I went to see the new Batman movie last night. It had a lot of chasing and fighting. Fake fighting and lots of chasing--maybe that works for boys, but it couldn't hold my attention. I could use a simple segue--maybe like a comic book--where a sign is held up that says, "meanwhile..." or "when our heroes caught up with the bad guy..." So I napped off and on, and made it through that way, head on M's shoulder.
The rest of the weekend, particularly Sunday's shower, was lovely.Saturday I went dancing in Mineola for the first time in months. Interesting how you can be gone from a place for half a year and nothing really changes.
Here at the house, things continue to change. I lay low, really try not to make waves. Bide my time, I suppose, though that sounds more sinister than I feel.
I had yellow-label generics growing up. An aisle of them at the commissary, bright packaging with simple black labels. OATMEAL. SPAGHETTI. It meant cheap, and make-do, especially when we were overseas and there was nothing else available. It gave me a start to see them in the supermarket today:
I don't want my world to change.
On missing someone: It's not that I miss them constantly, it's that I think, oh, I want to share this..., I want to do this..., I want to give this..., and can't. So it's unhappiness at the denial, I guess. And those reminders seem like little stabs, which is perhaps worse than if I missed them low-level, constantly. Because I have forgotten they were gone.
This is worse with death, I know, than vacation, because vacations end, people usually come back. But missing people sucks. And there's always that half-worry that they won't come back, and you'll be left with half-impulses, things that can never happen.
(Not missing someone is just mild relief that they're gone, and their return is not exactly dreaded, but faced with grim certainty. Being alone does have its pleasant side.)
it feels better to have a game plan for the next thirty days. there is action, but not upheaval. everyone is pleased.
why don't i have any action items on my list?
I signed up at our local community college last night. First class is in two weeks.
So, I may be employable again, in a completely new field, by the end of the year.
I'm feeling pretty okay about this.
It's indicative that I went to Goodwill this morning--not just shopping, but "By The Pound" digging with these ladies for an hour--to relax. They were swooping in as the new bins were being unloaded onto the tables. I waited until they finished sorting through; I wasn't desperate today, just browsing for some cool clothes for California. Some great scores. $9 for my 4 1/2 pounds which included: an unworn illig skirt for A (retail +14k yen) and a NWT skimpy top for Rendezvous.
I used to have these sorting dreams, where I had to figure out what to pack, or what to keep, from unending piles of stuff. This store is a just like those dreams. Except when I wake up I get to keep my prizes..
It's 2008, and I have discovered how to add video to my computer. I am a supra-genius.
Here, for your viewing enjoyment, is six minutes of my grandparents, filmed by my daughter. It's dark--I said I added it. Editing is higher up the learning curve :) It gets lighter about halfway through.
I'd suggested that A ask for the story of how they met, which seemed like a classic that would make good TV. My grandmother had been kind enough to write out a book of memories for me in the early '80s, which included this vignette:
...A week or so after school started (fall 1935) a tall blond senior asked to sit with me on the ride home. We talked, then he asked how many cows my father had. He was sitting with me on a dare, and his dad was realy biased about other races. I was so tanned, he thought I might be Portugese, but when I said only 1, he relaxed and that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
(The Portugese were apparently the big dairy farmers of rural California between the wars. Cultural context is so interesting.) You can speculate as you like on why this bit was left out of the new millenium version of the story.
So there you go. Whee! Three posts in one day. Brenner may have a heart attack.
I found a few of these images a bit personal.
(So, let's try something different today: saying what's actually going on.)
[/med update on]
I'm seeing a new pdoc. After several introductory appointments, he's done a revolutionary thing and made some reductions, not just changes, in my medication. Whee. And I can tell that there are changes.
Just one AD, not two. (Why two? he asked me. I don't know, I think it was some kind of transition plan that didn't come to fruition. I got dropped four months ago from my previous pdoc; they bumped my appointment and neither of us bothered to reschedule.) Onto a new drug with the scary-sounding classification of 'Anti-psychotic.' And finally, tapering off the damn Topamax. I swear, it's what's been making me stupid for so long.
It'll be interesting to see how all this changes things.
[/med update off]
I'm scrambling today, actually. We've got a re-infestation of a nasty social parasite, via our youngest daughter. I hadn't even heard of this one when it first came up about a year ago, and since then I think we've become the most well educated family I know. My husband was informed of my girl's predicament last night--I was passed out in a medicated twilight zone--and they spent a couple hours researching online and then made a midnight run to the drug store. In the last 20 hours, she has been completely moved out of her room, and we've begun the process of washing every item she owns in hot water and bleach. If it can't be washed, it'll be sitting in her room for the amount of time it takes for the eggs to die (nope, no available fumigation method) plus an extra month to be safe. We're not doing this one again. So she'll live in the guest room (with a superior hygiene regimen) until Halloween, and we'll get a nice long time to paint her old bedroom.
(Nope, we're not messing around. There was a guy on the message board who's been fighting it for five years. We'll make the second go-round the last, thanks.)
And that's what pre-empted my day: I'd actually planned to pack, since I'm leaving for a 'surprise' trip to California day after tomorrow. It's hot as heck, and I'm going to the Sacramento Valley, but My Presence Is Required, and I do get to see my uber-cool grandma and assorted kinfolk. But Wednesday is nearly over, and I have put nothing in my suitcase!
Even worse: I arrive home next Thursday night, and leave Friday morning for the Harley Rendezvous in upstate New York. Ok, worse is not the right word to describe my virgin trip to this apparent drunken titty paradise, but I come in on a midnight flight, and we're supposed to be there "any time on Friday," so I'm trying to pre-pack now for next weekend, when I thought I had an extra week until a few days ago. So lots of tent rolling, sleeping-bag-airing, and trying to figure out just what it is I'll want to eat on top of a bottomless mug of beer.
[/conspiratorial whisper on]
Now, I'll tell you, there's a little more up than that, but it's all spoken in half-words and arranged toothpicks. It feels like it's good, but is it only because it's movement, and any movement feels like progress? I'm worried, because movement too close to the edge can send you toppling over.
[/conspiratorial whisper off]
