It's a Mystery

One of my favorite lines from filmdom is in Shakespeare in Love. The theatre owner (played by Geoffrey Rush) is asked several times how something or other is going to work out, and he says he doesn't know. It just will. How? "It's a mystery."

Seriously, that ought to be my next tattoo. (I am not planning to get another tattoo.) Things have been a little tight around here, what with the Hubs going into private practice perfectly timed to coincide with the economy falling apart, and I thought that today was going to be the day, finally, when I did cry while paying bills, but somehow, it worked out. How? It's a mystery. All I know is, it made me happy enough to take the kid out to IHOP for dinner. (But not the Hubs, since there is virtually nothing there he can eat. Make that absolutely nothing.) Anyway, that makes it a two-smiley-face day for me.

(In the summer of 1929, my father's father, who had worked as a furniture salesman for his uncle for more than ten years, decided to strike out on his own. He was a good salesman and had a lot of contacts. But then, of course, in October, the stock market crashed and contacts or not, he had no business, no nothing. A tough six months or so later, his uncle had a sudden stroke and managed to get the message to his teenage son that they had to get Louie -- grandpa -- back in to run the store, even though they hadn't spoken since he'd left. Voila, the uncle lived, and Louie kept the business going strong, since they dealt in buying and selling used furniture, mostly, and my father grew up comfortably middle class during the Depression. I digress, I know, but I keep thinking of this family story a lot the last few months, as you can imagine.)

As far as the trip goes, the current plan is to go to Charleston, S.C. in late September, when I have a day off work for Yom Kippur, so, a three day weekend. This is still hurricane season, however, so the plan needs work. But Chicago is out. The flaky cousin only wants to "sit and watch the water", according to her sister, so that means an ocean, I guess; she could sit and watch a lake in Chicago. And she wants to go someplace warm. Her sister, the "normal" cousin, wants to go in late June, where, let's get real, everyplace is warm. In fact, anyplace we'd want to go in late June is either hotter than hell, or already booked solid (New England, for example.)

Oy, mishpochah.



waiting for FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2017
READING: Bel Canto by Ann Patchett

Beat

It's been a long day, and I'm beat. I couldn't even sit up at my desk anymore, so this is coming from the phone.

R is all moved, out and in. We cleaned out the apartment and she turned in her keys. Somehow, I drove to and from her new place twice today, about the same as a one-way trip from here to D.C., or, four hours in the car, just broken up into four one-hour trips.

The plot thickens on this trip with my cousins. Everybody is telling me what they want to do, and thanking me for planning it, but what I might want to do isn't a consideration. (At this point, what I most want to do is stay home. )

Details tomorrow, perhaps.

Longest Week Ever

It was the longest week ever. By Friday, I was ready to drop. But I have been sleeping better, and slept even until 7:30 today! Wow.

R has officially moved, so that's all over, although I'm taking the day Monday to help her out with some last details, like the final cleaning on the old apartment, and like that. But all the furniture is where it's supposed to be, so that's done.

K has been having some drama with student teaching, and sadly is not having the best experience there, but all experience is a teacher, so she's learning something, even if it's what kind of teacher she wants not to be. In a bit of a cheering up effort this afternoon, she and I went to see Monsters vs. Aliens, which we enjoyed. Just going to the movies is a rare occurrence for me, so I enjoyed the whole thing.

And now I am going to put my aching neck down on a pillow and probably read some. Lots of aches and pains lately. It's because I'm OLD.


waiting for FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2015
READING: Night by Elie Wiesel

Some Things Never Change

I was just on the phone with my sister, which happens pretty much every night, but this time we talked for a good 45 minutes, remembering places we used to go on vacation when we were little, things about our grandparents and parents, and ... farts.

Yes, folks, she is 60 and I am 56 and talking about farting made us both laugh until we cried. Good times, good times.

I finally slept somewhat like a human being last night, but I'll need a few more days of that to catch up, I think, since I'm still beat. Even so, I think I can stay up for Lost. I've totally given up on bringing my lunch this week (I can buy it in the cafeteria, but it's about what you would expect), although I do still have to take out some clothes for tomorrow.

Oh, I did get to talk to my flaky cousin last night, and she pointed out that she has no income -- a long story -- so whatever trip we take, it needs to be economical. (Her sister is paying for her trip, I'm sure.) Anyway. I think I'm going to look for a two-night stay in Chicago. I've heard that it's a great city, we'd all love the museum, and I don't think any of us have ever been there. All I need is a package with a good airfare, and we're in.

I was going somewhere else here, but I've lost track of it. Is it still Wednesday? I've been thinking all day that it was Thursday.



waiting for LOST :: ENTRY #2014
READING: Fool by Christopher Moore

Decisions

I've been a little sporadic lately with my updates, and I don't think I wrote that my second aunt did indeed pass away last week, on Wednesday. She was really a very sweet lady; she was clear of mind to the end, but tortured by arthritis and osteoporosis, and the emphysema that can accompany that. (She was a non-smoker; the emphysema came from her ribs closing in on her lungs.)

There was no actual funeral, only a graveside service in California, which my cousins held privately. My aunt had said some time ago that our tribute to her should be a trip taken together by my sister and me, and her two daughters, our first cousins. I've said before that the Sibs and I are super close to one of these cousins and not so much with the other, but she too is very sweet, although flaky, and the loss of her mother will be hardest on her.

So guess who gets to plan the trip?

We've narrowed it down to a spa trip, you know, a resort we can all go to and relax and get massages and do yoga and stuff. We will be coming from New Jersey (the Sibs and I) and Colorado and Oregon (the other two), so I'm looking for a reasonable destination that isn't Kansas or Nebraska, or something else that is specifically in the middle. I'm thinking Arizona, which my sister says sounds good; she also would like to go in August. Something about that doesn't sound right to me.

I did find a beautiful place online; it has locations in Arizona, Miami, and Massachusetts (in the Berkshires.) It was looking better and better until I finally got to what it costs: a four day package is about $3000.

WTF? And, it bears repeating, WTF?

This is waaaaaaaay beyond the means of any of us, not surprisingly. I was thinking that, including airfare, I could eke out about $1000 as a tribute to my aunt. Now I have no idea where to look.

I may drift back to one of my original thoughts and see if there's a hotel in Chicago with a spa facility and we can go to museums there and stuff. When this was first mentioned a few years ago, I thought of a pilgrimage to the Mall of America, but that's just more money spent. Of course, we considered Disney World, which I thought would be expensive, but I already know I can do Disney for a thousand, so it's not looking so bad anymore.

Of course, there's always Wildwood on the Jersey shore, although that is a schlep for the other two.

I'm reaching for ideas. I've heard that Arkansas is beautiful, actually, but I don't know anything about it or where to go. Maybe there's something in central Canada that would be nice in the summer. (Ooh, maybe Quebec. I'll check that next.)

I'm open. Here's what's out: anything on either coast, since it would be too long a flight and too expensive for at least someone. Colorado, since one of us already lives there. Utah, because I don't want to go to Utah.

Go.


THE GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2013
READING: Fool by Christopher Moore

Ironic

I reeeaally, reeeaally want to put on my jammies and climb under the covers, but it's light out, and I can't quite bring myself to do it yet. The ironic part is that I remember clear as a bell those summer evenings when Shirl would pack my into my little seersucker jammies and force me to get into bed even though it was light outside and I could still hear all my friends playing out there. And I wonder where the insomnia came from. (And those seersucker jammies were the suck, btw. I've always been very sensitive to the texture and fit of the clothes I wear; why would she think I could sleep in that scratchy, stiff seersucker?)

The news of the day actually is that I kept myself awake all day at work despite the hour of sleep I got last night. The key, apparently, is to be busy. I was very busy all day and kept myself that way, since the big fear was that I would hit a lull and nod off. I even managed a quick trip to Barnes and Noble after school to get some books that a teacher cleverly put on a required reading list but neglected to mention to me ahead of time.

I want spring. I saw buds on the trees at the ILS' yesterday (about an hour and a half south), but we don't have any yet, just the crocuses and such so far. No forsythia bursting yellow everywhere. And still damn cold in the mornings, although light now when I leave a little after 6:30. (I've become addicted to McDonald's coffee, and the drive-in window is the icing on the cake. Ooh. I could go for some cake.)

R is basically moved to the new place, except for the big furniture and a few random things, which are moving on Saturday. She brought the cat to the new place Friday, which I guess is the indicator of where she's living. I'm told that my grandcat is very happy in her new location, more rooms to explore, and happy to be with her people there.

It may be dark enough by 7:30 for me to respectably call it bedtime. One can only hope.


FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2013
READING: Fool by Christopher Moore

Back From the South

We're home from our trip down the Parkway to celebrate the MIL's birthday. Not a bad day altogether, other than the tired from last night's non-sleep. I did manage to get a picture of R and the Gentleman Friend, at last, which I cannot show you because if I did and she ever found out she would totally disown me. However, I can show you this one:



I had to share this with you, and being non-computer literate, she will never know. This is the MIL. Oh, did I mention that this was her 80th birthday? That you are looking at a picture of a woman who turned 80 yesterday? Don't we all hope we look like this at 80?

Anyway, that was the day. I had some excellent teacher-talk over dessert with K and my niece who is K's age and a second-year teacher. The GF was most at ease and pleasant with everyone, and immediately got to see who the kooks are on this side of the family.

And ... lunch made, clothes out, sleep time.



FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2012
READING: --- by ---

WEEKEND!

We had freaking SNOW this morning, nothing sticking, but a real heavy flurry that was not welcomed by anyone. It turned sunny later in the afternoon, and I think is supposed to go up to the fifties for the weekend. Looks like a good one. We will be spending Sunday on the Garden State Parkway and with the ILs, for the MIL's 80th birthday, which is actually tomorrow.

The retirees' dinner I went to last night was SO MUCH FUN. (I'm all about the capitals today, apparently.) I'm told it was one of their smaller dinners, only about fifteen people, but it was so wonderful to see happy, familiar faces who were happy to see me, and to get caught up. The drive there and back in the car with E, was, as expected, also wonderful. I can really, really tell her anything, and vice versa.

I got home around 10:30, which might as well have been three a.m. I did sleep after, but I was incredibly tired all day. I went for a pedi with the Sibs after school and almost fell asleep in the chair, and did sleep for two hours after I got home. Now I'm just hungry; my leftovers from last night, although delish, were not filling. I'm thinking about going out for ice cream, but I already have my slippers on, so I'm pretty much done for the day.

Not so much enjoying the book I'm reading, but it's a teen thing and I'm going to try to finish it. I've got a few more lined up, which I'd rather be reading. I may *sigh* try some Toni Morrison again. So far, I just don't see what all the fuss is about.



FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2011
READING: A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

An Ordinary Day

It was actually a beautiful day here today. It feels like winter is over, although we've had snow in April before, not to mention nor'easters in March, so anything can happen. But it's starting to smell like spring, and the crocuses are crocusing. No buds on the trees yet, though; that's a definite sign.

Even so, the only outside I've been today is to and from school. I didn't fall asleep last night until after two, and actually hit the snooze when the alarm went off at 5:50, which I rarely do. I was dragging all day today, but I want to watch Lost tonight, so I took a little nap when I got home. I have to be alert tomorrow, since I'm teaching something new to three classes. (I love these new baby teachers; they keep coming up with creative assignments and I have to keep up in order to show the kids how to do them.)

I'm also going out to dinner tomorrow night with an interesting crew; I probably won't get to post tomorrow. Here's the story. There is a group of 20 people or so -- it may be more -- who are all retired from the high school and who get together for dinner once a month. These are people I worked with for many, many years when I was the baby of the staff, so I'm much closer to them than to most of the people I work with now. Anyway, last month, my good friend The Chum went for the first time, and they were all excited to see her and asked her to bring me in the future, so I'm going. First of all, I'm delighted to be included. (The Chum and I will be the only people there under 60, and we're getting close.) I'm also amused because my other buddy The Other Chai goes sometimes, and she has made it very clear that they are breaking some kind of code just for her by inviting her even though she's not retired yet. Uh huh. So if she's there, she'll be surprised to see me. I'm really looking forward to it, as well as the half-hour each way drive with my dear, dear pal E, whom I almost never get to see. Just the two of us! So I'm expecting a lovely, lovely evening.

And now I will bid you good night.



FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2010
READING: A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray

The Recap

It was a somber day, but not a bad one. We hit almost no traffic on the ride out to Long Island, which is virtually unheard of, and even less on the way back. Unfortunately, my sister's husband was the driver, and I hope someone puts a bullet in my head before I have to be his passenger again for any length of time. He's not a wild driver, he's an oblivious one, and I was required to be the navigator today. Saying to someone "It's the next exit. It's this exit. It's right here," and having the driver make no reply and change no lanes is maddening. When a car in front of us slows down, my sister tells him to "Stop!", which she illustrates by grabbing her armrests in alarm.

As for the drive, I hadn't realized that it would be the same ride we took as kids all the times we visited this family: the George Washington Bridge to the Cross Bronx Expressway to the Cross Island Parkway to the Southern State Parkway. Along the way, we passed the exit that I know is the one to take to get to the cemetery where my own grandparents are buried, so now we can take that trip next summer without fear of getting lost.

Anyway, there was a graveside service with about a dozen people there, because most of the people are in Florida, where the actual funeral and mourning period (shiva) will take place.

In the meantime, I later spoke to my cousin in Colorado, who tells me that her mother -- my aunt by marriage -- is in hospice (in Oregon) and will probably not last the week. She doesn't want us to fly out for that graveside service; we'll get together at another time.

It's hard to mourn in the true sense, because both of these women are reaching a peace they have not known for a long time due to their illnesses. My aunt in Oregon is still clear of mind, but has been quite ill for some time. She's about 90, I think, and is ready to let go.

So, somber, as I say, but all right. Today is also R's 28th birthday, and a good day for her; I'm glad of that. As for me, my lunch is ready and my clothes are out for tomorrow, so that means it's nighty-night time for me.

(Oh, and yes, Mary: Edith was indeed a pistol. A good description of her.)



FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2009
READING: Paper Towns by John Green

End of An Era

My cousin Edith died yesterday. She was 92, and had Alzheimer's, so I know she's in a better place now, so to speak. Because her husband is buried near their longtime home in Long Island (as opposed to Florida, where they lived their later years), her burial will be tomorrow in Long Island, so the Sibs and I are going. The actual funeral will be in Florida, later in the week, but we will have been the only family in attendance at the burial, other than her son and daughter-in-law, who're flying up in the morning, or tonight.

Edith is the last person who knew my parents before they were married. She introduced my parents to each other, a story I've told before. My mother was her first cousin, and they were like sisters. My father was a third cousin on the other side whom she'd never met, but he needed a date for a fraternity weekend in New York, and she set it up for them.

She was often a difficult person, and always an opinionated one. But family is family; she was like an aunt to me. My best tribute to her is the final chapter in the book I wrote about my family some years ago for my kids and nephews and niece, so here it is (with a little editing), pictures included.

+++++

Chapter Sixteen

By now, you will have figured out, if you didn’t already know, that Edith is the lynchpin. Without Edith, there’s no story, no pictures, no me. No you.

When I draw my family tree, with my mother’s family on one side and my father’s family on the other, it only works out if I turn it into a tube, and make the two sides meet at Edith. This means that an awful lot of my relatives are relatives on both sides of my family. Even weirder than that, it means that my mother grew up calling a lot of people uncle and cousin even though she wasn’t related to them, but now she really is. It means that even though I always knew that Uncle Jake wasn’t my uncle at all, and that he was really an uncle of my cousins Peter and Richie (whom I always thought of as being on my mother’s side of the family), Jake really is my cousin, which is good, because he looked just like my father, and like my father’s father.

Okay, okay, enough of this nonsense. You understand the connection. So let me tell you about Edith.


Here’s picture of Edith as a child. She was a sharp-looking kid. She had devoted parents, devoted grandparents, a devoted aunt, and two devoted uncles. Although both of the uncles later married and had children, their children were many years younger than Edith. So, for a long time, on her mother's side, she was it.


Edith grew up pretty and popular. In fact, because she was so popular, and always had a date or something else going on, an expression developed in the family. If the conversation turned to a topic that was better left undiscussed, and someone wanted to change the subject, a sure-fire way to do this was to ask the question, “So, what’s Edith doing Saturday night?” Because one thing they could always rely on was that Edith would be doing something on Saturday night, and there would be an answer to the question.

Edith had a lot of friends and a lot of what you might call opportunities. She was pretty and smart. But she didn’t meet Jules (“Julie the Man”) until the late 1940s, and Julie was apparently the man she was meant to meet. They were married in 1948. Their son Peter in 1950, and Richie was born in 1955.

+++++

That was the chapter in the book. Here's a little more. First, a picture of my mother (on the left) and Edie, sometime in the early 1940's:


And later, in the 1970's:



They were in many ways like sisters, my mother being the younger one who always deferred to the older, prettier, richer one. Even so, our families were close and remained so. It's nearly three years ago that my sister and I went to Florida to be there when Richie had to tell his mother than his brother had lost his battle with cancer. After that, Edith began to slip away. In time, she forgot about Peter, and Julie too, and didn't recognize Richie most of the time. Before she became completely out of touch, she would sometimes ask when Shirl was coming to visit. Richie would tell her that she would be there soon.

I had my share of arguments with Edith over the years -- nearly everyone did -- because I had strong opinions and she could never see anyone else's point of view. She was conservative in every way as long as she lived. She didn't agree with intermarriage or children with poor manners. She was a one-of-a-kind, and she was ours. I can only hope that this Saturday night, she'll be sitting around a kitchen table in Brooklyn with Shirl and Jack, and with my grandparents and Edith's parents, all of them having a good laugh.


GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #2008
READING: Paper Towns by John Green

Lagging Behind

I think I haven't written in a few days. I'm not sick or anything, just lazy. Or something.

My reading slump seems to be over. I finished Edgar Sawtelle, which I recommend, and also Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, which I also recommend. On to something new.

I just got a Facebook request from my college roommate, which I approved. Now that's what I'm talking about. That's the kind of person Facebook is supposed to connect you to.

I find that I am, for lack of a better word, astonished by what's going on with the economy. It's as if the entire paradigm -- I hate that word -- of how we live our lives is undergoing a metamorphosis before our eyes. Businesses that have thrived for a hundred years are going to disappear, and I don't mean individual companies, but whole industries, the way there are no blacksmiths on every corner anymore. The monumental amount of greed that our banking industry showed is also astonishing; Madoff isn't the only one out there who pulled off what he did, you know. But in terms of the average everyday us, we are slowly coming to see that we are not entitled to the things we used to think we were. And more. It's hard to put into words.

For years, I used to see commercials on TV every single day for cars, investment, and so on, and I would feel bad because how was I ever going to buy a $30,000 car? What did I have to invest? These commercials, I felt, were directed towards the very small segment of the population that had this kind of money to burn. (I didn't realize that people were buying cars -- and houses -- they couldn't afford by taking out absurd loans.) Now I see this same commercials and I think: Who are they kidding? NO ONE is going to buy that stuff now, so why are they wasting their money on the ads? They need to completely re-think the way they do their business if they want to survive, the businesses that do that are the ones who will. Can you imagine no General Motors? They snoozed, and they lost.

In other news, I don't think acupuncture is doing it for me. I'm considering alternatives. The substitute acupuncturist who worked on me last Saturday worked hard on my neck/shoulder/arm, and I am still not good for that. My upper arm is weak, and mostly hurts. I'm considering therapeutic massage, but not just yet.

If I'm still alert when it gets dark, which should be soon, I think I may treat myself to a Pay-Per-View movie, which I've only done once or twice before, I think, and watch The Secret Lives of Bees. I'll let you know how I make out with that.


QVC :: ENTRY #2007
READING: Paper Towns by John Green

Everybody Gots Feet

I haven't ranted in a while, and this isn't much of a rant, but trust me, you'll enjoy it more than an account of my visit to the urologist today.

I wear sneakers, generally. Or crocs, or things of that nature. I never wear pumps, or any kind of shoes with heels. I wear princess heels if I'm going to a wedding, maybe. That's it.

Aside from the comfort factor, which is the big thing for me, of course, I wear shoes that make no noise. I became aware of this when I was walking through the school hallway on my way to lunch and I realized that the Land's End sneakers I got on Monday were really squeaky. It wasn't the shoes, because they weren't squeaky at home, or in the carpeted library, but they sure were on the hallway floors. I don't know what this substance is called; it's what you've seen on the floor of every school, police station, courtroom, and public building you've ever been in. Hold on, I'll look it up. Talk amongst yourselves.

It's terrazzo. Back to feet.

So I'm squeaking my way from the library into the math section of the school, where I have lunch, and behind me I hear clonk.clonk.clonk.clonk.clonk. The sound of heels walking on terrazzo.

OMG, I cannot stand that sound. Why is it that women in heels feel that everyone in the whole damn world should have to hear them coming? Or going? Or in this case, shadowing, since whoever this was -- I didn't turn around -- was three feet behind me, matching my stride. There are plenty of women in my school who have turned this clonking of their heels on the floor into a kind of choreography, a kind of showing off, or at least it seems to me. It makes me want to scream, YES I KNOW YOU HAVE FEET! EVERYBODY GOTS FEET! NOW SHUT UP!

(When my kids were little, there was an ad on TV for a toy that was a piano keyboard you put down on the floor and danced on to play music, the home version of that giant keyboard Tom Hanks danced on in Big. At the end of the commercial, a serious male voice intoned "If you've got feet, you can play whatever it was." And K, who was about two, turned to us and lookied puzzled, or maybe annoyed at the announcer's stupidity, and declared, because she knew this for sure: "Everybody gots feet.")

Here are my pictures. I'm guessing you can click on them to see them bigger, but I really don't know. I got this iPhone app that lets you take panoramas. The first picture -- Before -- is basically what the view was from where my desk used to be in the library. The second one -- After -- is the view from where I sit now. The second one looks like it's kind of cut in half in the middle, but it's only the edge of a pillar.









FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2006
READING: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by Davbid Wroblewski

Happiness Is

For me today, happiness is going to the accountant and leaving with a smile on my face. You know, if I could change one thing in my life, it would be that I would have handled money very differently -- or had the Hubs handle it -- and not have had the stress money has always caused me. Now that our income is so much less, I am fortunately taking wonderful happy pills (or else I have matured a great deal, which is far less likely), and I am just going with the flow. But I understand money so little, that each year, the trip to the accountant is like a trip for surgery, and I never know how it's going to come out. Whatever he tells me, I believe him, and it could go either way from year to year. Now it's over for this year, and no one is asking me to send them money I don't have. It doesn't get much better than that.

Have you ever read a book and you say to yourself as you're reading "If one more bad thing happens, I am walking away from this?" When I read Angela's Ashes, I said to myself "If one more baby dies, I'm outta here!" but no one else died, and I finished it. Well, I am loving Edgar Sawtelle, it's so beautifully written, but if there is anything else sad, I don't think I can take it. And I know it will. :<

I must get back to writing during the day, when my brain is still working. It's almost seven, and I have nothing left. But I may have a neat picture for you all tomorrow.



FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2005
READING: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by Davbid Wroblewski

But First ...

Meme from Mary

REAL NAME:
Ooh, I'm very careful with my real name online, mostly because I don't want to lose my job. I'll let this one go.

2. WITNESS PROTECTION NAME:(mother's and father's middle names)
Edith Herbert

3. NASCAR NAME:(first name of your mother's dad, father's dad)
Sam Louis

4. STAR WARS NAME:(the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name)
Can Ro

5. DETECTIVE NAME:(favorite color, favorite animal)
Purple Dog

6. SOAP OPERA NAME:(middle name, town where you were born)
Heidi Bronx

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (2nd fav color, fav car, add "THE" to the beginning)
The Blue Tracker

8. FLY NAME:(first 2 letters of 1st name, last 2 letters of your last name)
Ca Ne

9.STREET NAME:(fav ice cream flavor, fav cookie)
Vanilla Oreo

10. SKANK NAME: (1st pet's name, street you grew up on)
Willie 33

11. GANGSTA NAME:(first 3 letters of last name plus 'izzle')
Canizzle

12. YOUR GOTH NAME:(black, and the name of one of your pets)
Black Boo

13. STRIPPER NAME: (name of your fav perfume/cologne, fav candy)
Vanilla Pez

(About the middle names: Neither my mother nor I were actually given middle names. Her mother told her when she was a kid that if she wanted one, she should just pick one, and since her middle name in Yiddish was the same as her cousin Edith's first name in Yiddish, and also she worshiped the ground Edith walked on, she picked Edith. When I was about six, my mother told me the same thing, and I had just read a children's edition of Heidi, so I picked that. It's not really middle name, but it's the closest I have to one.)

La la la, it's just a lazy day at home for me. It's over 60 degrees here today, but overcast, so not a nice day; rain coming later. The crocuses are blooming. Yesterday was just gorgeous, like a perfect spring day. I went out first thing in the morning in a tee shirt and zipped hoodie and came right back in and changed to a tank top and denim jacket. When I went out again later, I ditched the jacket, and just wore a denim shirt over the tank. That's my kind of weather.

Other than food shopping and one load of laundry, I've done very little today, which suits me just fine. I ditched that book I was reading, The Alchemyst, which I found to be poorly written YA standard stuff. In its place, I started The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, which is just beautifully written. I'll let you know how far I get on that one.

R has convinced me to give The Watchmen another try, and suggested I download chapter one from iTunes, which is a "moving comic book"; as the panels are scanned, a voice reads the words. I certainly grew up immersed in comic books and I'm okay with graphic novels in general -- loved Persepolis -- but I found The Watchmen just too hard to read, too much going on at once, a graphic format I don't enjoy. I'll see if this is better, since I would like to read it.

And now my laundry is done, so I must go fold, and pick out tomorrow's clothes, and make tomorrow's lunch.



JEWS IN AMERICA on PBS :: ENTRY #2004
READING: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by Davbid Wroblewski

It Was

WEINDORF

You can't imagine how proud I was of myself for, first of all, remembering, and secondly, not calling my sister last night at midnight when I remembered it. I did call her from school today, and she was proud of me, too. Somewhere, Shirl is smiling down on me.

(See yesterday's entry for the story about the family whose last name I could not remember.)

Seriously, that was my big accomplishment for the day. I feel fine, generally, except for the headaches, and had a bit of an odd day at school, but not a bad one. I'm not loving the book I'm reading, but I'm finishing it because it's a popular teen novel of the moment, so I should know it. It just seems to be something that's been done before. (At one point, a character says to another character: "I thought I recognized your foul stench." Star Wars, anyone?)

My mission for tomorrow is acupuncture and, if we're lucky and find a place to park, the new Target. And getting the clock change right, which I never do.


FAMILY GUY :: ENTRY #2003
READING: The Alchemyst by Michael Scott

Yes!

HSPA (which we pronounce hespa) is over, for now, for which we are all grateful. That would be the High School Proficiency Assessment, which New Jersey students must pass to graduate from high school. I'd like to say that's it's over until next year, but actually it's only over until next week, when those who couldn't wake up on time for three days in a row this week will take the make-ups. Which were going to be given in the library -- and I didn't even blow a gasket -- but then got moved to a classroom. So for me, no more HSPAs for a year.

It was 45 degrees when I left school today, and this tune started up in my head: It's summatime summatime sum- sum- summatime! because, you know, in comparison, 45 degrees is great weather. It's supposed to be almost 60 on Saturday, so I guess I can go out in shorts and flip-flops. As if I ever left the house in shorts and flip-flops.

This was a nice short week, it seemed. I guess that's what happens when it starts with a snow day.

My wonderful therapist has set me partially free; she thinks I don't need to come in every week any more. Gloriosky, I'm cured! Or something; mostly she thinks that I'm dealing pretty well with all my medical and physical crap, which was my reason for going to her to begin with. And I am, pretty much. For now, I'll be going every other week, but she says she'll keep my time open, so I can go in between, if I want to.

I need to dream about my mother tonight, because I'm trying to remember something that she would know, and I need to ask her. (No, it doesn't really work like that.) Here's what it is. I was talking today to one of our younger teachers, who is teaching a unit on the Holocaust and genocide. I was explaining to her that I don't generally watch Holocaust movies (like Schindler's List, for example, or Life is Beautiful) or read books about the Holocaust, because I think that education is important so that no one ever forgets, but that I am in no danger of forgetting, so I don't have to see that stuff. She seemed to think this was very strange, but I explained that when I was a child, it was kind of common for other kids to have parents or grandparents who were Holocaust survivors, and that my father had helped liberate a camp, and so this was a very tangible thing that I grew up with, not history. Then I remembered our next door neighbors when we lived in the apartment, before we moved to B-Town. The kids were a boy a year younger than my sister (Stanley) and a girl a year younger than I, who was my friend (Sherry.) Their mother (Ruth) and their father, whose name I could not remember, were camp survivors. (It took me all day, but I remembered that his name was Steve.) Anyway, anybody could see that Ruth had numbers tattooed on her arm, although Steve did not. My parents explained that this meant that Steve had been in a labor camp, where he was expected to work until he died, so that it wasn't important to keep track of him. Ruth, however, was assigned a number and kept track of. They had both been put in the camps as teenagers. When I was older, my mother told me that Ruth had been taken when she was twelve or thirteen, along with her identical twin sister. If you know about the Holocaust, then you know it was not a good place to be a twin. Both of them were subjected to medical experiments; the twin did not survive. Anyway, I knew them to be lovely people, devoted parents. Stanley was obnoxious, although Sherry was very sweet and pretty. The thing is: I CANNOT REMEMBER THEIR LAST NAME AND IT IS DRIVING ME CRAZY. My mother would know. My sister doesn't remember, either, and IT IS DRIVING ME CRAZY. All I can think of is Weinberg, but seriously, I'm sure I would remember if our next door neighbors both before and after we moved were all named Weinberg, and I know for a fact that our neighbors in B-Town were. That would have amused me, even at eight years old.

Okay, so. I now need to take my allergy meds because I am breaking out in itchies all over. Such is my lot in life.


KEITH OLBERMAN :: ENTRY #2002
READING: The Alchemyst by Michael Scott

How Unusual

I overslept this morning, a very odd thing for me to do. When I woke up -- a half hour late -- the Hubs was standing there in his jacket and hat, so he was up and had been outside to shuffle the cars around. Why didn't he wake me up? Anybody's guess. If I wake up and feel sick and go back to sleep, I leave him a note so he knows not to wake me. I guess I don't have to do that anymore.

I moved like a little dynamo and was out of the house in a little more than a half hour. I also learned that the microwave in the library will not properly heat up my frozen breakfast burrito. Ew.

Second day of testing. I got the right book to read, but people kept coming by and talking to me, so I didn't get to very much of it.

Speaking of books, Amazon has now created a Kindle app for the iPhone, which means I can get my ebooks from Amazon, which has the biggest selection, and coincidentally, the best prices.

And there is a HUGE new Target opening very nearby on Saturday! Seriously, does it get any better than this?



FRIENDS :: ENTRY #2001
READING: The Alchemyst by Michael Scott

From Beautiful Downtown B-Town High School

Well, hello. What a strange day it has been. I started with hall duty during the state test, where I sat reading a book that made no sense to me. Afterwards, I realized that instead of picking up the book I wanted to read, which was on a shelf under my desk, I grabbed its sequel, which was on top of my desk, checked out to someone who forgot to pick it up on Friday. So I'm reading this book and thinking "Wow, it's like they started the story in the middle! Why didn't the author explain what happened before this?" Hmm. Tomorrow morning, I think I'll read the right book.

As soon as my hall duty was over, the tech came in to set up the laptop for use at my desk, and that has taken virtually all day. He finished before lunch, but when I came back from lunch, he was doing more to it. So I've been away from my desk most of the day, when there are lists of things I need to do.

It's also been a pretty Crohnish day, which sucks somewhat. No pain or discomfort, really, but many and frequent visits to the ladies'. Acupuncture this afternoon could be very unpleasant for one of us (the doctor or me), and I don't think it's going to be me.

Manicure tomorrow, which is good, because my nails are really too long to type on a laptop.

Thirty minutes to go. Tick tick tick tick ...



TWO AND A HALF MEN :: ENTRY #2000
READING: ??? by ???

Ahhh.

What a nice day.

I never even opened the front door, I never got dressed. I love a day like that, especially when it's a winter wonderland outside.

We never really got the volume of snow they were predicting, but we did have a good six inches (or so it appears from the window.) I got the robo-call around 10:30 last night, a good hour after I saw our district listed on the closed schools list on the New Jersey news. My poor new librarian, who cannot be absent for the first 30 days of her employment, went to Florida this weekend for a family function and is stuck there. She called me last night and said she doesn't expect to get on a flight before Tuesday night, which means she'll miss school tomorrow. I hope they'll be sympathetic, since it was all out of her control.

In the meantime, I did finally get all my tax stuff together, and I'll call tomorrow for an appointment. Every year I swear I'll do this better and be more organized, but I never seem to get to do it. I'm always drowning in a sea of papers that I have to sort through to get the numbers I need. I'm going to ask the accountant if it's just as good if you scan stuff and keep the copies that way; if so, I'll shred every bill the minute I pay it. And if I had a brain, I'd keep a spreadsheet of all the medical stuff, since that's always a challenge.

I was very sore and achy afterward from sitting on the floor for so long -- apparently I "file" my papers on top of a box in the kneehole under my desk -- so it was back to the heating pad for me this afternoon. But there was no Law and Order on! WTF? I mean, what's a snow day without a couple episodes of L & O? Sheesh.

School tomorrow, and I am prepared.



MASH :: ENTRY #1999
READING: ??? by ???

Waiting

We're under a winter storm alert starting at six tonight -- that's a half hour ago -- until six tomorrow night. They're predicting eight to twelve inches of snow for us, which certainly sounds like a snow day tomorrow, all except for one thing: no snow yet.

Not a flake has fallen since the little flurry this morning, and nothing stuck. I['m kind of expecting to get the robo-call from my school district around five a.m., at which point I'll look out the window and see a winter wonderland. Or not. Our chances of snow are 100%, so I guess it's coming. It sure would be nice to know whether or not to put out clothes for tomorrow, but I guess it won't hurt if I pick them out but don't use them.

My sister was supposed to be going to visit her son in California tomorrow, but her flight's already been canceled, so she'll be re-scheduling that.

I got a lot done today, but I never touched the tax stuff, since I guess I felt pretty sure I could do it tomorrow. I did five loads of laundry and got it all put away, made two days' worth of school lunches, and did indeed make a batch of breakfast burritos. I used a half dozen eggs and made eight of them. It didn't even take long, and now I know some changes I need to make for next time. Of course, the proof will be when I take one out to eat tomorrow, and see how good it is after being frozen and then nuked.

K just stepped outside for a smoke and came back in and said that it's eerily quiet out there, which is the big uh-oh, the literal quiet before the storm. You know that feeling of absolute quiet just before the blizzard hits? Yeah, that.

funny, I think it's already snowing in New England, north of us, and south of us as well. The ILs had some snow stick this morning, about an hour and half to our south. But the weather maps on TV are looking pretty scary, so again, I guess there's no escaping it.

Oh, I finished Like Water for Chocolate, which was short, and a wonderful book. Go for it if it presents itself to you. Now I need to see if I can get my hands on the movie. And also decide what to read next. I have a book here at home (Rabbit, Run by John Updike), a book at school that I picked out to read while I'm on hall duty during this week's testing (The Alchemyst, I don't remember the author), and a book on the iPhone (The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, by David Wroblewski.) I'm leaning toward the Updike tonight, which is also short, but I have to see if the print is hard for me to read, in which case, it's Sawtelle. I really loved last night's book, though.

And Golden Girls marathon on the Hallmark channel today! Can't beat that.



GOLDEN GIRLS :: ENTRY #1998
READING: ??? by ???