Well, I feel loved. Best thing to feel at this particular time of year, and I feel it. As a good old friend of my family would say, "Shight-Howdy, it's enough to make your big toes wiggle!"
And then we'd all laugh, and she'd look at us and say, "Haven't y'all heard that expression before??" As if WE are the weirdos. This year, my immediate family (me and the 'rents) decided to do JUST STOCKINGS, and look at our traditions to figure out which ones are actually special so we can pay more attention when we do them. And it was really one of the best Christmases we've had-- even Papa thought so.
We made Welsh Pasties (HEAVEN IS WAITING IN MY FREEZER!!!), and Ottonian Sour Cream Cookies (They aren't waiting because I already ate them. All of them.), and eggs on toast. I ran into another one of those situations (I run into these a lot) where two different phrases mean the exact same thing, but I didn't know that, and worked really hard to remember the ONE phrase, so when somebody used the OTHER PHRASE, I had no fugging clue what they were talking about. And how silly is that-- because it was the phrase, "fried eggs."
I mean, I've seen it. I always figured I wouldn't like it because I didn't know what it was. Tells you a lot about my relationship to food, doesn't it. My mom didn't cook those, she made me over-hard eggs in a frying pan, and scrambled eggs. But we don't fry ANYTHING in my family, so I KNEW I'd never had "fried eggs." I was actually shocked that my mom would offer me one-- and on Christmas morning, too!! ... And then she gave me that look. That "you've been drinking out of the stupid jar again, haven't you" look. The one that says she thinks I'm intentionally tormenting her by playing dumb, and she is really not happy with me about it.
I guess the good news is she thinks I'm smart enough to know that "fried eggs" are the eggs you cook in a frying pan-- you know, like over-hard eggs, for example. The bad news is, I really didn't know. You have to understand. When I was little, we didn't eat like everybody else, and mom cooked just about everything from scratch. I thought everybody had vegetarian tomato pasta sauce with beans in it. So she knew what I liked, and I knew what she cooked, and if she asked if I wanted eggs, I knew they'd be scrambled. Or she'd let me cut off the whites and just eat those, since I didn't like the yolks. Even when they weren't the consistency of weird yellow-orange mucus.
So then we'd go to a restaurant, and mom would have to translate everything on the menu for me. What sort of eggs are "over easy" eggs? Do I like those? What is French Toast? You mean it's that weird dry bread you coat with egg and then put syrup on? Eww! (FYI, my food repertoire of "likes" has grossly expanded since the time of which I write. I like food now.)
When, as a child, I got tired of trying to figure out egg-cooking-styles and trying to explain to the waitress what I wanted, I finally memorized two easy kinds of egg-cooking-styles that I KNEW I LIKED, and I KNEW THEY COULD COOK. And always since then, if we eat breakfast out, I ask for one of those. Eggs over-hard, or hard-scrambled. Because I'd learned that this is the most easily-understood restaurant term for the kind of eggs my mom cooked for me at home. And that is literally the extent of my egg-preparation-term repertoire. Oh, plus hardboiled. I know those from Easter. Then mom tells me --right there on Christmas morning-- that she's making "boiled eggs" for her and papa.
WTF?! Does she mean HARD boiled?? Is there any OTHER kind of boiled egg? I mean-- parents always yell at their kids for eating cookie dough with UNCOOKED EGGS in it, so... Is this another trick like the "fried eggs" situation?? sigh... I guess I must have ROLLED in stupid-juice without even noticing last night, because apparently I reek of it. Just look at her scrunched up face when I ask for clarification on THAT one!!
See, fancy literature and books about dragons rarely describe cooked eggs in both visual and restaurantees terms enough to picture what is what-- so eggs are not among the information and vocabulary and phrases that I gleaned from said "literature." I may have told my dad as a pre-pubescent teen that "my cup runeth over" when he gave me too much milk once-- and known both the literal and the poetic meanings of the phrase used... but what has THAT got to do with the price of EGGS?!
Ahem-- so anyway, I felt loved this holiday season. And I was able to hi-jack my friend's car with the walnut-studded tires and the cold weather engine starter and the eco-diesel green gas juice and all, and drive IT through the frozen and bumpy wasteland of insane Christmas-Eve highway drivers to my parents' house so I COULD bake cookies and pasties and eggs with them. It was wonderful.
I also got phone calls from several friends to make sure I arrived there safely, or was doing okay with all the insane snow we received. Can you believe we had a WHITE CHRISTMAS on the west coast? When has THAT happened before?! Even weirder than fried eggs, I tell you! And I'm about to head over to check my mail. There may be Christmas Cards I don't know about. It's been almost two weeks since I could get close enough to the post office to park my car and go in.
And then on Sunday, my extended West Coast Family all mustered together and celebrated, and shared "extended family love" with the little kids. It was the start of another great Christmas tradition that we all want to remember for next year, too. Not quite as grand as the ones we used to have back east (50 people, lots of excellent insanity), but still... And that reminds me-- I've got cheese in my backpack, and it really ought to be put in the fridge here soon.
Merry Everything, and many happy returns of it all to you and yours.
Or, as my family probably will say after they read about the eggs,
"Here's egg in your face!" Which I know is a quote, but have NO idea where it came from. And I'm actually okay with that. Really.
Tuesday, December 30
Monday, December 15
The French Translation
Things that mean something, a biographical list of one-liners from breakfast with Big D:
- It'd be nice to date someone intelligent AND funny, you know?
- So, how long have you been a looser?
- Um, no. Actually, I didn't learn that from my grandmother. It's all me.
- Well, I'm just known as "That guy who eats salad for lunch," so they don't think I'm a homo at work-- but there's this other guy who started trying to eat healthy lunches after he'd been there for a while, and it was like, "Man let me show you some tits so you can get over this and eat man-food again."
- Actually, nobody takes you seriously because we know you really DO mean the outrageous things you say.
- God, this sounds retarded; I met her on Facebook.
- Liquid chalk? Actually, I think pole dancers WANT to be able to slide around some...
- He's an ambulance driver with a Master's Degree in Art Criticism. And he eats salads for lunch, too. I just feel compelled to call him my partner-- but only at work!
- Well, actually, I AM a librarian. Explains the ice cube in my hot coco, doesn't it?
- Boy, watching you eat takes me right back to when we were kids.
- I meant to do that.
- When is your Christmas Present officially "late" this year?
- It's like free therapy. Especially when I tell them stories about my marriage. And they tell me, "Gosh. I always wondered how somebody could be stupid enough to end up in that situation. Now I know." At least I get to hear it from my editors before I hear it from everybody else.
- Imagine Jean Claud Van Dam playing himself. He's actually a sad, gentle little man.
- They don't look like cookie rejects to you? Well, taste one. Then you'll understand why I gave them to you.
- Boil down all the wisdom I wish I could go back and give my younger self, and you get this: Eat salad and lift weights-- the rest will take care of itself.
- You have a studded tire for your BICYCLE??
- You've just created another Vin Diesel fan, haven't you.
- Yeah, I know I need some sort of mal-practice insurance for all the great advice I keep giving everybody.
- I think Nateuropathic Medicine is when you're allergic to cats, so they make you eat cat to solve the problem.
- No, really, you WANT to hear this story about eating cat faces in China!
- Dude, people puke on me at work. You spitting when you talk is like NOTHING in comparison. Really. And then there was this guy with a dead mouse on his belly.
- Maybe I need to work on my compassion for fat people.
- ...And then I get the munchies and play stupid video games all day. What side effects do YOU get?
- "Friends with Benefits." That means "free fugck" in french, doesn't it?
Snow Daze
Holiday greetings to everyone. I'm so excited that we have SNOW just now!! How often does THAT happen in December?!
Had a great talk with my good friend SLM recently, speaking of snow. We decided that anybody who is not us should not be driving in it. Because we both learned in Michigan winters, with snow and ice and wind, oh my! And therefore, our snow driving skills are superior. Especially when you consider that most of the folks on the road in the West just now learned to drive in California.
I had breakfast with another great friend of mine-- Big D-- this morning. He rode his bike on the icy streets. I drove my light-weight no-traction-anyway little car. We figure the only thing we have in common about transportation right now is that we both get out and walk on the hills.
And, while driving (very slowly) to meet him, I saw a lot of driving that made my teeth hurt. Idiots thinking that because they drive a truck with big-ass wheels, ice does not affect them. People who drove nice and slow and safe while moving, but didn't give themselves enough time to stop the vehicle (and thus went straight through the red light while the rest of us who DID manage to stop safely just watch them slide past). You know you're in the Pacific Northwest when the folks who accidentally slide through an intersection on a red light wave their thanks to the cars on either side for not hitting them. In Chicago, the fugcker flying through on the red just flips everyone else off on his way past.
Anyway, back to the great conversation I had with my friend SLM. We also came up with yet another awesome word to add to my personal vocabulary list: passenjerk. Because we've both had the misfortune to be stuck driving some fool and his opinions around in our cars. In fact, my X used to get more angry at me and be a bigger jerk toward me when we were driving than at most other times (there are exceptions). I think it was because he knew I couldn't escape at those times. Sad but true. If you're going to have a big-angry or difficult discussion? Don't do it while one of you is driving. Please. And make sure your breaks are working well beforehand. Trust me.
In the meantime, I'm really enjoying the wind and the white and the sparkly silence that come with winter weather here. Even the sun is more exciting when it snows beforehand. So, as I've been saying to my clients and friends alike: Happy Everything!!
Had a great talk with my good friend SLM recently, speaking of snow. We decided that anybody who is not us should not be driving in it. Because we both learned in Michigan winters, with snow and ice and wind, oh my! And therefore, our snow driving skills are superior. Especially when you consider that most of the folks on the road in the West just now learned to drive in California.
I had breakfast with another great friend of mine-- Big D-- this morning. He rode his bike on the icy streets. I drove my light-weight no-traction-anyway little car. We figure the only thing we have in common about transportation right now is that we both get out and walk on the hills.
And, while driving (very slowly) to meet him, I saw a lot of driving that made my teeth hurt. Idiots thinking that because they drive a truck with big-ass wheels, ice does not affect them. People who drove nice and slow and safe while moving, but didn't give themselves enough time to stop the vehicle (and thus went straight through the red light while the rest of us who DID manage to stop safely just watch them slide past). You know you're in the Pacific Northwest when the folks who accidentally slide through an intersection on a red light wave their thanks to the cars on either side for not hitting them. In Chicago, the fugcker flying through on the red just flips everyone else off on his way past.
Anyway, back to the great conversation I had with my friend SLM. We also came up with yet another awesome word to add to my personal vocabulary list: passenjerk. Because we've both had the misfortune to be stuck driving some fool and his opinions around in our cars. In fact, my X used to get more angry at me and be a bigger jerk toward me when we were driving than at most other times (there are exceptions). I think it was because he knew I couldn't escape at those times. Sad but true. If you're going to have a big-angry or difficult discussion? Don't do it while one of you is driving. Please. And make sure your breaks are working well beforehand. Trust me.
In the meantime, I'm really enjoying the wind and the white and the sparkly silence that come with winter weather here. Even the sun is more exciting when it snows beforehand. So, as I've been saying to my clients and friends alike: Happy Everything!!
Sunday, December 7
Waiting for Forgiveness
I've been ill the last week. I'm definitely getting better, but it's been eight days since I could say I really felt functional. And I've still got an overabundance of green snot.
Eww!
Those eight days covered the first of the month-- the day I have not one but three rent checks due. Rent for my storage space. Rent for my office. Rent for my apartment. Friday was the day after thanksgiving. I had big plans to get a few of those rent payments made then-- the 30th of November. But I stayed overnight with family in another town, and had about an hour of time at home-- frantically unpacking, repacking, petting grumpy cats, feeding hungry cats, feeding hungry me, trying to get my contacts to function in my eyes, and on and on like that-- before I got back in the car and drove another two hours to my next big holiday gathering of the weekend.
The rent didn't get paid.
Monday was the first. By Sunday, I knew I was sick. I didn't leave my bed much. I think I made it downstairs for food once or twice. Oh, on Monday I did drive out to the storage unit to make that payment. It was a painful trip, but I needed another couple boxes of kleenex, so I made it happen. I had a client planned for Tuesday-- I thought I'd pay rent when I went to the office then. By Monday night, I called my clients for Tuesday AND Wednesday-- to reschedule. I was that sick.
My Thursday client called to reschedule, too. She is on meds that repress her immuno system. Neither of us wanted her to get sick. So I didn't get into the office on that day either. That night, I realized too late to call my office landlord that I never did let her know what was going on with the rent check. That it was really late now. And I felt like shit.
In the midst of that thought process, as if I thought of it because she thought of it-- she called to ask me what was going on with the rent check. I never wanted her to have to do that. And I felt shitty about not getting it to her on time. Shitty that I was relying on her goodness of heart to not charge me tons of late fees, and for it to be okay that I just was too sick to remember to pay her somehow.
So I called back, but she didn't answer. And I've left her a payment-- and called twice a day since Thursday for one reason or another. And she hasn't answered any of my calls, nor returned any of my messages. I'm being a pest, and I know it. But I made a mistake. And I feel bad. And I want her to tell me that it's okay. That things like this happen, and it isn't a big deal. I want her to forgive me so that I can forgive myself.
Intellectually, I know my landlord probably wouldn't have cashed the check by now anyway-- but we have a contract, and I broke it. I broke it enough that she had to follow up with me about it-- and I didn't follow up with her first. I left her a check on Friday-- the fifth of the month.
The worst part is that I actually tried to take care of myself on Saturday. To sleep enough to finally get well-- and I slept long enough that I totally missed going to the bank before it closed to deposit money to COVER the checks I wrote for rent. I hate being in debt. I hate being afraid of writing checks and buying food on credit. And right now, I can't even find someone to buy my car for it's actual kelly-blue-book value. I find myself praying that the auto-payment on the car loan won't come out until Tuesday-- after I've had a chance to put money I don't have in the bank.
I know the world is in recession. I know everyone around me is feeling the pinch. I saw it all coming early enough to have done something about it, too. But somehow, doing everything I could wasn't enough, or wasn't the right thing at the right time. Somehow, here I am in as big a mess as everybody else, with student loans and car loans and credit card loans and family loans to pay off, and a new business to get off the ground... and no income.
I know that part of why that payment was late is that I spent the week hoping for a miracle. Hoping for enough clients to have appointments and pay me for them that I'd have money in the bank to cover my expenses. And someday, I know I will. I love what I do, and it's important and valuable work. The clients I do have love my services and return as often as they can. It's a huge compliment. Exciting.
But as yet, it hasn't covered my bills. So I'm downsizing. Trying to clear out my storage unit. Trying to sell my car. Trying to live on what money my business DOES bring in. Daydreaming of a time when I can build my own home, and include space for renters, maybe even space to see clients there, so that all my income doesn't come from one place. So that I can start to put money away for retirement. So that my lifestyle really does support Mother Earth.
Because the home I want to build will be insulated enough to keep out summer heat and keep in winter warmth with only the help of a zero-emission masonry fireplace. A home that collects rainwater for household use, and reuses/harvests gray water in sustainable ways. A home that I feel safe sleeping in at night, and that has spaces for me to welcome friends for a visit now and then. And a root cellar to store foods away, so that I can spend my money on local farmers and in-season produce, and benefit year-round from having done so. Maybe even find time for a garden of my own. And grow my own herbs for the healing teas and tonics and ointments that I make.
Maybe then I'll finally feel like I've managed right-living with the Earth. Maybe by the time I do all that, I'll even be able to afford health insurance again. I'd like that. It's been a few years since I had any, or dental, or eye. And my teeth could use a good cleaning.
But for now I wait. And hope that by the time I act, it won't be too late for the Earth and all her children to forgive me for not having acted sooner. For squandering her resources and mine-- back when I didn't realize there weren't any more resources coming to fill those now-empty mines and forest lands and bank accounts...
I hate waiting.
Eww!
Those eight days covered the first of the month-- the day I have not one but three rent checks due. Rent for my storage space. Rent for my office. Rent for my apartment. Friday was the day after thanksgiving. I had big plans to get a few of those rent payments made then-- the 30th of November. But I stayed overnight with family in another town, and had about an hour of time at home-- frantically unpacking, repacking, petting grumpy cats, feeding hungry cats, feeding hungry me, trying to get my contacts to function in my eyes, and on and on like that-- before I got back in the car and drove another two hours to my next big holiday gathering of the weekend.
The rent didn't get paid.
Monday was the first. By Sunday, I knew I was sick. I didn't leave my bed much. I think I made it downstairs for food once or twice. Oh, on Monday I did drive out to the storage unit to make that payment. It was a painful trip, but I needed another couple boxes of kleenex, so I made it happen. I had a client planned for Tuesday-- I thought I'd pay rent when I went to the office then. By Monday night, I called my clients for Tuesday AND Wednesday-- to reschedule. I was that sick.
My Thursday client called to reschedule, too. She is on meds that repress her immuno system. Neither of us wanted her to get sick. So I didn't get into the office on that day either. That night, I realized too late to call my office landlord that I never did let her know what was going on with the rent check. That it was really late now. And I felt like shit.
In the midst of that thought process, as if I thought of it because she thought of it-- she called to ask me what was going on with the rent check. I never wanted her to have to do that. And I felt shitty about not getting it to her on time. Shitty that I was relying on her goodness of heart to not charge me tons of late fees, and for it to be okay that I just was too sick to remember to pay her somehow.
So I called back, but she didn't answer. And I've left her a payment-- and called twice a day since Thursday for one reason or another. And she hasn't answered any of my calls, nor returned any of my messages. I'm being a pest, and I know it. But I made a mistake. And I feel bad. And I want her to tell me that it's okay. That things like this happen, and it isn't a big deal. I want her to forgive me so that I can forgive myself.
Intellectually, I know my landlord probably wouldn't have cashed the check by now anyway-- but we have a contract, and I broke it. I broke it enough that she had to follow up with me about it-- and I didn't follow up with her first. I left her a check on Friday-- the fifth of the month.
The worst part is that I actually tried to take care of myself on Saturday. To sleep enough to finally get well-- and I slept long enough that I totally missed going to the bank before it closed to deposit money to COVER the checks I wrote for rent. I hate being in debt. I hate being afraid of writing checks and buying food on credit. And right now, I can't even find someone to buy my car for it's actual kelly-blue-book value. I find myself praying that the auto-payment on the car loan won't come out until Tuesday-- after I've had a chance to put money I don't have in the bank.
I know the world is in recession. I know everyone around me is feeling the pinch. I saw it all coming early enough to have done something about it, too. But somehow, doing everything I could wasn't enough, or wasn't the right thing at the right time. Somehow, here I am in as big a mess as everybody else, with student loans and car loans and credit card loans and family loans to pay off, and a new business to get off the ground... and no income.
I know that part of why that payment was late is that I spent the week hoping for a miracle. Hoping for enough clients to have appointments and pay me for them that I'd have money in the bank to cover my expenses. And someday, I know I will. I love what I do, and it's important and valuable work. The clients I do have love my services and return as often as they can. It's a huge compliment. Exciting.
But as yet, it hasn't covered my bills. So I'm downsizing. Trying to clear out my storage unit. Trying to sell my car. Trying to live on what money my business DOES bring in. Daydreaming of a time when I can build my own home, and include space for renters, maybe even space to see clients there, so that all my income doesn't come from one place. So that I can start to put money away for retirement. So that my lifestyle really does support Mother Earth.
Because the home I want to build will be insulated enough to keep out summer heat and keep in winter warmth with only the help of a zero-emission masonry fireplace. A home that collects rainwater for household use, and reuses/harvests gray water in sustainable ways. A home that I feel safe sleeping in at night, and that has spaces for me to welcome friends for a visit now and then. And a root cellar to store foods away, so that I can spend my money on local farmers and in-season produce, and benefit year-round from having done so. Maybe even find time for a garden of my own. And grow my own herbs for the healing teas and tonics and ointments that I make.
Maybe then I'll finally feel like I've managed right-living with the Earth. Maybe by the time I do all that, I'll even be able to afford health insurance again. I'd like that. It's been a few years since I had any, or dental, or eye. And my teeth could use a good cleaning.
But for now I wait. And hope that by the time I act, it won't be too late for the Earth and all her children to forgive me for not having acted sooner. For squandering her resources and mine-- back when I didn't realize there weren't any more resources coming to fill those now-empty mines and forest lands and bank accounts...
I hate waiting.
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