose when she told me that she couldn't eat cheerios anymore because they just smell like pee...didn't I think so?
And the thing is...now whenever I eat cheerios, I think to myself that they DO smell like pee.
I once called her a dumb as a doorknob douche bag because had the nerve to park in my driveway with an anti Obama sticker on her car.
She once threatened to come over to my house and slap me when she found out that I read tarot cards for her daughter. ("Tarot cards are the devil's toys, Maria! How could you subject my CHILD to such an evil thing?")
She makes my hair look fuckin' gorgeous but I can't sayfuck around her so I say freakin' instead.
She thinks I have a "potty mouth."
She once told me that giving her husband head is okay with Jesus as long as she doesn't let him come in her mouth because "sex is only to be used to procreate." I jokingly told her that I don't let Bing come in my mouth either and I think she believed me but she just frowned and said, "Maria, I love you but I really can't listen to that sinful stuff, okay?" And I retorted with, "I love you too, Jess, but I really can't listen to you talking about giving Dwayne head either because it makes me want to throw up."
She admitted to me that she and my other sisters once baptized Liv when she was an infant when I was out of the room because they wanted to be sure that she didn't go to hell if she died young. I was pissed off at first, but then I calmed down. It didn't harm my child and it gave them peace. So...no big deal.
She smokes but won't admit it. She has only smoked pot once and that was when she was so nauseated from her chemo treatments that I went out and bought some and talked her into smoking a joint with me to help her feel better. We had the best talk of our lives after smoking that joint and we also ate an entire pan of brownies. Because of that talk, we are closer and at every family get-together we make time to find a big bed to lay on together and just talk about things, holding hands.
She wears the same size dress that I do, but has bigger feet.
So...it is always nice to see her. She and Bing get along like gangbusters and I have no idea why since Jessie is the sort of person that Bing usually rolls her eyes at. I think maybe it is because they are both teachers.
She and her daughters will sleep in our attic and downstairs guest rooms. They will get up at the crack of dawn and make pancakes for Liv. Liv will get to hang with her favorite girl cousins (ages 13, 16 and 19) and go shopping with them. Liv will come home with a new outfit because Jessie loves buying her frilly girl clothes and Liv is too tenderhearted to tell her that she really hardly ever wears dresses.
In fact, they are shopping right now as I speak. They went to Liv's soccer game with me and Bing and Liv flushed prettily as she had SIX women rooting for her loudly on the sidelines.
"C'mon, SLUGGER! Kick that ball into it's happy spot NOW.
When they get back, we will go out for Chinese because they are from a tiny town in Iowa with no Chinese restaurants and Jessie thinks that Chinese buffets are gifts from babyHey ZeusJesus.
Then we all plan to go see Black Swan and then come home and the girls will turn on music videos and Jessie and I will sit in the kitchen and talk until she admits that she is jonesin for a cigarette. I will give her Socks to walk and she will go out and sneak a smoke and walk the dog and come back smelling like a cigarette and none of us will comment.
Tomorrow, we get to go to a stranger's house and pick up a dining room set that Jessie bought on Craig's List.
And then they will leave and the house will feel so quiet. Bing will grin at me and tell me that Jessie and I have the exact same voice, the same walk, the same inflections when we talk and that we all have that McGuire witch's chin. All of my sisters and me.
Jessie will leave a bag of stupid bodice ripper books for me and I will send her home with a bunch of books that she will find incredibly boring. But, we won't say this when we exchange the books.
Jessie and I will hug as we walk arm in arm to the car and then one of us (probably her, I'm not afuckin' freakin' crybaby) will start to cry for some silly reason and we will hold each other for a long moment. I will whisper, "Goodbye, Salt" and she will whisper back, "Goodbye, Pepper" because we always do this. We will kiss each other on the lips because other than Bing...my sisters and my daughter are the only people that I do that with. Ever.
Liv and I will wave until their car is out of sight.
And before I am back in the house, my cell phone will vibrate against my back jean pocket and it will be Jessie.
Her text will say something like, "God, u r such a shameless sap!"
I will text back something like, "God, u r such a dumb ass...now stop texting and driving. BAD MOTHER ROLE MODEL!"
And when she gets back to Iowa, she will text again.
It will say, "Home again. I had fun, sis. I miss you. So much. I love you more than ten moons."
This is a family saying.
I will text back that I love her that much too.
And I will miss her all night.
She went to a Joan Jett concert, though and brought me back home a cd to apologize after she drunk texted me this:
I am having a debate with Tish (our niece) about you lezzies. Are you into big tits? Because we both admit that Joan is freakin' hot and we would do her. But, Tish has those big gazoombas and thanks to the big C, I have none. Would she do me anyway? Do big tits matter or not so much with lezzie girls?
My phone was shut off the night, so I didn't see it until the next day or I would have a lot to say to her....
She raised three fantastic daughters.
When I was so sick a year or so ago, she sent me so many books that I may never run out. The problem, of course, was that they were RELIGIOUS tomes about praying and healing so I didn't read even one of them.
When FRINGE is on, she calls me during commercials and we discuss the plot and when the commercial is over we make stupid kissy noises into the phone and say, "Love you, sis!"
She made me laugh so hard once that beer came out of my nose when she told me that she couldn't eat cheerios anymore because they just smell like pee...didn't I think so?
And the thing is...now whenever I eat cheerios, I think to myself that they DO smell like pee.
I once called her a dumb as a doorknob douche bag because had the nerve to park in my driveway with an anti Obama sticker on her car.
She once threatened to come over to my house and slap me when she found out that I read tarot cards for her daughter. ("Tarot cards are the devil's toys, Maria! How could you subject my CHILD to such an evil thing?")
She makes my hair look fuckin' gorgeous but I can't say
She thinks I have a "potty mouth."
She once told me that giving her husband head is okay with Jesus as long as she doesn't let him come in her mouth because "sex is only to be used to procreate." I jokingly told her that I don't let Bing come in my mouth either and I think she believed me but she just frowned and said, "Maria, I love you but I really can't listen to that sinful stuff, okay?" And I retorted with, "I love you too, Jess, but I really can't listen to you talking about giving Dwayne head either because it makes me want to throw up."
She admitted to me that she and my other sisters once baptized Liv when she was an infant when I was out of the room because they wanted to be sure that she didn't go to hell if she died young. I was pissed off at first, but then I calmed down. It didn't harm my child and it gave them peace. So...no big deal.
She smokes but won't admit it. She has only smoked pot once and that was when she was so nauseated from her chemo treatments that I went out and bought some and talked her into smoking a joint with me to help her feel better. We had the best talk of our lives after smoking that joint and we also ate an entire pan of brownies. Because of that talk, we are closer and at every family get-together we make time to find a big bed to lay on together and just talk about things, holding hands.
She wears the same size dress that I do, but has bigger feet.
So...it is always nice to see her. She and Bing get along like gangbusters and I have no idea why since Jessie is the sort of person that Bing usually rolls her eyes at. I think maybe it is because they are both teachers.
She and her daughters will sleep in our attic and downstairs guest rooms. They will get up at the crack of dawn and make pancakes for Liv. Liv will get to hang with her favorite girl cousins (ages 13, 16 and 19) and go shopping with them. Liv will come home with a new outfit because Jessie loves buying her frilly girl clothes and Liv is too tenderhearted to tell her that she really hardly ever wears dresses.
In fact, they are shopping right now as I speak. They went to Liv's soccer game with me and Bing and Liv flushed prettily as she had SIX women rooting for her loudly on the sidelines.
"C'mon, SLUGGER! Kick that ball into it's happy spot NOW.
When they get back, we will go out for Chinese because they are from a tiny town in Iowa with no Chinese restaurants and Jessie thinks that Chinese buffets are gifts from baby
Then we all plan to go see Black Swan and then come home and the girls will turn on music videos and Jessie and I will sit in the kitchen and talk until she admits that she is jonesin for a cigarette. I will give her Socks to walk and she will go out and sneak a smoke and walk the dog and come back smelling like a cigarette and none of us will comment.
Tomorrow, we get to go to a stranger's house and pick up a dining room set that Jessie bought on Craig's List.
And then they will leave and the house will feel so quiet. Bing will grin at me and tell me that Jessie and I have the exact same voice, the same walk, the same inflections when we talk and that we all have that McGuire witch's chin. All of my sisters and me.
Jessie will leave a bag of stupid bodice ripper books for me and I will send her home with a bunch of books that she will find incredibly boring. But, we won't say this when we exchange the books.
Jessie and I will hug as we walk arm in arm to the car and then one of us (probably her, I'm not a
Liv and I will wave until their car is out of sight.
And before I am back in the house, my cell phone will vibrate against my back jean pocket and it will be Jessie.
Her text will say something like, "God, u r such a shameless sap!"
I will text back something like, "God, u r such a dumb ass...now stop texting and driving. BAD MOTHER ROLE MODEL!"
And when she gets back to Iowa, she will text again.
It will say, "Home again. I had fun, sis. I miss you. So much. I love you more than ten moons."
This is a family saying.
I will text back that I love her that much too.
And I will miss her all night.
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