pretty things

On the way home from Mass this evening, DH asked me if the diet was making me crazy yet. I was happy that he even had to ask. No, the diet (low iodine diet, or LID) isn't making me crazy, but I still have just about no patience these days. It's a combination of three things: 1) the pending trip to Houston and the inherent (possible) horrors it will provoke 2) being on the diet and having to be much more mindful of what I eat than I usually am and 3) this persistent sinus infection that is making me feel like crap. I started on Levaquin yesterday, let's hope it knocks the infection out soon.

Anyway, one thing I did last week was put out all the pretty things I bought back East. Each one of them gives me a feeling of "home" even though home is definitely in AZ and not MA anymore -- "home" will always be near the beach. So:

These are my North Country Wind Bells, aka buoy bells. They are heavy, and not at all wind-chime-y sounding. One day last week, DS1 lay outside on the grass just listening to the bells: They sound so peaceful, he said. And they do, making me think of waves crashing and fog rolling in, but the sound of the buoy bells telling anyone out there exactly where they are.

This is my beach-in-a-bowl. There's sand from our favorite beach, and real sea shells, and glass sea shells, and my beautiful starfish from Pairpoint Glass Works. The bowl was an absolutely steal at IKEA.














I have new artwork, too. This one is tiny, and I'm not sure where it's permanent home will be. This scene is so far from the reality of life in the SouthWest, the type of thing I looked out my windows and saw during the winter months of the first 30 years of my life. It fills a hole I didn't know existed until I saw this tiny print (yes, it's really a notecard) at the gift shop at Old Newgate Prison.



This one isn't new at all. My mother bought it years ago from the Collector's Guild; it hung in my bedroom. And now it's hanging in my bedroom again. I've always loved the colors and the composition, with its dreamy river and ethereal trees. I don't know how to describe the technique other than to say that some of the foliage looks like it was stamped or printed from some intricate lace. I tried to find some information online about the artist (Rivera), but couldn't find anything... but it doesn't matter. I love this work for both nostalgic and contemporary reasons.

Last but certainly not least, my birthday present from my sister J. It's a gorgeous cultured pearl necklace with peridot chips.

It's so unlike anything else I own, but it's perfect. I wanted earrings to go with it, but no dice at Ice, where she had ordered it from... so I had my friend Lisa Maynard restring the necklace for me, harvesting the last two pearls and using them to make earrings. Here's the ensemble:
I promised J I'd take a picture of me wearing it, so she can see how absolutely smashing it is (scar? what scar?). She says peridots are for luck, and I must wear it to Houston. I will.

downer

I'm not exactly depressed, I just don't feel like doing anything. I'm simultaneously free and constrained -- a few hours here or there, then obligations that must be met. It's weird and I'm not used to it, and being on the LID is making me grumpy even though I don't feel at all hungry or deprived. I do get frustrated trying to figure out what to make for dinner, but even that is not the end of the world. I just need to get a grip.

Small things are sending me over the edge these days. For example, the pick-up routine at school has been most likely irreversibly screwed over, and it looks like I'm going to have to come up with something clever to avoid having to spend 40 minutes getting the kids every day. We'll see.

Yesterday vanished with very little accomplished, although I did catch up with two girlfriends (there went the day.) Today I took DH's car in for an oil change and brake inspection and there went two hours, and now I'm whiling away the time before I have to go pick up DS1 for his orthodontist appointment.

I don't like this purposelessness. I have to figure out something to do with myself!

Unfortunately my persistent sinus infection is getting in the way of me doing anything productive. I've accomplished a bit by puttering, but really, I know I can do more and it bothers me that I'm not. DH's advice: Get yourself a good book! In other words: relax! quit stressing yourself out!

How I love that man.

no worries

A major component of the shift I was just talking about is that DS2 is now in kindergarden. All day, because the school no longer offers half-day kindergarden, and because he was ready for it, and because there was no way I was sending him to a different school than his brother and sister.

The idea of my baby (how he would protest if he heard me call him that!) away at school all day has tormented me. Yes, he has been at school before and never had trouble -- but those were 3-hour school days. Yes, he has been away from me for more than 3 hours, but then he always had his brother and sister with him.

That first day of school was quite literally the longest time he had ever spent away from his family, since the day he was born.

His most particular, and to me potentially problematic, quirk is his unwillingness to deal with large numbers of people, where "large" means any number greater than 6. His typical response depends on the constraints of the situation. If he can withdraw, either to a quiet corner or from the room completely, that's always his first option. If he's forced to stay, he almost always crawls into my lap. If that's not an option, he creates his own private play zone with his always-in-the-pocket Legos. His first instinct is to disengage, so I wondered how it would go for him in a classroom full of 28 kids when disengagement is not possible.


So far, it has been fine. I didn't talk to him at all about his shyness, but I did mention it briefly to his teacher. On the very first morning, when all the kids were quite wide-eyed with that deer-in-the-headlights expression of terror, I gave him this one reassurance:See, this is your table, your team. You don't have to know everyone all at once, you can get to know your team first. He relaxed immediately, if not completely -- it's much easier to deal with a team of 5 or 6 than an entire class. I know also that if I were there, his reaction to it all would be very different. He's quite a competent little boy when he knows he has to be, when it is expected of him.

I like this age, this milestone. DS2 talks to me about his day, remembering different things at different times. I heard about things like his "excellent lunch" and "running around like lunatics" at PE. This is the time when I finally get to uncover more of his personality, just in the way he presents things to me, and what things he chooses to report. I have to relinquish the idea of knowing where he has been and what he has been doing all day; I'll never have that knowledge again, and I don't need it. He tells me what I need to know, and we discover his abilities together. It's funny that I've had him at home with me for more than five years, but I finally feel like I'm getting to know him now.





Now, there's more to know.

shifting gears

First, a visual cliche:

The cherries have been abundant and delicious this summer. It feels like I've never bought them before, and perhaps I haven't. Before this year, no one but me would've eaten them, I think. The kids are growing up and growing into more tastes and experiences. It's quite a trip.

Last week was the second major life-shift in as many weeks: the First Day of School.

They started Thursday, having to become accustomed once again, or for the first time, to early mornings, dress codes, lunch boxes and all that. For the children, it's a shift up, but for me, it's not-quite-the opposite. From 8AM till 3PM I'm in parent-neutral, and then from 3 till bedtime, I'm on again.

I've been keeping busy with the tasks I've ignored for too long: cleaning out the garage, hauling out-grown clothing and toys off to the donation center, that sort of thing. Plus the usual housecleaning and grocery shopping and laundry, which could keep me busy all the time, but I push back against that idea. (No one cares if the tops of the bookcases are dusty, least of all me. The dust remains.)

DH and I had lunch together on Friday, kind of a mini-date, not even an hour stolen in the middle of his workday. He has to go out to eat anyway! When we were dating, a million years and three lives ago, we went out to lunch every Friday unless something dire prevented it. It's lovely for us to have this time again, and I'm really looking forward to establishing the practice, even if he just comes home to eat lunch with me here.

This week, we'll have five consecutive days of school, and it will be a challenge for all of us. Homework starts this week, and extra-curricular activities will be starting up soon. There is more than enough to keep me busy around the house, but my faith in my discipline wavers. I think, I'd like to get a job, but I have to wait until I get back from Houston.

There it is, again: I'm between gears, stuck in neutral. It's only for two more weeks, and then I can figure out something. In the meantime, I'll try to keep busy during the days and keep up with the kids in the afternoons. It's so odd to go from being around them all the time, every day, to having them gone for the better part of the day. They spend more time at school than they do at home in the evening, before bed: 7 hours there, 8:15A to 3:15P, but then it's 8:30P bedtime. No wonder the days seem infinite without them around.

I dislike quite intensely this feeling of having to stand still while my kids are zooming off into the future.

August's column

Things have been in a state of mild upheaval, so I forgot to post about August's Low Carb Luxury online magazine column.

This month, it's Green and Crunchy Kung Pao Chicken, featuring lots of ginger, garlic,and red pepper flakes, and a bunch of delicious veggies.

It's polling as one of my more popular recipes, with four approving e-mails so far. It's not hard at all, but it can be a time consuming with all the chopping and other prep work. It's totally worth it, though. DH started lobbying me to make it for us, soon, when I mentioned my fan mail.

It will have to wait a few weeks, though. The low iodine diet (LID) starts Monday, and that means no soy sauce, among alot of other things.

in print

My tip has been published in the September/October issue of Cook's Illustrated magazine.



"A Cut Above"

It took me an inordinate amount of time to compose the email I sent to these guys, but obviously, it paid off. Here's my original, which isn't all that different from what they printed:

Have you ever tried to slice a sandwich in half, and have all the inside ingredients squeeze out the sides? There’s an easy way to slice your sandwiches, keeping the fillings neatly inside. Simply cut the top piece of bread into halves (or quarters) before placing it on top of the assembled sandwich. Then you can gently hold onto the top pieces, and use the existing cuts to guide your knife to cut through the fillings and the bottom.

This tip works for everything from peanut butter and jelly to “Dagwoods”, and is especially useful in slicing sandwiches made from hard-crusted breads. Using a serrated knife helps, too.

the impervious unconscious

Whenever some aspect of my life spins out of control, you can bet that one particular person will show up in my dreams.

It only makes sense, really: the first time I needed to retake control of my own life, he was there and gave me the guts to do it. He believed I could, and eventually his faith in me bore fruit. And so, here I am.

I know why I'm having tortured dreams these days. The upcoming trip to Houston and all the tests. The lump I can see in the side of my neck, and the trouble I'm having swallowing. I'm justifiably nervous -- OK, not-so-justifiably petrified -- that I'll need more surgery. On the bad days, I think I've got brain metastases, or that I'll need beam radiation, or something truly horrid. (It's kind of funny how "neck dissection surgery" doesn't even rate "truly horrid" on my terror scale anymore; since I've been through it already, it's a known quantity, and that helps a lot.)

Still, knowing why I'm having these dreams doesn't mean I appreciate this guy, who will always own a piece of my heart just as I will always own a piece of his, however small, showing up in my dreams and putting questions to me that he would never ask in Real Life. But in the dreams, we're back where we were 15 years ago, only we're not.

It's confusing. Dreams are, right? But it pisses me off that the dream-me will be on the brink of making an obviously bad decision -- changing her mind after being firmly set against that wrong choice -- and that's when I wake up.

What I really want is to reset my unconscious so that I dream something else when I'm feeling out of control. Why does it always have to be the same thing?

At least I have the benefit of recognizing it for what it is, now.

43.

Here's what it looks like:

So, what does it feel like? Remarkably, and unsurprisingly, exactly like 42. You'll have to excuse the beach hair in the photo, which I didn't crop even though I'm not thrilled with that particular view of my thighs. But it's me, so there it is.

Notice how you can't even see the scar in that photo (even if you click to see the larger version)? That's so cool. Of course it's still there, but I think I'm the only one who ever sees it anymore. No one else gives it a moment's notice.

On to specifics: the marble in my the side of my neck subsided a few days after I posted about it, so there's clearly a reactive node there, regardless of whatever else is in there. But my neck has really been bothering me a lot lately, and whether it's because there are new nerves growing back in or something else going on, I have no idea. I'll find out soon enough, I think.

I had a reprieve from my RA for most of my vacation. At least, I think of it that way. I took one Aleve most nights because of all the various things I was sleeping on then, not one of them could be called comfortable, and the Aleve helped me to wake up in the morning without that familiar hit-by-truck feeling. A few days before we left, when the really killer humidity moved in, my RA started to flare a bit, even with the Aleve. I stopped taking it when I got home, and I'm having issues that I'd peg as 3-4 on the pain scale.

The main problem is my sciatica is back in a big way, and I'm not having any luck putting my hips back into alignment the way I used to be able to. I'm having nerve issues all down my left leg, and my toes are numb a good part of the day. It's annoying.

Sometimes, the toes on my right foot get numb, too, which makes me think that maybe there are some calcium issues going on... just another thing to get checked out in in Houston in a few weeks.

My digestion calmed down remarkably over vacation. I didn't have any acid problems at all (even with drinking Manhattans nearly every weekend!), and everything just seemed to be working OK. Since coming home it seems out of whack, again, but I was thinking that the NSAID in the Aleve was probably helping (ironically) my gut, too. So I might go back on it...

... even though Aleve whacks out my blood sugar and gives me a huge appetite and I'll end up gaining weight, which I don't want to do. I did put on a few pounds, I think, over vacation, but after a few days home again I'm back to where I was when I left.

My salivary glands are unhappy right now, lots of tingling and general ick. I feel obstructions in my throat high up near the lump and down near my scar.

But I have energy, and I've managed to get everything I needed to get done, done: tonight was "meet your teacher" and I had all the supplies ready (only missed one item out of a jillion, so that's OK), and made the pizza and cheesecake and had everything ready for a nice dinner when we finally got home. The teachers are all nice, but it sure is odd to think of having all three kids in school all day long!

Friends and family called to wish me a happy day, and I miss everyone even while I'm glad to be home. There's still so much to do, but fortunately plenty of time to do it in, I think.

Another year. I do wish I could make Time Stand Still:

freeze this moment a little bit longer
make each sensation a little bit stronger
experience slips away...

we're all all right

The blur continues.

The trip home was uneventful except for the mistakes we made regarding our expectations of the T. F. Green Airport experience, which I am embarassed to admit are the same mistakes we made last year, namely: 1) it's nigh impossible to find a gas station if you get off the highway at any exit before the exit for the airport itself and 2) the food offered once you've passed through security is limited in selection and extremely pricey. Next year, we'll remember where the close gas station is, and we'll pack a lunch.

Today was a whirl of activity, mostly because I discovered that I had not registered DS2 for kindergarden. I'd just signed him up in what was essentially a wishlist, not realizing that I had to formalize the process by completing a huge stack of paperwork. Or maybe I did the paperwork and then I lost it, or the school lost it, or something ate it -- but the school did not have it, and so did not assign him to a teacher.

Panic ensued, more or less.

But I got the packet today and completed it, and the enrollment director (God bless her, she was so kind to me), told me there had been a cancellation so DS2 is in. Yay!

DS1 had two doctor's appointments today, one with the ENT for a follow-up on his surgery, and one at the orthodontist for impressions for his retainer. He did very well at both. In between, we hit the Post Office (picked up all our held mail), Target (school clothes), Sam's Club, and Trader Joe's. It took me about a half-hour just to put away all the groceries... and three times as long, I think, to sort through all the mail and open the envelopes and then file it.

Laundry awaits, still. We did most of the unpacking on Wednesday, but my clean clothes are still in my suitcase, and my vanity/sink area is a disaster. I'll get to it eventually.

Tomorrow: shopping for school supplies (the list is quite scary), a trip to Borders, and "meet your teachers" in the evening. Pizza for dinner, with cheesecake for dessert.

Odd? Maybe, but when you make your own birthday cake, you get to choose what you want. I choose to load up on seafood (look for anchovies on that pizza) and dairy for the next week or so, because after that it's the LID again. That diet seems expressly designed to torment me, as I love everything from the sea, and often live on eggs, cheese, and yogurt in various forms. I'm sorely tempted to try making coconut milk yogurt this time.

The kids seem unaffected by jet lag, except for waking up at ungodly early hours. My internal clock is completely fried, apparently, since I'm exhausted from the moment I wake up until, say, now, when I could easily pitch forward and sleep on the keyboard. But I won't. I'll go take the cheesecake out of the oven, and then take myself to bed.

whoosh

So, where did that time go?

We're back on the Cape, at Mom's. Connecticut is now a blur of humidity, air conditioning, and too much time in front of various screens. But we went to the movies, and ate and ate and ate, and spent time with cousins we never see, and played with the new puppy, and had a lot of fun.

I hate that we have just two more days here, and at the same time I'm more than ready to go home. Still not ready for the kids to start school, and totally not looking forward to packing everything up in a way that is airplane-viable.

Forecast is for two good beach days, so that's the plan.

(My thoughts keep drifting forward to Houston, as everyone keeps asking about what we're doing when we get back... I don't know. We'll just have to see what happens, right?)

Guilt descends on me as I think of the friends I haven't called. This was a working vacation, I tell myself, but I know that if I had really wanted to make plans to get together, I would have. Something in me said, Stay home this year, and so I didn't drag the kids to Boston or anywhere, really. It was the right thing. Tomorrow I'll call and say Sorry and ask forgiveness.

Home will seem very lonely. With DH off at work, I'll be the only grown-up around, again. I'll have to reconnect with all my girlfriends back home and then figure out what the heck I'm doing with all my free time... when I get back from Houston.

checking in

Too much going on, and not much time or desire to catalog it all.

DH arrived Tuesday night to general celebrations.

Wednesday, what? It's all fading into the mist already. I have to think about it. Ah, now I remember: In the morning, DH and my bro installed a new toilet in my mom's downstairs bathroom -- the 34-year-old harvest gold model was just using way too much water. About noon, my brother up in Boston called and had somehow managed to produce two tickets to that afternoon's Red Sox game, so DH and my PA bro took off immediately for the game. I took the kids to the beach, along with their new boogie boards. We were somewhat disappointed in the lack of waves, but the kids had fun anyway. The beach was empty once the day camp kids cleared out about 3:30.

Thursday, DH and I took a carload of stuff up to the transfer station (aka: dump), and then went out and bought pavers for a new back porch. After lunch, we took the kids to that go-cart place I'd driven by for the past 35 years and had never visited. We had a blast: go karts, bumper boats, mini golf, and an arcade, plus various other fun things. It was a late night.

Friday, it was a mostly cloudy and grim sort of day but we went to the beach anyway, and had it all to ourselves. There were big waves and it was fun. In the morning, we laid the pavers to make the porch, and DH and two of my bros made a frame so they wouldn't shift.

Saturday was the big bash, and it was great. After some minor drama in which my nephew, son of the guest of honor, said he wasn't coming, everything turned out wonderfully. The nephew, after a couple of serious discussions, came and brought his toddler (leaving the difficult wife at home), and that meant that every one of my mom's children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren was there. The caterers were efficient, friendly, and made great food; the weather threatened rain but only sprinkled on us a little bit. It was a very good, long day.

Sunday we were up early for mass, then home, and after breakfast, packing up the car to head for CT. It was nearly noon when we left, but that turned out OK. We stopped for fast food at Charlton Plaza, and then met my in-laws at Sturbridge Village, where we had a great time. Sunday night my brother-in-law and his family joined us for dinner, mostly because they had left their cat with my in-laws and needed to pick him up, but it was great to see them.

Today, the cousins came over just after lunch time and spent the afternoon with the kids. Nana filled up the wading pool, and the kids were in and out of it all day. We all assembled for dinner once again, but tonight we did a better job of getting the kids to bed just after 9PM.

Tomorrow, we're heading to Lake Compounce for a long day of water park and amusement park fun, and I have no idea when I'll be posting again.

Throughout all the CT fun: my in-laws cockapoo, Muffin. She has a sweet personality but my kids aren't used to dogs, so it's interesting to see how they react. DS1, thankfully, seems to be over his stark terror. DS2 likes dogs in the abstract but is more skittish of Muffin than I expected him to be. We'll see how it goes.

whee!

The weather cleared, and we've been taking full advantage of it. After days of cool rain, house-bound and busy with house-clearing tasks, the dry sunny days have been awesome.

Friday morning we marked time until lunch, and then the beach car was finally ready. I made the pizza dough in the morning so we wouldn't have to leave the beach early. The beach was glorious, huge waves that the kids loved to jump in -- even DS2, who fearlessly wandered farther and farther from the shore, since the shallows go on forever. We didn't leave till 5, and the pizza that night was as good as ever.

Saturday we beached early with leftover pizza for lunch, and had another day of wave-jumping. My brother and his wife came with us -- DD loved sitting squeezed between them in the front seat of the beach car -- and we all had a great time watching the kids. DD complained about the seaweed and her kind uncle carried her out to the clear area by the sand bar. She clung to him for an hour, jumping in the waves.

When we straggled home past 4PM, my brother and his family from PA had arrived after an 11 hour drive. The kids immediately went to Hyperville, and they haven't appreciably left it since.

Sunday, DS1 and I went to the 7:30AM Mass and on the way home bought doughnuts for everyone. The day was perfect, and we knew the beach would be crowded, so we all hustled and we made it to the beach by 10AM, a miracle which no doubt will never be recreated. It was the first blue-sky beach day all summer, and the water was calm. We knew exactly where to pitch our camp, just past the peak of the high tide line, and we found our perfect spot.

It was a glorious day. The kids buried each other in the sand:

The magic words of the day: Today is a good day to find hermit crabs. The junior marine biologists then established several habitats for their critters. This is Hulk, the biggest, and meanest of the crabs; he had to be isolated because he kept trying to eat the others:

Hermit crabs were good for over an hour.



My two brothers delivered pizza to us for lunch, and we were the envy of the entire, considerably crowded, beach -- and then a little while later my sister arrived with her youngest and our nephew. All in all we spent 6 hours on the beach, and the only time anyone grumped over anything was when the moms insisted on re-applying sunscreen.

Yesterday we were all wiped out from the long day in the sun, but the kids still had a lot of energy. In the morning, the guys took off quahoging and my two sisters-in-law went shopping. The kids were mostly left to their own devices, but before lunch I loaded up all five of them and took them to the farm stand to by some sweet corn for dinner. After lunch, they were agitating to go somewhere, and all of us were wiped out and didn't really feel like doing anything, but I knew that wouldn't fly. My brother's kids had never been to the fresh water pond, and while I detest it, I volunteered to take them just so they could see it and get it out of their systems. ("You're a brave woman," our neighbor J commented as I pulled out -- five kids and one me at the beach? No problem.)

I suffered. Really, there's no way to be cool at that pond unless you are in the water. The kids, of course, had a blast. The found the large-ish fish and tried to catch them. They didn't mind the small swimming area because it wasn't crowded. They didn't notice the too-hot sand because they were never on it. They sprinted up the hill for a treat when the ice cream man came, and then they sauntered back down with their drippy sweets.

After snack and a quick dip to wash off all the sticky stuff, we went over to the playground.


Last night we let all the kids sleep together downstairs. They kept each other awake past midnight, when we threatened them with having to sleep in their regular beds if they didn't go to sleep right now. Now, just before 9, they're finally staggering awake.

Today we'll take it easy, and probably skip the beach as we're all tuckered out. Maybe not, maybe we'll go for just a couple of hours -- I don't know. It already feels like we've packed an entire vacation with the cousins into just a couple of days.

The kids don't know it, of course, but these are the days.

I make little boys cry

...because I am such a very mean mom.

sigh

It's like this: today is day 3 of rain, which means no beach.

It's day two of not having a car, and thus being tied to the house.

It's day N, one of a seeming continuous stream, in which I pay very little attention to the children while we're home (nearly all the time, these past few days), because I'm working on moving stuff around or sifting and sorting, and generally trying to convince my mother to just let go of some of the junk that has accumulated around here. (We don't, for example, need any DOS software manuals, or ancient copies of "PC Computing" magazines. )

Generally, I let the kids have free rein in the house while I'm busy elsewhere, meaning they can watch TV or play with their toys or on the computer as long as they are not killing each other or otherwise inflicting damage to anyone or anything.

The only thing I ask them to do is a bit of practice schoolwork, so they don't lose everything over the summer. "Brain drain" is the one big problem with the tradtional school calendar, and I work actively against it. So: a little writing, a bit of reading, 15 minutes of math drills a day. They could easily accomplish all of this in a half-hour, 45 minutes, tops, if they would just sit down and do it.

Mostly I get a lot of guff and I've reduced the lecture down to one word: six. "Six" is short for "six words," the six words beings: Day camp in Arizona next year.

Really, I don't need these hassles. I love spending time with my kids but I don't love it that they'll so casually blow me off or hassle me about what little I ask them to do. It's ridiculous.

Today, I told DS1 I wanted a reading summary. He did them all last year during school, and had been stuck for a writing topic, and so I gave him one. He didn't do it, even though I harangued him about it several times.

The problem is, after the haranguing, I was then distracted by some stuff I was working on with my mom, so I let it drop, and the boy thought he was off the hook. Not so, because at bedtime I realized I had never seen his writing today, and so I told him that today's writing was an F as far as I was concerned.

I talk way, way too much some times, and unfortunately for my kids, this was one of them. But I am tired of the way they disrespect me, and it was time to say something about it. DS1 made a choice not to do what I asked, and I was angry about it, and he got all upset and blamed me for calling him on his choice -- well, tough.

I probably harangued him for about 5 minutes too long (the initial 2 minutes probably would've sufficed), but then I had to give him the model for how this situation should play out:
1. Choose not to do what I'm told.
2. Mom gets angry at my choice.
3. Accept that I made a bad choice
4. (most important) Do better next time.

More tears! What's with that? I don't think I can do better, he sputters.

Now that's just silly, as I demonstrated to him by reading all the great stuff he has already written this summer. He's a great writer -- I told him he has to be, since he's my son, and his father's a darn good writer also. It's in the genes.

What's really going on here is three days of cabin fever, plus being unaccustomed to so much humidity, and eating strange foods (marshmallow fluff!) and everything else that's weird. I've been homesick for a while, so I have an idea of how all the strangeness could be affecting him.

But I still can't give him a pass when he blows off the one thing I asked him to do that actually required some effort on his part today. I wasn't trying to make him cry, but that's going to happen sometimes and I have to live with it. I have to pretend to be heartless when my kids cry in situations like this, but I'm not heartless, and it does hurt. No parent likes to see her child cry, and no parent wants to make her child cry.

It's not easy being a mean mom, but I'm not doing my kids any favors if I let them grow up thinking that they'll never have to do anything they don't want to. That's just not the way the world works, and that's a lesson they'll be more than familiar with, if I have anything to say about it.

also noted

That lump on the right side of my neck, the one that came back with a negative biopsy?

It's as hard as a rock and killing me, and it's definitely bigger. I feel like someone transplanted a large marble into the side of my neck. I can feel it when I swallow, which is weird -- I'm used to having a lumpy sensation lower down in my throat (which I still do, even when I'm not swallowing, I feel like there's something there), but it's odd to have this feeling like someone is poking the side of my neck when I swallow. This feels new, and I'm not inspired to go read the archives right now to see if it is new or not.

Needless to say, metastases is the first explanation that jumps to my mind, just because that's the kind of person I am.

However, my nose is kind of stuffy so I may have some sinus thing going on -- so the size and the pain could just be due to reactive nodes. However, again, reactive nodes aren't usually as hard as rocks.

Salivaries are weirding out again, my eyes feel like sandpaper a good deal of the time, but my RA has been dormant except for a little hand-stiffness in the mornings. Given the amount of unusual physical activities I've been participating in (moving dryers and furniture, jumping in humungous waves, vaccuuming way more than usual), I'd expect to feel totally lousy. But so far, I don't.

My digestive system is working a lot better but mornings are generally bad. Any given day, at 10AM I feel horrid and sure I won't be able to get anything done because my stomach is so bad, but by 11AM that's passed and we've managed to have great days nearly every day. In fact I can''t think of a single flat-out bad day yet.

Sleeping is going pretty much OK, but I am constantly battling fatigue. Between the fatigue and the digestive issues, I've been happy to stick around here and not go driving all over the place.

And if I'm totally spoiling the kids because I have a sense of impending doom (see: Houston, late August), well, that's just because that's the kind of person I am.

satisfaction

I have a vague sense of My work here is done.

It's not, really -- it's just that I feel like I accomplished something today.

The beach car has sprung some sort of a coolant leak, so we couldn't go to the beach today; this morning's thunderstorms didn't help, either. It was so steamy this afternoon that I desperately wanted to go, but no, not today.

So instead I cleaned closets. Really what I did was move stuff out of upstairs closets into the closets downstairs that are for more general long-term storage. This makes sense to me because there are people actually living in the bedrooms now, and there will soon be even more people, and it will be nice to actually be able to use the closets in the bedrooms this year. (I wasn't kidding about the amount of stuff in this house. Really.)

The biggest accomplishment actually involved moving something into a closet: the big stack of shelves+cabinets ("the unit") that holds the prodigious video collection. No one has watched a tape in years, yet my mother balks at off-loading them somehow. That's fine, I say, gritting my teeth for the third year in a row, but there is too much furniture in this room if three people are sleeping in here and it's holding five people's worth of stuff, so how about I move this cabinet into the closet?

Mom was skeptical, but I accomplished this tremendous feat by moving the toy box downstairs into the newly re-done play room, huzzah!

It's passing ridiculous that I should be so happy to have moved that unit, but I am totally psyched. I don't have to look at it anymore! You know what they say: out of sight, out of mind. If I don't have those tapes staring me in the face every day of the summer, if I don't have to constantly navigate around that unit, why -- it's as if they're already gone.

There's still more work to be done, of course. But I have to get the beach car checked out first, because I need transportation. Every year I think I should rent a car and every year I decide not to spend the money and make do with the beach car. In other words, I cheap out. It seems weird to say but being here does save us quite a bit of money, the beach being infinitely less expensive than day camp and all the other activities the kids would be enrolled in, were we still in AZ. I'm so profligate in everything else I do, I like it that I can actually spend less money for at least a few weeks a year.

I must give more serious thought to this question for next year, though, because having only an old (old - 1993!) car with no A/C really does put a damper on any travel plans.

In the meantime, I must take this creaky bod of mine off to bed.

"this is my best beach day ever"

So said DS2.

And it was.

"she's not on vacation'

(about me) "She's got the three kids..."

My Mom, on the phone to someone-or-other today. It made me laugh.

We had a rude-awakening moment today. When we finally got to the beach today, the parking attendant turned us away because "This is a resident-only beach, and you need a sticker."

I know, we have a sticker, I said, gesturing... to the empty place on the windshield.

Someone stole the beach sticker.

Forty-five minutes and ten dollars later, we were back at the beach, replacement sticker firmly affixed to the windshield.

I must've left the car unlocked out front, or perhaps someone swiped it in the beach lot, the last time we were there -- we usually leave the windows open so it doesn't turn into an oven.

So now I know to make sure that the car is locked and all the windows rolled up. In spite of the two-lane roads and small-town feel of this place, there are still creeps and jerks around, even if they are most likely tourists. Locals wouldn't steal a beach sticker, they wouldn't need to. At least, I like to think that.

Our time at the beach was cut short by the sticker-replacing detour. Any other day, we would've just stayed later until we were beached out, but today was Friday and I was on deck to make pizza. But the forecast is good for tomorrow, too, so we should be able to get in a good long day. The pizza was worth it.

lazy

Before we left home, I had all these grand ideas about jaunting up to Boston with the kids for this or that great cultural experience.

Now that we're here, I don't feel like leaving. We manage to find things to do, and having friends next door is so awesome for the kids that I want them to experience that as much as they can.

Today, another rainy day, we planned to go to the movies in the afternoon. But the weather cleared about 2, and all the kids went out to play, and I just let them. Why should I hustle my kids into a movie theater to sit in front of a screen when they can spend that time playing (or arguing, as the case may be) with other kids?

People are always more important than things, especially things like movies, television, or computers.

* * *

I wonder if it's inertia I'm feeling or frustration. There is a lot of work to be done around this house, and most of it I am positively prohibited from doing. I want to do it anyway, but I also don't want to upset my mother. The problem is, there is a lot of stuff that she hasn't used or looked at in more than ten years, and in all likelihood she won't do either, ever. But she won't let me sort through it and dispose of it, either -- even though it's taking up precious space in the room my three kids are living in this summer.

People are more important than things, I think -- but I also think I need to respect my Mom's decisions, but then I think she's not making decisions, she's punting on the decisions that should have been made years ago because she doesn't want to deal. So let me! Let me deal with it all! Really, it would be quite painless for her.

Now I'm being a pushy daughter again. I have to find some way to let go of this feeling of constantly being thwarted. It's not a good feeling.

accomplishment of the day

The plumber arrived at 7:55AM to install Mom's new dryer. I asked him about hauling away the old one, and he said he could but he would need help getting it into his van.

Considering that the dryer was in the basement and would need to be walked all the way around the house, I thought hard before I volunteered to help carry it up. It was heavy to me, because I am a wimp, but I didn't drop it, or trip, or pull or muscle, or anything like that.

For about 30 seconds, I felt buff, and then I had to go cook breakfast for the kids.

various liquids

Rain this afternoon, lots of it, after a day and a half of threatening and spitting. I'm hoping that it will all wash itself out overnight and we'll get a whole nicer day tomorrow, but the forecast says it won't clear till the evening. We may have to go to the movies if that happens!

Today, though, after bullying kids through their work (reading, journals, and math drills) I piled them into the car and we headed to Sandwich for the Pairpoint Glass Factory. I had visited it more than 30 years ago with my mom and brother, and we enjoyed watching the glassblowers and seeing all the cool stuff they made. So it seemed like a reasonable rainy day excursion, and for once the kids did not complain about it.

We stopped for lunch at a tiny place called John's Capeside Diner, which was a real diner and so not-a-chain-restaurant that it was awesome. DS1 enjoyed his burger, DS2 ate about 2 bites of pancakes, and DD sulked -- the two little ones had been snacking all morning and had no room left for lunch, and it didn't matter a bit. I loved my scallop roll (OK, I ate the scallops and left the roll), and we hustled out through the steady rain back to the car, and to the factory.

When we visited there in the '70's, it was set up differently; I vaguely recall a tour guide, or at least someone explaining the processes we were looking at. Now, I'm sure they couldn't do that for insurance reasons, and it has a pretty neat, simple setup: one entire wall of the shop is glass, and the windows look down into the workroom, where you can see the glassblowers. One huge benefit: the windows block out most of the tremendous heat from the furnaces. I could easily have stood and watched for an hour, but the kids were restless and wanted to explore the shop, so I limited myself to a few minutes.

How crazy is it to bring three kids into a hand-blown glass shop? With my kids, not that crazy. Yes, they picked up some things, but they were careful, and they put them down when I told them to. They didn't jostle anything, they didn't run around or engage in any horseplay. They spent a long time looking at all the cool stuff before they decided what they wanted.

This trip was probably the most extensive on-vacation shopping we've ever done together. Each child picked out a pressed glass cup plate, which I paid for as a vacation souvenir, but then they wanted other things, too. DD picked out a tiny mille fiori crab paperweight, as well as a yellow glass bead bracelet, with a tiny white flower on each bead. DS1 picked out a set of three bird cup plates, each with lovely colors, and I sprung for a rack so he could hang them up in his room at home. For us, I bought three suncatchers for the kitchen windows, and a hefty glass starfish. It's so cool. Then I got some smaller glass shells to arrange around it at home. I'm not really the tchotke type, usually, but these... they're art.

Photos later, when the cable gets here!

way cool news

DH and I are averaging two 5-minute phone conversations a day, just keeping tabs on the goings-on both here and there. But after one of yesterday's conversation, he called right back to tell me that I had a letter from my most favorite magazine, Cook's Illustrated.

A few months ago, I sent in a tip. If they print your tip, you get a year's subscription. They're printing my tip! I'm totally psyched. Not only will I get a free year of the magazine, which is awesome, but I'll also get to add "contributed to Cook's Illustrated" to my list of clips.

no time for introspection

Or contemplation -- or maybe it's just that there's no desire for either.

The weekend was pleasantly busy. My brother and his wife came down on Friday, and it was very nice to have other adults around. We worked on clearing out one of my mom's many over-stuffed rooms, and it turned into an extensive project with excellent results so far. There is a frightening amount of stuff in this house, a lot of it lovely, but more that is here only because no one has taken the effort to dispose of it. So we're making the effort, bit by bit -- it has to happen sooner or later.

Saturday was a windy beach day with very high waves. For the first time ever, the lifeguards called everyone out of the water because some Portuguese Man-o-Wars were seen drifting at the next beach over. We've had quite a rash of them this week, with several people requiring hospital visits for treatment for stings. We built a sandcastle in the meantime, with my brother acting as lead architect. (He has been building things since he was tiny. He used to build the tallest card houses, routinely stacking up 12, 15 stories. I could never get a third story on without toppling the entire thing. We each have our talents.)

Sunday was mostly a working day; I had laundry to do and that is when we did the majority of the work on the renovation. I cooked again: ribs and coleslaw and biscuits, to general acclaim. The biscuits were iffy since the baking powder is circa 1995, but they came out fine if a little flatter than I would have liked.

Monday was regular house cleaning -- vaccuuming, dusting, and de-spiderfication -- in preparation for Mom's arrival home from Rome. I took the kids to the fresh water pond for swimming the afternoon (no need to worry about jellyfish stings). They had a good time but I spend the entire time we're there gritting my teeth. It's not so bad when it's not crowded, but it was hot and sunny yesterday, so it was packed. It's quite a tiny beach area, so everyone's on top of each other, and there's barely a breath of air it seems.

I love the going the ocean beaches because I always feel as if my mental cobwebs get cleared away. At the pond, I just felt stifled.

Today, Mom's getting eased back into being home, the kids are all finished with their schoolwork, and the sun is trying to come out but the forecast calls for clouds and thunderstorms. I don't know what we'll do, we'll figure it out.

DH has already put my camera cable in the mail so I should be able to update with photos later this week if all goes well.

pizza!

It's Friday, so it was pizza day.

It's always an adventure cooking anything in someone else's kitchen; I've been mainly confining myself to simple things like French toast and roast chicken. Pizza is something of a production, as my Mom would say. Early in the week I made my mental list of ingredients and went around the kitchen ticking off what was there and what was missing, so I'd have everything to hand come today.

Well. At dough-making time I discovered that the (unopened) flour had expired in December 2002. That threw me for a bit of a loop, but I trundled the kids out to the car for a quick trip to the local market where they even had my favorite brand, King Arthur. Then it was home to make the dough by hand for the first time in forever, which worked out much better than I expected it to.

I wasn't sure how the kids would respond to this same-but-different pizza: different oil, different pepperoni, different tomatoes in the sauce... I needn't have worried. They each ate two pieces more than usual and declared it "the best pizza ever."

My brother and his wife arrived just past dinner time, and they enjoyed the grown-up pizza (pepperoni, sure, but also fresh mushrooms, roasted peppers, and calamata olives) just as much as I did.

Best part: leftovers to eat on the beach tomorrow. Weather's supposed to be perfect, and I feel I've really earned a beach day.

under the Big Top

I took the kids to the afternoon performance of the Cole Bros Circus today. The neighbors take their kids every year, and so I thought, why not? My kids had never been to a circus -- I can't remember the last time I went, but I'm betting it's something on the order of 30 years ago. I remember being annoyed because there was always so much going, you could never watch everything. What was the point of all that activity if I was always missing two-thirds of it?

But this was a one-ring circus, and the kids tickets were free, so we went. It was not exactly a cheap outing, since I spent $5 for DD to have her face painted, and then another $35 for 3 cotton candies, 3 movie-theater-size-small boxes of popcorn, and 2 small bottles of water. DS2 was hectoring me to buy him a light up toy sword but I refused; he has at least two at home and does not need another one... especially not at those prices.

The circus itself: pretty much OK. The kids did love it. There were frisbee-catching dogs and poodles who could dance the Can-Can and ride scooters; there was some nice acrobatic work; there was one good clown routine, I thought the rest were lame. There two Spider-Man acts that were quite good, one where he battled Green Goblin, and another where he drove a motorbike across a highwire. Yikes.

The first act was about an hour long, and at intermission we went out and bought a funnel cake (another $5). DS2 was grumpy and didn't want to go back in for the second act, which we knew would be short because they had a second show in just an hour and a half. He sat on my lap and complained until the elephants came out. Those elephants were completely charming, seriously. They marched around in time to the music and did a few simple balancing tricks, nothing dangerous or outrageous -- they just seemed like huge friendly puppies. I realize they're not, and would never treat an elephant as anything other than extremely dangerous, but it was very cool to see the people who work with them so closely doing their routines.

Then, after the elephants, the Grand Finale: they shot Spider Girl (I suppose Spider-Man wasn't up to it?) out of "The World's Biggest Cannon." I've never seen that act before (that I remember), and it really was very cool.

DS2 was glad he stayed, after all. I didn't bring my camera but it's just as well, you can see pretty much everything over at the website linked above.

Probably the worst aspect of the evening was trying to get out of the parking lot. It was a free-for-all, and it took us a half-hour or longer to get to the road. If I had thought a moment, I would've hustled the kids to the car a little more quickly, but it has been probably 10 years since I've had to deal with post-performance parking mayhem like that. I'll remember it for next time.

On the way out of the parking lot, we saw about a half-dozen of these guys. I acknowledge that some animal cruelty may be present at times in the circus environment, but I didn't see any evidence of it today, although I suppose it would have to be quite blatant for me to notice it. But honestly, having read through that list, I get the impression that those folks don't think animals should ever be manipulated in any way. Personally, I don't have a problem with animals used for labor or entertainment as long as they are well-cared for. Certainly the atmosphere today around the animals was relaxed and confident, and that was what made it so much fun to see.

I asked the kids what they liked, and surprisingly DS1 actually named some specific things, once I backed off the "what did you like best" question. He never likes to choose, and is often lazy about providing details, preferring to go with, "I liked everything." But we were able to have a good conversation about it this evening. We were all somewhat inspired by the strength and agility of the acrobats and trapeze artists, but I'm not sure we know exactly how to channel that inspiration.

I did specifically advise DD not to run away and join the circus. ""Why not?" she asked me. I told her that she wouldn't be able to bring all her stuffed animals with her, and she would never be home, and I would miss her terribly. She didn't seem to think any of those were compelling arguments, but when I pointed out that she's still working on her handstand, she conceded that maybe she wasn't cut out for circus life. *whew*

July's column

It feels like I just did one of these posts for June, and here I am doing one for July. I'd rather be busy than bored, so I'm not complaining.

This month's column was something of a cheat, but not really. It's the Seven Jewel Turkey Salad, but with a few substitutions that make it a tiny bit lower carb.

This is hands down the best salad of this type that I have ever had, and I've eaten a lot of salad since the days I worked in Kendall Square in Cambridge. As always, I hope someone is inspired to try it and likes it as much as I do.

minor panic

Did you know that iPods have a diagnostic mode? I didn't, either, until I inadvertently put mine into it this afternoon. I was sweeping the front drive and thought it would be nice to have some music to sweep by.

Instead of turning the thing on, I inadvertently pushed the magic key-combination to put it into diagnostic mode.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get it out. The idea that there may be something wrong with this expensive little gadget gave me that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach -- it was so expensive, and it's broken already! How could that have happened? I felt like a bad little girl.

Fortunately, through the Great Resources of the Internet, I found this site, with these helpful hints:

Diagnostic mode. For the iPod Video: toggle the Hold switch on then off, then press and hold the Back and Select buttons. I can't believe I actually did that -- why would I hold down two buttons simultaneously? I don't think I did. But it's massively humid here, so maybe that's making the controls a little sticky...

Restarting a Frozen iPod. For the iPod Video, the magic key combination is: slide Hold button on then off, then press the Menu and Select (not Play) buttons at the same time. Earlier versions used the Menu/Play combination, but that does nothing on the video iPod.

For the record, the Apple iPod Help page gives the same information, but either I spazzed out and did it incorrectly (likely), or I followed the instructions for the wrong iPod version. I'd be embarrassed by being such an idiot but suppressed panic does impair my competence somewhat, and right now I'm just relieved that the thing is working. (The Concert in Central Park, Simon & Garfunkel)

out of the picture and wimping out

It was a rainy day today, so no beach. Ideally, I would've bundled the kids up to Boston to museum hop a little, but none of us really felt like doing that, least of all me. So we kicked around in the morning, and then after lunch went to see the latest Pixar flick, Cars.

It was OK, draggy in some places, and DS2 had trouble following the story as it meandered all over the place. He enjoyed the racing scenes, though, as did I. The scenery, with which I am very familiar here in the real world, was beautifully rendered. The short ("One Man Band") and the credits bits were hysterical. But this one won't be one for the DVD library unless someone else buys it.

Here's my problem, and it's the same problem I had with Robots: the conceit of an entire world "populated" by machines is just not workable, IMO. Sentient animal pictures have the same problem, but it's not as bad -- why is it that some animals, like fish, are almost always OK to eat (except of course in Finding Nemo), but others aren't? Why can some animals talk and act human, but other's can't or don't? I don't get it. I'm not looking for perfect internal consistency here, just something that makes sense within the framework of the film.

So, in Cars, we've got, well, cars... acting human. Let's just ignore the issue of reproduction, as the movie did, too. But let's just take a look at what is there. I can buy racing being the "national pastime", but I can't buy there being a United States. What, did the colonizing wagons revolt against the Loyalists? It just doesn't make sense. At least in Robots, they had the sense to put them on a completely different planet with Earth-like qualities. The decision to tie Cars to Route 66 hamstrung them tremendously.

I know, it's just a kid movie, but when I'm sitting there bored in movie theater as my kids snarf down the popcorn, this is the kind of thing I think about. There's a scene where the Porsche explains how the road used to follow the land, and then they built the interstate so everyone could get where they are going, faster. Honestly, that made sense to me: if I were a car, I'd want to go fast! I can imagine it feeling great to go full throttle and just eat up the miles. But no, we have to have anthropomorphized the cars so thoroughly that we can't have any understanding of them as essentially alien creatures.

But they are! They're cars! If a car really could think, do you really think it would think human thoughts?

I've experienced waaaayyy too much science fiction, obviously. But the movie was boring and the milieu had huge gaping inexplicable inconsistencies, which constantly pulled me out of the picture. For instance: the bit with the tractor-cows and harvester-bull was cute and funny, but why would cars farm anything? They need fossil fuels, not lettuce or cabbage or corn -- although a biofuel explanation could be made for the corn, I suppose. But I distinctly saw something lettuce-y or cabbage-y among the crops, too. Why? How could there possibly be a Hendrix recording of the "Star-Spangled Banner" if there are no humans anywhere? Are you telling me that cars play electric guitar?

Yeah, it was funny that the old Jeep had a drill sargeant personality and the VW bus was a hippie, and it was beyond funny that the insect population is made up entirely of tiny, be-winged VW Beetles. Obviously they put a lot of thought into this film, but unfortunately most of the thoughts were of the "this will be so cool," and "it would be cute to do this," variety.

If the writers had treated the cars as the truly alien species they should be, maybe I wouldn't have been so annoyed.

Better, but we'll see how long it lasts: Spike TV's new "Blade:The Series." I watched the 2-hour premiere tonight and found it a better than usual setup for a tertiary-tier cable channel series. What can I say, I like vampire stories. This one follows the new-familiar pattern of setting up the vampires as "families" similar to the Mafia. It makes a lot of sense. Interestingly, Blade got his butt kicked, which surprised me. There was some cool tech but there was also tech that screwed up. There was an appropriate amount of grit and thankfully only one blood-spurting-gratuitously-everywhere scene. Obviously it could suck in the long run, but I'm willing to give it a chance... especially since it's summer and there's nothing else on.

My only "huh?" moment was when Blade told the lead chick that holy water and crosses don't do jack against vampires. I'm pretty sure that's a contradiction from the movie trilogy. I'm also pretty sure it was a cop out on the part of the writers and producers, who want to do the whole action/sex/violence thing without having to mix any religion in whatsoever. But they must have some balls among them because we saw in flashback/vision that the lead vampire guy was an Englishman who was captured by Native American vampires I'd say about 400 years ago. And there was a Native American tough guy acting as the "pure bloods" doorman. Maybe vampire chic is OK with Native Americans, but they figured the Catholic Church is too tainted to deal with now? I have no idea.

I also have no idea why writers can present a world with so much evil in it, but then completely deny that there is any countering force from/of Good, except for humanity itself. And we all know how weak and venal humans are. Why is it they're afraid to show us using the powers over evil we already have?

at last, the beach

(I've left the cable that my camera needs to connect to the computer at home. I'll have to see about that.)

It was a long day, again, but good for the kids if somewhat nerve-wracking for me. Breakfast, school work, errands. After errands, the plan was: lunch, then beach.

But, as we drove down the street, we saw that all the neighborhood kids were out with a sprinkler, and the kids wanted to stay home so they could play.

It's so ordinary, playing with the kids next door (or, in this case, across the street)... yet it's something they rarely get to do at home. We're so scheduled: school, homework, swimming/dance/soccer, RE classes. By the time it's all done, it's time for dinner, bath, and bed. But here, in the infinitely long, empty days of summer, sure! Go play, we'll go to the beach later.

The kids bounced back and forth between the houses a little bit but once again gravitated over here (as they had done yesterday); I fed them all microwave s'mores for a snack. Their mom came and picked them up around 4-ish, but by the time we got to the beach it was after 5... and glorious.

Last year at this time we were dealing with weeds and jellies. Today, the beach was pristine, and not nearly as rocky as last year. We'll see how long that lasts. We stayed till 7-ish. The kids bathed while I made dinner, then there was just enough time for me to cleanup (there is no dishwasher here) before sending them off to bed.

Pictures coming when I can upload them...

too late

It's only 7 hours after the phone call that I realize what I should have said.

At 6:45AM, the phone rang. It was Mom, calling from Italy. She wanted to make sure we got in all right, and then proceeded to go over the very same list that she had detailed for me -- twice -- before she left for Europe. In fact, it's the very same list that she wrote down for me to find when I arrived.

None of that stopped her from going over it all, once more, with me, at 6:45AM, which to my Phoenix-zoned body was really 3:45AM.

By the time I was off the phone with Mom -- many assurances like "Yes, I know where it is," and "OK, I'll put the answering machine back on for you," -- everyone else was awake, too. I tried to persuade them to get a little more sleep, but it was no good. Instead of the cloudy day we had been expecting, we awoke to bright sunlight and blue skies.

Much later, Mom called again, just as I was starting to pull things together for dinner (chicken, corn on the cob, sliced cucumbers). She just wanted to check in briefly to make sure that all was going well. Once again I assured her that we are all fine. I lived in this house for many years, and have had extensive stays here nearly every year since. Nothing much changes, and if my first instinct for locating something fails, I usually have two or three alternates, and I've yet to come up stymied for anything. I reminded Mom of these facts but they didn't satisfy her much, I could tell.

Just now I made myself a cup of tea in the microwave. The first cup I nuked for 2.5 minutes, and the teabag exploded, making a huge mess. I laughed that I had forgotten that Mom's microwave is so much more powerful than mine, which needs 2.5 minutes to make the water hot enough for tea. I cleaned up the mess and tried again with just the water, which I put in for 2 minutes. About a third of it boiled out, and when I put the teabag in, it did that super-heated boiling thing which is both fascinating and scary: it looked just like plain hot water until the teabag broke the surface, and then it sprang to furious life, roiling like any witch's cauldron should.

I have to laugh about this, because Mom has told me how to make tea at least 50 times, and often I'll reply something like, Mom, I used to make tea for you when I still lived here! I've been making tea for more than 30 years now! And she'll say something like, I know, I know, but I didn't want you to forget... whatever quirk it was I was supposed to remember... which clearly, today, I forgot.

And in that very minor kitchen disaster, the thought came into my head, what I should have said to Mom: We're OK Mom, we're somehow managing without you, and we'll be able to hold down the fort till you get home. And most important: I miss you.

Because of course, it's true.

here, finally

It was a long day... left home at 8AM MST, finally arrived at my mom's at 10PM EDT. The flight was delayed taking off because of bad weather elsewhere, and once we were in the air, we were re-routed to avoid that same bad weather, so the flight was an hour longer than usual.

It was the typical travel day of bad food (ameliorated slightly by the presence of very good chocolate, which I brought with me) and waiting and waiting and waiting, but the kids were wonderful. DS1 had probably his best flight ever, thanks to Dramamine and a decent lunch.

Here at the old homestead, I feel very square-peg-in-round-hole-ish: I don't fit here. It is always this way at the beginning, I have to find my way here again every year. I forget the physical realities of this place over the long winter, so they always come as a shock to me again when we arrive. The house is fine, but it's full... and it is simply not possible to put all of the clothes for four people into two dresser drawers, even if they are nice and deep; they are not that wide. Still, I managed to put all of our things "away" neatly, and hopefully the system will hold up. We'll see.

The forecast is full of rain as far as the eye can see, so we will have to busy ourselves with other than beach activities. It's OK, the boys aren't supposed to swim for another week yet anyway. I have a sense of weightlessness now, all of the scheduled responsibilities are finished until August! And I've even submitted columns through September, so I don't even have that hanging over me. Ah, freedom...if only the weather would cooperate.

black op failure, jr edition

Each kid has a small carry-on suitcase, the kind on wheels. Whenever we go on vacation, they pack their suitcases with their own toys. Each has his own toybox, so to speak. DD has been packing and re-packing her suitcase all week. This morning, I got the boys' suitcases down from their closet shelf, and they quickly packed theirs up. The three packed little suitcases sat on the upstairs landing all day.

We went to our usual Mass this evening, and then out for dinner at Chili's. Once home, we got them all bathed and into pj's, and then they played while I finished puttering around and packing, including bringing those little suitcases downstairs. We put them to bed a little past 8:30PM; it's going to be a bit of an early start tomorrow, and it will be a long day.

8:55PM, I hear giggling upstairs. I was straightening out the game shelves in the kitchen when DD pops downstairs with this: Mom, can you tighten the cap on my water bottle? It's leaking! I took a drink and it leaked on my toes! (We keep their water bottles out in the hallway, part of a routine that will make them think about whether or not they need to use the bathroom -- and also minimizes the amount of water spilled into their beds.)

So I tighten the cap off the water bottle, and dried it off for good measure, when I hear DS1 giggling, and I know something's up.

OK, you guys, what's going on?

DD caves immediately: (DS1) is bringing the suitcases upstairs so we can put more toys in them... I look in the living room and see that, indeed, DS1's suitcase is no longer downstairs with the others.

Well, there was no point in getting angry about it. They're too excited to sleep, so: OK, you've got five minutes, get down here and do what you need to do...

The two boys come running downstairs with various "animal friends", which get stuffed into the nearly-full suitcases, and then I chase them back upstairs to bed.

DH and I both admired the slickness of the operation, with DD providing the cover with the water bottle story. They probably would've pulled it off if DS1 hadn't been so giggly. As Kim Possible said, Being quiet is an important part of being sneaky.

packed

Pretty much everything that can be packed now has been packed.

I've done all the housecleaning and straightening up that I intend to do, although of course there's always more.

We're heading out in the morning, and I am struggling because I don't want to go. That's not exactly right: I don't want to leave DH. I wish he could come with us, now, and not weeks from now. We'll be fine, he'll be fine, I just don't want to go away from him.

I know this is sounding like some stupid high school crush thing, but it's more that I've been struggling, with physical and mental stresses and he has been completely super through everything. I've finally figured out how to communicate to him, Hey, I need you for a minute, and just that minute or two will be enough to smooth out the bumps in my day. It's beyond nice, it's good, good for me, good for him, a good thing for all of us.

I don't know how well it works over the phone, but we'll give it a shot.

pending

We're still in the weird limbo of recovery. The boys are feeling much better, but don't feel like actually doing much, so we're not.

Yesterday we ventured out twice: in the morning, DS1 had an appointment with the orthodontist. When we get back from vacation, he'll be fitted for an occlusal retainer with expander. (It doesn't look nearly as bad as it sounds.) He'll wear it overnight for the next three years, with the hope that he will then be spared the necessity of actual braces. As much as I know he will dislike it, I will do my best to convince him that three years of wearing a retainer at night is far better than two years of actual braces, 24-7.

In the evening, we all went for ice cream. It's most likely the last family outing (except for Mass this weekend) we'll make until DH joins us on the East Coast in July.

I haven't started packing, but I'm slowly going through the long list of everything-that-must-be-brought, and making sure we have enough. The plan is laundry on Friday, pack on Saturday... leave on Sunday.

Doesn't seem real.

"normal"

So, I've been having numbness and tingling in my fingers and toes, and aches and pains in my hands and feet, and the bones in my arms are hurting and I'm generally not functioning as usual. Since these are classic symptoms of hypoparathyroidism, and since I have had extensive surgery in my neck where the parathyroid glands reside, I sent off an email to my doctor at MDA. He emailed back and had me go for a blood test; I went on Tuesday morning and saw the PA at my GP's office, and she ordered the bloodwork for me.

Thursday morning at an ungodly hour (DH was up, I wasn't), the PA called to tell me all the calcium and parthyroid hormone levels were fine, but my white blood count (WBC) was pretty low, 3.2. When I had my last bloodwork done in May, it was 3.9. The PA wasn't happy about the WBC, but was really calling to get the fax number for my doctor at MDA.

The nurse from MDA called me today to tell me that all my bloodwork is "normal", not indicative of hypoparathyroidism. Yeah, I knew that. I asked her about the WBC; the doctor didn't mention it -- just that my bloodwork is "normal."

If this is how "normal" feels, I want no part of it.

I called up my friend M today to come and stay with the boys so DD and I could go and do some errands this afternoon; one of my stops was Hi-Health where I stocked up on all the stuff I quit taking: probiotic, digestive enzymes, and iron. The first two I hope will help slow down my digestion and increase my absorption of calcium; the last I hope will help with everything else. I quit taking the stuff because Trader Joe's discontinued them, and I was too lazy to find a new supply. I thought, Well, let's see what happens if I quit taking it for a while. It has been a while, and I feel horrid, so let's see what happens if I get back on, hmmmm?

I quit taking the new RA med (generic Arava, aka leflunomide) that I had such an initial positive reaction to; it seems to me that the parasthesia coincided with my increase in dosage, and it is listed as a side effect. The patient information warns that blood counts may lower, so I suspect it is the leflunomid that's responsible for my low WBC. It's going to take a while to flush it from my system, though.

I wonder when I'll start to feel human again. (Doesn't matter, really -- we're off to MA a week from Sunday! I don't have time to feel sub-par.)

bully

That's me, making my boys drink and eat and take their medicine, too. In the case of DS1, add in the extra torture of making him blow his nose, instead of continuously wiping it with the back of his hand.

Both boys just cried through their last meds of the day. It sucks because we have to wake them up to give them the meds -- we can't let them go all night or they will wake up in pain. It's already bad enough in the mornings, with their meds running out between 4 and 5AM. So we literally have to make them take the meds around midnight, even if they are crying and just wanting to go back to sleep.

It hurts something fierce, being harsh with a kid who is both exhausted and in pain. But you can't just be all "There, there, dear, go back to sleep, I won't bother you," because that is positively harmful to them in the not-so-long run. Yes, they'd sleep now, but they'd wake up screaming in just a few hours, and getting the medicine into them at that point would be impossible.

On the upside, DS1's crying washed a lot of gunk out of his sinuses, so hopefully he'll be able to breathe better now. He denied it at the time, but that's because he was too annoyed with me to be anything other than contrary.

I'm terrible at this bullying business, but we manage somehow -- if the kids believed my threats more readily, they would be more quick to obey. Not-so-secretly, I'm glad they don't believe me, but then when I finally do give them a whap, they snap-to. Then know I don't want to do it anymore than they want me to, but sometimes... there is no other way. DS1 is too big for me to wrestle down to the floor so I can pour meds down his throat -- that tactic was required in years past a few times. He has to take it himself, and if I have to tell him to suck it up and stop being a baby, well, I will.

gathering blue roses

My two patients are resting not very comfortably. There's a miasma of barely suppressed agony suffusing the house.

My throat is killing me, and my sinuses aren't much better.

I am Esther (1), wishing I were Gem (2).

---
1. Originally published in 1972 in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. I read this Pamela Sargent short-short story most likely in an anthology more than twenty years ago, and I've never forgotten it. If you've never read it, you should.

2. This episode of TOS is rarely seen in syndication. During the webcrawl I did for this post, I came across a lot of dumping on the ep for its low budget, but I did occasionally see a positive review. I think the reason a lot of Trek fans don't like it is it is atypical for the series. Much like "City on the Edge of Forever," there's nothing of the Federation, there's barely any Entrerprise scenes, and the character's behaviors aren't pegged to the specific Kirk/Spock/McCoy quirks that the fans love. In these eps, they are stand-ins for the Everyman hero and his sidekicks. When I was little, "The Empath" freaked me out. When I saw it again many years later, I loved it, and I still do.

A Field of Darkness

I passed through most of today's surreal waiting time reading my writer's-group aquaintance Cornelia Read's debut novel, A Field of Darkness. I don't read mysteries, and I'm a terrible reader, too -- whipping through books by skipping every third word, or more. But with this one, I couldn't do that -- I wanted to read every word, partly because Cornelia wrote it, but also because of her vivid imagery and fully realized characters. So many tiny, telling details were packed into this book, and I didn't want to miss any of them. It was splendid.

If I had to complain about something, it would be the profanity, simply because I'm not used to reading any at all. As these things go, it's mild; it doesn't nearly approach the lofty heights (so to speak) of the obscenity-laden dialog of, say, The Sopranos or Deadwood, for which I am very grateful. It was I think an appropriate level of profanity, given the ages, backgrounds, and professions of the characters, but it still tripped me up from time to time because I live with three children and do my very best never to swear myself. Then I remember, hazily, my own days pre-offspring, and the fact that I worked with all guys in software development, and the fact that if anyone transcribed some of our design meetings, the word used with the most frequency would probably be one that starts with "f." In other words: it should be impossible to offend my ears, but apparently, it's not. How odd.

At any rate, A Field of Darkness was the perfect life preserver for a day like today. I could cast myself into the pages and not fret about my two boys, or just pretend that nothing significant had happened today -- certainly nothing as significant as all the stuff that was raining down on Maddie Dare. It helped me enormously to have a book that was so engrossing, so tightly plotted and paced exactly right. And I love that Cornelia didn't pull any mystery-writer crap and withold clues from the reader: if you pay close attention, you'll figure out what's going on before Maddie does -- but given Maddie's propensity for panic, vomiting, and stupidly walking into rooms containing recently murdered people, I suppose that's not saying much. But it is! Because you can't help liking Maddie, even while you want to shake her, but maybe just a little, because she's just as conflicted as you are. Well, as I am, anyway. Maddie's a familiar, jangly knot of resentment and appreciation and confusion, and What am I doing with my life, anyway?

But the observation that hit me the hardest was Maddie's admission, during what is supposed to be a solemn moment:

I have no talent for quiet meditation, have never gained an insight on the nature of the universe while having to duck my head in silence for anything. My mind just wanders and jumps.

I know that Maddie's a fictional character and all, but the connection I felt there was intense: I thought it was just me! I despise my lack of mental discipline and my inability to focus. I keep hoping if I practice I can get better at it, but I don't even have the discipline to practice.

And then I realize, I've survived nearly 43 years without this ability, how crucial can it be? Maybe I'll figure it out in my remaining time, however long that is, but if I don't I'm going to try not to sweat it.

See, that's what a really great book can do: help you to know yourself a little better. Maybe I should read more mysteries.

tonsillectomy day

It was a very odd, long-ish day. We all schlepped up to the surgical center shortly after 8AM this morning; DS2 was finally taken back for his surgery close to 11, and DS1 around noon, I think. By the time all was said and done, we got home around 3PM.

We were greatly appreciative of all the high-tech portable entertainment devices we had brought, including Leapsters (ditched in favor of the facility's GameBoys), the portable DVD, and the iPod. DD watched High School Musical with DS1 before his surgery, and then watched Corpse Bride with DS2 after his.

The boys are at opposite ends of the recovery spectrum. DS2 is, quite literally, fine, although I expect there will be some backsliding tomorrow. He was hopping around and contemplating practicing his handsprings on the futon until we told him not to. He ate a half of a peanut butter sandwich, an otter pop, a firecracker popsicle, and a bowl of shells and cheese. He also drank at least a cup of milk, a cup of apple juice, and about three-quarters of a strawberry smoothie.

AND the Tooth Fairy is coming tonight for him, since the doctor removed his wiggler before actually getting to the tonsils and adenoids.

DS1, on the other hand, is suffering. His surgery was three times longer than his brother's, and he is feeling the effects of the anaesthesia. The kid is a puker, and always has been. I called the doctor's on-call service this evening and they phoned in a prescription for anti-nausea medication. It worked but it's method of delivery (suppository) made the boy even more miserable. But it did work, and then he could keep down his pain meds, and have more to drink, and even have a popsicle himself. Poor kid is also dealing with intermittent bloody drainage from his nose, especially when he cries.

There's not much we can do for him. I have to bully him to take the pain meds, because he can't drink if he's in pain, and if he gets dehydrated, the pain will only be worse. Once the pain meds kick in, he does much better.

DD was more or less angelic all day. She enjoyed her lunch of mini chocolate donuts and humongous rice krispy treat from the machine in the lobby; we weren't expecting such limited options, and had been asked not to leave the building. If she had been cranky, one of us would've ventured out for something more substantial, but we all survived. (DH & I had potato chip-like things. They were... edible.)

In other news, I'm thinking that all my weird tingly feelings could be a side effect of my RA meds, and I was very tired of how screwed up my digestion was, so I quit taking it. My hands actually feel better, but we'll see how long that lasts. I think I'll go back on the Minocycline; it really worked wonders while it was working. Maybe I just needed a break. For now, the weird tinglies are persisting, and I'm going for a blood draw in the morning. We'll see what's what, eh?

une petite crise

"A little crisis," but not exactly -- the sense of it in French is different from the impression you get from the English phrase. It's not a crisis at all, just a period of mild angst.

A few days ago, I received my Social Security statement in the mail. It contained such charming information as how much I can collect if I retire at such-and-such an age, and all that other stuff. Of particular interest to me: first, I'm no longer eligible for SS disability because I haven't worked enough (any) qualifying quarters in the last 5 years. Not that I'm thinking I'll need the disability payouts, because I'm not thinking that. It's the lack of qualifying quarters that bothered me. You don't have to earn very much at all to qualify, you know.

Second, the last year before I left the workforce, I earned more than $75,000.

Crikey, that's a lot of money. It was a lot more than in the previous few years, too, because I worked full time for several months, trying to convince Oracle that they didn't have to lay me off. They laid me off anyway.

Having let these two data items sink in, I find myself more and more annoyed at my lack of productivity and pathetic earnings. Let me state unequivocally that this is all coming from me, DH has nothing to do with my own feelings of profound inadequacy.

We had a conversation, it went something like this:
Me: I feel stupid.
Him: (cautiously) Why?
Me: I'm doing these silly jobs (writing the column, and now doing storytime) that are paying practically nothing, and they take up a lot of time. Do you think it's a waste of my time?
Him: I always thought you are doing those things because you want to do them.
Me: I do, but I sometimes think I'm selling myself short, or I'm letting people take advantage of me.
Him: It doesn't have to be that complicated. If you like what you're doing, then you are doing it because you want to, not because someone manipulated you into it.

We kind of left it at that, because there's really nothing more to say. I want to say, shouldn't I be charging more for my columns, or for doing the storytime gigs? Maybe I could, but these things are not about the money. They are about the experience, and the money is more or less a token to show that yes, this is real work being done here.

Every so often I get weird about money. I've been weird about spending since the arrival of the iPod, unnecesarily so. That unfortunate weirdness was extended by the arrival of the SSI statement: See, you're not earning!

You'd think that after being out of the workforce for seven years, I'd be over this by now, but I'm not. I was an earner, and a very good one, for 15 years before I quit, and I don't know what it's going to take for me to finally put to rest the idea that there is something wrong with me because I'm not earning right now.

Well! There's nothing to be done right now, anyway. One last storytime on Friday, and then vacation starts in earnest, and we'll be off to Massachusetts in just a few weeks. Then in August, the kids will start school and I'll head back to Houston, and we'll see what's what. With any luck at all, I'll be done with the cancer thing, and then maybe I can look into doing something that pays a little better.

unintentional absence

The server hosting all my sites crashed one day last week. My ISP quickly brought the sites back online for viewing, but until today, I couldn't access my site to change content (in more technical terms: FTP was broken).

In the interim, I've been loading my music library into iTunes, and I'm up just over 10GB now -- as I type this, 768 new songs are being added to my iPod.

Tomorrow is DS1's and DD's last day of school, huzzah! And DS2 has his last swimming lesson. We won't really be off the hook until after storytime on Friday, though. I'm looking forward to the freedom of having literally nothing scheduled.

Except we do have one thing scheduled: the boys are having their tonsils and adenoids removed Monday, and DS1 will have his turbinades reduced as well. So far neither one of them seems unduly stressed by the pending surgeries, but that could change as Monday approaches.

DH and I have a date on Friday, figuring it's good to get away before the boys' surgery. Three weeks from now, I'll be in Massachusetts. My usual excitment is tempered with dread on the boys' behalf -- I'm hoping they have easy recoveries. I'm hoping we all don't go crazy with two cranky boys in the house, post-op.

This afternoon, the kids for once got along famously, and I enjoyed every minute of it. The older kids are now free from the tyranny of homework, at least for a while, and were magnanimous in their treatment of their little brother. It's a lot easier to be nice when you're not feeling stressed, hmmm? I'm adding this to my list of hopes: that we can preserve that peaceful, pleasant atmosphere through at least part of the summer.

(micro) yay!

Nothing major, just a couple of good things.

First, my biopsy results from the dermatologist came back "fine." I haven't read the report but I'll take their word for it that I'm OK. *whew*

Second, my new dosing of the RA meds is apparently working. (Knock me over with a feather.) I can do things like open jars without much effort, and I worked on Teddy for hours last night and did not wake up feeling like a cripple today. I knew it would take a while to kick in if it was going to work, but I wasn't, actually, you know, expecting that it would work, ever. So it's really very nice that it appears to be working, and I hope it keeps up.

Blips: I had a brief dizzy spell a few days ago. I almost fell off the chair in front of the screen here -- how odd. I can't recall that ever happening before, even when I was pregnant (I may not be remembering accurately, though.) Also, weird numbness/tingling/crawlie sensations in my feet are happening almost every day, and I'm trying to figure out if it's a calcium thing or a neurological thing, since it doesn't seem related to position or activity or anything like that. I'm just keeping an eye on it for now. Last: very lumpy feeling in the throat, which would freak me out if Dr. O, the amazing ENT, hadn't just looked at it quite thoroughly and declared that he couldn't feel anything. Whatever that is, it will keep until August.