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Archive for the ‘Talking To Hear My Head Rattle’ Category

This: I got the dang root canal started yesterday.  Dr. W. got me good and numbed, so I only felt a very little pain just a couple of times.  And it took hours for the numb to wear off, although the pain in the tooth started while the rest of my face was still so numb that I was drooling.  Last night was unpleasant, to say the least. I made scrambled eggs and toast for dinner (my smaller tummy ate a little egg and half a piece of toast), and I will confess to splurging on a slice of carrot cake, although I won’t be doing that again. I have to go back in a week or so so that they can make sure all of the infection is completely gone, and then he’ll finish it.  I bought the pilot episode for the Stargate series, so I put that on last night to try to take my mind off the misery.  Joe looked at me, and wanted to know if I was eating too much.  I said no, and asked why he thought that.  Apparently in my lack of comfort, I was kicking back and letting it all hang out.  And when I’m letting it all hang out, I resemble Buddha. So I guess I had that going on last night in addition to the pain in my mouth.

That: I was dreaming last night that in the course of 5 or 10 minutes, I ate all of the icing, the filling, and the top layer of a layer cake. Is it because I felt guilty over the slice of carrot cake I had last night? Because trust me when I tell you there is no way I could eat more than a smallish piece of cake, much less an entire layer and a gallon of frosting. And speaking of frosting, in the dream I commented to myself that I’d have been better off buying a can of frosting and eating it. Not only that, but in the dream I remember looking at all of the cakes, and almost picking up a small cake, but then bought the full size layer cake. Cuh-razy, no?

The Other: I’m wearing a dress today. I never wear dresses to work, and for good reason–our dress code is business casual, with emphasis on the casual. But I think my jeggings are in the wash, and the jeans I wore yesterday are so baggy they are having trouble staying up, and I got a really cute new dress so I figured what the hey.  Well, I always used to wear dresses that hit mid-shin, and this one is about knee-length. It’s a faux wrap dress, with shirring across the front, that makes me look as if I have a figure. I like that. And with Catherine making it acceptable once more to wear nylons, my legs look better than if I were going bare-legged. Which I wouldn’t, because my legs are white, white, white. I mean glow-in-the-dark white. White. Ghostly white. Pale, in fact, beyond the pale. Got it? Okay.  I’m also wearing a pair of heels I bought at Payless because all of my lovely gorgeous sexy heels are at the house and I haven’t been permitted yet to remove them, and don’t know if I will. So I’m feeling rather self conscious today. Every time I get up to go to the restroom or the break room for ice, I am vividly aware of my high heels and bare (except for nylons) legs. Honestly–I couldn’t tell you the last time I wore a dress this short. Maybe I was 12 or 13? It’s been a while. So I’ve got legs. And they’re rather shapely, despite being far larger than I want them to be. 

So there you have it. This, that, and the other (which is what my mom always said when we were out running errands when I was a kid, unless she said we were going hither, thither, and yon.  My mom is a wee titch poetic.)

You may now return to your regularly scheduled day. I hope it’s a good one.

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It does appear as though the direction we’re taking is rebuilding the house. Joe was there yesterday evening with the adjusters and mooring company, and they’re going to be gutting the house either tomorrow or Monday. And instead of it taking 2-3 months, as they originally estimated, it’s now looking more like 4-5 months. In other words, we’ll be lucky to be home by Christmas.

Joe got my wedding ring out for me, as it had been left in my jewelry armoire that will have to be replaced. And he got SGB’s manuscript off my brand new dresser that will have to be replaced. Are you sensing a theme here? Yes, the furniture is going to have to go. Even the brand new stuff that we got last Saturday. Less than a week ago, it was, and yet it seems a lifetime.

On the positive side: the hotel is just 10 minutes from my office. I can only hope the apartment they put us into next will be as close. Another perk of being in the hotel: free breakfast. Someone else doing the linens and making the beds. Clean towels every day. That’s good, right? And we get to have the dogs with us. (Poor babies–they’re so discombobulated they don’t know what to make of things. And how do you explain it to them? I’ve tried, but you know, they’re dogs, probably not understanding anything I say.)

Other positives: I get to go buy new clothes. And shoes. And at least one more handbag. My house on the inside will be all new. I get to buy new furniture. Yes, I’ve already started looking. (Hey! Stop laughing! Yeah, it may be 4 or 5 months until I get to go buy that new furniture, but if I start looking now, I’ll have a good idea what I want and where to find it when the time comes.) And new makeup. Sephora, here I come! And a new piano.

It’s just that when you try to sit down and think of everything that you’ve lost, it can be very overwhelming. I was making lists yesterday, and they only covered the bare minimum of what was in any given room. All my junk jewelry–cheaper to replace than to try to clean. The 3 or 4 fascinators I never got to wear–will the smoke smell ever come out of them? A basketful of scarves. My books. Notes from my Shakespeare & Chaucer classes (just in case I ever decide to teach English). Journals. Blank books. Note cards, stationery, books where I’ve scribbled down favourite recipes. Cookbooks. Beautiful leather-bound very expensive books about the Crusades and various medieval writers. All my numerous copies of The Canterbury Tales. Notes from my Dante class. My grandmother’s journals (which I devoutly hope are in our storage unit but I’m afraid they might not be). Photographs. Holiday decorations. Mostly things that others would attach no value to, but to me are priceless. The clothes that I was planning to pass along to the incomparable Izzybella or Sarah-bear. The clothes I’ve been saving as I’m on my journey to smaller sizes.  All my beautiful shoes–the cream brocade grannie boots, the black lace guess do-me heels, my bitch boots, all the wedges and heels I’ve been purchasing over the last 6 months or so. And my handbags–most of them comparatively inexpensive, but still hard to replace.

Heck, even my bathroom scale! I don’t know how I’m doing weight-wise, because I haven’t been able to weigh myself since last Sunday morning! I know I’ve been doing some stress eating, but compared to what it would have been pre-banding, it’s absolutely nothing. But I like seeing the numbers on the scale every day. It keeps me focused.

The ugliest bridesmaid dress ever, that I was going to take to the cleaners and then sell on e-bay. Now I guess I’ll just stomp on it and let it be thrown away. The most beautiful formal that Izzybella got some years ago, and that I swore I would someday wear. The baby christening gown and blanket made by my grandmother years ago, that I was planning to pass down to my niece when she’s old enough to have children, that my stepsister’s daughter was blessed in, that Izzybella was blessed in. That I won’t throw away, of course. I will make every effort to have it restored because that, too, is priceless.

And the most treasured things of all are the memories. Memories of Molly, when we first brought her home, with her adorable afro, lying on the floor doing the Molly Flop. Stan gnawing my shoe that was bigger than he was. Molly burying full bags of Joe’s Christmas candy in the back yard. Chase putting on Joe’s heavy gloves and heading for the fireplace, startled when he was stopped, and explained, “I Joe!” Chase seeing me pour out the dregs of a milk carton for his brother, and started bellowing, “Milk! Milk!” and not calming down until he saw me take a full milk carton out of the refrigerator. Alannah and Kyle climbing the tree in our back yard. Chase wandering around nakey after his baby pool-soaked diaper fell off. Christmas Eves with Ben & Janine and their kids. Clover coming to give me a shot in the butt when I was doing IVF trying to have kids. Danny and I, staying up all night after watching Blair Witch Project because we were too spooked to turn the lights off. Crying my heart out in the long days after the IVF failed. Molly peeing on an area rug right after we told Joe’s friends from Australia that she was a good dog and never tinkled in the house. Christmas after Christmas after Christmas. Joe making huge pots of mashed potatoes for Christmas dinner. Joe making huge pots of mashed potatoes for the two of us, and danged if we didn’t manage to eat every bite. Molly being incensed at Mom’s being allowed in the then-yellow room, when she wasn’t, and defiantly going in there to tinkle the day Mom left. The bathroom door constantly coming out of its hinges. That Christmas morning when I sent Molly in to wake up Izzybella, and she enthusiastically complied, jumping onto Izzy’s stomach and kissing her face. The day I drop-kicked a multi-pack of Wolf chili because I was in a snit, and dang near broke my toe. Joe playing guitar so loudly that I could hear it from the inside of my car as I pulled into the driveway. MoMeNTuM meetings. Jehara bringing me my beautiful awesome wonderful zen box that’s now smoked out. Dancing in the living room with Joe. Dancing in the living room with Molly. Having Molly join me when I was practicing yoga in the living room. Spending three months sleeping on the recliner in the living room after having had knee replacement surgery. Laughter, tears, arguments, hugs, kisses, joy, sorrow–the soon-to-be-torn-down walls of our home are replete with the emotions and events from the past 13 years. Those things can’t be replaced. But the new walls will be erected, and in 13 years, we’ll have 13 years worth of memories to look back on.

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How do you typically dress to run errands? Do you think bloggers dress better or worse than “regular people”?

 

I have to look good whenever I leave the house. I’m lazy about wearing makeup, but I think I make up for it with my clothes and handbags.  Like Saturday, f’rinstance. I wore a really cute tunic with a pair of skinny jeans that are rapidly becoming too loose on me (see Lessons Learned the Hard Way, Part 914 for further details).

I’ve never felt comfortable wearing manky clothes, although I will wear them if I’m cleaning house (which means I virtually never wear them, but let’s not go there) just because I hate getting bleach or dirt or splashing cleaning solutions all over my good shirts. Once in a very long while I’ll make a Sonic run with my manky clothes on, but that’s because I never have to get out of the car so no one will see me except the car hop, who doesn’t care what I’m wearing as long as I give a nice little tip. Which I sometimes do, and sometimes don’t, because they don’t have a tip line on the credit card receipt, and it annoys me having to tip them because I’m sure they’re getting a decent wage but if it’s really hot or if it’s really cold, I’ll give a nice little tip anyway just because it’s such awful weather. Which has nothing to do with my appearance, but there you go.

As far as how bloggers dress, I figure they wear what’s comfortable and what they like. And they should so totally go for it!

 

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I’m doing better today, which is nice. I hate feeling sick and tend to get rather whiney about it.

Still have lots to do, especially due to getting behinder than I already was thanks to feeling puny for a couple of days, so it should be a very busy weekend.

Thanks for the good thoughts. 🙂

In other fronts, remember when I said I was going to go for several months without buying new shoes?  Um, I’ve already bought 2 or 3 pairs since then and show no signs of stopping. Like, I got a $10 coupon from DSW, and when I got there they were giving something like 500 bonus points if you bought certain brands of shoes. And Madden Girl was one of the brands, and I had my eye on a particular pair anyway, so it would have just been silly not to buy them. And I found some great fuschia pumps at Marshall’s for only $20, and they totally rock, so it would have just been silly not to buy them.  As soon as my husband gets home with the camera, I shall declare a shoe week and post photos of all of my lovely, lovely shoes. Although considering how many I have, it may have to be a shoe fortnight.

Hi. My name is Faith, and I’m a shoe-a-holic.

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I saw this at Pop Sensation, and decided to play along, since it’s a slow day today.

If your life were a movie, what would the soundtrack be?

1. Open your music library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc).
2. Put it on shuffle.
3. Press play.
4. For every category (see below), type the song that’s playing.
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button.
6. Don’t lie and try to pretend you’re cool.

Here are the categories, and my results / responses:

Opening credits: Our Last Summer – Mamma Mia! soundtrack.  Starting off with nostalgia? Doesn’t that seem a little, well, odd? Of course, it could be argued that I’m a little (or a lot) odd, so perhaps it all fits.

Waking up: Indian Reservation – Paul Revere & The Raiders. Well, I am part Cherokee. And I can be pretty foul-tempered sometimes in the mornings, although I’ll never match up to the Incomparable Izzybella, who once slugged our brother’s friend when he dared to say “good morning, sunshine” on the first day of school.

[apparently we flash back to my childhood now…]

First day of school: Seasons of Love – Original Broadway Cast Recording, Rent. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes, how do you measure a year? In being a suck-up to the teachers, in getting bullied by the people who hated suck-ups, in either being crazy about doing homework or totally avoiding it, in coming up with incredibly creative ways to deal with punishments meted out by teachers. Ah, school.

Falling in love: San Francisco – The Weepies. “I’m gonna stay high, lie low.” It’s a love song of sorts, so I guess it works here. Not what I would have chosen, of course.

First love song: The Luckiest – Ben Folds.  Awww! I love this song! “I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.” I love Ben Folds’s cussing songs, and I love the sweet, tender way he does this one.

Breaking up – I’m the Only One – Melissa Etheridge.  You stupid git! You’re breaking up with me, when I’m the only one who’d walk across a fire for you! Or is that why you’re breaking up, ’cause I’m crazy enough to walk across a fire? Okay, seriously, I never walked across a fire, but I did once break a board with my hand. No kidding! It was fun! And if you ever break up with me again, I’ll do it again! (breathes heavily) Okay. I’m calm now.

Prom – I Want to Be Alone – Green Day. I didn’t really have a boyfriend then. I had a huge crush on the guy I invited to prom, and we had a so-so time. (He went to another school, which is why I invited him, instead of waiting to be invited.) He was a sweetie, of course, but he in turn had a huge crush on one of our mutual friends. It was a little bizarre. But then, much of my life is. Bizarre, I mean, and not in a small way. But I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to have the prom experience that everyone assured me was an essential part of growing up.

Mental breakdown – Star Dust – Louis Armstrong Orchestra. This jazzy instrumental doesn’t remind me at all of a mental breakdown. It’s so nice and upbeat. How about we reverse this one with the prom song, and then you’d totally have it right.

Driving – Stop Thinking About It – Joe Ramone.  “Nothing lasts forever and nothing stays the same.” So you may as well drive since everything’s going to change.

Flashback – Hotel Song – Regina Spektor. “Come in, come in, come into my world I’ve to to show, show show you.” With dreams of orca whales and owls, this could lead to a fantastic flashback. I used to have an enormous poster of a humpback whale in my office at the University of Utah. It freaked me, to be honest. It was so enormous, and it made me feel small and insignificant.

Getting back together – Mama Tried – Randy Travis (or, as my husband calls him, Randy Travers).  “I turned 21 in prison, doing life without parole.” Um, no. Not really. Well, the life without parole part, sure, if you look at life as a prison sentence. But not literally. Not stone walls and iron bars prison.

Wedding – Eskimo – Damien Rice. “I look to my Eskimo friend when I’m down, down, down.”  Not very weddingish, is it, unless your spouse is an Eskimo. Mine’s not. Mine’s a Polish Yankee. Of course, “our song” is Proud Mary (the CCR version, not the Tina Turner version), so who am I to complain about this song?

Birth of child – Paper Moon – Erin McKeown.  This is my favourite version of another song I’ve loved for years. “It’s only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea. But it wouldn’t be make-believe if you were here with me.” Yeah, that’s a good way to describe my feelings about my children, since they’re not here.

Final battle – The Mummers’ Dance – Loreena McKennitt. “And so they linked their hands and danced Round in circles and in rows And so the journey of the night descends When all the shades are gone.” I guess that means I won my final battle, which is nice.

Death scene – Bad Dreams – Joni Mitchell. I like the song, but I don’t think it particularly fits my death scene. Doesn’t work for me, really. “Bad dreams are good In the great plan.”

Funeral song – Do You Realize?? – The Flaming Lips. Okay, now this one is a cool funeral song. “And instead of saying all of your goodbyes – let them know You realize that life goes fast It’s hard to make the good things last You realize the sun doesn’t go down It’s just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.”

End credits – Lie Lie Lie Lie – Chumbawamba. “Your life is a dream, and then you wake up.” Cool! That’s sort of how I think of life, sometimes, as a dream and one of these days I’ll wake up and life will be something altogether different.

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Only the saddle is my office chair, and the wide open view consists of the 4 walls of my office and the coffee area just outside my door, and I’m still having to blow my nose 20 times an hour.

What, you might wonder, felled this mighty warrior of words? What cut her down and condemned her to 4 days in bed?  It was the common cold.

Although I don’t think there’s anything particularly common about a cold. This one started with an uncommonly painful 2-day sore throat, such a bad one that by Thursday (the first day I stayed home), I couldn’t talk. That meant, of course, that Joe called me every few hours just to chat.  I also had uncommonly uncomfortable leg aches on Thursday night. I was worried I was headed for a bout of influenza, so I was relieved (ha!) that it was just a cold. I was uncommonly congested, and my ears were uncommonly stuffed up (I don’t know why I say they “were” stuffed up, as they still are). But Mucinex and Nyquil got me through it. I’m still snotty (in the mucousy way, not the bit-cah way), and I’d dearly love to be in bed sleeping. However, I doubt I’m still contagious and I needed to be back at work today.

And what, you might ask, did I do to amuse myself while I was at home, sick and miserable?

Well, go ahead and ask. I don’t mind. Tra la la la la.

Okay. Since you were so kind as to ask, I slept rather a lot. I Twittered a bit. I watched a variety of British mysteries courtesy of Netflix–I love their watch instantly thingamabob. I got to enjoy a sight of the young James McAvoy in an Inspector Lynley mystery. I griped silently, because my throat hurt too much to gripe aloud. And then Saturday evening, feeling a bit better but not enough to do anything productive, and having watched all the Roderick Alleyn mysteries and all the Inspector Lynley mysteries and all the Lady Bradley mysteries that were available to watch instantly, and not in the mood for Dexter, I decided to watch an episode of Doctor Who.

I’ve never watched Doctor Who before. And the episode I chose to watch was complete bosh. Horrible, I tells ya! Absolutely awful! And I was just about to turn it off after laughing myself silly (in a hoarse voice because of the cold), when Joe walked into the room and told me that I was watching the wrong Doctor. Because apparently there were a lot of Doctors. So we turned to Wikipedia and found his favourite Doctor, and I watched all but the first two episodes of Season 16 (I think.) And then I did some Googling and Wiki-ing, and saw that there was a new Doctor that started a few years ago. I watched the first three episodes of that incarnation, and really liked them, and then it was 3 a.m. on Sunday and I really needed some sleep. When I woke back up, I vowed that I was going to watch the rest of that season. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending upon one’s perspective, not all the episodes of that season were available to watch instantly, so I was able to achieve my objective. Holy cow! That’s a really good show! Joe’s favourite doctor remains Tom Bradley, but I seriously have a thing for Christopher Eccleston (the 9th doctor). He has this great grin of excited anticipation as he watches things unfold.

Okay. Enough. Cool down, Faith.

Sorry about that. Anyway, that’s my grand and glorious weekend. (Oh, I did manage to read 4 or 5 books on Saturday afternoon while it was raining and Joe was napping, and we didn’t have much rain at all from Ike, despite Joe’s frenetic preparations, and both dogs are well although Scout keeps using the inside of the house as his personal toilet.) I hope you all had great weekends as well.  And please, stay away from the uncommon cold. It’s so not fun. But if you do get sick, and you have Netflix, do yourself a favour and spend some time with the Doctor.

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Oh grave, where is thy victory?

Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

Only a wee titch of drama around here. Joe was supposed to take the Grey Lady to the shop yesterday; I haven’t been able to get her started. So I call him at 1 to remind him he was to be there at 1:30. He calls back about 1:30 wondering if I’d seen his keys. I said no, and told him to keep looking for them. I said a prayer. Now you’ve got to understand this; usually when something’s lost, I say a prayer and we find it almost immediately. So I honestly didn’t think much about it again. Then I called him about 3:45 to find out if he had any news on the car, and he hadn’t gone because he still hadn’t found his keys. We tore the place apart last night looking for those dang keys. Now the keys themselves aren’t that big a deal–I can (and will) get duplicates made–but he used as a key chain the collar and tag of our first dog, Stan. So he was heartbroken about losing that. I’m not without hope that they’ll turn up in some exceedingly bizarre place.

And he had to leave today for Minnesota. Usually on flight days we get up at 5:30 and leave at 6. That gives me time to get him to the airport and get to work on time (actually 15 minutes early, which is how I like it). As we got onto the freeway, we saw that there was an accident at the intersection just past our house. As we passed said exit, he suddenly panicked. He’d forgotten his phone. That’s important enough that we had to turn around and go back home. I was 10 minutes late to work, but he was able to get on his plane. He’ll be back for the weekend before leaving for San Francisco next week.

Last night he made his famous mashed potatoes, and I have a nice lovely bowlful in the refrigerator. The question is not whether I will eat them, but rather will I be good and have a chicken breast and some veggies along with them and make them last two days, or whether I will just sit down and have a bowl of mashed potatoes for dinner.  Frankly, I’m inclined toward the latter option.  Fiber schmiber. I can always have a bowl of All-Bran before bedtime.

Still on the Dorothy L. Sayers kick; last night we watched Strong Poison. The actor who plays Harriet Vane reminds us both very strongly of Keira Knightly, so I imdb’d her and was interested to see that she’d played Knightly’s mother in Atonement.

Oh, I didn’t even say much about the new furniture, did I? Shame on me! Our new bedroom furniture was delivered last weekend. I can’t post pictures yet because Izzy still has my camera, but the bedroom looks so nice and warm and cozy now. The bed’s high enough that Molly can’t jump up onto it, so we got some steps. She’s afraid of them and won’t use them, but Scout does, which saves his back a bit. So last night I picked Molly up and put her onto the bed, and we all snuggled up together to watch the show. If anyone has any ideas how to teach a recalcitrant border collie to use the steps to get onto the bed, I’d appreciate hearing about them. We tried treats and coaxing and demonstrating. At one point we got her to put her two front paws on the middle step, but she would go no further.

I have a rip-roaring sore throat. It started yesterday about 3:00. I’ll run out to the drugstore during my lunch break and get some lozenges. The ones I have at work don’t do that great a job at numbing the pain, and they taste absolutely disgusting.

Hey, go send Chicory some love if you get a moment. She’s having her gall bladder out tomorrow. K THX BAI.

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