And Lord, am I tired! This working business is just knocking me out. I really, really want to go to bed--and it's 7:50 p.m., for pity's sake. This is actually progress. Last night, I wanted to go to be at 7:00 p.m., but I hadn't walked the Bombshell yet (and you know that her constitutionals are required by law).
It was quite okay in many ways to be back at work, though. Hugs all around from colleagues, and my dear team left a big purple balloon bouquet in my cubicle, as well as a gift bag featuring a book and a big purple (yes, there's a theme at work here) robe. Sweetness! Oh, and chocolate turtles made with macadamia nuts--sheer heaven!
Poor Shwea didn't care about the gift bag, poor pup. She's so not happy that I'm back at work. She follows me even more closely around the house than before, and apparently sulks but good when I'm gone (according to Aunt Mary, formerly known as the Singing Juicer, who tended our gal on Monday). I had the nerve to shut the bathroom door the other day, and you would have thought a band of thieves had broken into the house, she carried on so. She was just miffed that I had shut her off from her person. "Da noive!" as we don't say in Massachusetts.
As for life beyond work, I have been invited out to see and do things, but have turned a lot of these dear invites down. I just don't have the gumption, you know? That said, I did say "Yes, please!" to my friend Holly bringing pizza over for lunch today. That made for a great break in the "action," so to speak. Also, this morning I found a card and DVD in the front porch basket; seems my friend Sarah decided I needed to watch "The Benny Goodman" story for inspiration, bless her heart. Maybe I'll soon be inspired to take my dear clarinet out of the case, eh? (Though I think that won't happen until the weekend, if I'm going to be reality-based here.)
Otherwise, last night I tried to watch more of the Ken Burns documentary on the national parks, but had to stop when it began to focus on the slaughter of Native Americans and animals in the park and beyond. I usually have the constitution for such information, but not these days. I wanted to ooh and ahhh over pretty pictures of Mother Nature, not get my knickers in a knot over man's inhumanity to man and nature. I am definitely in a "Beyond Bambi" stage, people, and just have to accept it.
Hey, it's almost time for bed. Gotta go! Love from BB and the Bombshell
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Just saw Sita and Brava off; they came by to clear out the medical supply depot in the garage, bless them, so I now have an indoor place to park my Vibe. Progress--thanks, gals!
Had a delightful dinner with Sita, Anne and Brava last night. Good food and conversation, capped off with cake and an outdoor fire. Perfection! For all my focus on rest and renewal, I did learn last night that I am not yet 100%, for at one point an ember flew out of the fire pit and landed on my pants. I just watched it sit there, noted that my leg was getting warm, but did nothing about it. Thankfully, Anne came to my rescue, and brushed it off before it was able to do any damage.
That was interesting, eh? My self-preservation instincts are still in the shop, apparently. Sheesh!
Yesterday, I took Shwea to the vet for her "senior" checkup. All who saw her reported she was in very good shape for a 12-year-old her size, which was good to hear. But, when I described some symptoms to the vet and she checked her from stem to stern, she thought that the Bombshell would benefit from some pain medicine, so I dutifully took some home. Started it yesterday, and am watching her ever so carefully for side effects. Also need to take her in three weeks from now, for lab work (literally and figuratively; sorry, couldn't resist) to ensure her kidneys are okay with the new medicine. While I don't like giving her drugs, I certainly don't like the idea of her being in pain. It helped when the vet said that dogs Shwea's size often start taking such meds when they're 8, so I feel a little better about it all.
Ah, this aging business!
Speaking of aging, yesterday I learned that Linda's car was in trouble deep. It needed tons of work, so instead of investing in all that work so I could sell the car to someone, I decided to sell it to Linda's mechanic. He's an honest guy who we've known for years, so I feel good about this solution to the "What to do with Linda's car?" issue. Must admit it was hard to take all of Linda's stuff out of the car; have watched Linda drive off and return home in that car for years, so it's "Linda" to me in a way. Plus, that car featured in a joke of mine, so that joke will have to be retired, too. Odd what comes to mind, isn't it?
Well, now I should close, as I have to get downtown to pick up some music supplies before I meet with the CPA this afternoon--my clarinet came home yesterday, and it's just beautiful. Can't wait to play it, but I certainly don't want to play it with over 30-year-old reeds. Gross!
But before I go, thought I should let you know that I have been helped ever so much by a book of daily meditations I've been reading since Linda passed. It's called "Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief," by Martha Whitmore Hickman. The quotations and readings for each day speak to me in ways that few things do now. One quote, from Goethe, sums up what's been happening this week better than I ever could: "It is the nature of grace always to fill spaces that have been empty."
Had a delightful dinner with Sita, Anne and Brava last night. Good food and conversation, capped off with cake and an outdoor fire. Perfection! For all my focus on rest and renewal, I did learn last night that I am not yet 100%, for at one point an ember flew out of the fire pit and landed on my pants. I just watched it sit there, noted that my leg was getting warm, but did nothing about it. Thankfully, Anne came to my rescue, and brushed it off before it was able to do any damage.
That was interesting, eh? My self-preservation instincts are still in the shop, apparently. Sheesh!
Yesterday, I took Shwea to the vet for her "senior" checkup. All who saw her reported she was in very good shape for a 12-year-old her size, which was good to hear. But, when I described some symptoms to the vet and she checked her from stem to stern, she thought that the Bombshell would benefit from some pain medicine, so I dutifully took some home. Started it yesterday, and am watching her ever so carefully for side effects. Also need to take her in three weeks from now, for lab work (literally and figuratively; sorry, couldn't resist) to ensure her kidneys are okay with the new medicine. While I don't like giving her drugs, I certainly don't like the idea of her being in pain. It helped when the vet said that dogs Shwea's size often start taking such meds when they're 8, so I feel a little better about it all.
Ah, this aging business!
Speaking of aging, yesterday I learned that Linda's car was in trouble deep. It needed tons of work, so instead of investing in all that work so I could sell the car to someone, I decided to sell it to Linda's mechanic. He's an honest guy who we've known for years, so I feel good about this solution to the "What to do with Linda's car?" issue. Must admit it was hard to take all of Linda's stuff out of the car; have watched Linda drive off and return home in that car for years, so it's "Linda" to me in a way. Plus, that car featured in a joke of mine, so that joke will have to be retired, too. Odd what comes to mind, isn't it?
Well, now I should close, as I have to get downtown to pick up some music supplies before I meet with the CPA this afternoon--my clarinet came home yesterday, and it's just beautiful. Can't wait to play it, but I certainly don't want to play it with over 30-year-old reeds. Gross!
But before I go, thought I should let you know that I have been helped ever so much by a book of daily meditations I've been reading since Linda passed. It's called "Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief," by Martha Whitmore Hickman. The quotations and readings for each day speak to me in ways that few things do now. One quote, from Goethe, sums up what's been happening this week better than I ever could: "It is the nature of grace always to fill spaces that have been empty."
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
The whirlwind continues
Yesterday was a busy one--started the day with two big condolence hugs from my neighbor and optometrist, who was walking by with her gal when I was getting the Vibe Shwea-ready. Had an appointment with a plumber in the Berkshires, but I didn't care--I'll take sweetness from another human being over timeliness any day of the week. Anyway, the plumber is almost always late.
Drove out to the cottage with the Bombshell to let the nice and just late enough (bless him) plumber in to shut it down for the season. This is about a month earlier than usual, but I would rather address this now while I have the time and before we have our first big frost and I get my pipe-freeze anxiety on in earnest. Besides, I can always go out there after the water's shut off, as long as I don't find myself with an overwhelming desire for a hot shower. (Shwea doesn't care as long as the fridge is working.)
Shwea had a good snooze on the way out, but couldn't get comfy because I kept walking around the wee house, finding medical-related things that needed to be added to the medical supply depot in the garage. Drove home with a bit more inventory and a nervous dog (she was afraid the I.V. pole was going to bonk her on the noggin', which it didn't). Stopped at Outlook Farms on the way in for some good dog biscuits for my pup (nothing like a good distraction, say I) and ended up buying a bag of cider donuts for myself (ditto).
Made lunch for Shwea then myself, then headed out to meet the Phantom (Karen) for a ride in her two-person canoe. We practically had the lake at the DAR to ourselves, with some chatty ducks and a golden retriever who kept darting in and out of the woods our primary company. Later some fishermen appeared in a small row boat, but that was about it. We talked as we paddled, and it was a sweet way to spend some time in this week largely devoted to rest and renewal (or a reasonable facsimile).
Returned home to meet with Sita, who had another likely candidate for the hydraulic loo (the first home wasn't a fit, alas) and who also offered a hug, cherry tomatoes from their garden and other delightful food bits--even baklava from St. Louis! Her dog Brava then gave me a quick sloppy stealth kiss (her specialty) and off they went.
Dinner was back at Sky and Karen's house, and it was so good to see them without needing to bother Sky for an explanation of a medical issue. We just talked and ate and listened to their cats howl. Linda was a major topic of conversation, and that was just fine with me. She, like the "angles," will be hovering 'round for a long, long time, and that's a tremendous comfort.
Lest I forget, they also sent me home with a lovely tin of Sky's chocolate chip cookies. Comfort, indeed.
Still, there's a lot of "stuff" I need to deal with. Today I finally found the phone number for Linda's private disability insurer, and got them working on the paperwork for closing that account down. Also spoke to Linda's mechanic, who is giving her car a once-over so I can sell it in good conscience. Thing is, he reported he's compiling a long list of things for us to discuss tomorrow, so I'm beginning to worry that I might be better off donating it to that car charity they're always promoting on Car Talk. Yikes!
But I also got the paperwork together for Linda's private life insurance and mailed that off, and the Post Office graciously accepted a mailer with a big box of sharps in it, too. (Still have more to get rid of, but that was a good start.) And I'm meeting with a CPA on Friday to help me address my mounting math/tax anxiety.
So, I'm getting things done; there's more to do, but nothing that's going to turn me into a very large, cookie-filled pumpkin.
Now I'm getting ready to take the Bombshell for her nightly stroll, and am surprised at how dark it is already. When fall falls, it doesn't mess around, eh?
Drove out to the cottage with the Bombshell to let the nice and just late enough (bless him) plumber in to shut it down for the season. This is about a month earlier than usual, but I would rather address this now while I have the time and before we have our first big frost and I get my pipe-freeze anxiety on in earnest. Besides, I can always go out there after the water's shut off, as long as I don't find myself with an overwhelming desire for a hot shower. (Shwea doesn't care as long as the fridge is working.)
Shwea had a good snooze on the way out, but couldn't get comfy because I kept walking around the wee house, finding medical-related things that needed to be added to the medical supply depot in the garage. Drove home with a bit more inventory and a nervous dog (she was afraid the I.V. pole was going to bonk her on the noggin', which it didn't). Stopped at Outlook Farms on the way in for some good dog biscuits for my pup (nothing like a good distraction, say I) and ended up buying a bag of cider donuts for myself (ditto).
Made lunch for Shwea then myself, then headed out to meet the Phantom (Karen) for a ride in her two-person canoe. We practically had the lake at the DAR to ourselves, with some chatty ducks and a golden retriever who kept darting in and out of the woods our primary company. Later some fishermen appeared in a small row boat, but that was about it. We talked as we paddled, and it was a sweet way to spend some time in this week largely devoted to rest and renewal (or a reasonable facsimile).
Returned home to meet with Sita, who had another likely candidate for the hydraulic loo (the first home wasn't a fit, alas) and who also offered a hug, cherry tomatoes from their garden and other delightful food bits--even baklava from St. Louis! Her dog Brava then gave me a quick sloppy stealth kiss (her specialty) and off they went.
Dinner was back at Sky and Karen's house, and it was so good to see them without needing to bother Sky for an explanation of a medical issue. We just talked and ate and listened to their cats howl. Linda was a major topic of conversation, and that was just fine with me. She, like the "angles," will be hovering 'round for a long, long time, and that's a tremendous comfort.
Lest I forget, they also sent me home with a lovely tin of Sky's chocolate chip cookies. Comfort, indeed.
Still, there's a lot of "stuff" I need to deal with. Today I finally found the phone number for Linda's private disability insurer, and got them working on the paperwork for closing that account down. Also spoke to Linda's mechanic, who is giving her car a once-over so I can sell it in good conscience. Thing is, he reported he's compiling a long list of things for us to discuss tomorrow, so I'm beginning to worry that I might be better off donating it to that car charity they're always promoting on Car Talk. Yikes!
But I also got the paperwork together for Linda's private life insurance and mailed that off, and the Post Office graciously accepted a mailer with a big box of sharps in it, too. (Still have more to get rid of, but that was a good start.) And I'm meeting with a CPA on Friday to help me address my mounting math/tax anxiety.
So, I'm getting things done; there's more to do, but nothing that's going to turn me into a very large, cookie-filled pumpkin.
Now I'm getting ready to take the Bombshell for her nightly stroll, and am surprised at how dark it is already. When fall falls, it doesn't mess around, eh?
Monday, September 21, 2009
One week till work!
Enjoyed Jennifer's show at PACE on Saturday night, but how could I not? Each comic had a unique spin on existence, and but for a little Crocs-bashing, I enjoyed them all tremendously.
Seriously, I don't understand the fuss about Crocs. Flip-flops are far less protective and supportive, but few people get their knickers publicly in a knot over them. True, I've come to be a Crocs fan late in their run (fashion trends and Ann Podolske rarely coincide--actually, they never coincide), but found them perfect for all of those times during my caregiver days that I had to throw on shoes fast, not to mention tidy up after things that one wouldn't want to get on one's "regular" shoes. Now that I'm mostly keeping company with a big, clumsy dog, I find they continue to make sense--slobber and stomp away, Shwea, I'm wearing protective shoes I can wash!
Oh dear. I'm spending my time defending my choices in footwear. This can't be good.....
Anyway, back to actual events. Yesterday, I went to church--late, as has unfortunately become my custom--and enjoyed the company of my church peeps immensely. Hugs and sweetness all around--what's not to love? Then headed home to tend the Bombshell, eat lunch and nap, which has also become a custom (and one I'll have to wean out of this week, as work beckons next Monday).
Last night, I went to the local multiplex and finally saw "Julie & Julia" (or is it the other way around?), which was a light bit of fun. Perhaps not as fun as I expected, but considering my innate sadness these days and how much I've already heard about the movie, it makes sense that I wasn't exactly transported. That said, Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci were a joy to watch, just for being their fabulous selves. Another benefit of this excursion to the movies was seeing a trailer for yet another Meryl Streep film, "It's Complicated." Looks like a winner to me, but then with the Goddess Meryl at the center, how could it not? Perhaps I will go to this movie with friends--but for now, I go to such events worrying that I could start to cry and not stop, and don't want to put my friends through this, especially at a movie that's ostensibly a comedy.
It hasn't happened yet, but I'm not taking any chances.
Today was a late-starting day, but I'm happy to not have to be anywhere or do anything but tend Shwea and rest while it lasts. Well, and write a few more thank-yous. And do some more laundry, which is a never-ending task.
With all this glamour and excitement at hand, I think I will be ready to get back to work when I actually have to next Monday. Seriously, I miss my work friends, and I look forward to being preoccupied with things that don't matter, really. I appreciate the perspective the last 17 months has brought to bear on my world-view, don't get me wrong, but I am looking forward to thinking about things that bear little resemblance to what preoccupies me now.
Besides, I have to pay for my belated 50th birthday present to myself somehow. Yes, I followed Linda's footsteps in buying a car to denote my half century mark, though certainly not as cool a car as she purchased (a Mazda Miata). I toyed with the idea of a Mini Cooper S, but thanks to Linda's urging, I test drove and bought a Ford Fusion Hybrid. It's a hoot (for me) to drive, which may be explained by my current wheels: A Pontiac Vibe. And while my Fusion is a hybrid, it doesn't look like a Pious--I mean Prius--which I never quite liked the looks of, truly. Lastly, it's luxurious, at least compared to a Vibe, as it has leather seats, a navigation system, and more.
Well, I've gone from nattering on about shoes to a car, so I think I should stop for the sake of just about everyone. Besides, it's past time to feed Shwea, who has been ever-so-patiently waiting for me to finish this post. All good, A
Seriously, I don't understand the fuss about Crocs. Flip-flops are far less protective and supportive, but few people get their knickers publicly in a knot over them. True, I've come to be a Crocs fan late in their run (fashion trends and Ann Podolske rarely coincide--actually, they never coincide), but found them perfect for all of those times during my caregiver days that I had to throw on shoes fast, not to mention tidy up after things that one wouldn't want to get on one's "regular" shoes. Now that I'm mostly keeping company with a big, clumsy dog, I find they continue to make sense--slobber and stomp away, Shwea, I'm wearing protective shoes I can wash!
Oh dear. I'm spending my time defending my choices in footwear. This can't be good.....
Anyway, back to actual events. Yesterday, I went to church--late, as has unfortunately become my custom--and enjoyed the company of my church peeps immensely. Hugs and sweetness all around--what's not to love? Then headed home to tend the Bombshell, eat lunch and nap, which has also become a custom (and one I'll have to wean out of this week, as work beckons next Monday).
Last night, I went to the local multiplex and finally saw "Julie & Julia" (or is it the other way around?), which was a light bit of fun. Perhaps not as fun as I expected, but considering my innate sadness these days and how much I've already heard about the movie, it makes sense that I wasn't exactly transported. That said, Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci were a joy to watch, just for being their fabulous selves. Another benefit of this excursion to the movies was seeing a trailer for yet another Meryl Streep film, "It's Complicated." Looks like a winner to me, but then with the Goddess Meryl at the center, how could it not? Perhaps I will go to this movie with friends--but for now, I go to such events worrying that I could start to cry and not stop, and don't want to put my friends through this, especially at a movie that's ostensibly a comedy.
It hasn't happened yet, but I'm not taking any chances.
Today was a late-starting day, but I'm happy to not have to be anywhere or do anything but tend Shwea and rest while it lasts. Well, and write a few more thank-yous. And do some more laundry, which is a never-ending task.
With all this glamour and excitement at hand, I think I will be ready to get back to work when I actually have to next Monday. Seriously, I miss my work friends, and I look forward to being preoccupied with things that don't matter, really. I appreciate the perspective the last 17 months has brought to bear on my world-view, don't get me wrong, but I am looking forward to thinking about things that bear little resemblance to what preoccupies me now.
Besides, I have to pay for my belated 50th birthday present to myself somehow. Yes, I followed Linda's footsteps in buying a car to denote my half century mark, though certainly not as cool a car as she purchased (a Mazda Miata). I toyed with the idea of a Mini Cooper S, but thanks to Linda's urging, I test drove and bought a Ford Fusion Hybrid. It's a hoot (for me) to drive, which may be explained by my current wheels: A Pontiac Vibe. And while my Fusion is a hybrid, it doesn't look like a Pious--I mean Prius--which I never quite liked the looks of, truly. Lastly, it's luxurious, at least compared to a Vibe, as it has leather seats, a navigation system, and more.
Well, I've gone from nattering on about shoes to a car, so I think I should stop for the sake of just about everyone. Besides, it's past time to feed Shwea, who has been ever-so-patiently waiting for me to finish this post. All good, A
Saturday, September 19, 2009
What's up, Padlocked?*
Stayed up late last night to watch "Quantum of Solace" (I think that was the title), one of the latest James Bond films. I am powerless over films featuring Judi Dench, even in a small role, and I think Daniel Craig has that brooding business down pat. It was a satisfying mix of mayhem and macho, and I was glad for the respite from reality, or whatever is transpiring around here.
Things aren't quite as bleak as that last sentence suggests, really. Am getting ever so more accomplished as a sleeper (who knew that could ever be a challenge for yours truly?). Napping during the day and sleeping for great chunks of time with very brief interruptions during the night has become commonplace; so much better than the "High Alert" tossing and turning that characterized my first week or so after Linda's passing. That nagging feeling that I'm shirking my caregiver duties is almost gone, too, though of course I still need to keep on top of Shwea's very important feeding and walking schedule.
Am grateful, too, that I am taking care of the "must do" business that is before me. I had a very productive two-hour meeting with a member of my attorney's staff on Thursday to get started on wrapping up Linda's estate and finances; she was able to get the paperwork rolling for all of Linda's insurance and investment holdings in that relatively short span of time (it likely would have taken me days to do the same). She will also help me complete said paperwork, and recommended an accountant to help me figure out how best to proceed with the proceeds. Am pretty sure Linda would be glad I'm getting professional help with all of this; she knew all too well how math and I get along (which is about as well as she got along with the English language).
Also am working on getting the medical supply depot in the garage thinned out--already found a home for the hydraulic loo, I'm very happy to report. (Yes, I'm happy about finding a good home for a commode, people.) A member of my caregivers' group thought it might be just the thing for his missus, and he came by to pick it up yesterday. Here's hoping! As for the rest of my collection, a dear friend has offered to post it on Freecycle, once I get the inventory compiled. Also plan to clean out the fridge in the garage this weekend, so I can get started on finding that a new home as well. (Now that I'm not in the juicing "business" anymore, a second fridge doesn't make any sense.) I am also contemplating putting the mother of all juicers in our kitchen on Craigslist sometime soon, for that sucker takes up valuable real estate on our very small kitchen counter. Plus, it weighs on me a little to contemplate all the time and energy I (and our friends who learned to juice for Linda's sake) devoted to that contraption.
Otherwise, I am not doing anything with all of Linda's clothes and other effects in the house for now, except washing what has been hanging on hooks and laying about for these many months. When it seems like a good time to move on all of these things I will, but for now, it seems fine to let them be.
In the midst of all of this resting and wrapping up, I have been reading the wonderful cards and letters that have been landing in the mailbox each day. The hardest part of this duty has been not being able to show Linda the sweet and hilarious things that her friends and coworkers have written about her; still, I have to believe that she knows, somehow.
I've also begun getting out a bit; Tuesday night I went to my usual 12-step meeting, and last night I had dinner at a friend's house, that featured good conversation and two marvelous pooches. Tonight, I'm heading to my friend Jennifer's comedy show, Girls! Girls! Girls! (8 p.m. at PACE, if you're interested), and looking forward to being a member of the audience, soaking in the hilarity that is certain to ensue.
Well, I need to tackle my chores for the day, including feeding the Bombshell, so close I should. Hope you're all enjoying your weekend! With love, Ann and the Blond Foodhound
* If you spellcheck Podolske, this is what is suggested.
Things aren't quite as bleak as that last sentence suggests, really. Am getting ever so more accomplished as a sleeper (who knew that could ever be a challenge for yours truly?). Napping during the day and sleeping for great chunks of time with very brief interruptions during the night has become commonplace; so much better than the "High Alert" tossing and turning that characterized my first week or so after Linda's passing. That nagging feeling that I'm shirking my caregiver duties is almost gone, too, though of course I still need to keep on top of Shwea's very important feeding and walking schedule.
Am grateful, too, that I am taking care of the "must do" business that is before me. I had a very productive two-hour meeting with a member of my attorney's staff on Thursday to get started on wrapping up Linda's estate and finances; she was able to get the paperwork rolling for all of Linda's insurance and investment holdings in that relatively short span of time (it likely would have taken me days to do the same). She will also help me complete said paperwork, and recommended an accountant to help me figure out how best to proceed with the proceeds. Am pretty sure Linda would be glad I'm getting professional help with all of this; she knew all too well how math and I get along (which is about as well as she got along with the English language).
Also am working on getting the medical supply depot in the garage thinned out--already found a home for the hydraulic loo, I'm very happy to report. (Yes, I'm happy about finding a good home for a commode, people.) A member of my caregivers' group thought it might be just the thing for his missus, and he came by to pick it up yesterday. Here's hoping! As for the rest of my collection, a dear friend has offered to post it on Freecycle, once I get the inventory compiled. Also plan to clean out the fridge in the garage this weekend, so I can get started on finding that a new home as well. (Now that I'm not in the juicing "business" anymore, a second fridge doesn't make any sense.) I am also contemplating putting the mother of all juicers in our kitchen on Craigslist sometime soon, for that sucker takes up valuable real estate on our very small kitchen counter. Plus, it weighs on me a little to contemplate all the time and energy I (and our friends who learned to juice for Linda's sake) devoted to that contraption.
Otherwise, I am not doing anything with all of Linda's clothes and other effects in the house for now, except washing what has been hanging on hooks and laying about for these many months. When it seems like a good time to move on all of these things I will, but for now, it seems fine to let them be.
In the midst of all of this resting and wrapping up, I have been reading the wonderful cards and letters that have been landing in the mailbox each day. The hardest part of this duty has been not being able to show Linda the sweet and hilarious things that her friends and coworkers have written about her; still, I have to believe that she knows, somehow.
I've also begun getting out a bit; Tuesday night I went to my usual 12-step meeting, and last night I had dinner at a friend's house, that featured good conversation and two marvelous pooches. Tonight, I'm heading to my friend Jennifer's comedy show, Girls! Girls! Girls! (8 p.m. at PACE, if you're interested), and looking forward to being a member of the audience, soaking in the hilarity that is certain to ensue.
Well, I need to tackle my chores for the day, including feeding the Bombshell, so close I should. Hope you're all enjoying your weekend! With love, Ann and the Blond Foodhound
* If you spellcheck Podolske, this is what is suggested.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Making progress...
I am feeling pretty good about the fact that I (1) had a nap yesterday and (2) was still able to sleep (almost) through the night. After over 10 days of waking up feeling mostly like something Shwea deposits in the backyard, I felt almost/nearly/sort of rested this morning. (Yes, my expectations for myself are what one could call modest--world dominion can wait.)
Anyway, today I am preparing for tomorrow's meeting with someone at my attorney's office, to get the ball rolling on settling Linda's estate. She cautioned me that such things can take a year, which is fine with me--I have promised myself to not make any major decisions for at least 12 months, so we're all copacetic. Am also beginning to write out "Thank yous" for flowers and donations and what-all. This could take a while, for people have been very, very generous where my gal is concerned.
Did figure out when I think I'll be up for returning to work--Monday, Sept. 28. As long as the short-term disability (STD) application goes through. Though I'd probably take the time even if it weren't paid for, as Big Company is overwhelming on a good day, and I am not in the "good day" frame of mind quite yet.
Speaking of STD, I was taken aback by the diagnosis my dear doctor has given yours truly's predicament for the benefit of the insurance company: "Acute situational depression/grief." I guess "recent widow" just isn't descriptive enough, eh?
Yesterday, I decided to face facts and had the lawn service guys weed the entire yard. Contemplating the bumper weed crop in our yard made me tired, so I just said "Off with their heads!" Linda was the avid gardener in the family, which I attribute to her being a city girl for much of her life. Me, I grew up in an agricultural mecca, so perhaps I think it's all too much like the labor of my ancestors. Whatever, I am out of the farming business for the foreseeable, with one possible exception (see below), and am quite relieved about it.
Today, our friend and neighbor Dee is coming by to help me figure out what to do with the plants we were given in the past two weeks. Plant them? Keep them watered until they yell "Uncle!"? I know so little about such things, I thought I should call in an expert, and he is it. Well, I feel another nap coming on (you may too, pardon me), so close I should. All good, Ann
Anyway, today I am preparing for tomorrow's meeting with someone at my attorney's office, to get the ball rolling on settling Linda's estate. She cautioned me that such things can take a year, which is fine with me--I have promised myself to not make any major decisions for at least 12 months, so we're all copacetic. Am also beginning to write out "Thank yous" for flowers and donations and what-all. This could take a while, for people have been very, very generous where my gal is concerned.
Did figure out when I think I'll be up for returning to work--Monday, Sept. 28. As long as the short-term disability (STD) application goes through. Though I'd probably take the time even if it weren't paid for, as Big Company is overwhelming on a good day, and I am not in the "good day" frame of mind quite yet.
Speaking of STD, I was taken aback by the diagnosis my dear doctor has given yours truly's predicament for the benefit of the insurance company: "Acute situational depression/grief." I guess "recent widow" just isn't descriptive enough, eh?
Yesterday, I decided to face facts and had the lawn service guys weed the entire yard. Contemplating the bumper weed crop in our yard made me tired, so I just said "Off with their heads!" Linda was the avid gardener in the family, which I attribute to her being a city girl for much of her life. Me, I grew up in an agricultural mecca, so perhaps I think it's all too much like the labor of my ancestors. Whatever, I am out of the farming business for the foreseeable, with one possible exception (see below), and am quite relieved about it.
Today, our friend and neighbor Dee is coming by to help me figure out what to do with the plants we were given in the past two weeks. Plant them? Keep them watered until they yell "Uncle!"? I know so little about such things, I thought I should call in an expert, and he is it. Well, I feel another nap coming on (you may too, pardon me), so close I should. All good, Ann
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Closing up my caregiver shop
I've been away from this site for a while, largely because I was spending what spare time I had for Internet nonsense posting on CaringBridge. If you're not familiar with the site, consider yourself fortunate--it's a site dedicated to people challenged with serious illness. It's a one-stop shop for people who want to keep concerned friends and family updated on their (or a family member's) treatment's progress (or lack thereof). It was a goddess-send, for it allowed me to keep everybody in the proverbial loop re my gal Linda, without having to make countless phone calls or e-mails, retelling the same tale over and over again.
Well, as you may already know, Linda was gathered to God (my favorite way of putting this) on Friday, Sept. 4. She left in peace, which was a miracle, considering how long she resisted the reality of her situation. From her diagnosis in April of 2008 to about a week before her death, she was planning on getting well. But after a frightening fall, she finally accepted her prognosis, and then devoted her remaining time and energy to preparing for what's next. She succeeded brilliantly, from what I could see, and left this earth as ready as anyone could be, leaving love and forgiveness in her wake.
What a gift Linda was, contrary underwear and all.
So now, I'm working on recovering from my months as a caregiver and trying to wrap up Linda's affairs as best I can. I won't be back at work for a couple more weeks, and that's just fine by me (and them, too, most likely). My life is changing at a rapid rate, and I have no idea what my "new normal" will be, and probably won't for a good while.
But I will try to record what develops here, as best I am able. We shall see, eh?
Well, as you may already know, Linda was gathered to God (my favorite way of putting this) on Friday, Sept. 4. She left in peace, which was a miracle, considering how long she resisted the reality of her situation. From her diagnosis in April of 2008 to about a week before her death, she was planning on getting well. But after a frightening fall, she finally accepted her prognosis, and then devoted her remaining time and energy to preparing for what's next. She succeeded brilliantly, from what I could see, and left this earth as ready as anyone could be, leaving love and forgiveness in her wake.
What a gift Linda was, contrary underwear and all.
So now, I'm working on recovering from my months as a caregiver and trying to wrap up Linda's affairs as best I can. I won't be back at work for a couple more weeks, and that's just fine by me (and them, too, most likely). My life is changing at a rapid rate, and I have no idea what my "new normal" will be, and probably won't for a good while.
But I will try to record what develops here, as best I am able. We shall see, eh?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Cosmic Setup #2,457
A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to NPR and heard a beautiful clarinet solo that reminded me of a piece by Mozart I played 3 million years ago (well, in the mid-70s) at a state musical contest of sorts. When I played the solo at state, I was accompanied on piano by the very prim and proper organist at my mother's church, Mary Jane Malmstadt, who I think told me she went to high school with Liberace. My first brush with fame (sort of)! And we won a gold medal, so it was a success on all fronts.
Why I entered that bit of trivia, I cannot say (but the thought of sedate Mary Jane in class with "flamboyant" Liberace always amused me). Let's sum up by stating that the solo on NPR started a whole lot of wheels turning in my head, and before I knew it, I was looking at my old clarinet. It was not pretty. It has a patched-up crack, the metal is green with age, the keys are all tarnished, and the pads are shot. But, in need of a good distraction, I decided to pursue someone who could decide whether it was fit to recondition, or whether I should just find a nice kazoo and hang my clarinet up for good.
Well, after looking at a number of sites that seemed geared to concert soloists (not someone thinking about reliving her glory days as a band geek), I found a site that seemed more my speed--and it was on Long Island (homeland of my Linda), which recommended it, too.
I e-mailed the repair guy, he called me back, we discussed the clarinet and costs and all sounded good, so over the weekend I put my old constant companion in the hands of the UPS. Today, the repair guy called me, and while he needs to inspect the crack a little more thoroughly before he can say for certain, he thinks the clarinet can be made to play well again. Wooeee!
And then he proceeded to offer me the complete recondition of my clarinet in exchange for the mouthpiece. While I know my clarinet is just okay, I also knew the mouthpiece on my horn was quite good--but I didn't know it was that good. And, as the repair guy explained to me, since the man who made the mouthpiece is no longer among the living, his work is also quite coveted by clarinet players who know about such things. Well, to wrap up (or die trying), the repair guy is also a clarinetist, and he has been looking for just this mouthpiece for a long, long time. So, he's going to recondition my clarinet for my mouthpiece--and he'll throw in a good-quality mouthpiece (worth about $150) so I can still make music on the dear thing.
Isn't that something? Now, if you're like Linda, you're wondering if I should have kept the mouthpiece and put it on Concert Clarinetist eBay or something. Well, that sounds like too much trouble to me--and besides, I did a little research on it, and if it was in perfect condition and never used, the mouthpiece would be worth $575. Since I played on it through high school and a little while after, I'm guessing it would be worth, say, about what it would cost to repair my clarinet.
So, I'm happy, the repair guy is happy, and I'll be torturing Shwea and Linda with clarinet sounds by the fall. Happy day!!!!!!!!!
Why I entered that bit of trivia, I cannot say (but the thought of sedate Mary Jane in class with "flamboyant" Liberace always amused me). Let's sum up by stating that the solo on NPR started a whole lot of wheels turning in my head, and before I knew it, I was looking at my old clarinet. It was not pretty. It has a patched-up crack, the metal is green with age, the keys are all tarnished, and the pads are shot. But, in need of a good distraction, I decided to pursue someone who could decide whether it was fit to recondition, or whether I should just find a nice kazoo and hang my clarinet up for good.
Well, after looking at a number of sites that seemed geared to concert soloists (not someone thinking about reliving her glory days as a band geek), I found a site that seemed more my speed--and it was on Long Island (homeland of my Linda), which recommended it, too.
I e-mailed the repair guy, he called me back, we discussed the clarinet and costs and all sounded good, so over the weekend I put my old constant companion in the hands of the UPS. Today, the repair guy called me, and while he needs to inspect the crack a little more thoroughly before he can say for certain, he thinks the clarinet can be made to play well again. Wooeee!
And then he proceeded to offer me the complete recondition of my clarinet in exchange for the mouthpiece. While I know my clarinet is just okay, I also knew the mouthpiece on my horn was quite good--but I didn't know it was that good. And, as the repair guy explained to me, since the man who made the mouthpiece is no longer among the living, his work is also quite coveted by clarinet players who know about such things. Well, to wrap up (or die trying), the repair guy is also a clarinetist, and he has been looking for just this mouthpiece for a long, long time. So, he's going to recondition my clarinet for my mouthpiece--and he'll throw in a good-quality mouthpiece (worth about $150) so I can still make music on the dear thing.
Isn't that something? Now, if you're like Linda, you're wondering if I should have kept the mouthpiece and put it on Concert Clarinetist eBay or something. Well, that sounds like too much trouble to me--and besides, I did a little research on it, and if it was in perfect condition and never used, the mouthpiece would be worth $575. Since I played on it through high school and a little while after, I'm guessing it would be worth, say, about what it would cost to repair my clarinet.
So, I'm happy, the repair guy is happy, and I'll be torturing Shwea and Linda with clarinet sounds by the fall. Happy day!!!!!!!!!
Friday, June 26, 2009
Now 50 is young, eh?
One of the few gratifying bits of fallout from the untimely demise of Michael Jackson is that many say he died far too young. And as he is just a tad older than yours truly, that makes me feel better about things.
Yes, I know: "Way down deep you're very superficial, Ann Podolske" (yes, I appropriated that line from "Julia"--it's a keeper, isn't it?)
As for my feelings about Michael Jackson? Such a waste. A very talented man, certainly, but an unbridled mess as well. Too much money and not enough therapy was his tragedy. While his family likely set the dysfunctional stage for this poor soul, someone somewhere along the line should have said, "Listen, Michael. You don't need your own theme park, you don't need a hyperbolic (was that it?) chamber, and you sure as hell don't need a chimp as a best friend forever. You need therapy, honey--lots and lots of therapy. Don't spend another dime on anything else until you've been on the couch for a decade--and send those little boys home!"
But no, no one had this talk with him. Or maybe they did, and he chose to buy tons of crap and plastic surgery and keep his inner little boy stoked instead of working on himself. Maybe that was the best he could do.
How sad is that?
As for the other cultural icon who left the planet this week, I must admit I was not a Farrah Fawcett (SP?) fan. I liked the Kate Jackson angel best, as was required by lesbian law (and the show was on even before I knew I was a lesbian--how clueless could a gal be?). Of course, I saw her poster numerous times (I can almost see it hanging up in the Blakes' basement rec room, circa 1976), and thought she was cute, but that's about it. She was a big thing, and then she wasn't. At least she doesn't have the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that Michael Jackson has, and that counts for something, doesn't it?
Well, that's enough muttering for one day--maybe for one week, eh? Happy trails to you all, A
Yes, I know: "Way down deep you're very superficial, Ann Podolske" (yes, I appropriated that line from "Julia"--it's a keeper, isn't it?)
As for my feelings about Michael Jackson? Such a waste. A very talented man, certainly, but an unbridled mess as well. Too much money and not enough therapy was his tragedy. While his family likely set the dysfunctional stage for this poor soul, someone somewhere along the line should have said, "Listen, Michael. You don't need your own theme park, you don't need a hyperbolic (was that it?) chamber, and you sure as hell don't need a chimp as a best friend forever. You need therapy, honey--lots and lots of therapy. Don't spend another dime on anything else until you've been on the couch for a decade--and send those little boys home!"
But no, no one had this talk with him. Or maybe they did, and he chose to buy tons of crap and plastic surgery and keep his inner little boy stoked instead of working on himself. Maybe that was the best he could do.
How sad is that?
As for the other cultural icon who left the planet this week, I must admit I was not a Farrah Fawcett (SP?) fan. I liked the Kate Jackson angel best, as was required by lesbian law (and the show was on even before I knew I was a lesbian--how clueless could a gal be?). Of course, I saw her poster numerous times (I can almost see it hanging up in the Blakes' basement rec room, circa 1976), and thought she was cute, but that's about it. She was a big thing, and then she wasn't. At least she doesn't have the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that Michael Jackson has, and that counts for something, doesn't it?
Well, that's enough muttering for one day--maybe for one week, eh? Happy trails to you all, A
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The end of an era.....
I'm plunk in the middle of my last week as a 40-something, and I think "disbelief" sums things up nicely. How in the hell did I get to be (almost) 50? I mean, I did everything I could to make sure this wouldn't happen in my teens and 20s (smoked, drank to excess, drove while drinking to excess, etc.).
Apparently am supposed to be here, if one believes such things.
Or perhaps Whomever Is in Charge got distracted at key points of my journey, and didn't hit the "EJECT" button when the opportunity--or let's be real, here--opportunities arose. True, I did get hit by a car in my mid-40s (stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact), but that just hurt--and it was damn embarrassing. How does one get herself hit by a car stone-cold sober, when one didn't get hit by a car while staggering around on streets and in traffic, umpteen sheets to the wind in countries where the traffic goes the "wrong" way?
Life is perplexingly unfair, this I know. My current circumstance perhaps most perplexing of all. If I had to describe myself, I'd say I am a caregiver who finds time to work and occasionally have some fun, but mostly I do my gal Linda's bidding. Not terribly successfully, alas. This has been going on for a while now, and while I know that all things come to an end, that does not really offer any comfort. I don't want "all things" to end, even if it means I have to schlep, juice, clean, call, coordinate, drive and what-have-you for my gal until I'm well into my 50s and beyond, exhausting as that premise may be.
A friend on Facebook tells me that her 50s were better than her 40s. This, I hope, is a masterpiece of understatement for yours truly, but only time will tell. And Time, she's a veritable Sphinx right now.
Am looking forward to my birthday, at least. I am having an official Day Off on my day, and will sleep in for the first time in months (February, I think). This constitutes a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Perhaps the key to having one's 50s be better than one's 40s is reduced expectations, eh? Just a thought....
Apparently am supposed to be here, if one believes such things.
Or perhaps Whomever Is in Charge got distracted at key points of my journey, and didn't hit the "EJECT" button when the opportunity--or let's be real, here--opportunities arose. True, I did get hit by a car in my mid-40s (stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact), but that just hurt--and it was damn embarrassing. How does one get herself hit by a car stone-cold sober, when one didn't get hit by a car while staggering around on streets and in traffic, umpteen sheets to the wind in countries where the traffic goes the "wrong" way?
Life is perplexingly unfair, this I know. My current circumstance perhaps most perplexing of all. If I had to describe myself, I'd say I am a caregiver who finds time to work and occasionally have some fun, but mostly I do my gal Linda's bidding. Not terribly successfully, alas. This has been going on for a while now, and while I know that all things come to an end, that does not really offer any comfort. I don't want "all things" to end, even if it means I have to schlep, juice, clean, call, coordinate, drive and what-have-you for my gal until I'm well into my 50s and beyond, exhausting as that premise may be.
A friend on Facebook tells me that her 50s were better than her 40s. This, I hope, is a masterpiece of understatement for yours truly, but only time will tell. And Time, she's a veritable Sphinx right now.
Am looking forward to my birthday, at least. I am having an official Day Off on my day, and will sleep in for the first time in months (February, I think). This constitutes a wonderful, wonderful thing.
Perhaps the key to having one's 50s be better than one's 40s is reduced expectations, eh? Just a thought....
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Remiss, I've been remiss.....
Sorry, but this care giving business is a time hog of enormous proportions. Thanks to a blood transfusion, Linda is stronger than she's been in a while, but still I spend a lot of time making juices, meals, appointments and just being here to take notes during her sessions with doctors, nurses, physical therapists and so on.
Barely have time to see my therapist, and that's just wrong!
People occasionally ask when my next comedy show is, and right now, it's never. That's not due to any sacrifice on my part; I haven't been asked, and I sure as [fill-in-the-blank] haven't had time to pursue any new gigs. The Comedy, she can wait.
Patiently, one hopes.
Watched a few episodes of the "Big Gay Comedy Show!" (I think that's the name) last night, and laughed quite a bit. Some of the skits were hilarious, but some were just mean, and I just don't understand the role of mean in comedy. I think mockery needs to be reserved for oneself and one's demographic--making fun of anyone else, especially someone older, fatter, less attractive, and so forth, isn't comedy. Bullying, maybe, supreme snarkiness, but not comedy.
But since mockery of others figured large in about half of the skits, I'm guessing mocking = comedy for at least half of the planet. Maybe more.
But Julie Goldman, who I had the pleasure of performing with almost two years ago (I think) in Boston, was fabulous in every skit. Born to do sketch comedy, that one.
Now, I think it's nap time. Weekends have their perks!
Barely have time to see my therapist, and that's just wrong!
People occasionally ask when my next comedy show is, and right now, it's never. That's not due to any sacrifice on my part; I haven't been asked, and I sure as [fill-in-the-blank] haven't had time to pursue any new gigs. The Comedy, she can wait.
Patiently, one hopes.
Watched a few episodes of the "Big Gay Comedy Show!" (I think that's the name) last night, and laughed quite a bit. Some of the skits were hilarious, but some were just mean, and I just don't understand the role of mean in comedy. I think mockery needs to be reserved for oneself and one's demographic--making fun of anyone else, especially someone older, fatter, less attractive, and so forth, isn't comedy. Bullying, maybe, supreme snarkiness, but not comedy.
But since mockery of others figured large in about half of the skits, I'm guessing mocking = comedy for at least half of the planet. Maybe more.
But Julie Goldman, who I had the pleasure of performing with almost two years ago (I think) in Boston, was fabulous in every skit. Born to do sketch comedy, that one.
Now, I think it's nap time. Weekends have their perks!
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Patch-a-thon, phase VI
Yesterday, I tried out a new dentist, for my dear ol' reliable dentist is en route to retirement, and has foisted me off on the sweet young "partners" he's brought on board for that purpose.
Not sure that's working for me.
Anyway, I also wanted a dentist who wasn't into mercury fillings, for I've been hearing about how bad they are for one for a while now, but will spare you the details. (This from a gal who watched mercury skitter across her 6th-grade classroom floor with unfettered glee, thanks to a clumsy classmate and a thermometer, but I digress.)
So, I went to a "biological" dentist up in Greenfield. Entered a nice waiting room that was blaring The River (heard Kelsey Flynn as I walked into the office, which I took as a good sign). Picture of the dentist and his dog on the wall (another good sign). There were many delays seeing said dentist (not so good sign), but the staff said this was very unusual, but they had a lot of emergencies. In fact, they said that it felt like a full moon day, for they get a lot more emergency patients on full moon days than any other. (I thought ERs just had that issue, but aparently not.)
But I got to watch a lot of birds and a number of enterprising squirrels at a feeder while I waited, so I was okay. They even gave me a birdwatcher's guide to while away the time. Nice.
Then the dentist came along, and he had a soul patch. That is not something one expects in a dentist, but there it was. Odd. He also referred to Linda as my "friend," even though I referred to her as my partner and my spouse. Slightly irritating. (Not so good sign.)
But he thinks I may have a cavity under a filling and he can fix that, and he had some interesting ideas re Linda's treatment, so I'll be back.
The jury's still out, but let's give them a chance, shall we? And I always like a nice drive up to Greenfield. Almost lived there, but that's a story for another day. Now I must go juice....
Not sure that's working for me.
Anyway, I also wanted a dentist who wasn't into mercury fillings, for I've been hearing about how bad they are for one for a while now, but will spare you the details. (This from a gal who watched mercury skitter across her 6th-grade classroom floor with unfettered glee, thanks to a clumsy classmate and a thermometer, but I digress.)
So, I went to a "biological" dentist up in Greenfield. Entered a nice waiting room that was blaring The River (heard Kelsey Flynn as I walked into the office, which I took as a good sign). Picture of the dentist and his dog on the wall (another good sign). There were many delays seeing said dentist (not so good sign), but the staff said this was very unusual, but they had a lot of emergencies. In fact, they said that it felt like a full moon day, for they get a lot more emergency patients on full moon days than any other. (I thought ERs just had that issue, but aparently not.)
But I got to watch a lot of birds and a number of enterprising squirrels at a feeder while I waited, so I was okay. They even gave me a birdwatcher's guide to while away the time. Nice.
Then the dentist came along, and he had a soul patch. That is not something one expects in a dentist, but there it was. Odd. He also referred to Linda as my "friend," even though I referred to her as my partner and my spouse. Slightly irritating. (Not so good sign.)
But he thinks I may have a cavity under a filling and he can fix that, and he had some interesting ideas re Linda's treatment, so I'll be back.
The jury's still out, but let's give them a chance, shall we? And I always like a nice drive up to Greenfield. Almost lived there, but that's a story for another day. Now I must go juice....
Saturday, April 11, 2009
If one must fall off the wagon.....
No, I didn't fall off that wagon, but I did fall off the highly restricted food plan I've been on thanks to Linda's latest treatment. It is a vegetarian diet with little variety--and no berries! (Very, very hard to walk by strawberries, which have begun showing up in the store.)
Anyway, the only bread is a salt-free rye bread, which has a sourdough base. It's nutritious. It's no-nonsense. It's something I imagine a Russian army or two would have marched 1,000 miles on. It's just not tasty.
So today, after taking care of three errands in one fell swoop (mailing our taxes, depositing our checks and making copies for Linda), I thought I could use a treat. Thought about the Cup and Top in downtown Florence (where I ran all errands in record time), but the line was ridiculous. So I hopped in the car and drove up to Bread Euphoria, where I not only scored a delicious cinnamon bun, I was hugged by a baker (friend Sarah, to be more specific) and met the partner of another gal named Sarah who I have known casually for about as long as I have lived up here.
Delightful!
Didn't tell Linda about the treat, for I don't think it's fair. Sarah (the baker) said my secret is safe with her, so I'm counting on your discretion (she hasn't read this blog in eons).
Anyway, the only other news is that our pipes sprang another leak. (The first being while we were in Mexico. Lovely, that.) Our regular plumber didn't have an emergency number, so I ended up calling Mr. Rooter.
That worked, actually! (Sure it cost a lot more than our regular plumber, but now I don't have to listen to the drip, drip, drip in the bucket. Worth a lot, that.)
Anyway, the only bread is a salt-free rye bread, which has a sourdough base. It's nutritious. It's no-nonsense. It's something I imagine a Russian army or two would have marched 1,000 miles on. It's just not tasty.
So today, after taking care of three errands in one fell swoop (mailing our taxes, depositing our checks and making copies for Linda), I thought I could use a treat. Thought about the Cup and Top in downtown Florence (where I ran all errands in record time), but the line was ridiculous. So I hopped in the car and drove up to Bread Euphoria, where I not only scored a delicious cinnamon bun, I was hugged by a baker (friend Sarah, to be more specific) and met the partner of another gal named Sarah who I have known casually for about as long as I have lived up here.
Delightful!
Didn't tell Linda about the treat, for I don't think it's fair. Sarah (the baker) said my secret is safe with her, so I'm counting on your discretion (she hasn't read this blog in eons).
Anyway, the only other news is that our pipes sprang another leak. (The first being while we were in Mexico. Lovely, that.) Our regular plumber didn't have an emergency number, so I ended up calling Mr. Rooter.
That worked, actually! (Sure it cost a lot more than our regular plumber, but now I don't have to listen to the drip, drip, drip in the bucket. Worth a lot, that.)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
How was last night's show?
It wasn't. Let's just say I am paying the price for staying up past my bedtime--and I didn't even perform. Why? Because I asked not to. Wonder why I would do such an anti-"The Show Must Go On" kind of thing? I direct you to my MySpace page for the details (link to your right).
But the night had its compensations. I got the full 15-minute tour of Jennifer and Scott's home before the show, along with running commentary as to the dubious parentage of the previous owners. Also held hands with Scott and Jennifer for a while, which was odd yet sweet. Never just sat holding hands with friends before for no apparent reason (my hands were held a' plenty when Linda was in surgery, believe me). Just seemed the thing to do.
And yes, this is likely as close to being a "Cougar" as I'll ever be. As if. Wonder if there's a lesbian equivalent? Nothing remotely amusing is coming to me. I'll work on it....
Anyway, today we had a whole-house water filtration system installed, as well as a reverse-osmosis spigot put into the kitchen. All of this wonderful water will be good for our Linda, and for me, actually (no more chlorine drying out my already Saharan skin, for one thing).
Now I must return to my tax prep. Yes, this is getting ridiculous. Am hoping to put an end to it this weekend. Here's hoping!
And here's hoping you're having a much more exciting weekend than I. Though on days such as these, when I'm just dragging my tired carcass around, I'm rather grateful for the absolute lack of excitement on today's menu.
Tomorrow? That'll be another story.
But the night had its compensations. I got the full 15-minute tour of Jennifer and Scott's home before the show, along with running commentary as to the dubious parentage of the previous owners. Also held hands with Scott and Jennifer for a while, which was odd yet sweet. Never just sat holding hands with friends before for no apparent reason (my hands were held a' plenty when Linda was in surgery, believe me). Just seemed the thing to do.
And yes, this is likely as close to being a "Cougar" as I'll ever be. As if. Wonder if there's a lesbian equivalent? Nothing remotely amusing is coming to me. I'll work on it....
Anyway, today we had a whole-house water filtration system installed, as well as a reverse-osmosis spigot put into the kitchen. All of this wonderful water will be good for our Linda, and for me, actually (no more chlorine drying out my already Saharan skin, for one thing).
Now I must return to my tax prep. Yes, this is getting ridiculous. Am hoping to put an end to it this weekend. Here's hoping!
And here's hoping you're having a much more exciting weekend than I. Though on days such as these, when I'm just dragging my tired carcass around, I'm rather grateful for the absolute lack of excitement on today's menu.
Tomorrow? That'll be another story.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Catching up
Had a great show Thursday night at the Log Cabin. It was a fundraiser for a home for aged horses (what's not to like?) put together by a women's business owners organization. Yes, indeed, their were lesbians galore in career separates ((c) by Jennifer Myszkowski), as well as some dear friends (most from church), also of the lavender persuasion. Those women (and a smattering of men) were there to laugh, bless their hearts, and laugh they did. What fun!
Today, I had the flashback-inducing experience of buying fabric. I haven't set foot in a fabric store since I bought material in the early 1970s for bib overalls--our home ec project that year. I think I bought a red, white and blue striped cotton-poly mix. My goddess, those pants were hideous, but it was the '70s, ya know? Hideous was "in."
Yes, indeed, I was in home ec--they didn't let girls take shop back in those benighted times, and honestly, I probably would have been a train wreck at that, too. (I jammed all the sewing machines in our classroom, to give you an idea of my sewing prowess.)
Anyway, I told the clerk about how long it's been since I've bought fabric, and she found that hilarious. She was very helpful and smiling the whole time she helped me find the material I needed (100% white cotton flannel) and so forth. Her coworker found my predicament funny, too. So nice to bring joy along on what could have been a tedious errand, no?
Why am I buying 100% white cotton flannel? It is a key player in the clay packs that Linda needs for pain management. She has been having pain in her abdomen, and slapping on one of these clay-laden packs makes her feel better. That's as good a reason as any, no?
Now I must stop procrastinating and get my taxes together. Problem is, I first need to update my checking account with the last six months (yes, of 2008) of bank statements.
Yes, I knew I was going to pay for letting that slide, and here it is, time to pay! Hope you're having more fun than I (wouldn't be difficult).
Today, I had the flashback-inducing experience of buying fabric. I haven't set foot in a fabric store since I bought material in the early 1970s for bib overalls--our home ec project that year. I think I bought a red, white and blue striped cotton-poly mix. My goddess, those pants were hideous, but it was the '70s, ya know? Hideous was "in."
Yes, indeed, I was in home ec--they didn't let girls take shop back in those benighted times, and honestly, I probably would have been a train wreck at that, too. (I jammed all the sewing machines in our classroom, to give you an idea of my sewing prowess.)
Anyway, I told the clerk about how long it's been since I've bought fabric, and she found that hilarious. She was very helpful and smiling the whole time she helped me find the material I needed (100% white cotton flannel) and so forth. Her coworker found my predicament funny, too. So nice to bring joy along on what could have been a tedious errand, no?
Why am I buying 100% white cotton flannel? It is a key player in the clay packs that Linda needs for pain management. She has been having pain in her abdomen, and slapping on one of these clay-laden packs makes her feel better. That's as good a reason as any, no?
Now I must stop procrastinating and get my taxes together. Problem is, I first need to update my checking account with the last six months (yes, of 2008) of bank statements.
Yes, I knew I was going to pay for letting that slide, and here it is, time to pay! Hope you're having more fun than I (wouldn't be difficult).
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Isn't it romantic?
Have been reading the local San Diego paper while in Mexico, and came across this amusing song title under the heading, Top 5 Digital Songs: "My Life Would Suck Without You," by Kelly Clarkson.
And they say romance is dead.
What similarly underwhelming statements of appreciation could I concoct for my dear sweetie of 16 years? Reviewing recent events, the following come to mind:
"I Wouldn't Be 'Vacationing' in a Questionable Part of Mexico Without You"
Or: "My Knowledge of Enemas Would Be Nada Without You"
Need to noodle on this a bit more, perhaps.
On other fronts, I was also quite taken by another item in the paper featuring Bristol Pallin, Sarah Pallin's teenage daughter who also happens to be an unwed mother. While she asserts that teenagers should avoid having sex, she also admits that abstinence "is not realistic at all."
Thanks for clearing that up, Bristol!
And they say romance is dead.
What similarly underwhelming statements of appreciation could I concoct for my dear sweetie of 16 years? Reviewing recent events, the following come to mind:
"I Wouldn't Be 'Vacationing' in a Questionable Part of Mexico Without You"
Or: "My Knowledge of Enemas Would Be Nada Without You"
Need to noodle on this a bit more, perhaps.
On other fronts, I was also quite taken by another item in the paper featuring Bristol Pallin, Sarah Pallin's teenage daughter who also happens to be an unwed mother. While she asserts that teenagers should avoid having sex, she also admits that abstinence "is not realistic at all."
Thanks for clearing that up, Bristol!
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Brattleboro and comedy on Feb. 27
I'm opening for Joe Wong two days after I return from Mexico at the Hooker-Durham Theatre and Gallery space in Brattleboro, VT. Learn more about the oh-so-reasonably priced show on Friday, Feb.27, by clicking here.
Not to worry, I will not have any "enema" material in my set. My experience "assisting" this procedure has been amusing, but not in a way I can easily convey. Besides, people are squeamish seeing the term in print; I can only imagine their reaction to hearing it on stage. Methinks I'd hear the crickets singing....
All I know is I am looking forward to this, for I have enjoyed amusing the folks at the clinic, but I want some stage time, and soon.
Not to worry, I will not have any "enema" material in my set. My experience "assisting" this procedure has been amusing, but not in a way I can easily convey. Besides, people are squeamish seeing the term in print; I can only imagine their reaction to hearing it on stage. Methinks I'd hear the crickets singing....
All I know is I am looking forward to this, for I have enjoyed amusing the folks at the clinic, but I want some stage time, and soon.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Look what I found!
In case this isn't legible, the website can be found here.
That's not all, people! I have a show in Brattleboro just when I get back (on Friday, Feb. 27), and will endeavor to find something similar for that (Joe Wong is the headliner; this much I know).
Thursday, February 05, 2009
South of the border....
Am keeping myself amused while in not-so-sunny Mexico (a very large rain storm is upon us) by roaming the streets of the Internet. Am enjoying the fact that a lot of the pages I'm used to viewing (Google, for one major example) are in Spanish. A nice change, that, though it took me a while to figure out which word/phrase meant "sign in" for this blog (Acceder, I think).
Checked our home voicemail yesterday, and received a very amusing message from my Aunt Libby, a grand gal who is the last living member of my mother's generation of family. As such, she is well versed with the saga of the Republican branch discussed below, and learned from my sister about the comic coincedence at the Comedy Studio the other night. (My performing on the same stage as the daughter of my cousin, the GOP congressman, to be specific.)
"That's a kick," she said. "I didn't know anybody in that family had any humor."
Ouch. That's about as direct as my people get--and Libby has been known to vote Republican, so that's not her politics talking.
May explain why our families "lost touch" years ago, eh?
Checked our home voicemail yesterday, and received a very amusing message from my Aunt Libby, a grand gal who is the last living member of my mother's generation of family. As such, she is well versed with the saga of the Republican branch discussed below, and learned from my sister about the comic coincedence at the Comedy Studio the other night. (My performing on the same stage as the daughter of my cousin, the GOP congressman, to be specific.)
"That's a kick," she said. "I didn't know anybody in that family had any humor."
Ouch. That's about as direct as my people get--and Libby has been known to vote Republican, so that's not her politics talking.
May explain why our families "lost touch" years ago, eh?
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Show tonight!
Yes, tonight around 8:00 I have a 15-minute set at Alexander's Restaurant in Feeding Hills (Agawam?), MA. More info on my MySpace page (link to the right).
OVERDONE ALERT: As of yesterday, I have a Facebook page, too, for apparently I need to have more websites than Heinz has pickles....
The good news is that Facebook is not as youth-oriented as I had feared, especially as during registration it asked a lot of questions about where and went I went to school (including high school, as if that matters a whit). But once I put my site together, a veritable deluge of face cream ads appeared, and realized Facebook isn't for kids anymore.
On other fronts, an amusing thing happened at the Comedy Studio Thursday night. I had a good set, which of course, was amusing in its own way, but that's not the "thing." Another comic on the docket that night was a young woman, also from Wisconsin, who also made a good show. Since much commentary was made about the large Midwestern contingent that night, we chatted afterwards. I remembered her first name, but not her last, until I got home that night, and looked at the night's lineup. Funny, her last name was the same as that of my cousin the Republican congressman, who I discussed here (he keeps me from being the black sheep of the family, bless his heart). Turns out she is the daughter of that congressman, and while I e-mailed her to share my discovery, she hasn't e-mailed back.
Am guessing she hasn't responded because my branch of the family was not exactly looked upon favorably by her branch--while the congressman is a bit of an embarrassment to my liberal democratic family, our liberal, democratic ways likely made the congressman and his clan flinch.
She might not have even known about our family. Hope I didn't open a can o' familial worms. Or maybe I do--secrets are rarely a good idea.
Or maybe she just doesn't want to contemplate having a big, old dykesauras as a relative. One can see where that could be problematic, eh?
Oh well, it is amusing--and a little weird--to contemplate. It also suggests there may be some sort of standup comedy gene.
Oddness!
OVERDONE ALERT: As of yesterday, I have a Facebook page, too, for apparently I need to have more websites than Heinz has pickles....
The good news is that Facebook is not as youth-oriented as I had feared, especially as during registration it asked a lot of questions about where and went I went to school (including high school, as if that matters a whit). But once I put my site together, a veritable deluge of face cream ads appeared, and realized Facebook isn't for kids anymore.
On other fronts, an amusing thing happened at the Comedy Studio Thursday night. I had a good set, which of course, was amusing in its own way, but that's not the "thing." Another comic on the docket that night was a young woman, also from Wisconsin, who also made a good show. Since much commentary was made about the large Midwestern contingent that night, we chatted afterwards. I remembered her first name, but not her last, until I got home that night, and looked at the night's lineup. Funny, her last name was the same as that of my cousin the Republican congressman, who I discussed here (he keeps me from being the black sheep of the family, bless his heart). Turns out she is the daughter of that congressman, and while I e-mailed her to share my discovery, she hasn't e-mailed back.
Am guessing she hasn't responded because my branch of the family was not exactly looked upon favorably by her branch--while the congressman is a bit of an embarrassment to my liberal democratic family, our liberal, democratic ways likely made the congressman and his clan flinch.
She might not have even known about our family. Hope I didn't open a can o' familial worms. Or maybe I do--secrets are rarely a good idea.
Or maybe she just doesn't want to contemplate having a big, old dykesauras as a relative. One can see where that could be problematic, eh?
Oh well, it is amusing--and a little weird--to contemplate. It also suggests there may be some sort of standup comedy gene.
Oddness!
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