My Mazel

Just my mazel.

We are under a freaking blizzard warning until 6 pm tomorrow. Which totally wouldn't matter to me in the least, except, of course, that I need to be at the hospital at 8 am for surgery.

Shit. Drek.

I'm hoping that my intrepid husband will get me there, and experience tells me that he will. However, I reserve the right to stress over this until I see that the doctor and his entire team are there, too. Sadly, they cannot really on the Hubs for transportation.

I'll let you know.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

It's Thursday

I cannot possibly get everything I need to get done by Monday done. And yet, I suppose I will. And what doesn't get done doesn't. Que sera, etc.

Tomorrow I will be cooking and/or setting up all day for the evening's Christmas Eve meal, at which we will be joined by R's new in-laws. Folks, I have a weeny little house, but I do have a nice new table and chairs, and a whole mess of Fiesta Ware, so it will be what it is. My daughter the gourmet helped set up the menu, but I am making all of it. Cute, eh? Never mind. It's a very Italian-themed meal, and I think it'll be fun to make. I just have to keep out of my own way.

Christmas itself will be a whole new thing this year. My own ILs are in their new place, it's only 20 minutes away, and none of us are cooking, we'll be eating in a private room at one of the on-site restaurants. We could be home before dark.

Christmas will be over the second we get home, and I will go right into prep for surgery mode. Not only will I be on a liquid diet all day Sunday, I'll be getting things ready for when I get home, like moving my computer to where I'll be lying down, putting crutches nearby in case I need help getting up, getting my pj-type wear where it'll all be convenient for other people to grab it for me, like that. All of my laundry will be done and put away before I leave for the hospital.

I'm not so much nervous about the surgery as I am about the unknown aftermath, diet and strength and so on. Tonight, the Sibs and I are going to test our Skype connection, since she's still housebound with her broken leg for a few weeks. I know Skype's been down, but like everything else, what is is, and I'll see how it goes.

As for me, I'm going to make another cheese sandwich on Wonder Bread, nectar of the freaking gods. I've been eating lately as if each thing I eat is for the last time, which could be. More likely, not for a long time. They told me at the surgeon's office that I won't be able to eat meat for maybe a year. Now, I could care less about steak, so it didn't sound so bad at first. And then I thought: what about a BLT? (On white toast, with swiss cheese and mayo on the side, please.) No bacon? And no sweets, they tell me? What else won't I be able to eat forever?

Ok, sandwich. I probably won't post till after the surgery, but I'll get K to post a "Mom's okay" if I can.

So.

So here's what's new:

My surgery has been moved up to December 27 because the surgeon had a cancellation. That means I can get it done sooner than later, and not on next year's insurance with the deductible all in one chunk in January. Cool. The downside is that this is just over two weeks away (!), in which time I have to Christmas up the house, have Christmas Eve dinner here with R's in-laws, go to my own in-laws' new place on Christmas, then go on a liquid diet for a day, and then there we are. Before I go to the hospital, I want everything set up here so I don't have to have other people move things for me (like my computer) when I get back. I expect that I will be taking the tree down in April or thereabouts.

My sister broke her leg the other day. Actually, I think she broke the same bone in her knee that I broke four years ago, but worse. She's immobilized, and according to her doctor, in bed for four to six weeks. So, her keeping me company during my recuperation is out. As is her making me her boffo rice pudding when I'm up to grainy food. I'm guessing we will actually not see each other for several weeks, being both house-ridden, and even when I can go out, I'm unlikely to make it up her narrow, steep staircase to the second floor right away, and she can't come down. Interesting. I should investigate the whole webcam thing before the surgery, eh? We both have Macs with webcams, so I guess it can be done.

We are all about minimizing Christmas this year, and I think we will continue to do so. Not that we ever do it up big, but this year, almost all gifts are gift-cards and the like; there's practically nothing to wrap, and I'm wrapping what I have in handkerchiefs and scarves, no paper. But the tree will go up, and it will be decorated. I like that a lot. I'm going to put my small tree with the mini-ornaments in the family room this year, too, so I can enjoy that. (Before the surgery, and for a while after, apparently.)

Yet tomorrow at the crack of 7:00 am, I'm hitting a few stores before that get jammed because I have a handful of terrific coupons, and I realized earlier today that all the yoga pants I sleep in have holes and exposed elastic, which will not be so cozy for the recuperation time. I'll see what I can do. It looks like I have enough Kohl's coupons and offers to get what I need and have them pay me.

A Tale of Two ... Three Menorahs

So as it turns out, I have three menorahs. I thought I had two, but when I was looking this morning for the one I wanted to light, I have three.


The one on the left, the brass one, is one that I bought about twenty years ago because I thought it would be nice to have a menorah that I liked, that I picked out, which I had never had before. It's the one I light every year. The one on the right in the picture has a story.

My Grandpa Sam was an Orthodox Jew, but he compromised on a lot of the details over the years because he was poor. If he had to work on Saturday, well then he prayed for forgiveness and he was sure that G-d forgave him. (In the context of my grandfather, I'll use the Jewish convention for putting the name of the Almighty into print.) I was told that when my mother was a child, her mother lit the Sabbath candles on Friday nights, but I never saw her do that, and I never saw my grandparents light a menorah on Chanukah, but I think that was because they always came to visit us on Chanukah and helped light ours. I assume they had one, but since I was never in their home when it came out, who knows?

In 1970, a young man in the Soviet Union petitioned his government for the right to emigrate to Israel, and was turned down. Following that, he refused to accept this decision and was deported to Israel (?) and he later came to New York and staged a hunger strike outside the United Nations to try to get his family released as well. He was the first "refusenik", as these Russian-Jewish would-be emigrants were called; his Russian name was Yaakov Kazakov. He was my grandmother's nephew -- her sister's grandson, actually -- and when he came to New York, he brought this menorah from Israel as a gift to my grandparents.

My grandmother, as she did with any nice things she had, wrapped it up and put it away "for later." She gave it to me, unused, when I got married, and so it was the menorah I had and lit every year until I got the brass one. It's in an Israeli-art style that I never liked, and although I liked the story (and Yaakov, whom I met, and his grandmother Sonia, when she later came to visit from Israel), I just didn't care for this menorah. But my kids loved it, it was our menorah, it came from my grandmother, we HAD to use it every year! So some years, I lit both.

I didn't even remember that I had the little one in front, the third one. I'm guessing it must have belonged to my parents, although it's not the one we lit when I was a kid. That was a cheap tin menorah, with all the candleholders loose, but it was the same shape and format as this one (but not in the Israeli enameled style.) This must have been the menorah my mother wanted, and bought after we grew up.


I have so many boxes of candles because I buy a box every year but I never remember to light the menorah each night for eight nights, so I have extra. This year I'm using the nice beeswax ones on the upper right. I've never used beeswax before. The candles are lit at sunset, the center one first each night, and then that one is used to light the others, one the first night, two the second night, and so on. The candles melt down and burn out in a half hour or so; they're one-use-only.

I found this paper today, too; I didn't realize I had it. Despite her father's Orthodoxy, my mother wasn't raised that way; anyway, girls didn't go to Hebrew school or have Bat Mitzvahs in her day. So when she lit the candles every year, she had to read the prayer, and this is the cheat-sheet she read it from. I'm sure she had this before I was born, and I saw it in her hands -- later in mine -- every Chanukah of my childhood. We have always read aloud the transliterated Hebrew prayer, which is to say, it sounds like Hebrew, but we read it in English, like this:

Bo-ruch atoh a-do-noy, e-lo-he-nu me-lech ho-o-lom ...

Do I still read it when I light the candles? I do. I don't do it because I believe in G-d so much as I do it because I believe in the history and traditions of the people of whom I am one. The English translation appears below the Hebrew on the page:

Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us by thy commandments, and has commanded us to kindle the lights of Chanukah.

Blessed art thou, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who wroughtest miracles for our fathers in days of old, at this season.

Hey There, Hi There

Yes, it's me again, in less than a month. I go, girl.

So, I'm in the midst of a scan at the hospital, except I'm home now, having been shot with nuclear dye, and I get to go back in a few hours for the scan, and again tomorrow for a repeat of the scan. Somehow, a lot of red tape got mixed up in this, and I'm pissed off today, which I haven't been for a long, long time. I also can't eat all day until the scan is over. I'm not happy. I am hungry.

The Empress did a book meme yesterday that I'm going to do some of here. First question:

Hardcover or paperback, and why?

Well, well, well. I have no preference, generally, between hc and p. I do have a preference for e. Yes, I've enjoyed the ebooks since they were first available, but now, I'm going to say it's my preference. Here's why. I like that they provide their own light source (the iphone and ipad do), which means I can read in the dark, which I love to do. I like that the font size can be changed to suit the reader. And lately, I've become more aware that really, e is the ecologically sound way to go. The only drawback to the e is that you have to buy them, you can't borrow them easily, so ts expensive. I try to find cheap books, or use discount and such.

The author, alive or dead, that I would love to have lunch with, and why?

First, Shakespeare. I've got a lot of questions for Shakespeare. Next, probably John Steinbeck or Ernest Hemingway, likewise, questions. For a nice, pleasant, funny lunch, however, I'd have to go with Fannie Flagg.

The smell of an old book reminds me of ...

My library, of course. And the bookshelf in the spare bedroom at my Aunt Rose's house when I was a kid.

If I could be the lead character in a book, I would be ...

Jo March, of course, from Little Men. She's the teacher and nurturer I always wanted to be, even, when I first read the book, consciously.

No answer to the favorite quotation question; there are too many to list.

Excuse me, I have to go hydrate now for the scan later. I have to be well-hydrated and empty (it's a stomach scan); they told me to take a laxative the night before, but hey. I have Crohn's Disease, laxatives are my mortal enemy. I'm a walking laxative. (TMI?) I'm not liking these hospital people so much at the moment.

Happy Thanksgiving, Y'all

Dear god, nearly a month since I last wrote here! Bad, bad girl. Well, everything's done in the kitchen for now, until the turkey comes out, I've showered and dressed, and it's time I tried to catch you guys up a little, assuming anyone is still reading. I still read what you post and I follow on FaceBook, although I rarely write there. For today, I've got some stuff that I don't want to put on FaceBook because I don't want feedback from everyone I ever knew, but I'll get to that.

First, the newlyweds. They're back from two weeks in Hawaii, back at work, settling in, all is well with them. I just love my boy, E. He is as good as gold, as sweet as pie.

My K is happily teaching along, burdened with work and planning and papers to grade, as most teachers are, but especially as all first-year teachers are. Her little baby cat, Otto, is the cutest cat ever, and still very kittenish, running around like a mad man.

My in-laws did indeed sell their house and they moved up closer to us last week. They're about 20 minutes away, so, YAY, no more holidays spent on the Garden State Parkway. Moving was quite a traumatic experience for everyone involved, which I may get back to another time, but they're in, they still have boxes to unpack and always will. The downside of having them close is that apparently they think they can call on their children -- the Hubs' sister is 20 minutes away in the other direction -- for ridiculous little things, like to come over and look through all the boxes for something stupid, like a particular screwdriver that no one needs now, the FIL just wants to know where it is. *sigh*

Next Thanksgiving, we will have a little one at the table -- AT LAST! -- as my Good Guy nephew and his lovely wife are expecting in the spring. Baby Jacob is to be named after my father, who preferred to go by Jack, but Jacob was his actual given name. First baby in the family on both sides, so this little guy probably won't touch ground until he's three. Want to bet his first word is going to be "Down!"?

As for me, in the neverending saga of new doctors to see and rare conditions to have, I have a tumor in my stomach that is "carcinoid" which possibly means "cancer-like" but isn't cancer. (Not too clear on that part.) It's a particular type of cancer tumor that occurs in the stomach but doesn't behave like cancer: it doesn't spread and it doesn't grow. (Although I suppose it grew somehow to what it is now.) The doctors, and there are three in on this case, are adamant this is NOT stomach cancer, although it is a cancer (-like) tumor in my stomach. ? Anyway, I have no symptoms of anything, I feel fine, and I'll be having it removed on January 3, when my surgeon comes back after teaching his technique around the world. I'm having robotic surgery -- another time for more on that -- and a partial gastrectomy, which means they don't so much remove the tumor as they remove the part of the stomach that has the tumor on it. I've been assured that if I don't live to a ripe old age, this won't be the cause; they're getting it out and I'll be fine. So that's that.

However, on Monday, the day before my wonderful Dr. Resnick, clarified all of this, I figured I'd be having traditional surgery (lousy, long recuperation) and it would probably turn out to be cancer, so I got myself a present -- as I do for big life challenges -- and now I'll be fine and all, but I'm keeping the iPad.

Excuse me a moment -- first basting of the turkey.

I've been oddly laid-back about Thanksgiving this year, although I did finally get a farm-raised fresh turkey, as the kids have been asking me to do for years and years. Usually, I have everything we need laid out on the table so it's right at hand, but this year I've been going down to the basement for pots and serving pieces as we need them. This is always a day of continuous dish washing and drying for us, so I just worked that in. (And the drainboard is clear now, as it should be.) We're off to Wonderful Niece's later on, all of us meeting there, since she has the biggest dining room. (She also has doggies for me to play with, although her cats stay in hiding the whole time.)

I still don't have much better wedding pictures, but any that I have are at FaceBook, so if you know me there, you can take a look.

I'll keep in touch.

Settling in

First, this is the only semi-decent picture I have (it's the same one I put on Facebook.)


I can't believe that absolutely no one has sent me any pictures. If I hadn't given my camera to a friend for the ceremony. I wouldn't even have this.

Two quick tidbits today, one also alluded to on Facebook. When I shop, if I see something small that I know one of my daughters would like, I pick it up. Like world flag pushpins for the bulletin boards in K's classroom. A $3 DVD of a movie I know R loves. A cute t-shirt or funny slippers. A candy bar.

I was in Target this morning at 8:02, looking for a few things, and I stopped for a minute to look at the character-shirts in the men's department. At last! A boy to buy stuff for! (One does not gve the Hubs random gifts, or even birthday gifts. It makes him mad. [sigh]) And now someone new to get to know to get stuff for. What candy does he like? Would he wear a Kermit t-shirt? And so on.

(BTW, even though he really is my son-in-law now, I've decided to stop referring to him as the SnL. The pair of them together are now R/E. He alone is /E. In my head, I say this as "and E", and so I could just refer to him as Andy, but that would just be confusing, especially since Andrew is his middle name.)

Second cute moment of the morning. Coming home from Target, I passed the elementary school down the street, and of course, the kids are all in costume today. Every child is accompanied to school by a parent, or multiple adults, today in particular. (We have no busing in Bizarro Town, so every child is expected to walk -- all the schools are within walking distance of the kids who go there -- so most parents accompany them.) Anyway, I couldn't help but notice the looks of confusion and awe on the faces of the Russian grandparents this morning. If these people are in their sixties, they probably don't work in this country, but both grandmas and grandpas provide childcare for their double-income hardworking children. And you can be sure that they saw nothing like Halloween at school in their USSR Cold War childhoods. I saw one man whose face seemed to say that he couldn't decide is this was incredibly cute or incredibly ridiculous.

Nearly ten o'clock, which means more stores are opening and I have more tasks to do. When I wake up at four, I have to wait and do things in the house, but sometimes I need to get something to finish what house thing I have to do. Thanks for Home Depot, which opened at seven this morning!

The Madness Has Ended

It really was a lovely wedding and a great weekend. I'll share more details later, and better pictures, when I get some. (I have nothing good of the bride, at the moment, but I should have some soon.) For now, I have two strips of pictures of me from the photobooth, which was the "favor" at the wedding.

With my eldest nephew, who flew in from San Diego, where he is a musician and general community personality, from what I gather.


and with my baby, K, the maid of honor par excellence:


As for me, what can I say? I am not a troll, but my facial paralysis only ever really shows in pictures, so when I see pictures of myself I always think "Gah! Is that what look like?!" The answer is that actually I don't look like that. In person, moving and alive, I actually look better. Yesterday, I probably looked better than have since my own wedding.

The Madness Begins

So if we've had since last Thanksgiving to get ready for all this, and we are nothing if not people who prepare everything in advance, how come we're down to, like, a day and a half, and all of a sudden there's too much to do in the time that's left and not enough ways to do it? I'll leave you with these few words until I return to the land of the sane people some time next week:

centerpieces.
rental van.
ipads.
sister.
not packed yet.
oy.
vey.

Three Days to Go!

It's Thursday. Morning. I'm waiting for the guy to come and fix the dryer and the guy to check the furnace for the winter heating season. Oh, and my kid's getting MARRIED on Sunday!

(It would be weird, wouldn't it, to say "My kids are getting married on Sunday"? SnL is already like my own kid, the one with upper body strength and height; we just didn't meet him until a couple of years ago. We love him, he loves us. Couldn't be happier until K finds her match.)

Anyway, I have been busy with a capital B (so to speak). Last night, the immediate my side of the family was here, including my Colorado cousin + her hubs, my sister + her hubs, Wonderful Niece + her hubs, my hubs, all my kids, and last but not least, Good Guy nephew, who came without his wife because it was her father's birthday, so she was with him. And GG brought with him the latest sonograms of the Little Peanut, who will be joining our entourage in the spring. YAYAYYAYAYAYAY!!!! Somebody is finally making a baby for me to fuss over!

Anyway, the thing about last night is this: I have not entertained in years and years. It felt very good to do it, to know I did it right, and it was all fun and not stressful. Another nice development for me.

After this morning's service people finish -- or blow me off, whichever -- I have many tasks to get done, including a trip to the wedding venue to get a gift card or whatever they do there for our hairdresser. We've been going to him for nearly 20 years, so that's most of the kids' hairstyling lives. On Sunday, he's coming to the hotel at 7:00 am to do our hair and is not charging for the three of us: R, K, and me. So a nice gift is in order. I also have to get to the bank to get cash for tips for the various other people: photographer, florist delivery, etc. And recycling, and the cable place to exchange a remote, and on and on and on.

Tomorrow: massage, then nails. Then girls passing through on their way to and from hair, nails, here and there. Friday: a nice relaxing pedicure with my sister and my Colorado cousin.

Saturday: Madness! Must check into the hotel by 3:00, must leave the hotel by 4:00 to get to the rehearsal dinner. Back at the hotel, hang out with the cousins or the ILs who are there. Must somehow transport the entire centerpiece forest as part of this operation, but I think that R has signed up Wonderful Niece's Wonderful Husband for this project.

SUNDAY!!! Waking up at the ass-crack of dawn, must do my hair and make-up by 7:00 am and then cover up with a robe so I don't destroy the dress. Then help R as necessary and wait for my hair turn. Then pictures, and then, I believe, crying happy tears for a couple of hours, and then more food than I could even imagine -- R read us the menu last night -- and I remember the food orgy at this same place when I got married 33 years ago.

I am reminded now to look for the handkerchiefs that were left to me by my grandmother (50 years ago) because that would be the best thing to catch my happy tears with, yes?

I will post whatever pictures I can, promise, at the very least one of me.

Good weekend, all! (But probably not as good as mine!)

Warning: Underwear Based Entry Follows!

As I believe I have already mentioned, the reach of Wedding is long and sneaky and surprising. Consider the shoes. And the underwear. (No pictures with this entry, btw.)

I have tried on my dress several times. I have had my makeup done; I wrote down every step and have been practicing so that it will be right on the day of Wedding. I had my hair done the way it will be on Wedding day. I have figured out what jewelry I will wear, and bought what I needed and didn't have. That left only two things to be practiced: shoes and underwear.

Yes, I am wearing heels, and the shoes have what I think is obnoxiously called a "peep" toe. I got a practice color on my toes the other day -- pale pink -- and it looked good. I wore the shoes all day yesterday (with my jeans and t-shirt; I looked ridiculous) and they were pretty comfortable. So I'm guessing I can live in them for a day, although I also got flats, which I will test tomorrow.

*sigh*

Probably because I am at a level of insanity reserved for mothers of imminent brides or grooms, I decided that an ordinary bra would not do. My dress is all lace, but it is lined, so really, nothing special is needed, but if I shift the wrong way, my bra straps will show, so I decided that I had to have a strapless bra. Also, I've been toying with the idea that a good strapless bra will take some pressure off my shoulders and consequently I'll have less neck pain. So yes, I walked into a store and asked for a strapless bra in size 38DDD.

Long story short, I got it, and it was amazingly comfortable, and I've been wearing it all day (under a t-shirt) to see if I can live in it. It's strapless, but goes down to about my waist, which causes the world's biggest muffin-top thing to occur, so I have to wear a waist-cincher, or some such thing, under the bra. My posture, as you can imagine, is ramrod straight, and my belly looks fla-a-a-a-a-a-t, which I love. My bra parts, or, "girls", if you will, have never been happier, because there is only support, no pinching or anything, and they don't spread out to the sides or drop out of the cups or sag or anything. However, when I was trying to do dishes before, standing at the sink, I could not see the dishes. I can barely bend or lean, and when say support, I mean that my girls somewhat resemble Jayne Russell in the fifties. (Okay, here's one picture.)

I feel like I'm wearing an exo-skeleton, which is to say, like my own puny body is encased in Transformer-like armor that holds it up. I feel like if I take it off, my flesh will collapse to the floor in a puddle of goo.

I promise that I will post pictures of myself, at least, after the Wedding, and you will see, hopefully, that it all came together and I remained upright for the requisite time. Two weeks from today, folks! In fact, two weeks from this very minute, it will be over! (Except the brunch, which is the next morning.)

Okay, gonna go take off my Borg components and turn myself back into a human being now.

The Great Centerpiece Caper

Like most things in life, experiencing the hoopla surrounding one of your kids getting married is one of those things you really can't understand until you experience it.

Centerpieces. R had an image in her head, based on the $300 apiece centerpieces she was shown by her mother-in-law's florist. She -- R -- decided that we could make them ourselves for much less. And we did. We made 18 centerpieces for about $200 total. So far.


The wedding is October 24, so we have an autumn theme here, yes? All assembled, all done nicely except for one thing:

It's a little ... blah. What's missing is the pizzaz. We have tried all kind of things from silk leaves to using family photographs cut into leaves to stems of real flowers to just the blooms of real flowers ... you get it. All this time, I've been snapping pictures with my phone and emailing them to R, my friend Betty (the art teacher) in Maine, and my crafty sister-in-law. Finally, the SIL suggested last night that go to Pier One, where they have all kind of neat embellishments. Here's what I got, to try:


I don't know if you can tell, but the leaves on the left and pods on the right are very glittery fall colors.

Anyway, the pictures were generally coming out like crap, so R said to me last night "Why don't you use a camera?" Duh. Instead of the phone. So this morning, I took all the stuff onto the front porch to get some natural light, and I took my real camera and I snapped these pictures, as tests. None of them are finished samples, this is just to see if we like them.





You can't see the pods very well (the first one) but I like this best. I'd like to put two stems of pods in each one. Now, R has left this all up to me because she doesn't want to deal with it anymore, but it better be something she likes, yes? So I'll send her the pictures.

Which led me to my next crisis. My trusty Nikon is at least ten years old, and is fine for me. When I took out the memory card to transfer the pictures to my computer, imagine how surprised I was to find that neither my new computer nor printer has a slot that fits a compact flash card. Why? Because it's old technology. And I didn't have an adapter because I never needed one, since my old printer had a slot for it.

Oy. So, off to the giant computer store for an adapter. And while I'm there, a new camera that uses technology that's compatible with what I've got. Not an expensive camera, but still. I'll have to add that to the unexpected costs of the whole wedding experience.

Thank god this is not a monster, over-the-top wedding, and that R is about as far from a bridezilla as one could be. So this is what a moderate-type wedding costs.

The Hubs was right. The first time he held her after she was born, he cooed to her, "We're going to start saving for your wedding now." "Her wedding?" I said. "I expected you to say college." He shook his head. "Oh, she'll get a full scholarship to Georgetown [his alma mater]. But we'll have to pay for the wedding." Needless to say, no scholarship, no Georgetown, no saving for a wedding. Huh. You live, you learn.

My City Adventure, In Brief

• On Wednesday night, PBS will be showing Macbeth, starring Patrick Stewart, on Great Performances.
  
• Last night, a screening of the film -- its premiere -- was held at a theater in New York City, with both the director and the star in attendance.
• My firstborn was given two tickets to attend said premiere and knew better than to take anyone with her but her mother.
• It rained all day.
• I drove down to Woodbridge -- 50 minutes -- to take the train from there so that the two of us could take the train home to there (near where she lives). I would take the train and meet her in the city, where she was already because she works there.
• Got lost on my way there but made it in time, parked, got on the train, Facebooked it, and got into the city.
• Met up with the kid, took a cab to the Paris Theater (adjacent to the Plaza Hotel.) I saw Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet in this theater when I was 16.
• We were early, so we killed time at the Great Apple Mothership, the Cube Apple Store.
  
  
  
• This picture was taken from inside, looking up through the cube. Here's what it really looks like.
  
• Went back to the theater, and downstairs to the ladies room before taking our seats. Older style plumbing, pipes exposed behind the toilet. When I pressed the handle to flush, the top cap of the upright pipe exploded off, drenching everything in sight and flooding the bathroom floor immediately. Once I figured out how to escape the stall, I dried myself off with copious amounts of napkins -- the refreshment stand was right there -- and we found seats.
• R's boss dropped by to say hello and asked if we had heard about the water explosion in the ladies room. "Oh, really?" we answered. "It was fine when we were down there earlier." Ahem.
• Patrick Stewart spoke before the screening, but alas, I had no opportunity to see him up close or get an autograph or run away with him.
• Macbeth was very good. Watch.
• Took a cab, took the train, drove home. Did not get lost, even though it was dark and raining.
• Slept late this morning.
• The End.
  
  

Oh Good Heavens

Look at me, I have not written here in three weeks. I haven't emailed my friend Betty n Maine, either, because I am apparently not about the writing this ... now. I almost wrote "this summer", but of course, summer is over. It just feels to me like the summer vacation that never ended. Which is a good thing, albeit disorienting.

What can I tell you? I wrote a lot more when I was depressed, which I am not, so maybe that accounts for some of it. I can tell you that I have finally stopped having back-to-school dreams, and, many mornings, I actually wake up laughing.

Let's see, some updates. R's wedding is exactly one month from today. The big chore that remains for us is to make the centerpieces, which we'll be working on next weekend. Tomorrow night is her bachelorette party, which fortunately does not include me. My task for this week was to put together a "slide show" -- what is a slide show anymore, eh? -- to be shown at the rehearsal dinner. R and the SnL want no schmaltz at the wedding, i.e., no baby pictures, but his mother is in charge of the rehearsal dinner, and she wants all the schmaltz she can get, and I love doing this kind of thing. She sent me pictures and I made a six minute movie with iMovie. It's probably longer than it should be, but I don't care. It would appear that I love me the schmaltz as well. And it's done.

K is teaching, she is doing what she was trained for, and, dare I say, born for. All is well on that front. She's coming home tired, but happy.

As for me, I'm exercising again -- rode the bicycle around the block this morning -- and eating well. I'm feeling pretty good.

I haven't been writing, but I have certainly been reading, so, thanks for not dropping the ball like I did, everyone. I'll do my best to keep it up.

xoxo

Get a Look at This

I got my new knee brace today. Oy.

It's actually comfortable, because it fits and it's open. I haven't tried to get a pair of jeans on over it yet, but I'm thinking, maybe not so much. I may be looking at a whole life-style change here.

I have really jumped the first true hurdle of retirement, which was not, as I said, watching everyone else go back to school. It was getting to September 1 and seeing if we had enough money to live on. And the answer is that we squeaked through. So, huge sigh of relief here. I can be retired and enjoy it, and still get a job if I feel like it later. This is awesome.

I just made about a dozen little muffin-size turkey meatloaves and a couple of omelet sandwiches, all to freeze and seal up and have when I need them. I also have to bag up portions of a lima bean casserole I made yesterday. What can I say, I like lima beans, and I've been at a loss for vegetables to make and freeze. I guess casseroles are the way to go. One of my projects for today (or tomorrow, or whenever I feel like doing it) is to gather up all my recipes together. Now, I have two separate binders, for no reason, and a lot of loose pages. I'm thinking that if I want to cook, I'd better get myself together.

Hey, did I mention that my electric bill for August was 40% less than for July, and for August last year? Boy, that kid was expensive to have around! (Just another of the lovely surprises that my new life drops on me from time to time.)

Not a Problem

So today was supposed to be The Day. It's the first day of the school year for teachers hereabouts, and according to popular myth, today was the day I wouldn't know what to do with myself BECAUSE I AM RETIRED. Today is the day it stops being summer vacation and starts being the rest of my retired life.

So? Not a problem, not for me anyway. I did go out to breakfast with the Other Chai, a date we'd made, at her request, as soon as we decided to retire. But she's fine, too. For me, it's no different from yesterday, no different from tomorrow. All in all ... nice. Very nice.

I decided to do a Billy Mays commercial just now, because I'm doing things I never ever would even have thought of doing before, but some of my kitchen towels were not as white as I wanted them to be, and I thought, Well of course, oyy-clean. First, let me say that I am trying to cut out paper towels altogether, and after reading this somewhere, I realized that the best substitute are white towels, because you can bleach them. I have towel size ones for food (draining, etc.) and washcloth size ones for wiping up spills, cleaning, and such. My real genius *pats self on back* was figuring out where to keep them so they would be handy. I made two very little shelves by hanging bookends on the wall with stick-on velcro, and then each kind of towel sits on its shelf in a neatly folded stack.

This is all good until I realized that I have also discontinued the use of chlorine bleach here in the house. I have non-chlorine bleach, and guess what? It actually does not remove stains from white towels. Go figure. Then I remembered I had the oxy-clean from god-knows-when and I mixed up a batch and the towels are soaking in it.

How old was it? There were coupons inside that expired in 2006. I have no idea if the stuff is even still good.

My other towel invention was necessitated by this: my husband always uses a dishtowel as his napkin when he eats. It sits in his lap like a cloth napkin. Years and years ago, I stopped buying cloth napkins, because, duh, and instead got a whole lot of kitchen dishcloths to be cloth napkins. Does he use those? No. What happens instead is that I wash dishes or wash my hands and turn around and there is no towel there because he's having his dinner and so has taken the only towel that was hanging there. Husbands, eh? So I got new dishtowels -- no stains -- in black or with black stripes, and new napkin-towels in red, or with red stripes. (Before, I had both sizes in both colors.) All I know now is that there better always be a black thing hanging where I need to dry my hands. How hard should this be to figure out?

I have finished watching the first two seasons of Fringe. Very weird, liked it a lot, looking forward to season three in a few weeks.

Okay, off to the post office.

Commemoration

One hundred years ago, on August 22, 1910, Tomaso, who had already been to America several times, arrived at last to stay. This time, he brought with him from Italy his wife, Antonetta, and their three children, Concetta, Antonio, and Raffaele. Two more daughters were born later, in the United States, one of them only months after the family had arrived. Tomaso had waited until he had a good position in the United States and could provide for his family here; he had already become a citizen. He was an artisan, a craftsman who created the decorative stone pieces that adorned the outsides of great buildings.

Today, I attended a lunch gathering that included Constance's two remaining children, Tommy and Bobby, Tony's two children, Tom and Marie, and the two of Ralph's children who still live in New Jersey, Tommy and Ralphie. Five more cousins are scattered around the country, and couldn't attend. A variety of spouses and children and grandchildren were there as well. (Only three Toms were present, although I think there are more here and there, and only one Tony.)

This was so much fun. These are all such happy, friendly people; they love to laugh and they love each other. The cousins all grew up within a block of each other, from the oldest Tommy (who is known in the family as "Big" since he's the biggest Tommy) to the youngest, who wasn't there today. They were telling funny stories about their grandparents, and all their parents. Ralphie brought a marble figurine that his father had made years ago, to show everyone. Tony worked in silver; one of his grandsons carries a ring he made with his initials on it to this day. All of them were artists and craftsmen, good with their hands, and everyone is educated.

As my father-in-law once commented about his father, it's a good thing he didn't miss the boat. What wonderful lives they have made for themselves here, following their parents' and grandparents' examples.

No political motive here. It was just a really nice day, and I was lucky to be a part of it.

Wednesday, Yes?

One retirement cliche that is certainly proving true for me is that I never know what day of the week it is. I only know that I do certain things on certain days, like I get a massage on Thursdays, but I'm doing that today, since I have other plans tomorrow, so I'm all screwed up.

Tomorrow, the Hubs and I are venturing south to have lunch with his folks and a variety of other family members, a mini-reunion. Nice people, everybody likes to laugh, so that should be fun. And as it turns out, we don't have to drive, which is astonishing. I thought we might be picking up the Hubs' just-widowed aunt, but it turns out her son is picking her up, and invited us to fill out his car, so yay! Looking forward to that.

K has gone to two of the four days of her workshop -- the third day is today -- and comes home each night excited, raring to go. She talks about her lesson plans with me, and god, she's good. She not only knows her content, which is a given, she just knows how things need to be presented to kids, what methods work, what standards she wants to maintain. It's so in her blood. I'm so proud of her.

My house is so, so tidy, although I have things to put away upstairs, as it seems I'm gradually finding places up there for stuff that has always been clogging up corners and bags down here. I had planned to move all my clothes up there, but I'm re-thinking that, although I'll move some stuff. It's so nice to use the closet there for craft supplies, at least for now. It's a long-term thing, I guess. I did do one thing that I've always wanted to, a silly little thing. I have many scarves and such, some hand-made, others that I just like, and they've always spent all winter sitting in a pile on the rocking chair. The rocking chair's upstairs now, so I made an arrangement:



I guess it doesn't look like much, but it's a big step for me. I wanted to use them decoratively somehow, but the opportunities are limited, since the house is so small. (The plaid one on the right, btw, was bought for me by my grandmother when I was about six. Somewhere in the house is another scarf that she made for me when I was about 4 and was taught to knit or crochet; it was her first project, and is perfect. I'll look for that, and hang that up, too.)

I need to eat some kind of breakfast here, but I'm lazy today. My default lazy breakfast is an Egg McMuffin with no meat, and I only eat one side of the bread. Meh. I wonder if there's something better at the Barnes and Noble cafe -- B&N is my first stop today; the FIL wants a history of Bizarro Town that's part of a series of New Jersey towns and he must have lost the copy I gave him a few years ago that was signed by the author. I could hit Whole Foods next, since it's near Target and the massage place, my next stops. Actually, at the moment, I think I should go wherever I can get food the fastest. McDonalds is looking better and better.

I'm off.

I Think I'll Rant Today

I want to talk about this whole issue of the mosque that some people want to build near the site of the destroyed World trade Center. I understand that some of you will not agree with me, and that's fine. It's more than fine. It's what I'm talking about, in fact.

First, the issue. Some Muslim group wants to build a mosque, a Muslim house of worship, in Lower Manhattan, near the site now known as "Ground Zero," the place the World Trade Center stood before it was destroyed by Muslim terrorists.

Is this a good idea? I don't think so. If the Muslim group who wants to build has ties to radical Islam, well, then it's just mean, and intended as a slap in the face to Americans. If this is not a group tied to radical Islam, and it's a moderate, normal American group of Muslims who want to worship there to show solidarity with non-Muslim Americans, and to show that they only want peace, well then, it wasn't well thought out because it's clearly not working, and they should withdraw. In fact, I think the city of New York should zone that entire area as non-suitable for religious institutions, and solve the whole problem for all time.

Does the Muslim group currently have the right to build a mosque anywhere not forbidden by zoning laws? Of course they do. The group that is planning to go to Ground Zero and burn copies of the Koran, the Muslim holy book, in protest? I suppose they have the right to do that as well, but it is disgusting and as anti-American thing as I can imagine anyone doing. It looks like the pictures of Nazis burning synagogues on Kristallnacht, the night of the anti-Jewish pogroms that led to the end of Jews in Germany and other parts of Europe.

And you know what else it looks like? It looks like the wars between the French monarchy in defense of Catholicism and the Huguenots, the French protestants who only wanted to practice their religion in peace, although most of them were eventually forced to leave France in the 1600's. It looks like the English monarchy's persecution of Catholics after Henry VIII declared that England was a Protestant country. It looks like any and every other religious persecution we have seen in the world and in this country. It looks bad, and it looks un-Constitutional.

From Wikipedia (but it's a no-brainer, anyone could say this): The Constitution of the United States of America is the supreme law of the United States. The first amendment to the Constitution, also from Wikipedia, is

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

This means that the government sees no one religion as paramount over any other; all religions must be treated equally under our Constitution. If current laws allow a church to be built near Ground Zero, then a mosque must be allowed to be built as well, no matter how badly thought out a plan it is. Not only will the government not support one religion over another, it can't do anything to stop anyone from worshiping as s/he pleases. As for the protest, if their protest is peaceful, the first amendment protects them, too; it even protects their right to say any stupid thing they want to. (And your right to disagree with me, and vice-versa.) It does not protect their right to commit violence at that assembly, which I presume the burning of a holy book would be, or at least, would provoke.

I wonder how these same protesters would react if Muslim groups in another country burned copies of the Bible? Not well, I think. How do we feel we hear about American Christian missionaries in other countries being persecuted? But it's the same thing. If you want to see if something is morally right, imagine turning the tables, and see how it makes you feel.

Muslim terrorists are terrorists, just as Catholic and Protestant terrorists in Northern Island a generation ago were terrorists. What distinguishes these people is their politics, not their religion. Most Muslim people, like most people who self-identify as Catholic or Protestant or Jewish or Hindu or Sikh, are pretty much just people. Most of them do not follow the more radicalized, violence-supporting aspects of the faith, just as most followers of other religions do not. If you read the Old Testament, the ancient Hebrews could be pretty vicious at times. If you look at the history of the world for the last 2000 years, there's been an awful lot of violence and mayhem done in the name of Christianity. Do any of us really think that this is what Christianity stands for? Read the New Testament; it certainly isn't remotely what Jesus stood for. And yet it's been done, many times. The Spanish Inquisition leaps immediately to mind. (You weren't expecting that, were you? No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. heh heh.)

Perhaps I will rant another day on the absurdity that is now taking place in Arizona. It appalls and disgusts me as well. A former colleague of mine has got me on his email list -- he is a dear, sweet, gentle man; I don't know where he gets this crap or why he supports it -- about welfare queens who are illegal immigrants while disabled veterans get shat upon. If it's true, well you know what? The illegal immigration isn't the problem, the welfare and V.A. systems are. *sigh* Another day for immigration, perhaps.

Friday Afternoon

It's 1:30. The cleaning people arrived a little after 9:30. They're still here.

We must be pigs.

In fact, they are doing a lot of deep cleaning, like scrubbing one of the heating vents that's always been dusted, but never really washed. The bathroom ceiling is clean. They're not just wiping down the woodwork, they're washing it.

Even so, I'm ashamed to look them in the eye.

But I do want them to come back every other week, from now on until forever, and keep everything clean. It's nice, really nice. It's something that I never, ever really had the time to do myself. Would I have done it if I had the time? It's a mystery.

I look back to my childhood and remember helping with the cleaning under my mother's direction. She had someone come in to clean from time to time, but mostly not. I dusted and I vacuumed, because I had no choice. My most hated task of all was brushing and combing the steps. Yes. The carpet on the steps to upstairs had grown thinner over the years, and vacuuming there, while difficult, was mostly ineffective. So she sat me down at the top of the steps and gave me a stiff plastic brush and my job was to brush the dirt and lint out of the carpet on each step -- there were six -- and then vacuum the steps and of course the floor at the bottom. Gaaaagh. I hated this above all. Combing the steps. I was pretty sure that none of my little friends got stuck with that one.

I wonder how much longer they're going to be here? One woman was in the kitchen alone for three hours! And they haven't even gotten started on the family room yet.

Oh, she just came in with all her dusters and spray bottles. This is an ecologically friendly cleaning service, btw, so there's none of the typical cleaners and the house doesn't smell bad, just clean. And now, in addition to thinking I'm a filthy pig, she knows that I watch Yes, Dear in the afternoon, and this woman has no respect for me whatsoever, I'm sure.

Pre-Cleaning

So my big task for today was pre-cleaning, that is, making sure the house is clean before the cleaning service comes tomorrow. I hope you all know that this definitely does not mean that I dusted and vacuumed, heaven forfend. I tidied up to the nth degree so that the cleaning people can get to whatever they need to get to. One of the reasons I stopped having cleaning people come in years ago was that they couldn't do either of the girls' rooms because you couldn't wade in through the foot tall pile of stuff and even find the floor, let alone vacuum it. And what was there to dust? The crap on the floor? Because the dresser and any other surfaces were piled high with make-up, scraps of this and that, and homework that was never turned in.

This was really one of the things I wanted most in retirement: someone to come in and clean. Yes, I do have the time now, and I even have the inclination. I just don't have the energy. I can't bend over for more than a minute or two, and even that leaves me breathless, so things like scrubbing a tub are out. And I don't even have the arm strength anymore to scrub a tub. If I have to get a part-time job (after the wedding) to continue to pay for a cleaning service, I will do just that.

Speaking of a part-time job, I know exactly what I want to do, if it should come to that. I want to work in an Apple Store. (You'd think I would have seen that coming, eh?) I could work as a concierge, or just a general person who gets people started and then leads them to the right person to help them, or I could, in fact, teach people how to use programs and stuff. I would have to learn much more about the programs to be able to teach them, but I certainly now how to teach people to use computers; I've been doing that for 25 years. And I could wear whatever I want and throw a blue Apple t-shirt over it, and probably do it part-time. And even if I work the occasional Saturday, or even a couple Saturdays a month, I know that as long as I work here in Bergen County, I'll always have Sundays off.

My videos have been a little goofy, yes? I don't know if the second one posted yesterday or not, but I think not. I shall limit myself to one a day then. It's so much easier to use the phone and the blogger app; everything happens automatically. I got a cute little app that makes the videos look like old home movies, so perhaps I shall treat you to one of those soon.

The wedding approacheth, invitations will be going out next week. Over 150 people are being invited, about 40 of them from our side. That's all we've got. We could expand to include the Hubs' cousins, I suppose, but that would actually be ... ten more people, most of whom we are not close with. We've been invited to some of their events, but none of their children's events -- okay, a couple of Bar Mitzvahs for one cousin -- and neither of our children have been invited to anything of theirs. Whereas my cousins, and I don't have many, include my children in all things. Plus, the Hubs has aunts and uncles who are coming, and I have no one left in that generation in my family, so my cousins are all the family I've got. And I only have ... nine of them to invite, and that includes four children. (I'm inviting another cousin, as well as my OldFriend, but I know that neither of them is coming.) I have about one table's worth of my close friends, and eight alone of our side consists of my sister's children and their significant others. Not to mention two to four guests who probably won't be coming for medical reasons. Oy. I'm so happy R is getting married, and to such a wonderful man, but the wedding business I could do without. *sigh* As long as she's happy, though, right?

I'm reading the first Artemis Fowl book (a middle school book) and not liking it at all. Why is this series so popular? And why isn't Mockingjay here yet?

Project Runway in ten minutes. Will they finally get rid of Casanova tonight? What an idiot!

Let's See If This Works

Could it be ..?

Ok, then!

Rainy Days and Mondays

Today is both a rainy day and a Monday, but it's far from getting me down. I imagine this will be the last entry I post from my dearly beloved computer, Maxx the Mac, as Maxx will be going into retirement (just like me!) later today. The Apple Store opens at 10:00, and I'm going there this morning to buy my MacBook Pro, courtesy of those last 25 sick days I didn't take. (Imagine what I could get if I had had hundreds of sick days left, like most other people!) I was going to get the biggest hard drive I could -- 320g -- remembering the old advice that you get the most memory you can afford. And then I thought and thought and thought, and I also need iPhone memory. Hmmm. So I thought about the 250g hard drive, which saves $300, and a 16g iPhone, which is $199. And that's what I'm going to do. With any luck, the new iPhone will be ready to go when I leave the store, with all my stuff on it, since I could be without Maxx or Pro Maxx for a day or two, while they copy over my docs and settings. I'm not trading in either of my older devices, since I won't get that much for them. I'll reformat Maxx and reinstall the operating system, and have s spare upstairs for quick Internet lookups. As for the old phone, I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

Pro Maxx has a webcam. Heh heh.

What a Nice Day This Was

Well, I recorded something for y'all but it didn't upload. I must resort to typing words. With my fingers. How quaint.

So I am just loving this whole doing-what-I-feel-like-doing-or-not thing they call retirement. Today, I did the food shopping early, then went to A.C. Moore to get some frames and like that, and then ...

I went to the Apple Store and priced out my new toy, which I will go back and buy on Monday, after getting all the files on my current computer ready to go. [rubs hands together in glee, like Snidely Whiplash]

And then I went for a short bike ride, just to see if I could do it. And I could, and did. And lived to tell the tale. Haven't been on a bike in 20 years.

The New Baby

Here are some pictures of the new grandcat, Otto.

He's a very sweet little boy, very cuddly and smart.

-- Post From My iPhone

And Now For Something Completely Different

It's an experiment. It doesn't work properly on my computer, which is one of the reasons I'm getting a new computer, but it might work on yours.

I Deserve a Sticker

I finished all my homework today, and it's only Thursday. Yes, the gifts for the shower are wrapped, the little details I needed to do -- print things for the centerpieces, etc. -- are all done, and most of all, I finished the wishing well.

Is the wishing well something that people do everywhere? Sometimes people rent an actual fru-fru wishing well from a party store, all done up in crepe paper, sometimes it's a basket, and in this case, I went overboard. (More to follow.) Anyway, the idea is that if it's, say, a kitchen shower, then in addition to the gift each guest brings, each guest brings (it's optional, actually) a small kitchen gadget, like a can opener, and tosses it into the wishing well unwrapped, no name. If there's another theme, the wishing well can go with that. We're having a gift card wishing well, which we did for Wonderful Niece five years ago. In addition to the gift, each guest may bring a gift card to almost anywhere, in a small amount. (I think I explained this before, but I'm on a roll.)

So, this shower is being held in a Cuban themed restaurant. This is what I made to be the wishing well:



See, tropical fruit, rum, seashells? Gift cards? Anyway, that's it. I wish it were Monday.

My cold is better but not gone. I have rented an adorable little minivan for Sunday. And tomorrow I prepare to bring my sewing machine upstairs, at long last.

I'm Still Good

It's only been three days since my last post, so I'm good, and not AWOL. Sick, but not AWOL.

Sick as in I have a cold, which I hoped was just allergies, but it's not, because I wheeze when I breathe. But I saw the doctor today for something else -- regular GI follow up -- and he wasn't alarmed, so I guess I'm fine. Just waiting for it to pass. And drinking lots of tea.

I also made dinner tonight, just for me, and it was good, and I actually stood at the stove and cooked ingredients I chopped up, as opposed to opening a box and pressing buttons on the microwave. A step forward for me.

Tomorrow I have LOTS of stuff to do for Sunday's shower, and then that will be over, not soon enough. Events like this are just too stressful until I know that they've been successfully staged and are over. I was always like this when I ran the junior prom, although over the course of 15 years, it stressed me less because I had the routine down. And yes, I know, the actual wedding is coming. I should be a joy then. But all I care about is that R won't be stressed that day (even though I know she will be.)

Have I mentioned that we now have only one car? Mr. Natural walks whenever he can, including a six mile trip (six miles each way) back and forth to work every day. He will permit me to drive him when it's raining, or when he's working late, like tonight. (It's almost 7:00; I'm waiting for his text.) I don't mind this at all. However, as is usual with his earth-friendly and eccentric crap, he always like to think it isn't impacting anyone else, but it always is. For example.

Sunday. Shower. MIL coming to the shower, but cannot leave the FIL alone. Expects the Hubs to be there with the FIL until she returns. All cool. Except, of course, that I have to get to the shower, too, have many large items to bring with me, and will be bringing along the Sibs, Wonderful Niece, and Niece's twin brother's wife. Hmm. Last night, the Hubs was ranting about having to buy a car just to see his parents -- which I know I would have had to do in the same situation with my parents -- and the potential horror of having to rent a car just for Sunday, but you know what? I think I will just rent a damn car for Sunday. One with lots of room.

Still waiting for his text, but I am calm. A little light-headed due to the cold, but otherwise, happy as a clam.

Here I Am

Retirement is hard work.

So far, I've spent a lot of time and energy helping K move out and into her own place, which is now accomplished. That means I got to start putting my own house in order. I had carpets cleaned and furniture moved, and I've moved a lot of stuff myself. By the end of this week, I hope to have my sewing machine moved upstairs, too. And R's shower is next Sunday; once that's over, I'm relatively free for a while.

I have been terrible about writing, not just here, but in answering emails and such. I've just taken care of that, so now I'm caught up. One less thing to feel guilty about. I haven't been reading much either, since I finished The Millennium Trilogy, which I find happens to me after I've read some powerful writing. My next goal is to re-read the first two books in the Hunger Games series before the third one comes out in August.

I've been killing lots of time on getglue.com, which is a social networking site based not on people, but on what you like to read, watch, etc. If you're a getgluer (or not), my homepage over there is http://getglue.com/RLibrin, if you're remotely interested in what books, movies, tv I like. It's kind of like Amazon recommendations, but on a larger scale.

The heat here is horrible, of course, but I think not different from what most of you are experiencing. We had a tornado watch Friday night, which is not so common for here; there was a tornado to the southwest, not so far away. I heard the rain, saw the lightning, and watched the weather reports, but did not sit on the couch shaking in fear the way I used to. Ah, the magic of modern medicine.

BTW, even though I haven't been writing, or even commenting much, I have been faithfully reading. I shall endeavor to improve the frequency of my communications in future.

It's Been a Busy Week

I'm glad that I'm retired now and able to take it easy.

Not.

This week has been hectic, busy, all kinds of things. I've had little or no downtime until I lie down at night, and even then, I read for an hour or more until I can sleep (although I've been sleeping well.) Between both girls moving and all of the plans surrounding the wake and funeral, I've been on my toes. Not stressed at all, but always on the move.

I know that funeral arrangements vary in different parts of the country (not to mention the world), and of course by religion, but last Friday we were at the wake (sometimes called the visitation) from two to four and then again from seven to nine. Saturday morning we were again at the funeral home for an hour and then went in the line of cars to the church for the funeral mass, and then to the cemetery, and then to the repast, which is a luncheon. Because this was really the first death in the Hubs' family for maybe 35 years, it's a chain of events I haven't really gone through before. We're also on alert again because another of his uncles -- he has two left -- is inching towards the end, but this time, I assume, there will be rituals closer to what I know, since this uncle is also Jewish. So that's a funeral with a brief service within a day or two of the actual death, followed by a shiva call, which is a visit to the family home a day or two after that. It's like a wake, but after the fact.

Otherwise, I've been shopping and schlepping with K most of the time. Tomorrow she'll be at work -- she's done with this museum job next week -- and I'll be at her new place waiting for the cable installer. My sister said to me before, "You know, Lincoln emancipated you." And I said, "He will on Saturday."

Saturday. On Saturday, I will begin to re-arrange, to clean, to re-organize everything, the whole house just for the two of us. This is not empty-nest syndrome, oh how sad. This is more like It's about freaking time. I'm really looking forward to this. If only R's bridal shower were behind us, too, but that's August 1. Once that's over, I'm on my own, my time is my own, I can spend my days doing my own stuff, not someone else's. Very cool.

It's Over.

Peace, dear man.

Quick Update

I must remember that if I do this more often, I won't feel like I have so much to say that I'm intimidated by it, and keep putting it off.

Short story: our uncle was taken off life support two days ago and since that time he has been breathing on his own. On the one hand, this is certainly unbelievable, and on another, it's so like him. He has come back several times from dire circumstances, although never as dire as this. One of his sons says he's just stubborn; maybe that's it. At this point, everyone is still waiting. My heart is breaking for our aunt and her sons, who are all at his side constantly.

Nothing else to report that beats that; just days passing in lovely retirement. The difference for me between this and a normal summer vacation is, as I explained to someone earlier today, that now I feel severed from the high school, not just separated for a time. I feel retired. All good.

I was watching that show Clean House before, and if that doesn't put the fear of god (or whatever it is I fear) into the heart of a saver of everything, I don't know what will. My house is nothing at all like these hoarders' houses, not even my basement, but the thought of ever living like that is terrifying. Each day so far, I've been able to clean out one corner or area or cabinet, and I won't stop until I'm done. It feels very, very good to be taking care of all this stuff that I put off and said I'd do someday when I retired. Hah.

I finished the first two books in the Millenium Trilogy (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire) and I'll start the third one (The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest) when I go to bed later. Excellent books; I recommend them to all.

In the meantime, I've finally opened a second iTunes library -- that's been on my list of chores for a few years -- and I'm copying all my classical music into it. Shouldn't take more than a week, unless I do nothing else in which case I'll be done by tomorrow night. But tomorrow I'm going to see R's new apartment, and then driving from there to K's place to see how long it takes, which route is best, so on. Hope the traffic isn't too bad. At least I'll be going the wrong way on the Parkway for that (which is to say, south on a Sunday afternoon, too late for people to be driving down to the shore, and the wrong way for people driving back.)

More than I thought I would write. Happy birthday America to everyone!

Updating

I've been retired for a week now, and you know what? It's nice.

I've had a few unstructured days so far (i.e., with no doctor appointments) and I have kept myself entertained and busy and have not spent whole days eating. So, all good. I'm nearly finished with The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which I didn't know if I'd like, but it sucked me in. My sleeping at night is mostly horrible, but I'm also weaning off a muscle relaxer I've been taking for about a year, so disturbed sleep is to be expected.

Just about twenty minutes ago, I took an odd phone call from the ILs. The subject of the conversation -- the first half of it -- was certainly sad. The Hubs' dear uncle is to be taken off life support tomorrow. After that, the MIL asked me if I was okay, because I didn't sound too peppy. Uh, hello? Didn't you just tell me that someone we all love very much is going to die tomorrow? How peppy should I sound? And then the FIL asked me again to spell out the name of K's new school for him. Okay, I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is something that doesn't connect for the Hubs and his family (his parents and his sister, that family) when it comes to death. Either they don't get it all, or it doesn't bother them at all, and I know the latter is not the case, because the MIL still cries when anyone mentions her father, who was killed in a car accident in 1956.

I am so glad that Uncle Al will find his peace tomorrow, and go on to the heaven he believes in, if such things do occur. I'm picturing him sitting around a table with lots of angels and stuff, all with coffee and good cake in front of them, and he's telling stories and bungling the punchline, as always, and all of them, including him, are laughing their asses off. If you hear giggling from above tomorrow, you'll know he's there.

Nes Gadol Haya Po

As anyone can tell you, "Nes Gadol Haya Po", the words symbolized on a Chanukah dreidel, mean "A Great Miracle Happened Here." And so it has.

Earlier today, maybe around one, K came downstairs from her room and asked me if I wanted to help her -- help her! -- clean the basement. And so we did. The major challenge of my entire retirement, the next 20 or 30 years, and we did it. We didn't finish it, of course, but after we throw out the garbage on Monday and then move all her crap to her new place in a couple of weeks, and move the spare bed down there upstairs, it will no longer be a challenge. At that point, it will be tidying up and organizing, no big deal, an hour here or there for a few weeks. And then, as my father used to ask me to clean my room when I was a kid, it will be pretty enough for a magazine to come and take a picture of.

It's a beautiful thing.

In other news, I guess I've decided to get some new clothes that fit, and lucky for me, Old Navy is having a big sale, and I am wearing size 10 jeans! Which is good, because I was pretty much wearing 14s until now, and they were falling off me when I walked. The worst part of all this is that I have to give up my beloved denim shirts, of which I have several, because they're all mens mediums, and I'm not anymore. :( They're so soft, just the way I like them. My eldest nephew is in visiting from California and I think they might fit him, so at least I know they'll have a good home.

Otherwise, things are nice and slow, just the way I like them.

And ... Done.

Yesterday was emotional, sad, happy, and wonderful. Really, how bad a day can it be when dozens of people keep telling you that they love you?

So, I am retired. I embarked on my first day of retirement thusly:

I went to the drive-in window at the bank. I couldn't pull out straight onto the street because there was roadwork there, so I backed up out of the drive-in lane and took my driver's side outside mirror clean off. Hmm. I picked it up and put in the car, and drove the block to my mechanic's, where I have an appointment for service on Monday anyway; I wanted them to be able to order the part in advance.

I ran numerous errands and then went for a physical with the new doctor. All is well; she found me remarkably healthy for someone with as many ailments as I have and who is on as much medication as I am. Then I went to the lab for bloodwork and an EKG. I'll leave out every little detail, but the EKG printed out that I was currently having a myocardial infarction, which I clearly was not having, and the doctor had just pronounced me in good health, and I felt totally fine. So, no, I wasn't having a heart attack, although I'm guessing their EKG machine was. I have a regular visit to the cardiologist next week and I'm sure he'll do another one.

Tomorrow I have another doctor, and my massage, and then I want to do a little of K's packing in the living room to make room for more. Oh, did I mention that R and the SnL have also found a new apartment, and will actually be moving a week before K moves? So that's both of them moving within the next ... month, I guess it is. Oy.

I took a couple of parting pictures of the high school, but I don't have them on the computer yet, so I'll post those next time. I spent the last two days upgrading the phone to ios4 and converting and uploading books, and such. But I forgot to do the pictures.

I'm going to read a magazine now, because I can.

Sunday

I wanted to show you my retirement gift, but by the end of Friday's post, I was in no condition for pictures or anything else. Anyway, here it is:


They gave all seven of us keys, but each one is different. The teacher who presented them said something about keys to the rest of our lives, yada, yada, but in fact, it's a lovely symbol and a lovely idea. They've never had this many at once before, so there was never any thought of a theme for the gifts. Most of the women's were more ornate than mine, which means that personal thought was put into each one, since I only wear simple jewelry. The best thing about mine is that, without actually meaning to, they got me one with a hidden Mickey in it! So I love it, of course. The one gentleman in our group, who is well known for his service in Special Forces during Vietnam, got a dog-tag with the cutout of a key on it.

Last night the Hubs and I went out dinner with the future in-laws, and really? It was delightful. It was very relaxed, we have a lot to talk about with each other, and nothing awkward about the wedding ever came up. We did banter a bit about how when a baby comes, we'll be fighting each other for 24/7 presence, hah hah, but listen, that baby's mommy is my daughter, y'know?

Anyway, so that's the father's day update for today; happy father's day to you and yours out there. K is making a vegan dinner for her daddy later on, a lovely thought. I'm going to get to my regular Sunday morning bookkeeping tasks.

Almost

Well, I've had a week. I got misty here and there, sad a little bit, but mostly it was okay. Here and there, it's been incredible.

I have two more days, Monday and Tuesday, until my teaching career is over. I know that's a dramatic way to put it, but that's what it is. This whole process since April has been pretty strange, but this week has been very surreal. I know next week will be even more so.

Let's see if I can hit the highlights. The school dinner was Wednesday; there were seven retirees honored. All but one are what we are calling "the Christie retirees," in other words, people who were bullied into retiring by the governor, as I was. Only one of the high school's seven retirees this year had the luxury of deciding on her own and in her own time that she was ready to retire this year.

Anyway, the dinner was great. I had good friends there, my two speeches -- one for the Other Chai and one for myself -- were well received, as were her two (one for her and one for me.) I had a lot of good laughs, and good food, and we made our escape as soon as dinner was over and they started pounding the loud music for dancing.

Last night, I went to the monthly dinner attended by former teachers at the high school; i.e., the retirees' dinner, and as of now, I'm no longer an honorary member. Some people were there who live farther away and rarely make it, and it was great to see them.

Okay. Today.

Deep breath.

First thing this morning, two of my favorite students, sisters, came in with a camera and wanted to get a picture of me with them. Yes, I'm choking up now. They have my email address; I expect to get a copy, which perhaps I will post. I adore these girls. One is graduating this year anyway, and the other is so disappointed that I won't be "her librarian" for the next three years.

The principal and I finished interviewing for my job this morning, and we agreed that the only contender is the middle school librarian in town, who has been a friend of mine for 25 years. Our kids were in daycare together. So I'm passing my life's work off into capable hands. Yes, I'm crying now.

Midday, a woman, a visitor, came into the library schlepping a big rubbermaid-type trunk. I asked if I could help her. She said the class of 1990 was having a reunion this weekend, and she was there to pick up their time capsule. I said that I remembered the class of '90 well, and what was her name?

She had been one of my junior class officers, but I didn't recognize her all grown up. She was beautiful. She's a teacher, she has three children. (Twenty years ago, OMG!) I asked her about so many of the others, and asked her to give them my love at the reunion, and I said I was glad she'd stumbled upon the new library in her travels through the building. No, she said, she looked for the library so she could see me. I thanked her and hugged her, and said how extra special this was because I was retiring next week. Oh, she was stunned. She hugged me again, and when I thanked her, she said, No, she thanks me, for everything.

Yes, now the tears are running down my face.

You know, through all this, this is the first time I've known the release of tears. Not because I'm that sad, but because, I just have to say: today was the day that I knew for sure, felt for certain, that the last 33 years actually meant something. I mattered. Lots of emotions there, and the tears are helping me release them.

Despite what our governor says about the lazy greedy teachers and all that, there are actually very few rewards in teaching, or at least, the real rewards are very few and far between. Today I got the biggest payoff of my career.

It was worth it, all of it.

'Morning.

It's Monday morning, I'm at work. I recovered somewhat from Strange Saturday, although I'm still tired, and haven't slept well since then, although I haven't had freaky sleep either. Just not enough. I'm remembering to take my meds, anyway.

Yesterday, the Hubs and I went briefly to a party. Someone I work with who's retiring had it at her home, which is not far from ours, so we walked. It wasn't a pretty day, gray skies, humid, and very buggy. She had a tent over her yard, but we left after about an hour because the humidity was getting to me. Although it was really a very nice little party. But the good thing is that the Hubs and I walked there and back, and I even walked back without my knee brace on and I was okay. Very worn out by the time we got home, but that was mostly the humidity. And we beat the storm by perhaps a minute; it started to come down as soon as we got back in our house.

There is very, very little for me to do here in the library at this point. The kids are taking finals this week, so I won't see many of them in the library, and anyone who does come in will be studying, and won't need my help. I can't start any projects, since I won't' be here to finish them. I've taken everything home that's mine except for the things in one bag, which I have in a desk drawer. The last things I'll take home are my spare sweater (which is a varsity letter sweater with my name on it, from my junior class advisor days), a small framed picture of my parents, a small stuffed Sebastian (from the Little Mermaid) and my Disney World ruler. Everything else is already gone.

The yearbook came out on Friday, and I got the library's copy today. (There's a rumor that each retiree is getting one at no cost, but I have no idea if that's true.) There are two pictures of me in this yearbook, both horrid, especially the one taken before I lost weight, but there's something very nice written about me on the retirees' page. I'm sure it was written by the yearbook co-advisor (who is also the drama club advisor) because he's said things like this to me over the years. I don't know how accurate it is, but it is nice.

There's an hour til lunch, and then we have an hour for that, since it's finals week, and I need to run out and do some of the things I never got to on Saturday. The big errand, which wasn't ready to do Saturday anyway, is to go get the invitations printed for the shower. Wonderful Niece's husband made an adorable graphic for the front, and the invitation is very simple, just two on a page and then folded, but K thinks it should be on cardstock, and I can't trust the library's laser printer not to crunch it up, so I'll go to Kinko's or someplace.

Our weather is dismal, and is really putting a dismal cloak over everything. There's no sun, it's humid and sticky, but not terribly hot, only 69 degrees at the moment. So it just feels icky out there, and the air in the library is stagnant; I guess it's not hot enough to trigger the a/c.

Oy. Six more days.

Terrible, Horrible, Etc.

It was a very weird night for me last night. Consequently, I am not myself today, consequently we are not going to that wedding we were supposed to go to tonight. What happened was, I fell asleep last night before taking my night-time meds, which include my allergy med, as well as the stuff that makes me sleep like a normal human being.

But if I fell asleep, you're thinking, do I really need that stuff? Oh, my. I believe I do. I fell asleep around ten, and slept until about 12:30. During this time, I apparently slept, because I had some strange and vivid dreams. First, I dreamed I had to pee. Now, this happens to me from time to time, and after peeing about three times in dreamland, my real brain gets it, and I wake up and I go. But last night, I was not waking up, even after maybe six or seven times of finding a bathroom and going in dreamland, and here's why. I didn't want to wake up. Other than the peeing thing, I was having the best dream ever.

This dream, like all the dreams I had last night, took place in my parents' house, the one I grew up in. Like all the dreams I had last night, it started with me sleeping in bed next to the Hubs, although I'm not sure what bedroom it was. In the dream, I woke up in this bed because, of course, I had to pee, but I couldn't find the bathroom. Then I realized what house it was, and I knew there were three bathrooms there, so I could find one to use. (There were really only two in that house, including one in the basement that we never used.) In the dream, I found the bathroom, peed, and came out into the same house, but in the past. It was maybe the mid-seventies, but I was still the current me. I went into the dining room, and sitting at the table were my parents, and my Aunt Rose and Uncle Ben, all looking like they did back then, which is to say, in their fifties, so, young. None of them looked like senior citizens; no one had gray hair or were in any way infirm. In the dream, I was all choked up, and knew this had to be a dream, but it was wonderful. I sat down at the table, but after a moment, I asked my mother to get up, and I got up too, and I hugged and hugged her. (I'm tearing up as I type this.) It felt incredibly real.

As the dream went on, I was still in that house and looking for a bathroom, and now I was looking for the family again, too; I wanted to hug all of them, or at least see them smile, as I had when I first came across them. Eventually, I woke up, for real, and got up and found the real bathroom, for real. I couldn't wait to go back to sleep; maybe I would dream about them again.

Did. Not. Happen. For the next several hours, I tossed and turned, hot and cold, hot and cold, awake and asleep, again and again. I saw all hours of the clock, but I slept for minutes at a time, here and there. After five, I got up again, found the bathroom again, and fell back to sleep. And had one of the worst dreams ever.

Again, in the dream, I was asleep, in that same unknown bedroom in my old house. (All night, each time I would wake up, I would have to look around the room to see where I really was, because that bedroom was getting pretty creepy.) This time, when I woke up, I went into the kitchen, where the Hubs was standing. It was maybe six in the morning and he was wearing a suit. "What?" I said. "What happened?" He wouldn't tell me, so I said "Oh! Who died?" remembering the uncles. (The really sick uncle, btw, has actually improved a great deal, and was discharged from the hospital yesterday, in real life.) And in the dream, the Hubs said "My father." And I screamed "WHAT!!!!"

So, in the dream, he told me that his parents were out in the car, his father was driving (at which point, in the dream, I said to myself, This is dream, he doesn't drive anymore) and they were caught in the crossfire of a high speed police chase. His father was shot in the head, the car was totaled, his mother walked away from it. At this point in the dream, I was screaming.

K got up, but the Hubs wouldn't tell her what happened, until finally, I forced him to, and he told her that her cousins -- the ones on his side, a niece and a nephew around my kids' ages -- were killed in a car accident last night. K started to scream and I was screaming "WHAT WHAT YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT!!" and then he told K that her grandfather was killed last night too.

At which point I woke up for real and was absolutely terrified to go back to sleep. But I was exhausted, and it was maybe six in the morning for real, and I spent the next two hours dropping off and thenwaking myself up immediately, again and again and again.

Can you tell I'm still shaken?

It was only when I finally forced myself to get up after eight that I saw my pills from last night still on my desk. So I didn't sleep soundly enough to get true REM sleep, just enough and long enough to freak me out. And I didn't take my allergy pill, which is why I've been a big giant hive all day, a big giant hive with a runny nose.

I felt like I was buzzed all day, still do. I didn't attempt to drive or do a single errand; the only thing I was up to was laundry, and only towels. I was reluctant to pay any bills or lay out my meds for the week. (Yes, I have old-person pill containers, for each day and all that.) But I did, because I had to take my lunch pills, and I had to call the pharmacy and renew what I'm out of.

So, no wedding tonight for us. (The guy getting married is someone the Hubs used to work with; they get together to watch basketball a couple of times a year.) I don't think I would trust myself not to fall in the shower. I don't feel bad or sick, as such, just not all there, and shaky. And itchy. You wouldn't believe how many typos I've corrected in putting this together.

But I had to, I had to get it out. I did share a lot of it with the Hubs this morning, but I was still so out of it then, I have no idea what I even said. At least when I told him I dreamed that his father was shot in the course of a high speed police chase, he chuckled. (I softened the story a little when I told him. But I wanted him to know what had me so shaken up.)

So that's how I've been spending my Saturday. I think I may be ready to attempt to wash some actual clothes now, but I'm not paying any bills online until tomorrow, just to be on the safe side.