While in Connecticut, I've become an adjunct member of Frank's family. The problem with being so busy, though, is that there are spans of time where I am not able to see much of them.
I receive remarks such as, "What you don't like us anymore?" from Frank's brother John Paul, or "Hey, stranger! I'm so glad to see you're still alive," from Angela, his fiancee. Last weekend after Mass, Frank's mother came up to me in the vestibule with her eyebrows raised: "I miss you," she said, very sincerely, almost sternly.
So this past week, I found a half hour to stop by the house and say hello. It continually amazes me how welcoming the family is to me--my entrance was as joyous as a long-lost friend, and as comfortable as a daughter of the house. After greetings and hugs and expressions of gratitude that I came, I was immediately led down into the basement to inspect the rennovations being done on John Paul and Angela's future apartment.
And yesterday, for the first time since before Thanksgiving, I was able to attend Sunday dinner at Sharon's house. It was Tony's first invitation: Sharon said it was his baptism into the Marchetti Sunday dinners. :)
Not everyone was there--only about half of the family could make it--but the Marchetti grandchildren were all present, which makes up a lot of the bustling and noise and laughter that draws everyone together. And of course, the political theory and religious updates and critique of culture were all loudly put forth and thrown around the table.
Sometimes I put my two cents in when I feel the need (usually every possible viewpoint is already represented!) but generally, I like to sit back. Literally. I sit back in my chair, look around, smile, and thank God for these good people who have welcomed me into their hearts.
I am blessed with this special sort of familial support, even living so far from the stronghold of my parents' love and encouragement. They can never give me what I receive from my true family--not even close--but their generous love and concern surround me like armor and prepare me for another week.
And so the week begins...
Monday, January 30, 2006
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Angelic Painter
Went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art today to check out the Fra Angelico exhibit. It's only there until tomorrow, so we had to get down there!
It was beautiful. Not as good as seeing the actual cell walls at San Marco in Florence, but it was well worth the time, effort, and admission donation.
We took the train down from Stamford. There was short-lived apprehension while I located my ticket for the conductor in one of my many pockets on the way down. I then handed it over to Tony for safe-keeping. We are alike in many ways. Unfortunately, some of those ways are all too uncomplementary: first of all, both of us are lacking in sense of direction, although I seem to be able to muster it when I'm making an effort. Today, however, it was discovered that we share the inability to keep things from getting lost. Either that or it's contagious. Whichever way it works, he lost my ticket--although he did not lose his own, which was interesting. He ended up paying for my train ride (a second time) when we got back on the train this afternoon to go home ....
Memories of Paris with lovely friend, Alissa: Buying a ten-pack of subway passes ... half an hour later, looking in every pocket I own, frantically searching, but laughing with my friend at the irony of it all ... Alissa being in charge of "all important documents except the passport" from that point onward ...
I used to think it'd get better as I get older. Maybe not.
But as I mentioned, the exhibit was worth the trip. I told the family I babysit for on Saturdays all about it, and I think they're going to try to make it after Mass tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I shall plan another trip to Italy.
It was beautiful. Not as good as seeing the actual cell walls at San Marco in Florence, but it was well worth the time, effort, and admission donation.
We took the train down from Stamford. There was short-lived apprehension while I located my ticket for the conductor in one of my many pockets on the way down. I then handed it over to Tony for safe-keeping. We are alike in many ways. Unfortunately, some of those ways are all too uncomplementary: first of all, both of us are lacking in sense of direction, although I seem to be able to muster it when I'm making an effort. Today, however, it was discovered that we share the inability to keep things from getting lost. Either that or it's contagious. Whichever way it works, he lost my ticket--although he did not lose his own, which was interesting. He ended up paying for my train ride (a second time) when we got back on the train this afternoon to go home ....
Memories of Paris with lovely friend, Alissa: Buying a ten-pack of subway passes ... half an hour later, looking in every pocket I own, frantically searching, but laughing with my friend at the irony of it all ... Alissa being in charge of "all important documents except the passport" from that point onward ...
I used to think it'd get better as I get older. Maybe not.
But as I mentioned, the exhibit was worth the trip. I told the family I babysit for on Saturdays all about it, and I think they're going to try to make it after Mass tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I shall plan another trip to Italy.
Monday, January 23, 2006
How Can I Keep from Singing?
Back on a schedule and into a routine.
I am so excited about this semester. It's going to be so much work, but it's all relevant to the work that I'll be doing when I'm finally out in the field (funny that there's that distinction, even at this level of education!). And much of the difficult stuff is group work; my group consists of my three closest friends at school; so instead of being busy and not being able to see them, I'll be forced to see much of them over the next 5 months!
Two large breaks--spring break and Easter break--plus a few less credits scheduled in order to give us time for our projects ... all this contributes to my relief that this semester may not be dreadful.
Add to that the latest gift from St. Anthony: "...out of the blue clear sky."
I can't stop smiling.
How can I keep from singing?
I am so excited about this semester. It's going to be so much work, but it's all relevant to the work that I'll be doing when I'm finally out in the field (funny that there's that distinction, even at this level of education!). And much of the difficult stuff is group work; my group consists of my three closest friends at school; so instead of being busy and not being able to see them, I'll be forced to see much of them over the next 5 months!
Two large breaks--spring break and Easter break--plus a few less credits scheduled in order to give us time for our projects ... all this contributes to my relief that this semester may not be dreadful.
Add to that the latest gift from St. Anthony: "...out of the blue clear sky."
I can't stop smiling.
How can I keep from singing?
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Please define "weird"
Aaaack! I've been Memed! Which I would have assumed to mean, "attacked by a Portia bean." But it's not that. It means that I've been tagged by Nutmeg to participate in some strange form of self-revelation.
Rules: The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits of yourself," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You are tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.
5 weird habits, by Sephora
Disclaimer: I'm not sure what constitutes "weird." I am going to assume that "weird habits" include my habits that I doubt most others have. For example, the fact that I brush my teeth twice a day is not a "weird habit," since I assume that most people do as much. This, however, is not a proper definition, as one should never define something by what it is not. The use of a universal negative leaves us with the idea "weird habits" are merely the original pieces of individual self-expression. But whatever....
1. I tend to clean kitchens wherever I go. Yes, it's polite to help out in the kitchen when you are invited over, but at friends' houses, that's usually my first destination, where I immediately start doing dishes and wiping counters. At home, I cannot get any other work done if the kitchen is dirty.
2. When I really look forward to emailing someone in particular, I don't let myself do it until I've responded to all the emails in my Inbox. In some strange way, I feel bad that I enjoy writing some emails more than others, so I put my
preferences last.
3. I have much more fun cleaning house, cooking, and baking when I'm wearing a skirt or dress. So while some people save old pairs of jeans, I have a dress with bleach stains on it that I wear with an apron for housework.
4. Bedsheets and towels all must be folded with the right side out. If I fold them the other way by mistake, I have to shake them out and re-fold them.
5. When I'm driving, I don't listen to music until I've said my rosary that day. If I'm tired, I must say my rosary out loud to prevent myself from losing focus or getting sleepy. If I pray out loud, I put my headset on so that I don't appear to be talking to myself. (I suppose I care if people think that I'm talking to myself!)
This tagging business is going to turn into who will actually respond, like those silly questionnaires that people send to their friends. So here is my tag-team:
Most likely to respond: Austin, Texas, the most recent addition to my sidebar, from whom I anticipate continual greatness.
Least likely to respond: Erin-Roommate, who is more busy than I (Recipe: wedding planning, graduate school, independent Arabic study; Mix well.)
Most likely to respond with excuses describing why he won't respond to the actual post: Nevermore, who has more serious concerns and more pressing things to get out of his head and into writing.
Crap-shoots, but I'd be sooo interested to hear from them: Donzilla and Jedno
Rules: The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits of yourself," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don't forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says "You are tagged" (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.
5 weird habits, by Sephora
Disclaimer: I'm not sure what constitutes "weird." I am going to assume that "weird habits" include my habits that I doubt most others have. For example, the fact that I brush my teeth twice a day is not a "weird habit," since I assume that most people do as much. This, however, is not a proper definition, as one should never define something by what it is not. The use of a universal negative leaves us with the idea "weird habits" are merely the original pieces of individual self-expression. But whatever....
1. I tend to clean kitchens wherever I go. Yes, it's polite to help out in the kitchen when you are invited over, but at friends' houses, that's usually my first destination, where I immediately start doing dishes and wiping counters. At home, I cannot get any other work done if the kitchen is dirty.
2. When I really look forward to emailing someone in particular, I don't let myself do it until I've responded to all the emails in my Inbox. In some strange way, I feel bad that I enjoy writing some emails more than others, so I put my
preferences last.
3. I have much more fun cleaning house, cooking, and baking when I'm wearing a skirt or dress. So while some people save old pairs of jeans, I have a dress with bleach stains on it that I wear with an apron for housework.
4. Bedsheets and towels all must be folded with the right side out. If I fold them the other way by mistake, I have to shake them out and re-fold them.
5. When I'm driving, I don't listen to music until I've said my rosary that day. If I'm tired, I must say my rosary out loud to prevent myself from losing focus or getting sleepy. If I pray out loud, I put my headset on so that I don't appear to be talking to myself. (I suppose I care if people think that I'm talking to myself!)
This tagging business is going to turn into who will actually respond, like those silly questionnaires that people send to their friends. So here is my tag-team:
Most likely to respond: Austin, Texas, the most recent addition to my sidebar, from whom I anticipate continual greatness.
Least likely to respond: Erin-Roommate, who is more busy than I (Recipe: wedding planning, graduate school, independent Arabic study; Mix well.)
Most likely to respond with excuses describing why he won't respond to the actual post: Nevermore, who has more serious concerns and more pressing things to get out of his head and into writing.
Crap-shoots, but I'd be sooo interested to hear from them: Donzilla and Jedno
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Scccraape!
My flight was delayed, so instead of arriving in New York at 6:20am, I arrived at 7:45am. Oh, gooh-day.
And there was Tony at JetBlue's baggage claim, looking like 3-in-the-afternoon, as I wearily hugged him and thanked him for saving me from a hideous Metro North train ride. Although I got very little sleep on the plane, I was determined not to nap during the day, so that I could adjust to the 2-hour time loss more quickly.
"So that means you want to do something fun and exciting?" Tony chirped.
"Umm, sure," I replied.
After a lovely breakfast and noon Mass, he suggested ice-skating. I readily agreed.
I didn't realize how prices had risen since I was a child. I remember being able to skate for 4 hours for about $5, maybe an extra $1 or so if you needed rentals (which we never needed, of course!). Tony and I arrived at the rink about 30 minutes before the meager 2-hour public skate slot closed, and the guy charged us $10 each! That didn't even include the rental!
"We're right near Greenwich, remember," Tony reasoned with me. Oh, yes. Where you have to pay rent just to breathe. I forgot.
I was determined to make it worth the money. This was difficult to do when certain aspects of my presentation made me feel like I'd just woken up...all day long:
3 hours of sleep on an airplane
No make-up to hide the dark shadows
Eyeglasses that started making my head ache behind my ears
Same clothes for the last 12+ hours: a wrinkled khaki skirt and a turtleneck too stretched to stay close to my neck anymore
But we had fun. We took the advice of a woman teaching her young daughter how to figure skate, and "pushed through our heels." Still, there were a few close calls in that short half-hour period!
I enjoyed my first day back--no work, no GA work, no school work.
It was a good time spent with a friend who is usually up to ears in work and stress himself. Scraping the ice was a great way to ease into this next semester.
And there was Tony at JetBlue's baggage claim, looking like 3-in-the-afternoon, as I wearily hugged him and thanked him for saving me from a hideous Metro North train ride. Although I got very little sleep on the plane, I was determined not to nap during the day, so that I could adjust to the 2-hour time loss more quickly.
"So that means you want to do something fun and exciting?" Tony chirped.
"Umm, sure," I replied.
After a lovely breakfast and noon Mass, he suggested ice-skating. I readily agreed.
I didn't realize how prices had risen since I was a child. I remember being able to skate for 4 hours for about $5, maybe an extra $1 or so if you needed rentals (which we never needed, of course!). Tony and I arrived at the rink about 30 minutes before the meager 2-hour public skate slot closed, and the guy charged us $10 each! That didn't even include the rental!
"We're right near Greenwich, remember," Tony reasoned with me. Oh, yes. Where you have to pay rent just to breathe. I forgot.
I was determined to make it worth the money. This was difficult to do when certain aspects of my presentation made me feel like I'd just woken up...all day long:
3 hours of sleep on an airplane
No make-up to hide the dark shadows
Eyeglasses that started making my head ache behind my ears
Same clothes for the last 12+ hours: a wrinkled khaki skirt and a turtleneck too stretched to stay close to my neck anymore
But we had fun. We took the advice of a woman teaching her young daughter how to figure skate, and "pushed through our heels." Still, there were a few close calls in that short half-hour period!
I enjoyed my first day back--no work, no GA work, no school work.
It was a good time spent with a friend who is usually up to ears in work and stress himself. Scraping the ice was a great way to ease into this next semester.
Friday, December 30, 2005
'Tis the Season...
...to receive emails and cards from people I never hear from otherwise.
Thank God! I'm grateful we feel that special obligation during the Christmas season to "reconnect" with old friends who have fallen off our individually constructed glory trains.
The last I heard from one of my friends, she was married and expecting a child. This Christmas, after mouse-clicking on the most probable-looking Hungarian by-lines, I reached her holiday greeting, written in English:
"Marcel is one and a half year old, and I am expecting again."
This leads me to conclude that
1. Her first child was a little boy
2. She still knows how to communicate in English
3. It's been way too long since I was in touch with her
The other day, I settled into an antique chair with a pot of tea at my favorite coffee shop (after clocking out, of course!). I pulled out my address book to write some of my own Christmas cards. Wow--I couldn't get past "B" without a self-conscious feeling of guilt. When did it happen? I used to be the one to keep in touch with people. Letters were my main source of contact for several of my friends.
As I started writing one particular card, I wracked my brain, trying to remember when my last contact with this person was. I really had no idea where to start. And then I didn't know where to finish! I ended up digging in my purse for extra paper--the index card I found there was soon packed with extra verbage.
Sighing, I quickly scribbled holiday well-wishes on the next 4 cards, resistant to the idea of composing novels for each of my faraway friends. But it was sobering, realizing how much I could write... how remisce I have been in my correspondence with people in my life who have given me so much.
Which thoughts led me to the drafting of a New Years resolution. I have not yet perfected the actual statement, but it will have something to do with letter-writing and old friends.
Meanwhile, I have a few more Christmas cards to go....
Thank God! I'm grateful we feel that special obligation during the Christmas season to "reconnect" with old friends who have fallen off our individually constructed glory trains.
The last I heard from one of my friends, she was married and expecting a child. This Christmas, after mouse-clicking on the most probable-looking Hungarian by-lines, I reached her holiday greeting, written in English:
"Marcel is one and a half year old, and I am expecting again."
This leads me to conclude that
1. Her first child was a little boy
2. She still knows how to communicate in English
3. It's been way too long since I was in touch with her
The other day, I settled into an antique chair with a pot of tea at my favorite coffee shop (after clocking out, of course!). I pulled out my address book to write some of my own Christmas cards. Wow--I couldn't get past "B" without a self-conscious feeling of guilt. When did it happen? I used to be the one to keep in touch with people. Letters were my main source of contact for several of my friends.
As I started writing one particular card, I wracked my brain, trying to remember when my last contact with this person was. I really had no idea where to start. And then I didn't know where to finish! I ended up digging in my purse for extra paper--the index card I found there was soon packed with extra verbage.
Sighing, I quickly scribbled holiday well-wishes on the next 4 cards, resistant to the idea of composing novels for each of my faraway friends. But it was sobering, realizing how much I could write... how remisce I have been in my correspondence with people in my life who have given me so much.
Which thoughts led me to the drafting of a New Years resolution. I have not yet perfected the actual statement, but it will have something to do with letter-writing and old friends.
Meanwhile, I have a few more Christmas cards to go....
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Counting Pennies
Yep, it's that time of the semester again: the END of it.
...where inevitably, I end up sitting on my bed the night before my last exam, counting up all my loose change; then I go digging through every pocket of every article of clothing that I own in order to find more. This way, after my exam the following day, I can proceed to the bank with my Ziploc bag of checks, bills, and coins before I leave for home, plop it on the teller's counter, and declare with confidence, "I have [so many] dollars and [this much] cents to deposit today!"
I've figured out how many bills will be subtracted from my account without me here to replenish it.
I've exhausted every possibility of rebate and refund that I can think of.
Now it's time to take my test, and start my Christmas vacation!
...where inevitably, I end up sitting on my bed the night before my last exam, counting up all my loose change; then I go digging through every pocket of every article of clothing that I own in order to find more. This way, after my exam the following day, I can proceed to the bank with my Ziploc bag of checks, bills, and coins before I leave for home, plop it on the teller's counter, and declare with confidence, "I have [so many] dollars and [this much] cents to deposit today!"
I've figured out how many bills will be subtracted from my account without me here to replenish it.
I've exhausted every possibility of rebate and refund that I can think of.
Now it's time to take my test, and start my Christmas vacation!
Sunday, December 04, 2005
"Life is too short...
...not to celebrate birthdays."
That's what the napkins said at our large family birthday party last night.
Friday was Grandpa's 85th birthday. I called him on Thursday and got my birthday greetings in early.
"Oh, thank you , but you know," he told me, "we stopped counting birthdays after 55."
It didn't seem like it, though, at my Uncle Kevin and Aunt Kathleen's house last night! There were helium balloons wherever a flat surface stood empty. Food filled the kitchen table, drinks and snacks filled the breakfast bar, and everywhere, there were relatives: squeezing past one another in doorways, sidestepping around the affectionate golden retriever, carrying plates to and fro from the kitchen, chatting and laughing and teasing. Interestingly enough, while planning the desserts and setting out food, everyone kept saying that we were "not a big group." It was true. In comparison to most family gatherings, there were not too many present. Several people were not able to make it, for one reason or another. However, those who were there filled the house with conversation and laughter.
I met one cousin's fiance whom I've been waiting to meet for about a year, and two other cousins' girlfriends that I've heard about for what seems like forever.
Grandma and Grandpa sat on the sofa, happy to include in their conversations anyone who ventured into the living room. After dessert, Grandpa opened all of his cards and gifts. One family gave him (updated) framed pictures of each grandchild for their photo collection. As each one was displayed and passed around the room, Grandma got newly excited that the pictures were "theirs to keep."
"This is for us? We get to take this home? Oh, how nice!" she kept saying.
To which Grandpa replied at one point, "Well, that's the whole point of all this--to collect the loot!"
As she admired her granddaughter's picture, Grandma asked, "Now, did Grandma Tallon get one of these?"
After her Laura assured her--on a few separate occasions--that yes, her other grandmother had received one, Grandma asked yet again.
The eldest in that family, Michael, spoke up. "Now, now, Grandma. It's not a competition!"
Soon everything was opened and set aside. Aunt Kathleen told her eldest son to sign the card on the counter before Grandma and Grandpa left. Apparently, he had missed the opportunity beforehand. He's a recent college graduate, more recently real estate certified--complete with the business suit and briefcase--the kind of kid who looks like he's got it all together. He obediently grabbed the card he saw on the indicated counter and added his name to the bottom. His mother's sister was close to tears from laughing so hard as she returned to the living room and told the story. Of course, then we had to pass around the card, at the expense of the poor guy, who just looked on, grinning and shaking his head. For at the bottom of this particular card was scripted, "Love, Rich & Jim," and below that in a different pen, "Bobby."
I guess he didn't stop to wonder why it would make sense for him to sign this card instead of the one from his family--complete with all of his siblings' names on it.
"I just do what I'm told," he said, "Mom said 'sign the card,' so I signed the card!"
"At least you didn't write your name on top!" Uncle Richard ragged.
While we were having cake, Grandpa quieted everyone with his paternal declaration:
"Well, you can have all the food, you can have all the gifts, you can have all the decorations and all that ... but what means the most to me is looking around and seeing this beautiful gathering of all my people. Thank you. ...And there will be no further speeches."
A good time was had by all; everyone left between 10:30 and 11pm, and I went up to bed. I coughed, tossed, turned, repositioned, and popped cough drops for about an hour. Then Aunt Kathleen brought in a vaporizer. It had a miraculous effect: almost as soon as she plugged it in, I stopped coughing and got a good night's sleep!
When I awoke and looked out the window, I did a double-take: 3 inches of snow covered the ground, and more was falling. Although it was beautiful, I was worried about my drive home.
A firm grip on the wheel, a good deal of prayer, and some windshield washer fluid found me safe in Stamford for the 10am Mass.
What's that?
Finals this week?
...Oh, yeah!
But it was worth it.
"Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles in the cold."
~ Andre Maurois
That's what the napkins said at our large family birthday party last night.
Friday was Grandpa's 85th birthday. I called him on Thursday and got my birthday greetings in early.
"Oh, thank you , but you know," he told me, "we stopped counting birthdays after 55."
It didn't seem like it, though, at my Uncle Kevin and Aunt Kathleen's house last night! There were helium balloons wherever a flat surface stood empty. Food filled the kitchen table, drinks and snacks filled the breakfast bar, and everywhere, there were relatives: squeezing past one another in doorways, sidestepping around the affectionate golden retriever, carrying plates to and fro from the kitchen, chatting and laughing and teasing. Interestingly enough, while planning the desserts and setting out food, everyone kept saying that we were "not a big group." It was true. In comparison to most family gatherings, there were not too many present. Several people were not able to make it, for one reason or another. However, those who were there filled the house with conversation and laughter.
I met one cousin's fiance whom I've been waiting to meet for about a year, and two other cousins' girlfriends that I've heard about for what seems like forever.
Grandma and Grandpa sat on the sofa, happy to include in their conversations anyone who ventured into the living room. After dessert, Grandpa opened all of his cards and gifts. One family gave him (updated) framed pictures of each grandchild for their photo collection. As each one was displayed and passed around the room, Grandma got newly excited that the pictures were "theirs to keep."
"This is for us? We get to take this home? Oh, how nice!" she kept saying.
To which Grandpa replied at one point, "Well, that's the whole point of all this--to collect the loot!"
As she admired her granddaughter's picture, Grandma asked, "Now, did Grandma Tallon get one of these?"
After her Laura assured her--on a few separate occasions--that yes, her other grandmother had received one, Grandma asked yet again.
The eldest in that family, Michael, spoke up. "Now, now, Grandma. It's not a competition!"
Soon everything was opened and set aside. Aunt Kathleen told her eldest son to sign the card on the counter before Grandma and Grandpa left. Apparently, he had missed the opportunity beforehand. He's a recent college graduate, more recently real estate certified--complete with the business suit and briefcase--the kind of kid who looks like he's got it all together. He obediently grabbed the card he saw on the indicated counter and added his name to the bottom. His mother's sister was close to tears from laughing so hard as she returned to the living room and told the story. Of course, then we had to pass around the card, at the expense of the poor guy, who just looked on, grinning and shaking his head. For at the bottom of this particular card was scripted, "Love, Rich & Jim," and below that in a different pen, "Bobby."
I guess he didn't stop to wonder why it would make sense for him to sign this card instead of the one from his family--complete with all of his siblings' names on it.
"I just do what I'm told," he said, "Mom said 'sign the card,' so I signed the card!"
"At least you didn't write your name on top!" Uncle Richard ragged.
While we were having cake, Grandpa quieted everyone with his paternal declaration:
"Well, you can have all the food, you can have all the gifts, you can have all the decorations and all that ... but what means the most to me is looking around and seeing this beautiful gathering of all my people. Thank you. ...And there will be no further speeches."
A good time was had by all; everyone left between 10:30 and 11pm, and I went up to bed. I coughed, tossed, turned, repositioned, and popped cough drops for about an hour. Then Aunt Kathleen brought in a vaporizer. It had a miraculous effect: almost as soon as she plugged it in, I stopped coughing and got a good night's sleep!
When I awoke and looked out the window, I did a double-take: 3 inches of snow covered the ground, and more was falling. Although it was beautiful, I was worried about my drive home.
A firm grip on the wheel, a good deal of prayer, and some windshield washer fluid found me safe in Stamford for the 10am Mass.
What's that?
Finals this week?
...Oh, yeah!
But it was worth it.
"Without a family, man, alone in the world, trembles in the cold."
~ Andre Maurois
Sunday, November 27, 2005
If you cook it ...
My personal continuation of the weekend so adroitly coordinated by Nutmeg and her DH....
As it turns out, I gradually became aware of a large and larger gathering of friends and friends of friends from That--College's Beloved Class of '02. Where? Well, ...where else? Washington D.C.--the capitol of reunions, the bastion of traditions, the city of national pride, where the free and brave congregate.
Even if they're from Canada.
(ahem).
In their cars and on the planes, they came to celebrate a Saturday Thanksgiving together. So I was not going to be absent.
I landed in Newark around 3:30pm (this particular airport is in the state of New Joy-zeh) and promptly rented a car to transport my body a few states away, to Virginia. ...to the home of a beautiful little Irish lady, who happened to be spending her Thanksgiving with the rest of her daughter's family in Ojai, California. (Two of her grandchildren hosted the rest of us in this, her Virginia home).
By the time I sorted my way through traffic and road-signs hidden by the darkness, it was after 9pm. But I was received with open arms by dear friends both seen and unseen these past 3 years. Represented: Maryland, Massachusetts, New Mexico, Kansas, Washington, California, South Dakota, Alabama, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Michigan, Connecticut, Washington D.C., British Columbia and Ontario ... ex-couples having beers together, meeting new significant others ... students and professionals rehashing old arguments surrounding life and its meaning ... the undistinguishable mix of alumni with honorary class members ... current friends of old friends ... definitely an evening worthy of attendance.
After a mandatory farewell breakfast at the local "Pete's" substitute of Vienna, Virginia, it was on the road again! We dropped my car off at Baltimore's airport and I joined the Stamford sisters to continue the journey up to Connecticut. We chose to drive the round-about 6-hour route through Pennsylvania, rather than spend 8 hours on the 4-hour route through NYC. It worked out splendidly. I arrived home to my apartment shortly after 6:30pm, ready for the 2 and 1/2 weeks of school ahead!
Sore from the soccer game, sick from aireborne pathogens on the airplane, attacking my helpless Echinacea-Goldenseal deprived self.
Shower ...
tea ...
goldenseal ...
bed.
As it turns out, I gradually became aware of a large and larger gathering of friends and friends of friends from That--College's Beloved Class of '02. Where? Well, ...where else? Washington D.C.--the capitol of reunions, the bastion of traditions, the city of national pride, where the free and brave congregate.
Even if they're from Canada.
In their cars and on the planes, they came to celebrate a Saturday Thanksgiving together. So I was not going to be absent.
I landed in Newark around 3:30pm (this particular airport is in the state of New Joy-zeh) and promptly rented a car to transport my body a few states away, to Virginia. ...to the home of a beautiful little Irish lady, who happened to be spending her Thanksgiving with the rest of her daughter's family in Ojai, California. (Two of her grandchildren hosted the rest of us in this, her Virginia home).
By the time I sorted my way through traffic and road-signs hidden by the darkness, it was after 9pm. But I was received with open arms by dear friends both seen and unseen these past 3 years. Represented: Maryland, Massachusetts, New Mexico, Kansas, Washington, California, South Dakota, Alabama, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Michigan, Connecticut, Washington D.C., British Columbia and Ontario ... ex-couples having beers together, meeting new significant others ... students and professionals rehashing old arguments surrounding life and its meaning ... the undistinguishable mix of alumni with honorary class members ... current friends of old friends ... definitely an evening worthy of attendance.
After a mandatory farewell breakfast at the local "Pete's" substitute of Vienna, Virginia, it was on the road again! We dropped my car off at Baltimore's airport and I joined the Stamford sisters to continue the journey up to Connecticut. We chose to drive the round-about 6-hour route through Pennsylvania, rather than spend 8 hours on the 4-hour route through NYC. It worked out splendidly. I arrived home to my apartment shortly after 6:30pm, ready for the 2 and 1/2 weeks of school ahead!
Sore from the soccer game, sick from aireborne pathogens on the airplane, attacking my helpless Echinacea-Goldenseal deprived self.
Shower ...
tea ...
goldenseal ...
bed.
Monday, November 21, 2005
"Family" Holidays
"Have you decided yet where you'll be for Thanksgiving?" my mother asks, three days before the holiday. Ah, yes; she's learning my style. One advantage (disadvantage?) of being single is that plans can shift an infinite number of times, depending on which direction the traffic is moving, or who I meet at Mass that morning, or what line I'm in at the grocery store. I don't really need to decide what I'm doing, since no one will be disappointed with wherever I end up. :)
I know for sure I'll be spending the night in Stamford tomorrow night, with "the girls." We'll actually be able to hang out, instead of spending hours sitting silently at their kitchen table, each of us typing away on a computer or reading a book or grading papers.
"So I'm thinking maybe I'll just pack for the whole week and weekend," I tell Mom. "They have an air mattress. I might as well take advantage of several days' vacation."
Why come back to my lonely apartment when I have these great friends just 30 miles away?
However, a unique family longing comes with every holiday season. As a college freshman, I only started feeling homesick when I was helping to set the tables for our campus-wide Thanksgiving dinner. There's something attractive about the prospect of living close to my family again. Something very exciting about the possibility of actually helping to plan the holiday schedule ... maybe someday hosting everyone in my own home.
It's interesting how we "create" some sort of family wherever we go. It's as automatic as squinting when it's bright outside. That's why there's this choosiness when it comes to deciding what to do for the holidays. First choice is the familiar, second choice is the next most familiar. Indecision comes when two different second choice-types of "familiar" are both available.
At least Christmas break is only 3 weeks away... :)
I know for sure I'll be spending the night in Stamford tomorrow night, with "the girls." We'll actually be able to hang out, instead of spending hours sitting silently at their kitchen table, each of us typing away on a computer or reading a book or grading papers.
"So I'm thinking maybe I'll just pack for the whole week and weekend," I tell Mom. "They have an air mattress. I might as well take advantage of several days' vacation."
Why come back to my lonely apartment when I have these great friends just 30 miles away?
However, a unique family longing comes with every holiday season. As a college freshman, I only started feeling homesick when I was helping to set the tables for our campus-wide Thanksgiving dinner. There's something attractive about the prospect of living close to my family again. Something very exciting about the possibility of actually helping to plan the holiday schedule ... maybe someday hosting everyone in my own home.
It's interesting how we "create" some sort of family wherever we go. It's as automatic as squinting when it's bright outside. That's why there's this choosiness when it comes to deciding what to do for the holidays. First choice is the familiar, second choice is the next most familiar. Indecision comes when two different second choice-types of "familiar" are both available.
At least Christmas break is only 3 weeks away... :)
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Chop!
I've been needing a hair trim since July. That means my last trim was not in July. My last trim was in May, right before the Remstads' wedding.
Finally, I set aside some time this past Saturday. Thaisa sits me in her kitchen, turns on Seldom Scene, and asks me the million-dollar question:
"How much to you want taken off?"
"Ummm," I run my fingers slowly down its impressive length. I haven't had it this long since sophomore year of college. "As much as necessary to make it not-yucky again. See how it frays down here?"
"Ok, ...so 2 inches? 3 inches?"
"Let's make it 3!" I say it enthusiastically, with mock courage.
She arranges the top layer of extra hair on top of my head, and soon I feel strips of my lower layer being separated out, followed by the crisp: shwick! of the scissors.
"Ummm ...?" I whine.
"Don't hate me...!" she cries back in a whisper.
"I don't hate you. I trust you," I assure her, reminding myself of all the haircuts this woman was responsible for at That Anonymous College. "Thank you so much for doing this. ...How's it looking?"
"Well, ..." she pauses. "Um. It really needed to be trimmed."
"Yeah. Ok. It's pretty bad, huh? How embarrassing."
"Oh, don't worry. Do you remember when the 'bob' was in? ...just kidding!!"
I chuckle with relief.
Then it's all finished. I can tell by Thaisa's face that it looks really different. She is anxiously waiting for my reaction.
I put my hand up to my head, and thread my fingers from my forehead to my neck.Good sign: I can still fit my hair behind my ears. I go look in the bathroom mirror. The layers are clean and defined. I take a shower; it takes me less than 10 minutes. I dry my hair; less than 5. I tell Thaisa that maybe I want to keep it this length. She breathes a sigh of relief.
I go out with classmates.
"Did you donate it?" one asks.
It's a trim, people. It's still a trim.
Finally, I set aside some time this past Saturday. Thaisa sits me in her kitchen, turns on Seldom Scene, and asks me the million-dollar question:
"How much to you want taken off?"
"Ummm," I run my fingers slowly down its impressive length. I haven't had it this long since sophomore year of college. "As much as necessary to make it not-yucky again. See how it frays down here?"
"Ok, ...so 2 inches? 3 inches?"
"Let's make it 3!" I say it enthusiastically, with mock courage.
She arranges the top layer of extra hair on top of my head, and soon I feel strips of my lower layer being separated out, followed by the crisp: shwick! of the scissors.
"Ummm ...?" I whine.
"Don't hate me...!" she cries back in a whisper.
"I don't hate you. I trust you," I assure her, reminding myself of all the haircuts this woman was responsible for at That Anonymous College. "Thank you so much for doing this. ...How's it looking?"
"Well, ..." she pauses. "Um. It really needed to be trimmed."
"Yeah. Ok. It's pretty bad, huh? How embarrassing."
"Oh, don't worry. Do you remember when the 'bob' was in? ...just kidding!!"
I chuckle with relief.
Then it's all finished. I can tell by Thaisa's face that it looks really different. She is anxiously waiting for my reaction.
I put my hand up to my head, and thread my fingers from my forehead to my neck.Good sign: I can still fit my hair behind my ears. I go look in the bathroom mirror. The layers are clean and defined. I take a shower; it takes me less than 10 minutes. I dry my hair; less than 5. I tell Thaisa that maybe I want to keep it this length. She breathes a sigh of relief.
I go out with classmates.
"Did you donate it?" one asks.
It's a trim, people. It's still a trim.
Andrew - Gems
Me: Andrew, what would you like to do now? We can read part of one of your chapter books, listen to music, go outside and play, or work on math homework.
Andrew: Let's do some stretches.
Me: Really? You want to do your stretches with me?
Andrew: Yes. I would like to do some stretches.
Me: Wow. I didn't even give that as an option. Let's do it! Would you like to put on some music? Stretches on the bed or on the floor?
Andrew: [pressing 'Play' on his CD player] On my bed.
Me: Great. [lifting his 60lbs out of his power chair]
Andrew: [looking up at me as I carry him the few feet to his bed] Because you're learning how to be a physical therapist. That's why we have to do my stretches. Because ... that's why you're going to be a physical therapist.
- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -
The scene is the bathroom, with Andrew laughing hysterically, lying on his back while I dry him off after a shower and get him into his pajamas.
Me: What is so funny?
Andrew: [laughs even harder]
Me: Ok, Andrew. You're really being silly tonight. Hang on, don't move. Let me grab your toothbrush.
Andrew: [still laughing, stops to listen to the Disney CD playing in his bedroom next door. Starts giggling again as I bend over him with his toothbrush]
Me: Ok, no choking allowed. Got it?
Andrew: [attempts to calm down, then laughs a few short bursts] That's what Mrs. P always used to say. No choking allowed.
Me: You ready? [inserting the toothbrush into his mouth] Well, she's right. Choking would be ugly. ...
Andrew: [words muffled by the toothbrush being maneuvered around his mouth] You...are...suh....a swee-hah.
Me: Excuse me? Where did you hear that one?
Andrew just smiles sweetly ...
- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -
Andrew: What are you doing this weekend?
Me: This weekend, I will be doing what I do every weekend: STUDYING. Sound like fun?
Andrew: Are you going to study how to be a physical therapist?
Me: Yes, I am!
Andrew: That's good.
Andrew: Let's do some stretches.
Me: Really? You want to do your stretches with me?
Andrew: Yes. I would like to do some stretches.
Me: Wow. I didn't even give that as an option. Let's do it! Would you like to put on some music? Stretches on the bed or on the floor?
Andrew: [pressing 'Play' on his CD player] On my bed.
Me: Great. [lifting his 60lbs out of his power chair]
Andrew: [looking up at me as I carry him the few feet to his bed] Because you're learning how to be a physical therapist. That's why we have to do my stretches. Because ... that's why you're going to be a physical therapist.
- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -
The scene is the bathroom, with Andrew laughing hysterically, lying on his back while I dry him off after a shower and get him into his pajamas.
Me: What is so funny?
Andrew: [laughs even harder]
Me: Ok, Andrew. You're really being silly tonight. Hang on, don't move. Let me grab your toothbrush.
Andrew: [still laughing, stops to listen to the Disney CD playing in his bedroom next door. Starts giggling again as I bend over him with his toothbrush]
Me: Ok, no choking allowed. Got it?
Andrew: [attempts to calm down, then laughs a few short bursts] That's what Mrs. P always used to say. No choking allowed.
Me: You ready? [inserting the toothbrush into his mouth] Well, she's right. Choking would be ugly. ...
Andrew: [words muffled by the toothbrush being maneuvered around his mouth] You...are...suh....a swee-hah.
Me: Excuse me? Where did you hear that one?
Andrew just smiles sweetly ...
- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -
Andrew: What are you doing this weekend?
Me: This weekend, I will be doing what I do every weekend: STUDYING. Sound like fun?
Andrew: Are you going to study how to be a physical therapist?
Me: Yes, I am!
Andrew: That's good.
Identification
Found this in a "break" between projects this evening:
You know you're a grad student when...
you can identify universities by their internet domains.
you are constantly looking for a thesis in novels.
you have difficulty reading anything that doesn't have footnotes.
the concept of free time scares you.
you consider caffeine to be a major food group.
you've ever brought books with you on vacation and actually studied.
Saturday nights spent studying no longer seem weird.
you've ever travelled across two state lines specifically to go to a library.
you appreciate the fact that you get to choose which twenty hours out of the day you have to work.
you can read course books and cook at the same time.
you schedule events for academic vacations so your friends can come.
you hope it snows during spring break so you can get more studying in.
you find taking notes in a park relaxing.
you find yourself citing sources in conversation.
you've ever sent a personal letter with footnotes.
you can analyze the significance of appliances you cannot operate.
your office is better decorated than your apartment.
you are startled to meet people who neither need nor want to read.
you have ever brought a scholarly article to a bar.
you rate coffee shops by the availability of outlets for your laptop.
everything reminds you of something in your discipline.
you have ever discussed academic matters at a sporting event.
you have ever spent more than $50 on photocopying while researching a single paper.
there is a study booth in the library that you consider "yours."
you can tell the time of day by looking at the traffic flow at the library.
you look forward to summers because you're more productive without the distraction of classes.
you regard ibuprofen as a vitamin.
you consider all papers to be works in progress.
professors don't really care when you turn in work anymore.
you find the bibliographies of books more interesting than the actual text.
you have given up trying to keep your books organized and are now just trying to keep them all in the same general area.
you have accepted guilt as an inherent feature of relaxation.
you find yourself explaining to children that you are in "20th grade".
you start refering to stories like "Snow White et al."
you often wonder how long you can live on pasta without getting scurvy.
you look forward to taking some time off to do laundry.
you have more photocopy cards than credit cards.
you wonder if APA style allows you to cite talking to yourself as "personal communication".
plus one of my own ...
you find yourself looking for a space in your planner to scribble in "get the oil changed"
You know you're a grad student when...
you can identify universities by their internet domains.
you are constantly looking for a thesis in novels.
you have difficulty reading anything that doesn't have footnotes.
the concept of free time scares you.
you consider caffeine to be a major food group.
you've ever brought books with you on vacation and actually studied.
Saturday nights spent studying no longer seem weird.
you've ever travelled across two state lines specifically to go to a library.
you appreciate the fact that you get to choose which twenty hours out of the day you have to work.
you can read course books and cook at the same time.
you schedule events for academic vacations so your friends can come.
you hope it snows during spring break so you can get more studying in.
you find taking notes in a park relaxing.
you find yourself citing sources in conversation.
you've ever sent a personal letter with footnotes.
you can analyze the significance of appliances you cannot operate.
your office is better decorated than your apartment.
you are startled to meet people who neither need nor want to read.
you have ever brought a scholarly article to a bar.
you rate coffee shops by the availability of outlets for your laptop.
everything reminds you of something in your discipline.
you have ever discussed academic matters at a sporting event.
you have ever spent more than $50 on photocopying while researching a single paper.
there is a study booth in the library that you consider "yours."
you can tell the time of day by looking at the traffic flow at the library.
you look forward to summers because you're more productive without the distraction of classes.
you regard ibuprofen as a vitamin.
you consider all papers to be works in progress.
professors don't really care when you turn in work anymore.
you find the bibliographies of books more interesting than the actual text.
you have given up trying to keep your books organized and are now just trying to keep them all in the same general area.
you have accepted guilt as an inherent feature of relaxation.
you find yourself explaining to children that you are in "20th grade".
you start refering to stories like "Snow White et al."
you often wonder how long you can live on pasta without getting scurvy.
you look forward to taking some time off to do laundry.
you have more photocopy cards than credit cards.
you wonder if APA style allows you to cite talking to yourself as "personal communication".
plus one of my own ...
you find yourself looking for a space in your planner to scribble in "get the oil changed"
Friday, November 18, 2005
Juice, anyone?
Andrew (9 year-old): Have you ever been to Lucky's?
Me: No, I haven't.
Ellen (5 year-old): It's a restaurant. He's talking about a restaurant.
Andrew: It's soooo great. They have juice-boxes.
Me: Really.
Ellen: Yeah, you put in money, and they play music.
... {smile} ...
Me: No, I haven't.
Ellen (5 year-old): It's a restaurant. He's talking about a restaurant.
Andrew: It's soooo great. They have juice-boxes.
Me: Really.
Ellen: Yeah, you put in money, and they play music.
... {smile} ...
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
rear-ended
My friend Janel is giving me a ride home.
We're stopped at a red light, chatting away. It's 10:15pm, and we've commenced studying for the evening before a big exam. There's a bit of mist in the air, and water on the pavement.
Silence on the road. No cross-traffic, even though the green light seems to be looking for something to pass underneath it. Finally, I see the light begin to change from green -- yellow -- red. We should get our green light here in a few seconds. ... I'll be home in bed soon ...
--BAMM!!--
Rear-ended. What the...?
"No way," Janel says.
I immediately get out of the car.
"I'm so sorry, I slid. Because of the wet. It's slippery. I slid."
I just kind of look at the woman. Slid? I ride my bike on this road and I know for a fact that we are standing on an incline. An uphill incline, that is. Because I know that it really stinks to ride up to a red light at this point in the journey.
But whatever. I let Janel handle things, ...it's her car, right?
I get home and range my neck through all possible motions, do a few chin tucks and rotational stretches, and pray that I can last until Christmas break when Dr. Kania can make sure I'm not mal-aligned. So far, minimal to no pain.
I tell my roommate this evening that if she needs to practice her Upper Quarter Screen technique, I'll be happy to act as "patient." Maybe she can see if anything's busted out of line. She gets all excited about it. Well, of course; I still get excited when people offer to have me look at them. In fact, this Saturday I will be getting my hair trimmed by Thaisa* in return for a Lower Quarter Screen--she wants me to check out her leg. (my hair is out of control...)
Unfortunately, I'm not good with the phone-consults. Someday, maybe.
*Name has been modified from its original version to fit your screen
We're stopped at a red light, chatting away. It's 10:15pm, and we've commenced studying for the evening before a big exam. There's a bit of mist in the air, and water on the pavement.
Silence on the road. No cross-traffic, even though the green light seems to be looking for something to pass underneath it. Finally, I see the light begin to change from green -- yellow -- red. We should get our green light here in a few seconds. ... I'll be home in bed soon ...
--BAMM!!--
Rear-ended. What the...?
"No way," Janel says.
I immediately get out of the car.
"I'm so sorry, I slid. Because of the wet. It's slippery. I slid."
I just kind of look at the woman. Slid? I ride my bike on this road and I know for a fact that we are standing on an incline. An uphill incline, that is. Because I know that it really stinks to ride up to a red light at this point in the journey.
But whatever. I let Janel handle things, ...it's her car, right?
I get home and range my neck through all possible motions, do a few chin tucks and rotational stretches, and pray that I can last until Christmas break when Dr. Kania can make sure I'm not mal-aligned. So far, minimal to no pain.
I tell my roommate this evening that if she needs to practice her Upper Quarter Screen technique, I'll be happy to act as "patient." Maybe she can see if anything's busted out of line. She gets all excited about it. Well, of course; I still get excited when people offer to have me look at them. In fact, this Saturday I will be getting my hair trimmed by Thaisa* in return for a Lower Quarter Screen--she wants me to check out her leg. (my hair is out of control...)
Unfortunately, I'm not good with the phone-consults. Someday, maybe.
*Name has been modified from its original version to fit your screen
Sunday, November 13, 2005
surfing ... random finds
hmmm ...
Recollection of a story told me by my clinical advisor: a colleague of hers who did "Doctors without Borders" and was stationed by himself somewhere in Africa.
...walked outside his hut on the first morning, and stared for a full minute at the line of people extending from his "doorstep" to the horizon, as far as he could see.
"They had nothing. Nothing like the equipment we have in our labs. But they made do. They figured it out. 'We're so stupid in this country,' he told me. They don't depend on what we depend on."
...one day, as he was working, looked up and gazed down the line--and saw the face of Christ, about a half a mile away. Jumped up and started running ... and kept running for a while, down the line.
Finally returned to his hut to continue the day's work.
Now a PT at a VA hospital down in Florida, he does a lot of great work, including prosthetic rehab; she wants me to consider doing a clinical rotation under him....
Recollection of a story told me by my clinical advisor: a colleague of hers who did "Doctors without Borders" and was stationed by himself somewhere in Africa.
...walked outside his hut on the first morning, and stared for a full minute at the line of people extending from his "doorstep" to the horizon, as far as he could see.
"They had nothing. Nothing like the equipment we have in our labs. But they made do. They figured it out. 'We're so stupid in this country,' he told me. They don't depend on what we depend on."
...one day, as he was working, looked up and gazed down the line--and saw the face of Christ, about a half a mile away. Jumped up and started running ... and kept running for a while, down the line.
Finally returned to his hut to continue the day's work.
Now a PT at a VA hospital down in Florida, he does a lot of great work, including prosthetic rehab; she wants me to consider doing a clinical rotation under him....
And counting...
Only two more major written exams,
one more clinical exam,
one more major classroom presentation,
one more independent online presentation,
one more group online presentation,
one more research proposal due-date,
...and only four weeks left to get in shape for skiing in Colorado! Aaaack!!
one more clinical exam,
one more major classroom presentation,
one more independent online presentation,
one more group online presentation,
one more research proposal due-date,
...and only four weeks left to get in shape for skiing in Colorado! Aaaack!!
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Not a big deal, ...
Tony and I have had several conversations about "those over-analytical TAC girls." Kinda like this.
I think maybe it just applies to girls in general.
Or maybe it's just me.
Gotta go write an email.
Thanks, Mom.
I think maybe it just applies to girls in general.
Or maybe it's just me.
Gotta go write an email.
Thanks, Mom.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Golden
It's that time of the year again. I'm getting a cold. But I'm not the only one. Ruth is getting one, as well. It's part of what's keeping her from going with me to Boston this weekend. But nothing will keep me from Boston-in-the-Fall this year! Even Greg is getting a cold. (Greg is the one I'm going to see in Boston...)
On the phone last night with Mom...
Mom: Are you taking Goldenseal?
Me: Um, no. I only have Echinacea-Goldenseal.
(last year we established the fact that this was a bad thing for an already-present cold)
Mom: I gave you a whole bottle of Goldenseal when you left last time!
Me: Oh, it must be in my purse in the car, ...
Mom: Well, get it.
Me: I'm in my pajamas!
(note that it is 7:30pm--which means 5:30pm in Colorado, making my attire seem even more incongruent)
Mom: Well, put your jacket on and some sneakers on and go out to the car. You have to take care of the cold now, while it's still early. Don't wait.
Me: I'm drinking orange juice ... (as I pull on my poncho and slide into my clogs)
Mom: Just go out there and get it!
Me: ok, ok. ...
...Oops, not here. Wrong purse. Must be in my other purse, back in the house. ...
Mom: Oh, geez.
Me: It's fine. I'll get it now.
...Oh. No, this is another bottle of Echinacea-Goldenseal.
Mom: But I know I gave it to you!
Me: Maybe you gave me Echinacea-Goldenseal.
Mom: No, it was Goldenseal. ...That's ok, I'll just send you another bottle.
Me: No! Don't do that! I'll just buy a bottle here.
Mom: But it's expensive.
Me: That's fine. I can buy it.
Mom: How about I just send it to you?
Me: Mom, by the time you send it, I'll be either all better, or dead. Let me just go to the store and get some.
Mom: Ok, but buy a little bottle, and then I'll send you out a big bottle.
Me: GoodNESS.
Mom: Ok, please, just let me do this. Ok, please?
Me: Ok, that's fine. But I can just buy it here, you know.
Mom: Go ahead; buy a little bottle. That will get you through until the big bottle I'm sending arrives. I'll send it in the morning. Ok?
Me: Ok. Thanks.
FAST FORWARD TO THIS MORNING'S FIRST CLASS ...
Marisa (classmate): Good morning! I brought you something.
...rummaging in backpack ... here.
(Proceeds to pull out a Goldenseal bottle, which sounds like it has about 5 capsules left.)
Me: For me?
Marisa: Yeah, I thought you might want to take it so you aren't miserable this weekend.
(Marisa is going with me to Boston)
Me: Wow, thanks! (I then relate my conversation from the previous evening)
Marisa: Great! Well, here's your little bottle.
FAST FORWARD TO THIS EVENING AT HOPE'S HOUSE ...
Me: Hi! Thanks so much for meeting this late to work on the project. I just got done with work.
Hope: No problem! Can I get you anything? Tea? Food?
Me: No, thanks. Maybe just some water.
Hope: Ok. ...Oh, and here's something else for you. (she hands me a sandwich baggy full of greenish-brown capsules.) It's Goldenseal, in case you don't have any. I just bought a huge bottle, so I thought I'd share the wealth.
Me: Wow ...thanks a lot, Hope. ...
...!!
I think I'm set as far as Goldenseal goes.
On the phone last night with Mom...
Mom: Are you taking Goldenseal?
Me: Um, no. I only have Echinacea-Goldenseal.
(last year we established the fact that this was a bad thing for an already-present cold)
Mom: I gave you a whole bottle of Goldenseal when you left last time!
Me: Oh, it must be in my purse in the car, ...
Mom: Well, get it.
Me: I'm in my pajamas!
(note that it is 7:30pm--which means 5:30pm in Colorado, making my attire seem even more incongruent)
Mom: Well, put your jacket on and some sneakers on and go out to the car. You have to take care of the cold now, while it's still early. Don't wait.
Me: I'm drinking orange juice ... (as I pull on my poncho and slide into my clogs)
Mom: Just go out there and get it!
Me: ok, ok. ...
...Oops, not here. Wrong purse. Must be in my other purse, back in the house. ...
Mom: Oh, geez.
Me: It's fine. I'll get it now.
...Oh. No, this is another bottle of Echinacea-Goldenseal.
Mom: But I know I gave it to you!
Me: Maybe you gave me Echinacea-Goldenseal.
Mom: No, it was Goldenseal. ...That's ok, I'll just send you another bottle.
Me: No! Don't do that! I'll just buy a bottle here.
Mom: But it's expensive.
Me: That's fine. I can buy it.
Mom: How about I just send it to you?
Me: Mom, by the time you send it, I'll be either all better, or dead. Let me just go to the store and get some.
Mom: Ok, but buy a little bottle, and then I'll send you out a big bottle.
Me: GoodNESS.
Mom: Ok, please, just let me do this. Ok, please?
Me: Ok, that's fine. But I can just buy it here, you know.
Mom: Go ahead; buy a little bottle. That will get you through until the big bottle I'm sending arrives. I'll send it in the morning. Ok?
Me: Ok. Thanks.
FAST FORWARD TO THIS MORNING'S FIRST CLASS ...
Marisa (classmate): Good morning! I brought you something.
...rummaging in backpack ... here.
(Proceeds to pull out a Goldenseal bottle, which sounds like it has about 5 capsules left.)
Me: For me?
Marisa: Yeah, I thought you might want to take it so you aren't miserable this weekend.
(Marisa is going with me to Boston)
Me: Wow, thanks! (I then relate my conversation from the previous evening)
Marisa: Great! Well, here's your little bottle.
FAST FORWARD TO THIS EVENING AT HOPE'S HOUSE ...
Me: Hi! Thanks so much for meeting this late to work on the project. I just got done with work.
Hope: No problem! Can I get you anything? Tea? Food?
Me: No, thanks. Maybe just some water.
Hope: Ok. ...Oh, and here's something else for you. (she hands me a sandwich baggy full of greenish-brown capsules.) It's Goldenseal, in case you don't have any. I just bought a huge bottle, so I thought I'd share the wealth.
Me: Wow ...thanks a lot, Hope. ...
...!!
I think I'm set as far as Goldenseal goes.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Tag!
1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.
"The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm."
This is an excerpt from the writings of St. Therese of Liseaux, which I actually ran across again last weekend. ...and again now. Ok, God, thanks for the reminder!!
Tag! You're all "it":
Moose
Nevermore
Chim
Bryce
Kitty
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence (or closest to it).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same thing.
"The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm."
This is an excerpt from the writings of St. Therese of Liseaux, which I actually ran across again last weekend. ...and again now. Ok, God, thanks for the reminder!!
Tag! You're all "it":
Moose
Nevermore
Chim
Bryce
Kitty
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