acrid tomato-
smell of dry vines uprooted
autumn's desolation
a few rasping leaves;
a snail's green shell, abandoned
whisper in the chill
Monday, November 12, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Friday. In a BIG Way.
No, my house didn't burn down... nothing was stolen... no accidents or illness (well, not for me and mine anyway, but more on that momentarily), or marital strife. This week was simply a stress-fest. A shining example of how cutting too many corners always leaves somebody painted into one.
(Warning... this journal is about to get all tech-y and work-related. If you're still here, you might want to have a comfy pillow handy since it's probably not of much interest to anybody but my stressed out self... lol!)
I work for a small IT company. Did I say small? That's much too generous. Let's try..... tiny. No... not quite. microscopic! Yes, that's the word I'm looking for. I say I work for the company, but I'm actually part owner... albeit a pretty small part. At present, there are exactly two of us here on a full time basis with a constantly rotating retinue of contractors doing everything from design, to development to network stuff. Contractors are good. They are very helpful when you're stuck for someone to do a given task. They are absolutely worthless when you need someone to "remember that project we were working on last spring?" That said, usually things run pretty smoothly. I handle all things development. My partner handles all things network-business-y. It works. He's a great schmoozer. He makes the best first impression you'll ever get (the French accent helps). He's also pretty good in that tangle of wires and menacing blinking boxes that populate our server room.
Network... LAN, WAN, IP, DNS, reverse DNS, A record, MX record, start this service, stop that service, open this port, close that port...
AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate it! I don't want to know!!!! I just want to come in and hide in my cluttered office and write my if...then loops!
Last Friday, with the help of some of the aforementioned contractors, we did a major network overhaul. Without getting too tech-y, this involved a whole new batch of IP addresses for all of our clients and us. Ugly under the best of circumstances. Again. I don't get it. I don't want to get it. I already know more than I ever wanted to! I can feel bits of useful information dropping out of the back of my head every time I learn more about it!
I came in on Monday morning to a voice mail message from my partner. He's got pneumonia. O.M.G. I get to work at 7:30. By 8:01 the phones were ringing off the hook.
"I can't send/receive email."
"I can't see my website."
"I can't ftp into my site."
WTF??! This was supposed to be DONE! I get on the phone with the consulting company and it takes me an hour just to get in touch with one of the guys who was actually here! Nobody knows nuthin'. They don't want to come back. God forbid they finish what they started! They'd rather walk ME through their diagnostics and repairs on the phone!!
This has gone on ALL WEEK. It's Friday and I have got NONE of my own work done, plus I've made myself look like an inept idiot for 5 days as I BS clients trying to sound like I know what the *)*&^^! is wrong with their email. Have I mentioned the boat-loads of verbal abuse heaped on me by those clients? That's been especially nice.
It's going to be even nicer next Monday when I have to explain to all my development clients (you know, the ones whose projects have been in the drawer all week?) why their projects are now a week behind!! I'd say I'll have to work from home all weekend, but...
I CAN'T CONNECT TO THE NETWORK!!!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Me
I get annoyed with myself when I write here's-how-I-feel today entries. They all seem to have escaped from high-school journals... the ones you wrote when you still believed that writing could change something. Anyway... here I go on this self-examination trip because I just feel like this stuff has been bumping around in my head for too long. (There's that word... "feel". Ick.)
So. How do I feel? Gray. Someone said that to me once and the image stuck. That person said that they felt as if there was a gray cloth draped over the world. I feel like there's a gray cloth draped over me.
"Me". Closed for the season.
All the things that I thought defined me are gone. The ones that remain don't seem to matter any more, and other things are much more important now. I waited too long to make the shift. When I made it, the shift was too abrupt. Too much got lost in the move. Music. Worthless. My daughter doesn't even want to hear me sing any more, and it's not like I have the time to go out and audition for something. Acting. ibid. I seem to remember travelling and taking language classes. I seem to remember being a fairly good converationalist. Not any more. Unless we're talking about kids, or .Net... and even then the well runs dry fairly quickly.
I don't look like the Me I remember. I've grown older in the past two years than in the 39 that went before. I feel old. I never did before. It's absolutely terrifying. I remember feeling attractive. Now I feel completely disconnected from myself physically, or worse, I feel like I'm apologizing for myself. (Now, that's something I do remember... circa 1979... age 13.)
I think I used to like Me. I want to remember why.
So. How do I feel? Gray. Someone said that to me once and the image stuck. That person said that they felt as if there was a gray cloth draped over the world. I feel like there's a gray cloth draped over me.
"Me". Closed for the season.
All the things that I thought defined me are gone. The ones that remain don't seem to matter any more, and other things are much more important now. I waited too long to make the shift. When I made it, the shift was too abrupt. Too much got lost in the move. Music. Worthless. My daughter doesn't even want to hear me sing any more, and it's not like I have the time to go out and audition for something. Acting. ibid. I seem to remember travelling and taking language classes. I seem to remember being a fairly good converationalist. Not any more. Unless we're talking about kids, or .Net... and even then the well runs dry fairly quickly.
I don't look like the Me I remember. I've grown older in the past two years than in the 39 that went before. I feel old. I never did before. It's absolutely terrifying. I remember feeling attractive. Now I feel completely disconnected from myself physically, or worse, I feel like I'm apologizing for myself. (Now, that's something I do remember... circa 1979... age 13.)
I think I used to like Me. I want to remember why.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Brave
Kassia said the strangest thing last night...
It was bed time and she was running through her usual litany of reasons why she can't go to sleep quite yet...
"I have to go potty"
"I can't find [insert name of toy here]."
and the last ditch effort...
"Mimi, I want to tell you something... [insert whichever thought that happens to be in her head at this moment]"
Well, last night she said "Mimi, I want you to tell me something..." So I went back over and told her "You are the bestest, smartest, prettiest girl in the whole world, and I love you very, very much." (Ok... so I'm biased... ;-)
Here's the strange part.
She put her hands on either side of my head and said "Mimi, you're brave."
After a quick doubletake I asked her "Why?" and she just disolved into giggles and said "Becuase you're........... good!"
I gave her a kiss, said "good night" and closed the door.
I can't imagine she really has a handle on what "brave" means... I mean, she's heard the word, but it's not one we use very often. It was just a strange little moment. She seemed much older than her years.
It was bed time and she was running through her usual litany of reasons why she can't go to sleep quite yet...
"I have to go potty"
"I can't find [insert name of toy here]."
and the last ditch effort...
"Mimi, I want to tell you something... [insert whichever thought that happens to be in her head at this moment]"
Well, last night she said "Mimi, I want you to tell me something..." So I went back over and told her "You are the bestest, smartest, prettiest girl in the whole world, and I love you very, very much." (Ok... so I'm biased... ;-)
Here's the strange part.
She put her hands on either side of my head and said "Mimi, you're brave."
After a quick doubletake I asked her "Why?" and she just disolved into giggles and said "Becuase you're........... good!"
I gave her a kiss, said "good night" and closed the door.
I can't imagine she really has a handle on what "brave" means... I mean, she's heard the word, but it's not one we use very often. It was just a strange little moment. She seemed much older than her years.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Screeeeeeeeaaaaaming!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
LAAAAA LAAAAAA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
I was just reading a blog somewhere by a mom who says her "nerves are bleeding" because her toddler screams all the time... for no apparant reason. I know I'm supposed to shake my head in empathy... but when my daughter hits that high E over C, (and you just have to see the look on her face when she does it -- somewhere between mischief and triumph), I have to say it just makes me smile... No. It makes me GRIN. It makes me giggle. To be honest... it makes me want to join her!
Yes, I know I should give her some wise and constructive line about "inside voices", but I just can't bring myself to squash the joy that just bursts out of her as she discovers being alive.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Serenade
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Bionic Mom
Well, it certainly took me long enough to get around to writing this...
I got up at 4a.m. on Monday, Jun 18, got dressed and called a cab to take me to the hospital. Brian stayed at home so that he could take Kassia to daycare later in the morning. I know it sounds terribly melodramatic, especially in hindsight, but I admit I was terrified. It was a beautiful morning and walking into the basement surgery intake area was like walking into a tomb. (Ok. Melodrama over.)
I went through the whole triage thing, after which I got to sit on a cold metal chair in my oh-so-fashionable hospital gown with unshaven legs (I wasn’t allowed to shave anything for a week before the surgery… ewww.) for about 30 minutes before they finally called me in. Thus far, I was unimpressed. Anyway, they loaded me onto a gurney and started a barrage of medical history questions – all of which I had answered about a hundred times already over the course of the preceding few weeks. I was very nervous. I remember hearing myself making the same really stupid jokes over and over with each new nurse who came over. Finally the surgeon arrived and we went through the medical history questions again. Then he wrote his initials on my right hip with a purple magic marker… so he wouldn’t forget which one to replace…! AAAAAK! He told me not to worry; that this was going to be “a breeze”. Then the anesthesiologist came over with a couple of nurses to start an IV. They tried my arm. Couldn’t find a vein. They tried my wrist. Couldn’t find a vein. They tried my arm again. Still no vein. Then the first nurse gave up and the 2nd one went for the back of my hand. Owwwwwwwwww!! “I’ve almost got it… I can feel it rolling around.” I almost puked. Finally, she gave up and got the anesthesiologist to do it. Again in the hand.
I don’t remember much after she turned on the IV. I sort of remember being wheeled toward the door, but that memory could be mixed up with the next memory I have which was waking up.
Oh. My. God. It freakin’ HURT. I was barely conscious and faces were everywhere asking me if I knew who where I was. All I could think was “Will you all please just shut up!?” but talking was really hard. I kept trying to ask if somebody would please put a pillow under my knee because lying flat was like being stretched on a rack. You’d have thought I’d asked for a direct line to the President. They spent an eternity trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. C’mon folks… you just ripped my leg out of its socket, sawed off the top, replaced it with a ceramic/silicone/titanium contraption, popped it back in and you’re wondering if a pillow is going to do me any harm??? Hello??!!!! Finally, some compassionate nurse gave me the pillow. I remember asking if Brian were there; then I remember being wheeled through the hallway and hearing somebody calling him. The lights seemed unbelievably bright. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in my room.
Brian was there holding my hand. I was cold. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold. My teeth were chattering like a room full of typists. I know Brian was talking to me, but I kept dropping off. The surgery had been at 8am. I wasn’t really aware of the time again until around 4pm. I guess that’s when the anesthesia finally wore off – mostly. I was still shivering. Then somebody else came in to say that they were going to give me a unit of blood because my temperature and blood pressure were still too low. Brian left not too long after that. He had to go pick up Kassia at daycare. I didn’t really mind. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Somebody came in to tell me how to use the morphine button, but I guess I wasn’t paying very good attention. They said I could press the button every 10 minutes as needed… but somehow, I got it into my head that I could only press it every hour. Needless to say the next 6 hours before my wonderful night nurse came in and set me straight, were rather uncomfortable. After that though... aaahhh... mmmmmmmmmmmmorphine :-)
The IV came out around 10am the next morning because a physical therapist was coming to get me "up on my feet". I wasn't sure I still had feet. My nurse gave me a bunch of towels, some soap, a disposable toothbrush, some toothpaste and a plastic bowl of warm water so I could clean up as best as I could without disturbing the tube things that were still in my hands. I ended up drenching the bed, which, I think was the plan. That way I'd be more receptive to getting out of bed so they could change the sheets while I was up. With the help of an all-too-perky PT nurse, (who reminded me that I still indeed had feet by having me stretch them in various directions), I hauled my useless legs over the side of the bed and put my feet on the floor. Not fun. Even less fun trying to move those legs while clutching a walker, but I managed to make some dopey joke about how come my walker didn't have tennis balls in front... I've never felt so disgusting and helpless in my life. I made it halfway across the room to the chair where Miss Perky helped me sit down, said that was enough for today and disappeared. I was supposed to stay in the chair for 20 - 30 minutes. 15 minutes... they change my bedding... 35 minutes... 40 minutes... tick tick tick. My hip is really hurting now. The guy who changed the sheets left my call button thingy across the room. Ow ow owwwww! I'm getting a little freaked now. I try a tentative Hello..? Nothing. A few more minutes. Hello..??! Is anybody out there?? The Perky one pokes her head around the corner of my room and I just lost it. My leg hurts so much and I can't call the nurse... Can I just lie down? I burst into tears as she and my nurse help me into the bed. I was hysterical. Crying and apologizine. My nurse was very nice. She told me that it was just everything finally getting to me. Maybe she was right. I slept 'til Brian came in sometime that afternoon.
Bla. Bla. Bla. Another day in the hospital. The food is nasty. I learned to love oxycodone, how to use crutches and how to get on and off the toilet. Can I take a shower? No. Can I pleeease take a shower? No. Sigh. By that afternoon, I was still cold and my blood pressure was still low. My doctor decided to give me another unit of blood (good thing they left those tubes in my hands, huh?). But, he says, if everything looks ok the following morning I'll be able to go home! Can I take shower? No.
Wednesday morning. I wake up and cannot take one more moment of wearing that hospital gown, so before my breakfast comes creeping in the door, I get up, and find my pj's and lurch into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth and get "dressed". Ah. That's a bit better. After breakfast the nurse comes in with my pain meds and is surprised to see me not looking like an old hairball. I try one more time. Can I take a shower?? Um... Let me ask the surgeon. Wait. Wait. Wait. Ok. As long as you keep the incision dry. I'm going to go find you some plastic wrap. Wooo Hoooo!!
Believe me... no shower -- not even the one I took after my daughter was born -- ever felt so good!!! By the time my surgeon comes to see me, I'm dressed and ready to sprint out of the room. Ok... "sprint" might be a bit of an exaggeration... but he tells me that I can go home, after my appointment with the physical therapist, and I was on the phone to Brian before he was out of the room.
Two hours later a beautiful little redhead pokes her head around the door... Mimi!! There you are! I looked and looked for you!
That's only the beginning of the saga. The five weeks since then have been a whole other adventure... which I might find a minute to write about... someday. I've gone from crutches to cane and hope to be free of that by next week. Stairs (especially subway stairs) are still a menace. Kassia is all too aware that I can't chase her. Grrr. But I'm getting faster every day. Boy is she going to be surprised when I can finally catch her!
I got up at 4a.m. on Monday, Jun 18, got dressed and called a cab to take me to the hospital. Brian stayed at home so that he could take Kassia to daycare later in the morning. I know it sounds terribly melodramatic, especially in hindsight, but I admit I was terrified. It was a beautiful morning and walking into the basement surgery intake area was like walking into a tomb. (Ok. Melodrama over.)
I went through the whole triage thing, after which I got to sit on a cold metal chair in my oh-so-fashionable hospital gown with unshaven legs (I wasn’t allowed to shave anything for a week before the surgery… ewww.) for about 30 minutes before they finally called me in. Thus far, I was unimpressed. Anyway, they loaded me onto a gurney and started a barrage of medical history questions – all of which I had answered about a hundred times already over the course of the preceding few weeks. I was very nervous. I remember hearing myself making the same really stupid jokes over and over with each new nurse who came over. Finally the surgeon arrived and we went through the medical history questions again. Then he wrote his initials on my right hip with a purple magic marker… so he wouldn’t forget which one to replace…! AAAAAK! He told me not to worry; that this was going to be “a breeze”. Then the anesthesiologist came over with a couple of nurses to start an IV. They tried my arm. Couldn’t find a vein. They tried my wrist. Couldn’t find a vein. They tried my arm again. Still no vein. Then the first nurse gave up and the 2nd one went for the back of my hand. Owwwwwwwwww!! “I’ve almost got it… I can feel it rolling around.” I almost puked. Finally, she gave up and got the anesthesiologist to do it. Again in the hand.
I don’t remember much after she turned on the IV. I sort of remember being wheeled toward the door, but that memory could be mixed up with the next memory I have which was waking up.
Oh. My. God. It freakin’ HURT. I was barely conscious and faces were everywhere asking me if I knew who where I was. All I could think was “Will you all please just shut up!?” but talking was really hard. I kept trying to ask if somebody would please put a pillow under my knee because lying flat was like being stretched on a rack. You’d have thought I’d asked for a direct line to the President. They spent an eternity trying to decide if this was a good idea or not. C’mon folks… you just ripped my leg out of its socket, sawed off the top, replaced it with a ceramic/silicone/titanium contraption, popped it back in and you’re wondering if a pillow is going to do me any harm??? Hello??!!!! Finally, some compassionate nurse gave me the pillow. I remember asking if Brian were there; then I remember being wheeled through the hallway and hearing somebody calling him. The lights seemed unbelievably bright. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up in my room.
Brian was there holding my hand. I was cold. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold. My teeth were chattering like a room full of typists. I know Brian was talking to me, but I kept dropping off. The surgery had been at 8am. I wasn’t really aware of the time again until around 4pm. I guess that’s when the anesthesia finally wore off – mostly. I was still shivering. Then somebody else came in to say that they were going to give me a unit of blood because my temperature and blood pressure were still too low. Brian left not too long after that. He had to go pick up Kassia at daycare. I didn’t really mind. All I wanted to do was sleep.
Somebody came in to tell me how to use the morphine button, but I guess I wasn’t paying very good attention. They said I could press the button every 10 minutes as needed… but somehow, I got it into my head that I could only press it every hour. Needless to say the next 6 hours before my wonderful night nurse came in and set me straight, were rather uncomfortable. After that though... aaahhh... mmmmmmmmmmmmorphine :-)
The IV came out around 10am the next morning because a physical therapist was coming to get me "up on my feet". I wasn't sure I still had feet. My nurse gave me a bunch of towels, some soap, a disposable toothbrush, some toothpaste and a plastic bowl of warm water so I could clean up as best as I could without disturbing the tube things that were still in my hands. I ended up drenching the bed, which, I think was the plan. That way I'd be more receptive to getting out of bed so they could change the sheets while I was up. With the help of an all-too-perky PT nurse, (who reminded me that I still indeed had feet by having me stretch them in various directions), I hauled my useless legs over the side of the bed and put my feet on the floor. Not fun. Even less fun trying to move those legs while clutching a walker, but I managed to make some dopey joke about how come my walker didn't have tennis balls in front... I've never felt so disgusting and helpless in my life. I made it halfway across the room to the chair where Miss Perky helped me sit down, said that was enough for today and disappeared. I was supposed to stay in the chair for 20 - 30 minutes. 15 minutes... they change my bedding... 35 minutes... 40 minutes... tick tick tick. My hip is really hurting now. The guy who changed the sheets left my call button thingy across the room. Ow ow owwwww! I'm getting a little freaked now. I try a tentative Hello..? Nothing. A few more minutes. Hello..??! Is anybody out there?? The Perky one pokes her head around the corner of my room and I just lost it. My leg hurts so much and I can't call the nurse... Can I just lie down? I burst into tears as she and my nurse help me into the bed. I was hysterical. Crying and apologizine. My nurse was very nice. She told me that it was just everything finally getting to me. Maybe she was right. I slept 'til Brian came in sometime that afternoon.
Bla. Bla. Bla. Another day in the hospital. The food is nasty. I learned to love oxycodone, how to use crutches and how to get on and off the toilet. Can I take a shower? No. Can I pleeease take a shower? No. Sigh. By that afternoon, I was still cold and my blood pressure was still low. My doctor decided to give me another unit of blood (good thing they left those tubes in my hands, huh?). But, he says, if everything looks ok the following morning I'll be able to go home! Can I take shower? No.
Wednesday morning. I wake up and cannot take one more moment of wearing that hospital gown, so before my breakfast comes creeping in the door, I get up, and find my pj's and lurch into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth and get "dressed". Ah. That's a bit better. After breakfast the nurse comes in with my pain meds and is surprised to see me not looking like an old hairball. I try one more time. Can I take a shower?? Um... Let me ask the surgeon. Wait. Wait. Wait. Ok. As long as you keep the incision dry. I'm going to go find you some plastic wrap. Wooo Hoooo!!
Believe me... no shower -- not even the one I took after my daughter was born -- ever felt so good!!! By the time my surgeon comes to see me, I'm dressed and ready to sprint out of the room. Ok... "sprint" might be a bit of an exaggeration... but he tells me that I can go home, after my appointment with the physical therapist, and I was on the phone to Brian before he was out of the room.
Two hours later a beautiful little redhead pokes her head around the door... Mimi!! There you are! I looked and looked for you!
That's only the beginning of the saga. The five weeks since then have been a whole other adventure... which I might find a minute to write about... someday. I've gone from crutches to cane and hope to be free of that by next week. Stairs (especially subway stairs) are still a menace. Kassia is all too aware that I can't chase her. Grrr. But I'm getting faster every day. Boy is she going to be surprised when I can finally catch her!
Friday, June 15, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Don't See Me!
That's what Kassia says when she wants you to leave her alone. Usually this occurs when she's going to hide somewhere to do poops... But I digress.
My brain is in useless mode, which is never good, but especially bad right now as it's my last week before I have hip replacement surgery on Monday and I have a terrifying amount of work to get done before Friday. For anyone who reads my too-infrequent journal entries, that's why they've become even more infrequent lately. I just can't concentrate. All I can think about is the operation. I'm afraid of the whole thing. The pain, the indignity -- all of it. I'm afraid that my daughter won't understand why Mimi can't pick her up or play with her for a while and I'm afraid I'll hurt myself by trying to do too much too soon. I'm afraid my husband will have too much on his plate while I'm laid up. I'm afraid my boss will call every day wondering when I'll be well enough to work from home. Mostly I'm afraid that needing this operation in the first place means that I really am old.
Maybe that's the crux of the matter right there.
I still have so much to do before I can let myself get old. I have to stay in one piece until Kassia can take care of herself, but I can't remember what it feels like to have the kind of energy it takes to do all that. I wish I wasn't so tired.I know I have to think positively. But that takes energy too.
Ok. Moan over.
PS - For the curious... here's what they're doing http://www.zimmer.com/z/ctl/op/global/action/1/id/528/template/PC/navid/127
My brain is in useless mode, which is never good, but especially bad right now as it's my last week before I have hip replacement surgery on Monday and I have a terrifying amount of work to get done before Friday. For anyone who reads my too-infrequent journal entries, that's why they've become even more infrequent lately. I just can't concentrate. All I can think about is the operation. I'm afraid of the whole thing. The pain, the indignity -- all of it. I'm afraid that my daughter won't understand why Mimi can't pick her up or play with her for a while and I'm afraid I'll hurt myself by trying to do too much too soon. I'm afraid my husband will have too much on his plate while I'm laid up. I'm afraid my boss will call every day wondering when I'll be well enough to work from home. Mostly I'm afraid that needing this operation in the first place means that I really am old.
Maybe that's the crux of the matter right there.
I still have so much to do before I can let myself get old. I have to stay in one piece until Kassia can take care of herself, but I can't remember what it feels like to have the kind of energy it takes to do all that. I wish I wasn't so tired.I know I have to think positively. But that takes energy too.
Ok. Moan over.
PS - For the curious... here's what they're doing http://www.zimmer.com/z/ctl/op/global/action/1/id/528/template/PC/navid/127
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
29 Things About Me
(Why do we never get sick of these things..? )
- Q. Can you cook?
A. I can cook... Do I cook?... only if inspiration or necessity strikes. - Q. What was your dream growing up?
A. At age 6 I wanted to be an archaeologist. At age 12 I wanted to be a lawyer. At age 18 I wanted to be an actor. I should have stuck with archaeology. - Q. What talent do you wish you had?
A. Writing (...really writing) - Q. Favorite place?
A. hmmm... Paris or DisneyWorld... I can't decide! - Q. Favorite vegetable?
A. asparagus - Q. What was the last book you read?
A. Just started Richard Powers' Operation Wandering Soul but I don't know if I'm going to be able to finish it... it's really upsetting. - Q. What zodiac sign are you?
A. Pisces on the cusp of Aquarius with Leo rising
Q. Any tattoo's or piercings?
A. no - Q. Worst habit?
A. procrastination - Q. What is your favorite sport?
A. "favorite sport"? No such thing. "least annoying sport"? Probably soccer. - Q. Negative or optimistic outlook?
A. Disappointed optimist... - Q. Worst thing to ever happen to you?A. My dad died suddenly; there was no time to say goodbye.
- Q. Tell me one weird fact about you?
A. I'm 41 years old (no, that's not the weird part!). Since I left my parents house at 18, I have had 20 addresses. In August, we will have lived here for 3 years -- my longest time at any address in all that time! - Q. Do you have any pets?
A. Had a black & white (cow-colored) cat named Stinky Bumford before I got married. He was awesome. - Q. What time is it where you are now?A. 7:50 a.m. EST
- Q. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
A. pointless (except for Cirque du Soleil clowns who, on occasion, crack me up!) - Q. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?
A. Now that depends entirely on the crime! (Seriously though, I'm more likely to be the conscience...) - Q. What color eyes do you have?
A. Hazel. - Q. Ever been arrested?
A. no - Q. Bottle or draft?
A. Beer. eew. - Q. If you won $100,000.00 today what would you do with it?
A. omg -- downpayment on a house out of the city! - Q. What is your favorite drink?
A. Hard drink -- cosmopolitan; soft drink Hansen's soda - Q. Where's your favorite place to hang out besides your house?
A. I work full time and have a two year old. "Hanging out" is a distant memory. - Q. Do you believe in ghosts?
A. no, but I'm open to persuasion - Q. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
A. see #22 - Q. Biggest pet Peeve?
A. snap judgements. especially negative ones. - Q. Do you swear a lot?
A. I used to; not nearly as much any more - Q. In one word how would you describe yourself?
A. Perceptive - Q. What's your favorite color?
A. most shades of green; pretty much any color that appears in nature. Flourescent colors scare me. - Q. Do you go to church?
A. no. Was raised Catholic. Now I'm a confirmed agnostic.
Thump
We have wood floors... there was lots of "thumping" going on this weekend...
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump... Kassia realized that she could actually leave her room in the morning without someone coming to get her... Peeking at her through my eyelashes (her head just level with the bed), trying to pretend I was still asleep, failing miserably because I couldn't keep from laughing when I saw the "Huh? I didn't know Mommy actually sleeps!" look on her face.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump... "Happy Mudda's Day, Mimi!"
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump... "I don't wanna take a bath anymore..! ...oooh, bubbles!"
Monday, May 7, 2007
Funny Girl Part Deux
I.We were at my sister's house recently, and at one point during dinner my husband asked Kassia "Kassia, is Mimi beautiful?" She gave him a look of pure disbelief, then grinned and with the most dramatic tone immaginable said "No... I am beautiful!
II.
Kassia (seeing a very tall girl): Look! a long girl!
Daddy: That's right! Do you know another word for "long"? (hoping to get "tall")
Kassia: "Woman!"
III.
We spent an afternoon at Boston's Museum of Fine Arts, and Kassia was very interested in the ancient arts galleries. She especially liked a wrapped mummy... when she saw it she said "Look! That doll has an Ookie on her head!"
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Waiting
There are moments that stick in your memory although at the time they are not monumental; are hardly worth remembering. But even years later they are clear and sharp to the tiniest detail.
I remember where I was, but I'm not sure why. Audition? Rehearsal? Class? Rehearsal, I think. I don't think I had a very big part. I remember sitting in the old fashioned deep window box. Peeling institutional green paint. Margins of the panes permanently clouded with ancient grime ground into the glass. I remember the smell of the place. Old books, chalk dust, stale cigarette smoke. And I remember that it was quieter than it should have been given that there were so many people in the various rooms on that floor reading scenes, rehearsing in corners, pacing the black and white linoleum tile floor, gossiping, philosophizing. Or maybe it just seemed quieter. What I remember most is the view from those windows: a study in grey and brown and black. Rooftops in the Back Bay on a rainy late fall afternoon.
It was a Sunday. It was 20 years ago, but I'm sure it was a Sunday.
I was very young and I was waiting for my life to begin. I can still remember exactly how that felt... impatient, but resigned to waiting.
After all that's happened in the years since, somehow I still feel that way.
I remember where I was, but I'm not sure why. Audition? Rehearsal? Class? Rehearsal, I think. I don't think I had a very big part. I remember sitting in the old fashioned deep window box. Peeling institutional green paint. Margins of the panes permanently clouded with ancient grime ground into the glass. I remember the smell of the place. Old books, chalk dust, stale cigarette smoke. And I remember that it was quieter than it should have been given that there were so many people in the various rooms on that floor reading scenes, rehearsing in corners, pacing the black and white linoleum tile floor, gossiping, philosophizing. Or maybe it just seemed quieter. What I remember most is the view from those windows: a study in grey and brown and black. Rooftops in the Back Bay on a rainy late fall afternoon.
It was a Sunday. It was 20 years ago, but I'm sure it was a Sunday.
I was very young and I was waiting for my life to begin. I can still remember exactly how that felt... impatient, but resigned to waiting.
After all that's happened in the years since, somehow I still feel that way.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
No monsters there to see you...
We were driving home from Easter dinner at my sister's house. It's a 2 hour ride, and Kassia has never been one of those kids who fall asleep as soon as the car starts rolling. This time, though, she took a little nap, and had a new book to look at, and overall did really well.
As we (finally) got off the highway, Kassia started to talk to her "Ookie"... the way I might talk to her if she were upset.
"It's ok" she said, "Kassia's there... No worries... no monsters there to see you..."
She went on like that in a tiny voice for a minute and then I turned around. She was holding Ookie against her chest with her head resting on Ookie's head, staring out the window with a very concerned expression. She looked at me and I smiled at her.
She said "I talking to Ookie."
"You're a very good friend to Ookie", I said. "Does he feel better?"
She nodded and when I turned back around she started to talk again "No worries... no monsters there to see you..."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I did both.
As we (finally) got off the highway, Kassia started to talk to her "Ookie"... the way I might talk to her if she were upset.
"It's ok" she said, "Kassia's there... No worries... no monsters there to see you..."
She went on like that in a tiny voice for a minute and then I turned around. She was holding Ookie against her chest with her head resting on Ookie's head, staring out the window with a very concerned expression. She looked at me and I smiled at her.
She said "I talking to Ookie."
"You're a very good friend to Ookie", I said. "Does he feel better?"
She nodded and when I turned back around she started to talk again "No worries... no monsters there to see you..."
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I did both.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
I need; I want...
...in no particular order:
- A day off. I think if I can have this one, I can wait on all the others. I haven't had a whole day off since before my daughter was born. (That's two years ago...) A couple of times (2? 3?) my husband and I took a day off together which is nice... but not really a day off. I just need a whole day to myself.
- Brian's green card to come through. They've been making us jump through hoops for almost 3 years. He's a nice, gainfully employed, tax-paying boy from Ireland with a wife, child and house -- enough is enough already!
- For us to move out of the city... or at least far enough out of the city that our daughter can have a yard to play in. Parks are nice, but not quite the same. I want to hear crickets at night -- not college students partying (boy am I getting OLD -- lol!). It would be really nice to be closer to my family too. Obviously, this one depends on #2...
- To come up with more options for dinner that all three of us will eat.
- A new job. It was always a small company; now it's microscopic. I'm doing the work of whole teams of developers. Too much pressure. Too much stress. My hands hurt.
- To have hip-replacement surgery (arthritis at 41, soooo not cool). I'm already scheduled for this, but I have to wait 'til June. I also need to know that Kassia will understand why Mommy can't pick her up for 4 weeks or so. My heart breaks every time I think about it.
- To go camping again. Soon. Maybe this summer with Kassia???
- To do more travelling... before I get too old.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Brunch
There’s a new(ish) café in town. It’s called Eye-something… or I-something; I can’t remember. Supposedly it’s very hip and trendy with the local college crowd.
Hear that? That’s the first set of warning bells ringing… Brian and I, no matter how cool we are at 40-something, are no longer part of the aforementioned hip, trendy, college crowd. Neither, at this tender point in her youth is Kassia.
Brian, however, has been pestering me to go to this place ever since it opened, and this past Sunday he decided it would be the perfect place for family brunch. Ok. Granted, I haven’t actually been there. For all I know it might actually be the coolest place in S-ville! Still, with its reputation of overstuffed beaded chairs, dim lighting and students huddled over the glow of their laptops… well, it just didn’t seem to be the sort of place that would take kindly to our very energetic 2-year-old.
When he emerged from the bathroom that morning, proclaiming his grand idea, Brian was in his hipster best: inky dark green cords, black T… (hmmm… it looks better than it sounds.) I, on the other hand, looked a bit like an LL Bean catalog that somebody fished out of the trash. No-nonsense, flannel & jeans -- not cool, ripped flannel, either – I looked like somebody’s mom. Which, of course, I am!
Let me stop here and say that I, personally, would love to spend an evening with coffee and grownup conversation in this place! I’ve still got a few black t-shirts! (hmph.) As much as I adore our daughter, not a day goes by that I don’t long for those walks through the North End or Beacon Hill and late dinners that lasted ‘til midnight. However… there are simply some things that don’t work with a toddler, and even if you do manage to get away with trying them (meaning you escape with your dinner consumed and without a major meltdown), the experience just isn’t the same. ..And wishing they would work just won’t make it so…
I wish Brian would come to understand that. It’s so much better to just be in whatever moment you’re in without trying to make it into something it’s not. It makes me sad that he’s so discontented. It makes me even sadder to know that someday he will be looking back at these moments and wishing he were still in them.
I suppose I ought to get to the part that makes me sound less Zen and well-adjusted… Back to the bathroom door.
When he ever suggested going to that café… again… my defenses snapped up. Oh for Christ’s sake! Can’t you just grow up so we can go have breakfast?? I know I should have tried to be more receptive to the idea, but I just couldn't, so I made a big, cranky, passive-aggressive show of "Sure, honey, whatever you want." and that set the tone for the rest of the weekend. Yuck.
The final irony was that the damn place wasn't even open for brunch! We then tramped all over town, with Brian getting crankier and crankier and me getting sadder and sadder. We ended up just getting a coffee/muffin in a little coffee shop. Kassia knew something was up... she was very, very good. Which made me even sadder.
Of all the things I've had to learn these past two years, I think the balancing act has been the hardest... and the one I screw up most often. Being a mom takes up soooo much of my mind and energy that I'm afraid I neglect the rest of my life.
Hear that? That’s the first set of warning bells ringing… Brian and I, no matter how cool we are at 40-something, are no longer part of the aforementioned hip, trendy, college crowd. Neither, at this tender point in her youth is Kassia.
Brian, however, has been pestering me to go to this place ever since it opened, and this past Sunday he decided it would be the perfect place for family brunch. Ok. Granted, I haven’t actually been there. For all I know it might actually be the coolest place in S-ville! Still, with its reputation of overstuffed beaded chairs, dim lighting and students huddled over the glow of their laptops… well, it just didn’t seem to be the sort of place that would take kindly to our very energetic 2-year-old.
When he emerged from the bathroom that morning, proclaiming his grand idea, Brian was in his hipster best: inky dark green cords, black T… (hmmm… it looks better than it sounds.) I, on the other hand, looked a bit like an LL Bean catalog that somebody fished out of the trash. No-nonsense, flannel & jeans -- not cool, ripped flannel, either – I looked like somebody’s mom. Which, of course, I am!
Let me stop here and say that I, personally, would love to spend an evening with coffee and grownup conversation in this place! I’ve still got a few black t-shirts! (hmph.) As much as I adore our daughter, not a day goes by that I don’t long for those walks through the North End or Beacon Hill and late dinners that lasted ‘til midnight. However… there are simply some things that don’t work with a toddler, and even if you do manage to get away with trying them (meaning you escape with your dinner consumed and without a major meltdown), the experience just isn’t the same. ..And wishing they would work just won’t make it so…
I wish Brian would come to understand that. It’s so much better to just be in whatever moment you’re in without trying to make it into something it’s not. It makes me sad that he’s so discontented. It makes me even sadder to know that someday he will be looking back at these moments and wishing he were still in them.
I suppose I ought to get to the part that makes me sound less Zen and well-adjusted… Back to the bathroom door.
When he ever suggested going to that café… again… my defenses snapped up. Oh for Christ’s sake! Can’t you just grow up so we can go have breakfast?? I know I should have tried to be more receptive to the idea, but I just couldn't, so I made a big, cranky, passive-aggressive show of "Sure, honey, whatever you want." and that set the tone for the rest of the weekend. Yuck.
The final irony was that the damn place wasn't even open for brunch! We then tramped all over town, with Brian getting crankier and crankier and me getting sadder and sadder. We ended up just getting a coffee/muffin in a little coffee shop. Kassia knew something was up... she was very, very good. Which made me even sadder.
Of all the things I've had to learn these past two years, I think the balancing act has been the hardest... and the one I screw up most often. Being a mom takes up soooo much of my mind and energy that I'm afraid I neglect the rest of my life.
Friday, March 16, 2007
7.25 and not even on the train yet. I should be getting my coffee by now. I can hardly believe that i'm the same person who used to take the 6.10 train every morning. My life was scheduled to the minute... And it was easy!!! Sometimes so easy it was boring... Heavy. My life is still scheduled to the minute; but it's definitely not easy anymore. I'm not busy anymore; i'm buried. More tasks in a day than minutes. Sometimes I crave those utterly predictable, surprise-free, strangely comforting days when my life was simply mine, and if I missed a deadline, chances were i'd be the only one to suffer for it.
7.38 and i'm crossing the river. Summoning my strength for the sprint upstairs to the green line.
3.52. On my way home early because of the snow. Enough extra time to dig out the car and shovel the steps before I go to pick up Kassia.
I'm tired. I need to escape... Just for a day. I haven't had a whole day off since Kassia was born. If everything didn't hurt so much, it might be interesting to see how long I can go before I crack.
7.38 and i'm crossing the river. Summoning my strength for the sprint upstairs to the green line.
3.52. On my way home early because of the snow. Enough extra time to dig out the car and shovel the steps before I go to pick up Kassia.
I'm tired. I need to escape... Just for a day. I haven't had a whole day off since Kassia was born. If everything didn't hurt so much, it might be interesting to see how long I can go before I crack.
Friday, March 9, 2007
What a world
At 5:00 a.m. I was awakened by a klunk and a scream. Kassia fell out of bed (even with the safety rail!). It was the first time she's done this, and let me tell you, she did it right... a swan dive straight down on her face. Lots of blood, but no serious injuries -- just two fat lips. The teeth are all there. Sigh.
Needless to say, the morning routine went into a tailspin, but by 8:00 everybody was up, clean, dressed and relatively happy... and since most of my vacation time is already committed to those days when our daycare provider is on vacation or whatever... I had to make the decision to take her to daycare and go to work as usual. She did not want to go. "You stay me!" It just kills me.
Once she got to daycare, she was fine and ran off to play with J., but I still cried all the way to work.Why "what a world"? Because it seems like a miserable world we've made for ourselves... ok... I've made for myself... where I have to decide if a situation is "serious enough" to warrant taking a day off of work, and if I do, knowing that I'll have to pay a price for it later. It's not fair.
Needless to say, the morning routine went into a tailspin, but by 8:00 everybody was up, clean, dressed and relatively happy... and since most of my vacation time is already committed to those days when our daycare provider is on vacation or whatever... I had to make the decision to take her to daycare and go to work as usual. She did not want to go. "You stay me!" It just kills me.
Once she got to daycare, she was fine and ran off to play with J., but I still cried all the way to work.Why "what a world"? Because it seems like a miserable world we've made for ourselves... ok... I've made for myself... where I have to decide if a situation is "serious enough" to warrant taking a day off of work, and if I do, knowing that I'll have to pay a price for it later. It's not fair.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Spring Springing
It was finally warm enough to do something OUTSIDE last weekend, so we went so see some of the baby animals at D. Farm. Of course it was back to the deep freeze again yesterday and today, but it was nice to remember what the sun feels like!!I think Kassia had more fun playing in the mud and melting snow than looking at the animals, but that's ok. She loves the big old mule though :-) She wanted to go over the fence to hug him (!), but had to make do with petting his nose over the top of the fence instead.
We might actually get to 67 next week -- wooo hoooo!!
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Acts of Faith
I had that very disturbing conversation with my mother again the other day... It's the conversation that starts off amiable enough but quickly sinks the topic of religion (or lack thereof). From there, we proceed to teary acts of contrition where she apologizes for having "failed" me as a mother, and finally we hit the rocky bottom where she plays evangelist, and I try not to hurt her feelings while I debate her as to the merits of her faith.
We were raised Catholic and Mom is still very devout. I just don't believe it any more. The only thing I believe now is that religion (name your denomination) is the single most destructive force in the world. As for Christianity in general and Catholicism in specific, the myth just doesn't bear up under the weight of historical evidence. (I mean, really... the church fathers didn't even come to a decision on whether they believed that Jesus was Divine until the 4th or 5th century..!) When you add in the elitist, discriminatory aspects... well, I just don't see anything worth having in religion (moral compass, sense of community, etc.), that can't be had elsewhere. Everybody thinks they have the answers. Nobody has the answers. It's all wishful thinking at best and power-driven propaganda at worst.
The real subject of that discussion with Mom was my daughter. She's absolutely frantic that Kassia's not baptized; desolate that she won't make her first Communion at 7. If Kassia wants to pursue a faith when she's an adult, that's fine with me. I will support her in any decision she makes. But I intend to make very sure that she knows all the options before deciding to believe in one. That's not going to be easy. We don't live in a society that responds very well to "I just don't know." in matters of faith.
What I believe is that I am doing the right thing for my daughter. That's going to have to be enough for Mom.
We were raised Catholic and Mom is still very devout. I just don't believe it any more. The only thing I believe now is that religion (name your denomination) is the single most destructive force in the world. As for Christianity in general and Catholicism in specific, the myth just doesn't bear up under the weight of historical evidence. (I mean, really... the church fathers didn't even come to a decision on whether they believed that Jesus was Divine until the 4th or 5th century..!) When you add in the elitist, discriminatory aspects... well, I just don't see anything worth having in religion (moral compass, sense of community, etc.), that can't be had elsewhere. Everybody thinks they have the answers. Nobody has the answers. It's all wishful thinking at best and power-driven propaganda at worst.
The real subject of that discussion with Mom was my daughter. She's absolutely frantic that Kassia's not baptized; desolate that she won't make her first Communion at 7. If Kassia wants to pursue a faith when she's an adult, that's fine with me. I will support her in any decision she makes. But I intend to make very sure that she knows all the options before deciding to believe in one. That's not going to be easy. We don't live in a society that responds very well to "I just don't know." in matters of faith.
What I believe is that I am doing the right thing for my daughter. That's going to have to be enough for Mom.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Funny Girl
- J, another little girl in Kassia's daycare bumped her head on a table. The teacher was rubbing J's head, but J said "No, want Kassia to do it!" Whereupon, Kassia went over and kissed the table!
- Daycare teacher: "Kassia, don't wipe your nose on your sleeve."
Kassia: [wipes her nose on the teacher's sleeve] - Daycare teacher: "Kassia , don't put the toy in your mouth."
Kassia: [sticks the toy up her nose]
Thursday, February 22, 2007
First? Post
Ok... this is about the millionth time I've started a blog. Somehow, getting past the introductions intimidates me, so I'm just going to jump right in.
Wait.
That was an introduction, wasn't it...
ANYWAY.
It's getting colder tonight; we might get some snow. (yipee.)
We're back on the virus-go-round. First I had it, then Kassia had it, then Brian had it, now Kassia's got it again (or is it a new one??)... I'm just waiting for it to come back to me. The house sounds like a TB ward from September to June.
Brian's right... it's late and I should get some sleep. Sorry for the lame post. Hopefully I'll get better at this...
Wait.
That was an introduction, wasn't it...
ANYWAY.
It's getting colder tonight; we might get some snow. (yipee.)
We're back on the virus-go-round. First I had it, then Kassia had it, then Brian had it, now Kassia's got it again (or is it a new one??)... I'm just waiting for it to come back to me. The house sounds like a TB ward from September to June.
Brian's right... it's late and I should get some sleep. Sorry for the lame post. Hopefully I'll get better at this...
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