Hodge-Podge

OK.

You all know that I love bad, bad things. Double-Stuff Oreos. Twinkies. Cheese pizza with extra cheese. If it's bad for me I just can't seem to say "no" or "enough." For me, if something is bad (and also bad) it's always, "more, thank you!" I love almost everything with chocolate, and everything else with bacon...
But Scott Simon just interviewed a woman who talked about chocolate-covered bacon on a stick at the Minnesota State Fair. I'm afraid that has just gone too far.
Yuck.

And also? I really hate Scott Simon.

Anyway...
Last night Bean and I went out to dinner and a movie with our friend M.
We LOVE her. She's quirky and smart and funny... if I didn't know better I'd swear I gave birth to her!
M had a sad week... and we wanted to cheer her up...
So we saw the "Sing-Along" version of Mama Mia! and we sang our little lungs out. There is just something about Abba and sequins that makes it really difficult to be unhappy.

We took her back home and then Bean and I stayed up watching the first four episodes of The X-Files. There was one episode that kept making us squeal and yell, "OOOOOH creepy! Creepy, OOOOOOH!" We were quite the sight - huddled under the covers, hiding from the icky stuff and drooling over a (young) David Duchovney.

Then I (shock of all shocks) couldn't sleep. Not because of the X-Files... I'm not that big of a baby... but because for some reason I apparently can not sleep on Friday nights anymore. Which leads to sleepy Saturdays and "stay in bed all day" Sundays. But tired also leads to cluttered thinking and cluttered thinking leads to trouble. I need less trouble.

Speaking of trouble... I try not to get political here (or, you know, anywhere) but really McCain? Palin? Really? Whose vote do you think you're going to get here... mine? Because she's female? You could nominate my MOM and I would still vote Obama over your small-minded, pro-violence, anti-woman platform.
(That felt kind of good).
And I am sort of having fun with all of the "little known fact about Sarah Palin" tweets on Twitter. I'll probably be doing THAT until they lose in November.

In other news... I ordered the yarn for my brother's Ernie sweater. I was going to go with Berroco Comfort, mostly because I could get it at Twist and he could still wash it, but KnitPicks had the right colors at the WAY right price in Swish Superwash. I'm sure I will buy an equivalent amount of yarn over the next two weeks... despite the fact that I have a severely reduced income I manage to keep spending money like I have it. (Is it November yet?!?)

Sigh.

Next weekend is my "Fuckitall" trip... in which I will leave town to an undisclosed location with an undisclosed bad, bad companion to loll around in a hot tub for two days. Not going to a museum, not going to visit anyone, not going to read anything for school or answer any calls from work...

Double sigh.

Carry on, designers! Make it work!

...And Breathe

Seriously.
School and practicum and work is a LOT... especially in comparison to my two weeks of sleep, knit, read, repeat.
I have been exhausted and feeling really behind since Monday morning.

Monday in class we went over everything that we'll be doing from now until graduation in May. We all left at the end of class sort of stunned and freaked out.
Then Monday night I went to Bean's open house at school... public school makes me sad. I don't know if they really don't know what they're doing or if it just LOOKS like they don't know what they're doing, but teaching to the lowest common denominator is not, in my humble opinion, the best way to keep my kid engaged and interested in learning.

Tuesday and Wednesday I went to my practicum... it's also overwhelming.
Tuesday night the Bad, Ban man came over. I made chili and more Anadama bread. Yummy... and he made my neck feel a little better. It's good to have a bad man around sometimes.

Thursday I woke up and the mini-migraine I had been nursing all week had turned violent. I threw up twice and went back to bed. I slept all day. All. Day.
Thursday night the Roto Rooter guy came and spent three hours unclogging the tree roots from my sewer line. He also cleared out the line that runs from my laundry room. Now I can do laundry without eleven bilion gallons of water flooding the laundry room. Horay! And it didn't cost as much as I thought it would.

Today I woke up and went to work and then got a massage. The Fabulous Michelle is still broken, so I went to The Wonderful Sarah. She is not TFM, but I can move my neck now. And that is a good thing. My head still hurts, but not as bad as yesterday. Also a good thing.

And I have a new knitting project. Again, for someone else. I know.
But my baby brother wants The Ernie Sweater... and he's a thin guy, surely it won't take long to knit!


Cool, right?

Nature is a Whore to my Vacuum

So last night (after a WHOLE LONG day at school and then a LONG open house at Bean's school) we cleaned out my car.
Take a moment.
It's shocking, I know.
I'll wait.



The "way back" is still as messy as ever, but the front and back seats are cleared of crap.

Then I went inside.

I was really proud of myself for cleaning and I was even thinking that I would tackle some of the inside mess... then I went into the kitchen.
And discovered that an ENTIRE bottle of olive oil had spilled on the counter. The counter that is cluttered with groceries and (formerly) clean towels.

See what happens when I clean? I always thought the phrase was "Nature abhors a vacuum." Apparently not.

THEN, when I picked up the (almost empty) bottle of olive oil it slipped through my (oil covered) fingers and I got oil all over the floor.

Is there anything more frustrating and resistant to cleaning than oil?!?

I cleaned the counter and got most of the oil off of most of the groceries... and the floor... and myself... and then I went to rest.

My practicum went well today, but after no sleep last night and five hours of policy manuals I left early and am going to try to sneak in a nap before dinner. That Bad, Bad Man is supposed to come over and I haven't seen much of him lately, so it should be a nice, relaxing evening.

Sleep to Dream

So this inappropriate sleeping thing has GOT to stop. I either sleep too much or not at all. I didn't get to sleep last night until about 5.
And I oversleep my alarm by an HOUR... AGAIN this morning.

And the dreams. Holy Cats the dreams! They are so vivid and strange. I dreamed about Darren (and his lovely wife) last night. I don't know where that came from. In my 20's if I had a dream about Darren he would show up within about 48 hours, but that stopped happening a few years ago. I had a lot of dreams about him when he was in Iraq... but then I was thinking about him in an almost constant way when he was there. The thought of him involved in that clusterfuck made no sense in my head - I couldn't reconcile the boy I loved with the man he was there. It was frustrating to me that just when I needed the "dreaming trick" the most it refused to work.

I saw him briefly very soon after he came back and there was a lot going on (and it's not my story to tell) but I had to fight the urge to sit very very close to him and refuse to move - there was nothing at all I could do for him emotionally and I knew he would eventually be OK, but he wasn't right then and I just wanted to breathe with him until he was able to stop reminding himself to take each breath. For many, many reasons I couldn't do that and it tore me in half.

I don't know where this is coming from either.

Except that I start at the Vet Center on Tuesday and I am anxious about it. Who am I to offer solace or assistance or help to these men and women? Who am I - with my broken, broken heart - to offer strength or comfort or assurance? And if I can be so easily broken by this comparatively mild set of bad things how can I help someone who has seen real trauma?

Can I find the clinical distance that will save me from this?
Will I make it through?
Will I be enough?

Bread

I meant to take a picture of our dinner last night, but it smelled so good that I totally forgot that I even BROUGHT my camera! Sally made the most fabulous chili and Andie brought salad with spinach and peppers and sliced almonds and tomatoes and Bean and I brought bread (that I baked that afternoon) and cheesecake (that I bought that afternoon).

After dinner we went for a (long) walk. Andie and Sally have been working out regularly and Bean and I have, um, not. Bean is (of course) in better shape than I am, but we managed to keep up. It felt good to be active... and reminded me how easy it really is to just decide to get up and move around a little bit. I am looking into classes at a yoga studio downtown. I do believe that yoga can replace a lot of what you would do at a gym - resistance training and cardio - if you do it "right."

I forgot how much I enjoy baking bread. I haven't done it in so long. I made *Anadama bread last night... it has a base of cornmeal and molasses and I thought that sounded like just the thing for chili. I also have the ingredients at home for some 9-grain, which Bean and I will make this weekend.

There is something magical almost about bread from scratch. You more or less start off with the ingredients for homemade playdough and then add yeast and then beat the crap out of it, bake it, and then eat it with butter on it and congratulate yourself for your cleverness.

It also makes your house smell really good. Seriously.

And somehow it changed my mood. I was not sad yesterday... just sort of bleh, you know. Assembling all of the inredients and watching the dough take shape was great, but the end of the first rise is my favorite part. I LOVE kneading the dough at that stage because it changes so much as it rises. The Anadama bread doesn't get the same elasticity as a more traditional bread, but it's still fun. The nice thing about Anadama is that you get that good (but not overpowering) molasses smell even before you start baking.

Anyway, it made my day happy even before I had dinner with 2 of my best friends and my Bean. And I did some knitting on my Super Secret Knitting Project at Sally's. I am through with about half of the knitting part, but this one will require not only some assembly but also some crochet, so I am signing up for the next "learn to crochet" class at Twist. I am hoping to finish it in a few weeks, so I need to step it up a little bit!

One of my smaller secret knitting projects is done. I found some soap at FFT the other day that smelled sooooo good and I thought Sally needed a little lift so I bought it and knitted two washcloths for her.

It was a good night... and we are planning to make our Thursday potluck a regular thing, so I am excited to try out new recipes. I am also happy to have a "standing date" with them. I think it helps to know that there are people who are looking forward to spending time with me every week!!

'Cause it's all about me.

*This is not the recipe I used, but it's pretty close.

Selfish Knitting and B&B Fun

I have never kept a New Year's Resolution. Never. Not once.
I have resolved to lose weight, to exercise more, to read more "real literature," to stop eating fast food, to be nicer to people... once I resolved not to say bad things about someone we (still) refer to as "Laura the Twat." (That quickly got modified to "I won't say anything bad about her unless it's really funny).

I really thought this year would be different. I resolved to have a "year of selfish knitting" in which I would only knit things for myself.

On the needles right now I have a hat for Bean, a sweater for Marianne's daughter, two (count 'em) TWO mystery knitting projects and have just planned for a third small knitting giftie. I also have the Oblique sweater on the needles, and that is for me...

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!? I can't even stick to SELFISH resolutions.

I am knitting these three mystery projects (2 small and one BIG - all 3 for people who read this blog, so shhhhhhhhhh) to express something about myself and my feelings for these people, and I guess if there has ever been a year in my life when I needed to make sure that the people who love me know that I love them right back it's this year.

In which case there is a whole lot of "I love you" knitting that needs to be planned...

In other news I keep having these disaster dreams - you know, the world is ending or some faceless band of "bad guys" is coming after me. In every one there is a moment where I am wasting time looking for my shoes, and in every one there is some friend of Jeff's - usually James - who reassures me that Jeff did know that I still loved him when he died, but that his death was still completely my fault.
Nice, right?

Bean and I have been talking about my "weekend of blackness" and I don't think I completely traumatized her... she said she wasn't worried, but her plan was to call that Bad, Bad Man if I didn't perk up soon. I told her she sould clear that with him, as he may want to limit his involvement in my crazy. She said, "Well he is the guy you're dating right now." I said, "No, we are not dating. He is just the bad, bad man in my life." I also told her that I was certain that my "weekend of blackness" was limited to that weekend and that I would not let it get so bad in the future.

Speaking of that Bad, Bad Man... we are getting another weekend soon. When I called to reserve our room at the B&B she said, "And your husband's name?" My standard response, "Oh, he's dead" didn't seem appropriate and I was a little stunned by the assumption that there would be another person with me and that person must not only be male, but also my husband. I stammered a little... I was like, "Um, he's, um, we're not, um, he's not my..." Finally she stepped in and said, "What's the name of the other person staying in the room." I told her his name and then said, "Please don't call him my husband when he's there. He might leave or something." She laughed and said, "Oh, one of those."

"Yes, actually, one of those. And I like him that way, so back off!" Is what I replied. On the inside.

Frankly, if he wasn't one of those we wouldn't be having a nice weekend together. He would be off planning a weekend with some girl who wants a husband and I would be... well... probably planning a weekend at another B&B with Sally somewhere between a yarn store and a cafe, or planning a trip with The Fabulous Michelle somewhere naughty.

So, Genius...

How the hell did you manage to lock your house key inside the house??

I know, right? I mean, even I am smarter than that, right?
Nope.
Yesterday I went for a walk - you know, as a departure from my usual Sunday routine of sleeping and then eating and then sleeping some more - and I took my house key off of the ring and cleverly attached it to my iPod. When I got home - sweaty and out of breath - I tossed my iPod (key attached) - into my purse and went on with my day.

This morning I got up, took a shower, put on my lucky socks, grabbed my bag and left. Halfway to work I realized that I had forgotten my purse and I made it ALL THE WAY back to my driveway before I remembered that my house key was in my purse in my house.

So I will sit at work until Bean gets home.

I really hope Bean has her key.

Stupid lucky socks.

Ernie

So there's this guy...

My secret crush.
My Quik Trip guy. He's so pretty and he has the best smile ever.
He always makes eye contact and he does this winky-dimply-smiley thing that just gives me a little boost in the morning. And the afternoon. And sometimes when he's working on the weekend.
Love that guy.
Sigh.

And that's all I need from him. That smile. I wish other relationships were that easy... I'll never see him as the human man that he is, he's just this sweet, pretty man who works at Quik Trip.

Simple, regular, constant.

Not that I am complaining about any other relationship in my life... I know that all things considered I am very, very lucky to have everyone. And the complications in our relationships just underline their depth and importance.

But some days he is the only person I talk to who just smiles at me and asks how I am.
And he doesn't care, and I don't care, and he smiles that brilliant smile and I feel good for ten whole minutes.

AMFYOYO

That was the license tag in front of me for most of my drive in to work this morning. I am deciphering it as "A Mother Fucking Yo-Yo." It may not mean that... but that translation resonated with me and made me laugh so I'm sticking with it.

Remember at the beginning of the year when we all had that horrible flu? And we kept thinking we were "over it" and then we'd all get sick again. And it lasted forever and some of us thought we would never feel better again?
Remember how Sally and I thought we should make "I survived the Flu '08" t-shirts and then we both felt crappy again and thought maybe it was too soon to announce that we had actually survived?

I think I can say that at this point I can safely say that I have, in fact, survived the flu.

This depression is apparently the flu's cousin.

I have been reading back through journal entries and blog posts (looking for themes and patterns because that's what happens when you cross an English major with a social worker) and I keep writing, "I think I'm coming out of this," and then a few days later I'm at the bottom again. I have decided to treat it as though it were the flu and stop thinking that there is a nice predictable curve.

Better is relative... and relative to last week I feel better. For about five days I was barely functional and it started to really worry some of my inner circle friends. It started to worry me too.

I think that a lot of it has to do with these transitions... work and school and practicum and Bean and (duh) Bartleby. A lot of stuff is changing - has been changing, will be changing. And transitions are difficult under the best of circumstances.
I think some of it is that I have been running for the last two years or so on "I just have to get through this" and "this" keeps changing and I don't have a lot of energy left for running anymore.
I think that some of it is normal grief cycling through.
I think some of it is just that I haven't' had a breakdown in a long time and maybe I was due for one.

At one point a very fabulous and also very worried Michelle was talking to me with that really calm voice we save for scared animals and crazy people and she wanted to know what needed to happen for me to feel better.
I said, "I just need to put my big-girl panties on and stop acting like Jeff."

So my big-girl panties are on and I am out of bed and I am functional.
Today.
But like the weeks and weeks of flu relapse I am paying attention to what my body is telling me it needs so that I don't overdo it and end up sick again.

And, yes. I am a motherfucking yo-yo... but the fact that it is still making me laugh is a good sign for today.

Out of Sorts

I may not be posting much for a while...

I will be OK, but right now nothing I have to say is funny or interesting. It's all just a big wad of angst on one side and blank on the other.

Knit on, knitters!

Cue the Music...

BILL, I love you so, I always will...

Your result for The Harry Potter Husband Test...

Mrs. Bill Weasley

Your perfect HP man is Bill Weasley.

You like guys who are cool. And not cool in that fake, dicky way, but actually cool. He's so cool that they couldn't find any actor to adequately portray him, so they decided to just leave him out of the movies rather than risk not doing justice to his coolness. He's like the Chuck Norris of Harry Potter: plain freaking awesome. When Voldemort says "You-Know-Who", he's talking about Bill Weasley.

Take The Harry Potter Husband Test at HelloQuizzy

Luckily for me, I think that he seems like the type who would be OK not getting married. I would hate to break his heart.

Hope your Saturday is a good one.

In Which My Passive-Aggressive Side Shines:

Well hello, PMS!
No, no, please make yourself at home. It's not like I had anything else to do today... and I rather enjoy the 4-day migraine and the cramping and the mood swings. They just remind me how amazing and mystifying nature really is.
No! Really! Please just sit there, and don't mind me while I chew my fingernails to nubs and lash out mindlessly at those around me. And when I start crying there is a box of Kleenex behind you there. Just pass them over. If it's not to much trouble.
The cravings? Well, for the most part I can handle that... but - and not that I want to complain or anything - could we at least do away with the waves of depression?
No?
Oh. Well, OK. I was just thinking my time might be better spent thinking something other than half homicidal, half suicidal thoughts all day... but whatever you think is best.
I'm going to try to get some work done, so just, you know, settle in and I'll try to work around you!

I Hate Mouse Poo

I was instructed to start cleaning out my desk today.
Apparently they need space for another desk in my area and since I'm going to part-time it makes the most sense to move my stuff around.

Sure. I can see the sense in that. But I thought I would have more time... I thought I could just take a little home here and there; go through old paperwork and the layers of accumulation slowly.

Nope.

I am finding all kinds of things... some boring, some emotionally charged and some surrounded by mouse poo. I am taking a break now, trying to convince myself that the headache that I have is NOT an early symptom of the hantavirus. Stupid mouse-filled workspace. Ugh.

I have washed my hands eighty times in the last hour alone.

And I am SO tired! I have really gotten my sleep mojo back. Yesterday I slept for about 3 hours in the afternoon and then had no trouble falling asleep last night. I knew I was only going to work a half-day today so I didn't set my alarm and I didn't wake up until 11. So I have basically been asleep for 13 of the last 24 hours. That can't be good. And I could sleep now. If I didn't know how much mouse poo was all over the station I would just curl up under my desk. There's room now! I've been cleaning!!
Any other day and I would just sneak out the back door and take a nap.
But it's Wednesday and Wednesday we swim... so as soon as the Idiot Step-Mother drops Bean off we're going to mom's to get ready.

It's cooler today and I am really looking forward to some float time.

I'm sure it's all the transition stuff that is going on this month, but there is something I can't quite name that is nagging at me.
I feel like I need to slow way down and make sure that everything that I am doing and saying and accepting is really what I want to do and say and accept. Does that make sense?

Everything is just moving so fast, and the way I feel about things seems to change in unexpected ways - and then change back. It's weird to have to think of my own mind as an unreliable narrator.

Ugh. Enough of that. Back to the mouse poo!

Single Girl Chronicles: Alone vs. Lonely

I think this weird sadness that has been hovering over me for the past two weeks or so is finally maybe starting to dissipate.
Maybe.
Spending time with friends this weekend helped... and having some time with that Bad Bad Man is always a plus. I think sad is starting to move on.
Maybe.
I have certainly been knitting more, and reading a lot more... the fact that I can concentrate on either of those activities is a positive sign.
I think I was just feeling overwhelmed and alone.

As this whole grieving process moves along and I get through my anger and shock I find myself falling through emotional trap doors. Because he wasn't always a bad guy. And he did love me once. And I loved him back. And no matter how bad it got for me in the end the truth is that in the beginning it was good.
And that's the meat of it... I think that I am scared to trust that if I let someone get close enough to convince me that they love me that way that it won't end in a total shitstorm. That if I let myself need another person I am setting myself up to lose again.

I am equally afraid that there will never be another person who loves me that much.

I don't think this is a death thing... I think if we had divorced I would be going through this same sort of thing.

OK. I know that I am not alone. I have Bean, I have my friends, I have a Bad, Bad Man, I have my family.

I am not alone.

But also? I am alone.

I do not want to be married again.
I was terrible at it and it was terrible to me.
But surrounded by couples I think I started realizing that not being married took the assumption of spending the rest of my life with someone completely out of the equation.
It's that whole "fear that I might die alone and be eaten by wild dogs" thing that Bridget Jones was so worried about.
Or worse... that I might end up as one of those nursing home ladies that nobody visits.

But the thing is... being married doesn't mean those things won't happen.
Women generally outlive their husbands. We just do.
And also... I was so much more alone when Bartleby was around. There was so much I couldn't say about what was really happening in my house... and secrets build walls that that are so hard to get through.

For all of the loneliness involved, there are so many things I like about living by myself:

I like that I am not subjected to anyone else's musical taste.

I like that I don't have to negotiate with anyone if I want to re-paint the walls... or the entire house if and when I feel like it.

I like that I can buy the brand of laundry detergent that I want. Ditto the toothpaste, soap, cheese and peanut butter.

I like that for the most part I sleep alone. All the blankets, all the pillows, all the control over whether the TV is on and what is on it. I don't have to feel bad if I can't sleep and decide at 3 am to turn the lights back on and knit or read. It doesn't matter that I snore.
Sometimes Bean will want to sleep with me, and sometimes when Bean is not home there is a Bad Bad Man lurking under the covers... But those nights are the exception to the norm and even I don't mind sharing my pillows from time to time. (I will say that they are both shameless bed hogs and I almost always end up perched on the very edge of the mattress).

I like that I am not required to pretend to care about sporting events.

I like that I can come home on time... or not... as long as Bean is taken care of and the cats are fed.

I like that (unless I decide I require a "plus one") I can RSVP to any party, event, dinner or gathering without consulting anyone else.

I like that I can have a party, event, dinner or gathering at my house without consulting anyone else.

I could continue...

Good Weekend...

There is an "excessive heat warning" in effect until tomorrow night.
Guess who won't be mowing tonight!

Last week was a bad week... just when I think I have this grief thing figured out something else pops up. Like Whack-a-Mole.
This weekend was actually pretty good.

Friday:
I took Bean and Lara's older two girls to Watermark for the Breaking Dawn release party. They went as vampires, and thanks to Lara's extensive stage make-up collection looked pretty un-dead! Andie stayed to keep me company and we invited another mom to sit with us while her daughter ran around with my girls. It was great fun.
Then we went to mom's house for a midnight swim. The girls swam anyway, I talked to my brother and his girlfriend for hours... and finally took myself to bed around 4:30.
I wore make-up Friday night - which is very unusual for me - and even though I washed my face before I went to bed I woke up looking like I had been attacked by Amy Winehouse's make-up crew. Not a good look. And since I'd had very little sleep and had been smoking with my brother in the back yard I sort of felt like I had spent the night clubbing.

Saturday:
I had a funeral to go to... my first since Jeff's. It was for the mother of a woman I know from the station... she was 98. I did OK at first, but then they played some Irish music and I cried a lot from then on. Thanks to my pal Xanax I managed not to cry in big, loud sobs - but kept it to quiet but constant tears.
It was embarrassing. I mean, yes, it's a funeral and people cry at funerals, but crying more than the family when you didn't really know the person is sort of like wearing white to a wedding you're crashing.
Then I went to my "happy place." (I love you, Twist!)
My favorite baby-lesbian was there. She's finally realized that she is, in fact, gay. The last time we talked she said she thought she might be, but wasn't sure if she was gay of bi- or what. I told her not to rush into any labels (or relationships). I admire her strength... to make the decision at 16 NOT to hide who she knows she is... Wow. I wish I had some of that strength at 20, let alone at 16. She does not have a girlfriend - and seems perfectly happy to just be who she is without anyone else. I LOVE this kid.

Jess and her mom came in - her mom wanted to learn the 2-at-once socks, so I spent most of the afternoon on that... then Sally showed up in time for movie night (The Full Monty) and we ate movie candy and knitted. It was a very nice afternoon.

On the way home I had one of my sudden panicky fits of crying so Xanax and I took a book to bed and slept and slept and slept. I think that the weight of last week combined with the Irish funeral were just too much for me.

Sunday:
That Bad Bad Man came to cook for (with) me again. And Andie and Sally came over for that. I forget how much I like to cook... especially with someone else around... and his knife skills are very handy. He made honey ginger glazed pork and I made garlic mashed potatoes and apple pie. After dinner he read and we knitted. After Andie and Sally left we sat in the den and both read for awhile. It was such a nice day... the cooking and the conversation and the food and the relaxing.
Sigh.