“I prefer neurotic people. I like to hear rumblings beneath the surface.” ~ Stephen Sondheim

Andrew Wyeth Master Bedroom

  Andrew Wyeth, “Master Bedroom”

“Neurotics are sure that no one understands them, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.” ~ Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966

Well, I think that my body does not like the antibiotic Cipro. I started taking this wonderful med last week, thinking that my body would react as it normally does after taking an antibiotic for a few days: No more icky, everything all better. Not this time.

I’ve been waiting a week for the chills and weakness to go away. So far, no go. I stayed in bed all last week, didn’t even come near the computer. My desk began to look like a laundry rack. Finally, on Friday, I had to get out of bed to go to a family cookout for my German niece and nephew who were in the country. I look forward all year to these family parties, seeing everyone, getting out of the house, getting tipsy twice a year.

Not this time.

I was drinking Coke and ice (no Pepsi, pshaw), ate a grilled burger, no birthday cake even. Had to go home and change into jeans and a long sleeved shirt because I was freezing. Good thing we live so close together.

My one day out of bed earned me two more in it. Yesterday, I woke up early with big plans to put away the laundry and to write a blog. By 8 p.m., I knew that it was a lost cause. Today, we went to the airport to see off the travelers. I came home and crashed and woke up at 7. Unfortunately, I did not know if it was 7 in the morning or 7 in the evening.

Totally discombobulated. Don’t you hate that? I actually went out into the dining room and asked Corey if it was nighttime. But as I asked him, I realized the answer to my question because if it were morning, he would have been in bed, not sitting at the computer in the dining room.

It’s impossible to be able to tell time by the dogs because they are quite content to stay in bed with me day and night, occasionally moving under or above the covers depending on whether or not I’ve turned off the air conditioner.

Oh yes. Life has been pleasant for Corey since I’ve been shutting off the a/c in the bedroom since I’ve been sick. First I get chills, and then I’m too hot. A/C on and no covers . . . a/c off, lots and lots of covers. He said that he woke up a few mornings ago and I had completely buried myself under the blankets. He couldn’t even see my nose.

“No good neurotic finds it difficult to be both opinionated and indecisive.”  ~ Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic’s Notebook, 1960 

Andy Warhol Diamond Dust Shoes
"Diamond Dust Shoes," by Andy Warhol

So that’s what life has been like in my house for a while. Completely unexciting. Nothing to tell. No energy to post. I have had plenty of time to ponder a few things, which I thought that I would share with you because that’s just the kind of person that I am:

  1. Why are there six pairs of shoes next to my desk and how did they get there?  I realize that I probably left all of them there, but when? When have I had time to wear six pairs of shoes since I’ve only been out of the house to go to the doctor and the store?
  2. Why did the x-ray technician at my doctor’s office try to take my blood while the lab technician (or whatever the proper term is, sorry) went to help the student x-ray technician do an x-ray? Doesn’t that seem weird to you? It does to me, especially since she missed my vein the first time. I think that my evil, ugly twin may have reared her head accidentally because she didn’t want to try to go for another vein. We waited for the real blood person to come back and stick me.
  3. Which one of the Jack Russells talked Tillie into taking a bag of hoagie rolls off the island in the kitchen when we weren’t home, and did they make her share? I’m pretty sure that Alfie did the conniving, while Shakes used his opposable thumbs to open the bag.
  4. Did you know that eldest son’s name has been changed to Ramonn? When they put all of the cousins’ names on the birthday cake at Costco, they spelled Eamonn’s name wrong. Do you want to know something even more bizarre? When Corey texted me to tell me that Eamonn’s new name was Ramonn, I actually texted him back and asked him ‘Why?’ That’s how out of it I am.
  5. Why is it that nothing I wear ever makes my mother happy? I show up at the cookout in my brown sundress and wedges. She announces loudly, “Why are you all dressed up? I thought this was a cookout. I don’t understand why you do this . . . ya da ya da ya da ya da.” She said the exact same thing on the day of Eamonn’s graduation. This has led to my adoption of the following standard: “I’m fat and ugly and my mother dresses me funny.”
  6. Why can’t there be another series of books like Harry Potter? While I’ve been in bed, I’ve reread books 6 and 7 in ancitipation of the movie coming out on Wednesday, which only makes me wish even more that there could be more books. And no, I’m not going to read any of the Twilight series, just on principle.
  7. Why do I continue to get notices that I’ve won the Irish Lottery, but no one is sending me any money? What’s up with that?
  8. Who will be the next to fall in the continuing saga of politicians who preach one thing but do another? And how does one go about getting on the payroll for John Ensign’s parents, you know, just to get helped out (as they put it)? (I know, I broke the whole tongue-in-cheek motif of the list, but I was just wondering . . .)
  9. Why does a commercial featuring a cartoon line drawing (Slim Shots) need a disclaimer at the bottom alerting people to the fact that results for a real person would not be the same as they are for a cartoon? Have we as a society really gotten that stupid?
  10. How can Bruno be at the top of the box office list? Is this somehow related to #9? You’re kidding me, right? People actually paid money to go see more of this crap cloaked as humor. Yeah, maybe I’ve lost my sense of humor, or maybe, I just don’t find annoying racist, bigoted skits posing as humor terribly entertaining.

I’m going to stop for now because I think that I’ve taxed my brain with just this little bit of fodder. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be able to piece together something more interesting; for instance, how can John Sandford of the Argentinian boddice-ripping e-mails actually compare himself to David in the Bible and do it with a straight face? Now that’s food for thought.

And to everyone who has been stopping by to check on me, thanks. It’s always nice to hear from you. Mean it.

More later. Peace.

Advertisements

Stress: The Gift That Keeps On Giving

An Overworked Mind

This is called “An Overworked Mind.” I can definitely relate.

 

“Politicians are the same all over. They promise to build bridges even when there are no rivers.” ~ Nikita Khrushchev (just because)

Short post for tonight, more of an update. This has been my day:

  1. Visit to my wonderful pain doctor. Sixteen, count them sixteen trigger shots from my neck all the way down and across my back to my right butt cheek. Too much information? Tough. Try getting the shots.
  2. Picked out the perfect frame for Eamonn’s prom picture. He has been bugging me ever since he got his half of the pictures that he and Kelsie had taken at the prom. They are actually very nice. When I have time, I’ll scan and post it. Anyway, stopped in Target for a quick run to look for frames since they are within 2 minutes of the pain doctor’s office. Target, who used to have a wonderful selection of frames, no longer carries much of anything. I suggested T. J. Maxx. Corey, keeping the budget in mind, relented.
  3. Went to T. J. Maxx, looked longingly at flowing sun dresses that I would love to have. Looked but did not touch. Went to frames. Found one great frame for $3.50 for the 5×7 that Eamonn gave me to put in the living room, and a nice glass drop-in frame for his picture. Managed not to spend very much money at all, and both frames cost less than one frame would have cost at Target. Take my advice thrifty shoppers: The Maxx is still the awesomest for housewares (speaking of which, saw some towels I would kill to have. Our towels are sooo old and tired).
  4. On the ride home began to feel pain from shots that I tried to keep at bay by taking pain meds after office visit. Discussed the issue of closing car factories in the U.S. and what that means to American consumers. Seriously, would you buy a brand spanking new Chrysler with one of those great deals if you knew that getting parts down the road might be a problem? Something to consider.
  5. Got home. House was hotter than hell. Trying not to use living room A/C because it is dripping water onto brick. Water damage. Yuck. Temperature was 91° F. Tried to sit down in my desk chair. Spilled my Pepsi on the bedroom floor. Shakes ran in from outside soaking wet as he wanted to show me that he had jumped in the pool. Brett was in meltdown over presentation. I considered turning around and walking back out of the house.
  6. The glass frame that I bought for Eamonn’s picture for his room was too big. Needed to do something creative. Went into Photoshop to create a lovely background to paste onto the piece of white chip board that came with the frame. Found the perfect paper in my assorted collection of decorative papers. Played around for about half an hour until I got the sizing right. Gave it to Eamonn. Actually got a “Thanks, Mom” for the effort. Yay for me. Sweating like a pig.
  7. Checked e-mail to see if there was anything from Brett’s history teacher. No. But lots of updates from Goodreads. Always fun, when I find the time. Meanwhile, Brett is pouring over index cards I printed out for him and claiming that he does not have the right stuff. What’s the right stuff, I ask, trying very hard not to lose my temper because I’m tired and perspiring like a worker on a chain gang. I don’t know. That answer won’t help me. Moving right along.
  8. Suggest to Eamonn on his way out the door that it would be nice if he calls his grandmothers to ask them personally to attend his graduation. Mumbled answer. No idea what he said.
  9. Towel on floor that is sopping up the Pepsi is shifted slightly to the right to clean up wet paw prints from Shakes coming into the house straight from pool and bypassing towel.
  10. Some kind of strange little flying beasties, not big enough to be flies, not small enough to be gnats, have taken up residence in the bedroom. It is now cooler outside of the house than inside the house. So glad I bothered to put on makeup today. Resenble the Joker.
  11. Still haven’t gotten around to taking more pain medication for the 16, count them 16 shots that I got today. Going to get right on that.
  12. Eamonn has two days of school left. Hooray? Brett still has more days left. Any days left are too many for  me.
  13. Haven’t gotten around to working on Socratic method of analyzing Macbeth, and don’t really see how that’s going to work since the whole basis of the Socratic method is question and analysis . . . whatever
  14. Would kill for a big chocolate milkshake. From Sonic. Now.
  15. Time to depart to watch Enemy at the Gates so that Brett can bone up on his Russian accent. Of the movie choices that include Russian accents, this was his choice. Pretty good choice, too. Haven’t seen this movie in a while, and if I remember correctly, it’s a good one. Seems to me at the time that it first came out, Eamonn wanted to be a sniper. Obviously, that phase has long past.
  16. Tillie is in the living room having a conversation with Brett about her ball. How do I know this? What a silly question.
  17. I think that I’ll paint my fingernails while I watch the movie. Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine instead of a milkshake.
  18. I would kill for something chocolate, preferably by Lindor, preferably in the form of Lindor balls.
  19. Did I mention that I saw some towels that would be so beautiful in the bathroom, that is, as long as you just looked at the towels and not the bathroom.
  20. I would dearly love to be able to shop for clothes that fit. Someday. Maybe this year. That would be nice. Makes me salivate to think about it, that and chocolate, and the new towels.

Oh well. Quick update. My life as it is. Can you stand the level of excitement?

More later. Peace.

A Referendum on Morality Seems Like an Oxymoron to Me

Proposition 8—The Musical

 

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Rainbow Brite

Okay, so I’m not a tremendous Jack Black fan, but I do think the guy is funny. But when I saw his latest role, it almost made Pepsi come out of my nose. I know that the clip has already gone viral, but it’s worth talking about just because of the actors who gave time to participate in it. “Proposition 8—The Musical” is a star-studded video that was written by Marc Shaiman, Tony-award winner of “Hairspray” and directed by Adam Shankman, and the actors play supporters and foes of Prop 8.

John C. Reilly and Allison Janney lead the gay marriage foes, who all happen to be dressed in Sunday best dark clothes. The “gays,” who include Margaret Cho, Maya Rudolph, Andy Richter, and Nicole Parker, are dressed in bright colors and look more like hippie protesters. And then Jack Black drops in as Jesus.

Black’s Jesus points out the hypocrisy of picking and choosing certain parts of the Bible to follow, for example the outdated notion of stoning people for their sins. Neil Patrick Harris acts as a type of Greek Chorus for the anti-gays, pointing out the economic advantages to gay marriage: “Every time a gay or lesbian finds love at the parade, there’s money to be made.”

Shaiman said that he felt some guilt over the referendum, which prompted him to act:  “I had just been taught this terrible bitter lesson about being lazy, and it lit a fire under my fat ass.” Subsequently, he wrote the piece in one day, recorded it the next and shot it in a single day in another week. Shaiman’s, in commenting on his mini-musical, declared, “If I’m going to stand on the soap box, at least let me sing and dance.” As Shaiman said on Keith Olbermann, the passage of Proposition 8 was kind of a slap in the face: “Election night, America throws this great party, and the gays [were] left off the list.”  

Truth and Consequences

The video has been called a “viral picket sign.” Personally, I think that it’s one of the boldest and best statements to come out against Proposition 8. Yes, it’s very in your face, as it’s supposed to be, but it’s also funny. The fact that we’re still trying to legislate against gay marriage in this country truly distresses me. Marriage, like many other things, should be a personal, private choice. People do not choose to be gay; they are born that way. To condemn them for something over which they have no choice or control does not seem to me to be either loving or forgiving.

Living is hard enough under the best of circumstances. Who are we to make those circumstances harder for other people simply because they want to live life just like anyone else: a house, a mortgage, life insurance policies, health insurance, maybe some children? I’ve known a lot of straight people who had no business being married. Their relationships were completely dysfunctional. They treated each other like crap, and their children suffered greatly because of it. There is nothing that says a marriage between a man and a woman is going to be perfect or better than a marriage between two women or two men. I know two men who have been together for a very long time and are married in every way except legally. They own property together, make all major decisions together, have friends together, love each other, have arguments just like any other couple. Worry over finances and whose family they will visit over the holidays. What makes their union different, or worse, wrong?

Look them in the face and tell them that their love for each other isn’t good enough. That their life together doesn’t count. That what they have isn’t real. That one of them wouldn’t grieve over the death of the other.  You cannot do it because it simply isn’t true.

The far right fundamentalists have very rigid ideas about the Bible and heaven and hell and right and wrong, and that is certainly their right. That is what this country is based on: religious and individual freedom. Far be it for me to say that they do not have the right to believe in the things in which they believe. The Mormons in Utah who poured so much money into getting Proposition 8 passed in California have the right to believe what they wish to believe as well. But it troubles me that there was a definitive blurring of church and state in this case, especially over state lines in which the LDS from UTAH came into CALIFORNIA and worked fervently for the passage of Prop 8. It seems that there should be some ramifications for the LDS church if they did not set up a separate entity to cover those massive donations.

The Circles of Hell

Essentially, according to basic theology of fundamentalism, just about all of the rest of us are going to hell: Jews, Catholics, Muslims, those who have not been born again, gays, people like me who prefer to keep my beliefs personal and private, and pretty much anyone who hasn’t answered the call to be born again. It’s a big list. On the other hand, for Muslims, all of the infidels will be going to hell. For Catholics, I’m not sure who goes to hell. Methodists and Presbyterians are a little more open about it, I believe.  Buddhists don’t believe in hell. Episcopalians are pretty close to Catholics, so I don’t know how that works, but I think that there’s purgatory in there somewhere. Unsure about Judaism. I know that a lot of the gay community worship at Unitarian Churches, so maybe there are no stipulations about hell. I think with LDS you go to hell if you do something against the prophet, and Quakers, well they’re so peaceful, I’m not sure how they would end up in hell.

I don’t even want to ponder which parts of hell where we’ll all land. It’s much too complicated and sometimes tedious, but Dante’s was very meticulous in creating places for everyone, so trust me when I say that no one should feel left out.

My point is this: why are we so concerned with who is going to hell? Shouldn’t we be more concerned with our own paths? I mean, my path has been pretty rocky. I know that I haven’t been a saint, but neither have I been a great sinner. In living my life, I would think that judgment for others is the last thing that I have time on which to dwell. I’m still acutely aware that my journey is not even remotely over. Like Frost, I “took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”

If we’ve learned nothing in the past few months, then perhaps we need to go back a little bit farther in time. For example, let’s take a look at one man who spent 27 years in a prison cell unjustly and never gave up hope, who came out still believing in the goodness of people, in equality for all, and the possibility of change:

“Our single most important challenge is therefore to help establish a social order in

 which the freedom of the individual will truly mean the freedom of the individual.

We must construct that people-centered society of freedom in such a manner

that it guarantees the political liberties and the human rights of all our citizens.
~
Nelson Mandela

Speech at the opening of the South African parliament, Cape Town 25 May 1994.

 

More later. Peace.

Pepsi, Twizzlers and Muscle Relaxers

 Today is a day for celebration. Corey finished his STCW class, which apparently is a big deal when you are a merchant marine. At least, I know that it’s a big deal when you are trying to get your Mate of Towing license for bigger boats, and now he’s completed another hurdle on his way to allow him to drive bigger tugboats. The fact that he’s done all of this training on his own I find phenomenal. A lot of the people who do this training are sent by their companies. Corey and I have paid for all of these courses on our own (with some help from some family along the way), but it’s been his personal goals and drive that have gotten him to this point, and I am incredibly proud of him.

These last few months, though, have been tough and easy. Tough financially, but easy in the sense that Corey has been my bulwark. He has taken care of me in every way, right down to the cooking and laundry. Once he gets back on a boat, that means that I have to find my way back to the kitchen, and that, my friends, is going to be tough. You see, I have developed some strange ideas as to what a balanced diet consists of, and I know that it is not what a growing teenage boy should subsist on. For me, I could be perfectly content living on a diet of pepsi, twizzlers, and cereal, as long as I have my muscle relaxers to ease the back spasms. Throw in some ice cream occasionally, and I’m a happy camper. Now, none of the above requires cooking, or even use of the microwave.

Please don’t misunderstand. I have a gorgeous double oven, stainless steel gas stove, Calphalon pots, Henkel knives and various and sundry other wonderful kitchen staples. And, I am well-acquainted with how to use them. I used to cook all of the time, and quite well, I might add. In fact, I cooked all of the food for Corey’s sister’s wedding as my wedding present to her. I doubt that I could replicate such a feat again! I rarely used cook books as I am a pinch chef, i.e., a pinch of this seasoning until the aroma suggests that the flavor is just right. I make wonderful marinades for beef and chicken. I can stir fry with the best of them. I have been perfecting a spaghetti sauce recipe since I was 14, my cousins the unfortunate test subjects of my first batches.

The truth, however, is that I just don’t like to cook any more. I grew tired of it, and Corey began to love the kitchen, so I gladly gave it over to him. Now, though, I know that he, too, has grown weary of cooking. So once he goes back to his boat, I will have to find my way around the knives and pans again. I don’t mind it so much, but it does tend to hurt my back after just a half an hour or so. And if we ever do get around to putting in the tile floor that we want in the kitchen, I’m not sure how well I’ll hold up. So for now, I’ll have to limit myself to dishes that require minimal prep time, and maybe I’ll be able to find my groove again. After all, I can’t make my sons eat microwave pizzas every night of the week.

The Boys
The Boys

Oh well. We must move forward. Corey gets his certification. I give up Twizzlers for dinner and become reacquainted with my kitchen. Maybe I can teach each of my sons to cook a dish (besides macaroni and cheese and tuna). And maybe porcine, four-legged animals will sprout wings and lift off from my roof . . . . . . . . . .

Yep. I’ll hold my breath on that one.