Tonight I got ambitious, and actually cooked dinner, instead of making a sandwich, AND I made a dessert thingie, AND I got tomorrow night's dinner into the crockpot so that in the morning I just have to take it out of the refrigerator, put it into the electric part of the crockpot, and turn it on. Wanna know what we had/are having?
Tonight's dinner was a chicken stir-fry.
2 teaspoons sesame oil blend
1 cup thinly sliced shiitake mushrooms
3 cloves garlic, pressed
1 bag washed baby spinach
1 8-oz can sliced water chestnuts, drained
1 8-oz can sliced bamboo shoots, drained
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1 cup shredded or diced cooked chicken breast
Heat the oil in a wok or large skillet. Stir-fry the mushrooms and garlic until the mushrooms are wilted. Add the spinach, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots. Stir-fry until the spinach is partially wilted. Sprinkle the sugar and soy sauce over the mixture, and stir until the sugar dissolves. Remove the vegetables with a slotted spoon, leaving the liquid in the pan. Add the chicken and cook until the chicken is heated through. Return the vegetables to the pan and continue cooking until the spinach is the level of wilted that you like. It makes 2 large servings or 4 smaller servings; it's 2 points per smaller serving. I started some rice in the rice cooker about 15 minutes before I started this, and had it over a cup of rice. Very tasty.
The dessert thingie is a recipe I found on the WW boards. It's called caramel apple salad, but I have no idea why because it doesn't taste like caramel. It's good, just not caramel-y.
1 tub Cool Whip Free
1 20-oz can crushed pineapple, undrained
3-4 apples, diced
1 packet sugar-free fat-free butterscotch pudding mix
Put the pineapple in a bowl before you start chopping the apples. As you chop the apples, drop them into the pineapple and stir them up so they don't oxidize. After all the apples are chopped and stirred in with the pineapple, stir in the packet of pudding mix. Then fold in the Cool Whip. If you're doing WW, it's 2 points for a cup. It tastes really good. If you don't care about points or if you feel like spending them on it, adding a little coconut would be really good with this as well.
And tomorrow night's dinner is split pea soup. Why I'm making split pea soup in August in Texas is beyond me. Can I just plead that I'm ready for autumn, and leave it at that?
1 16-oz bag of split peas, rinsed, picked through, and drained
4 cups water
3 carrots, scraped and sliced
3 stalks celery, sliced
1-2 oz Canadian bacon, diced
1 can chicken broth
Dump everything into the slow cooker and heat it at low for 8-10 hours. It's 2 points per cup if you're counting points. If you're not counting or if you have points to spare, throw in a few chopped potatoes as well. Before serving, if you want to, take out about half of the soup and puree it, and then stir it back in with the remainder of the soup.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Friday, August 04, 2006
That's Just the Way It Is
"I guess she was just born that way."
"Right."
Oh gosh--I hate it when he does his Dr. Evil impression. "So you don't believe me."
"No, not so much."
"Well, then I don't think we really have much else to talk about, do we?" I'm going to smack the shit out of him in a minute, if he doesn't shut up!
"You mean, let's just agree to disagree?" He raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at me.
"No. I mean you're an asshole! You're calling her a liar, you're calling me a liar, and you think you're so perfect and you think you know everything but you don't!" I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet back into my shoes, and picked up my purse. "I'm leaving."
He blocked my way. "No. Don't go."
"Damn it, get out of my way!" I tried to force my way past him, but he wouldn't let me go.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry!"
"Yes, I am. I know you love her. I just don't understand why."
"Because she's my sister, damnit! Do you stop loving people when they hurt you, when they let you down? No! You don't. And neither do I!"
"But I saw a long time ago what she was like. I knew then that she was going to turn out bad. And you didn't listen to me. If you'd listened to me--"
"It's too late for that, isn't it? And besides, she's my sister. I was not going to turn my back on her. I couldn't. I had to believe that she could change, even though I knew it probably wouldn't happen. I hoped she would change. I hoped that moving out here, getting away from her old associations, leaving her baggage behind would help her. I can't change it, and I wouldn't do something different even if I could. Now get the hell out of my way!"
He still didn't move.
I saw the skepticism in his eyes, and it made me even madder. "I know you don't believe in all my social work bullshit, but you're wrong. Her mother was a drug addicted whore. She was a crack baby. She was moved around arbitrarily from one person to another until Mom and T adopted her when she was 5 or 6. That would mess any kid up! And I think she was sexually molested."
He rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's been sexually molested."
"No I don't, but I know that it happens a hell of a lot more often than you think. And I have good reason to think she was. The point is, what happens to a child drastically impacts the adult he or she becomes."
"But she knew right from wrong."
"Yes, she did, and she thought she was born wrong and couldn't ever be fixed. She thought she was a bad person no matter what. She thought there was nothing she could do to really change. She saw all the disapproval from the people who should have tried to lift her up, and she did her best to satisfy them and herself in the belief that she was bad. But she wasn't!"
"You know what she did."
"I know what people believe she did. I know what she has told me. And yes, I know that 98% of what came out of her mouth was nothing but lies. But no one knows what really happened. Only she does. And I'd rather give her the benefit of the doubt. I love her, damnit! She's my sister. She always will be, and I'm not giving up on her now!" I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. "We've had this exact same conversation a hundred times since she died. I'm through with it. I don't want to talk about her with you. You don't get it, and you don't get me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for loving my sister."
"I loved her too!"
"I know you did. But you've got to forgive her, and let yourself love her again."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"I know. That's why I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"
He paused for a moment, and then said, "Okay."
******
This is a fictionalized account of the discussions my husband and I have had since A. died in January. He doesn't imitate Dr. Evil--thank heavens! We talk about this a lot less often than we used to. Perhaps we have just agreed to disagree. I don't care. She's my sister. I hate what she did to herself, but I will never stop loving her.
"Right."
Oh gosh--I hate it when he does his Dr. Evil impression. "So you don't believe me."
"No, not so much."
"Well, then I don't think we really have much else to talk about, do we?" I'm going to smack the shit out of him in a minute, if he doesn't shut up!
"You mean, let's just agree to disagree?" He raised one eyebrow and looked down his nose at me.
"No. I mean you're an asshole! You're calling her a liar, you're calling me a liar, and you think you're so perfect and you think you know everything but you don't!" I grabbed my keys, shoved my feet back into my shoes, and picked up my purse. "I'm leaving."
He blocked my way. "No. Don't go."
"Damn it, get out of my way!" I tried to force my way past him, but he wouldn't let me go.
"I'm sorry."
"You're not sorry!"
"Yes, I am. I know you love her. I just don't understand why."
"Because she's my sister, damnit! Do you stop loving people when they hurt you, when they let you down? No! You don't. And neither do I!"
"But I saw a long time ago what she was like. I knew then that she was going to turn out bad. And you didn't listen to me. If you'd listened to me--"
"It's too late for that, isn't it? And besides, she's my sister. I was not going to turn my back on her. I couldn't. I had to believe that she could change, even though I knew it probably wouldn't happen. I hoped she would change. I hoped that moving out here, getting away from her old associations, leaving her baggage behind would help her. I can't change it, and I wouldn't do something different even if I could. Now get the hell out of my way!"
He still didn't move.
I saw the skepticism in his eyes, and it made me even madder. "I know you don't believe in all my social work bullshit, but you're wrong. Her mother was a drug addicted whore. She was a crack baby. She was moved around arbitrarily from one person to another until Mom and T adopted her when she was 5 or 6. That would mess any kid up! And I think she was sexually molested."
He rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's been sexually molested."
"No I don't, but I know that it happens a hell of a lot more often than you think. And I have good reason to think she was. The point is, what happens to a child drastically impacts the adult he or she becomes."
"But she knew right from wrong."
"Yes, she did, and she thought she was born wrong and couldn't ever be fixed. She thought she was a bad person no matter what. She thought there was nothing she could do to really change. She saw all the disapproval from the people who should have tried to lift her up, and she did her best to satisfy them and herself in the belief that she was bad. But she wasn't!"
"You know what she did."
"I know what people believe she did. I know what she has told me. And yes, I know that 98% of what came out of her mouth was nothing but lies. But no one knows what really happened. Only she does. And I'd rather give her the benefit of the doubt. I love her, damnit! She's my sister. She always will be, and I'm not giving up on her now!" I sank down onto the bed, exhausted. "We've had this exact same conversation a hundred times since she died. I'm through with it. I don't want to talk about her with you. You don't get it, and you don't get me. I'm tired of feeling guilty for loving my sister."
"I loved her too!"
"I know you did. But you've got to forgive her, and let yourself love her again."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"I know. That's why I don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"
He paused for a moment, and then said, "Okay."
******
This is a fictionalized account of the discussions my husband and I have had since A. died in January. He doesn't imitate Dr. Evil--thank heavens! We talk about this a lot less often than we used to. Perhaps we have just agreed to disagree. I don't care. She's my sister. I hate what she did to herself, but I will never stop loving her.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Yet another meme . . .
Eventually I'll have something to write about. In the meantime, these are slightly amusing!
FOOD-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Litehouse Bleu Cheese
What is your favourite fast food restaurant? Jason's Deli, if that counts. If not, probably Chick-Fil-A.
What is your favourite sit down restaurant? El Rancho Grande, in the Stockyards in Fort Worth
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? Usually around 20%, but it goes up or down depending on the service and my budget.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Cheese enchiladas. I don't, of course, but I love 'em!
Name three foods you detest above all others. Stewed okra, eggplant, and crab.
What is your favourite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Broccoli beef or beef lo mein
What are your pizza toppings of choice? Black olives, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes
What do you like to put on your toast? Butter, sometimes honey or sometimes jam or jelly.
What is your favourite type of gum? Cinnamon
TECHN-OLOGY
Number of contacts in your mobile phone? 26, although a few of those were temporary things I stored and never got around to deleting.
Number of contacts in your email address book? 28, but gmail saves the addresses of everyone I write. I go in periodically and delete the ones that I don't recognize or no longer use.
What is your wallpaper on your computer? The pyramids at Giza
What is your screensaver on your computer? A slideshow of modern art.
Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? No way!
How many land line phones do you have in your house? None
How many televisions are in your house? Three, which sounds silly since there are only two of us. But there's one in the guest room, one in the front room, and Joe keeps one in his music room for when he's studying music DVDs/videos.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least? That would have to be the Fry-Daddy I bought 5 or 6 years ago and never used.
What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? Alternative
BI-OLOGY
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes
Are you right handed or left handed? Right-handed
Do you like your smile? No, not really. I think my mouth is too small, and I've got bad teeth.
Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Some teeth, some ova (IVF in summer of 2000), approximately 5 pounds of mammary tissue (breast reduction in spring of 2001), and my uterus and ovaries and a lot of adhesions (total hysterectomy in winter of 2003).
Would you like to? Well, a lot of extra poundage, but I'll remove that myself without surgical assistance.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Yes.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? touch
When was the last time you had a cavity? I don't know--don't visit the dentist too often.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? Besides my backside out of the chair? I don't know.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Nope.
MISC-OLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No. I'm not the type of person who could know that information and not totally obsess on it. I'd rather live each day as it comes.
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? I did. I went from Virginia (called Ginny) to Faith. I didn't change it legally, but for all intents and purposes I think of myself as Faith.
How do you express your artistic side? Through writing and interior decorating.
What color do you think you look best in? Brown
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I don't know. My first instinct is to say "not long." However, if I have learned anything, I have learned that I can do just about anything that I have to.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? By mistake? No. When I was a kid, I swallowed anything and everything that came my way, including blue paint from the trashcan of the neighbors who were moving away; a can of melted paste floor wax; my mother's supply of birth control pills; and my aunt's supply of morning sickness pills. Yeah, I had my stomach pumped frequently.
If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? Nope.
How often do you go to church? Not as often as I should. If you've been following along in my blog, you already know some of the reasons why. It's not something I like about myself, but I'm just not there yet.
Have you ever saved someone’s life? No.
Has someone ever saved yours? No.
DARE-OLOGY
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? I really don't think so, but one never knows.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? No--I only kiss my husband and my dog.
Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? No. I'll remain faithful to my husband. This question reminds me of the man who asked a woman if she'd have sex with him for $50,000. She said yes. Then he asked if she'd do it for $5. Very insulted, she said, "What kind of a woman do you think I am?" He responded, "We've already established what kind of woman you are. Now we're negotiating the price."
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? Definitely not.
Would you never blog again for $50,000? Sure. Any offers?
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? Nope.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If by hot sauce you mean salsa, perhaps. It would depend on the heat of said salsa. If you mean Tobasco sauce, there is absolutely no way!
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? Absolutely not! My beliefs about the sanctity of life are not attached to money.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No. I wouldn't mind shaving my head, and shaving my entire body. But waxing hurts too much.
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Yes.
FOOD-OLOGY
What is your salad dressing of choice? Litehouse Bleu Cheese
What is your favourite fast food restaurant? Jason's Deli, if that counts. If not, probably Chick-Fil-A.
What is your favourite sit down restaurant? El Rancho Grande, in the Stockyards in Fort Worth
On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? Usually around 20%, but it goes up or down depending on the service and my budget.
What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Cheese enchiladas. I don't, of course, but I love 'em!
Name three foods you detest above all others. Stewed okra, eggplant, and crab.
What is your favourite dish to order in a Chinese restaurant? Broccoli beef or beef lo mein
What are your pizza toppings of choice? Black olives, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes
What do you like to put on your toast? Butter, sometimes honey or sometimes jam or jelly.
What is your favourite type of gum? Cinnamon
TECHN-OLOGY
Number of contacts in your mobile phone? 26, although a few of those were temporary things I stored and never got around to deleting.
Number of contacts in your email address book? 28, but gmail saves the addresses of everyone I write. I go in periodically and delete the ones that I don't recognize or no longer use.
What is your wallpaper on your computer? The pyramids at Giza
What is your screensaver on your computer? A slideshow of modern art.
Are there naked pictures saved on your computer? No way!
How many land line phones do you have in your house? None
How many televisions are in your house? Three, which sounds silly since there are only two of us. But there's one in the guest room, one in the front room, and Joe keeps one in his music room for when he's studying music DVDs/videos.
What kitchen appliance do you use the least? That would have to be the Fry-Daddy I bought 5 or 6 years ago and never used.
What is the format of the radio station you listen to the most? Alternative
BI-OLOGY
What do you consider to be your best physical attribute? My eyes
Are you right handed or left handed? Right-handed
Do you like your smile? No, not really. I think my mouth is too small, and I've got bad teeth.
Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Some teeth, some ova (IVF in summer of 2000), approximately 5 pounds of mammary tissue (breast reduction in spring of 2001), and my uterus and ovaries and a lot of adhesions (total hysterectomy in winter of 2003).
Would you like to? Well, a lot of extra poundage, but I'll remove that myself without surgical assistance.
Do you prefer to read when you go to the bathroom? Yes.
Which of your five senses do you think is keenest? touch
When was the last time you had a cavity? I don't know--don't visit the dentist too often.
What is the heaviest item you lift regularly? Besides my backside out of the chair? I don't know.
Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Nope.
MISC-OLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No. I'm not the type of person who could know that information and not totally obsess on it. I'd rather live each day as it comes.
If you could change your first name, what would you change it to? I did. I went from Virginia (called Ginny) to Faith. I didn't change it legally, but for all intents and purposes I think of myself as Faith.
How do you express your artistic side? Through writing and interior decorating.
What color do you think you look best in? Brown
How long do you think you could last in a medium security prison? I don't know. My first instinct is to say "not long." However, if I have learned anything, I have learned that I can do just about anything that I have to.
Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? By mistake? No. When I was a kid, I swallowed anything and everything that came my way, including blue paint from the trashcan of the neighbors who were moving away; a can of melted paste floor wax; my mother's supply of birth control pills; and my aunt's supply of morning sickness pills. Yeah, I had my stomach pumped frequently.
If we weren’t bound by society’s conventions, do you have a relative you would make a pass at? Nope.
How often do you go to church? Not as often as I should. If you've been following along in my blog, you already know some of the reasons why. It's not something I like about myself, but I'm just not there yet.
Have you ever saved someone’s life? No.
Has someone ever saved yours? No.
DARE-OLOGY
Would you walk naked for a half mile down a public street for $100,000? I really don't think so, but one never knows.
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? No--I only kiss my husband and my dog.
Would you have sex with a member of the same sex for $10,000? No. I'll remain faithful to my husband. This question reminds me of the man who asked a woman if she'd have sex with him for $50,000. She said yes. Then he asked if she'd do it for $5. Very insulted, she said, "What kind of a woman do you think I am?" He responded, "We've already established what kind of woman you are. Now we're negotiating the price."
Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? Definitely not.
Would you never blog again for $50,000? Sure. Any offers?
Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? Nope.
Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? If by hot sauce you mean salsa, perhaps. It would depend on the heat of said salsa. If you mean Tobasco sauce, there is absolutely no way!
Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? Absolutely not! My beliefs about the sanctity of life are not attached to money.
Would you shave your head and get your entire body waxed for $5,000? No. I wouldn't mind shaving my head, and shaving my entire body. But waxing hurts too much.
Would you give up watching television for a year for $25,000? Yes.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Tuesday is Chooseday
- Would you rather:
- bathe in a pool of dog drool OR be sprayed down with fire hose? Ugh!!! Um, I guess be sprayed down with a fire hose, although that would be painful, because dog drool, as much as I love my dog, is something I find exceedingly nasty.
- live in a house where everything is sticky OR that smells like rotting trash? Sticky, no question about it.
- sit under a tanning lamp for 12 hours OR live in a 90 degree house with no air conditioning for three weeks? I'd take the 90 degree house with no a/c--melanoma runs in my family!
- eat 24 popsicles in a row OR stand in a restaurant walk-in freezer for an hour? I think I'd do the popsicles, as long as I don't have to scarf them so fast I get brainfreeze.
Monday, July 31, 2006
A.) Go to musicoutfitters.com
B.) Enter the year you graduated from high school in the search function and get the list of 100 most popular songs of that year
C.) Bold the songs you like, strike through the ones you hate and underline your favorite. Do nothing to the ones you don’t remember (or don’t care about).
I changed the rules just a titch. I'm bolding the ones I liked then and like now, and I'm italicizing the ones I liked then but don't care about now.
Top 100 Hits of 1981
B.) Enter the year you graduated from high school in the search function and get the list of 100 most popular songs of that year
C.) Bold the songs you like, strike through the ones you hate and underline your favorite. Do nothing to the ones you don’t remember (or don’t care about).
I changed the rules just a titch. I'm bolding the ones I liked then and like now, and I'm italicizing the ones I liked then but don't care about now.
Top 100 Hits of 1981
- Bette Davis Eyes, Kim Carnes
- Endless Love, Diana Ross and Lionel Richie
- Lady, Kenny Rogers
- (Just Like) Starting Over, John Lennon
- Jessie's Girl, Rick Springfield
- Celebration, Kool and The Gang
- Kiss On My List, Daryl Hall and John Oates
- I Love a Rainy Night, Eddie Rabbitt
- 9 to 5, Dolly Parton
- Keep on Loving You, REO Speedwagon
- Theme from "Greatest American Hero", Joey Scarbury
- Morning Train (Nine to Five), Sheena Easton
- Being With You, Smokey Robinson
- Queen of Hearts, Juice Newton
- Rapture, Blondie
- A Woman Needs Love, Ray Parker Jr. and Raydio
- The Tide is High, Blondie
- Just the Two of Us, Grover Washington Jr.
- Slow Hand, Pointer Sisters
- I Love You, Climax Blues Band
- Woman, John Lennon
- Sukiyaki, A Taste of Honey
- The Winner Takes It All, Abba
- Medley, Stars on 45
- Angel of the Morning, Juice Newton
- Love on the Rocks, Neil Diamond - I can't figure out how to strike through, but I HATE this one!
- Every Woman in the World, Air Supply
- The One that You Love, Air Supply
- Guilty, Barbra Streisand and Barry Gibb - I can't figure out how to strike through, but I HATE this one!
- The Best of Times, Styx
- Elvira, Oak Ridge Boys
- Take it on the Run, REO Speedwagon
- No Gettin' Over Me, Ronnie Milsap
- Living Outside Myself, Gino Vannelli
- Woman in Love, Barbra Streisand - I can't figure out how to strike through, but I HATE this one!
- Boy from New York City, Manhattan Transfer
- Urgent, Foreigner
- Passion, Rod Stewart
- Lady (You Bring Me Up), Commodores
- Crying, Don McLean
- Hearts, Marty Balin
- It's My Turn, Diana Ross
- You Make My Dreams, Daryl Hall and John Oates
- I Don't Need You, Kenny Rogers
- How 'Bout Us, Champaign
- Hit Me With Your Best Shot, Pat Benatar. THIS ONE'S PROBABLY MY FAVORITE FROM THIS LIST.
- The Breakup Song, Greg Kihn Band
- Time, Alan Parsons Project
- Hungry Heart, Bruce Springsteen
- Sweetheart, Frankie and the Knockouts
- Someone's Knockin', Terri Gibbs
- More Than I Can Say, Leo Sayer
- Together, Tierra
- Too Much Time on My Hands, Styx
- What Are We Doin' in Love, Dottie West
- Who's Crying Now, Journey
- De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da, Police
- This Little Girl, Gary U.S. Bonds
- Stop Draggin' My Heart Around, Stevie Nicks with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
- Giving It Up for Your Love, Delbert McClinton
- A Little in Love, Cliff Richard
- America, Neil Diamond
- Ain't Even Done with the Night, John Cougar
- Arthur's Theme, Christopher Cross
- Another One Bites the Dust, Queen
- Games People Play, Alan Parsons Project
- I Can't Stand It, Eric Clapton
- While You See a Chance, Steve Winwood
- Master Blaster, Stevie Wonder
- Hello Again, Neil Diamond
- Don't Stand So Close to Me, Police
- Hey Nineteen, Steely Dan
- I Ain't Gonna Stand for It, Stevie Wonder
- All Those Years Ago, George Harrison
- Step by Step, Eddie Rabbitt
- The Stroke, Billy Squier
- Feels So Right, Alabama
- Sweet Baby, Stanley Clarke and George Duke
- Same Old Lang Syne, Dan Fogelberg
- Cool Love, Pablo Cruise
- Hold On Tight, ELO
- It's Now or Never, John Schneider
- Treat Me Right, Pat Benatar
- Winning, Santana
- What Kind of Fool, Barbra Streisand and Barry Gibb - I can't figure out how to strike through, but I HATE this one!
- Watching the Wheels, John Lennon
- Tell It Like It Is, Heart
- Smoky Mountain Rain, Ronnie Milsap
- I Made It Through the Rain, Barry Manilow
- You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin', Daryl Hall and John Oates
- Suddenly, Olivia Newton-John and Cliff Richard
- For Your Eyes Only, Sheena Easton
- The Beach Boys Medley, Beach Boys
- Whip It, Devo
- Modern Girl, Sheena Easton
- Really Wanna Know You, Gary Wright
- Seven Year Ache, Roseanne Cash
- I'm Coming Out, Diana Ross
- Miss Sun, Boz Scaggs
- Time is Time, Andy Gibb
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Unconscious Mutterings
- Italy :: Rome. I took an awesome class in the history of ancient Rome several years back, as a result of having been fascinated by Rome since I was a kid. I loved it. Still do, and still read up on it every chance I get.
- Honk :: Geese. Why geese? I'm not sure, except they have the most raucous honk I've ever heard, far less irritating than the honk of the guy behind me because I didn't start driving the second the light turned green despite the fact that the guy in front of me didn't start driving the second the light turned green.
- Shades :: Cool. "My future's so bright I've got to wear shades." And isn't it funny how that song gets associated with coolness, bright outlooks, etc., when it's really about the world suffering a holocaust meltdown of Biblical proportions?
- Tool :: Screwdriver. So what does this mean? I don't get enough sex? I don't, but that's another story and one that's far too private to share here.
- Modern :: Art. I love modern art. I have postcard sized Picasso prints hanging up around my cube at work. I'm trying to find a postcard book of Kandinsky as well. And yet my calendar at work is of Pre-Raphaelite works, which I also love. Go figure.
- Tension :: Stress. I don't like stress. I can feel it knotting up in my shoulders, making my head pound, until I just want to scream until everyone around me shuts up and stops talking about money and war and hatred and murder and child abuse.
- Conservative :: Bush. I used to be a Conservative, politically. But I have too many questions that they don't answer satisfactorily. I'm not a Liberal either. I just think for myself. Makes voting difficult, but there you have it. And by the way, if you're in Texas, just know that I have decided to vote for Kinky Friedman for governor. Go Kinky!
- Weight :: Losing. How mundane is that? And yet this morning when I got dressed, I realized that I am getting smaller. It's not enough yet that anyone else would notice, but I notice, and it feels good.
- Insurance :: Ripoff. I get irate to think of how much money we have paid out in auto insurance over the years. We've filed only two claims on our own insurance. One was for towing, and one was for a minor fender-bender that ended up getting dropped because the other party ended up not pursuing the issue. So why is it that legally you are required to have insurance, yet if you use it, presumably for the purposes for which you are required to have it, you can then either get charged ever higher rates or else you can get dropped? That's reprehensible. And why do you have to pay higher rates if your credit sucks? That's reprehensible as well. My need for insurance has nothing to do with my credit score.
- Political :: Tool. Too many people in public office seem to be tools of their political parties and care too little in reality for the people who voted them in. Well, let me be more specific. They care too little for the powerless people who voted them in. The people with the money and the power get kowtowed to as always. In the words of the Kingston Trio, "what nature doesn't do to us will be done by our fellow man."
Friday, July 28, 2006
My Pirate Name
Introducing:
Mad Charity Read!
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!
Okay, yeah, lame, I know, but hey! It's Friday and I'm tired. I'm planning a VeronicaMarsithon to finish up season 1. And I've already got season 2 on my Netflix queue, and hope to get it quickly once it's released. Why did no one tell me about Veronica Mars????
Mad Charity Read!
Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. Even through many pirates have a reputation for not being the brightest souls on earth, you defy the sterotypes. You've got taste and education. Arr!
Okay, yeah, lame, I know, but hey! It's Friday and I'm tired. I'm planning a VeronicaMarsithon to finish up season 1. And I've already got season 2 on my Netflix queue, and hope to get it quickly once it's released. Why did no one tell me about Veronica Mars????
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Meaningful Mix CD
What songs would you have on your personal "meaningful mix" CD? Here are the questions (along with my answers).
1) A favorite political track.
The Man Who Never Returned - by the Kingston Trio
2) One of those tracks that make you dance on the dancefloor no matter what.
This is embarrassing, but Pump Up the Jam - Technotronic
3) The song you’d use to tell someone you love them.
I Will Be Right Here Waiting for You - Richard Marx
4) A song that has made you sit down and analyze its lyrics.
Biko - Peter Gabriel
5) A song that you like, that a two year old would like as well.
The Rubber Duckie Song - Ernie (Sesame Street)
6) A song that gives you an energy boost.
Ballroom Blitz - Sweet
7) A song that you and your grandparents (would probably) like.
Mambo Italiano - Bette Midler
8) A song that you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now.
You're in My Heart - Rod Stewart. I melt every time I hear this one!
9) A sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life.
Don't Give Up - Peter Gabriel
10) A peppy song that would start the opening credits of the movie about your life.
Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder
11) A good song from a genre of music that no one would guess that you liked.
Fibre de Verre - Paris Combo
12) A song that you think should have been playing when you were born.
Hey, Good-Lookin' - Hank Williams
13) A favorite artist duo collaboration.
Roxanne '97 - Puff Daddy, Sting
14) A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally, commonsenically,
religiously etc.)
I Won't Tell No One Your Name - GooGoo Dolls. I disagree with this from a grammatical standpoint. Yes, I'm pedantic. Deal with it!
15) The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it.
Fat Bottom Girls - Queen
16) Your smooth song, for relaxing.
Stormy Weather - Joe Sample
17) A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at.
Run, Shithead, Run - Mudhoney
18) A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group.”
Paperback Writer - Beatles
19) A song that makes you reminsce about good times with a family member.
Wild Thing - The Troggs.
20) Your favorite song at this moment in time.
It's a tie, both songs by the Dandy Warhols. We Used to be Friends and Bohemian Like You.
For me, this was a little tougher than I thought it would be, but fun. I think I'm going to have to make this mix CD! And I'm tagging you, Trista and Clover!
1) A favorite political track.
The Man Who Never Returned - by the Kingston Trio
2) One of those tracks that make you dance on the dancefloor no matter what.
This is embarrassing, but Pump Up the Jam - Technotronic
3) The song you’d use to tell someone you love them.
I Will Be Right Here Waiting for You - Richard Marx
4) A song that has made you sit down and analyze its lyrics.
Biko - Peter Gabriel
5) A song that you like, that a two year old would like as well.
The Rubber Duckie Song - Ernie (Sesame Street)
6) A song that gives you an energy boost.
Ballroom Blitz - Sweet
7) A song that you and your grandparents (would probably) like.
Mambo Italiano - Bette Midler
8) A song that you really liked when you were 14-16, and still really like now.
You're in My Heart - Rod Stewart. I melt every time I hear this one!
9) A sad song that would be in the soundtrack of the movie about your life.
Don't Give Up - Peter Gabriel
10) A peppy song that would start the opening credits of the movie about your life.
Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder
11) A good song from a genre of music that no one would guess that you liked.
Fibre de Verre - Paris Combo
12) A song that you think should have been playing when you were born.
Hey, Good-Lookin' - Hank Williams
13) A favorite artist duo collaboration.
Roxanne '97 - Puff Daddy, Sting
14) A favorite song that you completely disagree with (politically, morally, commonsenically,
religiously etc.)
I Won't Tell No One Your Name - GooGoo Dolls. I disagree with this from a grammatical standpoint. Yes, I'm pedantic. Deal with it!
15) The song that you like despite the fact your IQ level drops several points every time you listen to it.
Fat Bottom Girls - Queen
16) Your smooth song, for relaxing.
Stormy Weather - Joe Sample
17) A song you would send to someone you hate or are mad at.
Run, Shithead, Run - Mudhoney
18) A favorite track from an outfit considered a “super-group.”
Paperback Writer - Beatles
19) A song that makes you reminsce about good times with a family member.
Wild Thing - The Troggs.
20) Your favorite song at this moment in time.
It's a tie, both songs by the Dandy Warhols. We Used to be Friends and Bohemian Like You.
For me, this was a little tougher than I thought it would be, but fun. I think I'm going to have to make this mix CD! And I'm tagging you, Trista and Clover!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
"Are You More?"
Are you more...
01) Banjo for the fun, danceable sound or violin for the soulful, spirit-lifting sound? Of the two, I prefer the violin to the banjo.
02) Bus/subway for cheapness and ecological responsibility or cab for door to door convenience? When I lived in Salt Lake City, I didn't have a car until after I was married, so this question I dealt with back then. I preferred the bus for cheapness the majority of the time. Of course, after I lugged home several bags full of groceries, including a heavy frozen turkey, only to have the bags split open and spill their contents over the grass as I exited the bus, I quickly learned to either walk or ride the bus to the grocery store, and take a taxi home.
03) Paper grocery bags for the capacity and biodegradableness or plastic grocery bags for the convenience and reusability? I like the paper grocery bags for the capacity, biodegradableness (is that even a word), AND the convenience and reusability. I loathe the plastic bags.
04) Liking fruit that you peel (bananas, oranges, etc.) or fruit that you don't peel (apples, pears, etc.)? I like both equally. I tend to eat at least one apple and one banana every day, as well as any other good fruit I can get my hands on. I LOVE cherries, even though I have to spit out the pits, and I LOVE canteloupe, even though I have to peel and cut it up.
05) Expensive 3-ply kleenex or discount 2-ply kleenex? I like the expensive 3-ply tissue with the lotion.
06) Super soft toilet paper to be cushy on your widdle bum or rough, no-nonsense toilet paper to be sure to get your dirty asshole clean? My house is more than 50 years old, which means my pipes are more than 50 years old. Give me the rough, no-nonsense toilet paper that doesn't clog the pipes!
07) Watching fake wrestling (WWE, for example) for the kitchy drama or watching real fighting (boxing, UFC, etc.) for the realness? Neither. Thanks.
08) Coy about telling people what you want when asked ("Oh I don't need anything.") or upfront about telling people what you want when asked ("I would LOVE a new watch.")? It depends upon who's doing the asking.
09) Believing NASA is amazing for inventing the Space Pen (works in no gravity) or believing NASA is stupid for not doing like the Russians who just use pencils? I believe NASA is amazing for all kinds of things, although the Space Pen isn't the feat I rank most highly.
10) A Spanky fan or an Alfalfa fan? Spanky, all the way. Although Alfalfa is cute!
01) Banjo for the fun, danceable sound or violin for the soulful, spirit-lifting sound? Of the two, I prefer the violin to the banjo.
02) Bus/subway for cheapness and ecological responsibility or cab for door to door convenience? When I lived in Salt Lake City, I didn't have a car until after I was married, so this question I dealt with back then. I preferred the bus for cheapness the majority of the time. Of course, after I lugged home several bags full of groceries, including a heavy frozen turkey, only to have the bags split open and spill their contents over the grass as I exited the bus, I quickly learned to either walk or ride the bus to the grocery store, and take a taxi home.
03) Paper grocery bags for the capacity and biodegradableness or plastic grocery bags for the convenience and reusability? I like the paper grocery bags for the capacity, biodegradableness (is that even a word), AND the convenience and reusability. I loathe the plastic bags.
04) Liking fruit that you peel (bananas, oranges, etc.) or fruit that you don't peel (apples, pears, etc.)? I like both equally. I tend to eat at least one apple and one banana every day, as well as any other good fruit I can get my hands on. I LOVE cherries, even though I have to spit out the pits, and I LOVE canteloupe, even though I have to peel and cut it up.
05) Expensive 3-ply kleenex or discount 2-ply kleenex? I like the expensive 3-ply tissue with the lotion.
06) Super soft toilet paper to be cushy on your widdle bum or rough, no-nonsense toilet paper to be sure to get your dirty asshole clean? My house is more than 50 years old, which means my pipes are more than 50 years old. Give me the rough, no-nonsense toilet paper that doesn't clog the pipes!
07) Watching fake wrestling (WWE, for example) for the kitchy drama or watching real fighting (boxing, UFC, etc.) for the realness? Neither. Thanks.
08) Coy about telling people what you want when asked ("Oh I don't need anything.") or upfront about telling people what you want when asked ("I would LOVE a new watch.")? It depends upon who's doing the asking.
09) Believing NASA is amazing for inventing the Space Pen (works in no gravity) or believing NASA is stupid for not doing like the Russians who just use pencils? I believe NASA is amazing for all kinds of things, although the Space Pen isn't the feat I rank most highly.
10) A Spanky fan or an Alfalfa fan? Spanky, all the way. Although Alfalfa is cute!
The Scheherazade Project
Collard Greens and the Boston Monkey
"Oh, my gosh! Would you look at this?" Lisa giggled as she handed the book to me.
"The Boston Monkey?" The old black-and-white photograph showed a group of teenagers contorting themselves in a most unnatural fashion. I started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"What do you think about when you think of Boston?"
"I dunno. Something really prim and prissy, I guess."
"Uh-huh. And what do you think about when you think of Henry Jacobs?"
Lisa started making that snorting noise that always comes out when she's trying not to laugh too loud, and we both exploded into furious laughter. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the library before the ancient librarian got a chance to tell us off for making so much noise.
It was 1976. Albany, Georgia. Henry Jacobs was the prim and prissy son of a local undertaker, and I found him utterly irresistible. Okay, so maybe he wasn't all that prim and prissy, but he always walked like he had a rod up his butt that extended to his head, holding his body in perfect alignment. I pretended to hate him hoping that no one would know how I felt, but I wasn't particularly successful.
For the rest of that year, Lisa and I whispered and giggled about the "Boston Monkey" whenever we talked about Henry, or whenever he was near.
Henry retaliated in his own unique fashion.
"Okay, I'll call Carey, and he'll call Henry," Lisa planned.
"And I'll call Tony and he'll call Bubba."
You probably remember how that went. Get a friend to get a friend to call the object of your crush. Said F-O-A-F would casually drop your name into the conversation to find out if you had any chance with your crush. Why do kids do that? It never ends well.
I called Tony, who called Bubba, who did indeed have the hots for Lisa. I eagerly called her to spread the good news. "Lise, it's me."
She said hello, but sounded subdued. My stomach sank to my toes. "What did he say?"
"Well, I guess Carey wasn't the best choice. He didn't hint around. He just called Henry and and asked what he thought of you."
"And he hates me," I said dully. Why did I do this? I'm so stupid!
"Well, he didn't say that." Lisa hesitated, obviously trying to find the most delicate way to tell me Henry's true feelings.
Oh no! Henry likes Lisa, and Lisa doesn't want to tell me! That's not fair! Lisa already has Bubba! What does she need with Henry? She's the worst friend ever! I'm never talking to her again! "So what did he say?"
"Well, he said that you smell like--" Lisa's voice trailed off.
"What? I smell like shit? Just tell me already!" I was relieved that at least Henry wasn't drooling over Lisa.
"Collard greens."
I sat there completely stunned. If I had known the expression back then, it would have been a WTF moment. "Collard greens?"
"Yeah."
"Guys suck, don't they?"
"Yeah, they sure do," Lisa sympathized.
I didn't want to tell her about Bubba, but I decided that would be mean of me. "Well, at least Bubba likes you."
"He does?" Lisa yelped. "You're kidding! Tell me you're kidding!"
"Nope. Not kidding. Honest injun." We could say stuff like that, in the days before political correctness.
Lisa didn't say anything for a minute. "You know, I saw Bubba picking his nose in history class yesterday. He had his head behind a book, and didn't think anybody saw him."
I laughed. "Really?"
"Really. Guys stink."
"They sure do," I agreed. I realized again what a good friend Lisa was.
"Wanna go look at that book again tomorrow? I bet we can find a good name for Bubba."
Girlfriends. There's nothing like 'em.
"Oh, my gosh! Would you look at this?" Lisa giggled as she handed the book to me.
"The Boston Monkey?" The old black-and-white photograph showed a group of teenagers contorting themselves in a most unnatural fashion. I started laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"What do you think about when you think of Boston?"
"I dunno. Something really prim and prissy, I guess."
"Uh-huh. And what do you think about when you think of Henry Jacobs?"
Lisa started making that snorting noise that always comes out when she's trying not to laugh too loud, and we both exploded into furious laughter. She grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the library before the ancient librarian got a chance to tell us off for making so much noise.
It was 1976. Albany, Georgia. Henry Jacobs was the prim and prissy son of a local undertaker, and I found him utterly irresistible. Okay, so maybe he wasn't all that prim and prissy, but he always walked like he had a rod up his butt that extended to his head, holding his body in perfect alignment. I pretended to hate him hoping that no one would know how I felt, but I wasn't particularly successful.
For the rest of that year, Lisa and I whispered and giggled about the "Boston Monkey" whenever we talked about Henry, or whenever he was near.
Henry retaliated in his own unique fashion.
"Okay, I'll call Carey, and he'll call Henry," Lisa planned.
"And I'll call Tony and he'll call Bubba."
You probably remember how that went. Get a friend to get a friend to call the object of your crush. Said F-O-A-F would casually drop your name into the conversation to find out if you had any chance with your crush. Why do kids do that? It never ends well.
I called Tony, who called Bubba, who did indeed have the hots for Lisa. I eagerly called her to spread the good news. "Lise, it's me."
She said hello, but sounded subdued. My stomach sank to my toes. "What did he say?"
"Well, I guess Carey wasn't the best choice. He didn't hint around. He just called Henry and and asked what he thought of you."
"And he hates me," I said dully. Why did I do this? I'm so stupid!
"Well, he didn't say that." Lisa hesitated, obviously trying to find the most delicate way to tell me Henry's true feelings.
Oh no! Henry likes Lisa, and Lisa doesn't want to tell me! That's not fair! Lisa already has Bubba! What does she need with Henry? She's the worst friend ever! I'm never talking to her again! "So what did he say?"
"Well, he said that you smell like--" Lisa's voice trailed off.
"What? I smell like shit? Just tell me already!" I was relieved that at least Henry wasn't drooling over Lisa.
"Collard greens."
I sat there completely stunned. If I had known the expression back then, it would have been a WTF moment. "Collard greens?"
"Yeah."
"Guys suck, don't they?"
"Yeah, they sure do," Lisa sympathized.
I didn't want to tell her about Bubba, but I decided that would be mean of me. "Well, at least Bubba likes you."
"He does?" Lisa yelped. "You're kidding! Tell me you're kidding!"
"Nope. Not kidding. Honest injun." We could say stuff like that, in the days before political correctness.
Lisa didn't say anything for a minute. "You know, I saw Bubba picking his nose in history class yesterday. He had his head behind a book, and didn't think anybody saw him."
I laughed. "Really?"
"Really. Guys stink."
"They sure do," I agreed. I realized again what a good friend Lisa was.
"Wanna go look at that book again tomorrow? I bet we can find a good name for Bubba."
Girlfriends. There's nothing like 'em.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
What's new?
Well, that's what's new, first of all. Yep, I did it. Went back to Weight Watchers. Love 'em or hate 'em, it's the only program that works for me. Somehow I'm just in the zone right now, and I have had no problems whatsoever. I've been exercising 3-6 times a week, losing weight, feeling good, moving on.
What else? I still haven't been hired by the company I'm temping at. The VP has told me that he's gotten approval to reclassify my job position, has told me how much money I'll be making, and has turned the paperwork in to HR. That was almost 3 weeks ago. I learned last Friday that HR is waiting on the president of the company to sign off on the offer before I can get hired. It astounds me that something as relatively insignificant as reclassifying a position has to go all the way to the president of the company. But work's going reasonably well, and it will be nice when I'm once again making something much more closely approximating a living wage.
And more good news; Clover sent a query to an agent, and was requested to send in more info and 30 pages of her manuscript. So keep your fingers crossed for her. Clover is a fantastic writer, who has consistently worked at her craft and who has some amazing stories to tell. She's also--outside of family--the best friend I've ever had in my life. If you know what a cool person she was, you'd be totally jealous of me. Neener-neener!
On the Sophie front, it turns out it's just as well that things turned out the way they did. My brother and his former-gf have split up, so even if the gf's daughter had been pregnant, I doubt that they would still be wanting us to adopt. Joe and I are trying to look at things positively, and just keep on with our lifelong honeymoon. It's still depressing at times, though, I must admit.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Some fun personality tests
I know, I know--I've been totally lame about updating. I'll try to do better. In the meantime, here are some glimpses into my personality!
| What Your Soul Really Looks Like |
 You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you as larger than life and important. While this is true, they also think you're a bit full of yourself. Your near future is still unknown, and a little scary. You'll get through wild times - and you'll textually enjoy it. For you, falling in love is all about the adventure and uncertainty. You can only fall in love with someone who keeps you guessing. |
| Your Brain's Pattern |
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Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Emptiness
The phone call, so unexpected. "My daughter's pregnant. Would you and your husband be interested in adopting the baby?"
I think I stammered out that we'd talk it over and call her back. I hung up the phone and turned to my husband. I'd barely gotten the words out of my mouth when he was saying, "Yes! Yes!"
In a curious little twist of fate, we were in the car, on our way to Carrabbas, where we were to meet family. It was Father's Day. We barely gave Dad time to sit down before we asked if he wanted to be a grandfather. It was one of those "duh" questions, even though he and the Monster expressed their concerns about the situation.
By the time I went to bed on Sunday night, I knew it was a girl, had picked out her name (Sophie Helene), and had begun thinking about how to decorate her room. By noon on Monday I'd allowed myself to blissfully browse the baby sections at several online stores. By the time I left work that afternoon, I'd decided on the theme (Secret Garden) and had a general idea of what we needed to pull together for the adoption.
Tuesday night Joe was panicking because we still have so much work to do on the house to get it presentable, we're still so much in debt, how can we possibly manage to pull off this adoption in three months--and do we even know she's pregnant?
Well, no, but all indications point to her being about 5 months along, and I couldn't live with myself if we didn't at least try.
I cried myself to sleep that night, praying that if we were going to be unable to make this miracle happen, that we'd find out right away.
Wednesday I was trying to breathe amidst the worries that Joe had brought up the night before. I called my sister. "I need you." She took a long lunch and drove out from Arlington and we went to Don Pablos and talked about babies and adoption over cheese enchiladas and hot sauce.
About half an hour after I returned to the office from that lunch break, my phone rang again. The pregnancy test was negative, and there's no baby.
I was surprisingly upbeat as I notified the few people I'd talked to about it. It's better this way; we're older, set in our ways, have too much debt and too many things to pull together to try to adopt right now.
And that night I cried myself to sleep. And the next day any time anyone looked at me, I cried. And every time I saw the books on adoption that I'd optimistically checked out from the library on Tuesday, I cried.
Sophie was only in my head the whole time, but she was so real, and now she's gone. Every day as I wander through my office, passing out credit reports to the collectors, I see the pictures of their children taped up in their cubes and I feel so empty. The only pictures I have of my twins are photocopied photos of the fertilized embryos that were transferred to my womb a few days before they died. And the only picture I have of Sophie is a mental image of a misty green bedroom with pink and green bedding, white lattice around the walls with ivy and flowers woven in, and quaint Kate Greenaway pictures on the wall, and a tiny brown-skinned girl with enormous brown eyes and her small brown fingers tightly clasping my finger.
I think I stammered out that we'd talk it over and call her back. I hung up the phone and turned to my husband. I'd barely gotten the words out of my mouth when he was saying, "Yes! Yes!"
In a curious little twist of fate, we were in the car, on our way to Carrabbas, where we were to meet family. It was Father's Day. We barely gave Dad time to sit down before we asked if he wanted to be a grandfather. It was one of those "duh" questions, even though he and the Monster expressed their concerns about the situation.
By the time I went to bed on Sunday night, I knew it was a girl, had picked out her name (Sophie Helene), and had begun thinking about how to decorate her room. By noon on Monday I'd allowed myself to blissfully browse the baby sections at several online stores. By the time I left work that afternoon, I'd decided on the theme (Secret Garden) and had a general idea of what we needed to pull together for the adoption.
Tuesday night Joe was panicking because we still have so much work to do on the house to get it presentable, we're still so much in debt, how can we possibly manage to pull off this adoption in three months--and do we even know she's pregnant?
Well, no, but all indications point to her being about 5 months along, and I couldn't live with myself if we didn't at least try.
I cried myself to sleep that night, praying that if we were going to be unable to make this miracle happen, that we'd find out right away.
Wednesday I was trying to breathe amidst the worries that Joe had brought up the night before. I called my sister. "I need you." She took a long lunch and drove out from Arlington and we went to Don Pablos and talked about babies and adoption over cheese enchiladas and hot sauce.
About half an hour after I returned to the office from that lunch break, my phone rang again. The pregnancy test was negative, and there's no baby.
I was surprisingly upbeat as I notified the few people I'd talked to about it. It's better this way; we're older, set in our ways, have too much debt and too many things to pull together to try to adopt right now.
And that night I cried myself to sleep. And the next day any time anyone looked at me, I cried. And every time I saw the books on adoption that I'd optimistically checked out from the library on Tuesday, I cried.
Sophie was only in my head the whole time, but she was so real, and now she's gone. Every day as I wander through my office, passing out credit reports to the collectors, I see the pictures of their children taped up in their cubes and I feel so empty. The only pictures I have of my twins are photocopied photos of the fertilized embryos that were transferred to my womb a few days before they died. And the only picture I have of Sophie is a mental image of a misty green bedroom with pink and green bedding, white lattice around the walls with ivy and flowers woven in, and quaint Kate Greenaway pictures on the wall, and a tiny brown-skinned girl with enormous brown eyes and her small brown fingers tightly clasping my finger.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The Scheherazade Project
This week's assignment was to write about someone who stole something she didn't need. I wandered off into the melodramatic here. Bear in mind that writing short stories is not my forte, and be merciful!
Jana looked furtively around her, checking to be sure no one was watching as she slipped the can of formula into the Winnie-the-Pooh diaper bag she was carrying. She meandered slowly down the aisle of the grocery store, ostentatiously checking the prices of the various baby bottles and binkies or reading the list of ingredients in the jarred baby food. Every now and then her hand would surreptitiously slide another item into the capacious diaper bag while Jana checked her grocery list.
After leaving the baby aisle, Jana briskly completed the rest of her grocery shopping, crossing the dog food, ground round, eggplant, and Swiss cheese off her list. She stood in line, tapped her foot in time with the music, and blushed whenever anyone smiled at her when she was caught singing along to the song.
The cashier wore a bright red name tag that proclaimed her to be Maria. She chatted cheerfully with Jana about the brand of detergent she preferred (All) and the outrageous cost of bottled water ($6.98 for a 12-pack). She hit the button to get the total, and asked if Jana had her frequent shopper card with her.
Jana shook her head, and forked over $78.64 cash for her groceries. Casting one last bright smile at Maria, she thanked the bagger and then headed out the front door. Just as she was about to go down the curbside ramp that led to the parking lot, she was stopped.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to come with me."
Jana looked quizzically at the speaker. "I don't understand."
"I will explain inside. Please come with me."
"But I have to get home." Jana appeared to be calm, but her voice rose slightly.
"Ma'am, you don't want to do this on the curb. Please. Come inside."
She yielded, and allowed the burly man to usher her back into the store past dozens of curious faces with a few knowing glances interspersed among them.
The man opened a door, and showed Jana to a chair.
She sank into the chair, and looked up at him. "Now will you please tell me what this is all about?"
"May I see that diaper bag, please, ma'am?"
She handed it to him. "There's nothing in it but my baby's things."
He nodded. "Now may I see your receipt, please?"
She handed him the receipt.
He carefully compared the receipt with the items in her grocery bags. "You didn't pay for the items in the diaper bag."
"Well, of course not, silly!" Her brittle laugh tinkled and then smashed on the floor. "Those things were already in my diaper bag. Why would I pay for them again?"
"Where is your baby?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Where is your baby? Why did you bring the diaper bag to the store with you when you don't have the baby with you."
Jana stared at him. "I brought the diaper bag because my wallet is in it. Now may I please leave?"
"No, ma'am. A store employee saw you put these things into your bag, and they do not appear on your receipt. I'm afraid we have no choice but to call the police."
"There must be some mistake," Jana said. "I already told you, I always carry a spare can of formula, a package of diapers, some bottles, and some baby food with me. I don't understand what the problem is."
He picked up the phone. "Send Ted in, please. Thank you."
A moment later a knock sounded on the door. "Come in."
A gawky teenage boy opened the door. His acne-scarred face was hot with embarrassment, and he carefully avoided looking at Jana.
"This is Ted. Ted, tell this woman what you saw."
Ted snuck a look at Jana. "She put some formula, some diapers, bottles, and baby food in that diaper bag."
"Are you sure it was this woman?"
Ted looked at Jana again and then nodded awkwardly.
"Thank you. You may go back to work." Ted exited the room, and the man leaned back in his chair and looked appraisingly at Jana. "Ma'am, I hate to call the police. You seem like a nice lady and all, but unless you open up with me and tell me what's going on, you leave me with no choice."
"How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't steal anything, and there's nothing going on. Call the police. And call my husband, too. He'll straighten things out. His number is—aren't you going to write it down?—817-555-5283. Tell him what you told me. He'll explain everything. You'll see. It's okay."
The man sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll call your husband. And then I'm calling the police. You stay here." He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Jana put the items back into her diaper bag, and loaded her groceries back into the cart. Humming a lullaby, she opened the door and began walking toward the front door.
"Lady, where the hell do you think you're going!"
"I have to go home and feed my baby!" she insisted, twisting away from him. "Let me go!"
"Your baby's home, alone?"
"It was only going to be for a minute. Please! I have to go!"
"I'm calling the cops," he warned.
"Fine. Just let me go now, okay?"
"Let me see your driver's license first."
She took her wallet out of the diaper bag, and slipped her license out of its protective plastic sleeve and handed it to him.
He scribbled down her name and address, and then handed her license back. "Let me tell you, lady, if it weren't for your kid being home by itself, you would be sitting back in that office in handcuffs! And don't think you're out of this thing!"
"I know, I know, but I have to go now." She shoved her license into the bag and turned to go.
"One last thing, lady. What's your baby's name?"
She stared at him mutely.
"Your baby? The one that's home by itself? What's its name?"
"Her name—" she faltered.
"What is her name?" he asked again.
"Her name was Stella," she said as she began sobbing hysterically. "Her name was Stella."
Jana looked furtively around her, checking to be sure no one was watching as she slipped the can of formula into the Winnie-the-Pooh diaper bag she was carrying. She meandered slowly down the aisle of the grocery store, ostentatiously checking the prices of the various baby bottles and binkies or reading the list of ingredients in the jarred baby food. Every now and then her hand would surreptitiously slide another item into the capacious diaper bag while Jana checked her grocery list.
After leaving the baby aisle, Jana briskly completed the rest of her grocery shopping, crossing the dog food, ground round, eggplant, and Swiss cheese off her list. She stood in line, tapped her foot in time with the music, and blushed whenever anyone smiled at her when she was caught singing along to the song.
The cashier wore a bright red name tag that proclaimed her to be Maria. She chatted cheerfully with Jana about the brand of detergent she preferred (All) and the outrageous cost of bottled water ($6.98 for a 12-pack). She hit the button to get the total, and asked if Jana had her frequent shopper card with her.
Jana shook her head, and forked over $78.64 cash for her groceries. Casting one last bright smile at Maria, she thanked the bagger and then headed out the front door. Just as she was about to go down the curbside ramp that led to the parking lot, she was stopped.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to come with me."
Jana looked quizzically at the speaker. "I don't understand."
"I will explain inside. Please come with me."
"But I have to get home." Jana appeared to be calm, but her voice rose slightly.
"Ma'am, you don't want to do this on the curb. Please. Come inside."
She yielded, and allowed the burly man to usher her back into the store past dozens of curious faces with a few knowing glances interspersed among them.
The man opened a door, and showed Jana to a chair.
She sank into the chair, and looked up at him. "Now will you please tell me what this is all about?"
"May I see that diaper bag, please, ma'am?"
She handed it to him. "There's nothing in it but my baby's things."
He nodded. "Now may I see your receipt, please?"
She handed him the receipt.
He carefully compared the receipt with the items in her grocery bags. "You didn't pay for the items in the diaper bag."
"Well, of course not, silly!" Her brittle laugh tinkled and then smashed on the floor. "Those things were already in my diaper bag. Why would I pay for them again?"
"Where is your baby?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Where is your baby? Why did you bring the diaper bag to the store with you when you don't have the baby with you."
Jana stared at him. "I brought the diaper bag because my wallet is in it. Now may I please leave?"
"No, ma'am. A store employee saw you put these things into your bag, and they do not appear on your receipt. I'm afraid we have no choice but to call the police."
"There must be some mistake," Jana said. "I already told you, I always carry a spare can of formula, a package of diapers, some bottles, and some baby food with me. I don't understand what the problem is."
He picked up the phone. "Send Ted in, please. Thank you."
A moment later a knock sounded on the door. "Come in."
A gawky teenage boy opened the door. His acne-scarred face was hot with embarrassment, and he carefully avoided looking at Jana.
"This is Ted. Ted, tell this woman what you saw."
Ted snuck a look at Jana. "She put some formula, some diapers, bottles, and baby food in that diaper bag."
"Are you sure it was this woman?"
Ted looked at Jana again and then nodded awkwardly.
"Thank you. You may go back to work." Ted exited the room, and the man leaned back in his chair and looked appraisingly at Jana. "Ma'am, I hate to call the police. You seem like a nice lady and all, but unless you open up with me and tell me what's going on, you leave me with no choice."
"How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't steal anything, and there's nothing going on. Call the police. And call my husband, too. He'll straighten things out. His number is—aren't you going to write it down?—817-555-5283. Tell him what you told me. He'll explain everything. You'll see. It's okay."
The man sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll call your husband. And then I'm calling the police. You stay here." He got up and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Jana put the items back into her diaper bag, and loaded her groceries back into the cart. Humming a lullaby, she opened the door and began walking toward the front door.
"Lady, where the hell do you think you're going!"
"I have to go home and feed my baby!" she insisted, twisting away from him. "Let me go!"
"Your baby's home, alone?"
"It was only going to be for a minute. Please! I have to go!"
"I'm calling the cops," he warned.
"Fine. Just let me go now, okay?"
"Let me see your driver's license first."
She took her wallet out of the diaper bag, and slipped her license out of its protective plastic sleeve and handed it to him.
He scribbled down her name and address, and then handed her license back. "Let me tell you, lady, if it weren't for your kid being home by itself, you would be sitting back in that office in handcuffs! And don't think you're out of this thing!"
"I know, I know, but I have to go now." She shoved her license into the bag and turned to go.
"One last thing, lady. What's your baby's name?"
She stared at him mutely.
"Your baby? The one that's home by itself? What's its name?"
"Her name—" she faltered.
"What is her name?" he asked again.
"Her name was Stella," she said as she began sobbing hysterically. "Her name was Stella."
Message in a Bottle
If you’ve found this, probably the first thing you’ll want to know is why I resorted to sending a message in this fashion. The people around me don’t see me, don’t hear me, don’t notice me. I get a passing hello from people I see every day. I get lectures on finances over the phone from my husband. I check my e-mail 30 times a day to see if there is anything real there; usually there are only e-mails from people I’ve never met before asking for tips on housebreaking a dog or spam from people like Delicious Activation, who want to sell me V!@gra or V@l!um. So in a sense, it makes just as much sense to write this note, stuff it into a bottle that I will then seal and toss into the river. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Just like Delicious Activation and the friendish person who’s trying to housebreak her new dachshund.
And maybe the next thing you want to know about me is who I am. That’s a good question. I’m not really sure how to answer it. I can tell you what I am—a wife, a sister, a daughter, a pianist, a writer, a reader, an observer. I can tell you how I feel—sleepy, headachy, depressed, lonely, empty, hungry, despairing. I think, though, that the only way you can know who I am is to study me. Watch me, observe me, hear me, listen to me, ask me, capture me.
James Barrie, in Peter Pan, wrote of the secret kiss that lay in one corner of Mrs. Darling’s mouth, the kiss that no one could claim, the kiss that maddeningly remained aloof. That kiss was there for only one person, and if he did not claim it, it would remain unclaimed. Mr. Darling kissed his wife. Wendy, Michael, and John kissed their mother. There were kisses aplenty, and she gave them liberally to those she loved. But there was always that one kiss that remained untouched. There is something deep within me, like unto that kiss, that no one has touched yet. No one has discovered it. I cannot name it—only when it is filled can I understand and define it. And it’s that thing within me that impels me to write this letter, to make this desperate attempt to touch one other person. Perhaps you have such a place deep within your soul that is calling out for contact. Maybe you are the one person who can fill my emptiness; maybe I am the one person who can fill your emptiness; maybe somehow the randomness of our meeting will actually help make us whole.
But how will you know me? I can describe myself—round, pale-skinned, heavy dark hair, round green eyes and a too-small full-lipped mouth. Has that told you anything? I could tell you where I live, and how to find me, but that still tells you nothing. Unless you know me, you cannot know me.
I suppose I am, then, sending this message into the world with as much vain hope as a shipwrecked man. Hope is everything, because it is hope that keeps me alive, keeps me moving, keeps the blood running through my longing body, keeps the dreams filling my nights and haunting my days, keeps the guilt from destroying me, keeps the emptiness from consuming me. When the hope is gone then I am gone and there is nothing left. All there is is hope.
And maybe the next thing you want to know about me is who I am. That’s a good question. I’m not really sure how to answer it. I can tell you what I am—a wife, a sister, a daughter, a pianist, a writer, a reader, an observer. I can tell you how I feel—sleepy, headachy, depressed, lonely, empty, hungry, despairing. I think, though, that the only way you can know who I am is to study me. Watch me, observe me, hear me, listen to me, ask me, capture me.
James Barrie, in Peter Pan, wrote of the secret kiss that lay in one corner of Mrs. Darling’s mouth, the kiss that no one could claim, the kiss that maddeningly remained aloof. That kiss was there for only one person, and if he did not claim it, it would remain unclaimed. Mr. Darling kissed his wife. Wendy, Michael, and John kissed their mother. There were kisses aplenty, and she gave them liberally to those she loved. But there was always that one kiss that remained untouched. There is something deep within me, like unto that kiss, that no one has touched yet. No one has discovered it. I cannot name it—only when it is filled can I understand and define it. And it’s that thing within me that impels me to write this letter, to make this desperate attempt to touch one other person. Perhaps you have such a place deep within your soul that is calling out for contact. Maybe you are the one person who can fill my emptiness; maybe I am the one person who can fill your emptiness; maybe somehow the randomness of our meeting will actually help make us whole.
But how will you know me? I can describe myself—round, pale-skinned, heavy dark hair, round green eyes and a too-small full-lipped mouth. Has that told you anything? I could tell you where I live, and how to find me, but that still tells you nothing. Unless you know me, you cannot know me.
I suppose I am, then, sending this message into the world with as much vain hope as a shipwrecked man. Hope is everything, because it is hope that keeps me alive, keeps me moving, keeps the blood running through my longing body, keeps the dreams filling my nights and haunting my days, keeps the guilt from destroying me, keeps the emptiness from consuming me. When the hope is gone then I am gone and there is nothing left. All there is is hope.
Friday, May 19, 2006
I love my ipod!!
My sweet husband bought me an iPod shuffle last night. I've been wanting one for when I go work out--my old CD player is so clunky. So today after work, I got it all hooked up, and put some music on it. I've been totally jamming out ever since!
I love those commercials of the shadow dancing zanily down the street while the person is tamely walking along. I've been dancing up and down the halls of my house, and singing at the top of my lungs, probably freaking my dog out. It's a pretty painless way to get active.
I hope Joe doesn't end up regretting this. He won't regret it from the standpoint that more activity is good, and helps me lose weight. He will regret it from the standpoint of having to listen to me sing when he can't hear the music. Let's just say that I make William Hung sound good!
I love those commercials of the shadow dancing zanily down the street while the person is tamely walking along. I've been dancing up and down the halls of my house, and singing at the top of my lungs, probably freaking my dog out. It's a pretty painless way to get active.
I hope Joe doesn't end up regretting this. He won't regret it from the standpoint that more activity is good, and helps me lose weight. He will regret it from the standpoint of having to listen to me sing when he can't hear the music. Let's just say that I make William Hung sound good!
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Interview
I agreed to be interviewed by Trista. Here you go:
1) How long did it take you to write your first book?
My sister and I wrote it together. We actually came up with the idea of a book about two sisters who had gotten married about the same time shortly after we were both married. We talked a little about it, but didn't do much on it. About a year before my sister and her husband divorced, our characters told us that they wanted us to start their story before they got married. So we tried moving it to their college years. But they said, "No, you need to go back further." We finally ended up setting it in their high school years. Once we figured out which story they wanted us to tell, the actual writing went reasonably quickly. I'd say it took us about 2 or 3 years (not actively working on it) to get to where we knew what story to tell and make an outline. Then it only took about 3 months to do the rest of the writing.
2) "Wonder is what sets us apart from other life forms. No other species wonders about the meaning of existence or the complexity of the universe or themselves."--Herbert W. Boyer. What do you find yourself wondering about on a consistent basis? Do you ever wonder if, when animals seemingly stare into nothing, they are really wondering about these things, too, but just can't tell us?
I wonder what my dog would say if she could talk to me. I mean, she does talk to me, but I mean the kind of talking where we would sit down and have a conversation. I wonder what the people in portraits would tell me about things they've seen since their portrait was captured. I wonder about all kinds of things.
3) You mentioned once that Faith is your chosen name. How did you choose it, when and why?
My husband and I got married in 1991. Much to my shock, I didn't immediately get pregnant. Well, I did once, but miscarried early on. Months, and then years went by, without children coming. I had severe pain with my periods for years and years and years, and heard all kinds of stupid crap when I went to the doctors about it. Finally I got Joe to agree to go to an infertility specialist in late '99. I had laparoscopy done in March of '99 to clean out the adhesions the other doctors swore were all in my head. Much to my horror and dismay, the endometriosis had gotten to such a severe stage that they couldn't clean out the adhesions without doing a hysterectomy. So we did IVF with ICSI. I never had any doubt that the IVF would work. I had perfect faith. But it didn't work.
A few months after that, I was sitting in church one Sunday, idly not paying attention to the speaker. I had spent much of the morning looking enviously at the mothers with their hordes of children, and wondering if it would ever happen for me. Then I had this surge of inspiration that I should quit worrying about something that was out of my control. I remember frantically pulling a pen and paper out of my purse and writing down a list of the things that I had always wanted to do, but had put off "because I'm going to get pregnant and won't be able to finish." The list included such things as go back to school, go to Egypt, travel, etc. When I got home from church that morning, I looked at my whole house with a different perspective. I started realizing that for years I had been trying to mold myself into the perfect Mormon woman, and in so doing had crushed what made me the unique person I am.
Over the next several months, I got rid of all kinds of stuff. All the crafty cutesy things I had spent hours laboring over or money I didn't really have to buy went out the door. I sold my scroll saw (that I never even used) and all the paints and brushes and glue and everything. It dawned on me as I was making some Christmas gifts that if I really enjoyed tole painting, I wouldn't put it off until the last minute and then complain the whole time I was doing it. I bought a Picasso print and hung it in my bathroom. I changed my wardrobe. I changed every artificial thing about myself, and tried to strip down to the essence of myself.
My mother came to visit that year just after Christmas. While she was here, she and I had the usual conversation about my name. I have always hated my birth name. Virginia. Yes, objectively I know that it is a beautiful name. But when I got to the teen years, I heard all the bad jokes you can imagine. And I tried every nickname that could possibly logically be extracted fVirginiagina. For a long time I went by Ginny. No one ever spelled it correctly, even if I were standing there spelling it out loud. And there were some people from church that I had once longingly wanted to be like who said my name with what I can only describe as a painfully condescending tone of voice. So I just had all kinds of negative associations with my name. My mother airily told me to just change it.
Wow! I was floored. It had honestly never occurred to me to just change my name. I tried out a name I had liked since girlhood, but it didn't fit me. So while Joe and I were driving home from visiting some friends, I asked him what he would name me if the choice were his. He said, "Faith." And I tried it out, and it fit, and I like it. His family still don't know, and they all call me Ginny. I haven't told them because they already think I'm a freak, and I don't want to give them more ammunition. Half of my family faithfully call me by my chosen name, and the others still call me Ginny. I don't get offended by that; I realize that changing one's name at the age of 37 can be hard for people to get used to. But I like it, and that's what I go by. I haven't changed it legally, and probably won't. I don't have to. I know who I am.
4) Have you ever thought of something you wanted to change in your life, something that could be changed, and then did so?
All the time. All the time. I was painfully shy as I was growing up, and learned when I was in my early 20's that people mistook my shyness for snobbery. So I forced myself to be less shy. I've already mentioned a major change I did in the question above. And right now I am learning to cope with my fear of large crowds. I have missed events that I desperately wanted to see because I am afraid of crowds. I won free tickets to see one of my favorite bands (Barenaked Ladies), and at the last minute chickened out. I sent my husband with his best friend. So now when my husband wants me to go to a concert with him, I go. It's uncomfortable, but I hope that eventually I'll get used to it.
5) If you had a grody wound on your wrist, one that you had given yourself in an act of supreme stupidity, would you show it to everyone and tell them how stupid you are, or would you keep it discretely hidden and/or make up a story that showed your intelligence and valor to explain how you got it?
I'd probably show it to everyone and tell them how stupid I am. I went through a brief episode of cutting myself when I was living in Minneapolis (long ugly painful story). I didn't go out of my way to hide it, but didn't go out of my way to show anyone either. But now I'm a lot more comfortable with myself, and also more judgmental of myself, at the same time. So I'd be comfortable enough to show it around, and pissed enough to tell everyone what an idiot I am.
It's been hard. Part of the depression involves frequent suicidal thoughts. There are times when I feel so completely worthless that I think I should not exist. But I think of what it would do to the people I would leave behind. In the times when I don't love myself enough, thank heavens that I love them enough to refrain from doing it. The antidepressants I'm taking now have really reduced those feelings, and I'm glad. I hate feeling that way and knowing there's nothing I can do about it.
1) How long did it take you to write your first book?
My sister and I wrote it together. We actually came up with the idea of a book about two sisters who had gotten married about the same time shortly after we were both married. We talked a little about it, but didn't do much on it. About a year before my sister and her husband divorced, our characters told us that they wanted us to start their story before they got married. So we tried moving it to their college years. But they said, "No, you need to go back further." We finally ended up setting it in their high school years. Once we figured out which story they wanted us to tell, the actual writing went reasonably quickly. I'd say it took us about 2 or 3 years (not actively working on it) to get to where we knew what story to tell and make an outline. Then it only took about 3 months to do the rest of the writing.
2) "Wonder is what sets us apart from other life forms. No other species wonders about the meaning of existence or the complexity of the universe or themselves."--Herbert W. Boyer. What do you find yourself wondering about on a consistent basis? Do you ever wonder if, when animals seemingly stare into nothing, they are really wondering about these things, too, but just can't tell us?
I wonder what my dog would say if she could talk to me. I mean, she does talk to me, but I mean the kind of talking where we would sit down and have a conversation. I wonder what the people in portraits would tell me about things they've seen since their portrait was captured. I wonder about all kinds of things.
3) You mentioned once that Faith is your chosen name. How did you choose it, when and why?
My husband and I got married in 1991. Much to my shock, I didn't immediately get pregnant. Well, I did once, but miscarried early on. Months, and then years went by, without children coming. I had severe pain with my periods for years and years and years, and heard all kinds of stupid crap when I went to the doctors about it. Finally I got Joe to agree to go to an infertility specialist in late '99. I had laparoscopy done in March of '99 to clean out the adhesions the other doctors swore were all in my head. Much to my horror and dismay, the endometriosis had gotten to such a severe stage that they couldn't clean out the adhesions without doing a hysterectomy. So we did IVF with ICSI. I never had any doubt that the IVF would work. I had perfect faith. But it didn't work.
A few months after that, I was sitting in church one Sunday, idly not paying attention to the speaker. I had spent much of the morning looking enviously at the mothers with their hordes of children, and wondering if it would ever happen for me. Then I had this surge of inspiration that I should quit worrying about something that was out of my control. I remember frantically pulling a pen and paper out of my purse and writing down a list of the things that I had always wanted to do, but had put off "because I'm going to get pregnant and won't be able to finish." The list included such things as go back to school, go to Egypt, travel, etc. When I got home from church that morning, I looked at my whole house with a different perspective. I started realizing that for years I had been trying to mold myself into the perfect Mormon woman, and in so doing had crushed what made me the unique person I am.
Over the next several months, I got rid of all kinds of stuff. All the crafty cutesy things I had spent hours laboring over or money I didn't really have to buy went out the door. I sold my scroll saw (that I never even used) and all the paints and brushes and glue and everything. It dawned on me as I was making some Christmas gifts that if I really enjoyed tole painting, I wouldn't put it off until the last minute and then complain the whole time I was doing it. I bought a Picasso print and hung it in my bathroom. I changed my wardrobe. I changed every artificial thing about myself, and tried to strip down to the essence of myself.
My mother came to visit that year just after Christmas. While she was here, she and I had the usual conversation about my name. I have always hated my birth name. Virginia. Yes, objectively I know that it is a beautiful name. But when I got to the teen years, I heard all the bad jokes you can imagine. And I tried every nickname that could possibly logically be extracted fVirginiagina. For a long time I went by Ginny. No one ever spelled it correctly, even if I were standing there spelling it out loud. And there were some people from church that I had once longingly wanted to be like who said my name with what I can only describe as a painfully condescending tone of voice. So I just had all kinds of negative associations with my name. My mother airily told me to just change it.
Wow! I was floored. It had honestly never occurred to me to just change my name. I tried out a name I had liked since girlhood, but it didn't fit me. So while Joe and I were driving home from visiting some friends, I asked him what he would name me if the choice were his. He said, "Faith." And I tried it out, and it fit, and I like it. His family still don't know, and they all call me Ginny. I haven't told them because they already think I'm a freak, and I don't want to give them more ammunition. Half of my family faithfully call me by my chosen name, and the others still call me Ginny. I don't get offended by that; I realize that changing one's name at the age of 37 can be hard for people to get used to. But I like it, and that's what I go by. I haven't changed it legally, and probably won't. I don't have to. I know who I am.
4) Have you ever thought of something you wanted to change in your life, something that could be changed, and then did so?
All the time. All the time. I was painfully shy as I was growing up, and learned when I was in my early 20's that people mistook my shyness for snobbery. So I forced myself to be less shy. I've already mentioned a major change I did in the question above. And right now I am learning to cope with my fear of large crowds. I have missed events that I desperately wanted to see because I am afraid of crowds. I won free tickets to see one of my favorite bands (Barenaked Ladies), and at the last minute chickened out. I sent my husband with his best friend. So now when my husband wants me to go to a concert with him, I go. It's uncomfortable, but I hope that eventually I'll get used to it.
5) If you had a grody wound on your wrist, one that you had given yourself in an act of supreme stupidity, would you show it to everyone and tell them how stupid you are, or would you keep it discretely hidden and/or make up a story that showed your intelligence and valor to explain how you got it?
I'd probably show it to everyone and tell them how stupid I am. I went through a brief episode of cutting myself when I was living in Minneapolis (long ugly painful story). I didn't go out of my way to hide it, but didn't go out of my way to show anyone either. But now I'm a lot more comfortable with myself, and also more judgmental of myself, at the same time. So I'd be comfortable enough to show it around, and pissed enough to tell everyone what an idiot I am.
It's been hard. Part of the depression involves frequent suicidal thoughts. There are times when I feel so completely worthless that I think I should not exist. But I think of what it would do to the people I would leave behind. In the times when I don't love myself enough, thank heavens that I love them enough to refrain from doing it. The antidepressants I'm taking now have really reduced those feelings, and I'm glad. I hate feeling that way and knowing there's nothing I can do about it.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
My Favorite Flowers
(In case you're wondering why the bombardment of favorites lists--I'm cleaning out my e-mail, and want to delete some things from e-mail, but want to keep them for myself!)
I love roses, and I noticed yesterday that I have two roses on the bush by my front door. The flowers are a lovely yellow, with a pinkish tinge along the fringes of the petals.
And I love iris--they remind me of my Grannie, who had a huge garden full of iris.
I love daffodils, because they're so yellow and cheerful.
I love tulips, because they're so graceful and lovely.
I love lilies, because they are so graceful and beautiful. They remind me of the Savior.
I like to see lilacs blooming, with their drooping heads laden with purple flowers. And they smell so sweet.
I love lavender, for the color and the aroma.
We have a catalpa tree in our front yard, and it has huge leaves as big as dinner plates. In the spring, it blooms with these beautiful delicate flowers that look a little like orchids. They smell so sweet, and our front yard smells divine while the tree is in bloom.
I love to see magnolia blooms on the trees. The huge waxy flowers against the dark green leaves is exquisite to behold.
I love the trees that bloom with the pinky flowers. I know what they are, but I am having total brain cramps this morning, and can't remember their names. But I love to see them!
And here in Texas, I especially enjoy the wildflowers that grow along the roadways. Bluebonnets (the state flower), Indian paintbrush, and buttercups--they are so beautiful!!!
I love roses, and I noticed yesterday that I have two roses on the bush by my front door. The flowers are a lovely yellow, with a pinkish tinge along the fringes of the petals.
And I love iris--they remind me of my Grannie, who had a huge garden full of iris.
I love daffodils, because they're so yellow and cheerful.
I love tulips, because they're so graceful and lovely.
I love lilies, because they are so graceful and beautiful. They remind me of the Savior.
I like to see lilacs blooming, with their drooping heads laden with purple flowers. And they smell so sweet.
I love lavender, for the color and the aroma.
We have a catalpa tree in our front yard, and it has huge leaves as big as dinner plates. In the spring, it blooms with these beautiful delicate flowers that look a little like orchids. They smell so sweet, and our front yard smells divine while the tree is in bloom.
I love to see magnolia blooms on the trees. The huge waxy flowers against the dark green leaves is exquisite to behold.
I love the trees that bloom with the pinky flowers. I know what they are, but I am having total brain cramps this morning, and can't remember their names. But I love to see them!
And here in Texas, I especially enjoy the wildflowers that grow along the roadways. Bluebonnets (the state flower), Indian paintbrush, and buttercups--they are so beautiful!!!
My Favorite Smells
I love the smell of cinnamon, pine, holly--those wonderful Christmas scents--probably because I love Christmas so.
I like the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in hot olive oil. So many of the main dishes I cook start out that way, and it's such a savory odor.
I like the smell of clean laundry. It's like the reward for my labors, after I've spent the time to wash, dry, and put the laundry away.
I love the smell of bread baking. And it's not as good when I use a bread machine instead of making it myself, so I know part of it is the reward for my labors.
I love the smell of rain. It's so tantalizing, particularly when it's the first rain in a long while.
I love the way my husband smells. When we were first dating, he used to wear Stetson cologne, and it smelled so good on him. He went out of town for a week, and I bought a small bottle of Stetson so I could keep smelling him. Now he uses more expensive colognes, but they just smell wonderful on him.
I love the way a new book smells, one that has never before been opened or read. And I love the way an old book smells.
I like the way herbs smell--particularly sage and mint.
I like the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in hot olive oil. So many of the main dishes I cook start out that way, and it's such a savory odor.
I like the smell of clean laundry. It's like the reward for my labors, after I've spent the time to wash, dry, and put the laundry away.
I love the smell of bread baking. And it's not as good when I use a bread machine instead of making it myself, so I know part of it is the reward for my labors.
I love the smell of rain. It's so tantalizing, particularly when it's the first rain in a long while.
I love the way my husband smells. When we were first dating, he used to wear Stetson cologne, and it smelled so good on him. He went out of town for a week, and I bought a small bottle of Stetson so I could keep smelling him. Now he uses more expensive colognes, but they just smell wonderful on him.
I love the way a new book smells, one that has never before been opened or read. And I love the way an old book smells.
I like the way herbs smell--particularly sage and mint.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Back spasms
Did I mention nearly slipping in the bathtub a few weeks ago? I was taking a shower and suddenly felt my feet sliding backwards. The way I was headed, I would have cracked my skull wide open on the tile. I was terrified, although I didn't quite see my life flashing before me, and somehow managed to save myself from falling. In the process, I twisted my back pretty badly. It hurt for a few days, and then let up.
Well, it started hurting again Friday or Saturday. Today it was bad enough that I took off work a few hours early and went to the doctor. He said that I pulled some muscles back there, and gave me some anti inflammatories and some muscle relaxers. I'm about to drowse off now, as they're kicking in.
And may I just say, I won! I don't have to take Molly to the vet after all! I've got to reschedule it for Saturday morning, and Joe gets to take her!!!
Okay, I'd rather NOT have the back spasms and have to take her to the vet, but still, one looks for the silver lining, right?
Well, it started hurting again Friday or Saturday. Today it was bad enough that I took off work a few hours early and went to the doctor. He said that I pulled some muscles back there, and gave me some anti inflammatories and some muscle relaxers. I'm about to drowse off now, as they're kicking in.
And may I just say, I won! I don't have to take Molly to the vet after all! I've got to reschedule it for Saturday morning, and Joe gets to take her!!!
Okay, I'd rather NOT have the back spasms and have to take her to the vet, but still, one looks for the silver lining, right?
Monday, May 08, 2006
It always works out this way
No matter how hard I try to plan it so that Joe takes Molly to the vet at least every other visit, I keep end up getting stuck with the task. I think he's taken her a total of twice, and we've had her for 6 years now! She gets to go tomorrow afternoon for her yearly shots, as well as her rabies shot. She's sitting by my knee giving me kisses. She's not going to be so happy with me at 5 p.m. tomorrow afternoon when she realizes we're on our way to the vet. Yes, she knows the way to the vet, and as soon as I start heading that direction, she starts crying. She cries all the way to the vet. Once we're in the waiting room, she tries to sniff all the other dogs and eat the cats. And when we're in the little patient room, she cowers under my knees and pees on the floor. Poor baby. Last time she went she peed on the scale as well.
I got some more writing done on my Chaucer book today. I've got to do some more research, so I'll try to remember to take the pertinent books to work tomorrow.
Other than that, not much happening around here.
I got some more writing done on my Chaucer book today. I've got to do some more research, so I'll try to remember to take the pertinent books to work tomorrow.
Other than that, not much happening around here.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Let There Be Rain
We've needed rain so desperately. We've been told that we're in for a long, hot summer. When we get long, hot summers, we need lots o' water. And we weren't getting it.
But we have been having awesome storms this week! Our grass is growing like weeds--oops, wait, that green stuff is weeds! My dog's spent many hours hiding under the bed. I have been awakened at unbelievable hours of night by spectacular lightning shows and loud rumbling thunder. And it has rained. I hope the rain continues.
On other subjects, I have finally decided what I'm doing career-wise. I'm staying at my office job. I've been having so many nightmares about CPS, and I've been truly concerned that teaching would take over my life as much as CPS did. Plus, it is working out at my office job for me to basically work those two hours a day and then spend the rest of the day writing. They are trying to get me as much money as possible; the problem is that the salary range for the job classification is pretty pathetic. However, the VP in our office is going to approach the corporate office about reclassifying my job so they can pay me more money. Believe me, I'm worth it. And they are able to recognize that.
I have started working on my Chaucer book, and it is going so well!!! Have I mentioned it here before? Well, as you could guess by my screenname, I am a Chaucer freak. I have long dreamed of writing a book relating to some of Chaucer's works. I'm not going to say anything else about it here and now, just that it's underway and is going to be an incredible book.
I had already decided that after we get out of debt, I'm starting grad school. Another benefit of getting paid to sit in an office for 8 hours a day with only 2 hours of work is that I will also have time to study and read and write papers. Joe called me last night (he was working late) to tell me that he really thinks I need to get my Ph.D. I was happy to tell him that once again we are on the same page, as I had already come to that same decision. I'm having an insane fantasy of finding a way to afford to go to SMU for my master's degree--they have a master's program in Medieval Studies. Hey--if my Chaucer book is as successful as I confidently tell myself it will be, that may not even be an issue. SMU could come knocking at my door. I like feeling this way. I like being confident and stopping just short of arrogant. I like working on projects that bring me joy. I like it when Joe and I are in harmony.
Changing tacks now: Since my sister was killed back in January, I have not watched the news. I tried to once, and there were two or three stories about homicides and police chases that ended up in shootouts. So I gave up. The other secretary in my office (yes, not only do they pay me to sit there 8 hours a day for 2 hours of work; corporate has decreed that they need 2 clerks in the office, so they keep getting temps in until they can find one who's willing to stay. I like this one. I want her to stay. She's intelligent and hard-working. Not, of course, that we have much work. But I digress.) told me yesterday about a 19-year-old man who had been sexually abused by his stepfather from ages 7 until 11. He ended up getting HIV, and in anger sodomized his younger half-brother (the son of his stepfather and his mother). That little boy now is HIV positive, and the man is in prison. His stepfather is also in prison. I started crying when she told me that. WTF are people thinking when they mistreat their children?
From that point on yesterday, I found that I was just very tender-hearted. She started asking me about the beliefs of my religion. I had hard work to keep from tearing up as I told her. Our office had won the first quarter's competition, and as the collectors were being recognized for their accomplishments and people were winning prizes, yeah, I found myself tearing up. I watched the movie "Bewitched" last night, and outright sobbed. Not because the movie was bad--I actually liked it a lot--but I just wasn't able to regain my self-composure after hearing about that news.
But we have been having awesome storms this week! Our grass is growing like weeds--oops, wait, that green stuff is weeds! My dog's spent many hours hiding under the bed. I have been awakened at unbelievable hours of night by spectacular lightning shows and loud rumbling thunder. And it has rained. I hope the rain continues.
On other subjects, I have finally decided what I'm doing career-wise. I'm staying at my office job. I've been having so many nightmares about CPS, and I've been truly concerned that teaching would take over my life as much as CPS did. Plus, it is working out at my office job for me to basically work those two hours a day and then spend the rest of the day writing. They are trying to get me as much money as possible; the problem is that the salary range for the job classification is pretty pathetic. However, the VP in our office is going to approach the corporate office about reclassifying my job so they can pay me more money. Believe me, I'm worth it. And they are able to recognize that.
I have started working on my Chaucer book, and it is going so well!!! Have I mentioned it here before? Well, as you could guess by my screenname, I am a Chaucer freak. I have long dreamed of writing a book relating to some of Chaucer's works. I'm not going to say anything else about it here and now, just that it's underway and is going to be an incredible book.
I had already decided that after we get out of debt, I'm starting grad school. Another benefit of getting paid to sit in an office for 8 hours a day with only 2 hours of work is that I will also have time to study and read and write papers. Joe called me last night (he was working late) to tell me that he really thinks I need to get my Ph.D. I was happy to tell him that once again we are on the same page, as I had already come to that same decision. I'm having an insane fantasy of finding a way to afford to go to SMU for my master's degree--they have a master's program in Medieval Studies. Hey--if my Chaucer book is as successful as I confidently tell myself it will be, that may not even be an issue. SMU could come knocking at my door. I like feeling this way. I like being confident and stopping just short of arrogant. I like working on projects that bring me joy. I like it when Joe and I are in harmony.
Changing tacks now: Since my sister was killed back in January, I have not watched the news. I tried to once, and there were two or three stories about homicides and police chases that ended up in shootouts. So I gave up. The other secretary in my office (yes, not only do they pay me to sit there 8 hours a day for 2 hours of work; corporate has decreed that they need 2 clerks in the office, so they keep getting temps in until they can find one who's willing to stay. I like this one. I want her to stay. She's intelligent and hard-working. Not, of course, that we have much work. But I digress.) told me yesterday about a 19-year-old man who had been sexually abused by his stepfather from ages 7 until 11. He ended up getting HIV, and in anger sodomized his younger half-brother (the son of his stepfather and his mother). That little boy now is HIV positive, and the man is in prison. His stepfather is also in prison. I started crying when she told me that. WTF are people thinking when they mistreat their children?
From that point on yesterday, I found that I was just very tender-hearted. She started asking me about the beliefs of my religion. I had hard work to keep from tearing up as I told her. Our office had won the first quarter's competition, and as the collectors were being recognized for their accomplishments and people were winning prizes, yeah, I found myself tearing up. I watched the movie "Bewitched" last night, and outright sobbed. Not because the movie was bad--I actually liked it a lot--but I just wasn't able to regain my self-composure after hearing about that news.
Faith and the Beast
If any of you are interested in my weight loss blog, you might want to check it out. I've chucked the OA stuff (although I didn't delete the previous entries), and am taking a much more sane approach.
I like it. I like it a lot.
I like it. I like it a lot.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Fear
Trista asked for scary stories for the trial run of the Scheherazade Project.
My grandparents' house in LaMarque was haunted. The downstairs portion of the house was innocuous. The way the house was laid out, when you walked in the front door, there was a room to the left, a room to the right, and a staircase right in the middle. If you walked up the stairs, you found a landing with a bathroom directly in front of you, and a bedroom to the left and a bedroom to the right. The bedroom to the right (as you faced the bathroom) was mostly innocuous. The bedroom to the left was bad. The closets in both of those bedrooms wrapped around, so that you could walk into the closet of one room and crawl through to the closet of the other room. The closets were horrible.
Whatever was in there did not like girls. It didn't matter if they were five months, five years, or fifty years old. It did not like girls. I remember one night when my brother and sister and I were visiting my grandparents. One of my cousins--I'll call him 007 1/2--, who was a little younger than my brother, was living with my grandparents. The four of us kids were sleeping in the bad room. My sister and I kept feeling that malevolence pushing at us, and it was really, really unpleasant. The guys thought we were pulling their legs, but it was real.
Later on, after my grandmother had died, my parents were divorced, and I had grown up, my mother moved in with my grandfather. I later moved to LaMarque, and moved in with them for several months, until I got an apartment with a friend. The bad thing was still there. And, natch, that was the room I slept in. I learned to live with the thing that was there, but never did feel completely at ease in the room.
One night I got the insane idea to write a short story for the "Twilight Zone" magazine. It was an extremely unoriginal plot with a doll who came to life when no one was around. Despite the banal idea, it was actually a pretty good story. I got a few pages into it before I was through writing for the night. I put the notebook down and went to bed and tried in vain to go to sleep.
I could not sleep for anything. The malevolence of the thing in the room combined with the intensely evil story I had started writing just made the room unbearable. I had to get up, rip the story to shreds and throw it away. There was no chance I was going to be able to sleep in the bedroom that night, so I took a pillow downstairs and crashed on the couch.
I don't remember when we learned what the thing in the room was. A neighbor, who had lived there for years and years, told us that the people who owned the house before my grandparents bought it had a son who was mentally ill. His mother was apparently (reading between the lines of the neighbor's story) pretty abusive, and locked him into the room quite a bit. My personal guess is that she went a step further, and locked him into that closet area.
No wonder the poor guy hated women.
As I read back over this, it sounds pathetic and lame. Trust me--it wasn't. If the thing could have been made corporeal, it would have been hot oozing black tar bubbling with hate, and would have coated every surface in the room. It was real. And it was frightening.
My grandparents' house in LaMarque was haunted. The downstairs portion of the house was innocuous. The way the house was laid out, when you walked in the front door, there was a room to the left, a room to the right, and a staircase right in the middle. If you walked up the stairs, you found a landing with a bathroom directly in front of you, and a bedroom to the left and a bedroom to the right. The bedroom to the right (as you faced the bathroom) was mostly innocuous. The bedroom to the left was bad. The closets in both of those bedrooms wrapped around, so that you could walk into the closet of one room and crawl through to the closet of the other room. The closets were horrible.
Whatever was in there did not like girls. It didn't matter if they were five months, five years, or fifty years old. It did not like girls. I remember one night when my brother and sister and I were visiting my grandparents. One of my cousins--I'll call him 007 1/2--, who was a little younger than my brother, was living with my grandparents. The four of us kids were sleeping in the bad room. My sister and I kept feeling that malevolence pushing at us, and it was really, really unpleasant. The guys thought we were pulling their legs, but it was real.
Later on, after my grandmother had died, my parents were divorced, and I had grown up, my mother moved in with my grandfather. I later moved to LaMarque, and moved in with them for several months, until I got an apartment with a friend. The bad thing was still there. And, natch, that was the room I slept in. I learned to live with the thing that was there, but never did feel completely at ease in the room.
One night I got the insane idea to write a short story for the "Twilight Zone" magazine. It was an extremely unoriginal plot with a doll who came to life when no one was around. Despite the banal idea, it was actually a pretty good story. I got a few pages into it before I was through writing for the night. I put the notebook down and went to bed and tried in vain to go to sleep.
I could not sleep for anything. The malevolence of the thing in the room combined with the intensely evil story I had started writing just made the room unbearable. I had to get up, rip the story to shreds and throw it away. There was no chance I was going to be able to sleep in the bedroom that night, so I took a pillow downstairs and crashed on the couch.
I don't remember when we learned what the thing in the room was. A neighbor, who had lived there for years and years, told us that the people who owned the house before my grandparents bought it had a son who was mentally ill. His mother was apparently (reading between the lines of the neighbor's story) pretty abusive, and locked him into the room quite a bit. My personal guess is that she went a step further, and locked him into that closet area.
No wonder the poor guy hated women.
As I read back over this, it sounds pathetic and lame. Trust me--it wasn't. If the thing could have been made corporeal, it would have been hot oozing black tar bubbling with hate, and would have coated every surface in the room. It was real. And it was frightening.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
I Love Sprint!
They fixed my phone!! So instead of spending $200 on a replacement phone, I spent $59 on a repair.
I herewith resolve to refrain from using my phone in the bathroom.
Doesn't that sound lame and pathetic? See, I tolerate boredom no better than I tolerate fools. I also have ADD. So I find it almost impossible to do only one thing at a time. Usually I'm doing 4-6 things simultaneously. That means sitting in the bathroom for long periods of time drives me batty. That's why when I'm home I try to pass the time by reading. But one can't exactly take a book into the bathroom at work. One can slip a cell phone into a pocket, and play solitaire.
But no more.
Maybe I should cut back on fiber. (joking)
I herewith resolve to refrain from using my phone in the bathroom.
Doesn't that sound lame and pathetic? See, I tolerate boredom no better than I tolerate fools. I also have ADD. So I find it almost impossible to do only one thing at a time. Usually I'm doing 4-6 things simultaneously. That means sitting in the bathroom for long periods of time drives me batty. That's why when I'm home I try to pass the time by reading. But one can't exactly take a book into the bathroom at work. One can slip a cell phone into a pocket, and play solitaire.
But no more.
Maybe I should cut back on fiber. (joking)
Friday, April 28, 2006
Another Lesson I Wish I Hadn't Learned
If you drop your cell phone on a hard, tiled bathroom floor, it will bust.
I know, I know. What was I doing with my cell phone in the bathroom? Well, I had a stomach-ache, and didn't have a book in my purse. So I decided to play solitaire while I was otherwise occupied. One little slip of the hand, and bammo! Smash! It's in three pieces, and I will be amazed if they're able to fix it.
I'm really not happy about this. It's been just over a year since I bought this phone, so no chance of a rebate on a new phone. That means I've got to get a new phone. I could probably do without a cell phone, although it would be inconvenient, except that we don't have a home phone. So, no cell phone, no phone period.
Grumble grouch snarl.
I know, I know. What was I doing with my cell phone in the bathroom? Well, I had a stomach-ache, and didn't have a book in my purse. So I decided to play solitaire while I was otherwise occupied. One little slip of the hand, and bammo! Smash! It's in three pieces, and I will be amazed if they're able to fix it.
I'm really not happy about this. It's been just over a year since I bought this phone, so no chance of a rebate on a new phone. That means I've got to get a new phone. I could probably do without a cell phone, although it would be inconvenient, except that we don't have a home phone. So, no cell phone, no phone period.
Grumble grouch snarl.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Hairspray
My husband is just amazing. A month or so ago, he called me up, very excited, telling me that "Hairspray" was coming to town. He told me to find out if my sister wanted to go with me, and that he was buying us tickets. Well, of course my sister wanted to go with me! I got online to get the tickets, and found some about in the middle of the hall, and they were just fine tickets. But he was all up in arms--no, he wanted us to get the front-row tickets. Yes, the ones that cost about $175 for two tickets. Squee!
So last night was the night. It had been a difficult and frustrating day. Our Mom's in town, and our brother and his girlfriend were also coming to town. I was trying to arrange and rearrange everything so that no one would feel slighted. It wasn't easy, but we finally got everything planned out. So when Liz and I left to go to her apartment to get ready for the evening, we were both in a very grouchy mood. That mood dissipated as soon as we got to our seats. We were in the front row on the left side, about in the middle. We were able to look down into the orchestra pit and see the musicians.
The show was just fantastic. The guy who was playing Edna Turnblad was absolutely hysterical, and he was definitely playing to Liz and me. I know that sounds boastful (along the lines of, "Sting was singing to me!"), but it's the truth. I have a very loud laugh, something that can be embarrassing for me if I'm in a place where I need to be quiet, but something that actors really enjoy. And I don't know how anyone could sit still as they listened to that great music--I think I mostly managed to keep my upper body still, but my legs and feet were dancing throughout the whole show. So Edna looked our way quite often, winked at us a few times, and at the end of the show, when everyone was taking their bows, s/he blew us a kiss.
My husband may have set a dangerous precedent. It was the first time I've been to a Broadway touring production and had seats so close that I didn't need opera glasses. I was able to see the actors' facial expressions. I was able to catch the things the peripheral characters were doing on stage; there was a hilarious bit where Penny Pingleton was playing with her gum. She had the most ecstatic look on her face as she stretched it to ghastly lengths before trying to dangle it into her mouth. And during the sock hop, there was one couple on our side of the stage who were dry humping each other--sounds gross, I know, but it was very funny.
The Bass Hall in Fort Worth is a fabulous place to see a show. Unlike the Dallas Fair Park Music Hall, they do not seat patrons once the show has started. Liz and I, several years ago, went to see "Aida" and "Kiss Me, Kate" at Dallas, and were astounded to see ushers seating patrons all through the show. I have never been to a theatre--amateur, college, or professional--that permitted people to come in after the show had started, and found it extremely distracting. And the Bass Hall is laid out so beautifully that I don't think there's a bad seat in the house.
The summer series includes "A Chorus Line" and "Oklahoma!". I will casually mention it to Joe, just in case he feels like being charitable! I'm joking here--I don't think I'd ask him to do that. That's what made it such an awesome experience. He thought of it himself, knowing how much we would enjoy it, and wanting us to have a great time. And we did, and we're grateful to him.
So last night was the night. It had been a difficult and frustrating day. Our Mom's in town, and our brother and his girlfriend were also coming to town. I was trying to arrange and rearrange everything so that no one would feel slighted. It wasn't easy, but we finally got everything planned out. So when Liz and I left to go to her apartment to get ready for the evening, we were both in a very grouchy mood. That mood dissipated as soon as we got to our seats. We were in the front row on the left side, about in the middle. We were able to look down into the orchestra pit and see the musicians.
The show was just fantastic. The guy who was playing Edna Turnblad was absolutely hysterical, and he was definitely playing to Liz and me. I know that sounds boastful (along the lines of, "Sting was singing to me!"), but it's the truth. I have a very loud laugh, something that can be embarrassing for me if I'm in a place where I need to be quiet, but something that actors really enjoy. And I don't know how anyone could sit still as they listened to that great music--I think I mostly managed to keep my upper body still, but my legs and feet were dancing throughout the whole show. So Edna looked our way quite often, winked at us a few times, and at the end of the show, when everyone was taking their bows, s/he blew us a kiss.
My husband may have set a dangerous precedent. It was the first time I've been to a Broadway touring production and had seats so close that I didn't need opera glasses. I was able to see the actors' facial expressions. I was able to catch the things the peripheral characters were doing on stage; there was a hilarious bit where Penny Pingleton was playing with her gum. She had the most ecstatic look on her face as she stretched it to ghastly lengths before trying to dangle it into her mouth. And during the sock hop, there was one couple on our side of the stage who were dry humping each other--sounds gross, I know, but it was very funny.
The Bass Hall in Fort Worth is a fabulous place to see a show. Unlike the Dallas Fair Park Music Hall, they do not seat patrons once the show has started. Liz and I, several years ago, went to see "Aida" and "Kiss Me, Kate" at Dallas, and were astounded to see ushers seating patrons all through the show. I have never been to a theatre--amateur, college, or professional--that permitted people to come in after the show had started, and found it extremely distracting. And the Bass Hall is laid out so beautifully that I don't think there's a bad seat in the house.
The summer series includes "A Chorus Line" and "Oklahoma!". I will casually mention it to Joe, just in case he feels like being charitable! I'm joking here--I don't think I'd ask him to do that. That's what made it such an awesome experience. He thought of it himself, knowing how much we would enjoy it, and wanting us to have a great time. And we did, and we're grateful to him.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Uninspired Lately . . .
I haven't posted much lately--I've either been working too hard on my other blog, or else I've been too uninspired to write, or else I've been too busy writing to write in my blog! So I stole this meme from Trista.
1. Who was your first Prom date? I only went to one prom--my high school senior prom--and it was with Derek K. I knew him from Sea Cadets, and we went out sporadically. He drove his Dad's Corvette with the moon roof, and we tried in vain to make out after the prom. But long dresses and tiny Corvettes don't make for easy making out. We gave it up as a bad deal and he took me home. The prom itself was boring as all get-out. It was held at some ritzy hotel in Dallas, and the dance floor was the size of a postage stamp. Crinolines and hoops were in that year, so only about 5 couples could fit onto the dance floor at one time.
2. Who was your first roommate(s)? Her name was Gayla. She worked with a friend of mine, and I let her move in on my friend's recommendation. Bad move. I found out after she'd lived there for a few months that, whenever I gave her my share of the rent money, she was spending it instead of paying the rent on time. And I was too ignorant to know that I was supposed to get her added to the lease, so the manager was coming after me for the money. Bad, bad experience. I ended up hating her cordially.
3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk? Whiskey.
4. What was your first job? I got paid to babysit my brother and sister during the summers, so if you want to count that, you may. My first job other than that and other baby-sitting jobs was at the customer service/gift wrap department at Sears.
5. What was your first car? I bought my Dad's old red Toyota Corolla and named it Charlie. Charlie and I stuck together for quite a few years. He finally died in Austin, and I got about $100 for him.
6. When did you go to your first funeral? I honestly don't remember. I think it may have been my grandfather's funeral.
7. How old were you when you first moved away from your home town? Less than two years old, although I don't know specifically--probably much younger. My dad was in the Navy when I was born. My mother lived part of the time with her parents and part of the time with his, until we moved onto the base with him. And then after he got out of the Navy, he was in the habit of moving every two years. So I've lived in a lot of places, and don't really have a home town, per se.
8. Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs. Gibson. I adored her. She was an enormous woman, one of those huge square women, with marcelled black hair. She used to tell me that I was the best reader in her class, even though I was the youngest. I was teacher's pet even then--how pathetic!
9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Miami, Florida. My Dad was working on the phone systems for the national conventions for the 1972 presidential elections, and Mom and my brother and sister and I flew down there for a vacation. I was very impressed with the fact that we were riding on a 747! We had a delightful time. We all wore tee-shirts encouraging people to vote. I remember getting sand in every orifice at the beach. I also remember enjoying walking into the different orange juice shops and watching them squeeze fresh orange juice. It was a fun vacation.
10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with? It was with my next-door neighbor--Rhonda, I think her name was. I thought I was being all cool and sophisticated, sneaking out at night. I've written about this earlier, in the entry about the magical summer. I didn't know then that my parents knew full well I was sneaking out, and didn't have a problem with it. They probably would have been more concerned if they knew what I was doing, but even so I didn't get into serious trouble. Just a little necking with Philip the slobbery wonder. Ugh.
11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them? Dawn H. I haven't seen her since she and her family moved to Dothan, Alabama.
12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house? With some friends in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
13. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsmen? I never was in anyone's wedding.
14. What is the first thing you do in the morning? Depends. If I've set my alarm for 5:30, I re-set it for 6 and go back to sleep. If I've set it for 6, I grumble mightily and then go pee.
15. What is the first concert you ever went to? I think it was Jerry Lee Lewis--my parents took me when I was a kid. The first one I actually bought tickets to was Van Halen.
16. First tattoo or piercing? No tattoos, and I got my ears pierced when I was 12. I had been begging my mother for at least a year or two, and she wouldn't let me do it before I turned 12.
17. First Celebrity crush? The kid in H.R. Pufinstuf. And then Donny Osmond after that.
18. Age of first kiss? 3. Donny. That's all I know about it. Don't really remember.
19. First crush? Donny. When I was 3. I have been told that he and I ran away from home and were caught walking down a busy street in Oceanside, California, on our way to the candy store.
20. First time you did drugs? Haven't. Won't. I have seen close-up how drugs mess up people's lives.
1. Who was your first Prom date? I only went to one prom--my high school senior prom--and it was with Derek K. I knew him from Sea Cadets, and we went out sporadically. He drove his Dad's Corvette with the moon roof, and we tried in vain to make out after the prom. But long dresses and tiny Corvettes don't make for easy making out. We gave it up as a bad deal and he took me home. The prom itself was boring as all get-out. It was held at some ritzy hotel in Dallas, and the dance floor was the size of a postage stamp. Crinolines and hoops were in that year, so only about 5 couples could fit onto the dance floor at one time.
2. Who was your first roommate(s)? Her name was Gayla. She worked with a friend of mine, and I let her move in on my friend's recommendation. Bad move. I found out after she'd lived there for a few months that, whenever I gave her my share of the rent money, she was spending it instead of paying the rent on time. And I was too ignorant to know that I was supposed to get her added to the lease, so the manager was coming after me for the money. Bad, bad experience. I ended up hating her cordially.
3. What alcoholic beverage did you drink the first time you got drunk? Whiskey.
4. What was your first job? I got paid to babysit my brother and sister during the summers, so if you want to count that, you may. My first job other than that and other baby-sitting jobs was at the customer service/gift wrap department at Sears.
5. What was your first car? I bought my Dad's old red Toyota Corolla and named it Charlie. Charlie and I stuck together for quite a few years. He finally died in Austin, and I got about $100 for him.
6. When did you go to your first funeral? I honestly don't remember. I think it may have been my grandfather's funeral.
7. How old were you when you first moved away from your home town? Less than two years old, although I don't know specifically--probably much younger. My dad was in the Navy when I was born. My mother lived part of the time with her parents and part of the time with his, until we moved onto the base with him. And then after he got out of the Navy, he was in the habit of moving every two years. So I've lived in a lot of places, and don't really have a home town, per se.
8. Who was your first grade teacher? Mrs. Gibson. I adored her. She was an enormous woman, one of those huge square women, with marcelled black hair. She used to tell me that I was the best reader in her class, even though I was the youngest. I was teacher's pet even then--how pathetic!
9. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Miami, Florida. My Dad was working on the phone systems for the national conventions for the 1972 presidential elections, and Mom and my brother and sister and I flew down there for a vacation. I was very impressed with the fact that we were riding on a 747! We had a delightful time. We all wore tee-shirts encouraging people to vote. I remember getting sand in every orifice at the beach. I also remember enjoying walking into the different orange juice shops and watching them squeeze fresh orange juice. It was a fun vacation.
10. When did you sneak out of your house for the first time, who was it with? It was with my next-door neighbor--Rhonda, I think her name was. I thought I was being all cool and sophisticated, sneaking out at night. I've written about this earlier, in the entry about the magical summer. I didn't know then that my parents knew full well I was sneaking out, and didn't have a problem with it. They probably would have been more concerned if they knew what I was doing, but even so I didn't get into serious trouble. Just a little necking with Philip the slobbery wonder. Ugh.
11. Who was your first Best Friend and are you still friends with them? Dawn H. I haven't seen her since she and her family moved to Dothan, Alabama.
12. Where did you live the first time you moved out of your parents house? With some friends in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
13. Whose wedding were you in the first time you were a bridesmaid/groomsmen? I never was in anyone's wedding.
14. What is the first thing you do in the morning? Depends. If I've set my alarm for 5:30, I re-set it for 6 and go back to sleep. If I've set it for 6, I grumble mightily and then go pee.
15. What is the first concert you ever went to? I think it was Jerry Lee Lewis--my parents took me when I was a kid. The first one I actually bought tickets to was Van Halen.
16. First tattoo or piercing? No tattoos, and I got my ears pierced when I was 12. I had been begging my mother for at least a year or two, and she wouldn't let me do it before I turned 12.
17. First Celebrity crush? The kid in H.R. Pufinstuf. And then Donny Osmond after that.
18. Age of first kiss? 3. Donny. That's all I know about it. Don't really remember.
19. First crush? Donny. When I was 3. I have been told that he and I ran away from home and were caught walking down a busy street in Oceanside, California, on our way to the candy store.
20. First time you did drugs? Haven't. Won't. I have seen close-up how drugs mess up people's lives.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Horrible Dreams
I had the absolute worst dreams last night. The first involved a detailed scenario of my getting amnesia and wandering the world for 4 years. When I finally did regain my memory and go home, it was to find that my husband had had me declared legally dead and remarried. Compared to the second dream, the first was a joyride, trust me.
In the second dream I was working for CPS again. That's nightmare enough right there, but it kept going. I fell in love with a client and was leaving my husband for him. But then I changed my mind and stayed with my husband. Some friends/relatives of the guy I decided not to go with decided to punish me and Joe. So they tried killing us. I ended up with 4 or 5 gunshot wounds and nearly died, but didn't. Joe had 3 or 4. And while we were still in the hospital, those people told me they were going to keep trying until we were dead.
I woke up sobbing and wouldn't let go of Joe's neck for quite some time until I could manage to calm down. Logically I know that the second dream, at least, was related to A's death. Even that didn't lessen the pain, as I thought of my sister being shot to death by police. We had thought that she died at the scene, but learned a few weeks ago that she actually died at the hospital. The police weren't firing at her, but at AM, the guy she was with who was firing at the police. When they got to the car, they found AM dead and A lying with her head in his lap. When I found that out, I was devastated. I couldn't bear to think of it. It brought all that grief right back up to the surface.
So it doesn't surprise me that I dreamed about it in such a horrifying fashion.
In the second dream I was working for CPS again. That's nightmare enough right there, but it kept going. I fell in love with a client and was leaving my husband for him. But then I changed my mind and stayed with my husband. Some friends/relatives of the guy I decided not to go with decided to punish me and Joe. So they tried killing us. I ended up with 4 or 5 gunshot wounds and nearly died, but didn't. Joe had 3 or 4. And while we were still in the hospital, those people told me they were going to keep trying until we were dead.
I woke up sobbing and wouldn't let go of Joe's neck for quite some time until I could manage to calm down. Logically I know that the second dream, at least, was related to A's death. Even that didn't lessen the pain, as I thought of my sister being shot to death by police. We had thought that she died at the scene, but learned a few weeks ago that she actually died at the hospital. The police weren't firing at her, but at AM, the guy she was with who was firing at the police. When they got to the car, they found AM dead and A lying with her head in his lap. When I found that out, I was devastated. I couldn't bear to think of it. It brought all that grief right back up to the surface.
So it doesn't surprise me that I dreamed about it in such a horrifying fashion.
Monday, April 03, 2006
New Blog!
I've started a new blog. That may seem like a bit much, when I'm not writing in this one very often. I'm working a 12-step program to lead me to sanity with my eating problems, and it's taking a lot of my time and attention. If you'd like to check it out, you can find it here: Virginia S./
I'm hoping to get back to writing here more regularly, and I do think that having two separate places to talk about the different things going on in my life will help in a weird sort of way.
Other than that, not much right now, but I'll update again soon, I promise!
I'm hoping to get back to writing here more regularly, and I do think that having two separate places to talk about the different things going on in my life will help in a weird sort of way.
Other than that, not much right now, but I'll update again soon, I promise!
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Resolution Check
It's time to revisit the New Year's Resolutions, and see how I am doing so far!
1. When someone cuts me off in traffic, I'll say something rude.
Check. Although my rude comments are far less profane than they used to be.
2. I'm going to read at least one book per day.
Check. And some days I read three books!
3. I'm going to read Trista's and Krista's blogs every day.
Check. I also WOULD read Wendy's blog every day, but she doesn't update very often. And please keep her in your thoughts & prayers, as she's having some concerns with her pregnancy.
4. I'm going to go to the movies once or twice a month.
I haven't done this, but mainly because there has been a dearth of movies that I've been interested enough in to go watch.
5. I won't eat oatmeal for breakfast any more!!
Check! No more oatmeal!
6. I'll watch Rugrats whenever I can.
Check, and add Jimmy Neutron.
7. When it gets warm enough to wear sandals, I'll go get a pedicure every payday.
I've only gotten to wear sandals twice, and then we got a nasty cold snap. But I'm still hopeful this will happen.
8. I'll write for at least half an hour every day.
If you count the translation work I've been doing, check. Otherwise, no.
9. I'll take a 3-day trip to Galveston this summer with my sister.
I won't know about this one until this summer.
10. I'll kiss my husband and my dog every chance I get.
Check.
11. I'll go to the fantasy writers convention in Austin in November with Clover, Liz, and Mom.
I can't report on this one until November.
12. I'll dance when I'm at the grocery store and they're playing good music (or dorky music that I like anyway).
Oh, gosh, yes. I get the strangest looks in the grocery store, and I can't figure out why until Joe or Liz points out that I'm dancing.
13. I'll tap dance in the copy room when I'm making photocopies at work.
Check.
14. When there's good cake around, I'll eat a piece.
Check, and may I say that there have been far too few pieces of good cake around!
15. I'll buy the DVD of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" the day it comes out, and watch it two or three times in a row, and watch all the extras.
Check!
See how much easier it is to keep your resolutions when you make them realistic? And can I also tell you how good it is that I didn't make a resolution to lose weight?
1. When someone cuts me off in traffic, I'll say something rude.
Check. Although my rude comments are far less profane than they used to be.
2. I'm going to read at least one book per day.
Check. And some days I read three books!
3. I'm going to read Trista's and Krista's blogs every day.
Check. I also WOULD read Wendy's blog every day, but she doesn't update very often. And please keep her in your thoughts & prayers, as she's having some concerns with her pregnancy.
4. I'm going to go to the movies once or twice a month.
I haven't done this, but mainly because there has been a dearth of movies that I've been interested enough in to go watch.
5. I won't eat oatmeal for breakfast any more!!
Check! No more oatmeal!
6. I'll watch Rugrats whenever I can.
Check, and add Jimmy Neutron.
7. When it gets warm enough to wear sandals, I'll go get a pedicure every payday.
I've only gotten to wear sandals twice, and then we got a nasty cold snap. But I'm still hopeful this will happen.
8. I'll write for at least half an hour every day.
If you count the translation work I've been doing, check. Otherwise, no.
9. I'll take a 3-day trip to Galveston this summer with my sister.
I won't know about this one until this summer.
10. I'll kiss my husband and my dog every chance I get.
Check.
11. I'll go to the fantasy writers convention in Austin in November with Clover, Liz, and Mom.
I can't report on this one until November.
12. I'll dance when I'm at the grocery store and they're playing good music (or dorky music that I like anyway).
Oh, gosh, yes. I get the strangest looks in the grocery store, and I can't figure out why until Joe or Liz points out that I'm dancing.
13. I'll tap dance in the copy room when I'm making photocopies at work.
Check.
14. When there's good cake around, I'll eat a piece.
Check, and may I say that there have been far too few pieces of good cake around!
15. I'll buy the DVD of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" the day it comes out, and watch it two or three times in a row, and watch all the extras.
Check!
See how much easier it is to keep your resolutions when you make them realistic? And can I also tell you how good it is that I didn't make a resolution to lose weight?
One more bit of progress
I had 3 library books due today. I'm not through with them and didn't really feel like going to the library today anyway. So guess what: I renewed them!
Okay, for most people it's probably not a big deal. For me, it is.
A. I knew they were due today.
B. I knew where they were!
C. I knew that I wasn't ready to turn them back in, as I still need them for reference material.
D. I knew where my library card was.
E. I knew that I could go online to renew them.
F. And I went online and renewed them.
No fines, no hassle, and a feeling of satisfaction.
Isn't it disgusting when you realize how easy some things are to accomplish, and you wonder why you never bothered to take care of them before?
Okay, for most people it's probably not a big deal. For me, it is.
A. I knew they were due today.
B. I knew where they were!
C. I knew that I wasn't ready to turn them back in, as I still need them for reference material.
D. I knew where my library card was.
E. I knew that I could go online to renew them.
F. And I went online and renewed them.
No fines, no hassle, and a feeling of satisfaction.
Isn't it disgusting when you realize how easy some things are to accomplish, and you wonder why you never bothered to take care of them before?
What's wrong with this picture?
Well, there's not an actual photograph for you to look at or anything. Here's the deal.
I love to cook. I truly enjoy it. And I love to buy kitchenware.
Back when I first got married, I planned on having gobs of kids. Even though the kids never seemed to materialize, I kept on buying enough kitchenware to cook for a family of 12.
Joe and I have lately been focusing serious attention on decluttering as we're working to remodel and redecorate our house. Several months ago I threw away all of our dishes (only because they hadn't been washed in at least 2-3 months, while I was temporarily living elsewhere). And instead of buying service for 12, we bought dishes and flatware for 4. It's been nice. During those times that we're too lazy to wash dishes and let them stack up, it doesn't take too long to clean things back up.
But somehow I never got around to the dreaded lower cupboards. Oh, yeah, sure, my top cupboards were pretty organized (although I did put another 8 mugs into bags to take to Goodwill this morning). But the bottom cupboards, well, the only time I ever saw the inside of one of them was when I hastily opened the door and shoved a dish inside, closing the door as quickly as possible hoping that nothing would come tumbling out onto my feet.
Today I did two of the three cupboards. In the process, I filled three brown paper grocery sacks and one white garbage bag with things that I am taking to Goodwill. I still have a stand mixer, a quesadilla maker (I'm still not sure why I felt compelled to purchase that), a hand mixer, a hand blender, a blender, a juicer, a waffle maker, a bread machine (but I'm probably going to get rid of it soon--bread tastes better when I make it the fun way), 2 food processors (yes, one is going as soon as I find all the parts for it), a cookie press, a deep fryer----WHAT THE HECK IS THIS ALL ABOUT??? I also still have plenty of mixing bowls and serving bowls. I got rid of all the plastic junk that we never use anyway. I got rid of the extra 7 serving bowls. I got rid of the cookie cutters that I never use because I find making rolled cookies incredibly tedious.
Where does this desire to amass as many things as possible come from? Why? It's not like I was using any of them, because they were all crammed into spaces and hidden behind other piles of things I didn't use so that I couldn't get to them easily.
I've been working on learning to appreciate things without feeling that I need to possess them. I've also been getting much better at not buying something "that will work in the interim." I've done that for years, too. I can't find just the right bedspread, but we've got to have one, so I'll just get any old thing until I find the right one. That has resulted in a house that's so badly cluttered that if someone unexpectedly knocks on the door, I hide in the bedroom and pretend I'm not home.
As I said, I'm improving here. Joe and I saw a comforter set the other night that was almost--but not quite--just the right thing. We agreed to wait until we find just the right thing.
Well, I'm off to take 4 bags of junk to Goodwill. May they bless someone else as much as they're blessing me by being removed from my home!
I love to cook. I truly enjoy it. And I love to buy kitchenware.
Back when I first got married, I planned on having gobs of kids. Even though the kids never seemed to materialize, I kept on buying enough kitchenware to cook for a family of 12.
Joe and I have lately been focusing serious attention on decluttering as we're working to remodel and redecorate our house. Several months ago I threw away all of our dishes (only because they hadn't been washed in at least 2-3 months, while I was temporarily living elsewhere). And instead of buying service for 12, we bought dishes and flatware for 4. It's been nice. During those times that we're too lazy to wash dishes and let them stack up, it doesn't take too long to clean things back up.
But somehow I never got around to the dreaded lower cupboards. Oh, yeah, sure, my top cupboards were pretty organized (although I did put another 8 mugs into bags to take to Goodwill this morning). But the bottom cupboards, well, the only time I ever saw the inside of one of them was when I hastily opened the door and shoved a dish inside, closing the door as quickly as possible hoping that nothing would come tumbling out onto my feet.
Today I did two of the three cupboards. In the process, I filled three brown paper grocery sacks and one white garbage bag with things that I am taking to Goodwill. I still have a stand mixer, a quesadilla maker (I'm still not sure why I felt compelled to purchase that), a hand mixer, a hand blender, a blender, a juicer, a waffle maker, a bread machine (but I'm probably going to get rid of it soon--bread tastes better when I make it the fun way), 2 food processors (yes, one is going as soon as I find all the parts for it), a cookie press, a deep fryer----WHAT THE HECK IS THIS ALL ABOUT??? I also still have plenty of mixing bowls and serving bowls. I got rid of all the plastic junk that we never use anyway. I got rid of the extra 7 serving bowls. I got rid of the cookie cutters that I never use because I find making rolled cookies incredibly tedious.
Where does this desire to amass as many things as possible come from? Why? It's not like I was using any of them, because they were all crammed into spaces and hidden behind other piles of things I didn't use so that I couldn't get to them easily.
I've been working on learning to appreciate things without feeling that I need to possess them. I've also been getting much better at not buying something "that will work in the interim." I've done that for years, too. I can't find just the right bedspread, but we've got to have one, so I'll just get any old thing until I find the right one. That has resulted in a house that's so badly cluttered that if someone unexpectedly knocks on the door, I hide in the bedroom and pretend I'm not home.
As I said, I'm improving here. Joe and I saw a comforter set the other night that was almost--but not quite--just the right thing. We agreed to wait until we find just the right thing.
Well, I'm off to take 4 bags of junk to Goodwill. May they bless someone else as much as they're blessing me by being removed from my home!
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Molly the Wonder Dog
If people think that dogs can't talk just because they don't have the right mechanics, they just don't know anything! When I went home at lunch, Molly met me at the door, gave me a million kisses, and asked me to stay home with her the rest of the afternoon so that we could nap together and I could let her out in the back yard whenever she wanted to. I apologized and said that I had to go back to work, but would be home by 4:20. When I showed up a whole 8 minutes early, she was elated. I got another million kisses, and then she asked me to leave the back door open so that she could go in and out of the backyard as she wished. Since I had to fill out a job application for another school district, I obediently left the door open so I wouldn't have to get up and down 20 times.
And on Sunday evening, after Molly had spent the vast majority of 3 days under my bed (she's very afraid of rain), Joe mentioned to me that he was going to take her for a walk so she could stretch her legs. About an hour later, she scooted out from under the bed and went to find Joe to tell him that she wanted her walk right then, please. He put her off for about an hour, but it's hard to turn her down when she's following you around the house with that big happy grin on her face that says, "I can't wait to take our walk!" I told him he'd better go ahead and give in, so I got out her leash while he put on his shoes and coat. As soon as she saw the leash, she jumped into the air and spun around quickly. That means, "Yay! I'm going for a walk!"
She talks, all right. How about when I sleep in on the weekends? She comes to my bedroom and says, "Momma, you've slept enough. I want my song now." Or when she says, "That sandwich looks really good, and I would be happy to take it off your hands. I'm not saying you're fat--please don’t misunderstand me--but you don't need that sandwich nearly as much as I do."
And speaking of sandwiches, she is truly the most spoiled dog I know. Take tonight, for example. Usually when Joe and I go out to eat, we bring the leftovers home for her. Tonight we went to Souper Salad, and there can be no leftovers, as it's a buffet. But we had also stopped by the French bakery and bought a napoleon, an eclair, and that wonderful pudding that's made of all the previous day's unsold goodies mashed together. As I was explaining to Molly why we didn't have any leftovers for her, Joe was in the kitchen cutting off a precious portion of the pudding. She inhaled it in about 3 seconds--just long enough for me to get a can of Iams open for her.
And she gets sung to every morning. And night. And, well, okay, pretty much any time I happen to be giving her a booty scratch. Which is pretty much any time she wanders in the room and asks for one. She does so by coming up to me for some kisses. When I start scratching behind her ears, she turns around and walks away just far enough that my hand is on her back just above her tail. So when I start scratching, she twists this way and that with pleasure. And if I stop scatching too soon, she will back up so that her head is by my hand again, and repeat the whole process. Sometimes I get a little irritated that she keeps giving me her butt instead of her face, so I'll tell her I won't give her any more booty scratches until I get a few kisses. So she will then dutifully give me a kiss or two on my hand, and then give me her butt again.
Just as I wrote this, Joe wandered into the room with what was left of his precious pudding. Molly joined us with her ball. But when Joe cut off a bit of pudding and fed it to me, Molly dropped her ball onto the floor and opened her mouth so that she could get another bite of pudding.
Yeah, she got it.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Whew!
Well, I just completed my first application for a teaching job. Wow! They want to know everything, including your opinions on the role of education. What are you supposed to say in answer to that? Well, gee, I think education is important. It is--but that's not going to make a good impression on anyone. I tried to just answer as matter-of-factly (is that even a word?) as I talk. There is also an online interview that applicants have to go through; however, I already did that interview for the alternative certification program I am attending this summer. I just had to enter some information into that system, and they will forward my results to that school district.
There are 6 school districts within very easy driving distance of my home, and I would enjoy working for any of them. If I don't get a job with any of them, then I'll look at the other districts. It's a little scary when I look at the calendar and realize I have 2 months and 2 weeks in which to find a teaching job.
Okay. I'm going to take a deep breath, play a few games, and then lollygag the rest of the evening. If anyone is reading this, wish me luck and say a prayer! Thank you!
There are 6 school districts within very easy driving distance of my home, and I would enjoy working for any of them. If I don't get a job with any of them, then I'll look at the other districts. It's a little scary when I look at the calendar and realize I have 2 months and 2 weeks in which to find a teaching job.
Okay. I'm going to take a deep breath, play a few games, and then lollygag the rest of the evening. If anyone is reading this, wish me luck and say a prayer! Thank you!
Friday, March 17, 2006
I Need Your Money!
Since shameless begging worked so well for Trista, I figured I'd try using this forum for some more shameless begging.
My good friend Krista was recently diagnosed with cancer. She has an extremely severe form of cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. She is managing to keep her spirits up through everything, and I have been so impressed with her. She is one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my entire life. After struggling with infertility and a miscarriage, she selflessly started a very supportive e-mail group for others who were coping with infertility. It is in that context that I met her. When my IVF failed and I was grieving over the loss of Tad and Ellie, I was searching everywhere to find comfort and consolation. I found it in her group, and in my friendship with her and her husband. I also met another best friend through that group, Michele. I'm fortunate enough to live somewhat close to Krista, but I even got to meet Michele one summer when Joe and I headed to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown NY.
Anyway, just as she turned her trials of infertility into a way to help others, she is turning her energies to helping others now. She has started a group for the Plano Relay for Life that is taking place on May 5th and 6th. From 7 p.m. until 7 a.m., a member of the team has to be on the track, running or walking--cancer does not take a break, and neither can our team. My husband and I have both signed up to participate, and we will be walking along with her family and other friends that are there to support her.
And here's where the shameless begging comes in. There is always a great need for money to fund cancer research. If you click on the link of the title to this post, you will be taken to my website for Relay for Life. Click on "make a donation," and you can support a truly worthy cause.
My good friend Krista was recently diagnosed with cancer. She has an extremely severe form of cancer, glioblastoma multiforme. She is managing to keep her spirits up through everything, and I have been so impressed with her. She is one of the most amazing people I have ever met in my entire life. After struggling with infertility and a miscarriage, she selflessly started a very supportive e-mail group for others who were coping with infertility. It is in that context that I met her. When my IVF failed and I was grieving over the loss of Tad and Ellie, I was searching everywhere to find comfort and consolation. I found it in her group, and in my friendship with her and her husband. I also met another best friend through that group, Michele. I'm fortunate enough to live somewhat close to Krista, but I even got to meet Michele one summer when Joe and I headed to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown NY.
Anyway, just as she turned her trials of infertility into a way to help others, she is turning her energies to helping others now. She has started a group for the Plano Relay for Life that is taking place on May 5th and 6th. From 7 p.m. until 7 a.m., a member of the team has to be on the track, running or walking--cancer does not take a break, and neither can our team. My husband and I have both signed up to participate, and we will be walking along with her family and other friends that are there to support her.
And here's where the shameless begging comes in. There is always a great need for money to fund cancer research. If you click on the link of the title to this post, you will be taken to my website for Relay for Life. Click on "make a donation," and you can support a truly worthy cause.
Friday, March 10, 2006
I PASSED!
I passed! I passed! whee! Whoohoo! Yay!! Wheeee!
Okay, sorry about that--just had to squee a bit.
I got the unofficial scores for my content area exam, and I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
--doing the happy dance---
Now I get to start applying for teaching jobs, and as soon as I get my official scores in the mail, I can apply for my temporary teaching certificate.
And Liz passed as well! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!
The Webb sisters rock!
Okay, sorry about that--just had to squee a bit.
I got the unofficial scores for my content area exam, and I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
--doing the happy dance---
Now I get to start applying for teaching jobs, and as soon as I get my official scores in the mail, I can apply for my temporary teaching certificate.
And Liz passed as well! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!
The Webb sisters rock!
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