Cat free living

This weekend was the cat transfer. Pele and I drove to Wytheville, VA where we met KJ, who traveled there from Nashville, TN. Yes, Tabitha the cat is taking up residence in Music City with two other cats and a dog--and two humans.

When people ask me why the cat is going to Nashville, I say, "To start her music career. She's always wanted to be a country singer."

The usual response is a blank stare. Either it's not funny or people think I'm serious (and crazy). My routine about wanting the cat to make dinner for me once in a while gets more laughs. "Is it too much to ask? She could just put a frozen dinner in the microwave--easy peasy!"

Anyway, it's a little sad to not have her around. After all, what's the payoff for the layer of cat hair coating the apartment if there's no actual cat around? However, I am looking forward to cleaning this week and not feeling that it's an exercise in futility.

Amusingly, today, I received a message from least favorite colleague, Mandy, the one who systematically excluded me from countless office happy hours and other events. It should be noted that she is on a three-month rotation out of the office that started in May. I have high hopes that she will never return.

She wrote:

Hi [Jamy],

Greetings from [large, exciting US city]! How are your preparations for Paris coming along? How was your one-week reconnaissance trip? I’m so exited for you! Let me know once you’re over there if you want a visitor because I don’t need much arm twisting to go to Paris. if the awards tickets are available – I’d stay in a hotel of course, but it would be fun to do a long weekend in Paris. FYI, I looked on the [elite private college] housing classifieds and didn’t see any apts available. I also asked [another colleague] if he would talk to his friends in Paris and then talk to you if he had any leads on any places, but I don’t know if he did.

[Mandy]

Wow. Wow! What is she thinking? When did we become friends? I remember when she originally offered to check her college housing list and I was surprised. I know she likes to be helpful--but to offer to visit me in Paris, it's just bizarre! I was at such a loss that I still haven't responded. I shared the mesage with (work friend) Nancy who suggested this response, "How about, 'No matter how lonely I get, I still won't want to see you?' :-)"

That about sums it up.

One more thing. I called my mom for Mother's Day, 'natch. Even though she doesn't buy it and I don't buy it, I worry that she'll be hurt if I don't at least call (I also sent a card, but it will be late). We had a good conversation where we talked a lot about me (whoops). I mentioned that I'd read an article about taking a sabbatical that says you're supposed to get into a routine right away or else you risk drifting and not getting anything accomplished. (In a way, drifting would be fine because mostly what I want to do is NOT WORK, but since I do have a goal of writing, I will need some kind of schedule.) Mom said, "What are you trying to do?"

I said, "Write!"

She said, "I think you just need time to settle in and find your rhythm."

"Really?"

"Yes. That article is true for some people, but not for you. You're not like that."

I said, "I'm not?"

"Remember, who was that in college? That teacher? Who said that if you took time off after college you'd never go back to school?"

"Oh, right," I said, "that was Paul [an advisor the program I was in]. He was wrong."

"Exactly. You still went to graduate school. You just need to settle in and you'll find your routine. That's how you are."

(Background: when I was in college, I had this plan to teach for one year in a "disadvantaged" high school before going to graduate school. Unfortunately, I would have had to get a teaching certificate to do this, which would have cost me an extra year of college and since I was already on the five-year plan, it never came to fruition. No Teach for America in those days! Instead, what I took crappy job for a while, quit that job and worked two or three crappy part-time jobs for a while, quite those jobs to go to Europe for three months, working one crappy job for a while before applying successfully to be a VISTA volunteer. I took about two and a half years between finishing my course work and starting grad school--which brought me to the ripe old age of 22.)

Mom's right and that is how I want to play it. I develop routines but it's usually an organic process rather than a deliberately planned one. I've spent a lot of time making grids of the days of the week and the hours in the day and planning what to do in each hour or two interval. Never, once have I ever followed one of these schedules for longer than a day. Yet, I do have routines and patterns. I like to be flexible. I know what needs to go into the little boxes of time and by the end of the day, the week, or the month, I get everything done. But I can't plan exactly when each task will get accomplished. Sometimes I plot out a day to make sure I'll get where I need to go on time. I will plan out vacations, roughly, to make sure I see everyone I want to see and get everywhere I want to go, but those are the exceptions. I operate more on a list model--I write a list and cross things off as I get them done. The timing isn't an issue.

I am sure I will find my rhythm. I'm planning to give myself the first month to suss things out and then I'll settle in to however I want to approach the rest of my time. I will be starting a language class (don't tell the French embassy) my second week there, which will provide structure around which to hang the my time. After that, I'll be on my own, but I think I'll manage. I hope so! I hope Mom is right.

Grateful for: KJ for taking the cat!

Jane Eyre

I have a weakness for Jane Eyre. It is absolutely my favorite story of all time. While I have stock answer for favorite movie (Born Yesterday) and favorite book (Jane Eyre), I somewhat doubt my favorite movie answer. After last night, though, I don't doubt my favorite book answer.

Last night, I stayed up to 1am watching a two-part Masterpiece Theater Version of Jane Eyre. It was good, not great, but I found myself incapable of turning off the tv or taping the end to watch later. I had to watch, that night, to get to the sweet ending.

This version tried to introduce "science" in the form of a naturalist houseguest and it didn't quite work for me but I admired the effort. There was also rather more canoodling between Jane and Mr. R than was plausible. No sex, but a couple of "sexy" scenes and I was like, "Oh, no, that is NOT Jane." But, overall, it told all parts of the story, including some of the early years which are often skipped entirely in film versions. Skipping them, I think, is a way of minimizing the importance of what happens to us in childhood. While this version emphasizes the "interesting" parts of the novel, it does give full coverage, which is great and challenging.

What I love about the novel isn't the plot as much as it's the main character. I love Jane. She knows herself so well and that is why I admire her.

I might not make the same choices as she made. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't (when I first read the book, I was sure I would). The ardent Christianity bothered me on my second read and I don't like it as a motivator. What I do like is that Jane will do as she sees fit, no matter what anyone else tells her. She also carves out her own version of Christianity to follow—she is not a puritan and can't completely turn the other cheek, but certain forms of immorality are unacceptable.

One great scene in the movie, which I'm not sure was in the book, Jane is telling someone [St. John] why she loves Mr. Rochester, even though he is a "bad man." She says, "I always knew myself but he was the first person who recognized me. And loved me because of it."

Exactly! We may be perfectly self-sufficient and independent and able to live without love (if necessary) but there is nothing sweeter in this life than being known and loved for who we are.

Segue to Mom….

And, that, I think, is why things are so hard and so easy with my mother. I have always known who I am. While I may muck around and make bad decisions, my basic sense of personhood and self-worth remains undisturbed. I only blame myself for the things that are my fault. I'll go out of my way to discover them but I won't take responsibility for things I can't control.

While the stuff with Mom is disheartening, because I assume that she does recognize me and love me for who I am, not just because I'm her daughter. I also know that I am who I am, and I am worthwhile, even if she can't always see it. What she thinks of me doesn't change me. It might make me feel bad, but that's all. It's not true just because she thinks it.

And, of course, she doesn't actually think it. She feels bad and dissatisfied about our relationship. She is torn between feeling underappreciated and worrying that she didn't do enough for me. But those feelings are coming from her and there is precious little I can do to change them.

We finally talked about all the issues on Saturday and, while frustrating at times, it was a good conversation. I'm glad that Mom said what she needed to say. What I needed to say was that I wasn't sure that anything I do will satisfy her. She agreed—she wasn't sure what it would take either!

The good news is that things are resolved, for now. And I am resolved that, in the future, I will remain calm and patient and not be offended or angry. I will listen and remember that I know who I am and I can handle it.

Plus, I'm going to reread Jane Eyre. It's about time.

Grateful for: Jane Eyre.

Enough

Some days you just want to go hide your head in the sand. Ok, maybe that's just me…and the ostriches.

After the most recent bout of Mom nuttiness, I decided, at Pele's prompting, to take her head on. My first instinct after our last conversation was total avoidance. While I tend to urge other people to confront the big emotional issues in their lives, and I'm pretty good at confronting recalcitrant boyfriends, I much prefer to run from my mother than confront her. It never goes well. Someone, odds are it's me, will end up screaming. I find giving or receiving screaming to be almost equally unpleasant. So, if that's where we're heading, I want to run.

I can think of a few "famous" confrontations in my life and how I tried to avoid them. The best ones have to do with Tom (important grad school boyfriend). After our first big fight, my instinct was to leave his house. We were standing in the kitchen. He said something that I found completely unacceptable and the next thing I knew I was standing at the door. I actually didn't remember walking there, I was just there, hand on the door knob, ready to go. Tom came over, put his arm across the doorway and said, "What are doing? Were you going to leave?"

I said, "I guess I was going to leave. I dunno."

He said, "No, we have to talk. You can't just leave."

Our worst fight came a couple of years later and was over the phone. I hung up on him two or three times and, after the last time, he just showed up at my house to deal with me in person.

I actually give him some credit for not letting me run away from these fights, though a little break and resumption under calmer circumstances might have been a good idea. Actually, though, knowing my powers of avoidance, it could have been a good long while before we ever got around to resolving those issues. (Of course, the issues were ultimately unresolvable, and we broke up.)

Ah, the issues. The problem with the current situation with Mom is that she knows what the issues are but I don't. I find this super perplexing. How can she have problems this urgent and difficult when I don't have a clue as to their nature?

So, trying to be proactive and conciliatory, I sent Mom an email last night that read in part, "I'm all for discussing the issues that concern you. We can either set up a time or do it when I next call…"

Today, I got her response. It read, in part, "I will try to note down my issues so I don't say them in a way that is uncomfortable for you. If I fail at that, please be sure that I love you and want to like you also."

I'm sorry, she "want[s] to like" me also? Wants to like me!!!! It's quite a pretty pass we've come to when the problem is that my mother doesn't like me anymore.

I tried very, very hard not to rise to this bait. I did not write back an angry, hurt response. To be honest, my initial response was to chortle in amazement that she could send such a message and think it would be comforting. I recognize that the love part is comforting but she immediately undercut it by adding the "want to like you" part.

I mean, am I really that bad? Could it really be that bad?

After some mulling and a couple of false starts, I sent this reply, "I'm trying not to be hurt that you 'want to like me.' Makes me feel pretty darn unlikable. However, I'm willing to listen and will do what I can to resolve your issues. I hope it will be enough."

Did I go for the guilt in this? Damn straight I did. And I hope she feels the twist of it because I find her approach to be unkind and unnecessarily harsh.

Plus, until I hear from her again, I'm in complete suspense (still!) as to exactly what these issues are, except they impede my likeability in some substantial way.

But, of course, and, as always, I dare say we will be quite far from scratching the surface of the "real" issues, whatever the heck they are, even after our next conversation. The "real" issues have to do with how my mother feels about having a child at all, which isn't something I can help with, no matter how much I change my behavior. (Not to mention that my attempts to change my behavior will most likely fail—as most humans' do.)

So, I don't know what to do. I think I'll go back to doing nothing and ignoring Mom until she gets in touch and tells me what the problem is. Though, of course, if I wait, she'll probably tell me I should have called—that she was waiting for my call. I guess I have to accept that I'm never going to win.

Clearly, I must have some issues with my mother or I wouldn't have so much to say about her. I do—I have more than one. The first that comes to mind is that she tends to be the voice of gloom. Whenever I tell Mom anything, she goes right to the most negative possible interpretation. I'm doing something wrong: expecting too much, expecting too little, worrying about nothing, behaving foolishly, etc. I don't feel supported by her or that it's safe to talk to her without getting hurt. She's always honest, though.

I also find her behavior frighteningly unpredictable. I'm never sure when something I say or do is going to make her upset.

When I visit, I fuss about how messy the place is, then I start cleaning up. Mom feels judged when I do this. Perhaps if I skipped the fussing and went straight to cleaning, that could be avoided.

There are topics she wants to discuss that I don't care to get into. She is offended when that happens. This may be one of the "issues" she wants to discuss.

Here is a good (or bad) example. When I was home for Yom Kippur, I fasted. Mom fasted for most of the day, but, for health reasons, she had water and a little food in the afternoon. At about hour 23 of my fast, she suggested I break early. (The fast should last about 25 hours, which I think is extreme!) I declined but, in the end, I started eating at about hour 24. It was around then that she asked, "Why do you fast?"

Now, I’m not saying it's an illegitimate question, but given that she seemed not very pleased that I was fasting (and that she wasn't—was it a contest?) and that I was tired and grumpy from fasting, I wasn't in the mood to talk about it. Religion is a tricky ground for us as she's gotten more religious over the years and I've stayed more or less the same (not very religious). So, I didn't give her an answer (I think I said, "I don't know"), she pressed me, I pushed back and ended with, "I don't want to talk about this!" She was royally pissed. I felt imposed upon. We ate together but it was not a cheerful meal.

I'm just going to hope that I can find a way to be understanding. I will pray that the "issues" are somewhat reasonable and won't set me to chortling incredulity. Or, if they do, I can restrain myself. Heh. Right, like that's gonna happen.

Grateful for: never a dull moment.

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.

Apply

Still sick but I had to drag myself into work today. I actually had work to do. Blah.

I got some work done, had lunch with Nancy, and obsessively read a new-to-me blog. I didn't think I still had the patience for that…

Remember I mentioned that annoying leadership-training program that I wasn't going to apply for? Well, they pushed the deadline and I'm going ahead and applying. Application is due tomorrow. I have a total phobia about applications. I know everyone hates them but I've always felt a little retarded about applying for things because I never filled out college applications (long story).

I got over it--I applied for my current job, I've applied for jobs and I'm almost done applying for a leadership-training program in which I don't really want to participate. Keeping my options open. After the last deadline passed, Larry (my old boss) called me and some of my other co-workers in and encouraged us to apply. Don't have to tell me twice.

The application is super annoying because you have to list all your good qualities but not sound vain. My tendency is to underplay my good qualities so the issue is more figuring out how to say enough good stuff.

Hey, I'm the person who wanted to leave my first job as "shipping clerk" on my resume because I dig the blue-collar implications. I can also list "van driver." But, jobs that occurred more than 20 years ago have now been expunged (by that rule, I may still include "van driver" but it's not relevant to my current career options).

So, tomorrow, no matter what, I'll drag myself to the office and finish the darn application. I'll remind myself that I don't have to accept the position if it's offered but I do need to give myself the option.

Last, I finally called my mom tonight. We had a good, friendly conversation. She was in good spirits and that made me happy. I feel much better, more relaxed and relieved to be able to have long, interesting conversations with Mom again.

Now I'm going to relax a little before going to sleep. A long day, this has been.

Grateful for:options

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.

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.

Oklahoma

Last night, I went to a high school football game in Clayton, NM. Tonight, I did my laundry in El Reno, OK. I'm staying in a crappy motel that feels like heaven due to cable and a bathroom. Ah, the HUGE things. (I "camped" (slept in the van/camper) for the prior three nights.)

The driving today was rough due to high winds. The van does not like mountain passes, but the consequence of driving over them is going slowly. The gusty winds of 20-30 mph mean being blown all over the road and tense shoulders from hanging tightly to the wheel.

Because of van-enforced slowness, I did a lot of my driving today off the freeway. It's much preferred, but the wind, oy, the wind!

I've done no updating thus far due to much less internet than expected. Also, I needed a couple of days to decompress from Mom. And, when with Mom (first three days of the trip), I couldn't write because she'd feel ignored. I finally wrote some notes yesterday and I'll have a longer story to tell when I get back. With pictures even! I'm spending 5-6 hours on the road a day, which isn't much, but the van is tough riding. It vibrates tremendously and is more tiring than driving a "regular" car.

Today, for example, I only made just over 300 miles, but I was on the road from 8am to 5pm. I took an hour for lunch and also made two gas stops, one stop for ice and another 30 minute stop when I ran into a little street festival along my back road route.

Sometimes, it was so scary, that I just had to stop and rest for a bit. Tomorrow, I'll get out of Oklahoma and into Arkansas. Once the plains are done, hopefully the winds will die down.

Obviously, there is no dating to write about, but you might be interested to hear that the Spanish Lessons guy has been in touch, regularly. He sent me several emails while I was in Seattle and actually called the night before I left. Due to Mom and fasting, I didn't call him back. But just last night, he called again, and we had a nice chat. I told him I was going to the high school football game and he wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Well, neither did I, but it seemed like the thing to do.

He asked me if I was lonely. That's an interesting question. I told him that, what with mountain passes, thunderstorms and high winds, I was totally focused on the job of keeping the van on the road. Loneliness didn't enter the picture. I did notice, though, when I had occasion to talk to people, I had a LOT to say. That's normal for me, but I am chattier than usual--because, even thought I'm not thinking about it, I miss talking to people.

When we said goodbye, he told me to be careful several times. I think he's sweet and not a player. Quirky, yes, and possibly not for me, but who knows?

Anyway, that's as close to dating as it gets these days. I'll have some pics up eventually, but I'm too tired to deal with that now. At this rate, I'll be on the road for four more days. I'm looking forward to home! But I will enjoy the rest of the drive if the conditions improve.

Grateful for: the road.

Trained

My week of management training went rather better than expected. I expected to be unconvinced and cynical. Instead, I could see the usefulness of many of the techniques presented to us. I also enjoyed meeting the other people in the class. It was kind of like jury duty in that way. Not quite as diverse but people from really different backgrounds doing very different things whom I wouldn't have met otherwise. Very interesting!

Now, of course, I am not a manager, so I won't have many opportunities to apply the things I learned in class. But in a couple of exercises I worked through ways to deal with coworkers that might actually yield better results than my past efforts. The focus in the class is on changing oneself, something I find hard to do, but which I'm open to trying. I will be trying some of these new strategies to get better cooperation from coworkers.

Better cooperation from contractors, though, is a different matter. The course didn't really touch those issues and I'm still struggling with how "empowerment" and "delegation" or the "Pygmalion effect" will get better quality work from fully empowered completely separate entities. Oh well.

I talked much too much, but got positive feedback from my classmates about what I said. They were interested and entertained by my tales of work-place miscommunication. Way to go dysfunctional agency!

The fighting with Mom has commenced. I'd say the problem from my end is that I'm not as engaged as she'd like me to be. Isn't that usually our problem? She's annoyed, among other things, when I'm on the computer. But it's not only her fault that I haven't posted, though that's a big part of it.

On the road tomorrow. Yom Kippur today. Have an easy fast if you're fasting (I am).

Grateful for: forgiveness.

I am awesome

I still haven't called the Spanish lessons guy but I'm going to, tonight. For real. I am. Really. Why is this so hard?

It's a damn good thing I stayed home yesterday because I haven't a minute to spare today on packing/cleaning/organizing. I'm going to Pele's right after work and who knows how late I'll be up. Well, probably not too late because I have soccer on Saturday morning. Then a van is coming to take me to the airport at 5pm (for an 8pm flight--so stupid!). Right, let's review: 11am soccer game, 30 minute drive from my house. I'll leave by 10:15 and be home by 1:30pm. That gives me 3.5 hours to shower, dress, do any last minute cleaning and pack. Good plan! I'll probably wake up early on Saturday and do most of the packing then. I foresee no packing tonight. See, I am awesome!

I got an email from JenA saying I should photograph my packing process. Is that actually of interest to anyone? If I get the pics off my currently full memory card before I start the packing process, I will do it. I could also do the camera phone-straight-to-blog thing (which is awesome and super easy, but the camera phone doesn't have much memory either...), but boy those pics are ugly.

Anyway. This is the story. I leave Saturday evening for ten fun-filled days of Mom. Mom has called me every day this week. And emailed. Seriously. She called me at 1:30 this afternoon to tell me I don't need to bring a towel.* Yeesh. I've been a little worried about the many solo driving days I have planned (not the being lonely part so much as the falling asleep behind the wheel part), but, y'know, I'm starting to think that after staying in Mom's no-room studio (it's large but has no separate rooms) for seven days and then being on the road with her for three, my week of solo driving is going to feel like a little slice of heaven. Awesome!

I'll be writing from the road [insert the usual caveats about internet access, scheduling unknowns, etc. here], so don't be a stranger.

*Not actually true. I asked about the towel. She called to tell me that a certain repair she wants done on the van is going to cost less than $100. Good to know, since I'm paying.

Grateful for: travel.

Love or hate?

Today, Mom sent me this pic of her dog and cat:

She wrote, "Who would believe it?"

I responded, "Love or hate? Or both?"

Mom replied, "Both."

That's life, isn't it?

Grateful for: both.

He's back

Monday night, I was sitting in front of the tv, in my pjs, knitting. I'm always knitting these days. It was about 9:30pm and I heard a strange noise coming from my front window. I got up and peeked out. I heard the noise again, looked down, and there was Kansas, standing in my front yard. He needs to learn to use the doorbell. He would have called…but he didn't have my number (see below).

I probably shouldn't have let him in, since we're on the road to Nowhere, via Ambivalentville, but that didn't stop me. Not to mention I hadn't heard a peep from him in five days. He was out of town for the last three, so the silence wasn't astonishing.

We sat on the couch--not next to each other. I didn't keep knitting, though (sometimes I do). He told me he just got back that day and wanted to see me. His phone was broken (that I knew) so he didn't call.

I found I was smiling. I'm a sucker for the, "I was out of town and the first person I wanted to see was you" line. He said it. I ate it up.

As he talked, told me about his trip (a fool's errand, but not my story to tell). I realized I was happy to see him. That surprised me. I thought we were winding down. I thought he was done. It was for the best. I can manage not to pursue things but it's much harder for me to ignore his overtures.

But there he was, making those overtures again, and I responded.

He left before midnight and I even had a decent night's sleep. I was happy to see him but who knows when I'll see him again. I don't like that--everything is on his terms, when HE has time to see me, when HE feels like calling. He told me again that he was a coward and I believe him.

Still, I was happy to see him. I guess I'll do what makes me happy. It sounds easy, doesn't it?

Note: you may wonder why I've broken radio silence on this topic. Mom isn't reading the blog anymore! We finally came to resolution and she accepted that I don't like her to read. She's respecting my wishes, irrational though they may be. I'm emailing her the "mom-safe" items and I can be a little more open in other areas. Very good news indeed.

Grateful for: boundaries.

Just the facts

Today I had occasion to use the fax machine, which lives outside the door of one of my older, male colleagues. I don't talk to him very often, but he's a nice, unpretentious man and he has a couple of kids. Since I've been working here (going on eight years), his daughter graduated from college, married a man and had a baby. As I glanced at him, sitting and reading at his desk, I thought about how it seems so easy for other people--they meet, fall in love, get married, have kids, like it were a normal, everyday thing. And it is. But not for me. Poor, poor me. Honestly, I don't know why it's so hard. Nothing I do seems to make a damn bit of difference. I still pursue the same old, hopeless paths I've always pursued. Yet, objectively, I'm not as screwed up as many people out there, so what's the hold up? Many people less interesting and desirable than I (and many more interesting and desirable) have managed the marriage and kids thing--so what's my problem? Exactly how is it that my approach is skewed just enough that these things are not happening for me? Could someone please give me the answer already so I can get to work fixing things? Then again, maybe it's not a personal issue at all. It's just demographics. Age, education, etc., conspiring against me. That's a little easier to take.

I was talking with a friend the other day about the situation with Kansas, and she said, "But don't you know that you deserve someone who is capable of giving you his full attention?"

I know the answer is "yes" but the first thing that occurred to me was, "Where is this person, willing to give me his full attention? And, in the meantime, isn't some attention better than none at all?" I didn't say that. Instead I said, "I don't really want a boyfriend right now." I have no idea if that's true, but it stopped the conversation dead, which was the point.

---

I continue to struggle with the blog as a place of self-expression. Why? Because my mother is reading (hi Mom). Evidence? We haven't spoken since I got my stomach test results back the other day, but she sent me a link to an article today about hernias. She also said she'd rather talk to me about such things and wished that I would call. Well, I wish that I would call too, but I don't want to talk to her. Why? Because she's reading the blog. I know, I know, the blog is public and I told Mom about it and so it's my funeral if she reads. But as you may or may not recall, I never gave her the address of the blog. I wanted her to know about it, because it's important to me, but I didn't want her to read it. She found the address through a web quirk and took that as license to read. Then I asked her not to read and she didn't for a long time, but (secretly?) resented me for making that request. We argued about it and I told her to do whatever she wanted, to read if she wanted, FINE WITH ME. But it turns out, not so fine.

It's not as though I wouldn't tell her about almost everything I write about eventually. I would and probably in even greater detail. Though, perhaps, with different details. Would I tell her that I'm kind of dating two guys? Possibly. Would I give her more details about Kansas than I'm sharing now? Probably eventually, but not in real time. I have a way of sharing information with Mom that I'm comfortable with, and this is not the way. And I know it seems insane that I feel my privacy is invaded, but I do. I also, well, I also understand (or think I understand) how parents worry about their kids and I want to protect my mom from that worry. Out here, I'm pretty exposed and it's just a bit too much for Mom. No, not for the actual person that is my mom, I'm sure she can handle it. But I want to shield the mother that exists for me, as her daughter. It's selfish, it's more about me than her, but that's how I feel. I have a need to protect that relationship, to control it, even if Mom doesn't feel the same way.

Perhaps if I had a different kind of blog or a different kind of relationship with my mother, it wouldn't matter. But I don't and neither one of those things is changing any time soon.

Perhaps this dreary post is appropriate for the dreary winter-like day we're having. I will, at least, leave you with two positive things:

1. The purple scarf is finished and I'm wearing it today. It's not nearly as ugly as anticipated. Fancy yarn helps.
2. Carolina won and Duke lost. Awesome first round tournament so far. Go Heels!

I'll grant this post was a long way from funny, but I'll get back there soon enough, I'm sure.

Grateful for: scarf-appropriate weather.