Yes, it's true. The power went out here on christmas day for about 3 hours. Put dinner on hold for that time. The scalloped potatoes (homemade ones, thank you very much) were about to go into the oven as was the small slab o'ham (did I mention I LOVE The Girl Friend?) for heating, the green beans were defrosted and ready for the pan along with butter and almonds when POOF. All went dark and the daily hums that we associated with modern life went silent.
Have you ever noticed that when you have no electricity everything you think of to do requires power? Laundry, oops. Vacuum the rug, nope. Check ebay for that awesome deal you've been obsessively tracking, no go. Watch tv, yeah right. Work on the jigsaw puzzle, hah! (Unless you are uniquely gifted or have immense amounts of patience, don't get one of the photo mosaic beauties - been working on this one, Tigger if you must know, for WEEKS!)
After lighting candles around the house a bit, The Girl Friend played on her mactop, because hers has a working battery, unlike mine. I sat beside her on the couch winding tangled yarn (thanks Wyatt). It actually had a sweet feel to it.
That morning was a bit melancholy around here as GF was missing her family and friends and all the adrenal that usually surrounds christmas day. We had already bought and set up our mutual solstice/christmas gift, the combo vcr/dvd player for our bedroom and we had decided we would do chanukah gifts starting that night, I just couldn't stand to see her be so blue. A few weeks ago she had picked out a solitaire computer game thingy for her mactop as a gift (which was fine as it was on my list to get for her) - she and I are addicted to such things, but the poor thing has been suffering with some demo crap forever! I snuck into the bedroom closet and rescued the gift, tiptoed upstairs and quickly wrapped it. With total aplomb (yeah right) I sat back down on the couch and said, "Every kid should have a new toy on christmas morning" and handed her the present.
So while there was no power, The GF was in her glory able to play endless variations of solitaire. It's really fun version in that it arbitrarily runs animation of silly things across the screen while you play. She is enjoying it greatly and I am so happy.
Finally the lights did come back on and dinner was served, albeit about 3 hours later than intended, but still with candles on the table. It was sweet.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Better than Store Bought
My lovely Girl Friend is, how can I put this delicately, respectfully, accurately.... the opposite of a food snob, true to her southern roots - particularly those roots that run through parks (you know the kind I mean!). As I wrote in an earlier post she is a connoisseur of things like potato chips. Never before have I had Mir*cle Whip, Rice-A-Roni, or Betty Crocker Scalloped Potatoes and Mountain D*w in my home. Never I tell you! Yes Mir*cle Whip and Mountain D*w, there are times she is a walking stereotype.
I, on the other hand, make things from scratch, have been eating tofu and brown rice for about 30 years and had only bought soda for the house once every 6 months or so, previous to our co-habitation. This is not to say I don't love my junk food, but I do try keep it to a minimum and have never had 4 kinds of chips in the house on a regular basis until now.
But love being what it is, I decided that I would gladly have these thing in my kitchen and pantry, that I would happily put these things in my shopping cart. Like I said love. And love being what it is, I decided to make beef stroganoff, the Betty Crocker version off the web even! for christmas eve dinner, as this is something that's kind of a tradition for her. I also decided that since The Girl Friend is a carbo fiend I would make dinner rolls. I also love bread, so no sacrifice there. Well, we go shopping and she picks up those damn ready made rolls in an aluminum pan. I just give up. Really.
Luckily she comes to her senses and realizes she is being rude to refuse such a sweet offer, to which of course I agree. Someone offers to make you homemade from scratch dinner rolls and you say no? I mean there are heathens, and then there are heathens!
So yesterday I get to work, choosing exactly which recipe of dinner rolls from my beloved Cooks Illustrated I will make and settle on version in the November/December 1999 issue. It actually is very easy and relatively quick. They were done just a bit ahead of the stroganoff, I would have liked them to be timed a little better, but hey both were new to me recipes. The dinner rolls look great! I mean perfectly browned on top, just barely colored on the bottom, fairly uniform in size - I have impressed myself anyway.
Of course my stroganoff looks different than any other she has had - the onions are more plentiful and not diced - OMG. Whatever. I know it was passable because she has two plates of it.
But, but, but the best part. She actually concedes that my rolls are better than store bought, something she "didn't think was possible". I am over the moon!
While I am obviously in her life to expand her palette (as well as other reasons, I assure you!), she has determined that she is in mine (again, as well as other reasons) because I have had it too easy what with people falling at my feet over my cooking. I'm sorry, but I don't understand why they should do otherwise. I am a very good cook, no Alice Waters, I assure you, but damned good. So why do I need to have someone so difficult to please in the food arena? I really don't see the need, do you?
I, on the other hand, make things from scratch, have been eating tofu and brown rice for about 30 years and had only bought soda for the house once every 6 months or so, previous to our co-habitation. This is not to say I don't love my junk food, but I do try keep it to a minimum and have never had 4 kinds of chips in the house on a regular basis until now.
But love being what it is, I decided that I would gladly have these thing in my kitchen and pantry, that I would happily put these things in my shopping cart. Like I said love. And love being what it is, I decided to make beef stroganoff, the Betty Crocker version off the web even! for christmas eve dinner, as this is something that's kind of a tradition for her. I also decided that since The Girl Friend is a carbo fiend I would make dinner rolls. I also love bread, so no sacrifice there. Well, we go shopping and she picks up those damn ready made rolls in an aluminum pan. I just give up. Really.
Luckily she comes to her senses and realizes she is being rude to refuse such a sweet offer, to which of course I agree. Someone offers to make you homemade from scratch dinner rolls and you say no? I mean there are heathens, and then there are heathens!
So yesterday I get to work, choosing exactly which recipe of dinner rolls from my beloved Cooks Illustrated I will make and settle on version in the November/December 1999 issue. It actually is very easy and relatively quick. They were done just a bit ahead of the stroganoff, I would have liked them to be timed a little better, but hey both were new to me recipes. The dinner rolls look great! I mean perfectly browned on top, just barely colored on the bottom, fairly uniform in size - I have impressed myself anyway.
Of course my stroganoff looks different than any other she has had - the onions are more plentiful and not diced - OMG. Whatever. I know it was passable because she has two plates of it.
But, but, but the best part. She actually concedes that my rolls are better than store bought, something she "didn't think was possible". I am over the moon!
While I am obviously in her life to expand her palette (as well as other reasons, I assure you!), she has determined that she is in mine (again, as well as other reasons) because I have had it too easy what with people falling at my feet over my cooking. I'm sorry, but I don't understand why they should do otherwise. I am a very good cook, no Alice Waters, I assure you, but damned good. So why do I need to have someone so difficult to please in the food arena? I really don't see the need, do you?
Ritalin Might be An Option
I realize that puppies are, by their very definition, ADD but I truly think our Puppyman may be actually ADD rather than simply having a case of puppy-itis. Take for example Wyatt and the ball. At the park yesterday, The Girl Friend throws the ball, after first getting his attention to let him know there is a ball to be chased. This, in and of itself, no small task of concentration on his part.
She tosses.
He chases.
He captures.
Ball is in his mouth, he is running back to us.
Oh, what's this, barely out of the corner of his eye he detects...what exactly is entirely unclear to the average vision, but whatever it is, in a split second of his attention being pulled the ball is forgotten about, witness his mouth going ever so slightly lax and the said spherical object falling to the ground, while Wyatt's head turns to ..... again, what the hell could he have possibly seen as there is nothing there. I mean nothing.
If it's not some invisible floaty catching his attention it's a scent, with the some lolling ball being left for the human to rescue while Puppyman gives chase.
Okay, I can hear you now, saying perhaps he simply isn't a ball dog and is merely humoring us with his vague attempts to play fetch. To this I say, Fie! He is a dog, he must be ball crazy. He simply must. I tell you he has ADD, if only we could help him with this horrible condition he and we would live happily in ball chasing and fetching land. I am sure that living in the dog heaven that the Bay Area, and specifically in Berkeley we could easily find a vet who would be more than willing to prescribe ritalin, or maybe even aderall which would entirely change our existance and all would be good.
And as a side benefit maybe he would have allowed his stuffed Santa toy to stay intact for more than 2 minutes this morning. I mean it, two minutes and this sweet toy was beheaded, destuffed, and torn limb from limb.
She tosses.
He chases.
He captures.
Ball is in his mouth, he is running back to us.
Oh, what's this, barely out of the corner of his eye he detects...what exactly is entirely unclear to the average vision, but whatever it is, in a split second of his attention being pulled the ball is forgotten about, witness his mouth going ever so slightly lax and the said spherical object falling to the ground, while Wyatt's head turns to ..... again, what the hell could he have possibly seen as there is nothing there. I mean nothing.
If it's not some invisible floaty catching his attention it's a scent, with the some lolling ball being left for the human to rescue while Puppyman gives chase.
Okay, I can hear you now, saying perhaps he simply isn't a ball dog and is merely humoring us with his vague attempts to play fetch. To this I say, Fie! He is a dog, he must be ball crazy. He simply must. I tell you he has ADD, if only we could help him with this horrible condition he and we would live happily in ball chasing and fetching land. I am sure that living in the dog heaven that the Bay Area, and specifically in Berkeley we could easily find a vet who would be more than willing to prescribe ritalin, or maybe even aderall which would entirely change our existance and all would be good.
And as a side benefit maybe he would have allowed his stuffed Santa toy to stay intact for more than 2 minutes this morning. I mean it, two minutes and this sweet toy was beheaded, destuffed, and torn limb from limb.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
I know our dog is smart
But it is seriously scary when he, at 10 months old, has a better sense of the phrase "use your inside voice" than a 4 year old at Target.
Chemo Mania
Did you know there was such a thing? Neither did I. Tuesday was the first dose of chemo for Sunny. I spoke to her yesterday - she was awake, I mean talking fast, and sounding peppy even though she and Lindsay had just gotten back from doing several things. You have to understand my mother hasn't been deeply awake since, oh, sometime in 2000. Really. One trip to one store and she is ready for a nap. So far the only side effect of the chemo she is having is that she is terribly awake - hyper. Really hyper. I suppose it's good to know that it's a side affect, and a good one for her as she got filing done - a MAJOR accomplishment in Chez Sondra. Better from the chemo than because her other drugs stopped working.
Rant, because well, have you seen
the address of this blog?
SBC sucks. There I've said in print, print that might even be searchable if my blog was of any real import or majorly read, neither of which is the case. Anyway. You may remember, my dear few but loyal readers, that several weeks ago my phone line was crossed with a neighbor's (who gets way more phone calls than we do - I'm still peeved about that fact). Well it mysteriously ended, I assume our social director neighbor contacted the phone company.
The other day while on the endless loop of "press 1 for no help, press 2 for even less" hell to reinstall voicemail, our phone line developed a bad case of static. To the point where one could barely hear what the technician (??) was saying.
I called to report the problem (again the endless loop, which I have determined is a way to keep you busy while you wait endlessly and is entirely pointless since they ask for the same information you have punched or dryily spoke in the phone before a live person appears) telling them that the static is so bad I can't really hear them and the only time it subsides is when my neighbor gets on the line and I can hear her call as if it is happening in my living room. With this information I assure them that it is their problem, that my inside lines are not the problem since they are trying to tell me to unplug and replug the phone jacks. ARGGGH. We decide on an appointment time, Wednesday between 1-5pm. I assure them that it doesn't matter whether we are home or not since the problem is outside.
Sure enough we are out doing the Puppyman walk, going to the post office to mail off seasonal cards and a lovely DVD which The Girl Friend has created about our new niece when they come, leaving a note on the door saying, "Oh so sorry you weren't home so we didn't even try to do anything. Please call again and wade through the much hated useless, endless loop of voicemail so we can try again to not solve your problem".
I call this morning. I know this is long, but please bear with me, I rarely rant here {smirk}. This time dailing 611 which has a blessedly short endless loop and I don't even have to wait too long for a live person. The gentleman was rather pleasant while I fumed about the incompetency of SBC, stating for the record that since I have had other such problems with this monolith of uselessness that I am not surprised that despite the fact that the problem is with them, that their so-called well trained technician/repair person couldn't even figure out that the phone lines travel from the street to the back of the house, which was entirely accessible to them and they could have fixed the damn thing yesterday.
In theory, they will appear sometime tomorrow and the nice gentleman, who probably took a long sip from his flask after getting off the line with me, said he would explain as carefully as possible how to access the phone box attached to the outside of our home.
**You may wonder how we know whether the phone call if for us, or Susie the Social Director. It's simple, when it's her line, no caller ID information shows up. So if we don't pick up when you call, it's that we are out. Or that we are peeved at you for some mysterious reason that we will never discuss with you, and let our anger fester until it blows up at some totally bad time, like your child's christening where we are the godparent when we will let loose a stream of words that have never seen the inside of a house of worship and lightening will surely strike you dead for letting us hold on to such anger at you for so long.
SBC sucks. There I've said in print, print that might even be searchable if my blog was of any real import or majorly read, neither of which is the case. Anyway. You may remember, my dear few but loyal readers, that several weeks ago my phone line was crossed with a neighbor's (who gets way more phone calls than we do - I'm still peeved about that fact). Well it mysteriously ended, I assume our social director neighbor contacted the phone company.
The other day while on the endless loop of "press 1 for no help, press 2 for even less" hell to reinstall voicemail, our phone line developed a bad case of static. To the point where one could barely hear what the technician (??) was saying.
I called to report the problem (again the endless loop, which I have determined is a way to keep you busy while you wait endlessly and is entirely pointless since they ask for the same information you have punched or dryily spoke in the phone before a live person appears) telling them that the static is so bad I can't really hear them and the only time it subsides is when my neighbor gets on the line and I can hear her call as if it is happening in my living room. With this information I assure them that it is their problem, that my inside lines are not the problem since they are trying to tell me to unplug and replug the phone jacks. ARGGGH. We decide on an appointment time, Wednesday between 1-5pm. I assure them that it doesn't matter whether we are home or not since the problem is outside.
Sure enough we are out doing the Puppyman walk, going to the post office to mail off seasonal cards and a lovely DVD which The Girl Friend has created about our new niece when they come, leaving a note on the door saying, "Oh so sorry you weren't home so we didn't even try to do anything. Please call again and wade through the much hated useless, endless loop of voicemail so we can try again to not solve your problem".
I call this morning. I know this is long, but please bear with me, I rarely rant here {smirk}. This time dailing 611 which has a blessedly short endless loop and I don't even have to wait too long for a live person. The gentleman was rather pleasant while I fumed about the incompetency of SBC, stating for the record that since I have had other such problems with this monolith of uselessness that I am not surprised that despite the fact that the problem is with them, that their so-called well trained technician/repair person couldn't even figure out that the phone lines travel from the street to the back of the house, which was entirely accessible to them and they could have fixed the damn thing yesterday.
In theory, they will appear sometime tomorrow and the nice gentleman, who probably took a long sip from his flask after getting off the line with me, said he would explain as carefully as possible how to access the phone box attached to the outside of our home.
**You may wonder how we know whether the phone call if for us, or Susie the Social Director. It's simple, when it's her line, no caller ID information shows up. So if we don't pick up when you call, it's that we are out. Or that we are peeved at you for some mysterious reason that we will never discuss with you, and let our anger fester until it blows up at some totally bad time, like your child's christening where we are the godparent when we will let loose a stream of words that have never seen the inside of a house of worship and lightening will surely strike you dead for letting us hold on to such anger at you for so long.
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
It's DONE
The Baby Sweater From Hell! Really. I just casted off the bottom. Should I block it?
I mean it's going to live on a teddy bear, and doesn't fit him. So it's official I have made something besides a scarf or a hat.
On to finishing my mother's ankle warmers. I am using a pattern from a sweet little book, that mom bought me at Flying Fingers in Irvington NY, Easy Knitted Accessories by Jeanette Trotman. Only using one colour and will probably make them shorter since she just wants something to extend past her socks a bit. Plus I don't have that much yarn, just one skein of Brown Sheep Company's Lambs Pride Super Wash in "japanese plum", same yarn as her beret.
I am thinking of frogging the three rows because I started them on Addis 12 inch circular size 5 but it's not feeling comfortable. Of course after reading the instructions more carefully, straights are the recommended needles in size 7. Oops. Which of course is the recommended size needle for the said yarn. Directions? I don't need no stinking directions.
Also need to find a great hat pattern and lovely yarn to make a "chemo" hat for her as soon as possible. Any great ideas? I have lots of patterns saved in my bookmarks, I have books, magazines. But like cookbooks, I like to consult a huge number of sources before deciding. Jennie - Skein Lane..... SOON!
I mean it's going to live on a teddy bear, and doesn't fit him. So it's official I have made something besides a scarf or a hat.
On to finishing my mother's ankle warmers. I am using a pattern from a sweet little book, that mom bought me at Flying Fingers in Irvington NY, Easy Knitted Accessories by Jeanette Trotman. Only using one colour and will probably make them shorter since she just wants something to extend past her socks a bit. Plus I don't have that much yarn, just one skein of Brown Sheep Company's Lambs Pride Super Wash in "japanese plum", same yarn as her beret.
I am thinking of frogging the three rows because I started them on Addis 12 inch circular size 5 but it's not feeling comfortable. Of course after reading the instructions more carefully, straights are the recommended needles in size 7. Oops. Which of course is the recommended size needle for the said yarn. Directions? I don't need no stinking directions.
Also need to find a great hat pattern and lovely yarn to make a "chemo" hat for her as soon as possible. Any great ideas? I have lots of patterns saved in my bookmarks, I have books, magazines. But like cookbooks, I like to consult a huge number of sources before deciding. Jennie - Skein Lane..... SOON!
Barely Related Sad News
I just received an email from a friend, Ann, who I have known for over 20 years. After a very long battle her sister, whom I have never met, has died. The humor, grace and dignity that Ann conveyed about her sister through this, the ability of Ann to find joy in caretaking her dying sister is awe inspiring.
Reading the email, obit and Ann's note has inspired some tears, something resembling real crying for the first time in I don't know how long. I realize that many many women get breast cancer without any major complications but none of them are my mother. It's not fair.
For those who have the nerve to write me things like:
But it *feels to me* that you are losing sight of something very important -- your mom wants to live.
And:
a whole of lot women who get breast cancer re-evaluate their lives, and make major decisions according to their re-evaluations. .... women who say they are grateful for having gone through this, because they have finally understood what is important in their lives *for them.*
Quite frankly, they can kiss my ass. I know all this. This is hardly my first exposure to something like this, nor my mother's. We have both lived quite full lives with many things that have given us pause to reevaluate things. It took all my self control this morning not to write an email back to this person which would have essentially said "BITE ME!" among other less than gracious phrases. I am the one who sat in her therapy session where she realized that the concept of being an invalid had lost it's appeal. A long time ago she had stopped considering suicide on a daily basis as a viable option. Of course she wants to live. It's been eons since she made anything like an attempt not to be here. Sunny is an incredibly brave woman, and she was one long before breast cancer.
Okay. I think I'm done. For now.
Reading the email, obit and Ann's note has inspired some tears, something resembling real crying for the first time in I don't know how long. I realize that many many women get breast cancer without any major complications but none of them are my mother. It's not fair.
For those who have the nerve to write me things like:
But it *feels to me* that you are losing sight of something very important -- your mom wants to live.
And:
a whole of lot women who get breast cancer re-evaluate their lives, and make major decisions according to their re-evaluations. .... women who say they are grateful for having gone through this, because they have finally understood what is important in their lives *for them.*
Quite frankly, they can kiss my ass. I know all this. This is hardly my first exposure to something like this, nor my mother's. We have both lived quite full lives with many things that have given us pause to reevaluate things. It took all my self control this morning not to write an email back to this person which would have essentially said "BITE ME!" among other less than gracious phrases. I am the one who sat in her therapy session where she realized that the concept of being an invalid had lost it's appeal. A long time ago she had stopped considering suicide on a daily basis as a viable option. Of course she wants to live. It's been eons since she made anything like an attempt not to be here. Sunny is an incredibly brave woman, and she was one long before breast cancer.
Okay. I think I'm done. For now.
Knocked over by the Cancer Feather
Everytime I think I've figured out just enough coping skills, read that as ability to forget, around this nonsense, it knocks me out. Since yesterday afternoon I've been in this odd funk. I feel pulled into a bog that slows every step, warps my thinking - actually kind of ends it, and just makes me feel rotten.
I really feel bad The Girl Friend. I owe her a ton for putting up with me. I mean, jeez, I'm a moody bitch anyway, but these days, I'm surprised that she hasn't killed me yet. I'm thinking that the prospect of no sex is the only thing keeping me alive right now. Granted it is exceptional sex, so I figure I have enough good sex karma energy to keep me alive for, oh, say another 5 years of gloom. And that's without another orgasm for awhile. (No honey I am not saying there won't be, just that if there weren't any on the horizon.)
Anyway. I tried waking up for quite sometime before I actually hauled butt out of bed. Everytime I woke up at all, all I could think was "my mother is getting chemo today". It is the weirdest thing.
Normally I love being here in the Bay Area, but right now I can't stand that I can't drive home. It's never been the easiest thing, but right now it sucks so bad it physically hurts.
I need to make an effort to get in gear now, so I am off to address holiday cards.
I really feel bad The Girl Friend. I owe her a ton for putting up with me. I mean, jeez, I'm a moody bitch anyway, but these days, I'm surprised that she hasn't killed me yet. I'm thinking that the prospect of no sex is the only thing keeping me alive right now. Granted it is exceptional sex, so I figure I have enough good sex karma energy to keep me alive for, oh, say another 5 years of gloom. And that's without another orgasm for awhile. (No honey I am not saying there won't be, just that if there weren't any on the horizon.)
Anyway. I tried waking up for quite sometime before I actually hauled butt out of bed. Everytime I woke up at all, all I could think was "my mother is getting chemo today". It is the weirdest thing.
Normally I love being here in the Bay Area, but right now I can't stand that I can't drive home. It's never been the easiest thing, but right now it sucks so bad it physically hurts.
I need to make an effort to get in gear now, so I am off to address holiday cards.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Life Can Be Good
At some point today, I was musing that usually, Bill L would send a box of Fanny Mae chocolates as a holiday gift. I knew that box wouldn't come this year, Bill being the father of an ex. But then there was a knock at the door. At first I thought it was "the box" that The GF had been warned by her mother was coming, but it looked a little small. (I later found out that she thought it was waaaay to small and was about to put on a major pout.)
The box was addressed to me! It was from Hunza Printers, who we use for the newsletter that I organize (which is, tres late, as I write this) for BirthWays. If you ever need a printing job done and well, call Nina over at Hunza, she's lovely and tell I sent you. Lo and behold, it was a box of chocolates!!!! Not Miss Mae's, but Sees, which is awfully, awfully good. I am sure you are probably thinking, well hold on just a delectable lipid moment there girl! If you recevied this box of lusciousness though your lovely organization, shouldn't you share with the rest of the board? Listen here, Miss Hi and Mighty. This newsletter stuff is hellish. I mean it! Sure I could be faster with my end of things but semi-annual event sucks the life out of me. So I ask you, don't I deserve some chocolate to make this go a little smoother?
I ate one piece upon opening the box, a mere 4 hours ago. I sighed, I smacked my lips, and yes, I actually moaned, it was that good. In fact some of the sounds emanating from me this afternoon, sounded suspiciously simliar to those that have bounced off the bedroom walls of late. Happily The Girl Friend didn't notice as she was once again ensconced in her Mactop.
In case anyone is wondering what is coming in the aforementioned box from Ohio, I will let you know. In the meantime we are hoping it will include requests GF put in for her seasonal gift order.
The requests are as followed: her mother's famous freezer strawberry jam, homemade sheep salve (a nasty smelling tar textured, amber colored cure all that is a family recipe), and Mike-Sell's Potato Chips. GF says there simply are no good potato chips in the Bay Area. She is a potato chip snob. Really.
The box was addressed to me! It was from Hunza Printers, who we use for the newsletter that I organize (which is, tres late, as I write this) for BirthWays. If you ever need a printing job done and well, call Nina over at Hunza, she's lovely and tell I sent you. Lo and behold, it was a box of chocolates!!!! Not Miss Mae's, but Sees, which is awfully, awfully good. I am sure you are probably thinking, well hold on just a delectable lipid moment there girl! If you recevied this box of lusciousness though your lovely organization, shouldn't you share with the rest of the board? Listen here, Miss Hi and Mighty. This newsletter stuff is hellish. I mean it! Sure I could be faster with my end of things but semi-annual event sucks the life out of me. So I ask you, don't I deserve some chocolate to make this go a little smoother?
I ate one piece upon opening the box, a mere 4 hours ago. I sighed, I smacked my lips, and yes, I actually moaned, it was that good. In fact some of the sounds emanating from me this afternoon, sounded suspiciously simliar to those that have bounced off the bedroom walls of late. Happily The Girl Friend didn't notice as she was once again ensconced in her Mactop.
In case anyone is wondering what is coming in the aforementioned box from Ohio, I will let you know. In the meantime we are hoping it will include requests GF put in for her seasonal gift order.
The requests are as followed: her mother's famous freezer strawberry jam, homemade sheep salve (a nasty smelling tar textured, amber colored cure all that is a family recipe), and Mike-Sell's Potato Chips. GF says there simply are no good potato chips in the Bay Area. She is a potato chip snob. Really.
Just When It Seemed Safe to Go Back into the Water
This morning I received a quirky forward from my mother of an email from Jane (formerly of Siena College as the director of the Counseling Center), my godmother (yes I know, I know I'm jewish what's this about a godmother but there it is nonetheless).
It didn't contain my mother's writing at all so no way to know exactly what the fabulous Miss Jane was responding to, but somehow there was just enough for me to know, just know deep down, that Sunny had chosen to do chemotherapy.
Of course being her daughter, I chose to ignore this bit of knowledge and go on with my day. The Girlfriend and I took The Boy to the dog park. GF insisting that I leave the house and go with. {sigh} I haven't the foggiest notion of what she is speaking of, I'm sure I left the house yesterday to retrieve the paper. Before that you ask? Hm. Um. Well. Oh wait I remember we to Target, Saturday evening to get the household holiday (chrisoltichanukwanzaa) gift. It was decided that rather than carry the singular dvd player back and forth between the living room and bedroom and doing a dance of wires, we bought one of those DVD/VCR player thingys by Samsung that was on sale. Why Saturday? Because that's when the sale ended, of course! Where was I? Oh yes, I remember now.
We got home and I saw we had a voicemail, which was a celebration in and of itself as we have been without voicemail and caller ID for several weeks, and I spent considerable time this very morning getting services restarted. Hm, it's from Sunny. I thought, "not good, just simply not good, I tell you!".
I call her back and sure enough she has changed her mind about getting chemotherapy and starts....TOMORROW! The regimen recommended to her is "AC protocol, the more aggressive of two the doctor recommended. A is for Adriamycin, C stands for Cytoxan. AC: 4 treatments, every 2 weeks, each treatment followed by a shot the next day to restore my blood count."
She of course was trying to reach me, one to tell me, and to vaguely inquire about whether I could come out there sometime in the next whenever. Since she is also having some computer issues, GF is more than welcome to come, and "yes I know that means animal care but we will work all that out".
Did I mention that I am years behind on cloning myself?
Somehow I found the news of her deciding to do chemotherapy very upsetting. I think that if she didn't do it, it somehow meant this wasn't such a big deal. It feels like each step of this process has been assessing everything as not too serious, unless contradicted. Well damn it, this contradicts my world view that she is fine. She's just fine, damn fine, thank you very much.
So how did she go from sounding like she wasn't going to do to having the first treatment tomorrow? Thanks for asking. I would hate to dump information when it was unwanted. It seems that given all the factors of her particular situation, if the cancer comes back, the greater liklihood is it would return in about 2 years or less. Somehow all this talk of the 10 year survival rate overtook some rather crucial data points. It was easier to think about not doing chemo when it was possible that sometime in the next decade she might have a recurrance. But two years? Well it was too hard to think about that in such a short time her odds might look very different. I don't blame her, I really don't.
But my mind, hell my life, was ordered around her NOT having chemotherapy. The GF is very happy about her doing it because it signifies Sunny doing everything possible. I get that I really do. I, on the other hand, am totally not clear where I am about this decision. Yeah, I realize that she and I are two individuals, even if once upon a time I resided in her uterus and I share only half her DNA. I really do know this but damn it, why is happening. That's really all I keep coming back to. Yeah, it's happening to her, but by extension and 50% of DNA it is happening to me as well. Besides this is my universe, as stated in the title of this blog, and therefore it is all about me. Despite me telling Sunny that it was all about her not long ago. I lied. I am not ashamed. Nope, not in the least. Not even a little bit.
It didn't contain my mother's writing at all so no way to know exactly what the fabulous Miss Jane was responding to, but somehow there was just enough for me to know, just know deep down, that Sunny had chosen to do chemotherapy.
Of course being her daughter, I chose to ignore this bit of knowledge and go on with my day. The Girlfriend and I took The Boy to the dog park. GF insisting that I leave the house and go with. {sigh} I haven't the foggiest notion of what she is speaking of, I'm sure I left the house yesterday to retrieve the paper. Before that you ask? Hm. Um. Well. Oh wait I remember we to Target, Saturday evening to get the household holiday (chrisoltichanukwanzaa) gift. It was decided that rather than carry the singular dvd player back and forth between the living room and bedroom and doing a dance of wires, we bought one of those DVD/VCR player thingys by Samsung that was on sale. Why Saturday? Because that's when the sale ended, of course! Where was I? Oh yes, I remember now.
We got home and I saw we had a voicemail, which was a celebration in and of itself as we have been without voicemail and caller ID for several weeks, and I spent considerable time this very morning getting services restarted. Hm, it's from Sunny. I thought, "not good, just simply not good, I tell you!".
I call her back and sure enough she has changed her mind about getting chemotherapy and starts....TOMORROW! The regimen recommended to her is "AC protocol, the more aggressive of two the doctor recommended. A is for Adriamycin, C stands for Cytoxan. AC: 4 treatments, every 2 weeks, each treatment followed by a shot the next day to restore my blood count."
She of course was trying to reach me, one to tell me, and to vaguely inquire about whether I could come out there sometime in the next whenever. Since she is also having some computer issues, GF is more than welcome to come, and "yes I know that means animal care but we will work all that out".
Did I mention that I am years behind on cloning myself?
Somehow I found the news of her deciding to do chemotherapy very upsetting. I think that if she didn't do it, it somehow meant this wasn't such a big deal. It feels like each step of this process has been assessing everything as not too serious, unless contradicted. Well damn it, this contradicts my world view that she is fine. She's just fine, damn fine, thank you very much.
So how did she go from sounding like she wasn't going to do to having the first treatment tomorrow? Thanks for asking. I would hate to dump information when it was unwanted. It seems that given all the factors of her particular situation, if the cancer comes back, the greater liklihood is it would return in about 2 years or less. Somehow all this talk of the 10 year survival rate overtook some rather crucial data points. It was easier to think about not doing chemo when it was possible that sometime in the next decade she might have a recurrance. But two years? Well it was too hard to think about that in such a short time her odds might look very different. I don't blame her, I really don't.
But my mind, hell my life, was ordered around her NOT having chemotherapy. The GF is very happy about her doing it because it signifies Sunny doing everything possible. I get that I really do. I, on the other hand, am totally not clear where I am about this decision. Yeah, I realize that she and I are two individuals, even if once upon a time I resided in her uterus and I share only half her DNA. I really do know this but damn it, why is happening. That's really all I keep coming back to. Yeah, it's happening to her, but by extension and 50% of DNA it is happening to me as well. Besides this is my universe, as stated in the title of this blog, and therefore it is all about me. Despite me telling Sunny that it was all about her not long ago. I lied. I am not ashamed. Nope, not in the least. Not even a little bit.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Season of Miracles
Okay, I realize this is not a miracle by some folks' standards, but here, in this house it is. The miracle is I have been getting The Girlfriend to eat breakfast at all, and before 11am! Regularly! One secret that I accidently discovered is that she likes oatmeal, how easy is that when one uses Quaker Oats and not the absolutely fabulous steel cut oats. Simple, I mean really. She likes it pretty plain, some brown sugar and milk. I add raisins and walnuts to mine, sometimes a splash of milk.
Of course, this being a very gray morning with thunder and lightning, and Sunday we had a more elaborate breakfast. She actually offered up that she would like eggs and bacon. I decided to warm up the rest of the sweet baguette (that was bought for the fabulous lasagna {November 1994 version} made on Friday) and some grits, because what kind of Sunday breakfast is it for a southern girl, which GF is, without grits. The GF was sitting playing on her Mactop doing who knows what. Well I have some idea she was on some geek board reading her geek pals posts on some obscure geek topic. I do believe she was pleasantly surprised by the spread for breakfast.
I did mention that given last night's {ahem} activities that I thought she could use a hearty repast. She laughed. I love her laugh. What I loved more this morning was this little vignette. I am at the stove tending to the bacon, she walks in saying, "Blah blah......." Dead pause. Walks up behind me and grabs my ass, "God I love that ass. You know I walked in here saying something and completely forgot what I was saying and could only think about how you look in those pants". Did I mention that I love this woman?
Of course, this being a very gray morning with thunder and lightning, and Sunday we had a more elaborate breakfast. She actually offered up that she would like eggs and bacon. I decided to warm up the rest of the sweet baguette (that was bought for the fabulous lasagna {November 1994 version} made on Friday) and some grits, because what kind of Sunday breakfast is it for a southern girl, which GF is, without grits. The GF was sitting playing on her Mactop doing who knows what. Well I have some idea she was on some geek board reading her geek pals posts on some obscure geek topic. I do believe she was pleasantly surprised by the spread for breakfast.
I did mention that given last night's {ahem} activities that I thought she could use a hearty repast. She laughed. I love her laugh. What I loved more this morning was this little vignette. I am at the stove tending to the bacon, she walks in saying, "Blah blah......." Dead pause. Walks up behind me and grabs my ass, "God I love that ass. You know I walked in here saying something and completely forgot what I was saying and could only think about how you look in those pants". Did I mention that I love this woman?
Friday, December 16, 2005
Two Spots of Knots
Can someone explain to me why we get new stress symptoms at random times in our lives?
In recent weeks I have developed this new pain when I am stressed out, and apparently even when I don't know that I'm stressed, like tonight.
This sucks. At least tonight it's only a dull ache rather than the stabbing pain which, mercifully, is short lived usually. It appears on both side of my neck, right at the base of my head. This low level ache/tension thing is quite frankly annoying. I suppose a massage would help. Who knows.
In recent weeks I have developed this new pain when I am stressed out, and apparently even when I don't know that I'm stressed, like tonight.
This sucks. At least tonight it's only a dull ache rather than the stabbing pain which, mercifully, is short lived usually. It appears on both side of my neck, right at the base of my head. This low level ache/tension thing is quite frankly annoying. I suppose a massage would help. Who knows.
Sweater Hell Freezing Over
Can you believe it? It's almost done. Really, errors galore and all. It fits, albeit awkwardly, The Girlfriend's white teddy bear. Kinda cute. Just need to add a few more purl rows. Earlier I seamed the sleeves because I needed to do something different or else the sweater was heading into the trash. Really.
I have cast on and done about 3 rows of the first of Sunny's ankle warmers. She just wants something that is a little extra for those days she wears boots, or something like that. The two skeins of Wool-Ease might work for Linday's one leg warmer (he only needs one for his bad leg). That should go fast on the right pair of circulars.
Next stop, yarn store with The Girlfriend so she can pick out something for her scarf and mittens. Eek mittens. Hope I can do that. I have enough patterns stored away that I should be able to figure it out. Jennie, date to go to Skein Lane Saturday or Sunday?
I have cast on and done about 3 rows of the first of Sunny's ankle warmers. She just wants something that is a little extra for those days she wears boots, or something like that. The two skeins of Wool-Ease might work for Linday's one leg warmer (he only needs one for his bad leg). That should go fast on the right pair of circulars.
Next stop, yarn store with The Girlfriend so she can pick out something for her scarf and mittens. Eek mittens. Hope I can do that. I have enough patterns stored away that I should be able to figure it out. Jennie, date to go to Skein Lane Saturday or Sunday?
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Sometimes forgetting is nice
I attended a sort of board meeting today, where we discusse a collaboration with another mama/baby thing. Can't name names because it's all in process. But the real point is this, I have felt on the verge of tears since getting home. Couldn't pin point the reason. Had a mild tiff with The Girlfriend which allowed me to rant at the walls while she walked Wyatt, aka Puppyman. Still had that somewhere this is thing bucket of tears sitting heavily somewhere. I think I finally figured it out. I saw folks who I had only emailed about Sunny having cancer, didn't write them much. Today was the first time I had to talk about it to new folks. I think that's it. I really do. It seems so fricking silly though. Could that really be it? It's the only thing I can think of, so I guess that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
ENFP?
Since Jennie found this, I figured it would be fun, or at least interesting.
Now I have to go find my Meyers-Briggs score....
Wow, first try, it was where I thought it would be! Impressive, dontcha think?
INFP - Introverted Feeling with Intuition. Which briefly means: Imaginative, independent Helper; reflective, inquisitive, empathic, loyal to ideas; more interesting in possiblities than practicalities. I still think that fits, though I am more extroverted than I used to be, no doubt.
| ENFP You scored 7 Extravert, 4 Sensing, 10 Thinking, and 9 Judging |
| The Keirsey Test says you are/have:
E: An E for extraversion probably means you relate more easily
P: A P for the preceptive attitude probably means you like a
|
My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Keirsey Temperament Sorter Test written by seth-x on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
Now I have to go find my Meyers-Briggs score....
Wow, first try, it was where I thought it would be! Impressive, dontcha think?
INFP - Introverted Feeling with Intuition. Which briefly means: Imaginative, independent Helper; reflective, inquisitive, empathic, loyal to ideas; more interesting in possiblities than practicalities. I still think that fits, though I am more extroverted than I used to be, no doubt.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
A different kind of fruit
Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating. My profile name: niya11 |
Well for cripes sakes!
| Androgynous You scored 63 masculinity and 73 femininity! |
You scored high on both masculinity and femininity. You have a strong personality exhibiting characteristics of both traditional sex roles. |
 |
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Bem Sex Role Inventory Test written by weirdscience on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
The Parking Goddess must have been busy
I just spent as much time looking for parking as I did entering the building, going up in the elevator, signing in, waiting briefly and getting fingerprinted and returning to the car. The upside is I did find parking right in front with time on the meter.
Tomorrow I get the physical where they tell what I know, I'm not dying and get another lovely TB test.
I still have no idea when I start my training or get officially hired. The woman at Human Resources was lovely, I get to go back to see her to do my "official hiring process". Yesterday I did my application for the job I've already been offered. Silliness.
Tomorrow I get the physical where they tell what I know, I'm not dying and get another lovely TB test.
I still have no idea when I start my training or get officially hired. The woman at Human Resources was lovely, I get to go back to see her to do my "official hiring process". Yesterday I did my application for the job I've already been offered. Silliness.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Sipping on a latte
Folks, that's exactly what I'm doing, and lovin' it! My first soy latte in I don't know how long, being the budget conscious girl these days. The Girlfriend is luxuriating in her mocha. We want to thank our beloved Jennie for this most excellent treat, as it was she, who gifted us via email with certificates to Peets - an older and better coffee house than Starf**ks. While at the Peets on Solano, I saw a coffee mug that I must buy for The Girlfriend. It says, "A cup is worth a thousand words". That is so her in the morning. She is the original grumpasuraus in the morning, although she says she is much better than she used to be.
Testing... testing
Somehow it's already 11am and I have accomplished just about nothing. Yesterday I was productive in that the laundry is finally caught up, polished up the stove and the counters in the kitchen, ran the dishwasher TWICE last night, made cat food (yes we make our own) and The Girlfriend made Aunt Lila's chicken and noodles - hence running the dishwasher twice.
This morning, well not so much. Still have to take a shower. Made coffee, made our current usual of oatmeal for breakfast, checked email, did my at least once daily slog through the blogs. Okay, the best thing I did so far was call human resources for my NEW JOB. I am going to the office today at 3pm to start, what promises to be, quite the process. The TB test, no surprise. The physical, well okay, haven't had one for quite some time, though I expect it will be the standard brief event that tells you nothing except you are obviously not on death's door. Fingerprinting! Kinda cool. Haven't had that done before.
Also on the list today is to sort out some phone bill fiasco. Due to a blizzard of mail and bills when The Girlfriend and I set up cohabitation, I apparently paid about $71 to an account in her name from Ohio that didn't have anything due, or some other amount than what I paid. Okay, I admit I have been ignoring the bills in terms of really studying this one other than noting we keep having a credit with AT&T. Just yesterday I determined that it's an account in her name, with an Ohio number. So now, since AT&T and SBC have merged (what are there now like 2 phone companies?), I am hoping to apply that credit to one or more of our other phone bills. That should waste about 2 hours of my time today, with additional time throughout the week, I'm sure.
Big accomplishment for yesterday, I almost forgot! was taking serious steps toward catching up on schoolwork. Now that isn't to say that any actual work got done, mind you, just that groundwork was laid so that it could be done. In my world, that is cause for celebration.
This morning, well not so much. Still have to take a shower. Made coffee, made our current usual of oatmeal for breakfast, checked email, did my at least once daily slog through the blogs. Okay, the best thing I did so far was call human resources for my NEW JOB. I am going to the office today at 3pm to start, what promises to be, quite the process. The TB test, no surprise. The physical, well okay, haven't had one for quite some time, though I expect it will be the standard brief event that tells you nothing except you are obviously not on death's door. Fingerprinting! Kinda cool. Haven't had that done before.
Also on the list today is to sort out some phone bill fiasco. Due to a blizzard of mail and bills when The Girlfriend and I set up cohabitation, I apparently paid about $71 to an account in her name from Ohio that didn't have anything due, or some other amount than what I paid. Okay, I admit I have been ignoring the bills in terms of really studying this one other than noting we keep having a credit with AT&T. Just yesterday I determined that it's an account in her name, with an Ohio number. So now, since AT&T and SBC have merged (what are there now like 2 phone companies?), I am hoping to apply that credit to one or more of our other phone bills. That should waste about 2 hours of my time today, with additional time throughout the week, I'm sure.
Big accomplishment for yesterday, I almost forgot! was taking serious steps toward catching up on schoolwork. Now that isn't to say that any actual work got done, mind you, just that groundwork was laid so that it could be done. In my world, that is cause for celebration.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Trying to Live in Grace
I deeply appreciate the responses I have had about my mother. I really do. All of them.
This has been such an interesting journey already. I have deep faith that my mother will
decide to do what she thinks is best for her, all around, so that means taking into account
who she is emotional as well as physically.
The statistics around cancer are frustrating and also helpful in some ways. There is no right or wrong answer about doing chemo or not. Really, there isn't. Everyone has their own journey to make if it is the path their life takes. I respect the personal decision in health greatly, or I wouldn't be the kind of doula and educator I have been. As much as there is a small piece (very small) of me that cries out for her to do absolutely everything possible to stay alive and cancer-free, there is a larger piece, more of my core value, that says I support any decision regarding treatment she does.
Yes that means if she thinks she should go live on a mountain top in Tibet and eat nothing be
daikon radishes, and kombu tea, then I would go along with that plan. The faith one has in their
choices is a key element to who they are and what their outcome is. This doesn't mean that I think
some people give up or chose to die, it means that I highly value people making their choices, following their heart and soul, listening to the inner voice (whether one calls it gut instinct or god) and finding whatever peace they can in their path.
For me, this journey has included me recognizing some strengths my mother has that I can lose sight of in the midst of all of her challenges. It has brought me to the beginning of a path that is deeply informed that I will lose my mother at some point and it will be one of the greatest loses I expect to ever know. I have been humbled already by this experience, and I expect to continue to be, by this and other things yet unknown.
This has been such an interesting journey already. I have deep faith that my mother will
decide to do what she thinks is best for her, all around, so that means taking into account
who she is emotional as well as physically.
The statistics around cancer are frustrating and also helpful in some ways. There is no right or wrong answer about doing chemo or not. Really, there isn't. Everyone has their own journey to make if it is the path their life takes. I respect the personal decision in health greatly, or I wouldn't be the kind of doula and educator I have been. As much as there is a small piece (very small) of me that cries out for her to do absolutely everything possible to stay alive and cancer-free, there is a larger piece, more of my core value, that says I support any decision regarding treatment she does.
Yes that means if she thinks she should go live on a mountain top in Tibet and eat nothing be
daikon radishes, and kombu tea, then I would go along with that plan. The faith one has in their
choices is a key element to who they are and what their outcome is. This doesn't mean that I think
some people give up or chose to die, it means that I highly value people making their choices, following their heart and soul, listening to the inner voice (whether one calls it gut instinct or god) and finding whatever peace they can in their path.
For me, this journey has included me recognizing some strengths my mother has that I can lose sight of in the midst of all of her challenges. It has brought me to the beginning of a path that is deeply informed that I will lose my mother at some point and it will be one of the greatest loses I expect to ever know. I have been humbled already by this experience, and I expect to continue to be, by this and other things yet unknown.
Why the Eggroll or Dessert isn't appealing to Sunny
The idea of being disabled temporarily by chemo scares the bejesus out of Sunny. As much as in theory she has craved the role of the invalid (this is the truth, heard her talk about this in therapy - don't ask), the reality is not so appealing to her now (thank the goddesses, with and without husbands!). My mother has an extremely low tolerance for discomfort of any kind, I think it's related to her various and sundry mental disorders. It freaks her out entirely. I am talking being out of a particular kind of applesauce for a few days causes a level of discomfort that is barely acceptable. Physical discomfort is just beyond the pale (what does the phrase mean really and where did it come from?).
With the prospect of starting a job, I am kinda hoping even more that she doesn't opt for chemo because I have yet to perfect cloning myself and simply don't think I can fly cross country frequently enough to meet all the potential committments. Her oncologist is talking about starting the regimen on the 14th!! That's next frigging Wednesday! Sunny has not committed to doing the chemo, or if she does it, she hasn't committed to starting on that date. It's a process. I actually respect her process in this because I would hate for her to feel like this: Focusing by Jane Underwood. I totally understand how Jane got there, and I wouldn't want my mother to feel like that more than absolutely necessary.
With the prospect of starting a job, I am kinda hoping even more that she doesn't opt for chemo because I have yet to perfect cloning myself and simply don't think I can fly cross country frequently enough to meet all the potential committments. Her oncologist is talking about starting the regimen on the 14th!! That's next frigging Wednesday! Sunny has not committed to doing the chemo, or if she does it, she hasn't committed to starting on that date. It's a process. I actually respect her process in this because I would hate for her to feel like this: Focusing by Jane Underwood. I totally understand how Jane got there, and I wouldn't want my mother to feel like that more than absolutely necessary.
Rumors of my math skills have been greatly exaggerated
Actually they are not my math skills, it was a reporting of data from my mother.
Here is her writing on the statistics of her care options:
The chemo is to prevent a recurrence, which I have roughly a 50% chance of. Trouble is, there's only a 50% chance that chemo /will/ prevent it. Recurrence, in my case, means metastasis, a word I've never been able to pronounce. Now I think I know why. What other common words can't I pronounce? Not too many. Lindsay went over the actual statistics, and even he says the difference between chemo and no chemo is very slim. He does think it's worth trying, if I'm willing, and he's the type who will carry (and has carried) buckets for me. Of course, it's me filling the buckets, not him. At least he probably won't have to hold my hair. ;-) Yes, I know I have a dark sense of humor. But if anything saves me, I believe it will be my sense of humor. That's my version of "positive thoughts."
Here is her writing on the statistics of her care options:
The chemo is to prevent a recurrence, which I have roughly a 50% chance of. Trouble is, there's only a 50% chance that chemo /will/ prevent it. Recurrence, in my case, means metastasis, a word I've never been able to pronounce. Now I think I know why. What other common words can't I pronounce? Not too many. Lindsay went over the actual statistics, and even he says the difference between chemo and no chemo is very slim. He does think it's worth trying, if I'm willing, and he's the type who will carry (and has carried) buckets for me. Of course, it's me filling the buckets, not him. At least he probably won't have to hold my hair. ;-) Yes, I know I have a dark sense of humor. But if anything saves me, I believe it will be my sense of humor. That's my version of "positive thoughts."
Friday, December 09, 2005
Moments like these, y'all are glad I'm not a human parent
Yes, it's true, I damned near cried. I readily admit it. I didn't even have anything to do with the event happening, and yet I took enormous pride in it. Really. Enormous, I tell you. It made my heart jump with glee, my breathing was faster, I almost shook.
What happened to inspire such great demonstrations of emotions?
You really want to know?
My dog swam, seriously swam for the first time today. Yep, that's all it took for me to beam enough joy to light up the Bay Bridge.
Before this, he romped in the water, laid down like he was in a spa tub, lapped at the salty stew that simmers in the inlet of the Bay. The Girlfriend had seen him paddle for the first time about two weeks ago, I saw such marvels recently. But all of these event were mere dashes of light compared with today. Today, he swam, no paw touching siltly earth, no lie there and lap, but a full out dog paddle over actual distance of several feet.
Yes, I do consider this a blog worthy entry, thank you very much!
What happened to inspire such great demonstrations of emotions?
You really want to know?
My dog swam, seriously swam for the first time today. Yep, that's all it took for me to beam enough joy to light up the Bay Bridge.
Before this, he romped in the water, laid down like he was in a spa tub, lapped at the salty stew that simmers in the inlet of the Bay. The Girlfriend had seen him paddle for the first time about two weeks ago, I saw such marvels recently. But all of these event were mere dashes of light compared with today. Today, he swam, no paw touching siltly earth, no lie there and lap, but a full out dog paddle over actual distance of several feet.
Yes, I do consider this a blog worthy entry, thank you very much!
Talking in Code
It's been bugging me. It really has. While at Sunny's my dad visited, as I have already mentioned. His cell phone rang and it was my sister (technically my half-sister, different moms, ya know), it was clear that we should all be quiet. Don't ask me how, it just seemed clear to me.
Well it apparent that he hadn't told my sister (who lives a few blocks from him in Brooklyn NY) where he was going, or anything about Sunny. I suppose he may have felt like it wasn't his information to share, but it's my sister why shouldn't she know? Yeah, yeah, I haven't contacted her, but I only have so much energy to talk about the damn cancer. It would be nice if he had told her, for me. He never asked me about telling her, but did ask about our cousin who hosts Thanksgiving, so I would have thought he would ask what I wanted to do about my siblings (sis has a twin brother).
I guess the real issue is that my dad likes to keep secrets, he has a habit of lying, keeping people separate, creating weird coalitions and it seemed like he might be doing that again. I don't know. I suppose I could give him the benefit of the doubt that he was being respectful. He really has been a mensch about all of this, calling my mother, checking in with me. It just isn't my sense of him from growing up.
I know he's changed, but how much can someone change. Well I guess I hope a lot since I'm going into a field to help people grow and change, but when it's a parent, your parent sometimes your hope and faith isn't very strong.
Well it apparent that he hadn't told my sister (who lives a few blocks from him in Brooklyn NY) where he was going, or anything about Sunny. I suppose he may have felt like it wasn't his information to share, but it's my sister why shouldn't she know? Yeah, yeah, I haven't contacted her, but I only have so much energy to talk about the damn cancer. It would be nice if he had told her, for me. He never asked me about telling her, but did ask about our cousin who hosts Thanksgiving, so I would have thought he would ask what I wanted to do about my siblings (sis has a twin brother).
I guess the real issue is that my dad likes to keep secrets, he has a habit of lying, keeping people separate, creating weird coalitions and it seemed like he might be doing that again. I don't know. I suppose I could give him the benefit of the doubt that he was being respectful. He really has been a mensch about all of this, calling my mother, checking in with me. It just isn't my sense of him from growing up.
I know he's changed, but how much can someone change. Well I guess I hope a lot since I'm going into a field to help people grow and change, but when it's a parent, your parent sometimes your hope and faith isn't very strong.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Like a sudden breeze
The phone rang with the call I thought wouldn't come. I mean, after 5pm, who among us expects a call about a job. But there it was, 6:02pm and the blessed thing rang with the caller id that made me hold my breath. Only here was the catch, there is this weirdness going on with our phone line. Apparently out of the blue our line is completely crossed with someone in the neighborhood. I'm trying to hear John say the words "we'd like to offer you the position" while a woman's voice is talking to someone else. The woman asks me if I live in Berkeley, which I do; then follows up with asking if I'm near Stannage and Cedar -yep. Damn this is frustrating. She hangs up and I quickly get the HR number from John who tells me to call Monday.
OMG I got the job! A real job in my soon to be new career. Now realize I am terrified, this is huge!
My new employer is La Cheim in Contra Costa County. What will I be doing you ask, as well you should.
Here are some specs, as if were about my new job:
OMG I got the job! A real job in my soon to be new career. Now realize I am terrified, this is huge!
My new employer is La Cheim in Contra Costa County. What will I be doing you ask, as well you should.
Here are some specs, as if were about my new job:
Upon receipt of a referral, the treatment team, the parent or caregiver, client, clinician, social worker, attorney, and TBS specialist (That's me!) collaborate to develop goals, hours and days of service, and discuss relevant treatment information. TBS hours andlength of service are based on the level of need to achieve thenecessary amount of progress.
TBS addresses specific targeted behaviors that are jeopardizing a client's placement or assists clients in the transition to a lower lever of care. It also identifies triggers to clients' behaviors and effective interventions, and passes on successful techniques to caregivers for continuity of care.
The TBSspecialist utilizes behavioral analysis, cognitive behavioraltechniques, skill building interventions and rewards and consequences tostrengthen the client's functioning. Using these techniques thespecialist develops a behavioral plan which targets a specific behaviorwith the goal of reducing or eliminating the identified behavior andreplacing it with a more adaptive behavior.
Wow! I will be assigned a minor, do an assessment, write a treatment plan, and implement it.
Me! Can you believe it? Sheesh. Obviously I will be getting LOTS of guidance in all of this. But, OMG.
Oh yeah - it's a real job in that I get paid! Yeah! I get experience! And and and, I might be able to use some of my hours required for my practicum for my degree. Finally, something is going right.
Except for the damn phone. The worst part of this phone business is, my neighbor gets more phone calls than I do! Why does she have more friends? {pout} The Girlfriend says, "have you noticed that our friends mostly communciate via email?" I have no idea what she is talking about {smirk}.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
You are still sleeping. I am awake, coffee just served to me, by me. The dishwasher is emptied. My email read. I listened to you fall asleep in the opening hours of today, while I tossed the bed figuratively since I was trapped by kittens sleeping along side of me, between my legs and a dog below my feet.
Thoughts swirled my brain as I tried to sleep, anxieties mounting, thoughts piling atop one another like a multicar pileup on the bridge, tottering, swaying in the winds as inert passengers hope not to fall into the inky waters below. In the light of day the thoughts that held sleep hostage are there, but muted, barely staying still enough for me to grab hold to challenge, banish, or wallow in.
I tried math tricks to train my mind around something harmless rather than have it run rampant through the thickets of school, money, the interview this morning, the class I teach tonight, Sunny's cancer, the mess that is my home, my burgeoning size. It didn't really work as I had a devil of a time doing multiplication trying to determine whether a number was prime or not.
I feel held hostage by my lack of school work, my procrasination is not serving any purpose here. It really isn't, yet it holds court as if to mock my desire to move on and up with my working life. Every day I concoct a plan, a schedule that includes study time, and each day none happens. Sometimes I think, if I would just finish my office, so that I have a retreat to do my work, that would help. Indeed it might well, but again that doesn't happen either.
Each time I woke, I searched the boundaries of my body for ways to move that would not upset the position of a feline, too much. It worked, probably more for them then for me. As usual I am quite positive that I had many dreams, but now that I have been awake for more than two minutes, the visions have faded and blended into the maze of memories unrecoverable. The only one that continues to permeate is one about The Girlfriend's family. Apparently in the world of my dreams they have some yearly todo in a hotel, where they rent huge swathes of the property essentially taking over to hand out donations, and yearly stipends to the younger generation with great fanfare that includes trinkets based on the size of the check. Included in the festivies are performances by people who I don't believe were related but perhaps had fiscal ties which supercede blood ones. That part is fuzzy. In the dream I was conscious that this was my first soiree with The Family and I was on my best behavior.
Oh, now I remember a dream that preceded this one, just a bit. It was like being in a movie from the '40s and involved a husband and a wife tale and a box of old fashioned tampons. Yes, I know. I warned The Girlfriend early on that it was a scary place inside my brain.
I have about an hour to compose myself to leave for my interview. I think that might be just enough time to redirect this vague sense of things being very, very wrong and dazzle these folks with charm and off the cuff humor about adolescents in residential placements.
Thoughts swirled my brain as I tried to sleep, anxieties mounting, thoughts piling atop one another like a multicar pileup on the bridge, tottering, swaying in the winds as inert passengers hope not to fall into the inky waters below. In the light of day the thoughts that held sleep hostage are there, but muted, barely staying still enough for me to grab hold to challenge, banish, or wallow in.
I tried math tricks to train my mind around something harmless rather than have it run rampant through the thickets of school, money, the interview this morning, the class I teach tonight, Sunny's cancer, the mess that is my home, my burgeoning size. It didn't really work as I had a devil of a time doing multiplication trying to determine whether a number was prime or not.
I feel held hostage by my lack of school work, my procrasination is not serving any purpose here. It really isn't, yet it holds court as if to mock my desire to move on and up with my working life. Every day I concoct a plan, a schedule that includes study time, and each day none happens. Sometimes I think, if I would just finish my office, so that I have a retreat to do my work, that would help. Indeed it might well, but again that doesn't happen either.
Each time I woke, I searched the boundaries of my body for ways to move that would not upset the position of a feline, too much. It worked, probably more for them then for me. As usual I am quite positive that I had many dreams, but now that I have been awake for more than two minutes, the visions have faded and blended into the maze of memories unrecoverable. The only one that continues to permeate is one about The Girlfriend's family. Apparently in the world of my dreams they have some yearly todo in a hotel, where they rent huge swathes of the property essentially taking over to hand out donations, and yearly stipends to the younger generation with great fanfare that includes trinkets based on the size of the check. Included in the festivies are performances by people who I don't believe were related but perhaps had fiscal ties which supercede blood ones. That part is fuzzy. In the dream I was conscious that this was my first soiree with The Family and I was on my best behavior.
Oh, now I remember a dream that preceded this one, just a bit. It was like being in a movie from the '40s and involved a husband and a wife tale and a box of old fashioned tampons. Yes, I know. I warned The Girlfriend early on that it was a scary place inside my brain.
I have about an hour to compose myself to leave for my interview. I think that might be just enough time to redirect this vague sense of things being very, very wrong and dazzle these folks with charm and off the cuff humor about adolescents in residential placements.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Not Isaiah, But It Is Isaiah!
Dog Park Time. Wyatt meets up early with Piccolo, much to their mutual delight. The associated humans are pretty happy to see one another as well. Piccolo and Ruth leave early, and our family (Wyatt is much bigger now, this was waaay back in May) go for another loop. As usual he is ahead of us romping and greeting. Well he finds his favorite human type to greet - a baby. As usual we call out, No Wyatt, Not Isaiah! as he jumps up on a front pack wearing mama and her babe. The mama turns to us and says, "But he is Isaiah!". We all laugh. Okay the command should have been "No, Not Your Isaiah". We often say, "Not your baby", as in Isaiah this amazing toddler we know and who has a lovefest with Wyatt when they are together. Who woulda thunk?
Monday, December 05, 2005
We Bought Dinner!
Yes we did folks! We had a small influx of unexpected money come in and we spurgled on a few things. More coffee, we had just run out of the gifted coffee from the most wonderful Jennie, a couple of $1 chew toys for The Boy, and a new leash for said Boy, who has destroyed THREE so far.
Luxury of luxuries we treated ourselves to one entree each at Your Place Thai Restaurant. As we were leaving I asked The Girlfriend if we could go next door and buy soda, as a treat. Double spurgle we each bought a candy bar. It was SO thrilling!
Next, paying some rent! YEAH!
Luxury of luxuries we treated ourselves to one entree each at Your Place Thai Restaurant. As we were leaving I asked The Girlfriend if we could go next door and buy soda, as a treat. Double spurgle we each bought a candy bar. It was SO thrilling!
Next, paying some rent! YEAH!
Column A Comes with Eggroll
Yep, the title comes from one of mom's jokes. God she is incredible. The stats size up like this: if she does chemo, she has about a 50% chance of no remission in the next ten years. For the math genuis among us - anyone? Yes, that means that she has about a 50% chance of no remission if she doesn't do chemo. The doc gave her two recommended course of chemo, which my mother characterized as "one comes with eggroll the other comes with dessert". She is SO frigging funny.
She regards chemo as poison, as do I. Kind of on the lines of the old commercials "why trade your headache for an upset stomach". The side effects are pretty wretched. The compelling piece is the doctor suggesting (this is my mother's interpretation please remember) that if she doesn't do the chemo and the cancer reoccurs, well "might as well start digging" - my mother's words.
So yes, after after the phone call I felt pretty damn tired. It was Dog Park time by the time I finished and I knew that Karen wouldn't let me beg off, and she didn't. Yeah yeah, out of doors, sun, wind, looking at the water, watching Wyatt play all good things. I know. We ran into Wyatt's new best friend, Piccolo and her human, Ruth. They are both fantastic and a lot of fun. It's a little scary as one tends to know the dogs names and have no idea of the human's name. Like Jughead - great dog, his dad seems nice, just have no idea of his name. And Leo, a beautiful Weimaraner, who is another of Piccolo's buddies. I really do like going there. We only did two short loops today. Oh well. Some is better than none, for all of us.
She regards chemo as poison, as do I. Kind of on the lines of the old commercials "why trade your headache for an upset stomach". The side effects are pretty wretched. The compelling piece is the doctor suggesting (this is my mother's interpretation please remember) that if she doesn't do the chemo and the cancer reoccurs, well "might as well start digging" - my mother's words.
So yes, after after the phone call I felt pretty damn tired. It was Dog Park time by the time I finished and I knew that Karen wouldn't let me beg off, and she didn't. Yeah yeah, out of doors, sun, wind, looking at the water, watching Wyatt play all good things. I know. We ran into Wyatt's new best friend, Piccolo and her human, Ruth. They are both fantastic and a lot of fun. It's a little scary as one tends to know the dogs names and have no idea of the human's name. Like Jughead - great dog, his dad seems nice, just have no idea of his name. And Leo, a beautiful Weimaraner, who is another of Piccolo's buddies. I really do like going there. We only did two short loops today. Oh well. Some is better than none, for all of us.
Once again, the damned phone doesn't ring
Today is Sunny's appointment with the oncologist. Can I just say that I feel totally out of control being 3000 miles away. If I still lived on the east coast I would have just driven down and gone with, ya know?
I spoke to her yesterday, with her sounding a bit nervous and stressed. I reminded her to breathe, often and deeply, to unhunch her shoulders, and recommended taking Rescue Remedy. She said she had only taken it for physical stress and didn't realize one could take it for emotional stress. Jeez.
Knitting Content: Figured out the joining up stuff for the baby sweater from hell. It is so messed up pattern wise but hey, it looks like a sweater and that's gotta be good for something.
One for the books:
I said yesterday to Karen, "I decided you're right, I did..."
"EXCUSE ME? Could you say that again", as she mutes the television for even more emphasis.
Sighing loudly, reply "It's true that I have...."
"No, start again from the beginning!"
Clearing my throat, realizing I must suffer my fate and repeat those words, "You are right, I have learned a lot by making this sweater, even with all the mistakes."
Actually she has been quite sweet about it and keeps saying how cute it is, with such a loving look in her eyes, like she likes it or something. She thinks it might fit her teddy bear, but I'm dubious. So a few more inches in the hellish broken pattern, finish off in garter for an inch and it's time for blocking - again just for practice.
Now she wants mittens and a scarf. I have never made mittens, so as long as she is willing to become a fashion victim, we are good to go. I was going to make her a sweater but mittens and a scarf will be done faster. Right? Just have to find a good, easy pattern for mittens. I think Jennie's right about the avoiding the Zimmerman triangle tipped mittens. Besides that seems like mitering and I am just not ready for that. Any recommendations for new to mittens patterns? I really do have a treasury of websites stored where I am sure I can find something. Just like asking the question.
Okay I started this post quite some time ago, to distract me from the phone. It has sort of worked except that now looking at the clock on the cable box distainfully staring back the time of 11:03am isn't a good thing. That means it's 2 friggin o'clock in NY! Her appointment was at 10am, okay she actually had to be there at 9am to make sure all her forms where filled out correctly, nonetheless we are talking 4 hours since the supposed appointment. I am trying to think that this a good thing in that she is getting a very complete, with lots of explanations kind of visit. That's what's happening, right?
I spoke to her yesterday, with her sounding a bit nervous and stressed. I reminded her to breathe, often and deeply, to unhunch her shoulders, and recommended taking Rescue Remedy. She said she had only taken it for physical stress and didn't realize one could take it for emotional stress. Jeez.
Knitting Content: Figured out the joining up stuff for the baby sweater from hell. It is so messed up pattern wise but hey, it looks like a sweater and that's gotta be good for something.
One for the books:
I said yesterday to Karen, "I decided you're right, I did..."
"EXCUSE ME? Could you say that again", as she mutes the television for even more emphasis.
Sighing loudly, reply "It's true that I have...."
"No, start again from the beginning!"
Clearing my throat, realizing I must suffer my fate and repeat those words, "You are right, I have learned a lot by making this sweater, even with all the mistakes."
Actually she has been quite sweet about it and keeps saying how cute it is, with such a loving look in her eyes, like she likes it or something. She thinks it might fit her teddy bear, but I'm dubious. So a few more inches in the hellish broken pattern, finish off in garter for an inch and it's time for blocking - again just for practice.
Now she wants mittens and a scarf. I have never made mittens, so as long as she is willing to become a fashion victim, we are good to go. I was going to make her a sweater but mittens and a scarf will be done faster. Right? Just have to find a good, easy pattern for mittens. I think Jennie's right about the avoiding the Zimmerman triangle tipped mittens. Besides that seems like mitering and I am just not ready for that. Any recommendations for new to mittens patterns? I really do have a treasury of websites stored where I am sure I can find something. Just like asking the question.
Okay I started this post quite some time ago, to distract me from the phone. It has sort of worked except that now looking at the clock on the cable box distainfully staring back the time of 11:03am isn't a good thing. That means it's 2 friggin o'clock in NY! Her appointment was at 10am, okay she actually had to be there at 9am to make sure all her forms where filled out correctly, nonetheless we are talking 4 hours since the supposed appointment. I am trying to think that this a good thing in that she is getting a very complete, with lots of explanations kind of visit. That's what's happening, right?
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Traditions
Has anyone heard of the tradition of sauerkraut and pork for New Years. Girlfriend swears it a tradition, I suggest that it is merely one of her Heinz57 families oddities? She says it guarantees a sweet year. Bizarre.
At Least They Weren't Pradas!
This morning, cuddling amongst the animals, Wyatt jumps off and wanders away. Then we hear some chewing noise, not a good sign. Karen says, Do we want to know? Deciding that in Wyatt's case it is better to know than not, I toss the covers off to discover that he is chomping quite happily on the back of my hiking boot! Scolding I let him know that this is not okay, not at all; that I am very picky about my hiking boots and does he have any idea how hard they would be to replace!
Luckily we heard him and stopped his morning snack before he could accomplish a full meal out of the boot, thus he only destroyed one back tab thingy that helps one to put the boot on.
Again I ask, when does the oral stage for dogs end?
Luckily we heard him and stopped his morning snack before he could accomplish a full meal out of the boot, thus he only destroyed one back tab thingy that helps one to put the boot on.
Again I ask, when does the oral stage for dogs end?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Would have never guessed
But I like what it says.
PHOENIX
You are the phoenix! A
phoenix is a a giant, magnificent bird plumed
and wreathed in flame. The phoenix is a symbol
of healing and of peace. The phoenix is calm
and serene in all things. The phoenix also
symbolizes rebirth as this creature is reborn
from the ashes of its death during which it
enrupts into flame and disintegrates. The
phoenix can also be a symbol for faith and for
hope.
Which mythical creature resides in your soul? (11 Results + Pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla
PHOENIX
You are the phoenix! A
phoenix is a a giant, magnificent bird plumed
and wreathed in flame. The phoenix is a symbol
of healing and of peace. The phoenix is calm
and serene in all things. The phoenix also
symbolizes rebirth as this creature is reborn
from the ashes of its death during which it
enrupts into flame and disintegrates. The
phoenix can also be a symbol for faith and for
hope.
Which mythical creature resides in your soul? (11 Results + Pictures)
brought to you by Quizilla
Hm
My japanese name is 中村 Nakamura (center of the village) 歩 Ayumi (walk, deeper meaning: walk your own way).
Take your real japanese name generator! today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.
Girlfriend says it's fitting. Should I be honored or insulted?
Another Day, Not Another Dollar
So today is the third day in a row I have ventured to the “Self Sufficiency Center”. Yesterday spent more time driving there and back then at the frigging place to meet with “my” eligibility worker. Sign my name a bunch more. Had to sign an affidavit that I hadn’t paid my rent. Well duh!
I had to set my alarm last night because my appointment was for 8:30am. And me with no coffee at the house.
Of course I'm thinking um, traffic. Leave and of course no traffic and I arrive early,the doors are locked. Okay, I sit in the car and knit. When the time is close I walk to the door and again “something here doesn’t look like the other”. Of the six of us, three are smoking, two are on cell phones (mine has been cut off!), all of them are wearing newer shoes than I am, and well, everything looked newer than my clothing. Sheesh. Oh and having just purchased a pack of cigarettes for my sweetie - $4.39 a pack! How do these folks afford this habit?
I get a number like I’m in a deli and wait to be called for fingerprinting. Woo hoo,I’m the first one called. It turns out that they want to take digital prints of both my indexfingers. I assure the woman that no one else has the same left index print. Really. Shelaughs a bit, and says for some reason “they” want both. I offer that maybe they areworried I will lose one in a farming accident. I get a big laugh. Thank god she had a sense of humor.
Finally get to the General Assistance orientation part. They had to have gotten this womanstraight from central casting. She is wearing a lovely black sleeveless top and black slacksshowing off some very shapely arms. Completing the outfit are these funky high heeledclogs, which are, regretfully brown. She performs a roll call and someone offers that themissing folks might be outside smoking. Of course they are. “Any one I didn’t call?” A woman raises her hand, Central Casting woman asks her name, “Baby, you were supposedto be here 3 days ago. I had you down for 1:30 today. You want to go now?” Another womanraises her hand and says that “they told me to come in even though I just got here.” Central Casting say, "who told you that?" then whispers "the white guy?" It was so hard notto bust out laughing. She says, a social worker will call us individually and talk to us overthere in a cubicle. “Social workers are different than intake workers, they have degreesand will ask more personal questions, like, do you have any mental condition that mean youcan’t work, and that sort of thing.” I kid you not. Again, I am laughing, on the inside.
Somehow I get what I believe to be the only white social worker. She is very soft spoken,slightly apologetic, in her mid-late forties, wearing a pendent that looks like a Chinesecharacter, and a Native American looking ring. Wonder if she is a lesbian. Can’t imaginewhy she is working here, white girl guilt? Anyway. It’s over quick, and I return to the“cafeteria” (vending machine, two fridge – one of which is dead) to await Central Casting tocall me over to her cubicle. Somehow I must past muster because she calls me “baby” too. Maybe it’s because I’m from NY, which she comments on approvingly (it’s amazing whatthey know about me!). We laugh over a few a things, and I’m done. Do I know whetheror not I will get a damn dime from these folks, nope, but I have to come back on the 14th tomeet with an “employment counselor”. Yeah! I don’t need them to find me a job,I need cash. Now. Yeesh
I had to set my alarm last night because my appointment was for 8:30am. And me with no coffee at the house.
Of course I'm thinking um, traffic. Leave and of course no traffic and I arrive early,the doors are locked. Okay, I sit in the car and knit. When the time is close I walk to the door and again “something here doesn’t look like the other”. Of the six of us, three are smoking, two are on cell phones (mine has been cut off!), all of them are wearing newer shoes than I am, and well, everything looked newer than my clothing. Sheesh. Oh and having just purchased a pack of cigarettes for my sweetie - $4.39 a pack! How do these folks afford this habit?
I get a number like I’m in a deli and wait to be called for fingerprinting. Woo hoo,I’m the first one called. It turns out that they want to take digital prints of both my indexfingers. I assure the woman that no one else has the same left index print. Really. Shelaughs a bit, and says for some reason “they” want both. I offer that maybe they areworried I will lose one in a farming accident. I get a big laugh. Thank god she had a sense of humor.
Finally get to the General Assistance orientation part. They had to have gotten this womanstraight from central casting. She is wearing a lovely black sleeveless top and black slacksshowing off some very shapely arms. Completing the outfit are these funky high heeledclogs, which are, regretfully brown. She performs a roll call and someone offers that themissing folks might be outside smoking. Of course they are. “Any one I didn’t call?” A woman raises her hand, Central Casting woman asks her name, “Baby, you were supposedto be here 3 days ago. I had you down for 1:30 today. You want to go now?” Another womanraises her hand and says that “they told me to come in even though I just got here.” Central Casting say, "who told you that?" then whispers "the white guy?" It was so hard notto bust out laughing. She says, a social worker will call us individually and talk to us overthere in a cubicle. “Social workers are different than intake workers, they have degreesand will ask more personal questions, like, do you have any mental condition that mean youcan’t work, and that sort of thing.” I kid you not. Again, I am laughing, on the inside.
Somehow I get what I believe to be the only white social worker. She is very soft spoken,slightly apologetic, in her mid-late forties, wearing a pendent that looks like a Chinesecharacter, and a Native American looking ring. Wonder if she is a lesbian. Can’t imaginewhy she is working here, white girl guilt? Anyway. It’s over quick, and I return to the“cafeteria” (vending machine, two fridge – one of which is dead) to await Central Casting tocall me over to her cubicle. Somehow I must past muster because she calls me “baby” too. Maybe it’s because I’m from NY, which she comments on approvingly (it’s amazing whatthey know about me!). We laugh over a few a things, and I’m done. Do I know whetheror not I will get a damn dime from these folks, nope, but I have to come back on the 14th tomeet with an “employment counselor”. Yeah! I don’t need them to find me a job,I need cash. Now. Yeesh
Monday, November 28, 2005
One of these things is not like the others
Thanks to a dose of reality from Sarah B, I bit the bullet and investigated food stamps. Sheesh! The phone recording seemed very complete, but it wasn't, as it turned out.
Since I got a late start today, I decide to arrive for about 1pm since the office is closed from 12-1pm. Upon arriving, the receptionist says, "oh food stamps. there's an orientation at 2:30pm". Stunned, peeved and staggered by the prospect of waiting for over an hour, I find a seat. Looking around I notice there is no one who is obviously caucasian except me. I mean no one. There was a charming toddler who was showing off his white and red sneaker to all who would look. However he also was unattended by his mama quite frequently which resulted in a spilled soda of another visitor in purgurtory.
Finally, almost an hour after I had arrived I saw some others, okay two, who were white after seeing many other races represented. One, was an overweight guy reading Ann Rynd's "Atlas Shrugged", moving his lips from time to time. The other was another guy, singing silently but enthusiastically to no music. Really, I looked for the IP*D or Mp# player. Nada. And then there was me, knitting.
Yep I was smart enough to bring the baby sweater from hell. I have never made a sweater, not one. So I pick a patterned one of course. Jennie scolded me for not choosing something simple. Supposedly this pattern uses 3oz of yarn, of a specific yarn apparently because I used this hellicious arcrylic in navy blue - stiff and nasty stuff. Well I didn't even get started on the sleeve before I had almost run out. So I added this much nicer black today for the sleeve. I messed up the pattern switching to the new yarn while I sat at the Self Sufficiency Center waiting for the "orientation".
Orientation my ass. You are handed basic forms. Then specific forms depending on whether or not you raise your hand for additional services. I figure, I'm here, just order me up one of everything. So I write my name, DOB, SSN, address about 2 dozen times to ask for Food Stamps, General Assistance, and Medi-Cal. Hey, they are ruining my day, I should get something out of all of this, right?
I get a little ticket with a number of it. That's the orientation. Now I wait again until my number is called. The ticket says my wait time is estimated at 1 hour and 39 minutes!!!!!!!!! Well I give them a "A" for estimation skills. Finally I am called to the window only to find that I haven't signed my name in another dozen places. Ye gads and little fishes. Anyway, I am assigned an appointment with a worker tomorrow at 1:15pm, and an appointment at 8:30am Wednesday for fingerprinting. Yep, I love governmental aid.
The good news is that I made progress on the baby sweater that is navy blue and black - not suitable for any baby, even if it turns out wearable.
Since I got a late start today, I decide to arrive for about 1pm since the office is closed from 12-1pm. Upon arriving, the receptionist says, "oh food stamps. there's an orientation at 2:30pm". Stunned, peeved and staggered by the prospect of waiting for over an hour, I find a seat. Looking around I notice there is no one who is obviously caucasian except me. I mean no one. There was a charming toddler who was showing off his white and red sneaker to all who would look. However he also was unattended by his mama quite frequently which resulted in a spilled soda of another visitor in purgurtory.
Finally, almost an hour after I had arrived I saw some others, okay two, who were white after seeing many other races represented. One, was an overweight guy reading Ann Rynd's "Atlas Shrugged", moving his lips from time to time. The other was another guy, singing silently but enthusiastically to no music. Really, I looked for the IP*D or Mp# player. Nada. And then there was me, knitting.
Yep I was smart enough to bring the baby sweater from hell. I have never made a sweater, not one. So I pick a patterned one of course. Jennie scolded me for not choosing something simple. Supposedly this pattern uses 3oz of yarn, of a specific yarn apparently because I used this hellicious arcrylic in navy blue - stiff and nasty stuff. Well I didn't even get started on the sleeve before I had almost run out. So I added this much nicer black today for the sleeve. I messed up the pattern switching to the new yarn while I sat at the Self Sufficiency Center waiting for the "orientation".
Orientation my ass. You are handed basic forms. Then specific forms depending on whether or not you raise your hand for additional services. I figure, I'm here, just order me up one of everything. So I write my name, DOB, SSN, address about 2 dozen times to ask for Food Stamps, General Assistance, and Medi-Cal. Hey, they are ruining my day, I should get something out of all of this, right?
I get a little ticket with a number of it. That's the orientation. Now I wait again until my number is called. The ticket says my wait time is estimated at 1 hour and 39 minutes!!!!!!!!! Well I give them a "A" for estimation skills. Finally I am called to the window only to find that I haven't signed my name in another dozen places. Ye gads and little fishes. Anyway, I am assigned an appointment with a worker tomorrow at 1:15pm, and an appointment at 8:30am Wednesday for fingerprinting. Yep, I love governmental aid.
The good news is that I made progress on the baby sweater that is navy blue and black - not suitable for any baby, even if it turns out wearable.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
So happy to be home
It is so nice to sleep in one's own bed. To shower in a bathroom that is familiar. Receive kisses from girlfriend and puppy.
While away it was hard to focus enough to write, to think about myself. I called Greg while I was in NY and he asked what my days were like. "Amorphous" was my reply. It was true. I had no grasp on the day of week most of the time, I stayed up until at least 1am each night, and woke anywhere from 8am to 11am, often if I woke early I went back to sleep. I felt tired and hungry most of the time in ways that didn't seem connected to how much rest or food I actually had.
In true form, I finished Sunny's beret after arrival. I started and finished a pair of booties, a very simple pattern but it gave me a sense of completion that was helpful. We did eat bagels, we did get our hair cut, we did go for great walks. No yoga, but I left her the video tape to inspire her.
For my sanity I finally got out of the house alone, two days before I left and took a scenic drive to Lee's Yarn where I was in heaven at the shelves and shelves of yarn. I was restrained buying the needles I had come in search of and some other accessories. But then I spied the sale rack and swept up the 6 balls of Jo Sharp's infusion kid mohair colour 614. I have no idea what I can do with this yarn but it was too lovely and 50% off! I squeezed this trip in. Later with Sunny, we found Flying Fingers, and she who doesn't knit was in heaven looking at the colors and textures. When she saw that I had bought, along with knitting props and two books, she exclaimed that I was truly her daughter - I walked out with books and no yarn. Even though she was paying, I couldn't justify buying yarn without knowing what I would use it for and if it were enough for the project I would assign it in the future. I love the books I got and plan to make a number of the project so that I can expand my skills. I told mum that now she knew where to buy yarn she like so she could purchase it, send it to me and I would make her stuff. It seems like a good thing to me.
While away it was hard to focus enough to write, to think about myself. I called Greg while I was in NY and he asked what my days were like. "Amorphous" was my reply. It was true. I had no grasp on the day of week most of the time, I stayed up until at least 1am each night, and woke anywhere from 8am to 11am, often if I woke early I went back to sleep. I felt tired and hungry most of the time in ways that didn't seem connected to how much rest or food I actually had.
In true form, I finished Sunny's beret after arrival. I started and finished a pair of booties, a very simple pattern but it gave me a sense of completion that was helpful. We did eat bagels, we did get our hair cut, we did go for great walks. No yoga, but I left her the video tape to inspire her.
For my sanity I finally got out of the house alone, two days before I left and took a scenic drive to Lee's Yarn where I was in heaven at the shelves and shelves of yarn. I was restrained buying the needles I had come in search of and some other accessories. But then I spied the sale rack and swept up the 6 balls of Jo Sharp's infusion kid mohair colour 614. I have no idea what I can do with this yarn but it was too lovely and 50% off! I squeezed this trip in. Later with Sunny, we found Flying Fingers, and she who doesn't knit was in heaven looking at the colors and textures. When she saw that I had bought, along with knitting props and two books, she exclaimed that I was truly her daughter - I walked out with books and no yarn. Even though she was paying, I couldn't justify buying yarn without knowing what I would use it for and if it were enough for the project I would assign it in the future. I love the books I got and plan to make a number of the project so that I can expand my skills. I told mum that now she knew where to buy yarn she like so she could purchase it, send it to me and I would make her stuff. It seems like a good thing to me.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Marcus Welby Lives
Only his name is now Charles Stark and he practices in Briarcliff Manor NY. Really. I mean it. He calls my mother before she can call him back to find out the biopsy report. He visited her at the hospital after her surgery – folks she was there just over 24 hours! He called yesterday to make sure she had made an appointment with an oncologist. This is just too much. I am so happy she has such a great general practitioner as I think it makes all the difference.
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Sunday in Almost New England
Croton on Hudson, NY really doesn't quality as New England, for me anyway. There are naked trees, and some with dulling colors of fall. Yesterday Sunny and I went for a walk on the trail that's at the end of their road, where it was lovely to have the crunch of leaves under my step. The light is so much lower here than in Berkeley so that it feels later much earlier.
The visit continues to go really well. In fact Sunny let me throw out old peanut butter jars - lots of them! What a coup! About 2 dozen went into recycling. Her office area is atrocious but I haven't spoken to her about it yet, maybe tomorrow before we go to the surgeon.
My father and his girlfriend (such a weird term to use, I mean they aren't kids!). Okay, his partner, significant other, oh I give up - his Maddie. I just adore her!!!!!!!!! She is so good for him and doesn't let him dominate conversations, she is funny too. The visit went really well. He brought, as requested, real jewish rye bread for Sunny - she is over the moon. I thought she was going to crawl into the bag. Also, bagels, lox and cream cheese. Ah new york bagels - it's heaven. They have left and Sunny is napping. I will start cooking the chicken livers when I'm doing writing. I have never made chopped chicken liver, at least I don't think so. I hope I can make to her liking. Mostly I am sure that I can.
Oh yes. I finished the beret and gave it to her the other day. It's a great color for her and as expected she is showing it off. Last night she wore it across to the street to the neighbors and of course today when we went out to lunch. No doubt if there is the least bit of chill she will wear to the surgeon and tell him all about it tomorrow. Absolutely she will wear Tuesday when we go to her hair cutter, Heidi.
I do miss being home with my love and I talk incessantly about her and the critters. I hope I'm not boring anyone too much.
The visit continues to go really well. In fact Sunny let me throw out old peanut butter jars - lots of them! What a coup! About 2 dozen went into recycling. Her office area is atrocious but I haven't spoken to her about it yet, maybe tomorrow before we go to the surgeon.
My father and his girlfriend (such a weird term to use, I mean they aren't kids!). Okay, his partner, significant other, oh I give up - his Maddie. I just adore her!!!!!!!!! She is so good for him and doesn't let him dominate conversations, she is funny too. The visit went really well. He brought, as requested, real jewish rye bread for Sunny - she is over the moon. I thought she was going to crawl into the bag. Also, bagels, lox and cream cheese. Ah new york bagels - it's heaven. They have left and Sunny is napping. I will start cooking the chicken livers when I'm doing writing. I have never made chopped chicken liver, at least I don't think so. I hope I can make to her liking. Mostly I am sure that I can.
Oh yes. I finished the beret and gave it to her the other day. It's a great color for her and as expected she is showing it off. Last night she wore it across to the street to the neighbors and of course today when we went out to lunch. No doubt if there is the least bit of chill she will wear to the surgeon and tell him all about it tomorrow. Absolutely she will wear Tuesday when we go to her hair cutter, Heidi.
I do miss being home with my love and I talk incessantly about her and the critters. I hope I'm not boring anyone too much.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Landed in the East
So many things to say. I miss my animals so much, and of course my sweetheart. The plane rides were uneventful, which is always nice. I will be taking some pictures here and there to post later.
The really sad part is I get to this sweet little airport, White Plains, NY expecting to see either a cab person with one of those white cards with my name, or my stepdad. Nope, no one. Okay, maybe they're late, because my plane was late. Hm. Still no one. Go to make a call, not having a cell phone (unpaid bill don't ya know) I go for my phone call. Ha. Not there, left home after specifically checking wallet before. Okay was very tired, having sleep about 4.5 hours. Finally decide to use 50 cents to call the hospital, a guy answers my mom's phone in what apparently is no longer her room. I can't use a credit card to make call, again, what income, have almost no cash. Finally getting a tad concerned but hopeful I call mom collect - sure enough she is there. Yeah! Great sign. She, Lindsay and I get everything straightened out.
I go outside to wait for the cab, putting on my jacket as it is rainy and a bit chilly. I reach into my coat pocket to find poop bags from the dog park, oh my sweet crazy Wyatt, what I wouldn't give for a kiss from him.
Momcat actually greets me at the door which warms me, but she looks hunched over, her face a bit swollen and bags like I have never seen before under her eyes. And tired. She seems to get smaller each time I see her, it's been a year still I last visited.
Later I tell her, "listen I know you really wanted to show off your new bathroom but this is a bit extreme, don't ya think?".
The really sad part is I get to this sweet little airport, White Plains, NY expecting to see either a cab person with one of those white cards with my name, or my stepdad. Nope, no one. Okay, maybe they're late, because my plane was late. Hm. Still no one. Go to make a call, not having a cell phone (unpaid bill don't ya know) I go for my phone call. Ha. Not there, left home after specifically checking wallet before. Okay was very tired, having sleep about 4.5 hours. Finally decide to use 50 cents to call the hospital, a guy answers my mom's phone in what apparently is no longer her room. I can't use a credit card to make call, again, what income, have almost no cash. Finally getting a tad concerned but hopeful I call mom collect - sure enough she is there. Yeah! Great sign. She, Lindsay and I get everything straightened out.
I go outside to wait for the cab, putting on my jacket as it is rainy and a bit chilly. I reach into my coat pocket to find poop bags from the dog park, oh my sweet crazy Wyatt, what I wouldn't give for a kiss from him.
Momcat actually greets me at the door which warms me, but she looks hunched over, her face a bit swollen and bags like I have never seen before under her eyes. And tired. She seems to get smaller each time I see her, it's been a year still I last visited.
Later I tell her, "listen I know you really wanted to show off your new bathroom but this is a bit extreme, don't ya think?".
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
The corset restricting my breathing comes off
Well, in my stepdad's indoubtable wisdom he hadn't yet called me. I called the hospital, got her direct dial, only to get a busy signal. Karen finally got fed up and called the hospital who connected her with a nurse somewhere and put me on. They hadn't turned on the phone in the room!!!
I speak to Lindsay (stepdad) who tells me that things look fine, no apparent spread to the nodes, but they have to wait for the official word in about two days. Says, get this!!!! "I was waiting till we took care of her nausea to go home and call you." Did I mention he's a very rational, non-emotive kind of guy? Now of course they are saying that she probably won't come home until Thursday, so he adds, So I will probably pick you up from the airport myself. Uh, no, not without checking with my mother you won't be! So practical he is.
Breathing is much easier now.
I speak to Lindsay (stepdad) who tells me that things look fine, no apparent spread to the nodes, but they have to wait for the official word in about two days. Says, get this!!!! "I was waiting till we took care of her nausea to go home and call you." Did I mention he's a very rational, non-emotive kind of guy? Now of course they are saying that she probably won't come home until Thursday, so he adds, So I will probably pick you up from the airport myself. Uh, no, not without checking with my mother you won't be! So practical he is.
Breathing is much easier now.
An Ode to Queen
Yes, Queen, the group, not the royal one. I was driving home after the very empty knitting circle at Jennie's church and searching the radio station. On comes "Fat Bottomed Girls". Haven't heard that in years, probably at least a decade. It brought back memories of listening to that song, the first public positive message I had about my ass. Now you might know that most women remember puberty as being marked by breast development, in my case it was the ass.
Remember albums? Well that's what I listened to music on back then, I remember picking up the needle and moving it back over and over to let the message sink into my soul. It's kind of laughable now, given the sweet, little, gentle bubble butt I had back then. I mean how could that little squeeze bottom have caused me any angst. Now, decades of abuse, gains and losses, but mostly gains of weight, gravity of being middle age, spending more time in a chair than hiking around NYC, NOW I have a sizeable ass. I am lucky in that my girl is a proud ass woman. She adores mine, describes it as heart shaped, proclaims that she has yet to see an ass that rivals mine. She's a keeper, I tell ya!
Remember albums? Well that's what I listened to music on back then, I remember picking up the needle and moving it back over and over to let the message sink into my soul. It's kind of laughable now, given the sweet, little, gentle bubble butt I had back then. I mean how could that little squeeze bottom have caused me any angst. Now, decades of abuse, gains and losses, but mostly gains of weight, gravity of being middle age, spending more time in a chair than hiking around NYC, NOW I have a sizeable ass. I am lucky in that my girl is a proud ass woman. She adores mine, describes it as heart shaped, proclaims that she has yet to see an ass that rivals mine. She's a keeper, I tell ya!
Monday, November 07, 2005
Gathering the troops
What troops you might ask? What indeed. I just couldn't think of a title. I guess the troops of support inside my own head and heart, and outside forces as well. By this time tomorrow momcat's surgery should be over, since it's noonish here, and 3pmish in NY. But I will be here, in the gloomy Bay Area (where is that DAMN sun!), waiting for a phone call ideally from her, but her husband would be fine too. With all that is possible and the universe full of light I am hoping that whoever I speak to will tell me that there is no spread of cancer cells, that the most basic of mastectomies has been done, and she is doing great.
We had a great call the other day discussing what all we would be doing while I was there. She has been sounding really good, I am thanking the goddesses with difficult mothers that her meds were adjusted before this and working so well. I do expect a crash once I'm actually there. Our plan is to go for walks, do light yoga (I really need to do something my body is going to hell in a handbasket!), and try to have fun. I have encouraged her to get a massage while I am there, we may go get our hair cut at her favorite place which only uses Aveda products and is all new agey sounding - just her kind of place. Lord knows that I haven't been able to afford a trim and besides that I have no idea what to do next with my hair. Any suggestions?
We had a great call the other day discussing what all we would be doing while I was there. She has been sounding really good, I am thanking the goddesses with difficult mothers that her meds were adjusted before this and working so well. I do expect a crash once I'm actually there. Our plan is to go for walks, do light yoga (I really need to do something my body is going to hell in a handbasket!), and try to have fun. I have encouraged her to get a massage while I am there, we may go get our hair cut at her favorite place which only uses Aveda products and is all new agey sounding - just her kind of place. Lord knows that I haven't been able to afford a trim and besides that I have no idea what to do next with my hair. Any suggestions?
This should make my girlfriend laugh
The Warrior Princess
You are strong, courageous, and dynamic, a woman of
action. You have an iron will and a sharp
tongue. Indecisive, weak, or wishy-washy people
test your patience. You tend to grow bored
quickly and yearn for excitement.
Role Models: Brunhilde/The Valkyries, Xena
You are most likely to: Lead your people to victory
against an army of orcs.
What Kind of Princess are You? - Beautiful Artwork
brought to you by Quizilla
So not what I would have thought
Jennie sends me this quiz, What kind of knitting needle are you? Ifound the blog first and that person got pink aluminum, retro like. Jennie gets interchangeable. I get:
You are plastic.
Futuristic, milky, and silky, you are willing to go
where no crafter has gone before. You can do
just about anything, with strength agility, and
pretty colors to boot! While you are good at
slipping and sliding out of sticky situations,
remember to stay where and when you are needed.
Don't overdo it on star gazing when there's
earthbound knitting to be done!
What kind of knitting needles are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I do like the description and that only 6% of takers (over 2000) have gotten this result. I helps me to maintain the illusion of my strikingly unique self.
You are plastic.
Futuristic, milky, and silky, you are willing to go
where no crafter has gone before. You can do
just about anything, with strength agility, and
pretty colors to boot! While you are good at
slipping and sliding out of sticky situations,
remember to stay where and when you are needed.
Don't overdo it on star gazing when there's
earthbound knitting to be done!
What kind of knitting needles are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I do like the description and that only 6% of takers (over 2000) have gotten this result. I helps me to maintain the illusion of my strikingly unique self.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Gray day, gray me
So I woke up and was mildly productive, fighting the encroaching ennui. (How's that for fancy language?) It worked pretty well for awhile, but my focus was, well, incapable of anything of real import. Laundry, dishes, feline care, going through the Sunday coupons - done. Studying, not done. I tried, I seriously did. I dutifully rounded up the syllabus, looked at the possible threads to reply on (once the reading was done), realized I needed my state's code of ethics. Found them, printed them. Opened the book and couldn't make the words connect.
Felt like maybe I should talk to someone, but really couldn't figure out anyone who seemed like a good choice. Everyone just seemed shy of what I needed. One that hurt was that I just don't trust Michele enough to really call her right now. Especially given her lack of follow up with me the last time I told her something heavy. I did tell her about my mom, but I haven't heard from her since. No surprise but doesn't make her a great choice at the moment. The only person I could think of is the one person who won't speak to me and hasn't for nearly five years. Denis. I miss him so much, even when I am so angry at him, like now. His absence leaves such a void in my life. I suppose given that I am facing my mother's mortality, I am grasping at not losing anyone else, though I suspect he really is long gone.
So, since there was no one to call, I decided to blog, only to not be able to get on, since I am now working on the Junior Miss laptop as Serving Tray is not well. My login crap isn't stored here. I kept trying to get on with the wrong user name. Figured it out, finally. Did I mention that I am having trouble focusing today? So here I am trying to find the, I don't know what, to get caught up in Ethics (owe two weeks now since I finally did Week 3 yesterday) and Relationship and Family Intervention (two weeks behind). We won't even talk about the other classes since they don't have weekly assignment. From skimming through the Blackboard system (my school is online) I see that I already owe a couple of papers and again, we won't discuss what's coming up.
Maybe I should just try another class entirely.
Or knit. Finished girlfriend's ear warmer/head band. Don't think she's worn yet! Fine. It was rainy and miserable today when she went to the dog park. Fie!
Made great progress on the beret for mum only to realize that it would fit a small dog. Took it out and am trying a new pattern. If I get cranking it should be finished before I leave. I am thinking of trying to make fingerless gloves to match. If I have enough yarn. Who knows.
Okay. Maybe some dinner would help. Thai shrimp Gyozas perhaps? They are in the freezer, easy to prepare. Off to try something.
Felt like maybe I should talk to someone, but really couldn't figure out anyone who seemed like a good choice. Everyone just seemed shy of what I needed. One that hurt was that I just don't trust Michele enough to really call her right now. Especially given her lack of follow up with me the last time I told her something heavy. I did tell her about my mom, but I haven't heard from her since. No surprise but doesn't make her a great choice at the moment. The only person I could think of is the one person who won't speak to me and hasn't for nearly five years. Denis. I miss him so much, even when I am so angry at him, like now. His absence leaves such a void in my life. I suppose given that I am facing my mother's mortality, I am grasping at not losing anyone else, though I suspect he really is long gone.
So, since there was no one to call, I decided to blog, only to not be able to get on, since I am now working on the Junior Miss laptop as Serving Tray is not well. My login crap isn't stored here. I kept trying to get on with the wrong user name. Figured it out, finally. Did I mention that I am having trouble focusing today? So here I am trying to find the, I don't know what, to get caught up in Ethics (owe two weeks now since I finally did Week 3 yesterday) and Relationship and Family Intervention (two weeks behind). We won't even talk about the other classes since they don't have weekly assignment. From skimming through the Blackboard system (my school is online) I see that I already owe a couple of papers and again, we won't discuss what's coming up.
Maybe I should just try another class entirely.
Or knit. Finished girlfriend's ear warmer/head band. Don't think she's worn yet! Fine. It was rainy and miserable today when she went to the dog park. Fie!
Made great progress on the beret for mum only to realize that it would fit a small dog. Took it out and am trying a new pattern. If I get cranking it should be finished before I leave. I am thinking of trying to make fingerless gloves to match. If I have enough yarn. Who knows.
Okay. Maybe some dinner would help. Thai shrimp Gyozas perhaps? They are in the freezer, easy to prepare. Off to try something.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
I am a -
Dash
I would have guessed a period - definitive, a tad judgemental. Who knew?
I would have guessed a period - definitive, a tad judgemental. Who knew?
| Dash You scored 23% Sociability and 47% Sophistication! |
There's no denying that you have a certain flair. You don't mind being around others, especially your little brother, the hyphen, but you rarely emerge except when needed. You respond well to those who know how to treat you, but have only contempt for those who don't--you tend to embarass them every chance you get. Your only enemy is the colon--he will sometimes try to move in on your turf. |
 |
My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
|
| Link: The Which Punctuation Mark Are You Test written by Gazda on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test |
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Autumn Light
A little bit ago I asked the girlfriend about dinner. I wasn't hungry, it was the light, hanging low with a shimmer more yellow than gold casting lathes of light through the slats of the window blinds.
In many ways this is my favorite time of year, though I am still learning to notice all the different ways autumn manifests itself here in California, which is so different from New England.
It's been a very up and down day in my head. I woke up positive and active, when suddenly like the coastal fog I so dearly love, this foul gray crabbiness descended. Pushing past the crabbiness I finally got some things done that could have and should have been done about 6 weeks ago. Nothing like plans to leave town to up the ante. One moment chipper, the next blah, the next almost downright perky, the next glum. More tiring than a roller coaster without any of the fun.
From my couch, which is my perch until I finish my office and have a second perch, I can see the olive tree which doesn't seem to change color. The other window has some sort of leafed tree thing which is changing colors in the muted way of of a female bird.
Tuesday morning I woke up at 7 something and thought one week from today my mother will be in surgery. Yesterday I thought this time next week I will be on a plane. My therapist said that the diagnosis of cancer has very much of before an after flavor. What I found staggering is that I realized that it had only, or already been two weeks since we got the biopsy results. Wow. I guess Laura (the therapist) is right. Instead of b.c.e (before common era), my life will now have a bbc (before breast cancer) demarcation. Weird. I suppose there are other before and after events but there are few that will turn into anniversaries.
The light has sunk lower and beams of light are gone leaving just a low light peeking through. I think it's time to do other things.
In many ways this is my favorite time of year, though I am still learning to notice all the different ways autumn manifests itself here in California, which is so different from New England.
It's been a very up and down day in my head. I woke up positive and active, when suddenly like the coastal fog I so dearly love, this foul gray crabbiness descended. Pushing past the crabbiness I finally got some things done that could have and should have been done about 6 weeks ago. Nothing like plans to leave town to up the ante. One moment chipper, the next blah, the next almost downright perky, the next glum. More tiring than a roller coaster without any of the fun.
From my couch, which is my perch until I finish my office and have a second perch, I can see the olive tree which doesn't seem to change color. The other window has some sort of leafed tree thing which is changing colors in the muted way of of a female bird.
Tuesday morning I woke up at 7 something and thought one week from today my mother will be in surgery. Yesterday I thought this time next week I will be on a plane. My therapist said that the diagnosis of cancer has very much of before an after flavor. What I found staggering is that I realized that it had only, or already been two weeks since we got the biopsy results. Wow. I guess Laura (the therapist) is right. Instead of b.c.e (before common era), my life will now have a bbc (before breast cancer) demarcation. Weird. I suppose there are other before and after events but there are few that will turn into anniversaries.
The light has sunk lower and beams of light are gone leaving just a low light peeking through. I think it's time to do other things.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)