Like the Wicked Witch of the East, I have been feeling like a house has fallen on my head. Not in a bad way, really, just loads of various occurrences forming an event horizon with ground zero in my living room.
1. Cruise - GREAT! Loved every minute of it and am already considering another trip next summer. Perhaps the Scandanavian region.... Only downside was that I got a cold on the trip and it lasted the entire voyage.
2. Cold - The cold that wracked me on the cruise exploded when I got home. This was likely facilitated by the 38 hours without sleep that I endured during the homeward travel. I felt like an exploding water balloon and found myself returning to couch confinement for a few days while I emptied my head and chest of mucous and engaged in Olympic-level power napping.
3. Preparing for work - school starts next week and I am woefully behind in my preparations. Normally, I get a jump-start on the next schoolyear as the old year ends. This past year found me missing the terminal 1 1/2 months of work, so I accomplished nada. So, I now have to make sure that I have sufficient curriculum ready for the first week....
4. Continuing with the medical train ride - Back to that particular grindstone. Further meetings with my hematologist/oncologist and treks to Mass General Hospital have found continued enlarged liver, chronic anemia and, a new wrinkle, depressed antibody levels. The cause? They still don't know, but they're still working on it with gusto!
But, the biggest event is that I have a new man in my life. Dark and handsome. Silent type, too. Very smart, fun, active. Not the biggest guy around - tops the scales at 3 lbs right now. Already, we are the star couple in town and EVERYONE loves him. His name - Perkunas. The best little puppy in the world...
Went shopping for shoes one day at the mall and passed the pet store window. There he was - an all-black toy poodle puppy. Energetic, with a gleam in his little black eyes. I had no choice - the energies of the universe simply overtook my body and moved me through the procedure of purchase. Of course, I also had to get all of the items that one needs to own a dog, and also some luxuries such as a car seat and a very stylish carry bag. We go shopping and run errands all the time and he is the perfect dog to tote around department stores as he really doesn't bark unless he is very excited, so he goes quite unnoticed by store personnel. His first vet trip provided him with a glowing health certificate, which made me very proud...
He is smart and loves people and other animals. Independent, yet enjoys down-time on the couch with me. I have already enrolled him in day care for when I start school again. We stopped by for him to visit the other dogs in the program and he had the best time playing with them, although they are all larger than is he. The only negative aspect is that his romping will make for a daily dirty doggie...fortunately, he likes his bathtime.
So, I have had little free time to do anything but reconnect with the medical community, prepare for work and create my new family routine. I am actually looking forward to the start of the school year. Forced structure of time - not always a bad thing...
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Thursday, August 04, 2005
The Empty Suitcase
Is there anything in the world more mocking than the open, empty suitcase? You stand before it clutching your carefully prepared packing list like a sword of power and are promptly reduced to a quivering mass of insecurity and indecision. All the time spent researching weather patterns, details of shore excursions, professionally-prepared packing guidelines amount to nothing when staring into the Great Nothingness.
You roust the suitcase from its slumber and, with great (perhaps over-) confidence, you fling it open. The energy of empowerment that you have built over the preceding few days fills you to the point where you practically glow with capability. Every eventuality predicted, evaluated and managed. All necessary items carefully inventoried. Outfits have been planned to masterfully match the weather and planned occasions. Multitasking is the name of the game and with efficiency that would be envied by the most stereotypical Swiss, a complete cruise vacation has been designed to fit into a single rolling carryon and a shoulder pack.
Yeah, right.
Suddenly the dark power of the empty suitcase sends its soul-draining tendrils through your skin and into your spine. You become convinced that you have coincidentally forgotten everything and overplanned. All of your carefully-coordinated outfits are inappropriate and unflattering, to boot. You won't be sufficiently warm; you are going to be too hot. Nothing is fashionable. It is all too casual. It is all too dressy. Is that bra torn? What if this happens? What if that happens? It's Alaska - it could snow. Its southern Alaska - it will rain. The crowd will be old. The boat will be filled with youthful energy.
I have nothing to wear.
You roust the suitcase from its slumber and, with great (perhaps over-) confidence, you fling it open. The energy of empowerment that you have built over the preceding few days fills you to the point where you practically glow with capability. Every eventuality predicted, evaluated and managed. All necessary items carefully inventoried. Outfits have been planned to masterfully match the weather and planned occasions. Multitasking is the name of the game and with efficiency that would be envied by the most stereotypical Swiss, a complete cruise vacation has been designed to fit into a single rolling carryon and a shoulder pack.
Yeah, right.
Suddenly the dark power of the empty suitcase sends its soul-draining tendrils through your skin and into your spine. You become convinced that you have coincidentally forgotten everything and overplanned. All of your carefully-coordinated outfits are inappropriate and unflattering, to boot. You won't be sufficiently warm; you are going to be too hot. Nothing is fashionable. It is all too casual. It is all too dressy. Is that bra torn? What if this happens? What if that happens? It's Alaska - it could snow. Its southern Alaska - it will rain. The crowd will be old. The boat will be filled with youthful energy.
I have nothing to wear.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Handbag Hell
In defiance of the accepted feminine stereotype, I must declare that I have no interest in either shoes or handbags. I view both with a strongly utilitarian eye. Today, however, I had to undertake an unsettling journey into handbag hell. I was in need of an evening bag for my upcoming cruise and spent the day moving from store to store in search of an appropriate satchel.
A search of my house will generally produce only two handbags - one brown and one black shoulder plain shoulder bag. I prefer shoulder bags over handbags or clutches since I consider myself incapable of keeping a watchful eye on any item not attached to my person. Once a bag is set down for any reason, there is a rather significant chance that it will remain in that position until the janitorial staff finds in while closing for the evening. Further, I purchase bags that are as plain as an unsalted Saltine. I have neither the time nor the eye to coordinate bags with outfits. I refuse to devote sections of my closet to a handbag collection designed to complement each individual item of my wardrobe. So, plain and in solid black or brown.
An evening bag has never found sanctuary in my home. Formal occasions do not fill my social calendar, therefore, I have never found need for a bag designed solely for "dress up" events. I was not even sure where to begin. I knew that I didn't want to spend the world for the bag as its use was quite limited, but wanted something that was appropriate. For an unfeminine femme, this was a puzzle. So, off to the malls and associated shops.
There should be a book titled "The Myth of the Perfect Handbag." It is as nonexistent as Bigfoot. No two women are shaped or sized exactly the same, nor share exactly the same taste. Even with this trememdous diversity and the vast handbag universe, no one seems to be able to find the Holy Grail of handbags. I know this, because I engaged in sociological research while shopping. I keenly interrogated women who were also bag shopping. I asked the young and the old, every cultural and racial profile I could discern...the consensus was that gorgeous bags existed, functional bags were common, comfortable bags could be had, but no one bag fulfilled every criterion to meet the definition of "perfect." I watched the well-dressed and the tacky scurrying about from shelf to shelf, touching, holding, trying on...bag after bag after bag. The right color, but the wrong size. The perfect style, but won't hold a phone. On and on and on...Like a test set by the Fates to weed out the unworthy...
I had thought that my needs were sufficiently specific that finding something suitable would not pose too much of a challenge. A bother, certainly, but nothing to raise the blood pressure. Of course, I was totally wrong. I wanted a simple, elegant black bag with a thin shoulder strap. It doesn't exist. If it did, it was sucked into hell long ago, leaving behind a race memory that serves only to show us what could have been. If it had a strap, it was replete with garish decoration. If it was plain, it was a clutch. If it was the right material, it was too large and if it was reasonably priced, it was too small. I wandered through the forest of tassels, beads and sequins...winced at too many zeroes on price tags...I had to have a lie down half-way through the ordeal.
Did I buy anything? Yeah. Plain. Black. Wrist strap. Wallet-style, rather than pure purse. Where? Target. I am ashamed. I got so discumbobulated by hour 3 that I defaulted to Target and grabbed a cheapie bag that will do the job, but not much else. I feel like I have let down the team.
I'm afraid to even think about dress shoes....
A search of my house will generally produce only two handbags - one brown and one black shoulder plain shoulder bag. I prefer shoulder bags over handbags or clutches since I consider myself incapable of keeping a watchful eye on any item not attached to my person. Once a bag is set down for any reason, there is a rather significant chance that it will remain in that position until the janitorial staff finds in while closing for the evening. Further, I purchase bags that are as plain as an unsalted Saltine. I have neither the time nor the eye to coordinate bags with outfits. I refuse to devote sections of my closet to a handbag collection designed to complement each individual item of my wardrobe. So, plain and in solid black or brown.
An evening bag has never found sanctuary in my home. Formal occasions do not fill my social calendar, therefore, I have never found need for a bag designed solely for "dress up" events. I was not even sure where to begin. I knew that I didn't want to spend the world for the bag as its use was quite limited, but wanted something that was appropriate. For an unfeminine femme, this was a puzzle. So, off to the malls and associated shops.
There should be a book titled "The Myth of the Perfect Handbag." It is as nonexistent as Bigfoot. No two women are shaped or sized exactly the same, nor share exactly the same taste. Even with this trememdous diversity and the vast handbag universe, no one seems to be able to find the Holy Grail of handbags. I know this, because I engaged in sociological research while shopping. I keenly interrogated women who were also bag shopping. I asked the young and the old, every cultural and racial profile I could discern...the consensus was that gorgeous bags existed, functional bags were common, comfortable bags could be had, but no one bag fulfilled every criterion to meet the definition of "perfect." I watched the well-dressed and the tacky scurrying about from shelf to shelf, touching, holding, trying on...bag after bag after bag. The right color, but the wrong size. The perfect style, but won't hold a phone. On and on and on...Like a test set by the Fates to weed out the unworthy...
I had thought that my needs were sufficiently specific that finding something suitable would not pose too much of a challenge. A bother, certainly, but nothing to raise the blood pressure. Of course, I was totally wrong. I wanted a simple, elegant black bag with a thin shoulder strap. It doesn't exist. If it did, it was sucked into hell long ago, leaving behind a race memory that serves only to show us what could have been. If it had a strap, it was replete with garish decoration. If it was plain, it was a clutch. If it was the right material, it was too large and if it was reasonably priced, it was too small. I wandered through the forest of tassels, beads and sequins...winced at too many zeroes on price tags...I had to have a lie down half-way through the ordeal.
Did I buy anything? Yeah. Plain. Black. Wrist strap. Wallet-style, rather than pure purse. Where? Target. I am ashamed. I got so discumbobulated by hour 3 that I defaulted to Target and grabbed a cheapie bag that will do the job, but not much else. I feel like I have let down the team.
I'm afraid to even think about dress shoes....
Monday, August 01, 2005
Feelin' Evil
Some days the little red devil tap dances on your shoulder and prompts you to go jiggy yourself. Today is a mega-preggo day. I look and feel as if I'm 7 months along, but knew that I had to make more progress towards my trip and life. So, makeup, clothes, lots of caffeine and off I went. Already I was in a minor snitty mood, due to my size/shape and the fact that I am sporting my first sunburn of the year. Normally a little time in the sun wouldn't render me red, but I'd forgotten about that garish yellow label on the Lasix which cautions against both natural and artificial sunlight....stupid medication....
First, I had some blood to donate to the vampiritic medical community. The parking lot was packed to the gills and I was too darn lazy to walk very far. So, the "Clergy" placard goes flying onto my dashboard and the RAV 4 turns into the oh-so-sweet clergy parking space. Evil, but I wasn't going to be there all day...
Went to Filene's and actually found one style of pants that will serve for work. While browsing, I ran across a miserably boorish woman. One of those who thinks nothing of pushing you out of the way while she circles around the clothing carousel. I spied her doing the "try the jacket on over the clothes and look at yourself in the big pillar mirrors" thing. I further spied that she had hung her already-selected garments on a rack while she tried on her jacket. Was easy to remove said garments and scatter them around the department.
A final stop brought me to purchase some seed for my bird feeder. Now, being a townie, I am well aware of the traffic directions that should be followed and those that should be ignored (and are ignored by all locals). So, I happily backed my car out of my parking space and proceeded to head the wrong way up the one-way drive in the parking lot (as is the local custom). Ahead, I see an elderly woman driving a Lexus the correct way down said drive waving at me and looking anxious. Figuring she is a lost tourist, I roll down my window and am greeted with a contemptuous "You're going the wrong way." I considered all appropriate responses and finally inquired if she'd like to hear my proposal concerning old women and Soylent Green.
Fortunately, Monkey Baby had been an obedient, respectful branch-swinger during my absence, so my return home was quite pleasant and without incident. We took a book onto the porch and read a bit while waiting for the grocery delivery. Delivery - fine. No new opportunities to exercise my evil streak. Kind of a shame, actually. I do enjoy a good bit of malevolence now and then...
First, I had some blood to donate to the vampiritic medical community. The parking lot was packed to the gills and I was too darn lazy to walk very far. So, the "Clergy" placard goes flying onto my dashboard and the RAV 4 turns into the oh-so-sweet clergy parking space. Evil, but I wasn't going to be there all day...
Went to Filene's and actually found one style of pants that will serve for work. While browsing, I ran across a miserably boorish woman. One of those who thinks nothing of pushing you out of the way while she circles around the clothing carousel. I spied her doing the "try the jacket on over the clothes and look at yourself in the big pillar mirrors" thing. I further spied that she had hung her already-selected garments on a rack while she tried on her jacket. Was easy to remove said garments and scatter them around the department.
A final stop brought me to purchase some seed for my bird feeder. Now, being a townie, I am well aware of the traffic directions that should be followed and those that should be ignored (and are ignored by all locals). So, I happily backed my car out of my parking space and proceeded to head the wrong way up the one-way drive in the parking lot (as is the local custom). Ahead, I see an elderly woman driving a Lexus the correct way down said drive waving at me and looking anxious. Figuring she is a lost tourist, I roll down my window and am greeted with a contemptuous "You're going the wrong way." I considered all appropriate responses and finally inquired if she'd like to hear my proposal concerning old women and Soylent Green.
Fortunately, Monkey Baby had been an obedient, respectful branch-swinger during my absence, so my return home was quite pleasant and without incident. We took a book onto the porch and read a bit while waiting for the grocery delivery. Delivery - fine. No new opportunities to exercise my evil streak. Kind of a shame, actually. I do enjoy a good bit of malevolence now and then...
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