Writing From The Gut

This may read odd, but that's never stopped me before.

Last night, the voices in my head kept me awake.

Now, when I write "voices in my head", I don't mean that I've literally heard or imagine to hear real voices. I'll admit that I'm sometimes nuts but geez, I'm not crazy. I mean the various lists ... with titles like "to do" and "should do" and "will do" and "yeah, we'll see if I do" and "bwahahaha - fat chance that I'll do" and "I'm just clearly nevvvvver gonna do".

I started mentally thumbing through these lists early in the evening and, sensing that I'd be thinking myself sleepless, I loaded a nameless romantic comedy DVD on the player (starring any combo of Julia Roberts, Hugh Grant, Meg Ryan, Richard Gere, Sandra Bullock, and/or Tom Hanks) and tried my best to put down the imaginary pencil that was editing, erasing, adding, and underlining various entries I had.

But there's always one, isn't there?

There was one entry that just wouldn't be adjusted, moved, or otherwise touched. "You've been pretty good about writing, both in your 'blob'" (which is how I refer to this ... this ... uhhhh well whatever THIS is) "and in your personal journal. You probably owe it to yourself to try to do a wrap up sort of thing in both, to tie up the year."

"Sure," I mused with me. "Sure, I can scribble out a few funny little paragraphs that encapsulate the past 365 days. No sweat - because heck it's not like anything life-changing happened to me in 2009. It's not like I continued to fight through hell, quite literally, for my health. It's not like I changed careers into an as-yet undefined position in an as-yet unknown corporation. It's not like I voluntarily moved my entire existence to totally unfamiliar territory. It's not like, after 41 years of chancing my heart with various undeserving cheaters, liars, and slime balls, it's not like I finally found the man who is the love of my life and who will be, if I indeed AM the luckiest son of a bitch on this planet, the last person I see for the rest of my nights and the first I see for the rest of my mornings. I can write that all out in something short and meaningful - no problem. How about 'Here's to 2010 - change, schmange ... give me your best shot!'"

So it's safe to say that (1) I got pretty much NO sleep last night and (b) I am, thus far, undecided on the whole "2009 wrap up" post here. Having just glanced at last years Dec 31 entry, I see I offered a toast, in which I wished that 2009 have characteristics typically associated with a raspberry shortbread tart. I dunno if I should refer to a cookbook for inspiration for a potential blob post, as it seems to me that could possibly invite flavors like "bitter" and "spicy" ... and those may be undesired.

On the other hand, as it turns out, I really, really, really enjoyed the raspberry shortbread tart.

How Santa Will Know Where I Am

Maybe he'll recognize that I've moved homes because of the new decorations and the phrases written on them, placed above ornaments I've had for a few years.








Maybe he'll remember my ol' pal, Woody, who has been with me for more than three decades.






Or my sleeping mouse, dreaming of Santa's visit ...






Or my chorus mouse angel, waiting to play her horn ...





Damn. I wish I could be sure, 'tho.










If only there were SOME way I could make sure Santa would know where I was ...

A Visit By St. Nick

The Awesome Boyfriend came over last night and we were in the process of getting dinner together when the sirens began. They were loud - and sounded close. My first thought was what I typically think when I hear sirens - "awwwww damn. Someone's day just got crappy." The Awesome Boyfriend waited for a second, and then bolted to the front door, saying "Come over here, Hunny - it's Santa!"

I can't remember Santa ever visiting my sister and I at home when we were growing up, 'tho there's a photo of this happening once. I've been told that I was in awe of our great luck, to have such a visit (and to have him deliver, in person, my most-desired gift ... a box turtle!) right up until my sister turned to my parents and asked "Why is Mr. Gundy dressed as Santa Claus?"

In my new home town, however, it seems it is a tradition for Santa to be escorted by Firefighters around different neighborhoods in the evenings as Christmas approaches. Santa sits on the back of a long firetruck decorated with lights as the sirens wail, and he waves to the homes he'll visit in a week or so.

We caught the last of the processional as it passed directly in front of my home, and walked back to the kitchen to finish arranging our plates. The sirens were still very near by and then, as I looked out the kitchen window, I saw the flashing emergency lights in the apartment complex behind my backyard. I raised the shade as high as it would go while The Awesome Boyfriend turned out the kitchen lights and stood directly behind me, holding me ... and we stood, in silence, while Santa was driven by as he greeted children and adults, who had gathered to watch and wave back.

After dinner, we adjusted the lights I'd placed earlier, and started decorating, being guided by the lights from the tree. We'll probably be decorating for the next few days, in fits and spurts, until we're both satisfied with our work. On our tree. Our first Christmas Tree.

See? Once again, Santa already delivered what I wanted the most.

A Letter To Santa

Dear St. Nick,

I wanted to thank you for looking out for me this past year. I have to believe that the events that largely made my 2009 was pretty much your doing.

I have to admit that I took some of your gifts for granted ... like the job, for instance. I don't know that I required employment but I appreciated it - just - for all the wrong reasons. I liked working in a building I was comfortable in and with friends I respected and knew well. I just wasn't all that inspired by the work itself and ... yes, it showed in my results, I know. I hope you're not too sore with my being relieved when my contract was done away with. Anyway, I wanted you to know that I don't regret those months. in fact, I really needed them - not financially but mentally.

The gift that I did NOT take for granted was the talented and dedicated group of medical types who helped in my health battle. Wow - ya' just did such a superb job in hand-selecting that team. Having such great brains and hearts steering my recovery took SUCH a weight from my shoulders. (And we both know that I don't share feelings of fright easily when it comes to personal matters but I gotta say - I was really shaken to my core by all that ... stuff. That you made sure to have such medical bad-asses looking over my shoulder to give me medical guidance was ... beyond humbling.)

And, speaking of great match-ups ... geez - where do I begin to thank you for the love, support, humor, patience, smarts, kind-heartedness, level-headedness, tolerance, warmth, strength and just general overall wonderfulness that IS the Awesome Boyfriend??? I mean - that you had the foresight to bring a friend deeper into my life when I didn't even know I needed one at all ... and to have him be such an amazing listener and to provide such great insight and be so calming and loving ... I just don't even know where to start. I love that you gave us - or me, at least - a foundation of first impressions to work from and to have me be just so very wrong about it. Ya' just cleared the slate right off the bat and made me start all over again and - *sigh* - it was just so inspired on your part, yanno? And sure, you've put a few things in our path that tested who we are as a couple but you made sure the hurdles were equally matched and didn't give us anything we wouldn't be able to work through, as long as we worked together. In fact, as you know, we've both wondered aloud what we could possibly have our first argument about. After all, it's been more than a year now and we've still not shared a harsh word. (We've even tested it - I made a crack about how whiny men can be and he shared the "Mad Cow" joke with me this weekend and all we could do was laugh! )

Santa, to top it off, as it turns out you provided me with the family that I've needed all along. Sure, there have been rough periods and we've gone our own ways at times but I wouldn't have been able to do the things I've done if not for my folks. And then - the additional family that you've brought into my life - father-figures and extended parent-types that have known me forever and co-workers that think of me as part of their clan. Really ... to be so significantly blessed is just mind-boggling.

So I guess this would be the part of the letter where I ask for stuff. And I realize that I'm not giving you a whole lot of notice, what with Christmas Eve being 10 days away. But, the thing is, what I need the most? Yeah, I already have it. I have support. I have health. I have passion. I have humor. I have friendships. I have laughter. I have safety. I have shelter. I have warmth. I have depth of feeling. I have memories. I have goals. I have plans. I have compassion. I have strength. I have love. The ONLY thing I'd ask of you is to pay attention to the needs and desires of those closest to me. I do what I can to provide what is needed, but I'd never refuse your help.

In short, Santa, thank you for all that you've done already. Don't worry about bringing anything for me with you when you stop by next week - just enjoy the cookies and hot chocolate, and give the reindeer time to graze and catch their breath for the rest of their journey.

A very grateful,

Jules



PS - I believe ... more now than ever.

In Which My Bathroom And I Spend Some Alone Time

My tolerance-level for small piles of papers and what-all is pretty high. I tend to file and toss in a frenzy about twice a month or less, depending on the amount of things to be filed ... or tossed. So I guess I didn't really notice the kitchen table had become a ... well ... not a mess really but yeah, kinda.

And sure - I got so frustrated with the doorknob replacement in the bathroom that I just stalled out and haven't bothered to do anything on it in a few weeks. And it's also true that I made a promise to myself to organize my two closets into "wear around the house" and "stash for warmer weather" boxes to be pulled out next year. This is ALL true.

But I found myself somewhat ... irked ... when these various projects were noticed by The Awesome Boyfriend. And let me be VERY clear - it was a MINOR mention - like "hey, so this isn't how this is always gonna look, right?" sort of thing. It was NOT critical at all. It was meant to be just a very gentle nudge to me - a reminder that I shouldn't lose my steam just yet.

(Have I qualified this enough yet?)

And, an hour or so later that evening, I'd already finished my closets. I was enjoying a small bit of smug satisfaction ... was envisioning a smattering of a smug "I told you so" moment the next day when The Awesome Boyfriend visited and, high on my success, I decided to chose one more "to do" before calling it a night. I chose the bathroom doorknob.

Here's the thing: Doorknobs, even non-locking ones, are wider in 2009 than the ones I am trying to replace. So it wasn't just "unlatch this one, slap a new one in". It was "redrill the hole, line up the new striker plate, widen the slip-slot for the inner workings of the latch, plug the old screw holes, redrill new holes, check to be sure the striker plate isn't set too far back. Plug the old striker plate holes and redrill new holes when it turns out the striker plate WOULD be too far back."

I will admit that I'm not gonna be showing up on any home repair reality shows soon. I will also admit that I'm handy enough around the home that I knew if I just took my time and really understood what I was doing that I'd get this done. I am walking proof that a little knowledge in something is a dangerous thing, but I figured that once I did one replacement, the rest would be a little easier. I started with the least necessary doorknob and decided that the last one I'd replace would be the front door. (After all, using a towel stuffed into the hole where the lock WOULD be probably wouldn't be a good idea for a front door, but it's worked just fine for the bathroom.)

So I grabbed my chisel and revisited the situation as I'd left it. I had already patched the areas I'd need solid for the new holes, so I just needed to place the striker plate in the right spot, close the door to see if the location was correct, slap in the inner workings, and ... basically ... pat myself on the back.

Imagine my surprise when things lined up on the very first try!! That satisfying "click" that translated as success. "Pish, that was just too damn easy! Time to insert the knobs on both sides and tighten things up", my smug self thought. I slipped my index finger and thumb around the top of the inner workings, slipped it back, and opened the door with no issue whatsoever.

(Those of you who read carefully may note that the "click" also translated into the door closing with my having NO means of opening the latch, except by using my fingers. I don't know why this didn't occur to me, but somehow it just didn't.)

The ONLY modification I noticed was that the striker plate could be inset just a tiny bit more. So I removed it and decided to leave the last bit of woodwork for the morning. I slept soundly, imagining NOT making a big deal about having a working doorknob when The Awesome Boyfriend visited the next day.

First thing in the morning, I popped outta bed, got dressed, grabbed my chisel and headed to the bathroom. I marked the striker with lipstick (a trick I picked up in Biloxi) and it indicated the areas I needed to remove by marking them red. As I was refining the setback space for the striker plate, my brain commented that it'd be funny if I did such a good job that I wouldn't be able to open the door once I tested it. My brain also flashed on "maybe you should get your phone, just in case" but ... my only excuse is that I hadn't yet had breakfast. I wasn't operating correctly or something.

"Click" went the inner workings, once again telling me I'd done a good job. "Time to put the striker plate back on", said my brain. "No problem", said my hands as I reached for the same sweet spot on the inner workings that I'd used just a few short hours before. And, after I fumbled for a few minutes, my hands said "well - ok - maybe a small problem".

I looked at the window in the bathroom. It's high up. And the ground outside is kinda far below - I'd likely at least twist my ankle. Plus, it's VERY small. So I wouldn't even get out of it in the first place. I glanced back at the door and loudly - with great satisfaction - I shouted an obscenity that would translate as "rooster slurper" on a family-friendly blog.

I had only my chisel to work with. The first thing I did was close the heater vent. It was likely that I'd have no problem keeping warm in such a space - I was already breaking into a sweat. I tried - with no success - to find the magic latch release with the chisel. I banged on it using the handle. I pounded on the door in frustration. I had no watch, no cell phone, and knew The Awesome Boyfriend wouldn't have reason to stop in before he'd leave for work (plus he'd likely already left anyway). And even if he DID somehow stop in, I'd have no way to walk him through what needed to be installed. (From the outside, the knob doesn't really control much. Especially if the inner workings were bent -which I'd very successfully done as I bashed on them in my anger.) I was, officially, locked inside of my bathroom.

The UPS guy rang the back doorbell. I flashed to a scene from Friends in which Phoebe, Ross and Carol, his ex-wife are all locked in a facilities closet in a hospital. Phoebe has her guitar with her and begins to sing "they found their bodies the very next day, they found their bodies the very ...".

"Well", I thought, "at least if I needed to take a nap, I could line the bathtub with towels and hey - if I needed to use the facilities or wanted to take a shower or a verrrrrrrry long bath, I'd be all set." I imagined telling the story to The Awesome Boyfriend and wondered if it'd be something I'd share with him from behind a door or face-to-face.

Two hours later ...

After I'd removed the pins in the upper and lower hinges (realizing that this would do me no good, as it didn't shrink the space between the door and the striker plate but it made me feel better to be doing SOMETHING), I'd chiseled enough away from the striker plate as to place the chisel in a manner that allowed me to withdraw the latch. The door swung open (and, of course, the top hinge gave way, since it wasn't connected any more) and my first reaction was to ... use the bathroom.

*****************

Today I will clean off the kitchen table.

There is no door between the kitchen and the living room.

There is a swinging door between the kitchen and the hallway to the back door so, because of that, I may keep my chisel and cell phone nearby ... yanno, just in case.

The Tuesday Update ...

in no particular order ...

This is my first holiday season not spent in the shade of the family tree. I thought this would be ... more emotional? ... but am happy to report that overall it's been alright.

Speaking of family, the news on my cousin Lisa (who was fighting things at the same time as her mom was, and as I was) is ... mixed. She's spent the last month and a half in ICU, having contacted pneumonia while her immune system was compromised. She's finally been moved from ICU into a private room but is still unable to breathe unassisted and is being kept in a pretty heavy drug-induced state. The wound from her procedure has finally showed signs of closing (ten months later) and the doctors believe she'll be in the hospital for a few more months in various stages of care. They won't discuss any real plans until she can breathe on her own. I feel ... guilt? I had it so easy and yet I still found reason to complain.

I spent close to two hours locked inside my own bathroom yesterday morning. I was all prepared to write about THAT today but the mood just doesn't seem right. It's a funny story that I'll share at some point and, while I come off looking like a complete and total moron in it, it's pretty typical for how I envision myself at times - filled with the best intentions and getting in my own way of success.

I won't admit this out loud (so don't ask) but the shakes I've been experiencing in my right arm are worrying me more than I show. And I know I should get a doctor's opinion but ... well ... actually, that should read "I know I should get a doctor's opinion" and then end with just ".". So I'll do that instead.

The reason that this isn't a "I spent 2 hours locked in my own bathroom and lived to write about it" post is from being so happy at The Awesome Boyfriend's news yesterday. Everything that seemed wrong or unfair or just plain sucky just ... went away.

I managed to make three sweet potato pies yesterday, for the first time in my life. I was overall pretty happy with the results. (I've also never microwaved a potato (sweet or otherwise). I SHOULD have been doing lots of other things besides baking (Christmas Cards come immediately to mind) but ... making pies worked. And hey - it heated up the house a little, too.

A public note to the woman talking WAYYYY too loud in the coffee shop earlier today: Thank you for feeling so open to sharing your sexual history to the entire population enjoying their morning java. You're right ... there IS a difference between him wanting you and needing you and you shouldn't just be a default choice for him between sleeping alone and sleeping with someone. One minor little comment though, if I may ... perhaps this would have been a better discussion to have with your friend over coffee in a private location. Or, here's a wild thought ... maybe you should be talking to the guy in question. In either event, I'm pretty sure the man who left with his grandson as you were getting more and more graphic now gets to answer questions that he may not be fully prepared to respond to.

And, finally, let me just add this



29 years and this loss is still felt globally.

It's Right There In Black And White

Post-move, the frenzy of "feathering the nest" has, for the most part, slowed way down. We've been looking for an entertainment stand (not one of those "centers" that takes over a room - just a long, fairly low-profile bench-style wooden cabinet) which will hold the TV (which we also haven't yet purchased) in the living room and a few lamps or end tables, and then we'll turn our attention to the spare bedroom/office (which lacks a bed and a workspace currently) but that's really about it.

One Christmas when I was a young kid, I watched with envy as my sister opened her very own TV, which she'd be placing in her bedroom and would begin to lord it over me. It wasn't so much that I wanted a TV in my bedroom, but more about her having one and my not.

As a teen, I turned my attention more towards music, my friends, boys, my pet birds, and shopping (not necessarily in that order) and it never entered my head to ask for a TV for my bedroom. I never missed it and it never occurred to me that I didn't have one.

In the various studios and apartments that I've lived in since then, the TV always was placed in the living room. If there was anything in the bedroom that was plugged in, it was either a clock radio, a stereo or a reading lamp.

(I'm leading up to something here, I promise.)

Yesterday, shortly after 11am, a 42-inch TV was delivered to my door, and was installed in the master bedroom. As it was sitting on a corner-shaped stand, it didn't take up nearly as much room as I was originally fearing it would. I decided to connect the BluRay/DVD player to it and get it in working order so that, when the awesome boyfriend visited later in the day, he'd be pleased with the newest item in the home.

I read through the "easy set up guide" (don't even get me started on THAT) and followed the suggested connections to the letter, put batteries in both remote controls and got things up and running (after a few false starts). After programming the time and date on the TV, I fired up the BluRay/DVD. (It's a very nice machine ... literally. It started with a message to me ... "Welcome" and then "please wait")

I loaded the only BluRay I had at my disposal - the very classic holiday movie "It's a Wonderful Life" - and lo and behold, after a few more whirrs and clicks, there was Frank Capra's quaint title screen. Crisp. Sharp. Clear ... and with sound, even. I was thrilled and decided to test my success with a DVD, just to be sure that it wasn't a fluke. I grabbed a DVD that the awesome boyfriend had loaned to me, and ejected the BluRay disc. The DVD loaded and ...

it was crisp. Sharp. Clear and with sound. But ... it was in black and white. And I moved connections around but couldn't get it to show in anything BUT black and white. I read the setup guide suggestions again. I turned things off. I rotated plugs. I stared at the diagram. I stared at the back of the TV. I stared at the back of the BluRay/DVD player. I turned things back on again and in a different order. Black and white. Drat - why had the BluRay worked so well but the DVD wouldn't cooperate?

And it was that moment when I realized that my first success? Yeah, I had loaded a black and white movie.
****************************************
(It should be noted that the awesome boyfriend fixed this issue in the first 5 minutes of being home.)

Things That Make Me Laugh When I Read Them

SIDE EFFECTS
by Steve Martin (yes, THAT Steve Martin). Originally published in The New Yorker, April 13, 1998.

DOSAGE: Take two tablets every six hours for joint pain.

SIDE EFFECTS: This drug may cause joint pain, nausea, head-ache, or shortness of breath. You may also experience muscle aches, rapid heartbeat, and ringing in the ears. If you feel faint, call your doctor. Do not consume alcohol while taking this pill; likewise, avoid red meat, shellfish, and vegetables. O.K. foods: flounder. Under no circumstances eat yak.

Men can expect painful urination while sitting, especially if the penis is caught between the toilet seat and the bowl. Projectile vomiting is common in thirty per cent of users - sorry, fifty per cent. If you undergo disorienting nausea accompanied by migraine and raspy breathing, double the dosage. Leg cramps are to be expected; one knee-buckler per day is normal. Bowel movements may become frequent-in fact, every ten minutes. If bowel movements become greater than twelve per hour, consult your doctor, or any doctor, or just anyone who will speak to you.

You may find yourself becoming lost or vague; this would be a good time to write a screenplay. Do not pilot a plane, unless you are among the ten per cent of users who experience "spontaneous test-pilot knowledge". If your hair begins to smell like burning tires, move away from any buildings or populated areas, and apply tincture of iodine to the head until you no longer hear what could be taken for a "countdown". May cause stigmata in Mexicans.

If a fungus starts to grow between your eyebrows, call the Guinness Book of World Records. May induce a tendency to compulsively repeat the phrase "no can do". This drug may cause visions of the Virgin Mary to appear in treetops. If this happens, open a souvenir shop. There may be an overwhelming impulse to shout out during a Catholic Mass "I'm gonna whoop you wid da ugly stick!" You may feel a powerful sense of impending doom; this is because you are about to die.

Men may experience impotence, but only during intercourse. Otherwise, a powerful erection will accompany your daily "walking-around time". Do not take this product if you are uneasy with lockjaw. Do not be near a ringing telephone that works at 900 MHz or you will be very dead, very fast. We are assuming you have had chicken pox. You also may experience a growing dissatisfaction with life along with a deep sense of melancholy - join the club!

Do not be concerned if you arouse a few ticks from a Geiger counter. You might want to get a one-month trial subscription to Extreme Fighting. The hook shape of the pill will often cause it to become caught in the larynx. To remove, jam a finger down your throat while a friend holds your nose to prevent the pill from lodging in a nasal passage. T hen throw yourself stomach first on the back portion of a chair. The expulsion of air should eject the pill out of the mouth, unless it goes into a sinus cavity, or the brain.

WARNING: This drug may shorten your intestines by twenty-one feet. Has been known to cause birth defects in the user retroactively. Passing in front of TV may cause the screen to moiré. Women often feel a loss of libido, including a whole octave lowering of the voice, an increase in ankle hair, and perhaps the lowering of a testicle. If this happens, women should write a detailed description of their last three sexual encounters and mail it to me, Bob, Trailer Six, Fancyland Trailer Park, Encino, CA. Or E-mail me at bobathot-guydotcom.

Discontinue use immediately if you feel that your teeth are receiving radio broadcasts. You may experience "lumpy back" syndrome, but we are actively seeking a cure. Bloated fingertips on the heart-side hand are common. When finished with the dosage, be sure to allow plenty of "quiet time" in order to retrain the eye to move off stationary objects. Flotation devices at sea will become pointless, as the user of this drug will develop a stone-like body density; therefore, if thrown overboard, contact your doctor.

This product may contain one or more of the following: bungee cord, plankton, rubber, crack cocaine, pork bladders, aromatic oils, gunpowder, corn husk, glue, bee pollen, dung, English muffin, poached eggs, ham, Hollandaise sauce, crushed saxophone reeds.

Sensations of levitation are illusory, as is the sensation of having a "phantom" third arm. Users may experience certain inversions of language. Acceptable: "Hi, are how you?" Unacceptable: "The rain in Sprain slays blainly on the phsssst."

Twenty minutes after taking the pills, you will feel an insatiable craving to take another dose. AVOID THIS WITH ALL YOUR POWER. It is advisable to have a friend handcuff you to a large kitchen appliance, ESPECIALLY ONE THAT WILL NOT FIT THROUGH THE DOORWAY TO WHERE THE PILLS ARE. You should also be out of reach of any weapon-like utensil with which you could threaten friends or family, who should also be briefed to not give you the pills, no matter how much you sweet-talk them. Notice: This drug is legal in the United States only when the user is straddling a state line.

Gifts From The Heart

If you have access to the Internet today (and, if you're reading this, you must have SOME kind of access), you're likely aware that today is known as "Cyber Monday". It's my understanding that Black Friday is when the really organized, super-saver, highly-motivated (and more than a little bit crazy) types get most, if not all, of their holiday shopping completed. Cyber Monday was mostly created by accident, when retailers realized that a large percentage of the gift-buying population actively avoided Black Friday and instead focused their gift-buying over the Internet, and tended to wait until they'd returned to work post-Thanksgiving.

While Lloyd, Janet, Frank and Beth were discussing their various Thursday feasts and sharing stories about their crazy cousins around the water cooler for an hour or so, Craig and Ellen would jump online and get five or six names crossed off their collective gift-buying lists. Now granted, retailers are also responsible for continuing the trend, providing price reductions and free shipping deals that are good for today only. If you've had an email address for more than two years, you've likely received more than a few "don't miss these deals" and "price slashing galore" notes from retailers you've shopped from ... or from partners of retailers you've shopped from.

This may be the first year that I'll actually create ... and stick to ... a physical gift list. Partially driven from an economic standpoint and partially from a "do NOT forget to send a gift to this person", it means that I'll likely feel that I've let some folks down in the gift category, since I tend to go overboard. This is not my fault. I blame my parents.

As adults, my sister and I would beg my parents to stick to a budget or a "just this number of packages" parameter and each year, the haul under the tree would get more and more absurd. They got around the "number of packages" suggestion by wrapping multiple items in a larger box. I once received seven separate items, each wrapped, because my father had them placed in a box that he'd had some Model A tires in. (Yeah, I tried to keep a smile on my face when I read the side of the box ... "wow dad - dunno what to say, yanno? I've never really received tires for a vehicle I don't own as a gift before.") My mother got around the budget suggestion by having the cats and dogs go shopping. ("I can't help it if Ginger felt she had to give you this coat from Nordstroms, hunny. And Puff saw these slippers and just couldn't stop herself.")

And I'm not joking at all about that "pets giving gifts" thing, either. It doesn't even seem strange to me anymore - to make sure that I buy a stocking for each canine member of the extended family. I even address cards that way ... in fact, the Halloween card that was sent to my parents home was addressed exclusively to Hershel, the "youngest member" of their family, and commonly referred to as "my" dog. (This is true because while I was in the process of moving, I lived with my folks and Hershel was a terrific companion for me and my constant shadow. My father believed I was trying to turn his dog against him but I just have a soft spot for "Hershey". After all, he came home on his first trip while sleeping in my lap and I even named him - sparing him the indignity of being called "Cocoa". I think he still appreciates it.)

But this year, my gift giving will be specific to direct family and a few others. I'll try to use retailers who will ship items for me, and most will do so at no cost, especially on Cyber Monday. It means that I'll have to spend extra time to think about the gifts I give, and allow time for me to write more than just "happy holidays" on cards that I send. It's eye-opening to me to realize that being on a budget means I may put more thought into what I do for the holidays.

I just got an email from an online pet store with a deal on dog toys. I wonder if they'll ship extra-large bones ...

*urp*

There was, of course, the bird. In fact, there was a bird and a half. There also was, naturally, cranberry sauce.
(Side note - while the awesome boyfriend and I tried several different "reform the can shape" ideas, we settled on the familiar "rounds" that were cut and put on platters ... ala a Tomato Salad. It was largely ignored because ... well ... there was a LOT to choose from so just keep reading.)

There was stuffing. There was ("was" or "were"? .... hmmmm) mashed potatoes.
(Another side note - I can actually picture the awesome boyfriend reading this while muttering "it wasn't just 'stuffing' - it was 'sausage, mushroom, bacon, cornbread stuffing with cranberries, apples, and toasted pecans'." I hope he'll forgive me for the generalizations in the names of the dishes.)

There was salad. There were cornbread rolls. There was soup. There was a corn casserole. There was a green bean casserole. There was sauerkraut and sausage. There were stewed tomatoes. There were sweet potatoes. There was gravy. There was cheesecake. There were apple pies.
(Plural. As in "more than one".)

There were ice creams.
(Plural. As in "more than one" and "made from scratch".)

There was chocolate trifle and there was pumpkin pie.
(There was not a pecan pie - but perhaps we'll talk about that another day.)

There was family. Multiple generations and in-laws and cousins and parents and each individual person at that table brought more to the feast by just sitting down at the table. There were photos shared and stories retold. There was laughter and thanks was given for just having the opportunity to be be seated there.

And to be included at that table? To be allowed to assist in making that memory occur? I am really and truly blessed.

I am thankful ... and I give thanks.

It's November 19th - Happy "Appreciate Your Neighbor" Day

Most times, I don't think twice about what day/date is on my calendar. For starters, I don't have a paper calendar on my wall - just an electronic one that I glance at about once a week. Secondarily, I have all the important dates (birthdays, anniversaries, etc.) pretty much memorized and November is light on those (just 2 birthdays of note) so I'm not too concerned about the date.

But holidays are different. Holidays are dictated by the calendar (and backed up by the merchants) so one can't miss a holiday. Oh sure - Arbor day maybe, but none of the big holidays - where there's a chance for a store to make a buck, I mean. However, there are four holidays that are dictated by the calendar that kinda ... bother me.

One occurs in February and is all about Love (yes, capital "L"). Another happens in November and is all about Gratitude (uh huh - capital "G"). And then we have May and June to show our appreciation for the two humans who brought us into this world. Apparently a portion of the population feels the need to identify a specific date to express themselves. And that's not to say that they don't express themselves on other dates, too but ... flowers, cards, big meals, special evenings out, cleaning out the garage, brunch ... "yep, the calendar says this is the day so here - have some candy and flowers, Mom."

It's perhaps more than a little naive of me to make this suggestion but I'm willing to be more than a little naive. What if one purchased a bunch of Thanksgiving-themed cards this week and sent them to their friends, families, neighbors in ... March or July? What if, when February rolls around, one stocked up on Valentine's Day cards and gave them to their loved one throughout the year? "Hey Sweetheart - I really appreciated you raking the leaves in the yard while I watched the first football game of the year, and I wrote how I feel about you in this card. I hope you'll be my Valentine."

For what it's worth, I found some a Mother's Day card a few years ago that just cracked me up. I purchased 8 of them - 8 of the same exact card - and I've given them to my Mom at random times. I'm gonna go slap a stamp on another one and send it off ... just because I'm thinking of her.

Because ... we shouldn't need a calendar to tell us when to think of the important people in our lives, or when to be thankful for them, either.

A Public Response

to The U.S Preventive Services Task Force and their recent announcement/findings regarding breast self-exams and mammograms not being necessary until the age of 50 (and then being scheduled every other year).


Two words: Bite. Me.


Since I realize that statistics and results and numbers can be mis-quoted or skewed to support whatever result an individual or group is behind, I won't argue anything like that here (*ahem morethan 192,000 womenwillbediagnosedwithbreastcancerbeforethisyearcomestoaclose*) but instead would like to engage in what is known as "Push Button Morality" with a classic moral dilemma posed originally by Victor Grassian, author of "Moral Reasoning".

It goes something like this ...

You're standing at a railroad switch which starts at Position A.
There is a train barreling towards 20 people on a track.
If you choose, you can throw the switch to B.
This will direct the train down a track where there are 5 people.

With no time to decide, will you save 20 lives by sacrificing 5?

(and while you're rationalizing that in your brain, Mr. Grassian further adds ...)

Realizing that, by doing so, you - and you alone - will have aggressively caused the death of 5 individuals.

The Longest Yard

I've already written about my move earlier this Fall, and I've been writing about the various little home updates I've been doing since then. What I haven't written about is my new surroundings, and I'll try to do that today.

I live on a corner lot, with no neighbor across the street, a nice, straight driveway (perfect for Jake), and a large, easily-to-scale tree in the back yard. (I had to climb it earlier last month to free an old length of rope that had been forgotten. Well - in fairness - I didn't HAVE to climb it, as the rope wasn't harming anything but I wanted to climb it. It's just one of those trees that says "climb me" so ... yeah ... I did.)

To the right of my driveway is the home of my nearest next door neighbor, who is also my landlord (in name only). She's a very sweet woman who, prior to my moving in, had met me one time, but we've had several conversations since my relocation. She is terribly kind, always offering to lend a hand if I have any problems or questions, even though she has more than enough on her plate already.

To the right of her home is the home of my next next door neighbors. It is because of the residents of this home that I was able to move into MY home. (They essentially "vouched" for me.) I've known two of the members of this family for about 7 months. I'm in love with the third member of the family, and have referred to him here in the past as "the awesome boyfriend".

I do not live with the awesome boyfriend for various reasons, including my desire to establish myself in my own space. We have a quasi-routine which allows for him to basically have two homes and he can be in either one, at his choice ... whichever provides the least amount of stress for all concerned. I do my utmost to respect his decisions on where he spends his free time (which is stretched as it is) and I try very hard to not show disappointment if it makes more sense for him to be elsewhere - the guilt/pressure would be unnecessary and unfair. I do not always succeed not showing that disappointment, but I DO try.

I failed last night. Last night, I looked out my kitchen window and I sighed. He was right there. Right there. And even though the distance between us was no longer than before, even though one could hold their breath and walk from one home to the other, even though I'd been in his arms just a few hours earlier ...

... it really just was the longest yard.




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(I realize that writing about these pangs of longing may, in fact, feel like guilt/pressure to the awesome boyfriend. However, my intent here - at this space - is to express my feelings, experiences, ideas, and observations.)

The Scottish Play

Today is Friday. Today is the 13th. I knew both of these facts. I knew it was Friday, and even wished the cashier "happy Friday" when she took my coffee order. And I knew it was the 13th, because I paid a few bills so I had to write the date on the check and in my checkbook. So yes, I knew that today was the 13th and that it was a Friday.

But I didn't realize today was Friday the 13th until another customer came in to talk about the nasty streak of luck they'd experienced on their way to the coffee shop ... and another customer said "well, it is Friday the 13th."

Even though I am very Irish, I don't subscribe most of the superstitions I heard while growing up. (Full disclosure: I DID kiss the Blarney Stone when I was in Ireland.) I believe that breaking a mirror is no less dangerous than breaking a dish or glass. I do knock wood upon occasion, but I believe that walking under a ladder is just as dumb as walking underneath scaffolding. I believe that any cat that crosses my path is looking for treats or a warm lap. I believe that walking on a sidewalk with cracks should be done carefully because it's just one more thing for me to trip over. And I believe that spilling salt means you've probably under-seasoned your dish, so throwing MORE away makes no sense at all.

So yes, today is Friday the 13th, but I have things to do today. A quick look outside tells me that an umbrella will be necessary during my errand run. (*ahem* I will be closing the umbrella before I'm indoors.)

Time Flies Like An Arrow ...

... fruit flies like a banana.
- Groucho Marx

Politicians are judged by their first 100 days in office. (Right, wrong, or otherwise.) Using that as my measuring guide, here's a list - probably incomplete - of what I've accomplished in under 50 days in my new home:
Stripped the outward door locks to allow for the porch door to operate better.
Stripped the inner door locks to allow for the inner door to operate better.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new bed and frame.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new sofa. (It's VERY comfortable.)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together a new kitchen table and chairs.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new kitchen pantry piece.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a kitchen rolling drop-leaf cabinet.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of two new side bedroom tables.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a new 5-drawer dresser for the bedroom.
Shopped for, purchased, and took delivery of a corner TV stand for the bedroom.
Replaced the outlet plates throughout the house.
Replaced the light switch plates throughout the house.
Arranged for the replumbing of the bathroom fixtures and the kitchen (which, sadly, needs to be revisited because the bathtub still "gurgles".)
Shopped for, purchased, took delivery of, and put together three (wickedly heavy) bookcases.
Began to install new doorknobs in the interior of my home. (Yes, I'm still on "began". I've run into another snag - the striker plate screws are too close together for the original door so I need to figure out an extender idea.)
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This list is for my next "geez, I haven't done a damn thing since I've been here" day. Those days tend to be when my "what I need to still do" list seems to grow and the "what I've done" list seems to shrink.

Now I'm gonna go get a hot chocolate, sit on my new sofa, and read for a bit. Because, as Groucho also said, "outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog, it's too dark to read."

If The Door Doesn't Work, Use A Window

So after my morning routine yesterday, I stopped by a home improvement store (which I'll call "Highs") for a few things. This Highs is pretty much next to my coffee shop and I've been in it a lot over the past month. I know this is true because even 'tho it is a LARGE warehouse space, I roam around like a construction worker on a mission.

I use Highs as a dual-purpose shopping exercise. I typically buy what I came in for, and then I see a few other ideas and I put them in the card and then I get home and realize "yeah, I don't have that kind of wiring" or "whoops - that's too wide for what I need". But not yesterday.

Yesterday I strolled in, got my electrical outlet and light switch plates in the brushed bronze finish ... and the brushed silver, to see which would look better. The ONLY unplanned thing was a kit to grow some paper whites. (We'll see how that goes. I hope to keep my black thumb away from it.) I drove home and started to work. I replaced the kitchen light switch plate (the brushed silver seems to go better with my copper ware) and replaced three plates in the living room.

Buoyed by this success (which, I'll admit, was just knowing how to use a screwdriver), I decided to go to the other nearby home improvement store ... which I'll call "House Terminal" ... with the goal of replacing the rest of the various electrical plates in the house as well as the interior doorknobs. To avoid feeling overwhelmed, I wrote out how many of what I'd need (and noted which rooms they were intended for, in case their supply did not match my needs).

I'm not as familiar with the layout of House Terminal but it didn't take long for me to find the right aisle. After finding the electrical and light switch plates (and then replacing them with a less "designer style" version I'd found further down the aisle), I turned my attention to the doorknobs.

I was in the doors area and feeling somewhat dismayed by the lack of options. I suppose my disappointment was all over my face because a House Terminal employee approached me and said "we have a lot of other options down this aisle ... follow me".

Talk about overwhelmed! It was so much more than just "brushed bronze" ... it was "hallway/closet", "bathroom", "keyed", "smart keyed", "exterior", "dummy knob covers", "lever-style". The selection went for what seemed to be *miles*. It took me about 25 minutes to match the new plates with the right style with the right finish. (Did you know that "aged bronze" is different from "aged brushed bronze" and both are different from "brushed, tumbled aged bronze"? I'm not completely joking, either.) In any event, after much consideration, my new projects were bagged and I was on my way home once again.

{I'll take a moment to interrupt myself here. I really enjoy this kind of work - home improvement, I mean. I'm still very much a klutz, so I'm hesitant to grab a power tool (and still don't own one), but doing work on a home ... mine or otherwise ... to make it more comfortable, safer, more efficient really makes me happy. With so many tasks/jobs, one never gets to see a result. This isn't the case with home projects and, if they're done correctly, the level of pride that comes along is also satisfying. Not the kind of pride that brings about bragging ... but the kind that makes one realize they've made a difference. And, while I'm light-years away from considering myself to be handy around a home, I know that I've made a different in many zip codes in the South and look forward to making a difference in my new home, too.}

I took the first brushed silver light switch plate into the bathroom and removed the old surround. I looked at the old plate ... and then looked at the new one I'd just purchased. Too skinny. The older plate was far wider - perhaps as much as an inch on either side. "Alright", I shrugged. "Strike one. You'll just use it elsewhere and find a replacement when you're at Highs next time."

I then took my newly purchased doorbell switch and headed to the side entryway. I unscrewed the upper and lower screws to see that the switch is hard-wired directly into the bell. "Bummer ... strike two", I thought. (I don't play with electricity ... ever.)

Down but not out, I went to the bathroom and, after using a blade, several screwdrivers and some carefully used force, I managed to remove the doorknob and striking plate. I started to install the replacement knob and immediately realized that adjustments would be needed. After hand-chiseling some of the door along the lever, I turned to the new striking plate. It also needed adjustment but, after about an hour, I managed to get both pieces to fit nicely. I was at "step 3" on the "how to easily and safely install the handles without power tools" when I noticed the discrepancy between the dowel-sized opening that existed in the door and the fist-sized opening the new knob requires. Damn. Strike three.

The various pieces of what I'd removed and what I'd purchased went into plastic bags and I made myself a losers mug of hot chocolate. I felt ... well ... I guess I felt like a fraud. Here I'd spent hundreds of hours doing home repair work just a few years ago and now I couldn't even install a simple door knob. I flipped open an old copy of a magazine that had interviewed one of the families whose home I'd worked on. There it was standing behind them ... the proof ... steps, siding, roofing, windows, paint, doors ... I'd seen this stuff being done before. Heck, I'd DONE some of this stuff before. And now ... the tears welled and a small pity party began with me as the guest of dishonor.

It was about thirty minutes later when my guy visited. I asked him to hold me while I apologized for my failure at these simple tasks. I promised him that I really *had* done repair work and I was successful at it, even. I don't know if I was trying to convince him or convince myself. Without saying why, he took me by the arm, walked me outside, and made me look up. At the moon, the stars, the sky, the trees. Perspective ... he gave me a window with a view of perspective. If the door knob in the bathroom would take longer to replace, who cared? If the light switch plate didn't match the power outlet plate, so what?

^^ All that was yesterday.

I walked out to my car today to find a Craftsman drill case sitting by my door. It's a loan from my guy, who clearly didn't lose faith in me, even when I had.

It's 11:51am and I'm going to go visit Highs in a few minutes to return the doorbell that won't work and the light switch cover that is too skinny. Then I'm going to go visit House Terminal with the old door knob and photos of the door I'm working with so that someone there can tell me what tools I need to make it work.

And, while I'm at Highs, I hope to find a brushed silver replacement for the push-plate that I removed from the door that leads down the stairs ...

Table For Two

I never realized that it could be this easy.

We gather to share a meal - experiences and battle-scars are our dishes to offer. We're either dining with someone who wants - and can accept - an honest reaction ("this is too bitter for my tastes", "this could use more spice but it's good", "I've tried this and I'm not a fan") or we're dining with someone who just needed a space to sit down, who doesn't want to pass around their courses, or who isn't interested in tasting what you've brought to the table. It can be hard to not take that response personally, however it just leaves more for the right dining partner to enjoy.

It's more than being open to try new flavors. It's more than wanting to share your meal in the first place. It's honestly all about finding the right person to sit across from at the table, no matter the course being served.

So fa, so good

Well it was successful.

It may have not been a place I found on my own and the item itself wasn't what I'd originally selected as "hmmmm waddya think of this?", but we found something we can live with AND we are still talking to each other so I'm gonna count it as a win.

Granted, I still haven't seem to found my style when it comes to giving a room a "look" ... but that'll either happen in time or it won't - and I can live with that.

Saturday Stuff (The Follow-Up Blurb)

* Moby - Natural Blues. And I wasn't that far off on the lyrics either. (Note to self: Never go up against my guy on "Name That Tune" ... and never underestimate his ability to translate when I say "the song goes like 'Oh Lord there's trouble ahead something ... something ... something something' and then there's music.")

* We DID sleep in this morning - after 8am even!! I was first one up so I got breakfast for us, which we both ate in bed (not something we typically ever do). We joked about my stomach growls and I think I shocked him by how fast I inhaled my doughnuts.

* CalTrans has decided to announce that they'll be putting safety first. This is news? Shouldn't they have ALWAYS been doing that?!? Guess that explains why the failure occurred in the first place.

* Shopping with gift card complete, and was met with a 90% approval rating. Hopefully that won't get any lower.

* "Snapple the cat" ... it just makes me giggle to say that out loud. "Snaaaaaaple here kitty kitty kitty? Have you seen Snapple? I last saw Snapple on the washing machine but now ... nowhere to be found." It's growing on me.

* My Brooklyn crickets met us at the door last night. After a brief negotiation, they allowed us to pass into the kitchen. Somehow I need to figure out a way to get them to spend Winter elsewhere, as I don't want to house them forever ... unless they start doing laundry for me or something.

* Different crowd at the coffee shop on weekends. Can't say that I'm wild about it, either. (Again, it's that whole "adjusting to changes in MY routine" thing.)

Furniture stores. Gonna chug my mocha and then will be off to find a couch and/or seating for the living room. For reasons I don't need to go into here, I'm incredibly nervous about doing this. *sigh*

Ok - here we go ...



Moby just started on the loop ... must be a sign ...

Friday Fluff

* There's this song - no idea who sings it or the name and it's possible that I'm not even getting the lyrics right - that I hear every third day or so in my coffee shop. I really like it. It's a guy singing, rather breathy voice, and I think he's saying something like "Oh Lordy - trouble ahead" over and over. Good stuff, musically. Perhaps I'll ask who it is next time I hear it.

* The leaf-blower guy is VERY thorough. I've seen him be totally done with the entire parking lot and then a patron will leave their spot and he'll go back and get that area, too.

* I really like my bed. It's comfortable and toasty warm, which may be why getting out of it is a chore. I REALLY hope to sleep in a bit tomorrow. That would be sooooooooo nice.

* Nice job on the bridge-work, SF. Maybe now getting it done *right* will be more important than getting it done *quickly*.

* I found a gift card I'd forgotten about buried deep in my pocketbook yesterday and just checked the amount online a few minutes ago. Good Lord, there's shopping to be done!!!!!

* Cat Names (for the file, to be used later). "Kitty", "Whiskers", "Cat", and "Agory" are very, very out. "Murphy" and "Snapple" seem to be at the top of the list. I also like the idea of "TS Eliot" as a cat name - but that's just the theater-geek part of me.

* If I'd been asked to bet that I would know, within the first month of my move, where the four closest home repair/hardware shops where located but not where the nearest shoe repair, high-end salon, honest car repair shop, or good dry cleaner was located, I woulda told lost money.

* The holidays are looming and I have NO ideas for those at the top of my "list". (I put "list" in quotes because I also have no list). I should start paying more attention to try to get inspired. (And I can't use the gift card for this ... because it's for a women's clothing store, and my mom spent a whole week in August donating clothing she didn't want anymore so no clothes!)

* The crickets seem to have mostly departed from the basement. The two that tried to mug me last night were - I hope - the last of the clan. (I swear one of them was wearing a cap and talking in a Brooklyn-type accent ... something like "ya' wanna maybe toin off da' light? The glare is keeping us awake.")

* I baked off another apple pie yesterday. In honor of Halloween, I added raspberries to the apple base and decided it was a "bloody apple pie". I haven't had a slice (in fact, I haven't had any of the apple pies I've made yet - I keep giving 'em away, which is fine with me) so I hope it's good. I'll be giving this one away, too. I guess I rely on people to tell me what they taste like so that I know how I'm doing. Thus far, I've been doing alright with the pies. I have no idea if there was a big difference with making my crust from scratch vs. buying the dough but *shrug* at least I realize I CAN do it. That being said, I will probably buy some more dough and let it live in the freezer. I'm still forming it into the pie pans myself so I feel a little more connected to the final product.

That's it, I think. Ten random little bits of nonsense taking up space in my head. I feel lighter already. I guess that's why I do this ... the whole "blog" thing, I mean. I know that some folks write for laughs or to educate, some write about their children and/or their families, or to chronicle a specific journey. I write to clean my head.

You'd think I'd write far more often, eh?

Wednesday, Brought To You By The Letter "P"

(Note to the Awesome Boyfriend - See?? I TOLD ya' I was gonna write about this!)
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Last night, after a quick meal out, as the quiet enfolded the house, the Awesome Boyfriend leaned over to me and said something like "... photogenic, by the way. Not 'photographic'." If you're looking for context in this comment, so was I. But, in my blob entry yesterday, I wrote that my niece is photogenic and that I've never really been photographic. And apparently that reads strangely.

This would be another one of those times where I know what it sounds like in my head - and it SOUNDS correct - even if it doesn't quite read that way. And ... the other thing of it is that the Awesome Boyfriend is very very intelligent. Not just educated, 'tho he is that, to be sure - but he's also just very smart. And he barely even mentioned it - the incorrect word, I mean, so it's not like he was just looking for something to correct me on. Not at all - he was just doing some filing in his head and came across that in his "random stuff" stack and heck, I can relate. Out of nowhere last night during dinner, I mentioned that I'd found a new sitcom online and it really sucked. No context at all - we weren't talking about TV or anything. I just was doing my own "head files cleanup" and came upon that "note to self". He looked at me for more and I didn't have any more. That was the extent of my comment.

Anyway so here's the thing. I realize that photogenic SOUNDS like what I meant to write. I know it reads better that way - and I agree that photogenic would work just as well. But it really isn't what I meant. In my mind, someone who is photoGENic gets prepared for a photography session, sits nicely, relaxes their face, clears their mind, gets to their "happy place" or whatever and *click* great shot. In my head, someone who is photoGRAPHic just naturally takes a great shot - never needs to prepare, is hardly aware of a camera being out, never worries about what their facial muscles are doing or if they were squinting, etc.

So when I wrote yesterday that N#1 is photogenic, I meant just that. Her mom spent extra time on getting her ready and she sat nicely with her hands folded and looking into the camera and, in the ten or more shots that were taken, they selected the best one and there ya' go. She's photogenic. However she's also a child - so if she's NOT prepared, if she's not aware of the camera, her face gets all screwy and then ya' remember "oh - right - she's FOUR."

N#2 never seems to be relaxed in front of a camera. Ever. Possibly it's an awareness that her sister is rather a shutter hog, but more likely it's just part of being two years old. The "hmmm - what do I look like at this moment?" awareness that everyone older than her seems to have acquired may not have kicked in yet. Thus far, N#2 is not photographic. I've seen shots of her being photogenic, but they're not as common as the ones where she's just being a kid.

There's today's look in the "FTG Dictionary". Photogenic - someone who can pose well in a photograph when prepared. Photographic - someone who looks their best in a photograph, prepared or not.
**********
(Hey hun - maybe tonight we can try to find my Webster's in one of my boxes in the back bedroom? Just - yanno - for me to have it nearby and all...)

Picture This

Yesterday's mail included some cards and photographs from my sister. (My sister, like me, cannot buy just ONE card in a shop. It seems neither of us can leave a card store for under $10.)

In one photograph is N#1 (Niece #1) sitting perfectly, her lovely face framed with her long hair freshly brushed and moderately curled, looking off to one side of the camera (as we were always instructed to do on "picture day") and, while I'm biased, she really IS very photogenic.

It is with mild envy that I must admit N#1 looks as beautiful as my sister did at that age. It is with an equally mild amount of annoyance that I admit that I was never the photographic one. For starters, that would have meant sitting still for several minutes and that was just a giant waste of my time, when there were trees to climb and games to play and bikes to ride. I'll further admit that I'm still not photographic. As I've said to the Awesome Boyfriend, I believe that I'm better live and in person.

In a separate photo that was included in the stack was a more "real" version of N#1 ... laying on the carpet looking exhausted while playing in the living room with N#2 and their puppy. In that shot, N#2 looks nearly exactly like I did at that age ... huge forced grin/grimace complete with missing teeth, hair askew, face ruddy from playing hard. Heck, add a cast on her arm and I'd swear it was me.

Which reminds me - I wanna call my sister and tell her to up the calcium intake on N#2. Yanno ... just in case.

It's Not So Unusual.

We all have a routine. It may not be structured day-by-day, but there are things we do that we just ... do. There are things that we expect - not necessarily detailed or fancy - that we just expect. The paper being on the door step in the morning, the radio traffic reports at a specific time, maybe even a "usual time" for the mail being delivered or a usual spread on our usual sandwich made with our usual bread. These little "count-ons" seem normal and regular to us - but other folks have THEIR routine too - and gosh, are THEY ever picky!!!

I was standing in line for my coffee this morning, and the individual in front of me just could not get over the shop not having strawberry topping for her Friday bagel. Even after the staff explained that they had to toss out their stash because it had reached the expiration date, and that it was a seasonal item anyway, this person was just aghast that her "usual" was no longer available. She wasn't upset at the staff - she understood it was not their decision - but now she had to change her routine and that really seemed to bug her.

My first reaction was one of "geez - get over it lady". My second was a more smug "see, this wouldn't happen if you had a stash of homemade jam". And my third reaction was just beginning to wash over me when I heard a voice behind the counter say "Oh hi! Your usual order"?

Busted. Totally and completely busted.

So yes, I have a routine. Not including my coffee order, I have my usual table, where I setup my laptop and power it up before I place my order. I have my usual parking area where I can keep an eye on who parks next to me, in an effort to avoid door dings. I have my usual route to get to the cafe, and even a usual time by which I've arrived. All these usuals are tied to just this one event in my day - getting coffee.

Of course, like everyone else, I also have a whole routine prior to getting out of the house each day and, while the events of each day may be somewhat varied, there are things that I already fall back on, even though I've lived here a total of 29 days. It seems that, as humans, we really are creatures of habit.

And, that being said, it's not my habit to spend the entire morning here so I'm gonna wrap up, drive my standard route back home, back into the driveway (as I typically do) and go enjoy what has become my usual Friday routine.

(damn, now I'm craving toast and strawberry jam)

Just Another Day

It wasn't far from my mind ... though I made sure it wasn't the focal point, either. While yesterday wasn't just any other day, I decided that I wouldn't think of it as a big deal - it'd WOULD be just another day. I'd say that I made that decision for the sake of my own sanity, but I also had the sanity of those near me in mind as well. My mindset was basically that of "this will only be a big deal if I MAKE it a big deal" and, truthfully, I didn't want it to be a big deal. Perhaps "noted", but nothing more.

So I made pie.

Strawberry ...

... and apple (with crust from SCRATCH!!!!) ...

... and caramel apple (with crust from SCRATCH!!!!) ...

(no post-baked shot on that yet, but I'll add it in).

And another apple (which I WAS just gonna freeze but it was too tall so I baked it off).

In any event, I kept busy. I SHOULD have been shopping for shelves or lighting or couches or unpacking more boxes ... but I had these GREAT apples to work with and decided that it was more important to spend the day baking in the kitchen making pies to thank those close to me. It felt better this way - rather than spending time sitting quietly and possibly "getting into my head" too much - to reach out with an expression of thanks.

With no electronic distractions in the home, I've found that I actually enjoy the silence, but I imagine that if my brain started to take me down a dark road, it'd be hard to change course so - I just did things that I wanted to do (rather than the "really should do" stuff). And I had a really nice day, even though my back kinda hurt from spending most of my day standing in the kitchen, either near the oven or at the sink.

But my day was made - absolutely MADE - when my guy showed up at the end of his work day with these LOVELY flowers for no reason at all. (What's better than pie for no reason? Flowers for no reason!!)

Once I found a vase and got them in some water, I turned to him and asked him why ... and he very quietly said that he'd wanted to do this for a bit, and that he didn't wanna make a big deal outta the day but figured that I'd appreciate them on "this day".

I still don't know how he remembered ... and I honestly don't know how he managed to figure out my state of mind over recognizing the passing of my "procedural anniversary" ... and I don't even know how he found time to get flowers and still be home at his usual time, but then, the reasons and hows aren't important.

He just ... did. And I just ... do. And we just ... are.

It turned out to be just another day.

The View From The Back

I don't consider myself short really. I did at one time though ... in fact, while growing up, I was ALWAYS the smallest in my class, the smallest in my family, the smallest in a group photo. But somewhere in my very early 20s, I looked around and saw that I was of average height, which was fine by me. I started moving myself to the middle or back rows in photos (which I was also fine with since I never really knew what to do with my hands), and no longer felt that others thought I needed to be accommodated for my lack of height - since I didn't lack it.

Anyway ...

Yesterday I was sitting in the back of a vehicle for a couple of hours. Some of the ride was spent in conversation, but some was spent in quiet reflection. (Well, for me anyway. I dunno what the other folks in the vehicle were doing but I was reflecting.) The folks in the front seats were both taller than I, and sitting in the back only amplified that difference, and it was that difference that got me thinking.

You see - the two people in the front were ... are ... really important to me. And they've both made some pretty incredible changes in their lives to allow for me to be included, not just in the vehicle but in their lives. And the last time I experienced that kind of selflessness - the last time I noticed and remarked about this sort of act of kindness - it was also being done by two people ... folks I call "Mom" and "Dad" and honestly, they kinda HAVE to be nice to me - these two folks who were in the front seat don't need to be - they just are.

So there I was in the back of this vehicle, reflecting away and studying the similarities and the differences between the two front-seat occupants and just ruminating on what this past year has brought my way, and it struck me that I wouldn't have been ready for this ride at any time before now.

I guess sometimes you can see more when the view in front is obscured.

In Which I'm Mistaken As "Emmy" In The 1987 Singular-Word Movie Title

I know that I've ... talked? said? written? ... before about my not having the ability to respond to a comment with the perfect comeback. For reasons I'm not sure about, I keep thinking that I'll outgrow this tongue tiedness at some point and will find myself in a situation where I will magically have the right words at the right time with the right inflection. I continue to be surprised that I've not yet reached that point. I'm beginning to think that perhaps that may never happen. I guess I should instead work on letting these occasions just float past me sans comment. THAT will take time, too I know.

For instance: last week, in a fairly tight-spaced area that was rather crowded with people, I pushed myself against a wall in a corner space to allow for others to walk past me ... it seemed to be the polite thing for me to do. I guess I was standing quite still while doing this because a complete stranger was startled to realize that I was not a mannequin. Her exact words to me were "Oh! I thought you were a dummy."

Now, I did a good job of joking about this for the rest of the week. I would refer to the poor choice of her words flippantly, as in "... but what do I know, I'm just a dummy" and "well, I'd do THIS, but then - I'm a dummy". And I of course know what the woman MEANT to say ... buuuuuut that's not what came outta her mouth.

And that this slip of someone else's tongue is festering in my brain so many days later - that I'm hearing her words echoing in my head and it is still making me cringe - makes me feel like I'm ........... an Egyptian modern-thinking princess stuck in an ancient time and forced to live through many hundreds of years until finding an unselfish partner who appreciates me as I am.