A lot has happened since May. Maybe I have a...I can't say it. I've been dating someone. I said to him the other day, "we're dating, right?" And he says, "we are?" I say, "aren't we?" He says, "It sounds more real when you say it."
It doesn't feel real. Met him for the first time six weeks ago. We met via an app. You know how long that's been going on. How many years...so many years. I was fine at first. One date a week for four weeks...things were slow and then they sped up. Now, after six weeks and three sleepovers, I'm finally starting to feel that nagging anxiety that dating often brings me.
But other things. The Musician. I was booked back-to-back on the first date. First the new guy, then the Musician. The date went well and ran long. The Musician never got back to me. Really never: to this day, I still haven't heard from him. We'd seemed to be back on an even keel, but perhaps not? Doesn't matter. I sent him a multi-part text the other day wishing him well and saying it was over. I didn't mention that I'm seeing someone because that's not why it's over. For sure having a new guy gave me the courage to cut him off, but it's not the main reason.
My friend, the one who gave me the silent treatment, is back to being my friend, but we're definitely not as close. He doesn't text me as often. Which is not only fine but preferable. We may have dinner this week, though. Good. I still want to be his friend, I just don't want to be his therapist.
So, Mr. New Guy. He's pretty good, pretty interesting, pretty cute, pretty unusual. He's a vegan yogi with a software job. He's also got some heavy issues that need resolving before I can get 100% on board (I'm at about 85% now)...but he is actively working to resolve them. Number one, he needs to move and he's been looking at apartments. Does my mom still read this? Lord, I hope not. I'm not planning to tell her about him until he has a signed lease. But I'm itching for him to meet my friends. He is very sweet and says a lot of nice things to me--which I love but also have a hard time believing. But he believes it. Can I actually allow someone to like me this much? Can I take it? Can the issues that need resolving actually be resolved or am I fooling myself? When they are resolved, will he be gone like the wind? (Issue number 2 is both serious and easy to resolve and doesn't involve outside parties, unlike issue number 1. I'm giving him a chance and if he's sincere otherwise, I think he'll come through. That it was even an issue led to a pretty surprising meltdown on my part and I don't even know why he stuck around for that.)
This dude loves old radio shows as much as I do. Same politics. Musician. Lived in lot of the same places, notably NC. Much older half siblings. Still a very different cultural background and not a talker. I did *so much* talking on our first few dates. It's like I hadn't talked in years. He just sucked up all my stories like a sponge. He liked them and liked hearing me tell them. I've been struggling to get him to open up, and the other day he just started talking. It was like a real conversation--I'd mentioned something about my grade school years, and that reminded him of something and he told me about it. It was a major breakthrough even if he didn't notice. It all bodes well, but I have such doubts and worries. I know I will see him again. I don't know what's going to happen. Anything could happen. Anything.
Grateful for: patience.
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Showing posts with label friends. Show all posts
Monday, September 24, 2018
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Country life
My visit to England is going very well. I'm relaxed and having a great time. I love that I can make myself understood so easily! That I can annoy innocent clerks with my friendly chit-chat--who knew that was something that would be missed?
Other unexpected things: Learning to play Wii Lego Star Wars. You may not know this about me, but I'm not much of a video game fan/expert/whatever. I never had a gaming system growing up and except for a brief addiction to Tetris, I've never spent much time playing video games. (As a teenager, I was rather fond of pinball.)
My friend's six-year-old asked me to play Will Lego Star Wars my first morning and I agreed. Now, I'm pretty far from addicted to the game (I'm even starting to tire of it), but I can see the appeal. I am bad at it but it's fun playing with a kid who is so into it--even he is a little overly directive at times. (Alicia asked, "isn't he bossy?" I said, "Directive.")
Yesterday, we had decent weather and walked all around Hampton Court Palace. Today, it will be another field trip. On Thursday and Friday, I wandered around central London and very much enjoyed getting a feel for the place again. Fun!
Grateful for: good friends and good weather.
Other unexpected things: Learning to play Wii Lego Star Wars. You may not know this about me, but I'm not much of a video game fan/expert/whatever. I never had a gaming system growing up and except for a brief addiction to Tetris, I've never spent much time playing video games. (As a teenager, I was rather fond of pinball.)
My friend's six-year-old asked me to play Will Lego Star Wars my first morning and I agreed. Now, I'm pretty far from addicted to the game (I'm even starting to tire of it), but I can see the appeal. I am bad at it but it's fun playing with a kid who is so into it--even he is a little overly directive at times. (Alicia asked, "isn't he bossy?" I said, "Directive.")
Yesterday, we had decent weather and walked all around Hampton Court Palace. Today, it will be another field trip. On Thursday and Friday, I wandered around central London and very much enjoyed getting a feel for the place again. Fun!
Grateful for: good friends and good weather.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
When it rains...
...it drizzles.
Last week, I called Diego and left him a message about how well my trip planning is going. I have a renter, I have informal approval for the leave, it's all coming together.
He called me back and left a message about how he had some friends who had the perfect guy for me (smart, Jewish, attractive). He was excited but warned them that I might be going to France. And guess what, now I am going to France! So, no set up for me.
I called him back and left yet another message and said, "No, ,no, NO! You have to introduce me! This is what's supposed to happen! This is what I've been waiting for!" Then, perhaps, I laughed maniacally.
Set up is pending.
Today, I had an entirely too long a lunch with a guy I know from college who was only kind of my friend back then. He's super geeky guy, now a successful professor type, happily married with FOUR children. He's probably a couple of years younger than me. He's just as I remembered him, but taller and a touch heavier (wish I could claim the former!).
We had a good time, somewhat to my surprise, but I rambled far too much about the ins and outs of my job (at his prompting).
I did not tell him about France.
The most amusing moment of the lunch was when he asked (not in these words) if I was interested in being set up with a nice, Jewish, age appropriate DC-dwelling friend of his.
When I realized where he was heading, I looked down, laughed nervously and probably blushed. But I said yes. Of course!
That makes two set up offers with nice Jewish guys in the last week.
Total number of previous DC set-ups with nice Jewish guys: one.
Total life time number of nice Jewish guy boyfriends: zero.
This leaving the country thing may pay off yet!
Grateful for: friendly offers.
Last week, I called Diego and left him a message about how well my trip planning is going. I have a renter, I have informal approval for the leave, it's all coming together.
He called me back and left a message about how he had some friends who had the perfect guy for me (smart, Jewish, attractive). He was excited but warned them that I might be going to France. And guess what, now I am going to France! So, no set up for me.
I called him back and left yet another message and said, "No, ,no, NO! You have to introduce me! This is what's supposed to happen! This is what I've been waiting for!" Then, perhaps, I laughed maniacally.
Set up is pending.
Today, I had an entirely too long a lunch with a guy I know from college who was only kind of my friend back then. He's super geeky guy, now a successful professor type, happily married with FOUR children. He's probably a couple of years younger than me. He's just as I remembered him, but taller and a touch heavier (wish I could claim the former!).
We had a good time, somewhat to my surprise, but I rambled far too much about the ins and outs of my job (at his prompting).
I did not tell him about France.
The most amusing moment of the lunch was when he asked (not in these words) if I was interested in being set up with a nice, Jewish, age appropriate DC-dwelling friend of his.
When I realized where he was heading, I looked down, laughed nervously and probably blushed. But I said yes. Of course!
That makes two set up offers with nice Jewish guys in the last week.
Total number of previous DC set-ups with nice Jewish guys: one.
Total life time number of nice Jewish guy boyfriends: zero.
This leaving the country thing may pay off yet!
Grateful for: friendly offers.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Politeness
Remember back in December when I went up to New Jersey for a wedding and (sort of) caused my uncle to miss his son's (my cousin's) wedding ceremony?
Well, before going to the wedding, I bought the couple a rather expensive gift. My soon-to-be cousin-in-law sent me a nice thank you note almost immediately upon receipt. It's funny to get a thank you for wedding gift before the actual wedding, but it's perfectly proper and thoughtful.
After that, as you know, I went to the wedding. And missed the ceremony. I hung around for picture taking and went to the luncheon. After the luncheon, we went to the newlyweds' house and hung out there for a while. I enjoyed meeting the folks I didn't know and I had a good time.
Perhaps a week after I got back to DC, I got another thank you note from my now official cousin-in-law, thanking me for coming to the wedding and spending time with them.
I have to say, pretty classy, especially considering that they could have been rightly annoyed with me for screwing up the arrival of the father-of-the-groom. I've always liked my cousin's (now) wife and I do now more than ever.
In light of my little dust up with Mandy this week, it's good to keep the highest forms of courtesy in mind. In consultation with Mom and partially at her suggestion, on Thursday I left Mandy a thank you note for the flowers and candy. Honestly, I did not want to say "thank you" to her face. Something about the whole situation was terribly embarrassing and awkward. Mom actually provided the words for the card, which I used with only slight modification.
After she got the card, Mandy put her head in my office and said, "Thanks for the note! I wasn't sure if you'd like that kind of candy...if you like dark chocolate."
I said, "All chocolate is good."
Guess never speaking to her again is out, though I may limit myself to incomplete sentences. Heh. That would be amusing if I could pull it off. ("All chocolate good" or "Chocolate good. Mmmm.")
Last, step one of "Operation Paris" is complete: I purchased a plane ticket for a one-week visit in late April. It's a big step but since taking a sabbatical will involve something like a hundred steps, I don't feel too overwhelmed. If anything, I'm a little numb. But, if nothing else, I'm going to Paris in April! That's a decent vacation, indeed. Step two may be finding a place to stay for that week...which will depend on whether Mom is actually coming with me....
You know what step two will be? Telling the condo-mates they need to pick a new treasurer! That will be awesome even if I don't actually go anywhere.
Happy weekending, everyone. Mine, as usual, will involve a lot of soccer, some knitting and, as an extra special treat, dim sum on Saturday!
Grateful for: politeness and calm.
Well, before going to the wedding, I bought the couple a rather expensive gift. My soon-to-be cousin-in-law sent me a nice thank you note almost immediately upon receipt. It's funny to get a thank you for wedding gift before the actual wedding, but it's perfectly proper and thoughtful.
After that, as you know, I went to the wedding. And missed the ceremony. I hung around for picture taking and went to the luncheon. After the luncheon, we went to the newlyweds' house and hung out there for a while. I enjoyed meeting the folks I didn't know and I had a good time.
Perhaps a week after I got back to DC, I got another thank you note from my now official cousin-in-law, thanking me for coming to the wedding and spending time with them.
I have to say, pretty classy, especially considering that they could have been rightly annoyed with me for screwing up the arrival of the father-of-the-groom. I've always liked my cousin's (now) wife and I do now more than ever.
In light of my little dust up with Mandy this week, it's good to keep the highest forms of courtesy in mind. In consultation with Mom and partially at her suggestion, on Thursday I left Mandy a thank you note for the flowers and candy. Honestly, I did not want to say "thank you" to her face. Something about the whole situation was terribly embarrassing and awkward. Mom actually provided the words for the card, which I used with only slight modification.
After she got the card, Mandy put her head in my office and said, "Thanks for the note! I wasn't sure if you'd like that kind of candy...if you like dark chocolate."
I said, "All chocolate is good."
Guess never speaking to her again is out, though I may limit myself to incomplete sentences. Heh. That would be amusing if I could pull it off. ("All chocolate good" or "Chocolate good. Mmmm.")
Last, step one of "Operation Paris" is complete: I purchased a plane ticket for a one-week visit in late April. It's a big step but since taking a sabbatical will involve something like a hundred steps, I don't feel too overwhelmed. If anything, I'm a little numb. But, if nothing else, I'm going to Paris in April! That's a decent vacation, indeed. Step two may be finding a place to stay for that week...which will depend on whether Mom is actually coming with me....
You know what step two will be? Telling the condo-mates they need to pick a new treasurer! That will be awesome even if I don't actually go anywhere.
Happy weekending, everyone. Mine, as usual, will involve a lot of soccer, some knitting and, as an extra special treat, dim sum on Saturday!
Grateful for: politeness and calm.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Gone
What a difference a day makes!
The rest of my birthday went rather well. I got a couple of calls from Dad (missed all of them, unfortunately). After work, I went to a knitting group and had a beer (we knit at a bar—awesome, right?). I didn't remind them that it was my birthday and it was a stress-free and pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. When I got home, I had a message from my brother in NJ (B1)—well, not just from B1, but from the whole family! They all sang a non-traditional happy birthday song and then each kid said a personal, "Happy Birthday Aunt [Jamy], I love you!" Aww. That might be the cure for everything.
I settled in to watch an episode of "The Wire," eat the cake Nancy brought me and do a little more knitting on the never-ending-scarf for Dad. (Current scarf progress: 62 inches! 8-10 more inches and I'm DONE and it will only be one-two weeks late. Not too shabby.) All in all, it wasn't a bad day. I could have lived without the Mandy drama, but at least the good stuff helped balance it out.
Surprisingly, when I walked into my office this morning, a box of Trader Joe's Non-Pareil's was sitting on my chair and a vase of tulips was on my desk. A tiny post-it on the candy let me know they were from Mandy, "Happy Birthday [Jamy]! May you have a wonderful year ahead!" Huh.
This is the deal with Mandy: she's thoughtless and selfish and the result can be slights and exclusions. However, I never thought she was acting out of overt hatred or maliciousness. That's ascribing way too much intent to her narrow way of functioning in the world. If I knew that yesterday, then why did I have such a strong reaction? Because it's a pattern of behavior over several years and it was too damn much to swallow easily on my birthday. Fortunately, I'm not walking around actively hating her all the time. What a drag that would be!
In the past, I've complained to Diego about Mandy (he used to work here and knows the drill). He always says, "Don't get so upset. You're better off not having to go to her things anyway." Of course, he's right but it still rankled. I felt the sting of the insult.
However, in the clear light of day, I'm not angry anymore. I'm a little amused at the lengths Mandy's gone to "redeem" herself and I seriously wonder if she knows why I was upset. But I do not feel the need at all (amusingly, a need I felt quite keenly yesterday) to give her a piece of my mind or set her straight. I'm sure it would do her no good and it wouldn't make me feel better.
What I haven't done yet, and desperately need to, is thank her for the chocolate and flowers. She made an effort and I need to acknowledge it. After that, I will discharge myself of all but the most basic need to be civil to her. I'll also be grateful that I don't have to deal with too many people like her.
Grateful for: a new day.
The rest of my birthday went rather well. I got a couple of calls from Dad (missed all of them, unfortunately). After work, I went to a knitting group and had a beer (we knit at a bar—awesome, right?). I didn't remind them that it was my birthday and it was a stress-free and pleasant way to spend a couple of hours. When I got home, I had a message from my brother in NJ (B1)—well, not just from B1, but from the whole family! They all sang a non-traditional happy birthday song and then each kid said a personal, "Happy Birthday Aunt [Jamy], I love you!" Aww. That might be the cure for everything.
I settled in to watch an episode of "The Wire," eat the cake Nancy brought me and do a little more knitting on the never-ending-scarf for Dad. (Current scarf progress: 62 inches! 8-10 more inches and I'm DONE and it will only be one-two weeks late. Not too shabby.) All in all, it wasn't a bad day. I could have lived without the Mandy drama, but at least the good stuff helped balance it out.
Surprisingly, when I walked into my office this morning, a box of Trader Joe's Non-Pareil's was sitting on my chair and a vase of tulips was on my desk. A tiny post-it on the candy let me know they were from Mandy, "Happy Birthday [Jamy]! May you have a wonderful year ahead!" Huh.
This is the deal with Mandy: she's thoughtless and selfish and the result can be slights and exclusions. However, I never thought she was acting out of overt hatred or maliciousness. That's ascribing way too much intent to her narrow way of functioning in the world. If I knew that yesterday, then why did I have such a strong reaction? Because it's a pattern of behavior over several years and it was too damn much to swallow easily on my birthday. Fortunately, I'm not walking around actively hating her all the time. What a drag that would be!
In the past, I've complained to Diego about Mandy (he used to work here and knows the drill). He always says, "Don't get so upset. You're better off not having to go to her things anyway." Of course, he's right but it still rankled. I felt the sting of the insult.
However, in the clear light of day, I'm not angry anymore. I'm a little amused at the lengths Mandy's gone to "redeem" herself and I seriously wonder if she knows why I was upset. But I do not feel the need at all (amusingly, a need I felt quite keenly yesterday) to give her a piece of my mind or set her straight. I'm sure it would do her no good and it wouldn't make me feel better.
What I haven't done yet, and desperately need to, is thank her for the chocolate and flowers. She made an effort and I need to acknowledge it. After that, I will discharge myself of all but the most basic need to be civil to her. I'll also be grateful that I don't have to deal with too many people like her.
Grateful for: a new day.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Pathos
I've been trying to stifle the urge to write a whiny post all day. You know, I was often accused of being whiny and overly sensitive as a kid (mostly in the under-10 years). I thought I'd outgrown that stuff. Oh well.
Sometimes I forget how sensitive I am. I'm so busy putting up a strong front and trying to get people not to worry about me—and leave me alone!—that I'm surprised when a seemingly meaningless slight infuriates me and makes me want to cry.
As you may have inferred from yesterday's post, today is my birthday (thank you in advance). I didn't plan anything because I had a little celebration on Saturday. I've gotten some presents and many "happy birthday" wishes. I am feeling a little old this year and stressed because of all my work issues so I can't say it's the happiest birthday ever but it's not terrible. I'm fine.
Then, this morning, I'm sitting at my desk and it become clear that some folks have plans to go somewhere together. I ask my officemate, "Where are you going?"
He said, "We're going to [X] museum—they're having some free food. You were on the email, weren't you?"
"No," I said, "I didn't get that email."
"Oh. Well, we're going at 11. You should come."
I was immediately angry—not at him, but at the woman who organized the outing. Mandy. I know I've mentioned Mandy before, though I can't remember what name I used. She has a habit of organizing happy hours and parties and not inviting me. Nina (my work friend) is usually invited and has asked if I'm attending these events on occasion, assuming that I'm invited too. It has always hurt my feelings that I'm not included, even though I don't like Mandy. (I always give her the courtesy invite to events to which I ask work-friends.) Still, as long as I don't know about these events (I asked Nina not to mention them to me and she's been good about respecting that boundary), I'm not bothered. Out of sight, out of mind.
But today was a different story. It's my goddamn birthday and Mandy organizes an outing for people in my division, including my officemate, and doesn't bother to invite me? Out of pure politeness, I invited her to my birthday get-together on Saturday. She came, thanked me, and enjoyed herself. She knows that my birthday is this week—perhaps she didn't know it was today—still, still, it was just too much.
After I figured out what was happening, I stuck my head in her office and said, "So you're going to the [X] museum? I didn't get the email."
She said, "Oh. Sorry."
That's it. Off they went. I was standing next to TR and as soon as they left, I practically shouted at him, "I can't believe it! She didn't even invite me and it's MY BIRTHDAY. That's fucked up! I'm so done with her. I've had it!"
He said, "I know. I'm sorry. Let me take you to lunch."
I stomped into my office, still muttering about the rudeness of it all, hoping to calm down. I sent an email to Nancy and my mom. Both were sympathetic and agreed that it was a particularly insensitive thing to do on my birthday.
Later, TR took me and the new office temp to lunch. I still felt lousy but it was a nice gesture.
Honestly, I don't need people to make a fuss over my birthday. If you forget, it won't hurt my feelings. But if you are needlessly cruel and insensitive, then it will hurt my feelings, tremendously in fact.
After they all got back, Danielle (not the offending party!) came into my office to apologize. It's her birthday on Thursday and Mandy is organizing a lunch for her. Danielle thought I hadn't been invited to that. I was invited. I explained to Danielle why I was upset. I felt even worse because, while Danielle and I aren't best buddies, she's unfailing polite and never, ever unkind.
As it turns out, Danielle has similar issues with Mandy—which must really suck because they share an office. In fact, Danielle demanded a telework day from our old boss for the sole purpose of getting time away from Mandy. Geez. At least it's not just me.
Then I sat around wondering how long it would be before Mandy came to apologize.
(In case you're wondering, I hadn't said anything to Mandy or Danielle, so how did they know I was upset? Probably my tone of voice and body language before they left. I'm very easy to read.)
I hoped Mandy wouldn't apologize because I was in no mood to forgive her. My mother had this to say, "You don't need to pretend to forgive her. If she apologizes, you can say you hear her and thank her—if she apologizes for her actions rather than the way you feel." Good point, Mom!
Right before she left for the day, Mandy comes up to me and says, "I'm so sorry. I meant to get you flowers but I didn't have time. I didn't mean anything by it. Happy Birthday."
I said, "Ok. Thanks." And smiled grimly.
I wonder, does she know what she apologized for? Ideally, I'd never speak to her again but it's hard for me to be that rude. At the least, I'm going to keep our interactions to a minimum from now on. No more courtesy invites, either.
I sure wish this didn't bother me so much. I feel overwhelmed and still a little teary. Dammit.
Ok, time to put on a happy-birthday-face. Smile!
Grateful for: perspective.
Sometimes I forget how sensitive I am. I'm so busy putting up a strong front and trying to get people not to worry about me—and leave me alone!—that I'm surprised when a seemingly meaningless slight infuriates me and makes me want to cry.
As you may have inferred from yesterday's post, today is my birthday (thank you in advance). I didn't plan anything because I had a little celebration on Saturday. I've gotten some presents and many "happy birthday" wishes. I am feeling a little old this year and stressed because of all my work issues so I can't say it's the happiest birthday ever but it's not terrible. I'm fine.
Then, this morning, I'm sitting at my desk and it become clear that some folks have plans to go somewhere together. I ask my officemate, "Where are you going?"
He said, "We're going to [X] museum—they're having some free food. You were on the email, weren't you?"
"No," I said, "I didn't get that email."
"Oh. Well, we're going at 11. You should come."
I was immediately angry—not at him, but at the woman who organized the outing. Mandy. I know I've mentioned Mandy before, though I can't remember what name I used. She has a habit of organizing happy hours and parties and not inviting me. Nina (my work friend) is usually invited and has asked if I'm attending these events on occasion, assuming that I'm invited too. It has always hurt my feelings that I'm not included, even though I don't like Mandy. (I always give her the courtesy invite to events to which I ask work-friends.) Still, as long as I don't know about these events (I asked Nina not to mention them to me and she's been good about respecting that boundary), I'm not bothered. Out of sight, out of mind.
But today was a different story. It's my goddamn birthday and Mandy organizes an outing for people in my division, including my officemate, and doesn't bother to invite me? Out of pure politeness, I invited her to my birthday get-together on Saturday. She came, thanked me, and enjoyed herself. She knows that my birthday is this week—perhaps she didn't know it was today—still, still, it was just too much.
After I figured out what was happening, I stuck my head in her office and said, "So you're going to the [X] museum? I didn't get the email."
She said, "Oh. Sorry."
That's it. Off they went. I was standing next to TR and as soon as they left, I practically shouted at him, "I can't believe it! She didn't even invite me and it's MY BIRTHDAY. That's fucked up! I'm so done with her. I've had it!"
He said, "I know. I'm sorry. Let me take you to lunch."
I stomped into my office, still muttering about the rudeness of it all, hoping to calm down. I sent an email to Nancy and my mom. Both were sympathetic and agreed that it was a particularly insensitive thing to do on my birthday.
Later, TR took me and the new office temp to lunch. I still felt lousy but it was a nice gesture.
Honestly, I don't need people to make a fuss over my birthday. If you forget, it won't hurt my feelings. But if you are needlessly cruel and insensitive, then it will hurt my feelings, tremendously in fact.
After they all got back, Danielle (not the offending party!) came into my office to apologize. It's her birthday on Thursday and Mandy is organizing a lunch for her. Danielle thought I hadn't been invited to that. I was invited. I explained to Danielle why I was upset. I felt even worse because, while Danielle and I aren't best buddies, she's unfailing polite and never, ever unkind.
As it turns out, Danielle has similar issues with Mandy—which must really suck because they share an office. In fact, Danielle demanded a telework day from our old boss for the sole purpose of getting time away from Mandy. Geez. At least it's not just me.
Then I sat around wondering how long it would be before Mandy came to apologize.
(In case you're wondering, I hadn't said anything to Mandy or Danielle, so how did they know I was upset? Probably my tone of voice and body language before they left. I'm very easy to read.)
I hoped Mandy wouldn't apologize because I was in no mood to forgive her. My mother had this to say, "You don't need to pretend to forgive her. If she apologizes, you can say you hear her and thank her—if she apologizes for her actions rather than the way you feel." Good point, Mom!
Right before she left for the day, Mandy comes up to me and says, "I'm so sorry. I meant to get you flowers but I didn't have time. I didn't mean anything by it. Happy Birthday."
I said, "Ok. Thanks." And smiled grimly.
I wonder, does she know what she apologized for? Ideally, I'd never speak to her again but it's hard for me to be that rude. At the least, I'm going to keep our interactions to a minimum from now on. No more courtesy invites, either.
I sure wish this didn't bother me so much. I feel overwhelmed and still a little teary. Dammit.
Ok, time to put on a happy-birthday-face. Smile!
Grateful for: perspective.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Where did it go?
Last week, I was still angry at TR and feeling the full force of my frustration. At home, I scratched Miss Tabitha's head and said, "We're going to Paris."
I called my mother, told her the plan and invited her to go to Paris with me for a week in April to reconnoiter and choose a neighborhood and maybe find an apartment. (Mom speaks French and should be an asset if she doesn't fold under the pressure.)
On Saturday night, I was downright (upright?) buoyant as I drove from soccer practice to home to rush-rush prepare to meet a few friends for a birthday celebration (mine: actual birthday is on Tuesday).
I was still feeling good and enthused (and exhausted) on Sunday, before and after my soccer game.
This morning, I woke feeling nothing but exhausted. I read all your comments. Blog readers are 100% in agreement that I should to go Paris.
But the bloom is off the rose. I'm not saying I don't want to go but at this precise moment, I'm not feeling it.
I come to work and see TR for the first time in a week. I tell him a new idea (new to him!) I have for a project and he's almost startled. Is it that hard to believe that I have ideas? No, of course not. He dumps/gives me a bunch of work and I laze around all day and nibble at it. I want to like my job. I want to be good at this work. I fear—nay—I'm sure it will never happen. Well, I like to think I'm good and I know what I'm doing, but the excitement will never be there. Never was there.
Yet it's so damn comfortable. My house is so cozy. How will I decide which things to trash and which to save? How will I convince someone to take over treasurer duties at the condo? Should I try and refinance the mortgage now? All this stuff to decide and plan. And I can do it. As soon as I make the first decision (to go or not to go), the rest will fall in line and won't be that difficult. I'm a person of action after I make the first decision. Pretty much everything I've every decided to do, I've done. When I set the plan, I follow through.
I walked home with TR today and he said, "I took what you said to heart." I hemmed and hawed. I wanted to tell him but I couldn't, I didn't. I wanted to get his opinion, as a friend, but I can't. It's the kind of thing I would normally talk to TR about...but I can't. It's not like a regular job--ok, that's not true--but it feels more, I feel more connected to some of the people at this work place than I ever have. TR is, despite my frustration with him, one of my best friends. And even though I was angry at him, he does value me. How could he not? And I'm going to abandon him? Oy. The guilt! I know that's not how this decision gets made. That staying is not good for me. But this sure isn't easy. Sigh.
Grateful for: friendship.
I called my mother, told her the plan and invited her to go to Paris with me for a week in April to reconnoiter and choose a neighborhood and maybe find an apartment. (Mom speaks French and should be an asset if she doesn't fold under the pressure.)
On Saturday night, I was downright (upright?) buoyant as I drove from soccer practice to home to rush-rush prepare to meet a few friends for a birthday celebration (mine: actual birthday is on Tuesday).
I was still feeling good and enthused (and exhausted) on Sunday, before and after my soccer game.
This morning, I woke feeling nothing but exhausted. I read all your comments. Blog readers are 100% in agreement that I should to go Paris.
But the bloom is off the rose. I'm not saying I don't want to go but at this precise moment, I'm not feeling it.
I come to work and see TR for the first time in a week. I tell him a new idea (new to him!) I have for a project and he's almost startled. Is it that hard to believe that I have ideas? No, of course not. He dumps/gives me a bunch of work and I laze around all day and nibble at it. I want to like my job. I want to be good at this work. I fear—nay—I'm sure it will never happen. Well, I like to think I'm good and I know what I'm doing, but the excitement will never be there. Never was there.
Yet it's so damn comfortable. My house is so cozy. How will I decide which things to trash and which to save? How will I convince someone to take over treasurer duties at the condo? Should I try and refinance the mortgage now? All this stuff to decide and plan. And I can do it. As soon as I make the first decision (to go or not to go), the rest will fall in line and won't be that difficult. I'm a person of action after I make the first decision. Pretty much everything I've every decided to do, I've done. When I set the plan, I follow through.
I walked home with TR today and he said, "I took what you said to heart." I hemmed and hawed. I wanted to tell him but I couldn't, I didn't. I wanted to get his opinion, as a friend, but I can't. It's the kind of thing I would normally talk to TR about...but I can't. It's not like a regular job--ok, that's not true--but it feels more, I feel more connected to some of the people at this work place than I ever have. TR is, despite my frustration with him, one of my best friends. And even though I was angry at him, he does value me. How could he not? And I'm going to abandon him? Oy. The guilt! I know that's not how this decision gets made. That staying is not good for me. But this sure isn't easy. Sigh.
Grateful for: friendship.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Lazy?
This weekend, I had another big list of chores…like every weekend! I should have put cleaning the kitchen and bathroom floors and vacuuming the house on the list but they will have to wait until next week. Instead it was finishing laundry, cleaning the other parts of the kitchen, and baking cookies.
Also on my list of to-dos was soccer practice on Saturday morning and indoor soccer on Sunday morning.
Saturday morning rolled around and I got up in plenty of time to make it to practice. But I just didn’t want to go. So I didn’t. I’ve been to one practice so far and they ran me around so much I was a wreck for the rest of the day. I need to practice, I have so much to learn about this game—but an hour of learning how to kick the ball and chasing down everyone else’s passes, either because of their poor aim or my poor fielding (or whatever you call it in soccer) followed by an hour of scrimmage? I just wasn’t feeling it.
Instead, I did my normal hibernating thing. I’ve said this before but I worry a little about how much time I spend alone in my house. I’d like to have a few more friends (that’s not news either) and I’m damn picky so it’s hard for me to make new friends. I can tell you one thing for sure: I’m not going to make any new friends by staying in the house all day. Still and all, I really enjoyed my day at home. I knit like a fiend, baked cookies, cleaned the back room, scanned (and edited) a million (20) photos, and watched a movie. I hardly felt guilty at all about missing soccer practice. It was a good, productive day and I liked being alone. Hey, maybe I’m meant to be a hermit. I should accept it.
Saturday evening, I went to TR’s party (a whole two blocks away from my house!). Everyone there was all coupled up but I enjoyed talking to some work folks and TR’s brothers, only one of whom I’d met before. The brother who’d I’d met before is TR’s fraternal twin (KR!) and, well, there was a moment years ago when I had a little crush on him. He lives on the west coast, so what can you do? I’d forgotten about it. On Saturday, he seemed very pleased to see me and I remembered the crush and I thought, “Ah, so it was mutual.” He’s a great guy and, while it might be bizarre to date TR’s brother, it would have been…comforting. However, KR has a girlfriend (I know from TR), he’s happy, and he lives far away. Still, it was good to have the feeling that he liked me too.
The party was fun, the food was excellent, and I drank just enough but not too much. I was home by 11pm. Woo hoo!
Sunday, the soccer game was a lot of fun, even though (or because?) we only had four players, which is the minimum. At the last minute, we recruited a goalie from one of the teams leaving the court, so we had five and could sub one. (The goalie played the whole game and saved our bacon over and over.) It was a much better work-out with just the five of us. Since I played a lot more, I actually improved slightly and got very tired. I’m pretty decent on defense, but offensively, well, best not to talk about that too much.
I went to my favorite coffee shop after the game where I meant to do some writing. Instead, I just fiddled on the computer and read some news. Blah. C-money sent me a text and we arranged to go to the movies later in the afternoon. I scooted home so I’d have time to shower. The movie (In Bruges) was so-so, but it was good to catch up with C-money. We had a bite to eat and I was home semi-early.
I would now like to introduce a NEW FEATURE to this blog. Recently, these “make my day” awards have been going around and I was named twice (thanks Diane and Dan-E!). I’m always touched and flattered when people tag me or honor me in these ways. However, I hate having to figure out whom to tag next—what if I forget someone? What if no one responds?
I’ve decided that every day I’ll put a link to one of my daily reads and tell you why I like it. I’ll only include active blogs (posts in the last month) and I’ll go in alphabetical order (more or less). Each blog will get its own post but may not be the only thing I post that day. I reserve the right to change any of these conditions. Oh, and it will go on until either I get sick of it or I finish the whole list. It could easily last for six months.
I also have an idea about doing a series on every job I’ve ever held. What do you think about that?
Grateful for: lots to say.
Also on my list of to-dos was soccer practice on Saturday morning and indoor soccer on Sunday morning.
Saturday morning rolled around and I got up in plenty of time to make it to practice. But I just didn’t want to go. So I didn’t. I’ve been to one practice so far and they ran me around so much I was a wreck for the rest of the day. I need to practice, I have so much to learn about this game—but an hour of learning how to kick the ball and chasing down everyone else’s passes, either because of their poor aim or my poor fielding (or whatever you call it in soccer) followed by an hour of scrimmage? I just wasn’t feeling it.
Instead, I did my normal hibernating thing. I’ve said this before but I worry a little about how much time I spend alone in my house. I’d like to have a few more friends (that’s not news either) and I’m damn picky so it’s hard for me to make new friends. I can tell you one thing for sure: I’m not going to make any new friends by staying in the house all day. Still and all, I really enjoyed my day at home. I knit like a fiend, baked cookies, cleaned the back room, scanned (and edited) a million (20) photos, and watched a movie. I hardly felt guilty at all about missing soccer practice. It was a good, productive day and I liked being alone. Hey, maybe I’m meant to be a hermit. I should accept it.
Saturday evening, I went to TR’s party (a whole two blocks away from my house!). Everyone there was all coupled up but I enjoyed talking to some work folks and TR’s brothers, only one of whom I’d met before. The brother who’d I’d met before is TR’s fraternal twin (KR!) and, well, there was a moment years ago when I had a little crush on him. He lives on the west coast, so what can you do? I’d forgotten about it. On Saturday, he seemed very pleased to see me and I remembered the crush and I thought, “Ah, so it was mutual.” He’s a great guy and, while it might be bizarre to date TR’s brother, it would have been…comforting. However, KR has a girlfriend (I know from TR), he’s happy, and he lives far away. Still, it was good to have the feeling that he liked me too.
The party was fun, the food was excellent, and I drank just enough but not too much. I was home by 11pm. Woo hoo!
Sunday, the soccer game was a lot of fun, even though (or because?) we only had four players, which is the minimum. At the last minute, we recruited a goalie from one of the teams leaving the court, so we had five and could sub one. (The goalie played the whole game and saved our bacon over and over.) It was a much better work-out with just the five of us. Since I played a lot more, I actually improved slightly and got very tired. I’m pretty decent on defense, but offensively, well, best not to talk about that too much.
I went to my favorite coffee shop after the game where I meant to do some writing. Instead, I just fiddled on the computer and read some news. Blah. C-money sent me a text and we arranged to go to the movies later in the afternoon. I scooted home so I’d have time to shower. The movie (In Bruges) was so-so, but it was good to catch up with C-money. We had a bite to eat and I was home semi-early.
I would now like to introduce a NEW FEATURE to this blog. Recently, these “make my day” awards have been going around and I was named twice (thanks Diane and Dan-E!). I’m always touched and flattered when people tag me or honor me in these ways. However, I hate having to figure out whom to tag next—what if I forget someone? What if no one responds?
I’ve decided that every day I’ll put a link to one of my daily reads and tell you why I like it. I’ll only include active blogs (posts in the last month) and I’ll go in alphabetical order (more or less). Each blog will get its own post but may not be the only thing I post that day. I reserve the right to change any of these conditions. Oh, and it will go on until either I get sick of it or I finish the whole list. It could easily last for six months.
I also have an idea about doing a series on every job I’ve ever held. What do you think about that?
Grateful for: lots to say.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Snippets
What to write, what to write…I think I’m getting blog-writing block. Just having a hard time letting the words flow. Lord knows I have enough to say. Yeesh.
I’m going to take it in snippets because that’s how I roll.
1. Way too much work to do at work. Dare I say it? I’ve been working all day. Just got a new project handed to me. That’s good even though the project is annoying. It will keep me busy and productive. Your tax dollars will be better spent.
2. Friday, I went out for drinks/dinner for work-friend, Nina’s, birthday. Fun, friendly group. I enjoyed myself. Sailor was there—it occurred to me that we met just about a year ago at Nina’s last birthday. Hrm. Anyway, he showed up late and I’d already had one stiff drink. One person was sitting between us and Sailor leaned behind that guy and said, “Hey, Jamy, are you hungry? Want to split something?” Oh, how my heart thrilled at the implied intimacy of those words! However, I was full of appetizers and hard alcohol. My response was a little slow, but still eager, “Sure! What do you want?” (We never did get any food.)
He said, “Are you ok? You seem tired.”
I said, quietly, “Well, actually, I’m a little drunk.”
You should have seen Sailor’s face light up at my admission. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Just one. But I’m a lightweight. It really pays off.”
He just laughed. Over the course of the evening he seemed to delight informing others, “Did you know that Jamy is drunk!”
Wow! How could that be?!?!
I asked him why he seemed so surprised and he said he’d just never seen me drunk. I don’t think that’s true but maybe those other times the alcohol hadn’t gone to my head quite as quickly. Though, I wasn’t acting particularly silly on Friday. Or was I?
I haven’t gotten that reaction to my mild intoxication since college maybe, when all my friends (Mike in particular) were at pains to ply me with liquor and watch me get silly. Cause I was so damn serious!
And now? Am I still that serious? Well, generally, yes, I suppose and probably at work…but around Sailor I always feel like a blathering idiot. Talking too much, boring him and feeling generally ridiculous. But he sees me as—what? So self-contained and put together that the loosening effect of alcohol is remarkable?
Oh sigh. How un-far I’ve come.
3. Saturday I skipped soccer practice and hung out with Pele for most of the day. Lots of talking! That was good. I also built a low-tech lightbox to take pictures of yarn and finished projects. It’s pretty cool. I’ll get something posted (or linked to) eventually. And I cooked something for dinner. I let myself take a relaxing day at home and it was perfect.
4. Sunday, I played indoor soccer in the morning. Fun even though we lost. Can’t win ‘em all! Did a quick shop then home. Made some guacamole to bring to Super Bowl watching. On my way to Brad’s (Pele’s boyfriend) house, I stopped by the Arlington Recycling Center. Can I tell you how much I love this place? Goodbye cardboard boxes and lots of old telephone books!
5. The Super Bowl was awesome! I didn’t expect to enjoy the game as much as I did. Even though I was rooting for the Giants, I was stunned that they won. Might be one of the first Super Bowls I’ve watched that I actually remember.
6. So much for snippets.
Grateful for: friends, weekends and good games.
I’m going to take it in snippets because that’s how I roll.
1. Way too much work to do at work. Dare I say it? I’ve been working all day. Just got a new project handed to me. That’s good even though the project is annoying. It will keep me busy and productive. Your tax dollars will be better spent.
2. Friday, I went out for drinks/dinner for work-friend, Nina’s, birthday. Fun, friendly group. I enjoyed myself. Sailor was there—it occurred to me that we met just about a year ago at Nina’s last birthday. Hrm. Anyway, he showed up late and I’d already had one stiff drink. One person was sitting between us and Sailor leaned behind that guy and said, “Hey, Jamy, are you hungry? Want to split something?” Oh, how my heart thrilled at the implied intimacy of those words! However, I was full of appetizers and hard alcohol. My response was a little slow, but still eager, “Sure! What do you want?” (We never did get any food.)
He said, “Are you ok? You seem tired.”
I said, quietly, “Well, actually, I’m a little drunk.”
You should have seen Sailor’s face light up at my admission. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Just one. But I’m a lightweight. It really pays off.”
He just laughed. Over the course of the evening he seemed to delight informing others, “Did you know that Jamy is drunk!”
Wow! How could that be?!?!
I asked him why he seemed so surprised and he said he’d just never seen me drunk. I don’t think that’s true but maybe those other times the alcohol hadn’t gone to my head quite as quickly. Though, I wasn’t acting particularly silly on Friday. Or was I?
I haven’t gotten that reaction to my mild intoxication since college maybe, when all my friends (Mike in particular) were at pains to ply me with liquor and watch me get silly. Cause I was so damn serious!
And now? Am I still that serious? Well, generally, yes, I suppose and probably at work…but around Sailor I always feel like a blathering idiot. Talking too much, boring him and feeling generally ridiculous. But he sees me as—what? So self-contained and put together that the loosening effect of alcohol is remarkable?
Oh sigh. How un-far I’ve come.
3. Saturday I skipped soccer practice and hung out with Pele for most of the day. Lots of talking! That was good. I also built a low-tech lightbox to take pictures of yarn and finished projects. It’s pretty cool. I’ll get something posted (or linked to) eventually. And I cooked something for dinner. I let myself take a relaxing day at home and it was perfect.
4. Sunday, I played indoor soccer in the morning. Fun even though we lost. Can’t win ‘em all! Did a quick shop then home. Made some guacamole to bring to Super Bowl watching. On my way to Brad’s (Pele’s boyfriend) house, I stopped by the Arlington Recycling Center. Can I tell you how much I love this place? Goodbye cardboard boxes and lots of old telephone books!
5. The Super Bowl was awesome! I didn’t expect to enjoy the game as much as I did. Even though I was rooting for the Giants, I was stunned that they won. Might be one of the first Super Bowls I’ve watched that I actually remember.
6. So much for snippets.
Grateful for: friends, weekends and good games.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
I'm ready
I'm watching football. I almost reneged and switched over to Masterpiece Theater. The whole airing of the complete works of Jane Austen is super tempting. The game is exciting…but it's a lot of manly--ugh-ugh-violence and the thought of watching a comedy of 19th century manners seems…relaxing. But, I was chastised and encouraged to continue with the watching of the football, so I will. It's quite an exciting game--no question about that.
Doesn't mean I can't write and watch, though!
I'm pretty pleased with this week and weekend. Friday, I walked home (good for me!), picked up some take-out for dinner and had an early night. Saturday morning, I was supposed to go to soccer practice with my outdoor team. I was kind of dreading it, but I got up early enough to make it, but I checked my email and it was cancelled. Several of us expressed the sentiment that if it were below freezing, we would skip. Color me relieved.
Instead of just lazing, though, I made myself some nice breakfast, vacuumed and generally got the house in order. My plan was to catch a couple of movies at the National Gallery and meet my friend, Belinda, for drinks in the evening. To make up (sorta) for no soccer practice, I did some yoga at home and walked to and from the museum.
The first movie, A Kind of Loving, was great. It starred Alan Bates, one of my favorite actors and he was wonderful, as usual. The second, This Sporting Life, was more interesting than good--but it wasn't bad either. Though, I must say, sitting for that long is uncomfortable. I got up between the two features, but walking home was a good thing.
Again, I got take out for dinner (what's up with that?), but I saved half and had it for dinner tonight. So, whatever. Plus I cooked some Brussels sprouts. Tiny, delicious cabbages.
After the movie and my dinner, Belinda and I went for drinks on H ST. It's very cool to be able to stick (more or less) in the neighborhood for a night out. We sat, drank and talked for a few hours. I was unaccountably tired, but it was a good time. After, I dragged B to a party/fundraiser at an art gallery near my house. We were, um, a bit out of place. As I said, "My glasses are too small and my coat isn't ugly enough. But my scarf is long enough." The place was full of artsy, fashionable, alternative folks. The music was loud and house. A couple of women carved out a small space to dance, the most noticeable of whom had "diva" printed across her chest on an otherwise nondescript, though nicely fitted, t-shirt.
We didn't talk to anyone but one guy, with huge glassless eyeglasses, walked by and said, "Hi! How are you! Hello!" to us--and everyone else. Well, hell. I started saying, "Hi! How are you!" under my breath (but loud enough for B to hear) to everyone who walked by. We were doomed not to break into the scene, but it was interesting to observe. I have to say, it was truly diverse. A similar scene in Seattle would be lily white, not so in DC. So, that's one thing the crazy, avant-garde elitist types in DC have going for themselves, which is pretty damn good, actually.
A half an hour of that was enough and Belinda and I parted ways, she back to VA and me to home and bed…eventually. I was a little buzzed from the drinking so it took me a while to settle into sleep.
This morning, I got up in plenty of time to make it to my (indoor) soccer game. We were all full of subs, including my friend, Katie (aka Dr J). We lost the game but I had fun. I'm getting a tiny bit better with each game but I'm not quite mediocre yet. Someday.
I took Katie home after the game and then stopped by my favorite coffee shop for a bite to eat. It's a bit loud but the food is good, the coffee is perfect and I can always find a place to sit.
When I got home, it was more cleaning (the job that never ends!) and loads of football watching. I think I might have overloaded on the football, but I'm glad I was persuaded to watch the end of the Giants-Packers game--what a doozy! I'm ready for the superbowl!
The best thing about this weekend, though, is that it's not over! The chores (laundry, bathroom cleaning) that didn't get done today will get done tomorrow. I'll also get to hang out, briefly, with my eldest brother and his family who are swinging through on their way back to NJ. Time enough for everything. I like that.
Grateful for: friends and football.
Doesn't mean I can't write and watch, though!
I'm pretty pleased with this week and weekend. Friday, I walked home (good for me!), picked up some take-out for dinner and had an early night. Saturday morning, I was supposed to go to soccer practice with my outdoor team. I was kind of dreading it, but I got up early enough to make it, but I checked my email and it was cancelled. Several of us expressed the sentiment that if it were below freezing, we would skip. Color me relieved.
Instead of just lazing, though, I made myself some nice breakfast, vacuumed and generally got the house in order. My plan was to catch a couple of movies at the National Gallery and meet my friend, Belinda, for drinks in the evening. To make up (sorta) for no soccer practice, I did some yoga at home and walked to and from the museum.
The first movie, A Kind of Loving, was great. It starred Alan Bates, one of my favorite actors and he was wonderful, as usual. The second, This Sporting Life, was more interesting than good--but it wasn't bad either. Though, I must say, sitting for that long is uncomfortable. I got up between the two features, but walking home was a good thing.
Again, I got take out for dinner (what's up with that?), but I saved half and had it for dinner tonight. So, whatever. Plus I cooked some Brussels sprouts. Tiny, delicious cabbages.
After the movie and my dinner, Belinda and I went for drinks on H ST. It's very cool to be able to stick (more or less) in the neighborhood for a night out. We sat, drank and talked for a few hours. I was unaccountably tired, but it was a good time. After, I dragged B to a party/fundraiser at an art gallery near my house. We were, um, a bit out of place. As I said, "My glasses are too small and my coat isn't ugly enough. But my scarf is long enough." The place was full of artsy, fashionable, alternative folks. The music was loud and house. A couple of women carved out a small space to dance, the most noticeable of whom had "diva" printed across her chest on an otherwise nondescript, though nicely fitted, t-shirt.
We didn't talk to anyone but one guy, with huge glassless eyeglasses, walked by and said, "Hi! How are you! Hello!" to us--and everyone else. Well, hell. I started saying, "Hi! How are you!" under my breath (but loud enough for B to hear) to everyone who walked by. We were doomed not to break into the scene, but it was interesting to observe. I have to say, it was truly diverse. A similar scene in Seattle would be lily white, not so in DC. So, that's one thing the crazy, avant-garde elitist types in DC have going for themselves, which is pretty damn good, actually.
A half an hour of that was enough and Belinda and I parted ways, she back to VA and me to home and bed…eventually. I was a little buzzed from the drinking so it took me a while to settle into sleep.
This morning, I got up in plenty of time to make it to my (indoor) soccer game. We were all full of subs, including my friend, Katie (aka Dr J). We lost the game but I had fun. I'm getting a tiny bit better with each game but I'm not quite mediocre yet. Someday.
I took Katie home after the game and then stopped by my favorite coffee shop for a bite to eat. It's a bit loud but the food is good, the coffee is perfect and I can always find a place to sit.
When I got home, it was more cleaning (the job that never ends!) and loads of football watching. I think I might have overloaded on the football, but I'm glad I was persuaded to watch the end of the Giants-Packers game--what a doozy! I'm ready for the superbowl!
The best thing about this weekend, though, is that it's not over! The chores (laundry, bathroom cleaning) that didn't get done today will get done tomorrow. I'll also get to hang out, briefly, with my eldest brother and his family who are swinging through on their way back to NJ. Time enough for everything. I like that.
Grateful for: friends and football.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Fuzzy
Is it wrong to show pictures of your friend's baby on the internet?
I hope not.
The other day, my Dutch friend, Piet, sent me that pic of his older child. A while ago, he sent me a pic of his new baby wearing the hat I made for him. This time, his daughter is wearing the hat I made for her. The best part of the message is that Piet said she wouldn't take the hat off when they got inside. Can you blame her?
As part of my exchange with Piet, I asked if he remembered another email conversation we had a long time ago. I'd sent him an article related to it. In return, he sent me a copy of our original email from 1997. Damn. So, I'm not the only one who saves everything. Good to know.
On Wednesday, I went to the blogger meetup. I've been feeling "off" and a tad anti-social but I decided to go anyway. I also decided not to push it--not to make too much of an effort. Hmm…that sounds bad. But I didn't want to trip all over myself not saying the right thing or annoying folks, so I mostly kept quiet, asked a few questions, answered a few questions and tried to smile.
Joe took this awesome pic of my extra-long cuffs:
He couldn't look away but I'd never given them any thought. I'm more fascinated by the stripedy nature of the shirt. I do love my black and white stripes.
What else? Tonight, I was walking home from work, making a call on my cell phone and a lady in a car starts talking to me. I'm in the middle of leaving a freakin' message lady! It's ok, I gave her directions anyway. What can you do?
What I seem not to be able to do is post regularly. I don't know. Is it time for a hiatus? Ugh. As soon as I say I'm taking a break, I'll start posting like crazy.
This has been a good week at work but my dedication waned as the weekend approached. I had a big deadline, I met it, but now all the other deadlines are "soft." Even so, I got a few small projects off my plate and I even volunteered for a semi-academic task that is suspiciously like editing (hey, I'm good at it by now, at least) but a good deal more intellectually stimulating.
I will keep trying to work at work. But an average blog takes about an hour to write. I might be able to work that in too.
I guess the upshot is that I'll keep posting when I feel like it, which will be more than once a week but considerably less than daily. I hope you'll stick around. I'm pretty sure that if I ever date again, I will write about it and post a lot more. But if I never date again…well, maybe I'll find something else equally interesting to write about.
Grateful for: friends and patience.
I hope not.
The other day, my Dutch friend, Piet, sent me that pic of his older child. A while ago, he sent me a pic of his new baby wearing the hat I made for him. This time, his daughter is wearing the hat I made for her. The best part of the message is that Piet said she wouldn't take the hat off when they got inside. Can you blame her?
As part of my exchange with Piet, I asked if he remembered another email conversation we had a long time ago. I'd sent him an article related to it. In return, he sent me a copy of our original email from 1997. Damn. So, I'm not the only one who saves everything. Good to know.
On Wednesday, I went to the blogger meetup. I've been feeling "off" and a tad anti-social but I decided to go anyway. I also decided not to push it--not to make too much of an effort. Hmm…that sounds bad. But I didn't want to trip all over myself not saying the right thing or annoying folks, so I mostly kept quiet, asked a few questions, answered a few questions and tried to smile.
Joe took this awesome pic of my extra-long cuffs:
He couldn't look away but I'd never given them any thought. I'm more fascinated by the stripedy nature of the shirt. I do love my black and white stripes.
What else? Tonight, I was walking home from work, making a call on my cell phone and a lady in a car starts talking to me. I'm in the middle of leaving a freakin' message lady! It's ok, I gave her directions anyway. What can you do?
What I seem not to be able to do is post regularly. I don't know. Is it time for a hiatus? Ugh. As soon as I say I'm taking a break, I'll start posting like crazy.
This has been a good week at work but my dedication waned as the weekend approached. I had a big deadline, I met it, but now all the other deadlines are "soft." Even so, I got a few small projects off my plate and I even volunteered for a semi-academic task that is suspiciously like editing (hey, I'm good at it by now, at least) but a good deal more intellectually stimulating.
I will keep trying to work at work. But an average blog takes about an hour to write. I might be able to work that in too.
I guess the upshot is that I'll keep posting when I feel like it, which will be more than once a week but considerably less than daily. I hope you'll stick around. I'm pretty sure that if I ever date again, I will write about it and post a lot more. But if I never date again…well, maybe I'll find something else equally interesting to write about.
Grateful for: friends and patience.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Off and on
I have to say that all this working at work is cutting into my blogging time. In lieu of a better thought out post, here are some short notes on what's been going on with me:
a) Last Friday, I went out for dinner and music-listening with Pele and some friends. All night, I was a little "off." Things I said seemed to spark irritation rather than conversation. For example, I complained that my new co-ed sports team was made up of a group of strangers. One friend said, "What's wrong with that? If I were part of a team, I wouldn't want to get kicked off so strangers could join." I could see that she had a point, but I stuck to my guns. It wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it wasn't the most comfortable exchange either. What gives? Being right or wrong shouldn't matter in this context. Maybe it mattered a little too much to me.
b) Later the same evening, we went to listen to another friend DJ. Pele pointed out that the DJ was basically playing my record collection. I started to listen more closely and, indeed, I own the records (the actual vinyl LPs) for over 50% of the songs played. When his stint was done, I remarked to the DJ, "It was like you were playing my record collection!" He said, "Really? Great! If you have a party, I'll come over and spin." Now, it's not that I didn't appreciate the offer (it's kind of a cool idea) but it's not the reaction I expected. I thought he'd be impressed or offer me a compliment or ask about the records. I felt slightly disappointed but I'm not sure why.
c) Saturday morning, my outdoor soccer team had an informal practice. I rode my bike and managed to show up about 30 minutes late. The first thing someone said to me was, "You should take a lap to warm up—we all did." I said, "I'm warm, I rode my bike." I mean, really. It's practice. I rode my bike. Was I supposed to jog out of solidarity? My knees can't take that. Somehow I muddled through. And boy oh boy did I need the practice. I have about zero soccer skills and every little bit of drilling helps.
d) That night, I did nothing. I was tired from practice and had a game the next morning. My nothing involved moving books off shelves, doing all the bills, filing papers, knitting, watching football and cooking dinner. It was almost relaxing.
e) Sunday morning, I showed up early (on-time!) for my first co-ed indoor soccer game. It seemed easy compared to practice the previous day. While I'm not any better at this version of the game than outdoor, I did enjoy it and it's excellent exercise. The best I can say for myself is that I did nothing to cause major embarrassment. The teammates are friendly, and since we're all strangers, we're all on an equal footing. There's something to be said in favor of that. After the game I went grocery shopping. Can you spell excitement?
f) Monday after work I decided to go to this happy hour I've never been to sponsored by a group of which I'm a member. I went to the exact address on the email and the place wasn't there. I turned around and went home. Via some very minor internet detective work, I discovered that the place does exist, but the address they gave was one digit off: 2424 instead of 2524. Maybe next month!
g) Tuesday it was time for swing dance lessons again. Our last lesson (the place has been booked for other events the last three weeks) was the time I had the argument with one of my classmates. Last night, I worried about what would happen when faced with my "enemy." At first, I wasn't sure I'd recognize him but I sure did. He knew me too, at least I infer he did, because he very cleverly stood just to my right in the circle we form for class. By placing himself to my right, my enemy ensured that he'd dance with everyone else in the class before getting to me. In fact, our class is so large that we don't always make a full rotation. As it happened, my enemy and I never danced—one more rotation and we would have! Is he not the best enemy ever?
h) I enjoyed the non-class part of the evening due to a good band and a favorable ratio of competent to incompetent dancers. I danced with one fellow more than once and, for some reason, I told him my enemy story. Again, I was a little off. Oh well. CK was there too, which was great because I've been meaning to call her. We caught up and I told her about my enemy. She laughed and laughed. Triumph!
i) This morning, I got a call from an old grad school friend and she asked me to participate in a roundtable she is organizing for this year's professional association meetings. I gladly accepted and dashed off a very short "paper" (one page!) to reserve my space in her session. This is very good news because my name will be on the program and that's how I get my agency to pay for the trip. THEN I realized that the meeting is earlier than usual and that a good friend in Seattle is getting married the EXACT SAME WEEKEND. Well, damn. I don't know what I'm going to do about that.
k) In the interest of keeping work at the work place, that's it for today.
Grateful for: productivity.
a) Last Friday, I went out for dinner and music-listening with Pele and some friends. All night, I was a little "off." Things I said seemed to spark irritation rather than conversation. For example, I complained that my new co-ed sports team was made up of a group of strangers. One friend said, "What's wrong with that? If I were part of a team, I wouldn't want to get kicked off so strangers could join." I could see that she had a point, but I stuck to my guns. It wasn't exactly unfriendly, but it wasn't the most comfortable exchange either. What gives? Being right or wrong shouldn't matter in this context. Maybe it mattered a little too much to me.
b) Later the same evening, we went to listen to another friend DJ. Pele pointed out that the DJ was basically playing my record collection. I started to listen more closely and, indeed, I own the records (the actual vinyl LPs) for over 50% of the songs played. When his stint was done, I remarked to the DJ, "It was like you were playing my record collection!" He said, "Really? Great! If you have a party, I'll come over and spin." Now, it's not that I didn't appreciate the offer (it's kind of a cool idea) but it's not the reaction I expected. I thought he'd be impressed or offer me a compliment or ask about the records. I felt slightly disappointed but I'm not sure why.
c) Saturday morning, my outdoor soccer team had an informal practice. I rode my bike and managed to show up about 30 minutes late. The first thing someone said to me was, "You should take a lap to warm up—we all did." I said, "I'm warm, I rode my bike." I mean, really. It's practice. I rode my bike. Was I supposed to jog out of solidarity? My knees can't take that. Somehow I muddled through. And boy oh boy did I need the practice. I have about zero soccer skills and every little bit of drilling helps.
d) That night, I did nothing. I was tired from practice and had a game the next morning. My nothing involved moving books off shelves, doing all the bills, filing papers, knitting, watching football and cooking dinner. It was almost relaxing.
e) Sunday morning, I showed up early (on-time!) for my first co-ed indoor soccer game. It seemed easy compared to practice the previous day. While I'm not any better at this version of the game than outdoor, I did enjoy it and it's excellent exercise. The best I can say for myself is that I did nothing to cause major embarrassment. The teammates are friendly, and since we're all strangers, we're all on an equal footing. There's something to be said in favor of that. After the game I went grocery shopping. Can you spell excitement?
f) Monday after work I decided to go to this happy hour I've never been to sponsored by a group of which I'm a member. I went to the exact address on the email and the place wasn't there. I turned around and went home. Via some very minor internet detective work, I discovered that the place does exist, but the address they gave was one digit off: 2424 instead of 2524. Maybe next month!
g) Tuesday it was time for swing dance lessons again. Our last lesson (the place has been booked for other events the last three weeks) was the time I had the argument with one of my classmates. Last night, I worried about what would happen when faced with my "enemy." At first, I wasn't sure I'd recognize him but I sure did. He knew me too, at least I infer he did, because he very cleverly stood just to my right in the circle we form for class. By placing himself to my right, my enemy ensured that he'd dance with everyone else in the class before getting to me. In fact, our class is so large that we don't always make a full rotation. As it happened, my enemy and I never danced—one more rotation and we would have! Is he not the best enemy ever?
h) I enjoyed the non-class part of the evening due to a good band and a favorable ratio of competent to incompetent dancers. I danced with one fellow more than once and, for some reason, I told him my enemy story. Again, I was a little off. Oh well. CK was there too, which was great because I've been meaning to call her. We caught up and I told her about my enemy. She laughed and laughed. Triumph!
i) This morning, I got a call from an old grad school friend and she asked me to participate in a roundtable she is organizing for this year's professional association meetings. I gladly accepted and dashed off a very short "paper" (one page!) to reserve my space in her session. This is very good news because my name will be on the program and that's how I get my agency to pay for the trip. THEN I realized that the meeting is earlier than usual and that a good friend in Seattle is getting married the EXACT SAME WEEKEND. Well, damn. I don't know what I'm going to do about that.
k) In the interest of keeping work at the work place, that's it for today.
Grateful for: productivity.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
The good and the bad
The good is that I had a good time on New Year's Eve. The celebrations were minimal, which was perfect. I went to Pele's house, hung out with a few friends, ate a bunch, drank a little, played some games and talked a whole lot. Perfect. I was still recovering from my cold so an easy night was all I could handle.
I slept late on New Year's day. I stirred around 9am and noticed Tabitha the cat sleeping near me, on top of the covers. When I woke up around 10:30am, she was still there. Highly unusual. Turns out she managed to knock over the canister with her food so she had no need to cry for breakfast. She was all tired out from her New Year's feast. I honestly don't think there is any way to keep her from being a fat cat.
I hadn't quite decided what to do with my day but I figured I'd call Mom and say happy birthday (Jan 1 is her b-day) and maybe catch a movie.
The bad is that before I had a chance to call Mom, I got an email from her. She thanked me for the present I'd sent and said I shouldn't call her unless I was ready to deal with her issues.
Huh?
I thought everything was hunky-dory and I sent her an email to that effect. Her response was that our last conversation was about unimportant things and avoided the "real issues." Eventually we established that I could call to say happy birthday but that I shouldn't expect to have a long conversation.
I continue to fail to understand why our friendly conversations don't "count." Mom and I talked about as much real stuff (family, health issues, friend-updates, travel plans, minor annoyances) as I do on an average day with any of my friends. I mean, Pele and I have serious conversations, but we also spend about 10% of any conversation talking about football (it's not just for guys!). Ideally, I'd have a friendly, easy relationship with my mother with room for serious and frivolous conversations.
I have more to say about Mom, but what about some good to break it up? More good is that after my perplexing email exchange with Mom, the phone rang. I'm hesitant to answer my landline these days since it's usually a solicitation but I overcame my resistance and found myself talking to B2, my brother in Israel. (The home phone rings and it's most likely to be, in order: sales person, Dad, Mom, B2, B1.)
B2 was calling to tell me that the Big Box 'O Scarves had arrived in Israel safely and that my nieces (and niece-in-law) were delighted and wearing them all the time. In fact, it had just gotten cold there so the timing was perfect. Also, since people keep their houses colder in Israel, a lot of people wear scarves indoors. Perfect! I was so happy and gratified. It was a labor of love making those scarves. The process made me feel more connected to my nieces as I thought about each of them as I worked on her scarf. It's icing on the cake to know that they are wearing them and appreciating them.
B2 and I chatted about other things as well and it was quite a pleasant and friendly conversation. We don't talk very often but it's always good to hear from him.
After that, I decided to get out of the house and go to the movies. I also decided to call Mom on the way there. Somehow that conversation was going to be easier on the move.
I called and we eased into a friendly, random conversation. It seemed fine but when it was time to go, Mom let out a wistful, "So I guess we'll just keep avoiding the serious issues."
I said, "Look, I don't have a problem so I'm not really sure what the issue is."
"Sure, YOU don't have a problem."
"The only thing I can think of is the prayer shawl [a gift from my mother on the occasion of my Bat Mitzvah lo those many years ago] and, I don't know, I just think that if you want something, you should ask for it."
"That was not the point."
"What was the point?"
We ended up having a semi-productive talk about the prayer shawl. She said she didn't want it. What she did want was to know how I felt about it. I said that if that were the case, she should have asked me how I felt instead of implying that I didn't care about it. When we established that I do, in fact, care about the prayer shawl even though I don't intend to wear it, she seemed satisfied.
(As an aside, it really bothers me that I have to account for my feelings about this object to my mother. Why can't I just have my feelings? Why are my feelings any of my mother's business? I am trying to be sympathetic but this is a tough one for me to accept.)
You'd think that would be good. But no. Mom ended our conversation like this, "Well, that's one thing, but there are still more issues we'll have to deal with later. We can do that by appointment on the phone or I can write to you."
I said, "Happy Birthday!"
Yeesh.
Then I went to see Juno. (This is full of spoilers, be warned.) I'll say it was a fine movie but one thought kept running through my mind as I watched, "Why are they talking that way?" the jargon/slang used by the teenage protagonists was too clever by half. I am no enemy of quirky slang dialog in teenage movies—I thought it was used to great effect in Brick. But Juno went too far in this regard. Also, the theater was crowded and the laughing stepped on many of the lines. I would actually need to see it again to hear everything. Did I like it? I'm not sure. I liked a lot about it but I didn't seem to find it quite as hilarious as everyone else. Was it the woman's Knocked Up? I don't think so. It wasn't from a "full grown" woman's point of view—it's the story of a sixteen-year-old girl. A relatively mature one, but not an adult. Knocked Up mostly took the man's perspective—a grown man who acted like a sixteen-year-old. It's not equivalent. It's not about a woman who should be, but isn't, ready for adult responsibility. It's about an almost adult girl who isn't ready and knows it and figures out a way to be responsible (I guess). You know what bothers me about this picture? It's not the short-shrift given to the abortion option, which, thankfully is at least presented. It's the short-shrift given to the sex that leads to the unplanned pregnancy. Now, it may be silly to ask that sex be motivated between teenagers. They are teenagers! They all want to have sex all the time! Ok, I was a teenager and I remember what it was like. That's not what it was like for me. Juno is a girl who is very cool and smart and, perhaps we're all meant to identify with her, but I only sort of did. The sex is never shown, which is good. But it's never clear how it comes to be. I wanted to know more about her relationship with the boy. It's still a boy-gets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-fill-in-the-blank-girl story. Where are the details? Why must it be so elliptical?
And, why are they talking like that?
Possible favorite line: "I'm a cautionary whale." Particularly amusing from the too-tiny-to-be-believed Ellen Page.
Happy New Year! (Better late than never!)
Grateful for: friends.
I slept late on New Year's day. I stirred around 9am and noticed Tabitha the cat sleeping near me, on top of the covers. When I woke up around 10:30am, she was still there. Highly unusual. Turns out she managed to knock over the canister with her food so she had no need to cry for breakfast. She was all tired out from her New Year's feast. I honestly don't think there is any way to keep her from being a fat cat.
I hadn't quite decided what to do with my day but I figured I'd call Mom and say happy birthday (Jan 1 is her b-day) and maybe catch a movie.
The bad is that before I had a chance to call Mom, I got an email from her. She thanked me for the present I'd sent and said I shouldn't call her unless I was ready to deal with her issues.
Huh?
I thought everything was hunky-dory and I sent her an email to that effect. Her response was that our last conversation was about unimportant things and avoided the "real issues." Eventually we established that I could call to say happy birthday but that I shouldn't expect to have a long conversation.
I continue to fail to understand why our friendly conversations don't "count." Mom and I talked about as much real stuff (family, health issues, friend-updates, travel plans, minor annoyances) as I do on an average day with any of my friends. I mean, Pele and I have serious conversations, but we also spend about 10% of any conversation talking about football (it's not just for guys!). Ideally, I'd have a friendly, easy relationship with my mother with room for serious and frivolous conversations.
I have more to say about Mom, but what about some good to break it up? More good is that after my perplexing email exchange with Mom, the phone rang. I'm hesitant to answer my landline these days since it's usually a solicitation but I overcame my resistance and found myself talking to B2, my brother in Israel. (The home phone rings and it's most likely to be, in order: sales person, Dad, Mom, B2, B1.)
B2 was calling to tell me that the Big Box 'O Scarves had arrived in Israel safely and that my nieces (and niece-in-law) were delighted and wearing them all the time. In fact, it had just gotten cold there so the timing was perfect. Also, since people keep their houses colder in Israel, a lot of people wear scarves indoors. Perfect! I was so happy and gratified. It was a labor of love making those scarves. The process made me feel more connected to my nieces as I thought about each of them as I worked on her scarf. It's icing on the cake to know that they are wearing them and appreciating them.
B2 and I chatted about other things as well and it was quite a pleasant and friendly conversation. We don't talk very often but it's always good to hear from him.
After that, I decided to get out of the house and go to the movies. I also decided to call Mom on the way there. Somehow that conversation was going to be easier on the move.
I called and we eased into a friendly, random conversation. It seemed fine but when it was time to go, Mom let out a wistful, "So I guess we'll just keep avoiding the serious issues."
I said, "Look, I don't have a problem so I'm not really sure what the issue is."
"Sure, YOU don't have a problem."
"The only thing I can think of is the prayer shawl [a gift from my mother on the occasion of my Bat Mitzvah lo those many years ago] and, I don't know, I just think that if you want something, you should ask for it."
"That was not the point."
"What was the point?"
We ended up having a semi-productive talk about the prayer shawl. She said she didn't want it. What she did want was to know how I felt about it. I said that if that were the case, she should have asked me how I felt instead of implying that I didn't care about it. When we established that I do, in fact, care about the prayer shawl even though I don't intend to wear it, she seemed satisfied.
(As an aside, it really bothers me that I have to account for my feelings about this object to my mother. Why can't I just have my feelings? Why are my feelings any of my mother's business? I am trying to be sympathetic but this is a tough one for me to accept.)
You'd think that would be good. But no. Mom ended our conversation like this, "Well, that's one thing, but there are still more issues we'll have to deal with later. We can do that by appointment on the phone or I can write to you."
I said, "Happy Birthday!"
Yeesh.
Then I went to see Juno. (This is full of spoilers, be warned.) I'll say it was a fine movie but one thought kept running through my mind as I watched, "Why are they talking that way?" the jargon/slang used by the teenage protagonists was too clever by half. I am no enemy of quirky slang dialog in teenage movies—I thought it was used to great effect in Brick. But Juno went too far in this regard. Also, the theater was crowded and the laughing stepped on many of the lines. I would actually need to see it again to hear everything. Did I like it? I'm not sure. I liked a lot about it but I didn't seem to find it quite as hilarious as everyone else. Was it the woman's Knocked Up? I don't think so. It wasn't from a "full grown" woman's point of view—it's the story of a sixteen-year-old girl. A relatively mature one, but not an adult. Knocked Up mostly took the man's perspective—a grown man who acted like a sixteen-year-old. It's not equivalent. It's not about a woman who should be, but isn't, ready for adult responsibility. It's about an almost adult girl who isn't ready and knows it and figures out a way to be responsible (I guess). You know what bothers me about this picture? It's not the short-shrift given to the abortion option, which, thankfully is at least presented. It's the short-shrift given to the sex that leads to the unplanned pregnancy. Now, it may be silly to ask that sex be motivated between teenagers. They are teenagers! They all want to have sex all the time! Ok, I was a teenager and I remember what it was like. That's not what it was like for me. Juno is a girl who is very cool and smart and, perhaps we're all meant to identify with her, but I only sort of did. The sex is never shown, which is good. But it's never clear how it comes to be. I wanted to know more about her relationship with the boy. It's still a boy-gets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-fill-in-the-blank-girl story. Where are the details? Why must it be so elliptical?
And, why are they talking like that?
Possible favorite line: "I'm a cautionary whale." Particularly amusing from the too-tiny-to-be-believed Ellen Page.
Happy New Year! (Better late than never!)
Grateful for: friends.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Whew
I hate New Year's Eve. If you've been reading right along, you know this. For all my smug non-stress about Christmas, I am completely, always, stressed out by New Year's. I can count my truly enjoyable NYE celebrations on one hand…one finger, actually. I can count my non-miserable ones on two hands. And, on the third hand, the miserable ones. The misery is borne from completely unreasonable expectations of kisses, new loves and excitement. I've never wanted to be in Times Square, but I have wanted to be at drunken, debauched parties. I have always wanted a kiss at midnight with someone I loved. As much as I don't want to want those things, I want those things.
This year, I had nothing, no plan, no party, only a request from TR to babysit. Damn. Was it really that bad? I try not to make big plans for New Year's since I'm sure to be disappointed. The smaller the plans, the smaller the potential disappointment. But this year…Pele wasn't free and I didn't pursue arrangements with other friends. Why not? Laziness? You tell me.
Then Pele got free and we're going to do something with a small group. A games night or some such. That's fine by me. I'm still sick (almost better), I don't particularly want to go out (that way lies disappointment), but I don't want to babysit (the humiliation!) either.
I'm relieved and happy and not feeling like such a loser. If I get to hang out with Pele, her boyfriend, a few other folks, play games and drink champagne at midnight, I'll be happy (enough).
Something that made me genuinely happily was watching the Redskins win today. The only problem is that the first team they meet in the playoffs is the Seahawks. Argh! Stupid conflicting loyalties.
Last, the third anniversary of this here blog was yesterday. Three years, 869 (!) posts and still going strong…or at least still going.
I'm grateful for the friends who've been reading since the beginning and for the virtual and real friends I've made along the way. I'm also grateful for the other blogs that entertain me and the comments that make me feel appreciated.
Thank you so much for reading, commenting and befriending me. It means more than I could possibly express.
Grateful for: the blog and friends.
This year, I had nothing, no plan, no party, only a request from TR to babysit. Damn. Was it really that bad? I try not to make big plans for New Year's since I'm sure to be disappointed. The smaller the plans, the smaller the potential disappointment. But this year…Pele wasn't free and I didn't pursue arrangements with other friends. Why not? Laziness? You tell me.
Then Pele got free and we're going to do something with a small group. A games night or some such. That's fine by me. I'm still sick (almost better), I don't particularly want to go out (that way lies disappointment), but I don't want to babysit (the humiliation!) either.
I'm relieved and happy and not feeling like such a loser. If I get to hang out with Pele, her boyfriend, a few other folks, play games and drink champagne at midnight, I'll be happy (enough).
Something that made me genuinely happily was watching the Redskins win today. The only problem is that the first team they meet in the playoffs is the Seahawks. Argh! Stupid conflicting loyalties.
Last, the third anniversary of this here blog was yesterday. Three years, 869 (!) posts and still going strong…or at least still going.
I'm grateful for the friends who've been reading since the beginning and for the virtual and real friends I've made along the way. I'm also grateful for the other blogs that entertain me and the comments that make me feel appreciated.
Thank you so much for reading, commenting and befriending me. It means more than I could possibly express.
Grateful for: the blog and friends.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Show business
Seriously, I meant to get out today. But last night, I started to feel sick. Again! Ach. But, you know me, any excuse to stay home. I think I'm ready to give it up. If I feel like staying home, I'm staying home. It's so cozy and nice here. The cat is friendly, the electric heater keeps it warm (gas is so expensive!), and the knitting goes well.
I do worry, though, that I'm becoming overly introverted, isolated, anti-social. On the other hand, I went to the movies with C-money yesterday and it was good fun. We talked for a while after and it was just like old times. On Friday, I went out with Pele and we had a good time.
Maybe it's ok to hibernate for a while. Maybe it's better to do what I feel like and not worry about it. It's not like I'm turning down invitations. Au contraire.
Tomorrow, well, I'll go out if I feel like it. I think I will. It may be a drive out to the Eden Center and a movie or just a walk over to Union Station. I'll play that by ear.
The movie was saw on Sunday was Sweeney Todd. It was C-money's suggestion. I was happy to go, though, since I'm a big musical fan.
When I was in the sixth grade and we lived in DC, my parents bought the record. As I did with most of their other records of musicals, I played it over and over. (Among the ones I memorized: West Side Story, Guys and Dolls, Annie Get Your Gun, Candide, Kiss Me Kate, The Pajama Game, My Fair Lady, Cabaret and A Chorus Line. Among the ones that perplexed me: Company, Finnian's Rainbow, Fiorello, The Fantasticks and The Most Happy Fella.)
The music is what drew me to these shows. Since I'd never seen any of them, I couldn't always put the plots together and the actual meaning of the songs often escaped me. As a grade-schooler, I could warble every word of "Adelaide's Lament" from Guys and Dolls without the slightest clue that the song was about a woman's (comic) despair about her boyfriend's unwillingness to marry her.
Even though I was a little older (11 or 12) when I first listened to Sweeney Todd, the grim center of the show didn't make a strong impression on me. What I noticed were the hilarious lyrics and beautiful melodies. When a traveling production came to DC, my parents got tickets. I begged my mother to let me go. I'd been listening to the record non-stop for weeks. I knew the whole score by heart. My mother said no, that I was too young. I pouted but I didn't get to go.
After Mom got back from seeing it, she said, "I should have let you go." She didn't enjoy it--it was too grim for her and she didn't know the songs as well as I did.
As it turns out, I've never seen a stage production of Sweeney Todd. Of all those shows listed, I've only seen three on the stage (I've also seen a few not listed). When a film version exists, I've seen it and usually not liked it. The lyrics are inevitably changed for films and I can't bear it. I want to sing along (silently). Or, sometimes, the casting is unbearable. Marlon Brando in Guys and Dolls is awful and I love Brando. Frank Sinatra is almost as bad. Natalie Wood almost ruined West Side Story--the dubbing was painful. However the second leads save that film. Hello Rita Moreno!
Anyway, back to Sweeney Todd. I'd seen some of it on tv. They filmed one of the performances and it aired on PBS way back when. But filmed stage plays always fall flat. Only a film adaptation gets the three dimensions needed to make a show live.
In this movie, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter did a decent job. Their singing wasn't great but their acting was and that was sufficient. I had a couple of moments of nostalgia for Angela Landsbury. Her cloying, pragmatic Mrs. Lovett is un-toppable, but Bonham-Carter was rather un-waif-ish and convincing and I liked her. She and Depp have matching looks, which worked.
The music was great. I haven't listened to the album in years, but I could have sung along to most of the show. I still love the music.
As to the story, boy oh boy, was it grim. The body count was high and every murder was shown in full bloody detail. I had to shield my eyes. Yes, I am that squeamish.
The show was trimmed to make for a movie-appropriate running time, leaving gaping holes in the subplot. That was unfortunate.
It's not exactly family-friendly holiday fare. And there are some head scratching moments. But mostly it made me remember the joy I got listening all those years ago, memorizing the words, singing along and living in the music. So what if it wasn't a perfect interpretation, it was close enough.
Not a bad present, actually.
Happy merry everyone! I hope you're spending X-mas in exactly the way you desire.
Grateful for: musicals.
I do worry, though, that I'm becoming overly introverted, isolated, anti-social. On the other hand, I went to the movies with C-money yesterday and it was good fun. We talked for a while after and it was just like old times. On Friday, I went out with Pele and we had a good time.
Maybe it's ok to hibernate for a while. Maybe it's better to do what I feel like and not worry about it. It's not like I'm turning down invitations. Au contraire.
Tomorrow, well, I'll go out if I feel like it. I think I will. It may be a drive out to the Eden Center and a movie or just a walk over to Union Station. I'll play that by ear.
The movie was saw on Sunday was Sweeney Todd. It was C-money's suggestion. I was happy to go, though, since I'm a big musical fan.
When I was in the sixth grade and we lived in DC, my parents bought the record. As I did with most of their other records of musicals, I played it over and over. (Among the ones I memorized: West Side Story, Guys and Dolls, Annie Get Your Gun, Candide, Kiss Me Kate, The Pajama Game, My Fair Lady, Cabaret and A Chorus Line. Among the ones that perplexed me: Company, Finnian's Rainbow, Fiorello, The Fantasticks and The Most Happy Fella.)
The music is what drew me to these shows. Since I'd never seen any of them, I couldn't always put the plots together and the actual meaning of the songs often escaped me. As a grade-schooler, I could warble every word of "Adelaide's Lament" from Guys and Dolls without the slightest clue that the song was about a woman's (comic) despair about her boyfriend's unwillingness to marry her.
Even though I was a little older (11 or 12) when I first listened to Sweeney Todd, the grim center of the show didn't make a strong impression on me. What I noticed were the hilarious lyrics and beautiful melodies. When a traveling production came to DC, my parents got tickets. I begged my mother to let me go. I'd been listening to the record non-stop for weeks. I knew the whole score by heart. My mother said no, that I was too young. I pouted but I didn't get to go.
After Mom got back from seeing it, she said, "I should have let you go." She didn't enjoy it--it was too grim for her and she didn't know the songs as well as I did.
As it turns out, I've never seen a stage production of Sweeney Todd. Of all those shows listed, I've only seen three on the stage (I've also seen a few not listed). When a film version exists, I've seen it and usually not liked it. The lyrics are inevitably changed for films and I can't bear it. I want to sing along (silently). Or, sometimes, the casting is unbearable. Marlon Brando in Guys and Dolls is awful and I love Brando. Frank Sinatra is almost as bad. Natalie Wood almost ruined West Side Story--the dubbing was painful. However the second leads save that film. Hello Rita Moreno!
Anyway, back to Sweeney Todd. I'd seen some of it on tv. They filmed one of the performances and it aired on PBS way back when. But filmed stage plays always fall flat. Only a film adaptation gets the three dimensions needed to make a show live.
In this movie, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham-Carter did a decent job. Their singing wasn't great but their acting was and that was sufficient. I had a couple of moments of nostalgia for Angela Landsbury. Her cloying, pragmatic Mrs. Lovett is un-toppable, but Bonham-Carter was rather un-waif-ish and convincing and I liked her. She and Depp have matching looks, which worked.
The music was great. I haven't listened to the album in years, but I could have sung along to most of the show. I still love the music.
As to the story, boy oh boy, was it grim. The body count was high and every murder was shown in full bloody detail. I had to shield my eyes. Yes, I am that squeamish.
The show was trimmed to make for a movie-appropriate running time, leaving gaping holes in the subplot. That was unfortunate.
It's not exactly family-friendly holiday fare. And there are some head scratching moments. But mostly it made me remember the joy I got listening all those years ago, memorizing the words, singing along and living in the music. So what if it wasn't a perfect interpretation, it was close enough.
Not a bad present, actually.
Happy merry everyone! I hope you're spending X-mas in exactly the way you desire.
Grateful for: musicals.
Monday, December 17, 2007
A quick note
I'm home, safe, after my short trip to PA. It was good to see Dad and not fight with him. A sure outcome of any kind of blow up with Mom. That is the universal balance: you may only get along with one parent at a time. The upside? You are never fighting with both parents at the same time. I wonder if this equation is different with still-married parents?
The brief visit with our old family friends was good, despite the circumstances. That's how it goes. It helps if the person being memorialized was old and had a good life. That was the case. And I love this family. They are my family, truly. We as close as any cousins. Certainly as close as I am to my own cousins—just less obligation and more true affection.
I also connected with a man who is a true cousin to this family, though merely a second-time acquaintance of mine. I'd say this is someone who would have romantic potential if he lived on this side of the country. As it is, we have friendship potential, but probably nothing will come of it because of the distance. He charmed me with an antic puppet performance with the raggedy stuffed bunny (named "Hare") of the only youngster in attendance and his insistence on agreeing with my movie opinions in a long conversation with his brother.
Last, my NJ brother, B1, was not there and I don't know why. However, I just realized that I forgot his birthday for at least the second year in a row. I feel guilty and want to buy forgiveness with a hand-knit scarf. As it is, I'll give him a call tonight and apologize. I'm fairly sure that if he were ever in touch with me, I'd remember, but that's a pretty lame excuse. Sigh.
Grateful for: family and friends.
The brief visit with our old family friends was good, despite the circumstances. That's how it goes. It helps if the person being memorialized was old and had a good life. That was the case. And I love this family. They are my family, truly. We as close as any cousins. Certainly as close as I am to my own cousins—just less obligation and more true affection.
I also connected with a man who is a true cousin to this family, though merely a second-time acquaintance of mine. I'd say this is someone who would have romantic potential if he lived on this side of the country. As it is, we have friendship potential, but probably nothing will come of it because of the distance. He charmed me with an antic puppet performance with the raggedy stuffed bunny (named "Hare") of the only youngster in attendance and his insistence on agreeing with my movie opinions in a long conversation with his brother.
Last, my NJ brother, B1, was not there and I don't know why. However, I just realized that I forgot his birthday for at least the second year in a row. I feel guilty and want to buy forgiveness with a hand-knit scarf. As it is, I'll give him a call tonight and apologize. I'm fairly sure that if he were ever in touch with me, I'd remember, but that's a pretty lame excuse. Sigh.
Grateful for: family and friends.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Oy vey
Where do I begin? Tuesday evening was unbelievable.
You'd think the van being towed away would be the worst thing that happened. In fact, it was the least worst thing of the day.
Here's the short version of the story:
Van breaks down. Crazy tow truck driver yells at me and drives off. After a successful tow, I call my mother. She gets angry almost immediately--before I can even tell her about the crazy tow truck driver. I get home and rant at Amanda and Chris (her fiancé) and they listen patiently.
Here's the long version of the story:
I loaned the van to Amanda for a couple of days so she could visit friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. On Tuesday evening, she picked me up from work and I took over driving duties. Unfortunately, she had an encounter with a gas station stanchion and either put a new dent in the van or added to a current dent. There are so many dents that it's hard to tell. I didn't care.
We'd decided to get Ethiopian food and we headed to U Street. A couple of blocks away from the restaurant, I noticed a cloud of white smoke coming from the rear of the van and a red light on the dash. I pulled over and went back to take a look. What looked like water was pouring out of the engine compartment. Because it was dark, I couldn't see what was going on with the engine--I assume a hose was disconnected or punctured.
It was time to call AAA. While we waited for the tow, Chris went to get the food. Why not? About half an hour later, he came back and we set up for an Ethiopian picnic in the back of the van. So far, this is about the best wait-for-a-tow experience I've ever had.
About ten minutes into our meal, the tow truck shows up. Amanda and Chris pack up and grab their luggage. I tell them where to catch a cab. I'm talking to the tow truck driver when they head off. This was a mistake. I should have asked them to wait until we had the car hitched up before they went for the cab. But I couldn't imagine there would be a problem.
The first thing that happens is the driver asks me where the drive is.
Jamy: Um, well, the engine is in the rear, so it's rear wheel drive.
Driver: You sure?
And he SMIRKS. He smirks at me. I'm not pleased.
Jamy: Yes, yes, I'm sure. It's rear wheel drive.
Driver: You sure? It important.
Jamy: Yes, rear-wheel drive.
Then he gets on his cell phone. He's an immigrant and speaking another language but occasionally I hear him say "Volkswagen."
After a couple of minutes of this I say, "Are you calling to find out about the drive?"
"Yes."
"Want me to check the manual?" I head to the glove box and pull out the manual.
"Ok."
I check. Guess what? It's rear-wheel drive. I say, "It's rear wheel drive."
"What? Sure?"
I say, loudly, "YES. It's REAR-WHEEL DRIVE."
He says, "I don't need this from you!"
I say, "What?"
He says, "Please move the car across the street. You must move the car."
I say, "Ok. Why?"
He says, "Why! Why! You have to move the car! It's a one-way street!"
What he didn't explain is that because the car is rear-wheel drive, you have to hook it up to the rear wheels. The way the car was parked, you couldn't access the rear.
I say, "I'm just asking why."
"No, no. STOP YELLING AT ME."
I say, "What? I'm just asking why. Is it because you have to hook up from the rear?"
"STOP YELLING AT ME. STOP. STOP."
I wasn't yelling at him. I was annoyed. I'd been annoyed since the initial smirk, but I consciously lowered my voice. "I'm just asking you a question."
"I WON'T DO THIS. I'M LEAVING."
I say, "You can't just leave!"
He screamed, "Yes I can!" And he drove off.
HE DROVE AWAY AND LEFT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET!
My heart was pounding and I was short of breath.
I called AAA. I made a complaint. According to them, the driver reported that the van needed a flatbed tow and that's why he couldn't take me. I figured that was just an excuse he made for abandoning me, but I didn't know for sure.
Next I called TR. He offered to come get me. Mostly I needed to hear a sympathetic voice. The crazy tow truck driver was large and menacing. I needed to feel safe. I told TR I'd wait for the next truck and call him again if there were a problem.
The next truck came quickly. He happened to have a flatbed rig. I asked him, "Do I need a flat bed tow?"
He said, "No."
We successfully dropped the car by my mechanic. He's supposed to look at it today. Hopefully it's nothing serious. (Turns out it's the water pump. $600 please!)
On my walk home from the repair shop, I decide to call my mother. It's been a while since we talked. Whenever we go this long without a conversation, it's a good bet she's stewing about something. But, hell, I'd just had a scary encounter with an angry tow truck guy and I wanted to talk to my mother.
After I tell her the van had broken down, I mentioned that Amanda had added to the size of one of dents in the van. Mistake.
Mom said, "That's the problem. Amanda caused this."
"No! No. There was too much time between when Amanda hit it and the leak started. That can't be it. Plus, where it was dented wasn't near the engine."
"The leak couldn't come from the engine."
"Ok, yes, I mean the engine compartment."
"It could have been from the water tank." (She means the reservoir for the little sink.)
"Well, no, it couldn't have been. That's not where the water was coming from."
Mom says, "Why are you angry at me?"
Huh? "I'm not angry at you! I'm just trying to explain what happened."
"Ok. But you sound angry."
I say, "Why are YOU angry at ME?"
"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of this nothing."
Oh good gracious!
What is my mother angry about? It's hard to say since she can't articulate it. As usual, she focused her annoyance with me on an object. Remember the saga of the china and the camper? This time it's my grandfather's prayer shawl (aka "tallit"). Apparently, I don't appreciate it sufficiently. She gave the prayer shawl to me at the time of my Bat Mitzvah. We're talking almost 25 years ago. Now she wants it back. But she can't just ask for it back. She has to first justify her desire to possess this object by accusing me of not appreciating it.
"It doesn't mean anything to you. It's my father's tallit. Are you ever going to use it?"
"To be honest, no, I'm not going to use it. But it's mine, you gave it to me. For my Bat Mitzvah! And now you want it back! And I've offered to give it to you before and you didn't want it!"
She says, "Now I want it."
"I think this is so unfair! So unreasonable! You gave it to me."
She's been mentioning this object for at least EIGHT YEARS and playing a game of wanting it/not wanting it and refusing to ask for it. She won't say that she wants it (except for last nigh!). She will say that I don't appreciate and that I won't use it. Traditionally, ONLY MEN wear prayer shawls! MEN ONLY. Yes, some women do these days, including my mom, but not including me.
Look, my grandfather died when I was four. He adored me. And for my Bat Mitzvah, I wore his prayer shawl. It has symbolic meaning for me. Plus, the main reason I did the Bat Mitzvah was for my grandmother. I'm sure she was pleased to see me wearing grandpa's tallit.
After talking to Nancy about this yesterday, I realize that if Mom had asked for it differently, I would have given it too her long ago.
Imagine mom saying, "I know it's yours, but I would love to be able to use it. It has great symbolic meaning to me. Would you mind letting me borrow it indefinitely so I can actually wear it? If you ever want it back, all you have to do is ask."
How could I say no to that? I wouldn't even want to! But I do want to say no to the implication that I don't value this object. I do value it. I miss my grandfather and it is meaningful to be the keeper of this object. However, I would trust my mother with it. Why, why am I required to justify myself in this matter?
I want to mail it to her with this letter:
Dear Mom,
I know what you meant to do was ask to borrow the tallit on a semi-permanent basis because it was your father's and it has great symbolic meaning to you. I know you didn't mean to imply that it doesn't have meaning to me or that I don't value it sufficiently. I know you would never deny my feelings. I would love you to have the use of it. Please wear it in good health.
Love,
Your daughter
However, I'm not sure I have the chutzpa for that.
After we got off the phone, I left a pretty crazy message for Pele. Then, I ranted to Amanda and Chris. Thank goodness they were there! It would have been a terrible night to be alone.
Amanda and Chris: thank you SO MUCH for your patience.
I went to work on Wednesday and old boss, Larry, saw me in the hall and started chuckling. TR had told him about my angry tow truck driver. I told him the whole story. I said, "I'm not without blame, but his reaction was disproportionate."
Larry said, "There are just some crazy people out there."
I said, "Like my mother!"
I made it ok through the day, but I was almost falling asleep through an afternoon meeting.
On my way home via Union Station, I ran into an old friend, with his two little kids. One a toddler, the other a practically newborn infant. I haven't seen him for years. It was good to see him but it was awkward too. I knew he was married. He lives in Arlington, but we haven't stayed in touch. I wish we could still be friends but I understand why were not. He said, "You can see what's new with me! What's new with you?"
I said, "Well probably lots of things…but I'm at the same job. I bought a condo a few years ago. And I have a cat." Noticeably missing from my answer: husband and kids. Whatever.
Then, I got home and had to knit. Very calming. Other knitters will understand that I needed to work on a simple, simple project. It's good to have a few projects going of varying degrees of complexity to suit your mood. I knit for a bit then ate some of the leftovers.
Then JenA called. Yay! I may drop by and see her on my drive back from PA this weekend (don't worry, I'm driving the flexcar!).
Then I got an email from Mom, a forward about a job in Seattle. FOR REAL. No explanatory text, just a forwarded message.
Then Pele called. I rehashed some of the mom stuff with her. Helpful.
I IM'd with a friend.
I got back to my tv/dvd watching.
Around 11pm, I heard a bang-bang-bang at the front (outer) door. Hrm. It came again.
Just wearing my PJs, I peeked out. Guess who?
KANSAS. (Do you all even remember Kansas? My ne'er-do-well, alcoholic, non-boyfriend?)
I poked my head out the door and said. "No, no. This is not cool."
He said, "No?"
I said, "No. I haven't heard from you in months and you show up….No. You have to go."
He left. I went to sleep.
You know what? I'm staying home today. I need a rest.
Grateful for: good friends.
You'd think the van being towed away would be the worst thing that happened. In fact, it was the least worst thing of the day.
Here's the short version of the story:
Van breaks down. Crazy tow truck driver yells at me and drives off. After a successful tow, I call my mother. She gets angry almost immediately--before I can even tell her about the crazy tow truck driver. I get home and rant at Amanda and Chris (her fiancé) and they listen patiently.
Here's the long version of the story:
I loaned the van to Amanda for a couple of days so she could visit friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. On Tuesday evening, she picked me up from work and I took over driving duties. Unfortunately, she had an encounter with a gas station stanchion and either put a new dent in the van or added to a current dent. There are so many dents that it's hard to tell. I didn't care.
We'd decided to get Ethiopian food and we headed to U Street. A couple of blocks away from the restaurant, I noticed a cloud of white smoke coming from the rear of the van and a red light on the dash. I pulled over and went back to take a look. What looked like water was pouring out of the engine compartment. Because it was dark, I couldn't see what was going on with the engine--I assume a hose was disconnected or punctured.
It was time to call AAA. While we waited for the tow, Chris went to get the food. Why not? About half an hour later, he came back and we set up for an Ethiopian picnic in the back of the van. So far, this is about the best wait-for-a-tow experience I've ever had.
About ten minutes into our meal, the tow truck shows up. Amanda and Chris pack up and grab their luggage. I tell them where to catch a cab. I'm talking to the tow truck driver when they head off. This was a mistake. I should have asked them to wait until we had the car hitched up before they went for the cab. But I couldn't imagine there would be a problem.
The first thing that happens is the driver asks me where the drive is.
Jamy: Um, well, the engine is in the rear, so it's rear wheel drive.
Driver: You sure?
And he SMIRKS. He smirks at me. I'm not pleased.
Jamy: Yes, yes, I'm sure. It's rear wheel drive.
Driver: You sure? It important.
Jamy: Yes, rear-wheel drive.
Then he gets on his cell phone. He's an immigrant and speaking another language but occasionally I hear him say "Volkswagen."
After a couple of minutes of this I say, "Are you calling to find out about the drive?"
"Yes."
"Want me to check the manual?" I head to the glove box and pull out the manual.
"Ok."
I check. Guess what? It's rear-wheel drive. I say, "It's rear wheel drive."
"What? Sure?"
I say, loudly, "YES. It's REAR-WHEEL DRIVE."
He says, "I don't need this from you!"
I say, "What?"
He says, "Please move the car across the street. You must move the car."
I say, "Ok. Why?"
He says, "Why! Why! You have to move the car! It's a one-way street!"
What he didn't explain is that because the car is rear-wheel drive, you have to hook it up to the rear wheels. The way the car was parked, you couldn't access the rear.
I say, "I'm just asking why."
"No, no. STOP YELLING AT ME."
I say, "What? I'm just asking why. Is it because you have to hook up from the rear?"
"STOP YELLING AT ME. STOP. STOP."
I wasn't yelling at him. I was annoyed. I'd been annoyed since the initial smirk, but I consciously lowered my voice. "I'm just asking you a question."
"I WON'T DO THIS. I'M LEAVING."
I say, "You can't just leave!"
He screamed, "Yes I can!" And he drove off.
HE DROVE AWAY AND LEFT ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET!
My heart was pounding and I was short of breath.
I called AAA. I made a complaint. According to them, the driver reported that the van needed a flatbed tow and that's why he couldn't take me. I figured that was just an excuse he made for abandoning me, but I didn't know for sure.
Next I called TR. He offered to come get me. Mostly I needed to hear a sympathetic voice. The crazy tow truck driver was large and menacing. I needed to feel safe. I told TR I'd wait for the next truck and call him again if there were a problem.
The next truck came quickly. He happened to have a flatbed rig. I asked him, "Do I need a flat bed tow?"
He said, "No."
We successfully dropped the car by my mechanic. He's supposed to look at it today. Hopefully it's nothing serious. (Turns out it's the water pump. $600 please!)
On my walk home from the repair shop, I decide to call my mother. It's been a while since we talked. Whenever we go this long without a conversation, it's a good bet she's stewing about something. But, hell, I'd just had a scary encounter with an angry tow truck guy and I wanted to talk to my mother.
After I tell her the van had broken down, I mentioned that Amanda had added to the size of one of dents in the van. Mistake.
Mom said, "That's the problem. Amanda caused this."
"No! No. There was too much time between when Amanda hit it and the leak started. That can't be it. Plus, where it was dented wasn't near the engine."
"The leak couldn't come from the engine."
"Ok, yes, I mean the engine compartment."
"It could have been from the water tank." (She means the reservoir for the little sink.)
"Well, no, it couldn't have been. That's not where the water was coming from."
Mom says, "Why are you angry at me?"
Huh? "I'm not angry at you! I'm just trying to explain what happened."
"Ok. But you sound angry."
I say, "Why are YOU angry at ME?"
"I'm tired of this. I'm tired of this nothing."
Oh good gracious!
What is my mother angry about? It's hard to say since she can't articulate it. As usual, she focused her annoyance with me on an object. Remember the saga of the china and the camper? This time it's my grandfather's prayer shawl (aka "tallit"). Apparently, I don't appreciate it sufficiently. She gave the prayer shawl to me at the time of my Bat Mitzvah. We're talking almost 25 years ago. Now she wants it back. But she can't just ask for it back. She has to first justify her desire to possess this object by accusing me of not appreciating it.
"It doesn't mean anything to you. It's my father's tallit. Are you ever going to use it?"
"To be honest, no, I'm not going to use it. But it's mine, you gave it to me. For my Bat Mitzvah! And now you want it back! And I've offered to give it to you before and you didn't want it!"
She says, "Now I want it."
"I think this is so unfair! So unreasonable! You gave it to me."
She's been mentioning this object for at least EIGHT YEARS and playing a game of wanting it/not wanting it and refusing to ask for it. She won't say that she wants it (except for last nigh!). She will say that I don't appreciate and that I won't use it. Traditionally, ONLY MEN wear prayer shawls! MEN ONLY. Yes, some women do these days, including my mom, but not including me.
Look, my grandfather died when I was four. He adored me. And for my Bat Mitzvah, I wore his prayer shawl. It has symbolic meaning for me. Plus, the main reason I did the Bat Mitzvah was for my grandmother. I'm sure she was pleased to see me wearing grandpa's tallit.
After talking to Nancy about this yesterday, I realize that if Mom had asked for it differently, I would have given it too her long ago.
Imagine mom saying, "I know it's yours, but I would love to be able to use it. It has great symbolic meaning to me. Would you mind letting me borrow it indefinitely so I can actually wear it? If you ever want it back, all you have to do is ask."
How could I say no to that? I wouldn't even want to! But I do want to say no to the implication that I don't value this object. I do value it. I miss my grandfather and it is meaningful to be the keeper of this object. However, I would trust my mother with it. Why, why am I required to justify myself in this matter?
I want to mail it to her with this letter:
Dear Mom,
I know what you meant to do was ask to borrow the tallit on a semi-permanent basis because it was your father's and it has great symbolic meaning to you. I know you didn't mean to imply that it doesn't have meaning to me or that I don't value it sufficiently. I know you would never deny my feelings. I would love you to have the use of it. Please wear it in good health.
Love,
Your daughter
However, I'm not sure I have the chutzpa for that.
After we got off the phone, I left a pretty crazy message for Pele. Then, I ranted to Amanda and Chris. Thank goodness they were there! It would have been a terrible night to be alone.
Amanda and Chris: thank you SO MUCH for your patience.
I went to work on Wednesday and old boss, Larry, saw me in the hall and started chuckling. TR had told him about my angry tow truck driver. I told him the whole story. I said, "I'm not without blame, but his reaction was disproportionate."
Larry said, "There are just some crazy people out there."
I said, "Like my mother!"
I made it ok through the day, but I was almost falling asleep through an afternoon meeting.
On my way home via Union Station, I ran into an old friend, with his two little kids. One a toddler, the other a practically newborn infant. I haven't seen him for years. It was good to see him but it was awkward too. I knew he was married. He lives in Arlington, but we haven't stayed in touch. I wish we could still be friends but I understand why were not. He said, "You can see what's new with me! What's new with you?"
I said, "Well probably lots of things…but I'm at the same job. I bought a condo a few years ago. And I have a cat." Noticeably missing from my answer: husband and kids. Whatever.
Then, I got home and had to knit. Very calming. Other knitters will understand that I needed to work on a simple, simple project. It's good to have a few projects going of varying degrees of complexity to suit your mood. I knit for a bit then ate some of the leftovers.
Then JenA called. Yay! I may drop by and see her on my drive back from PA this weekend (don't worry, I'm driving the flexcar!).
Then I got an email from Mom, a forward about a job in Seattle. FOR REAL. No explanatory text, just a forwarded message.
Then Pele called. I rehashed some of the mom stuff with her. Helpful.
I IM'd with a friend.
I got back to my tv/dvd watching.
Around 11pm, I heard a bang-bang-bang at the front (outer) door. Hrm. It came again.
Just wearing my PJs, I peeked out. Guess who?
KANSAS. (Do you all even remember Kansas? My ne'er-do-well, alcoholic, non-boyfriend?)
I poked my head out the door and said. "No, no. This is not cool."
He said, "No?"
I said, "No. I haven't heard from you in months and you show up….No. You have to go."
He left. I went to sleep.
You know what? I'm staying home today. I need a rest.
Grateful for: good friends.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Mini-stories
Dancing
I missed the first class in my series of eight lessons but I took the second class and was just fine. I've taken quite a few swing dance classes with the same instructors and I know a lot of the material. I was hoping that I'd be familiar with the material from first class and I was. I was relaxed and easy. I practiced my "smile at everyone" technique and everyone was very friendly. It's easy and it works.
The male-to-female ratio was perfect but the nerd quotient was high. Very high. I had a good time but left early. I was still tired from staying home sick most of the previous week. I'm looking forward to the next lesson.
No-show
Sue me, I skipped ushering. There's only so much a body can do.
Mega-fan
On Thursday, I went to my volunteer gig (reading to kids) after the second day of my conference. I had to plan the evening's activities, which I found a bit overwhelming in conception. However, the execution went rather well. We had fewer kids than last time, so fewer disruptions. We knew all the kids from last time, which meant everyone was more comfortable. The kids liked the books and the activity. I learned: I can plan an arts and crafts activity. My main principle: keep it simple, stupid. It worked.
After the volunteering, I hightailed it to Arlington to watch football with Pele and her boyfriend. No offense, Pele, but I know why the BF doesn't have people over more often—that place is a mess! However, I didn't care because the tv was HUGE and the couch was comfortable. Pele even ordered dinner for me! And the BF picked it up! He can keep that place as messy as he likes and it won't bother me one bit.
Finally, finally, the Redskins won. It was a relief. Pele told the BF that I'm a mega fan. He is a long time fan himself. I demurred and saying that following a team faithfully for one season does not make a mega fan. (Though I actually watched quite a few games last year.) He was amused. Me too.
No sale
On Friday, I was too lazy to go to the blogger happy hour—or was I too drunk? Probably both. I was also invited to a cocktail party at a neighbor's house. This was, in fact, a "sales" party at TR's house, organized by his wife. For the first part of the evening, TR was out with the kids and we ladies ate and drank and then listened to a sales pitch for high-end skin care products. I'm sure the products were all excellent but I just couldn't deal with it (i.e., buy anything). When TR eventually joined us, then retired to the kitchen to wash dishes, I followed him. We talked about work and football. A lot about football. TR asked my opinion about football. Bizarre.
Aside: I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of sport and why so many of us are attached to watching. First, I think it signals an ability to identify with something outside of oneself and the desire to be part of something larger than oneself. It's foolish, sure, but deeply meaningful. Second, it is about the best source of small talk ever! Yay sports!
Humorous epilogue: guess who spent $100 on high end skin care products at L'Occitane en Provence on Monday? (Shampoo, conditioner, toner, body wash and a present for Mom.) My usual source for such products (with the exception of the present) is the drug store and very occasionally the hair salon. I am a paradox.
Par-tay
On Saturday, I ended up with two party invites. One to the "party of mystery" and another from a work acquaintance. I spent most of the day hanging around the house slowly cleaning, knitting and watching dvds. I picked up my Seattle friend, Amanda, and her fiancé up from the airport around 7pm and took them home. We hung out for a while, but, as planned, I left for my parties around 9pm. (My exchange with Amanda about this went something like this:
Me: I feel bad taking you home and then just leaving you there.
Amanda: What, you don't trust us alone at your place?
Me: No! I feel like a bad host.
Amanda: Don't be silly.)
I drove to Arlington, to the work-acquaintance party. I was flying solo, but that was fine since I knew people where I was going. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a party of five (including me). Work friends, Nina, Danielle and Deirdre and the host, Bill, were the only other guests. I can't explain why, but I stayed there for the rest of the evening. I get along great with Bill, well with Danielle and so-so with Nina and Deirdre. Yet, Nina is my actual friend from this group. I can explain, but it's tiresome. I had a sufficiently entertaining time. Then I went home.
Brunchy
On Sunday morning, I took Amanda and her fiancé to Arlington (popular place!) to meet Amanda's brother for brunch. I joined them and it was fun. It's been years since I've seen Amanda's brother and I got to meet his kids too. After brunch and a little shopping, we parted ways. I let Amanda borrow the car for a couple days since she is also visiting friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. She'll come back to my place tonight—we're going to dinner. Hope she's enjoying driving the camper. Heh.
Wrap-up
This week is busy too. Last night, I went to a staged-reading of my playwright friend's newest play. Great, just as expected. Tonight, Amanda is staying with me. Tomorrow, I bake brownies. Thursday, I will probably skip a happy hour. Friday is our office party, at TR's place, which means a short day. Saturday, I drive to PA for a memorial service. Sunday, I drive home. Blah. I'm tired already.
Last week, as I mentioned, I sat in a conference for two days. I found it interesting and useful. About halfway through the second day, though, I started to fade. I started doodling and writing. I put my mind to an idea for a novel. Somehow, the background of a power point presentation is conducive to creativity. Perhaps it's because it doesn't insistently demand my attention like television.
What's great is that I came up with what might be a reasonable structure for a novel I would enjoy writing. It will be heavily (mostly) autobiographical, but it will be presented as fiction. That way I can fill in where I can't remember the actual events and dialog and I can drop/combine/create characters as needed. Plus, I have a gimmick. I've already written some unknown proportion of the novel via the blog, though the blog will not be part of the novel.
The real question is: when am I going to write this novel? And, I suppose, do I really want to write this novel? It used to be that when I got home, I set myself up with the computer and typed away while I watched tv. Now, I combine knitting with my tv watching and do very little writing at home or on the weekends. The knitting is deeply satisfying. The process is pleasurable and having something to show for it is awesome.
Have I traded the blog hobby for a knitting hobby? Perhaps. But, well, I'd like to think that I now have two awesome hobbies. Before, I could count reading and movies as hobbies, but they don't require the same amount of input, and don't result in the same level of satisfaction. (I guess you could classify my recreational sports activities as hobbies too, but they have a vastly different purpose.)
It's all a question of priorities. If the novel is the highest priority, then less time should be devoted to tv and knitting. I still have some thinking to do about this.
Of course, work is still phenomenally slow, which means if I were a tiny bit more efficient, a great deal of writing could be done at the office. It's possible that this is exactly how I wrote my dissertation. Don't quote me. (Dissertating also included many weekends and late nights at the office. It included very little time working from home.)
Off to the next event!
Grateful for: opportunities and inspiration.
I missed the first class in my series of eight lessons but I took the second class and was just fine. I've taken quite a few swing dance classes with the same instructors and I know a lot of the material. I was hoping that I'd be familiar with the material from first class and I was. I was relaxed and easy. I practiced my "smile at everyone" technique and everyone was very friendly. It's easy and it works.
The male-to-female ratio was perfect but the nerd quotient was high. Very high. I had a good time but left early. I was still tired from staying home sick most of the previous week. I'm looking forward to the next lesson.
No-show
Sue me, I skipped ushering. There's only so much a body can do.
Mega-fan
On Thursday, I went to my volunteer gig (reading to kids) after the second day of my conference. I had to plan the evening's activities, which I found a bit overwhelming in conception. However, the execution went rather well. We had fewer kids than last time, so fewer disruptions. We knew all the kids from last time, which meant everyone was more comfortable. The kids liked the books and the activity. I learned: I can plan an arts and crafts activity. My main principle: keep it simple, stupid. It worked.
After the volunteering, I hightailed it to Arlington to watch football with Pele and her boyfriend. No offense, Pele, but I know why the BF doesn't have people over more often—that place is a mess! However, I didn't care because the tv was HUGE and the couch was comfortable. Pele even ordered dinner for me! And the BF picked it up! He can keep that place as messy as he likes and it won't bother me one bit.
Finally, finally, the Redskins won. It was a relief. Pele told the BF that I'm a mega fan. He is a long time fan himself. I demurred and saying that following a team faithfully for one season does not make a mega fan. (Though I actually watched quite a few games last year.) He was amused. Me too.
No sale
On Friday, I was too lazy to go to the blogger happy hour—or was I too drunk? Probably both. I was also invited to a cocktail party at a neighbor's house. This was, in fact, a "sales" party at TR's house, organized by his wife. For the first part of the evening, TR was out with the kids and we ladies ate and drank and then listened to a sales pitch for high-end skin care products. I'm sure the products were all excellent but I just couldn't deal with it (i.e., buy anything). When TR eventually joined us, then retired to the kitchen to wash dishes, I followed him. We talked about work and football. A lot about football. TR asked my opinion about football. Bizarre.
Aside: I've been thinking a lot about the meaning of sport and why so many of us are attached to watching. First, I think it signals an ability to identify with something outside of oneself and the desire to be part of something larger than oneself. It's foolish, sure, but deeply meaningful. Second, it is about the best source of small talk ever! Yay sports!
Humorous epilogue: guess who spent $100 on high end skin care products at L'Occitane en Provence on Monday? (Shampoo, conditioner, toner, body wash and a present for Mom.) My usual source for such products (with the exception of the present) is the drug store and very occasionally the hair salon. I am a paradox.
Par-tay
On Saturday, I ended up with two party invites. One to the "party of mystery" and another from a work acquaintance. I spent most of the day hanging around the house slowly cleaning, knitting and watching dvds. I picked up my Seattle friend, Amanda, and her fiancé up from the airport around 7pm and took them home. We hung out for a while, but, as planned, I left for my parties around 9pm. (My exchange with Amanda about this went something like this:
Me: I feel bad taking you home and then just leaving you there.
Amanda: What, you don't trust us alone at your place?
Me: No! I feel like a bad host.
Amanda: Don't be silly.)
I drove to Arlington, to the work-acquaintance party. I was flying solo, but that was fine since I knew people where I was going. Upon arrival, I was greeted with a party of five (including me). Work friends, Nina, Danielle and Deirdre and the host, Bill, were the only other guests. I can't explain why, but I stayed there for the rest of the evening. I get along great with Bill, well with Danielle and so-so with Nina and Deirdre. Yet, Nina is my actual friend from this group. I can explain, but it's tiresome. I had a sufficiently entertaining time. Then I went home.
Brunchy
On Sunday morning, I took Amanda and her fiancé to Arlington (popular place!) to meet Amanda's brother for brunch. I joined them and it was fun. It's been years since I've seen Amanda's brother and I got to meet his kids too. After brunch and a little shopping, we parted ways. I let Amanda borrow the car for a couple days since she is also visiting friends in Baltimore and Annapolis. She'll come back to my place tonight—we're going to dinner. Hope she's enjoying driving the camper. Heh.
Wrap-up
This week is busy too. Last night, I went to a staged-reading of my playwright friend's newest play. Great, just as expected. Tonight, Amanda is staying with me. Tomorrow, I bake brownies. Thursday, I will probably skip a happy hour. Friday is our office party, at TR's place, which means a short day. Saturday, I drive to PA for a memorial service. Sunday, I drive home. Blah. I'm tired already.
Last week, as I mentioned, I sat in a conference for two days. I found it interesting and useful. About halfway through the second day, though, I started to fade. I started doodling and writing. I put my mind to an idea for a novel. Somehow, the background of a power point presentation is conducive to creativity. Perhaps it's because it doesn't insistently demand my attention like television.
What's great is that I came up with what might be a reasonable structure for a novel I would enjoy writing. It will be heavily (mostly) autobiographical, but it will be presented as fiction. That way I can fill in where I can't remember the actual events and dialog and I can drop/combine/create characters as needed. Plus, I have a gimmick. I've already written some unknown proportion of the novel via the blog, though the blog will not be part of the novel.
The real question is: when am I going to write this novel? And, I suppose, do I really want to write this novel? It used to be that when I got home, I set myself up with the computer and typed away while I watched tv. Now, I combine knitting with my tv watching and do very little writing at home or on the weekends. The knitting is deeply satisfying. The process is pleasurable and having something to show for it is awesome.
Have I traded the blog hobby for a knitting hobby? Perhaps. But, well, I'd like to think that I now have two awesome hobbies. Before, I could count reading and movies as hobbies, but they don't require the same amount of input, and don't result in the same level of satisfaction. (I guess you could classify my recreational sports activities as hobbies too, but they have a vastly different purpose.)
It's all a question of priorities. If the novel is the highest priority, then less time should be devoted to tv and knitting. I still have some thinking to do about this.
Of course, work is still phenomenally slow, which means if I were a tiny bit more efficient, a great deal of writing could be done at the office. It's possible that this is exactly how I wrote my dissertation. Don't quote me. (Dissertating also included many weekends and late nights at the office. It included very little time working from home.)
Off to the next event!
Grateful for: opportunities and inspiration.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Go, go, go
On advice of colleagues, my mini-crisis at work is over. I'm not applying to the leadership development program because it will almost certainly be a waste of my time. If I do decide I want to advance, there will be other avenues. A more serious problem is my work relationship with TR. I just don't have sufficient respect for him as a boss. He doesn't delegate and he can only imagine doing most things one way—his way! That is a big problem for me. Others in the division are happy with him so some of this is simply a style difference. And the respect thing. I have to figure out how to manage him and myself so that we can work together productively. We only have conflict when he's telling me what to do. When he asks for my advice, we're dandy. I really am a bad employee—but I was so good for Larry! One's boss makes so much difference. Sigh.
Enough about tiresome work. In contrast to last week's breakable obligations and many sick days, this week is a whirlwind of activity. I'm out every night through Sunday. I wonder if I'll make it?
Tonight, I have a swing dance lesson. I missed the first lesson last week so I'll be playing catch up. These lessons can be hard and since I haven't been dancing frequently, I'll be clumsy. I'm going to try and relax and not pressure myself to be "perfect." I'll have fun and do the best I can. I'm going home after work to grab a quick bite and then drive to the venue. The lesson lasts until nine and I could stay for dancing until midnight. Hmm…home by eleven is probably reasonable.
Tomorrow, I'm out of the office all day for a conference. In the evening, I'm ushering. Because of the location of the meeting and the ushering, I'll drive the van in the morning and park it near my office. I'll metro to the meeting and back, walk to ushering and drive myself home at the end of the evening. It's nice to have a car. In this case, the drive in the morning will save me about an hour or more of metro time.
Thursday is similar to Wednesday. It's the second day of the conference. Again, I'll drive the van and park near the office and metro to the conference. I have to leave the conference as soon as it ends, take the metro back to the van and then drive to the place where I'm doing a volunteer activity. It saves a lot of time to park the van near work and metro there instead of leaving it at home. Luckily, the volunteer event only lasts for an hour so I'll be home in plenty of time to watch football. Whew.
Friday I have an all-day meeting in Arlington. No van driving necessary! In the evening, I've agreed to go to a cocktail party at neighbor's place. I think they are going to try and sell me something. Turns out, the SEASON FINALE blogger happy hour is the same night! What should I do?
Saturday, I think I'll be cleaning—or at least tidying—the housing in the morning. In the early evening, I'm picking a friend up at BWI and in the later evening I'm going to a party of mystery. It's a party of mystery because I am not acquainted with the person who invited me. Luckily, I've recruited a friend to join me. If the party of mystery is simply boring, we'll find something else entertaining to do!
Sunday, I think I'll be resting.
Oh, and wait until I tell you what's happening next week! I'll save the details for later, but it's not nearly as crazy. I'm only busy on Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. And maybe Sunday.
Gotta love the holiday season. I'm glad I got my sickness out of the way last week because I don't have time to be sick again until the end of the month. Maybe I should pencil that in….
What's good about this week is all the time I get to spend out of the office. It's nice to mix it up. I hope the conference is interesting—but even if it's not, I can write notes to myself or daydream. I must try not to fall asleep. That's bad. If it's too boring, I can sneak away early and go back to the office…or not. Today, though, I need to make sure I get everything sewn up that needs attention before Monday, because I won't be here to deal with it. That's going ok so far.
Not sure at all about posting this week. It may or may not happen. But you're used to that by now, aren't you? At least I have a good reason this week: I'm busy. Funny how laziness and busyness have almost the same effect on my blogging. Heh.
One thing is for sure, though. If somewhere in this week of dancing, ushering, volunteering, conferencing, meeting, driving and partying I meet the man of my dreams/fall into lust with a cute guy, I will make time to write about it. Some things never change.
Grateful for: busy times.
Enough about tiresome work. In contrast to last week's breakable obligations and many sick days, this week is a whirlwind of activity. I'm out every night through Sunday. I wonder if I'll make it?
Tonight, I have a swing dance lesson. I missed the first lesson last week so I'll be playing catch up. These lessons can be hard and since I haven't been dancing frequently, I'll be clumsy. I'm going to try and relax and not pressure myself to be "perfect." I'll have fun and do the best I can. I'm going home after work to grab a quick bite and then drive to the venue. The lesson lasts until nine and I could stay for dancing until midnight. Hmm…home by eleven is probably reasonable.
Tomorrow, I'm out of the office all day for a conference. In the evening, I'm ushering. Because of the location of the meeting and the ushering, I'll drive the van in the morning and park it near my office. I'll metro to the meeting and back, walk to ushering and drive myself home at the end of the evening. It's nice to have a car. In this case, the drive in the morning will save me about an hour or more of metro time.
Thursday is similar to Wednesday. It's the second day of the conference. Again, I'll drive the van and park near the office and metro to the conference. I have to leave the conference as soon as it ends, take the metro back to the van and then drive to the place where I'm doing a volunteer activity. It saves a lot of time to park the van near work and metro there instead of leaving it at home. Luckily, the volunteer event only lasts for an hour so I'll be home in plenty of time to watch football. Whew.
Friday I have an all-day meeting in Arlington. No van driving necessary! In the evening, I've agreed to go to a cocktail party at neighbor's place. I think they are going to try and sell me something. Turns out, the SEASON FINALE blogger happy hour is the same night! What should I do?
Saturday, I think I'll be cleaning—or at least tidying—the housing in the morning. In the early evening, I'm picking a friend up at BWI and in the later evening I'm going to a party of mystery. It's a party of mystery because I am not acquainted with the person who invited me. Luckily, I've recruited a friend to join me. If the party of mystery is simply boring, we'll find something else entertaining to do!
Sunday, I think I'll be resting.
Oh, and wait until I tell you what's happening next week! I'll save the details for later, but it's not nearly as crazy. I'm only busy on Monday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. And maybe Sunday.
Gotta love the holiday season. I'm glad I got my sickness out of the way last week because I don't have time to be sick again until the end of the month. Maybe I should pencil that in….
What's good about this week is all the time I get to spend out of the office. It's nice to mix it up. I hope the conference is interesting—but even if it's not, I can write notes to myself or daydream. I must try not to fall asleep. That's bad. If it's too boring, I can sneak away early and go back to the office…or not. Today, though, I need to make sure I get everything sewn up that needs attention before Monday, because I won't be here to deal with it. That's going ok so far.
Not sure at all about posting this week. It may or may not happen. But you're used to that by now, aren't you? At least I have a good reason this week: I'm busy. Funny how laziness and busyness have almost the same effect on my blogging. Heh.
One thing is for sure, though. If somewhere in this week of dancing, ushering, volunteering, conferencing, meeting, driving and partying I meet the man of my dreams/fall into lust with a cute guy, I will make time to write about it. Some things never change.
Grateful for: busy times.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Still ill
I wish I could write that I was feeling 100% myself…well, I do feel like myself--myself when I'm sick. Argh.
Yesterday, I was moving slowly, but I got myself into the office by 11am. Not too shabby. I took care of a few things and worked through the email.
By 5:30, when I left, I was completely exhausted. Ridiculous! I ate a light supper, did a little knitting (yes, still obsessed) and slept hard. Or maybe not. I was coughing and sniffling all night. And "clicking." Ok, the clicking--when I have an itchy throat I made this clicking noise with my tongue in order to "scratch" the back of my throat. So, I was "clicking" all night. Clicking, coughing, sniffling and sneezing! Wonderful.
I could not get myself out of bed this morning. I decided one more day at home is needed. I was just too isolated from two days almost totally solo.
My plan for today is to drink lots and lots of tea. I ran out of green tea…but Pele brought me some oolong and jasmine back when she went to Taiwan a couple of months ago so I'm breaking them out. The oolong is good stuff.
I wish I had something more interesting to share. Un fortunately, the inspiration has all been whisked out of my head and replaced by headache. Boo.
Luckily, I'm over whatever sadness I felt about that ex-bf of mine. It was a fleeting feeling, thank goodness. I talked to work-friend, Nancy, yesterday and she pointed out, "You would have been waiting a long time for that guy. He just had a kid a year ago? And you dated him when you were 19?" True enough. But I'm still waiting…for something. I have to stop that.
Also, I'm loving facebook. My most recent friend is a fellow I knew in junior high school, "Sean." I'm not sure why I thought to look him up, but it may be because I told this story recently:
Sean and his best buddy were very popular in the eighth grade. The dressed like those guys in the Stray Cats--leather jackets and hair-dos and all. Sean's sister, April, was a senior and the most popular and admired girl in school. Ours was an artsy type school, so she was popular for her dramatic prowess and new-wave-ish style clothes. The less popular kids were more punk rock. One day, I ran into Sean and his buddy, and they teased me, "You're just trying to look like April. You want to be like April!"
I lied. I said, "No. This is just how I dress. I don't know what you mean."
They laughed and walked away. It was one of the happiest days of my junior high existence. I managed to look enough like April to be teased about it! Perfection.
In case you're wondering, my outfit consisted of: blue navy shell that once belonged to my mother, old enough to be vintage; a very thin knit burgundy cardigan with a black horizontal pin stripe, scavenged from my step-mother; a teal-green pleated mini-skirt that was actually a split-skirt, but you couldn't tell; black tights…and which shoes? Probably the black leather slip-ons with elastic on the side--sort of like little booties, but shorter. Ah, mid-'80s fashions, I did love them.
I don't care how lousy I feel tomorrow, I'm definitely going back to work. Enough is enough!
Grateful for: my fashion sense.
Yesterday, I was moving slowly, but I got myself into the office by 11am. Not too shabby. I took care of a few things and worked through the email.
By 5:30, when I left, I was completely exhausted. Ridiculous! I ate a light supper, did a little knitting (yes, still obsessed) and slept hard. Or maybe not. I was coughing and sniffling all night. And "clicking." Ok, the clicking--when I have an itchy throat I made this clicking noise with my tongue in order to "scratch" the back of my throat. So, I was "clicking" all night. Clicking, coughing, sniffling and sneezing! Wonderful.
I could not get myself out of bed this morning. I decided one more day at home is needed. I was just too isolated from two days almost totally solo.
My plan for today is to drink lots and lots of tea. I ran out of green tea…but Pele brought me some oolong and jasmine back when she went to Taiwan a couple of months ago so I'm breaking them out. The oolong is good stuff.
I wish I had something more interesting to share. Un fortunately, the inspiration has all been whisked out of my head and replaced by headache. Boo.
Luckily, I'm over whatever sadness I felt about that ex-bf of mine. It was a fleeting feeling, thank goodness. I talked to work-friend, Nancy, yesterday and she pointed out, "You would have been waiting a long time for that guy. He just had a kid a year ago? And you dated him when you were 19?" True enough. But I'm still waiting…for something. I have to stop that.
Also, I'm loving facebook. My most recent friend is a fellow I knew in junior high school, "Sean." I'm not sure why I thought to look him up, but it may be because I told this story recently:
Sean and his best buddy were very popular in the eighth grade. The dressed like those guys in the Stray Cats--leather jackets and hair-dos and all. Sean's sister, April, was a senior and the most popular and admired girl in school. Ours was an artsy type school, so she was popular for her dramatic prowess and new-wave-ish style clothes. The less popular kids were more punk rock. One day, I ran into Sean and his buddy, and they teased me, "You're just trying to look like April. You want to be like April!"
I lied. I said, "No. This is just how I dress. I don't know what you mean."
They laughed and walked away. It was one of the happiest days of my junior high existence. I managed to look enough like April to be teased about it! Perfection.
In case you're wondering, my outfit consisted of: blue navy shell that once belonged to my mother, old enough to be vintage; a very thin knit burgundy cardigan with a black horizontal pin stripe, scavenged from my step-mother; a teal-green pleated mini-skirt that was actually a split-skirt, but you couldn't tell; black tights…and which shoes? Probably the black leather slip-ons with elastic on the side--sort of like little booties, but shorter. Ah, mid-'80s fashions, I did love them.
I don't care how lousy I feel tomorrow, I'm definitely going back to work. Enough is enough!
Grateful for: my fashion sense.
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