by Georgia Mizuleva*
“The lover’s fatal identity is precisely: I am the one who waits.” ~ Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse
Saturday, mid afternoon. Partly cloudy, hot, not quite as humid.
by Georgia Mizuleva
The water in the pool is green because I had to turn off the pump two days ago when a hose sprung a leak. Eldest son was supposed to bring home some kind of hose patch from pool store yesterday, which, if he had, would have meant that I could float in the pool today. He did not, and I cannot. The pool and I have had an unrequited love affair this summer, and now summer is nearing its end.
Ah me.
The dream I had right before I awoke involved me being at a Republican campaign rally that I had inadvertently stumbled into while trying to find a place to park my bicycle. I somehow ended up backstage, got yelled at for being backstage, and found a coffee shop in which I could order a large latte or cappuccino, but I couldn’t remember which I preferred. Then I learned that they had ginger scones, so I was unbothered about paying $7.03. Why this amount? I have no idea.
I came out of the rally and found myself on the back end of a Sears parking lot, and had no idea as to where I was or how I had gotten there. I awoke with a migraine, craving coffee and ginger scones.
“I will take with me the emptiness of my hands
What you do not have you find everywhere” ~ W. S. Merwin, from “Provision”
It has been a very long week. I ordered my new glasses (regular and sunglasses) at Sam’s Club on Wednesday, which came to a grand total of almost $400. Painful, but admittedly, I have not had new glasses in almost five years, and watching television in my old prescription sunglasses is not helping the head or eye situation. What was quite disappointing was that my discount when using my insurance to buy one pair came out to a whopping $2 discount. That’s two. Only two. Seriously?
by Georgia Mizuleva
Thursday, Brett stayed on campus until the evening, and I was ailing horribly, chills, nausea, vomiting, all from a migraine. I paid eldest son to pick up Brett from campus, and on the way home, his car overheated. It’s his radiator. This is very bad news for a couple of reasons: It’s an old car that keeps costing lots of money, but he cannot buy another one because he has no money. Because he has no money, I have to front the money for this repair, which will be around $225 for parts and labor.
I realized on Thursday, that after I ordered glasses and paid several bills, I was down to almost nothing until the next paycheck. Now, that amount will be swallowed up by Eamonn’s car repair. I still need to get prescriptions, and I have a doctor’s appointment for which I owe a back balance.
All of this makes my head hurt more.
The one good piece of news is that the court has agreed to push forward my hearing with the medical carrier who wants big money for back bills, but I never would have found out this information if I hadn’t called to see what action had been taken, only to be told that they don’t send out notifications. The letter in which I made my request will stand in for me on the court date. I immediately got this image of a giant piece of paper standing in the courtroom.
“Beneath the blue oblivious sky, the water
sings of nothing, not your name, not mine.” ~ Don Paterson, from “Poetry”
Add to all of these financial issues the fact that youngest son is having a major identity/career crisis, Alexis is still wanting/needing my presence almost daily, Corey’s distance, and I’m feeling quite overwhelmed myself. I wish that I had answers, solutions, recommendations for everyone, but I don’t. That bothers me because it’s my job as a mom to have answers, isn’t it? I told Corey in an e-mail that I really had forgotten just how hard this single parenting thing is, but then I wished that I hadn’t said that because I don’t want to make him feel bad for not being here. It’s all just a big conundrum. It feels like I’m in a maze, and I keep running into deadends, but I can hear people talking and laughing on the other side of the hedges.
by Georgia Mizuleva
Does that make sense?
For two straight nights I skipped dinner (unless you count a handful of Oreos dinner), and I realized by Thursday that my headache was probably from eating too many gummi bears and ingesting too much miscellaneous sugar. So I regrouped and ate a big salad and tried to abstain from too much sugar. All of this made me ponder an absolutely insane question: How fast does the body digest gummi bears? Do they stay in your digestive track for days? Why would I think of such things? Which led to me making the most bizarre comment to Alexis: If they find a body that they cannot identify and the stomach contents are nothing but gummi bears, it’s probably me. Yes, I know. I watch entirely too much Dateline ID and CSI and all of those other shows.
This is how my mind works. And by that I mean, not too well. Truly.
“We sit and talk quietly,
with long lapses of silence,
and I am aware of the stream that has no language,
coursing beneath the quiet heaven of your eyes, which has no speech.” ~ William Carlos Williams, from Paterson, Book I
I’ve been searching the Interwebs for a working IBM Selectric, and they are not easy to come by. I really wish that I could get one from an old office that has one just sitting around. Don’t ask me why I imagine such things to be possible. I found a few on e-Bay, but they were selling for parts, which doesn’t help me at all. If anyone out there in the ether hears of an old working Selectric that someone is trying to unload, keep me in mind.
by Georgia Mizuleva
Corey is thinking of taking a few days off when the ship gets in port here. I think that’s a great idea. He needs to step back and regroup, see if he wants to finish this hitch. He sounds so tired. He does this thing when he’s upset—doesn’t eat. Just smokes and drinks Mountain Dew. Very not good. I mean, he’s so lean as it is, and the intake of caffeine and nicotine without food doesn’t help anything. I found out that his phone, the one that we just got fixed before he left, was submerged in salt water. I have no idea if he’s managed to get it working, but I have a feeling that we’ll be purchasing a new phone for him soon. It can be a belated birthday present.
So yesterday, because I had no vehicle and was waiting for Alexis to pick up Brett at school, I decided to try out the new mower to mow the yard, front and back. It’s been raining almost every day, and the grass was so high. Eamonn hasn’t wanted to do it when he gets off work, and finally, I had enough and went outside and did it myself. I haven’t mown a yard in a decade. I mean, I used to do it all of the time. It’s great exercise, but not so great when you have a bad back, and both of your wrists are locked up. Eamonn is certain that I did it just to make him feel bad, but actually, I was just so frustrated by absolutely everything that I decided that it would be a good thing to do—mow, make the yard look decent, get some exercise, do something different.
Yep. Right. Good idea.
Not so much.
“Words have been spoken; things that were bottled
have burst open and to walk in now
would be to walk in
on the ocean.” ~ Simon Armitage, from “At Sea”
By the time I finished, my wrists were tingling and numb, and my back was shot. Perversely, it felt good. I hate that my body cannot do the things that it used to do. I hate that the entire time I was mowing, all I could think about was my disability claim. I hate that by the time that I finished, I had numerous injuries: a slice in my right pinky from the leftover glass in the sliding door; it wouldn’t stop bleeding, a blister the size of a quarter in my right palm, a numb left arm and hand. What the hell?
by Georgia Mizuleva
I haven’t decided whether or not I’ll tell Corey what I did. He will not be amused.
Anyway, today I’m not doing much of anything. I have some laundry going, and I cleaned the kitchen. I pine for a long hot bath, even in this weather, but it’s not going to happen, so what’s the point? Maybe one day I’ll be able to emerge myself in a natural hot spring. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Eamonn drove the Rodeo to work yesterday and today. The guy across the street is supposed to work on Eamonn’s car this weekend. I had hoped to float in the pool, but I’ve already talked about that, so the only thing left on my dance card is a new episode of “Dr. Who” tonight, and a new “Wallander” on “Masterpiece Mystery.” I am simply agog with excitement. Try not to be too envious of the thrill that is my life.
More later. Peace.
Music by Imperial Mammoth, “Requiem on Water” (lots of water and sea on my mind, obviously)
*All images are taken from the 500px site of Georgia Mizuleva
Indian Summer
Like a deep blue wave
of passion
you shore into the room
where I sit waiting quietly,
open-booked.
We have moved through days,
loss, pain
to hold this moment,
this picture postcard seascape
of gentle harbouring.
You say
‘I knew you were here
I could smell you’
and effortlessly I sway
to seal my fate.
You taste of ocean,
avenues of grassy dunes,
like a magician
you pluck a tiny pebble
from my hair—
Ancient survivor, sun-kissed
on this summer afternoon,
unconditionally
I step out of my dress
into your dream.
~ Eileen Carney Hulme
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