Another Saturday Night

I have to say, I am not so much enjoying the constant sense of pukiness (with apologies to poolagirl) that the sinus infection brings. I sure hope those antibiotics kick in for tomorrow. I'm feeling generally eh.

But it could always be worse, as they say. My dear Colleague called me this morning to say that she tripped on her way out of school and to her car the other day and fell flat on her face and broke her nose. I believe the EMT who came, or maybe it was the doctor, used the word "smashed." So, ick. But she said she had no pain at all during the whole ordeal, only a little now from some stitches they had to put in her mouth. (The impact knocked some of her dental implants off.) So she's home, can't drive, can't even ride in a car until tomorrow, and her husband is in rehab recovering from knee surgery, so her daughter, only a few blocks away, is on active duty. (I too am at her service, but I know she'll never call me.) All things considered, way worse than a sinus infection.

In other news, I have no big preparation to do before school starts except to get some cooking out of the way so I have single serving lunch stuff handy; I expect to do that on Monday. I didn't even feel up to putting a load of laundry in today, although I think I'll get to it after I post this. R is off at a wedding until Monday (she's in the wedding party), so I'm going over tomorrow to feed Trillian, my grandcat. K would go, but she was supposed to be away this weekend so the Sibs and I made plans to go there together. K's plans fell through, though, so she's still home.

Thinking a great deal this weekend about K's wonderful friend Matt who has been down in Mississippi for over a year doing Katrina relief work, and hoping that he and all those he's done so much for will be safe and dry. If I were a pray-er, I'd be praying, but Matt's dad is a pastor, so I know he's got those bases covered.


WATCHING THE PHILADELPHIA STORY :: ENTRY #1846
SUMMER BOOK #9: The Know-It-All by A.J. Jacobs

Small Game Hunt

So when Obama's speech was over last night, I was very tired and all I wanted was a quick bathroom visit and then sleeeeep. I turned on the bathroom light and closed the door and saw something scurry away.

Shit.

My bathroom is very small. Not counting the tub, it's a five by five foot square. So I watched while the little bitty mouse ran laps around the border of the room. (The Hubs says its was probably a vole, which I guess it was, but I'm still going with mouse.)

I was trapped. If I opened the door, he would have scurried right out into the house. I had to find something in the bathroom that I could use to trap him and take him outside. This took something like twenty minutes. (It was only after about five that I said to myself, "Hey, it's a mouse. You can pee in front of a mouse," and got that taken care of.)

Ultimately, I found a plastic box of wipes -- thank god for preparation-H -- and set it where I thought the little creature would investigate, and he did; I snapped it shut and set him free on the front porch.

And then, of course, I was WIDE AWAKE.

Onto more important things, I enjoyed Obama's speech very much, as one might expect, and I feel very confident about my choice in the upcoming election. (Confident in my choice, not necessarily confident of their success, although I do anticipate it.) I think Biden is a wonderfully strong vice-presidential candidate. I still don't understand people who formerly supported Clinton now choosing McCain over Obama. I just don't get it.

I think McCain's VP choice is odd, not because there's anything wrong with Palin, as such, I just don't think she's a strong candidate. As others have been saying on TV all day, the issue of Obama's lack of experience is now off the table, because Palin has so much less, and McCain is asking us to put her a heartbeat away from the presidency. I think a much better choice for him would have been Olympia Snowe, the senator from Maine, who's a moderate Republican and has a lot of experience and would have been a real draw for the former Clinton supporters. But that's just me. Ah well, at least I can stop watching MSNBC for a few days.

Sinus infections, I want to tell you, suck big time. I don't even have much pain this time, although I do have a kind of constant normal headache, but my real marker of a sinus infection is a distorted sense of smell (and sometimes taste.) It's like my nose is hanging over an open trash barrel all day, ergo, disgusting. Not an appetite stimulant, I can tell you that. I did manage some soft-boiled eggs before, though.

Okay, TMI.


WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1845
SUMMER BOOK #8: The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs

And ...

Interesting comments on yesterday's entry. One in particular gave me some thinking to do, the one about Jehovah's Witnesses not pledging or standing. I admire a greal deal about Jehovah's Witnesses, and I knew their beliefs prohibited them from pledging, which I have no problems with, of course, as I said yesterday. I still don't get the no standing thing, though.

Here's the ultimate question: when one religious belief conflicts with others, and the people are trying to co-exist, how do you decide which one gets precedence; in effect, which person gets to offend the other person? Now, I realize in this case, the pledge is not a religious thing, but it is an important part of many people's belief system. If they are offended by someone not standing in their midst, again, who gets to have the dominant beliefs?

I'll give you a different hypothetical, one that is a big issue for lots of people: abortion. In my spiritual view -- and this is spiritual, not political -- a fetus is not a human life in the sense that a living person is. Abortion is a personal decision, as far as I'm concerned, and people who choose to have them, I think, do not think of fetuses as human beings. There are many others whose religious beliefs are different, and who believe that fetuses are human being from conception, and therefore abortion is wrong. I support their right to have these beliefs, of course, and these people should not have abortions. Should one set of beliefs dominate over the other? I don't know, I'm asking, not answering. And this is a much more serious issue than standing or sitting for the pledge of allegiance.

Here's another one. Certain religions forbid eating certain foods. If a member of one of these groups is living as a minority of one among people of different religions, should that one person be forced to eat the food the others are eating, even it violates their beliefs? What if there are no other foods available?

Again, these are questions, not answers. I'm reading an interesting book at the moment -- see below -- that addresses a variety of questions raised by religious faith. So I'm more off the wall than usual.

I got my hair cut today, and saw a doctor to get meds for a sinus infection. It was my doctor's day off, so I got to meet the other internist in the group, who was very nice. Tomorrow, essentially my last day of vacation *sob*, I'm getting some blood work done and then going to the nutritionist. So there ya go.

WATCHING MSNBC :: ENTRY #1844
SUMMER BOOK #8: The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs

Getting My Rant On

(But first, Rosie, I think I may have read that book years and years and years ago. I seem to recall that one summer up there, we were taking turns with it, but it may have been something else.)

Okay, the rant. I'm responding to something in Dear Abby yesterday that irritated me, but it's a pain to write in to her, so here you are.

The letter writer says that she does not say the Pledge of Allegiance for religious reasons, and does not stand because that would be participating. Abby supported her right not to say the Pledge and not to stand, and had harsh words for those who mistreat the woman because of it. (Which was the reason she wrote in the first place; people are mean to her because she doesn't say it or stand.)

Well. And, well.

I would guess that this is not an issue for most people who are not children, because really, how often are you called upon to recite the Pledge of Allegiance? (Or is that part of a sobriety test?) Unless you're a teacher, and then you're called upon to say it every day. So let's figure some stuff out here ...

I was a student for 13 years, times roughly 180 days, that's 2340.

I've been a teacher for 31 and a half years, let's say 31, times 180 days, that's 5580.

I was a Girl Scout leader, often with two troops that met weekly, for about ten years, so let's say that would be in the general area of 600.

So in theory, I could have said the Pledge of Allegiance 8520 times in my life. Now, let's look at that li'l ol' Pledge again:

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the country for which it stands: one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

It's a promise, yes, a commitment? What earthly point is there in anyone ever having to say it more than once? You said it, you meant it, case closed.

Which occurred to me somewhere during my junior year of high school, when I stopped saying it. This irritated Jack, but I explained that it wasn't an issue of patriotism; I love my country and am as loyal an American as you can find. But the Pledge is stupid. The schoolchildren who recite it by rote every day don't even know what they're saying; it's become a meaningless piece of singsong drivel to them. (And don't get me started on pledging my loyalty to a piece of cloth.)

Okay, I don't pledge (unless the mood strikes me, and I do, I did at the Girl Scout meetings), which Dear Abby said was okey-dokey. But she said that her letter writer didn't have to stand. Ohhhh. No. Wrong, Dear Abby. I think she does. It doesn't imply participation. It implies respect for a custom that means something to the people around her. She's made it clear by not reciting it that it isn't her thing, fine. But it is very, very rude to show contempt for a national or religious custom that others around you are honoring.

Would I, a woman, enter a Mosque with my head uncovered because I'm not a Muslim? I would not. If I were in France and the French flag were carried in front of me, I would certainly stand to show my respect for the people of the country I'm in (and probably save my life, because I think they are damn serious about that in France.) It is the custom of that place or those people, and I should show my respect to it, that's all. It's not participation, it's good manners.

In my school, the Pledge is recited over the loudspeaker each morning for the whole school to follow along (and always has been, even when I was a student there.) You can be sure that if there are students in the library, I make sure that they stand, as I do. I do not speak or put my hand over my heart because, as I've said, been there, done that. If anyone is in the hallway and the Pledge comes on, we stop and stand respectfully until it's over (even if "I pledge .. " is accompanied by a teacher's robust "STOP!" to get running kids to hold on for a minute.) Especially in a school like mine, where there are so many foreign-born children, it's especially important to make sure that they understand this American custom.

So there. Dear Abby, you are wrong, but you'll have to read my diary to find out.


WATCHING THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1843
SUMMER BOOK #8: The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs

Still Scanning

I was at the Sibs' today, and mentioned that there are few old pictures I can't find and did she have them; she handed over a little ziploc bag with about a dozen pictures in it, including one of the ones I wanted. I don't know why she had this odd assortment handy, but there it was. Anyway, I won't share them all now, maybe one here and there, but here's one for today:




It's not a good picture of any of these people, but it's a good picture. This was 1978. Wonderful Niece was a wee thing, and she's on the lap of my Grandma Ida, so, her great-grandmother, who died in 1979. Flanked, of course, by the Sibs and Shirl. Four generations of the general group of us.

I've learned the hard way that I still can't have caffeine; my blood work came back to the doctor showing that I'm dehydrated -- I'm really not -- because caffeine will try to do that to you. Bummer. Resnick looked at me over the tops of his glasses and was kind enough not to say "What kind of idiot are you?" So I'm pushing fluids like crazy, no more caffeine, and more blood work on Friday. Goody.

I'm going into school for a couple of hours tomorrow morning, joy. I'll let you know if I make it out alive.


WATCHING TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #1842
SUMMER BOOK #7: My Life in France by Julia Child

The Day of the News

Thanks for all the kind remarks on yesterday's pictures, all. Yes, the picture of Jack at the park is a special one for me, too. When he was semi-retired (as at this time) and later retired (when my mother became ill), one of my greatest delights was running into him unexpectedly. It was usually at his second home, ShopRite, but sometimes like this at the park, sometimes at the deli. Sometimes I would be driving on the local lanes of Route 80 (which is the road that runs from New York City to San Francisco), and I'd see him up ahead of me, on his way home from work, and I'd follow him home, just for giggles.

Anyway, today's news is that the Democratic convention starts tonight, and I haven't talked politics in a while, so here's a little.

I'm looking forward to seeing Ted Kennedy tonight, who is a real political (not always personal) hero to me. I find it ironic, if that's the word, that he was considered the least promising of the Kennedy brothers, but simply because he didn't die young, he's been able to accomplish the most for the American people. And now, of course, I feel a brain-tumor kinship with him, although mine was not malignant. And I understand there's a Ken Burns film about him (or the Kennedys in general) tonight. And Caroline will be speaking as well.

I'm also curious to see Obama's sister, who will be speaking tonight.

I'm remembering watching the convention with K four years ago, and when this guy running for the Senate from Illinois made his speech, we turned to each other and said "Wow! I wanna vote for him in 2012!" because we were hoping that Kerry would win and serve his eight years, of course. Anyway, I was impressed with Obama then, and yes, he could be a little more seasoned, but to me, he's still the better choice this time around. And I was never much of a Hillary fan.

I like Biden, too, but I was hoping Obama had him in mind for Secretary of State. I really wanted to see Bill Richardson as Vice-President. I like Biden a lot, but I think that would have been a stronger ticket. And it would also not mean the loss of yet another Democrat in the Senate, but I guess those results remain to be seen.

So I guess my TV watching is laid out for the week. Don't forget to vote!


WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1841
SUMMER BOOK #7: My Life in France by Julia Child

Be Afraid.

Not that I haven't had a whole summer to do projects, but yesterday I mentioned to K that I had been looking for a particular picture and couldn't find it on my computer, and she said "It's in one of the albums." I found it right away, and then realized that I had never scanned in a whole lot of pictures that were in the albums I kept years ago. Run now, while you have the chance.

I scanned in very many, so this is only a sample, but these are all good ones. Also, after looking over the albums, I felt compelled to prove to you that I really did have a magical-looking child. (But they're not all of her.) Here goes.
It's not a well-lit picture, but if you want to know what I really look like, this is it. If I could go back and look forever like any particular time in my life, it would be this. Look at that flat tummy! This was about 1978, standing on the shores of Squam Lake in New Hampshire.




Is that a whole lot of baby, or what? This was probably the last time I was actually able to hold both of them at once. Look at that head on the left! When they were born, he looked huge and she looked like a little scrawn, but in fact, they were both over five pounds, and only a half pound different from each other. 1978 as well.


I couldn't resist another picture of my special good guy, the one who's getting married in a few weeks. Look at that punim! He was very intently watching the Memorial Day Parade. 1982.



A strange one, but a favorite; I made it my wallpaper after I scanned it yesterday. In March 1982, a week after R's first birthday, my father had a heart attack. As a result, he took up exercise for the first time since V-E day. One lovely summer day, I took baby R to the park near our house, and took pictures of her on the swings and so on, and at one point, I turned around and saw Jack walking his laps around the pond. He didn't know we were there and we didn't know he's be there, either. 1982.



She had the biggest eyes in the world. This was about a month before her second birthday, so, R, 1983.




This is the picture I was originally looking for. I had taken her for a haircut and said to the stylist "Not too short!" and she cut off a hank of hair over the kid's ear and said "What did you say?" Not that it didn't look good on her. She still keeps her hair short. Summer 1983, in the ILs' backyard.




I ask you, is that a face? From around the same time.




I've posted a variety of pictures of Jack and Shirl, but mostly when they were old. Here they are with R, age 2, so, 1983. Her hair is starting to grow back a bit.



I was taking pictures to go out with the Christmas cards, and she was being the super-model, striking a different pose after each camera snap. So, fall, 1983.



About six months later, spring 1984. Although she's average-sized now, she was a very petite child and very well-proportioned, so she always looked kind of like a whole person, just shrunk down to tiny. Really. I think I have made my point.



Together again for the first time. Summer, 1984, and all the players are in place now. Big sister R and little sister K, ready to go.

I finished one whole album, but I'm not quite ready to do the next one yet (or as K says, "the one with the really interesting pictures in it.") Another time, perhaps. If you've stuck with it this long, I appreciate your patience!


WATCHING E! :: ENTRY #1840
SUMMER BOOK #7: My Life in France by Julia Child

Music and Meme

I have a bazillion random things in my head that I was going to write about, but I'll just calm them down with this little meme from John, although I won't do it quite as well as he did. Name "three concerts I’d dearly like to have attended."

Tops on my list is a very easy question. I wanted to see the Beatles at Shea Stadium. I mean, I really really really wanted to see the Beatles at Shea Stadium. I was 12 years old, so going there on my own was out of the question, although my friend Jessica's parents would have had no problem with her making the bus and subway trip to Queens on her own. (She had been traveling like that to piano lessons in Queens since she was five, with her eight year old sister. Yes, from New Jersey.) Jessica and I called the stadium on the day of the concert and found out that there were still tickets and they were very affordable. My sister was 17, and had a boyfriend with a car. They had to take us.

As you might gather, they didn't. I begged and pleaded. We were going to pay for their tickets, of course, and all the gas and tolls. My sister finally said that if I could make myself cry real tears, they would do it. I did. They didn't. I still remind her of this occasionally, especially when I'm trying to get her to do something for me.

#2: Like John, I always wanted to see Simon and Garfunkel. I saw Paul Simon in D.C. in 1973 or 74, when There Goes Rhymin' Simon was just coming out. It was the first stop on his tour, so we heard all these songs before anyone. It was fabulous. Years later, he was doing a three night gig in New York; this must have been 1978 or so, and there were rumors that Artie would come out and play with him one of the nights. The Hubs and I went with the Sibs and her first husband; I believe we went to the first and third nights. Artie showed up on night two. Bummer. But Paul Simon gave a helluva concert.

#3: Bob Dylan. Except this one sort of doesn't count. I don't remember when it was, after R was born at least, and the Hubs and I went to a Dylan concert in west Jersey. It was at some kind of very muddy campground, and everywhere we looked there were Hell's Angels. We had second row seats, so we were expecting a great show, at least. Unfortunately, there was a Hell's Angels sized amp on the stage, right between Bob and us, and the acoustics in the tent were terrible. (And you really need good acoustics for Bob Dylan, because, let's face it, age has no been kind to his voice.) We were there, we heard some stuff, we never saw him. And like the Beatles, although for different reasons, it's a little too late now.

And not quite a concert at the time, but one night when I was in college, two friends and I drove around for hours and hours, looking for a little club called, really, The Joint in the Woods, because one of the friends wanted to see this guy who was playing there who used to play at his high school dances down at the shore, and he was going to be big someday! We never found the Joint, but eventually, we got to hear Bruce Springsteen play anyway.

Although I was never a huge concert goer, I was lucky enough in my day to see Harry Chapin (a helluva performer), Bruce Springsteen (when he was just hitting the big time), Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes (at their first show in Asbury Park in years, a knockout show, and none of you ever heard of him), and finally, last year, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. I had seen all four of them before, but never together; it was like heaven in a time machine, man. And I've seen the Moody Blues too many times to count.

Perhaps I'll rant tomorrow.


WATCHING MURPHY BROWN :: ENTRY #1839
SUMMER BOOK #7: My Life in France by Julia Child

Just an Ordinary Day

More or less. When the Hubs came in a little while ago, he said he had to be at the airport early tomorrow, because he was going to be named as Obama's running mate. Heh.

You may or may not recall that after the Crohn's diagnosis, I vowed that I would never be obsessive about food again. And I am true to my vow. What I didn't consider was that one day K would go on W8 Watchers and she would obsess about food and I would have to go along for the ride. Hmm.

I'm not counting points or doing any of that, although she certainly is. She has also decided to start cooking, which is not as charming at the end of the week as it was at the beginning. She doesn't actually know how to cook, so this is all new to her. (Despite anything I've ever said, I do know how to cook, I just generally prefer not to.) She finds recipes and decides to make them, which is fine, and then she makes a list of ingredients as long as your arm, and we go food shopping. Oy. Vey. Once you know what you're doing, you take shortcuts, like leaving off the garnish if you want to, but she's not up to that yet. My refrigerator is bursting with food, nearly all of it ingredients for something or other. Earlier this week, she realized that she wasn't going to be able to make the chicken we got, so I had to freeze it. Her cooking skills are not yet up to knowing how to freeze things.

By the time we got back from the supermarket this afternoon, she had a migraine, which, okay, happens, but she was grumpy. I went back out to the fish market to get the halibut for tonight's recipe -- no halibut at the A & P -- and they were out of it, too, so I got sole. I thought, if I tell her it's not halibut, she'll freak, so I offered to make it, a very simple baked halibut sole, but just before we sat down she bounced into the room extolling the virtues of Excedrin Migraine pills, so I told her, and all is well. And it was very good, too.

That's the extent of my news for the day. (I had not a single thing to write about yesterday.) I have a week to go before school starts, roughly. I've got to make the most of what time I've got!

(Oh, here's a good one. I got email from the Chum today, whose name, btw, is Chum Phelps, and says as far as she's concerned, the best thing about the Olympics is that she hasn't had to spell her name to anyone on the phone all summer. Another little heh.)

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1838
SUMMER BOOK #7: My Life in France by Julia Child

May I Recommend ...

I haven't changed the thing at the end of my entry that says what book I'm reading, but I just finished reading that book a few minutes ago. My sister has been telling me for years to read Fannie Flagg, but I only read Standing in the Rainbow a few weeks ago and now Can't Wait to Get to Heaven, and listen: read these books. They were just wonderful, warm reads. Now I have to read Welcome to the World, Baby Girl, which I think is actually the first of the three -- they have characters and settings in common -- but I just loved this one. Should I ever got another cat, I must name it Elner. If I get two cats, I must name them Elner and Sonny.

K made dinner for me again. Really, I should have put that kid on W8 Watchers ten years ago. Of course, she weighed 95 pounds ten years ago, if that, since she was 14 and a rail (although she was a rail carrying a 32D around in front of her.)

Lo and behold, the other one found her car registration (in case you were still wondering.) It seems that when it arrived in the mail, she forgot to look inside and take out the part that has to stay in the car; she just filed the whole thing, envelope and all. We may get that car inspected yet.

So, the nephew's wedding is coming up on September 12, a Friday night, and now we have been invited to the rehearsal dinner, which is certainly lovely, but that, of course is on a Thursday night, a good 45 minutes or more north of here. I can't help but wonder if they didn't quite think this all through. K has a class that night, and R can't get home from work in time to go. The Hubs is also working that Thursday and Friday, and will join us for the wedding after work, but can't make it to the Thursday thing. I'm taking that Friday off as a personal day, and I'll go up to the rehearsal dinner with the Sibs and her hubby. We have hotel rooms there for Friday night, but it seems crazy to stay there Thursday night too, just for this.

In other news, I got no other news. It was a perfect summer day here today, no humidity, crisp breeze. It was like waking up in the morning on the shore of Squam Lake.

WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1837
SUMMER BOOK #7: Can't Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg

EEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

School starts two weeks from today!

I think I'm actually okay with that, though. I'll know better after I talk it out in therapy tomorrow morning. Heh heh.

My big adventure today was the glasses thing, which went well everywhere, but it might be two weeks before my new lenses come in. That whole glasses-in-one-hour thing apparently does not apply to freaks like me. My distance rx, says the doctor, is as good as it's gonna get. Why is it still a little fuzzy? Oh, that's the cataracts. Cool.

She says, btw, that everyone gets cataracts, they just don't interfere with everybody's vision. She says I could get the surgery now -- I won't -- but that you no longer have to wait until your cataracts are "ripe." I figure I can wait it out, since it's really not a problem now, and by the time I'm ready to do it, technology can only improve, and I'll have some better options.

Nothing of substance really going on, then. Although for no particular reason today, I really really really want to get a dog. For a change. Ah well.


WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1836
SUMMER BOOK #7: Can't Wait to Get to Heaven by Fannie Flagg

The Difference

I won't go so far as to to say that this is the difference between men and women -- I'll tell you why in a minute -- but this may be one of the essential differences between the Man and the Woman in this house.

R was due in from Mexico yesterday. She had a very long layover in Charlotte, during which time I talked to her twice. I asked her to call me when she arrived in Newark and was with the driver I asked her to get, and again when she was in her apartment. I should point out that I was not stressed or crazy at any point during her trip, although two months ago, I would have been a wreck every day. Anyway, when the Hubs went to bed, I told him that if he heard a late night phone ring, it would be R calling to tell me she was home. He nodded -- maybe -- but said nothing, because in his world, this is a statement and does not require a response. O.Kay.

I got her calls on schedule and fell asleep immediately. Somewhere in my head I thought that first thing in the morning I would email the Hubs and work and his parents so everyone knew the kid was in. Of course, I woke up this morning and completely forgot to do that.

I went out and did some stuff and came home to a phone message from the FIL just asking nicely if she had gotten in all right. I called them back right away, but got a busy signal. And then I forgot about it until a few hours later, on the way to Target with K, I suddenly said "Oh! I didn't call Gramps back!" and she called him and left a message. Later when we were home, I called them again to make sure they had gotten the message and knew she was in etc. etc. and all was well there.

The Hubs got home from work around six. I said, "Oh, R called around midnight last night; she got in fine." He said "I figured I would have heard if it were otherwise."

Well ... yeah. If I hadn't gotten a phone call and couldn't reach her, you can be sure my screams would have awakened him at some point. But he could always go to sleep when the kids were out, or flying, or driving to Canada, or whatever. He trusts that he will hear if it is otherwise. I, however, NEED TO KNOW.

And it's not a gender thing because clearly, his father also needs to know. My parents too would have needed to know. Even the Hubs' sister, someone I always thought was the most laid back person on earth, recently told me that she can't sit still when her children travel (like me.) So I have to conclude that it's him.

I don't know ... is it better to be like that? Or is it just weird?

WATCHING TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #1835
SUMMER BOOK #7: Salt by Mark Kurlansky

Waiting for My Turn

I am hungry, man, but K is in the kitchen cooking herself an actual meal, and our kitchen does not support two independent meals being prepared at once. Seeing her start the W8 Watching is a little like a window into what I must have been like when I started. My entry into it now is a whole other thing, since I can't do anything seriously until my tummy calms completely down. Today was a pretty good day, so tomorrow I'm going to try taking the vitamins again. If that's good, I'll put the calcium pills back after a few days. I won't be trying any new foods until next weekend at the soonest.

I had an extremely quiet day today, which was fine by me, because my recent tummy travails have worn me out a bit. We did some food shopping, I watched TV -- lots of Gene Kelly on today, yum -- and I read. That's my outlook for tonight, too.

R is out of Mexico, currently holding over in Charlotte until her flight home later this evening. I can stop worrying about kidnappers now.

WATCHING AN AMERICAN IN PARIS :: ENTRY #1834
SUMMER BOOK #6: My Trip Down the Pink Carpet by Leslie Jordan

It Must be Contagious

I think my husband is deaf. I think so because I know that I am, and I have the TV in the family room turned up pretty loud so that I can hear it, and when he's working in the kitchen right next door, he puts on the TV and it drowns out everything for rooms around. I'm looking at Ross and Rachel, and I'm hearing Jack McCoy talk about some grisly murder.

My tummy is not so settled again, and I'm having a hot flash on top of that. But I'm smiling!

K and I went to a W8 Watchers meeting today. Although I did it online for a good while, I've never been to a meeting before. I think if I weren't taking the nice happy pills, I would have found the speaker disturbingly perky, but it was okay. K did suggest though that if we both want to go to meetings that we not go together as a rule, because she observed that in any combination, she, her sister and I tend to play off each other and become very cynical. A pretty good observation. I'll see how it goes anyway. It does combine pretty well with what I learned from the nutritionist last week. Now if I could only figure out why my tummy still hurts, I'd have it all figured out.

We had a deluge here a little while ago, with tornado warnings. (This is not generally a tornado part of the country.) The Sibs in the next town over saw terrible winds, but we didn't have that, only some very serious rain.

I'm going to make a couple of phone calls and then collapse. See you tomorrow.

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1833
SUMMER BOOK #6: Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert

And a Couple of Memes

Wow, feeling much, much better after a couple of icky tummy days. And just when I was letting go of the whole grandchild thing, I ran into someone today, a former student, a former member of my scout troop, her mother and I were preggo together, so she's R's age, and she had her second adorable little baby with her, this one nine weeks old. But knowing her, it made me remember why it was important to her to have children right away, even after a fabulous college education and being a wonderful inner-city elementary teacher. To each his own, and I guess it really is way too early for mine. Moving on.

Anyway, I've latched onto two memes today, so let's see how that goes. The first one is from Poolagirl.

What is your name?




What is your favorite food?



Which school did you attend?



and



What is your favorite color?



Who is your favorite celebrity?



What is your favorite beverage?



What is your ideal holiday adventure?



What did you want to be when you were growing up?



What is your favorite dessert?



What do you value most in life?



What one word describes you?



What is the name of your journal?





And this one from Miz Robyn:

Inquiring minds want to know, every day do you…

1. Shower? Morning or night? Morning. I need to get up and get into the shower before I think about it, or I'll put it off. If I shower at night, it wakes me up and I can't fall asleep.

2. Wash your hair? In the summer, I wash my hair every other day, which I think is healthier for me, but during the school year I have to wash it every day in order to look human.

3. Shave? Not as often as I used to, maybe every two weeks? My grandmother once famously said "I shaved under my arms once, and it never grew back!" Yeah, well, she was from the old country and shaved for the first time when she was maybe 65 -- my mother forced her to, if she was going to wear sleeveless -- and I guess it didn't grow back. That whole issue seems to be fading along with the estrogen.

4. Wear make-up? (If yes, what does that include?) Every day when I go to work, but I don't always bother if I'm not going anywhere. I am a Bare Escentuals addict, soup to nuts.

5. Spend a lot of time doing your hair? Five to ten minutes, if that. I would spend more time if it would improve the outcome, but I'm just not gifted that way.

6. Do you wear perfume? If so, what kind? NEVER! NEVER!!! I am allergic to most perfumes; I wish nobody would wear them ever, ever, ever!

7. Other than wedding/engagement rings, what jewelry do you wear? I don't wear my engagement ring daily because it's a little fragile and it doesn't go with any wedding band I have, really. I wear a wedding band, a Mickey Mouse watch, diamond stud earrings, and a lovely diamond ring/circle thing around my neck that the Hubs gave me for last year's 30th anniversary.


WATCHING L/O :: ENTRY #1832
SUMMER BOOK #6: Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert

Things Change. Or Not.

The empress pointed out in her comment that my children are too young for me to be a grandma.

As we know, things change, times change. K is 24, R is 27. When I was 24, I got married, and it seemed like we were doing that later than many of our friends, who had gotten married at 22, right out of college. When I was 27, married three years, I was pregnant with R. I had two friends pregnant at the same time; one of them was 32 and the other was 37.

I didn't think my time line was normal because even then, I knew there was no such thing as a normal time line. But let's see.

My sister got married (first time) right out of college, so she was 22. I believe that Eldest Nephew was born when she was 26, which seemed somehow early at the time, although looking back, I don't know why. She was 29 when the twins were born.

My mother was 23 when she got married, in 1943. But my father was overseas for years after that and then there was a stillbirth; their firstborn, the Sibs, came in 1948, when Shirl was 28. She was 32 when I was born; I was 31 when K was born.

I guess we were all pretty close after all, and our kids are not really lagging behind. Wonderful Niece is 30 and not so interested in being pregnant. Her brother is getting married in September, and we're guessing there will be a baby there within a year or two. As for eldest nephew, it would take real courage for someone to take him on as a husband and father, although he would be a fabulous father. But he's a unique experience, what can I say?

Anyway, the thing is, I understand that my children are nowhere near ready to produce offspring. I'm just saying that I'm ready to have some grandchildren. Not that it is in any remotely connected to my readiness. I'm just saying.

WATCHING THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1831
SUMMER BOOK #6: Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert

The Continuing Saga

Turns out that the registration that looked current to me yesterday turned out to be a 6 instead of an 8 in the clear light of today, therefore, it was two years' ago registration and not this year's. I called somewhere to see if I could renew it even though it's not my car -- I can't -- and found out that it was renewed, the card just isn't in the car. At which point, I'm done.

I did very little today, which was fine. After the therapist, I went to the cleaners even though it isn't Saturday and had the pants I bought for the wedding pinned and left them there to be shortened. Now, sewing happens to be one of those few domestic tasks I have mastered, but not these pants; they're chiffon and lined, so it's really like four pant legs two of which will show every stitch, and I know my limits.

(Hey, maybe I'll get back to sewing when I retire. It certainly has occurred to me that I will happily make every grandchild's Halloween costume, as I made my own kids'. Not that there are grandchildren yet, or anywhere on the horizon. But hope spring eternal, you know.)

I have no other news. As annoying as the whole car thing has been, that kid has been true to her word and had either called or texted every day since she's been away. Truth be told, I would not have been so good to my mother. Oh, maybe I would have by the time I was R's age, which is 27, but for sure not at 22 or 23. I can just hear me: "Ma! I'm not a little kid! I am not calling you every day!" Of course, technology was different then. Who knows, maybe with today's cellphones, I would have called every day when I was in England and Wales at 21. Looking back at the time I was stuck on campus in a blizzard, I wish I had had a cellphone to let my parents know I was okay, because I knew how terribly worried they were, even then.

Okay, I'm giving the Sibs a quick call and then looking through my new book on digestion, which th4e nutritionist recommended and which came today. Yum.

WATCHING TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #1830
SUMMER BOOK #5: Better Digestion by The American Dietetic Association

I Slaved Over a Hot Stove!

For at least an hour and a half!

Yes, it's true; I prepared animal flesh, using heat and various other ingredients. I also prepared a few vegetables, those among the few I can eat. Everything is neatly packed up and frozen and marked so that I can pull out all the parts of a meal I need, and even not eat the same thing every day.

Then we ordered pizza for dinner. It's possible that I don't have this exactly down pat yet.

(When I was a kid, my mother would ask me every single day what I wanted for dinner the next day. I absolutely hated this; why was it my job to decide what dinner would be? As a result, I now give dinner minimal thought. Usually around 5:00, K or I will say to each other, What do you feel like eating tonight? I am the anti-Shirl. And she probably asked me because I was a picky eater, and she preferred to make something that I would actually eat.)

When I talked to R last night, she insisted that the registration was in the car, so I looked again this morning, and it was. It was not in the little registration holder, where it was supposed to be; she had just shoved it under the pile of everything else in her glove compartment, still in the envelope it came in. So I'm taking it in tomorrow. That'll be one less thing to worry about. And I even remembered to register my car and the Hubs' online today, and took care of K's tuition bill. I am so accomplished today!

And now I'm going to collapse, thank you, and either start a new book or play solitaire for hours and hours. It could go either way.

WATCHING PLEASE DON'T EAT THE DAISIES :: ENTRY #1829
SUMMER BOOK #5: Big Russ and Me by Tim Russert

Details, Details

So, R being away on vacation makes this a good time to get all our cars serviced, because if we borrow hers, then we have a spare to rotate among the three of us, depending on whose car is in the shop which day.

It all sounds so simple.

After I made these arrangements, I remembered hearing her say that her car had been due for inspection in June, so the night before she left, I told her she'd better bring me back a nice present from Mexico, since I was clearly going to have to take her car for inspection the first day I had it. She doesn't take the car to work, and only really drives around at night or on weekends, so she's less likely to be noticed than I am, driving around in the daylight. (Our cars have colored windshield stickers that tell when they have to be inspected next.) I was driving the car back here from her place a few hours ago and I suddenly noticed that her sticker -- I could only see it from the back -- is green. I don't think the sticker in my car is green. When I got home, I got out and looked at her sticker from the front. Yes indeed, it was due for inspection in June. June 2007.

Oy. This is not a simple hours-at-the-inspection-station thing. That would certainly involve some sort of fine. This is more like a take-the-car-to-a-private-inspection-facility thing. I looked them up, I made a list, I'll call in the morning.

Except.

Just for the hell of it, I went out to check the car. The current registration is not there. It's either in her wallet -- in Mexico -- or it was never renewed. Either way, the whole project is now OUT OF MY HANDS. HA! (I just hope that after a year+ of escaping detection, I don't get caught with a ticket in the next few days. (Talk about your irony.) I'll try to stay local and limit my activities, I guess.

I have some cooking on tap for tomorrow, which is to say that I actually purchased some dead animal product today. (Chicken.) I'm working on improving my breakfast and lunch, but on days we don't go out for dinner, there's just nothing here to eat. (I just had a tuna sandwich.)

And that's me for today. It's always something.


WATCHING PLEASE DON'T EAT THE DAISIES :: ENTRY #1828
SUMMER BOOK #4: Standing in the Rainbow by Fannie Flagg

I Should Have Something to Say ... Or Eat

I finally finished a book, go me, the Bill Bryson Shakespeare book, which I enjoyed, because I'm into Shakespeare and I like Bryson's writing, so why not? I'm back reading on the device, although now it's the iPhone, and I like it again, but Faulkner has not been released as ebooks yet, so I'm putting that off for awhile. (Yes, I have a copy of the book right here. Leave me alone.)

My visit to the nutritionist went well, I think. My 11:30 appointment started only a moment or two late, and was supposed to be an hour long, but I looked at my watch when I left and it was 1:15. She found me amusing *blush* and we just kept on talking. She was nicely prepared with all kinds of Crohn's information on hand, and went over a booklet with me to help me see that yes, there is stuff that I can still eat. She was even familiar with the bento concept. So, I have some ideas to try and I need to keep a food/symptom diary and go back in three weeks.

I have not yet reached The Other Chai, whose father was supposed to have his hip replaced this week. I'm sure that all is well, though, and she is either visiting him in the hospital or rehab, or she is at the soulless mercy of her mother. Her father, at 80, still golfs and bowls, is tall and dignified, and carries himself with the air of someone who played football for Princeton years ago. (He was a penniless, fatherless Navy recruit from the Bronx with fantastic potential, and the USA put him into a special program to train officers at Ivy League colleges. And by the time he got out, the war was over. Good deal for him, eh?) Anyway, a lovely man; I hope he's well and I'm sure he is. His wife is just like Marie Barone from Everybody Loves Raymond, but not as easy to get along with. I'll try the O.C. later on this evening.

Once again today, I was toodling along in the car, on my way to the nutritionist, I think, and musing about how incredible it is just to feel okay. (I was also keeping an eye on the speedometer.) It is remarkable to me that I have long stretches of the day when nothing hurts, and that this makes me feel happy. (I mean, I know it would make anyone feel happy. It's just unfamiliar to me, and for a long time. Not that other things don't make me happy ... okay, whatever.) I could still take a nice long nap every day, but I didn't take one today at all. And I'm starting to wake up earlier, too.

Anyway, I don't know what to eat for dinner, I have to go see. K and I went out and picked up a few things before, and when I opened the back of the car to get the bags out, one of the bags fell over, and of course, it was the bag with the dozen eggs on top, so they were all over the driveway. Ick. And now, no eggs until tomorrow. I have to go over the stuff I got this morning and make a serious shopping list for Sunday. And start to *shudder* cook more. Or any.

Ah well.

WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1827
SUMMER BOOK #4: Standing in the Rainbow by Fannie Flagg

Thursdays with the Sibs

This was nice, another Thursday out to lunch with the Sibs, a little shopping, a little computer session. I got fancy shmancy pants to wear to the wedding, so I'm all set. I have to dig the shoes out of my closet, but I'm pretty sure I have something I can wear.

To clarify, when the P.A. who was treating me said to call for the MRI results, I assumed he would call me back when he was free. I didn't think the receptionist would tell me anything, although that did happen to me once, very weirdly, which I won't go into at the moment. I also think that, given my history, I did not over-react to that whole thing. Now of course, the receptionist shouldn't be expected to know my medical history. But she should treat everyone as if they have one, if you know what I mean. I will certainly say something to the doctor on Wednesday.

I took a nap this afternoon for something like two and half hours, which was strange. During that time, K finished the take home final for her summer course and emailed it in, so now she's free until September, too.

Tomorrow, the nutritionist. I also got my new glasses today, which I'm going to have to take to the doctor to check, because they're not quite right and I don't know if it's the glasses or the prescription. Yet another thing to put on my list.

Anybody planning to watch the Olympics? It has totally lost its appeal for me, especially this year, and I adored it when I was a kid.

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1826
SUMMER BOOK #3: Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson

The Doctors Are Trying to Kill Me

Okay, so I called the orthopedist's office yesterday to get the results of the MRI, as I was told to, and they didn't call back until today. While I was out this morning (having yet another mole or something removed), they called and left a message that said I had to call and make an appointment with the doctor to get the results.

WTF???

I don't know about you, but when I am told by the physician's assistant who's been treating me to call for the results, and instead, I get no results but instructions to make an appointment with the actual doctor, well, then I get scared.

I have been so much better in recent weeks about not letting my fear get the better of me, but this time, I really felt justified. I was scared, I was shaking, as I called them. Of course, I got the dippy receptionist, who was going to give me an appointment next week or next month, and I said Look. Either I see the doctor this afternoon, or someone gets on the phone right now and tells me I don't have cancer. She said, Hold on a minute, and puts the music back on.

Really, what is wrong with people in doctors' offices? Have they no understanding that these are actual people they're talking to, and not just names on a piece of paper?

She came back, and said it was their policy not to give results over the phone. I said, I'll be there in five minutes and someone better talk to me. She said, Why would you even think of cancer? We're not oncologists, you know.

Yes. I know. It's my guess that people are most often diagnosed with cancer by other doctors, trying to find out why they have this pain or that, and then get sent to oncologists. I mean, people don't say, oh, I have a stomach ache; I'd better go to an oncologist and see if I have cancer. They go to their internists who do this test and that and finally say, I think I need to refer you to ....

The upshot was that she got permission from a doctor to give me the results over the phone. I have tendonitis of the rotator cuff -- Yes, I KNOW THAT -- and a tear. That's it? She couldn't just freaking tell me that?

So now I'm going to see the doctor next week. I'm still fairly committed to no surgery, but I'll have to hear what he says. Anyway, totally no big deal, and no reason for that bimbo not to just tell me. It's not exactly a state secret.

I went to Loehmann's this afternoon and found something to wear to the wedding, although I need to get dressy pants to go with it. If it passes my sister's inspection tomorrow, I'll post a picture.

WATCHING FRIENDS :: ENTRY #1825
SUMMER BOOK #3: Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson

Bleah

It's been a loooong day.

First, let me say that I am not in prison, or even going to prison. Thanks to the magical medicine I am now taking, I did not rise up and start to kill people in the "courtroom" while I waited two freaking hours for the judge to show up. I basically sat still for most of that time and did nothing. We weren't allowed even to read. This is not easy for me.

First part of the story: the town hall in the town I got the speeding ticket is under renovation, so they've relocated all municipal services to an office strip mall behind CVS. (Not kidding here.) The "courtroom" was the size of a large classroom and was kind of makeshift. Then it turned out that the judge was unavailable, and they brought in a ringer, so to speak, from the next town over. (He was very nice, btw.) But it was supposed to start at 4:00, so I got there at 3:30, of course. The judge got there at 5:15. By this time, I could see that the prosecutor and various police officers were bringing people one at a time into a side room, and that they were calling them in the order they were listed on the court's calendar, and I already knew I was on the second to last page. Hmmm. Guess who had neglected to eat lunch or take her midday meds? Hmm. So I spoke to the clerk and told her I had medical issues and would need to eat before this was over, which looked like it was going to be 8:00 or later, and I got called in for the next plea bargain. They dropped the charge from 51 in a 25 mph zone to 39, which cut the points from 5 to 2 and the fine from $250 to $95. It only took another 45 minutes to get to the judge, who said all the required things and then I got to go and pay and GO HOME. And I stopped at Subway and got a sandwich to eat the second I walked through the door.

So that business is behind me now, too. I actually did go out and buy cheap shoes to wear to court, and I wore nice black slacks and the top I bought to wear to my nephew's couples shower last month, and in truth, I was the best dressed person there. (And I don't get to say that often!) There were women there in sweats and tees and flip-flops, and I mean women my age. Men in shorts. A man sitting behind me, a white-bearded man, kept his baseball cap on until someone told him to take it off. Come on! Men aren't even supposed to wear caps in the presence of the flag, let alone in court!

In other news, R is going to Mexico tomorrow and I'm fine, really, I'm fine, no problems here, I'm fine. (Just kidding.) She's already promised me that she won't get kidnapped, so what else is there to worry about?

The big news of the day today, actually, was an email from the SCM telling me that he has put in his papers, and is retiring as of February 1! Knock me ovah with a feathah! I thought he had the same time to go as I have, but it turns out he's got a lot more money than I have, and he bought a few years into the pension system, which I guess people can do, although I don't understand any of that. It's also possible that he doesn't understand it either and has made a big mistake, which he will have to take back. I may have mentioned before, the holy grail of retirement for teachers in New Jersey is that if you have at least 25 years in the system and are at least 55 years old, you retire with not only your full pension, but medical benefits for life. (Which supplements your Medicare once you start receiving that.) The SCM does not have 25 years in New Jersey, he has ... 16, but he was able to buy credit for his time in New York and I guess, a few years more. So he can get his full pension -- he's 62 -- but I don't think medical. Maybe he's got that from his wife, I don't know. I have rarely met someone who willingly retires before that medical benefit kicks in. I guess I'll find out in September.

Will they replace him? We shall see. I have two former students, both with actual library school degrees, that I'll need to contact if the opening gets posted. I have another former student with a Master's degree in Media who would LOVE to get into my school, so I hope I can keep it hidden from her. Aside from having the wrong background, she would drive me freaking crazy all day, which means a lot when you consider what I've already been working with for 16 years. Very fond of the other two, however.

On to the dermatologist tomorrow, who will no doubt point to some spot I can't ever see no matter how many mirrors I use, and why would I want to, and say "Hmmm .. how long have you had that?"

WATCHING FUTURAMA :: ENTRY #1824
SUMMER BOOK #3: Shakespeare: The World as Stage by Bill Bryson

Visiting the Past

First on the agenda today was waiting for that phone call from my mother's best friend, which came a little before 10:30. I met her and her daughter at my parents' cemetery. We spent about 45 minutes together, some of that at the grave, some just standing in the parking lot.

It really was wonderful for me to see them, although it would have been a completely different experience for my sister. Doris is still totally hyper, remarkable for her age, which is 80 in October. She looks fabulous. (I took some pictures with her camera, which I may post once she sends them to me.) She drove here from Long Island. I did totally get the impression, though, that her daughter limits the amount of time she spends with her mother and has spent way too much with her recently. Doris is very hard to take in anything but small doses. But this was a small dose for me today, and it was great. We remembered, we talked about my parents, all kinds of things.

My appointment with the cardiologist was at 12:30, but I didn't actually see the doctor until about 2:15. Now, this is total proof that either the anti-depressants are helping me or that I have evolved, because this is the kind of thing that always pushes me over the edge. This time, not only was I accepting of it -- I didn't want to reschedule and have to go back -- but my blood pressure was even on the low side when someone finally came in and took it. When the doctor came in, he asked why I was there, and I said Uh ... your office called and said I needed an annual follow up? I certainly am having no cardiac complaints. Anyway, he took an EKG and gave me a copy, and said I should carry it with me in case I ever need to show that the abnormality in it is an old one -- okay -- and he also said that unless I want to lose weight to feel better, which I told him I did, there's no cardiac need for me to lose weight. I love when doctors tell me that! But less weight would be easier on my feet and back, not that I know if I can even lose anything.

About a half hour ago, K's college roommate dropped in, on her way driving from Maine to San Francisco. Originally, K was going to go with her from this point onto Ohio, where their third former roommate is, but the little dear is somewhat disorganized, and showed up today, and K's final in her summer course is tomorrow. Whatever, they'll see what they can work out. So the kid may be gone for the rest of the week, and R is going to Mexico tomorrow for ten days, I think. Why do they always end up doing these things at the same time?

And I have court tomorrow afternoon for my speeding ticket. I'll let you know how that goes, too.


WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS :: ENTRY #1823
SUMMER BOOK #3: As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

Festina Lente

This was a a favorite of my high school Latin teacher, the phrase "festina lente", and she applied it to the class from time to time. It means "to make haste slowly." In other words, I seem to making progress, but I'm sure not in a hurry about it.

It only took me a month to read less than a hundred pages and finally give up on The Yiddish Policeman's Union. I don't know if Faulkner is going to be any easier, but I would like to read another book or two before the summer is over, and I wasn't getting anywhere with that one.

I also decided today to finally get a handle on what schoolwork I need to do before September, all of it involving the library's website, and so now I have a plan for that. I thought I would have to go into school to use my computer there because I don't have FrontPage at home, but with a little creative thinking, I realized that I can log in remotely and do what I need on my school computer from home. This is good, because it's really only about five minutes of work -- changing three URL's in links to online reference sources that have been changed -- and really, when was I going to drag myself in to do that? My other school project is a great big one, I can do it from home, and if I don't finish by September, I'll finish it in school. I have many pages -- I'd guess 25 -- that provide links to various websites, all broken down by subject category. For example, I have a page called "Math" and it links to several math-related websites. Some pages have very few links, like math, and some, like science, have A Lot. Anyway, I'm transferring them all over to a site called PortaPortal, where all the subjects will be listed on one page and then have dropdown menus, more or less, to the actual website links. So that's a lot of work. And I've got a month.

I'm also keeping a two day food log, which I need to bring when I go to the nutritionist on Friday. So far, I don't think I'm eating anything weird, but I'm not eating anything good, either. I already have a list of my questions and concerns.

I won't know until tomorrow if I'm actually meeting those old friends. I wish I didn't have the doctor's appointment in the middle of the day, because then I could have made plans. It's not even a big deal appointment, just the annual follow-up with the cardiologist, and its not like I'm having any problems, but I made the appointment months ago and it's too late to change now. I'll see what happens.

WATCHING L/O: SVU :: ENTRY #1822
SUMMER BOOK #3: As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

Not My Story

So. I did virtually nothing today, couldn't motivate myself to do a thing. R's power went out last night, so I spent most of the day getting phone calls from her about what she should do, and then, once all the necessary people had been called, getting occasional updates from her. (It's back now.) We had an epic thunderstorm this morning, which I think set the tone for the day. That kind of storm isn't common in the morning, I think. Maybe.

But I got this other phone call this morning from, of all unexpected people, my mother's best friend. I think I've written about her before; she defies conventional description. I think if they tested her, they would find that hey, you can diagnose an 80 year old with ADHD. She has always been a hyperactive adult, and based on the phone call, she's not slowing down any.

I could write volumes on this character and the role she played in my young life, and in my sister's, but for now, the thing is that she's coming to New Jersey on Monday. (She's lived on Long Island for the last ... ooh, maybe 35 years. For those out of the tri-state area, I'm west of New York City and Long Island is east of it.) She's coming for two reasons. One is that she's visiting the graves of her husband (who died about two years ago) and her parents, and the cemetery is not that far from where I live. She also figured that hey, she doesn't get to New Jersey often, so she arranged to have lunch with my OldFriend's mother, who lives in assisted living in Edgewater, which I've mentioned, which is right along the New Jersey side of the Hudson River, opposite New York City.

So she figured, call little me and see if I can meet them somewhere! In fact, if it works around my doctor's appointment, I will meet them -- her daughter is coming, too -- at the cemetery where my parents are. Doris is a cemetery-goer; when I was a kid, and my mother and Doris did everything, every errand and every shopping trip, together, we went to the cemetery once a year. At that time, we went because Doris' father and my mother's grandmother were there, but Doris' family plot has filled up some since then.

At one time, we lived down the street from each other, and OldFriend's family lived right across from me, so that's how the old ladies -- both named Doris, btw -- know each other. I don't know if I'm in on the lunch, although I'm sure I can join them without a problem. My sister asked me why I would subject myself to the two of them, as they are both extremely demanding personalities, but really, they were both part of my life and I'm sure this is the last time I'll see either one of them. And the daughter who's coming with Long Island Doris is really one of my oldest, oldest friends; I remember seeing her being pushed in a baby carriage. (I'm two and a half years older than she is.) I like her, I'd like to see her.

Anyway, I must amuse you with a tale that Doris told me on the phone this morning. She said she decided to go to Israel one more time, and daughter and her husband went along. (Their children are grown.) Now, Doris feels a very strong Jewish connection but she was raised less religiously even than I was, if that's possible, and by immigrant Jewish parents who were from England, of all places, so she doesn't even have a Yiddish connection. But she loves Israel, had been there five times with her husband over the years. So she says, they went with a group last week, and stayed at the biggest hotel in Jerusalem, which is the King David Hotel.

Saturday, she says, nothing is open in Israel and everything is deserted, because it's the Sabbath, so her son-in-law figured hey, didn't matter to him -- also not religious -- and the hotel gym would be empty, so he went down to work out. There was only one other person working out in the hotel gym: Barack Obama! (With his entourage standing by.) So Jeff went over and said hello, shook his hand, wished him well, etc. And then later in the day, Doris herself saw him in a corridor, also said hello, shook his hand. How weird is that?

So that's my Saturday. R has power, thank you very much, and I think I will try to read more of that damn book. I may have to move on to Faulkner sooner than expected.

WATCHING WILL & GRACE :: ENTRY #1821
SUMMER BOOK #3: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

To Clarify:

I checked on the Peter Pan stuff, and it was on TV several times, but not always the same version. The actual original cast was only telecast once, in 1954, so I certainly don't remember that, but it was shown again a few years later with the almost-original cast, which is to say, they replaced the children, but everyone else was original. This is the one I remember, which was shown twice; a few years later they did it again, again only replacing the children. I'm sure I saw that whenever it was on, too, but what I remember is the second one, which I always thought did have the original children in it, but it didn't.

Well, I'm glad I cleared that up.

Today was the foot doctor and the MRI. I think I'm done with the foot doctor, since I am never taking time off from school again for that, and he only works Friday mornings and said I should come back in six weeks. Don't hold your breath. The MRI was fine, only twenty minutes, I only had to go about halfway in, so if I opened my eyes, I could still see out into the room, pretty much. No big deal. I'll get the results on Monday, and I'm not going to do anything about that either.

I have many, many appointments next week, including, at last, a nutritionist on Friday. And court on Tuesday for my traffic ticket. Boo court.

I got up very early for summer this morning, 6:30, and I am soooo tired now. I've been much better with the tired this summer since my body has fallen into its natural sleeping pattern. Sadly for me, this pattern involved falling asleep between midnight and one and waking up around eight. I like it a real lot, but I doubt my employers are going to let me keep it up, considering that first period starts at 7:55 and I'm kinds supposed to be there by then. Hmm. Something else to look forward to in retirement. So anyway, I'm going to go relax on the couch now.


WATCHING FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #1820
SUMMER BOOK #3: The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon