Posts
I submitted a manuscript a few weeks ago and when I checked the mail today it had come back to me unopened. The address I sent it to did not exist.
No huge deal. I'll just call up the company and see if they changed PO boxes...but I must confess to feeling let down.
Oddly enough I think even a rejection letter would have felt better, at least then these past weeks of anticipation would have led to some sort of communication.
Alas, they did not.
Some people have a philosophy of "waiting for God to point them in a direction."
I've always thought better to let God, or the Universe or the Aliens or whoever you think is in charge of fate, tell you "no" instead of waiting for a "yes."
It seems like I've had a lot of "no" lately. My old pastor used to say that some things are "of The Devil" some things are "of the Holy Spirit" and some things are "of Daffy Duck." I think I finally understand.
I'm not complaining, only pondering.
I'm not sure if it's because my ideas and plans are doofy or if it's because I truly have a purpose that I just haven't found yet.
I wonder if that purpose is time sensitive. Am I supposed to fail at everything else because I'm supposed to be at home with Penny right now? Will I stop failing when Penny starts school? Or graduates high school? Will I stop failing when my ideas get better. Is this just dumb luck? The economy? Or is it me....
My goodness this is sounding a little pathetic.
A month ago I applied for a baby sitting job at a community center. 3 hours a day. I worked special ed for 2 years in the public schools in Portland...I didn't get the job because they had found someone whose skills were a "Better Fit" for the position.
I think I hate fail blog so much because I'm afraid one day I'm going to look at it and see my picture posted with FAIL scrolled across my forehead.
I can just picture the end of my life being like one of those terrible Lifetime TV Movies where at the end the old lady on her deathbed sits and holds her daughter's hand and says, "The one thing I got right in life was you."
I don't want to be that lady. I don't want Penny to have that mom, or Charlie to have that wife.
So how do you get out of a rut when every plan you make runs you head first into a wall?
Not complaining, just pondering.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The Island
Is Great Barrington THE ISLAND?
Penny was born on the night of the season 5 finale of LOST. To give some background. Charlie and I are NUTS about LOST. NUTS. In Portland we used to organize LOST Night, we would have friends over for potluck dinner and BYOB and all of the talking would stop when the show came on. One year for one of the finales we had everyone come dressed up as their favorite LOST character. I have pictures of Charlie in a yellow yarn wig and a torn-open shirt because he was supposed to be Sawyer.
For awhile we didn't own a TV so we would walk over to a bar and sit around the TV there when LOST came on. My sister would meet us there and she and Charlie would have a beer and I would order a big bowl of ice-cream and we would turn on the subtitles so that we could see what was going on when the noise from the jukebox drowned out the dialogue.
I feel guilty admitting this but I was induced and the doctor gave me the choice of having the baby the night before the LOST finale or the night of. I chose the night before....also because I was excited to meet my baby. :) smile. The induction didn't work that first night so as fate would have it, Penny was born at 8pm and by the time the show started at 9 I was a little...shall we say.....distracted.
On the show LOST, for those of you who aren't familiar, the characters crash on an island. There are flashes back into their lives before the crash and you start to gather that none of them were particularly happy. In fact, even though there is danger lurking in every corner of the island, the characters are all better off there they just don't know it. They fight so hard to get off the island, but only to get back to the stress of their previous lives. The grass is always greener I suppose.
Since we moved here a year ago, I have wanted to leave. Danger in the form of loneliness, joblessness, high cost of living and jumping spiders, has lurked in every corner of our lives.
But then there are these moments.
Sure, we're all alone (well 4 hours away from our closest friends and family) but we've learned to lean on eachother like never before. I would love to be closer to our families, there are times when I have no idea what to do when Penny cries, but I look at her with so much pride now. We're winging it and despite all of my doubts, she seems to be thriving. There are no jobs out here, but because there are no jobs and child care is so expensive anyway, I get to stay home and watch everything that Penny does, all of the different ways she changes and grows from sun up to sun down. In these moments of peace and security I wonder, is Great Barrington OUR Island?
Penny was born on the night of the season 5 finale of LOST. To give some background. Charlie and I are NUTS about LOST. NUTS. In Portland we used to organize LOST Night, we would have friends over for potluck dinner and BYOB and all of the talking would stop when the show came on. One year for one of the finales we had everyone come dressed up as their favorite LOST character. I have pictures of Charlie in a yellow yarn wig and a torn-open shirt because he was supposed to be Sawyer.
For awhile we didn't own a TV so we would walk over to a bar and sit around the TV there when LOST came on. My sister would meet us there and she and Charlie would have a beer and I would order a big bowl of ice-cream and we would turn on the subtitles so that we could see what was going on when the noise from the jukebox drowned out the dialogue.
I feel guilty admitting this but I was induced and the doctor gave me the choice of having the baby the night before the LOST finale or the night of. I chose the night before....also because I was excited to meet my baby. :) smile. The induction didn't work that first night so as fate would have it, Penny was born at 8pm and by the time the show started at 9 I was a little...shall we say.....distracted.
On the show LOST, for those of you who aren't familiar, the characters crash on an island. There are flashes back into their lives before the crash and you start to gather that none of them were particularly happy. In fact, even though there is danger lurking in every corner of the island, the characters are all better off there they just don't know it. They fight so hard to get off the island, but only to get back to the stress of their previous lives. The grass is always greener I suppose.
Since we moved here a year ago, I have wanted to leave. Danger in the form of loneliness, joblessness, high cost of living and jumping spiders, has lurked in every corner of our lives.
But then there are these moments.
Sure, we're all alone (well 4 hours away from our closest friends and family) but we've learned to lean on eachother like never before. I would love to be closer to our families, there are times when I have no idea what to do when Penny cries, but I look at her with so much pride now. We're winging it and despite all of my doubts, she seems to be thriving. There are no jobs out here, but because there are no jobs and child care is so expensive anyway, I get to stay home and watch everything that Penny does, all of the different ways she changes and grows from sun up to sun down. In these moments of peace and security I wonder, is Great Barrington OUR Island?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Short Story Note
I wrote my short story when we arrived in Great Barrington, almost a year ago. I had no idea I was pregnant-so when I talk about taking sleeping pills, this is my disclaimer...NO IDEA I was pregnant. I cleaned out the cat box while we were driving across the country too, but Penny seems okay. :) Smile.
A Short Story - I am Jo March, Sort Of
I imagine I’m like Jo March in Little Women. Leaving my beloved family and setting out on an adventure in the big city to clear my head. There are a few major differences. Jo March didn’t go too far. She started in Concord and landed in Boston and eventually moved to a house in the same neighborhood as her parents. Jo was single, she met a professor in Boston and fell in love. I met my husband in Portland and came here for his job. Jo moved to the big city and although we are in close proximity to several big cities, we are living in the smallest town I’ve ever seen. There are a million other slight differences…I live in the twenty first century, we drove across the country in a Penske truck towing a mini van, I only have one sister and thank goodness she’s not sick and the biggest difference, I suppose, is that Jo took her trip out of courage and the desire for change. I’ve always feared change more than anything.
I go through my day humming the theme from the 1990’s Little Women remake in my head. There are no words (thank goodness) and the tune is neither happy nor sad, simply a tribute to quaint living and the warm love of family and friends.
In reality, I suppose I am not in the most romantic of scenarios. I am experiencing day three of being cooped up in a hotel room in Albany, NY while my husband trains for his new position. At first, I was relieved. For most of my adult life, my secret fantasy has been to break away somewhere and spend an entire day in a hotel room sleeping with no phone calls, no work and no responsibility. It was fun- great even- for the first few hours, but after the Lifetime Movie Network started replaying the same movies and I’d seen every episode of Melrose Place, I got tired of being here.
Jo had something to do. She had kids to govern and a professor to go to the opera with. Granted, I have my own professor, who’s better looking than the one in the 1990s remake. But there are no operas in this neighborhood and I can’t seem to find a job to save my life.
Did I mention, I couldn’t look like Wynona Rider to save my life? For that matter, I couldn’t look like Katherine Hepburn either…although I’d rather look like Wynona as long as I’m imagining things.
Yesterday I took a sleeping pill in the middle of the day. I don’t think Jo March would have done that.
I just need to make it through today and tomorrow and then we’ll be back in Great Barrington where we will be living into the unforeseen future. The house we will be moving into will not be available for three more weeks. Luckily, our new landlord is being very generous and allowing us to stay in another property he owns, free of charge! His kindness could not have come at a better time.
The first night we arrived into town, we were greeted by Charlie’s parents. They drove for hours just to welcome us and I truly appreciated the gesture. Unfortunately, we had lined up a place to live online, we had gone to see it before we went to see them and were horribly disappointed with both the cost and the square footage. I suppose if I had wanted a true Little Women experience, we should have taken the apartment. It seemed to be from the right time period and the Marches lived in poverty…although I think, upon further reflection, this must have been more like the Hummel’s house. So it was with heavy hearts that we greeted the Deitzes and they accompanied us to another property which was equally a, would Jo say, “S*** box?”
I tried to put on a brave face for my in-laws and my husband. By now the brass and the strings of the Little Women theme was blasting at full volume in my head. A wave of homesickness swept over me as I felt the small parameters of the town close in all around me. I excused myself to my hotel room for a “Nap” and called my parent’s house. I talked for a while to my dad, which even writing about now brings tears to my eyes. He said all was well at home and that he loved me, then I talked to my mom who has always had an ability to detect tears even from long distance phone calls. I claimed allergies which probably didn’t throw her off at all, but she went along with it anyway. I got off the phone determined to make this new life work. I went out to the hotel pool where my mother in law was sitting and reading. I chattered about absolutely nothing for almost an hour. Diane has the patience of a saint, I’m sure I was nowhere near making sense.
When we retired for the evening, I locked myself into the bathroom when I thought Charlie was not looking and sobbed. A good long cry. I remember my mom saying that you can set aside feelings of sadness and worry for a set time and it allows you to function during the rest of your day. I decided I would give my self 10 minutes to freak out. And freak out I did. I contemplated trying to convince Charlie to fly home, I asked God to help us find something better- some comfort in this new situation. I thought about taking all of my migraine medicine at once- I dismissed that one fast- this was Little Women, not Madame Bovary!
I came out of the bathroom and Charlie was waiting for me looking horribly apologetic. Did I really think he wouldn’t hear me sobbing and taking big heavy breathes, I might as well have been shouting, “WHY ME?” at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. Seeing Charlie in that moment brought me back around. I needed to stop trying to find a way around these changes and start accepting that this was our life right now. He needed me. I had been strong back home, I promised him I would support his career choices no matter where they took us. I was happy for him and proud of him and doing a terrible job of convincing him.
I woke up the next morning with amazingly puffy eyes. I put on an abundance of under eye concealer not wanting my in-laws to pick up on my difficult evening. We faced the new day not knowing what we would find, but with hope. Our first challenge was finding a place to store our Penske truck while we went to Albany for Charlie’s training. Problem solved. The people who owned the truck rental company said we could keep the truck there free of charge. After spending most of the morning on the phone with various real estate agents, one of them referred us to Jim. Jim is the owner of the house we will be moving into in the next few weeks. Finally, we had to find a place to board our two cats. (Who, by the way, hated us for this trip- it seems they fear change too.) At first, we plotted to try to sneak them into the hotel in Albany inside of our suitcases, but when it came down to it, the idea seemed less than reasonable. On a lark, on our way out of town, we tried the vet/pet boarding and grooming place next to the house we would be renting. The girl at the counter said she couldn’t take the cats without vaccine paperwork. The cats had been vaccinated, but the proof was laying in a box in the back of our Penske truck. The girl at the front counter took our word for it. Not only that, but she put the cats in their own little playroom where they could act up and scratch everything they saw. Within 24 hours all of our worries had been taken care of, maybe God heard my sad ramblings in the bathroom and put some good people in our way. I feel a little like a spoiled child who threw a temper tantrum but who’s parents humored her anyway. Maybe I’m more like Amy March than Jo.
People in our new town seem to do business based on their word. It’s old fashioned, but refreshing. More than that, living in a small town is teaching me to follow through on things. I had applied for a job and as it turned out it wasn’t going to pay enough. In Portland, I would have blown off the next interview and not called back. You can’t do that in a small town, the chances of my running into the woman who interviewed me are very high. I called her back and said I couldn’t proceed in the interview process. To my alarm, when I got off the phone I was sweating buckets! Maybe this move will cure me of some old bad habbits.
My feelings seem to come and go quickly. This morning a leak in our hotel room sink meant that someone was going to have to come up to the room and work on it while Charlie was away. This area of town is-would Jo say, “Ghetto?” so I didn’t have anywhere to go and I’m very nervous around strangers. I pouted a lot this morning about that, but it turned out okay.
Jo March is my favorite literary character. I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. My middle name is Jo for Jo in the story. She’s spunky and brave and vulnerable and creative. I’m hoping that by facing my fear of change, I will take on more of these characteristics. We both live in Massachusetts now.
I go through my day humming the theme from the 1990’s Little Women remake in my head. There are no words (thank goodness) and the tune is neither happy nor sad, simply a tribute to quaint living and the warm love of family and friends.
In reality, I suppose I am not in the most romantic of scenarios. I am experiencing day three of being cooped up in a hotel room in Albany, NY while my husband trains for his new position. At first, I was relieved. For most of my adult life, my secret fantasy has been to break away somewhere and spend an entire day in a hotel room sleeping with no phone calls, no work and no responsibility. It was fun- great even- for the first few hours, but after the Lifetime Movie Network started replaying the same movies and I’d seen every episode of Melrose Place, I got tired of being here.
Jo had something to do. She had kids to govern and a professor to go to the opera with. Granted, I have my own professor, who’s better looking than the one in the 1990s remake. But there are no operas in this neighborhood and I can’t seem to find a job to save my life.
Did I mention, I couldn’t look like Wynona Rider to save my life? For that matter, I couldn’t look like Katherine Hepburn either…although I’d rather look like Wynona as long as I’m imagining things.
Yesterday I took a sleeping pill in the middle of the day. I don’t think Jo March would have done that.
I just need to make it through today and tomorrow and then we’ll be back in Great Barrington where we will be living into the unforeseen future. The house we will be moving into will not be available for three more weeks. Luckily, our new landlord is being very generous and allowing us to stay in another property he owns, free of charge! His kindness could not have come at a better time.
The first night we arrived into town, we were greeted by Charlie’s parents. They drove for hours just to welcome us and I truly appreciated the gesture. Unfortunately, we had lined up a place to live online, we had gone to see it before we went to see them and were horribly disappointed with both the cost and the square footage. I suppose if I had wanted a true Little Women experience, we should have taken the apartment. It seemed to be from the right time period and the Marches lived in poverty…although I think, upon further reflection, this must have been more like the Hummel’s house. So it was with heavy hearts that we greeted the Deitzes and they accompanied us to another property which was equally a, would Jo say, “S*** box?”
I tried to put on a brave face for my in-laws and my husband. By now the brass and the strings of the Little Women theme was blasting at full volume in my head. A wave of homesickness swept over me as I felt the small parameters of the town close in all around me. I excused myself to my hotel room for a “Nap” and called my parent’s house. I talked for a while to my dad, which even writing about now brings tears to my eyes. He said all was well at home and that he loved me, then I talked to my mom who has always had an ability to detect tears even from long distance phone calls. I claimed allergies which probably didn’t throw her off at all, but she went along with it anyway. I got off the phone determined to make this new life work. I went out to the hotel pool where my mother in law was sitting and reading. I chattered about absolutely nothing for almost an hour. Diane has the patience of a saint, I’m sure I was nowhere near making sense.
When we retired for the evening, I locked myself into the bathroom when I thought Charlie was not looking and sobbed. A good long cry. I remember my mom saying that you can set aside feelings of sadness and worry for a set time and it allows you to function during the rest of your day. I decided I would give my self 10 minutes to freak out. And freak out I did. I contemplated trying to convince Charlie to fly home, I asked God to help us find something better- some comfort in this new situation. I thought about taking all of my migraine medicine at once- I dismissed that one fast- this was Little Women, not Madame Bovary!
I came out of the bathroom and Charlie was waiting for me looking horribly apologetic. Did I really think he wouldn’t hear me sobbing and taking big heavy breathes, I might as well have been shouting, “WHY ME?” at the top of my lungs. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. Seeing Charlie in that moment brought me back around. I needed to stop trying to find a way around these changes and start accepting that this was our life right now. He needed me. I had been strong back home, I promised him I would support his career choices no matter where they took us. I was happy for him and proud of him and doing a terrible job of convincing him.
I woke up the next morning with amazingly puffy eyes. I put on an abundance of under eye concealer not wanting my in-laws to pick up on my difficult evening. We faced the new day not knowing what we would find, but with hope. Our first challenge was finding a place to store our Penske truck while we went to Albany for Charlie’s training. Problem solved. The people who owned the truck rental company said we could keep the truck there free of charge. After spending most of the morning on the phone with various real estate agents, one of them referred us to Jim. Jim is the owner of the house we will be moving into in the next few weeks. Finally, we had to find a place to board our two cats. (Who, by the way, hated us for this trip- it seems they fear change too.) At first, we plotted to try to sneak them into the hotel in Albany inside of our suitcases, but when it came down to it, the idea seemed less than reasonable. On a lark, on our way out of town, we tried the vet/pet boarding and grooming place next to the house we would be renting. The girl at the counter said she couldn’t take the cats without vaccine paperwork. The cats had been vaccinated, but the proof was laying in a box in the back of our Penske truck. The girl at the front counter took our word for it. Not only that, but she put the cats in their own little playroom where they could act up and scratch everything they saw. Within 24 hours all of our worries had been taken care of, maybe God heard my sad ramblings in the bathroom and put some good people in our way. I feel a little like a spoiled child who threw a temper tantrum but who’s parents humored her anyway. Maybe I’m more like Amy March than Jo.
People in our new town seem to do business based on their word. It’s old fashioned, but refreshing. More than that, living in a small town is teaching me to follow through on things. I had applied for a job and as it turned out it wasn’t going to pay enough. In Portland, I would have blown off the next interview and not called back. You can’t do that in a small town, the chances of my running into the woman who interviewed me are very high. I called her back and said I couldn’t proceed in the interview process. To my alarm, when I got off the phone I was sweating buckets! Maybe this move will cure me of some old bad habbits.
My feelings seem to come and go quickly. This morning a leak in our hotel room sink meant that someone was going to have to come up to the room and work on it while Charlie was away. This area of town is-would Jo say, “Ghetto?” so I didn’t have anywhere to go and I’m very nervous around strangers. I pouted a lot this morning about that, but it turned out okay.
Jo March is my favorite literary character. I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. My middle name is Jo for Jo in the story. She’s spunky and brave and vulnerable and creative. I’m hoping that by facing my fear of change, I will take on more of these characteristics. We both live in Massachusetts now.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Health Insurance and Voicemail
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
This morning I found out that I was not granted an exception on my state health insurance application. Despite the fact that it would cost over a third of my husband's paycheck to insure me.
It took mass health over two months to qualify me and 2 weeks to cancel me. The worst part was talking to the representative today who said income didn't play a part in the decision, and that since I was married and my husband's employer offers insurance, I had to go through them.
"Now, if you were to obtain a divorce," she suggested, "and re-apply for Mass Health, we might be able to reconsider you."
Okay so....weighing my options. Gonna have to go with loyal and cute husband of five years instead of crack-pot and unreliable health insurance. What is wrong with this state!?
When I called back to see if we qualified for the Premium Assistance Program, they said no because the decision was not based on my husband's insurance, but rather on our income being too substantial to fit the restrictions. WHAT?
Someday when we move, I am going to write an open letter to Mass Health and post it on this site and it will not be pretty.
Mass Health.....
I found this news out on my way to a Le Leche Meeting. I called my husband and started crying and pulled the car over into where else...McDonalds...my rainy day haven. He said the obligatory, "Don't worry we'll work it out." line and I got off the phone and ordered some ice coffees. (Gonna have to start drinking ice coffee at home, it's my Achilles' Heel.) I look at my face in the rear view mirror and it's all red and puffy and cry-ish. I decide I will go home and tackle this insurance puzzle and skip the meeting.
While I'm sitting in the drive through though, I notice I have a voicemail. It's Janet, the Le Leche leader, she left me a message letting me know there was a meeting and said that she'd like to see me there. This was the first person in this town I've had more than a 5 minute conversation with that wasn't a paid professional.
I grab my coffee and haul A over to the library where the meeting is being held. I pull into the parking lot and dab concealer on over my puffy red face and I walk into the meeting 10 minutes late.
I think I must have either forgotten to rub the make up in, or still looked like I'd been bawling my eyes out because the room got all quiet when I walked in.
Not the best start, but I can't very well leave now.
I sit the car seat with sleeping Penny down next to me on the carpet and immediately people begin introducing themselves.
The woman next to me has an 11 week old, I take one look at Penny and one look at her baby and I start thinking..."Maybe I AM overfeeding her?" Smile.
Someone starts talking about how they have trouble getting sleep because their baby wakes up a couple of times a night to eat. Someone else says they are dealing with thrush. Someone else doesn't know how to keep mosquitoes away from her baby....
Could this be conversation? Real ...adult...conversation?
I forgot how much I missed talking to other women.
I mentally box up the health care debacle and quit obsessing about whether or not I remembered to rub in the make up on my face. And for the first time in weeks I feel like I've rejoined the human race.
I walk out of the meeting with the phone number of one of the moms with a baby close to Penny's age and a promise to get together soon.
Earlier this morning I thought I was going to fall apart. None of the insurance news has gotten better with all of my phone calls this afternoon, but it was so nice to have a break in the middle of the day.
I'm so glad Janet left a message.
This morning I found out that I was not granted an exception on my state health insurance application. Despite the fact that it would cost over a third of my husband's paycheck to insure me.
It took mass health over two months to qualify me and 2 weeks to cancel me. The worst part was talking to the representative today who said income didn't play a part in the decision, and that since I was married and my husband's employer offers insurance, I had to go through them.
"Now, if you were to obtain a divorce," she suggested, "and re-apply for Mass Health, we might be able to reconsider you."
Okay so....weighing my options. Gonna have to go with loyal and cute husband of five years instead of crack-pot and unreliable health insurance. What is wrong with this state!?
When I called back to see if we qualified for the Premium Assistance Program, they said no because the decision was not based on my husband's insurance, but rather on our income being too substantial to fit the restrictions. WHAT?
Someday when we move, I am going to write an open letter to Mass Health and post it on this site and it will not be pretty.
Mass Health.....
I found this news out on my way to a Le Leche Meeting. I called my husband and started crying and pulled the car over into where else...McDonalds...my rainy day haven. He said the obligatory, "Don't worry we'll work it out." line and I got off the phone and ordered some ice coffees. (Gonna have to start drinking ice coffee at home, it's my Achilles' Heel.) I look at my face in the rear view mirror and it's all red and puffy and cry-ish. I decide I will go home and tackle this insurance puzzle and skip the meeting.
While I'm sitting in the drive through though, I notice I have a voicemail. It's Janet, the Le Leche leader, she left me a message letting me know there was a meeting and said that she'd like to see me there. This was the first person in this town I've had more than a 5 minute conversation with that wasn't a paid professional.
I grab my coffee and haul A over to the library where the meeting is being held. I pull into the parking lot and dab concealer on over my puffy red face and I walk into the meeting 10 minutes late.
I think I must have either forgotten to rub the make up in, or still looked like I'd been bawling my eyes out because the room got all quiet when I walked in.
Not the best start, but I can't very well leave now.
I sit the car seat with sleeping Penny down next to me on the carpet and immediately people begin introducing themselves.
The woman next to me has an 11 week old, I take one look at Penny and one look at her baby and I start thinking..."Maybe I AM overfeeding her?" Smile.
Someone starts talking about how they have trouble getting sleep because their baby wakes up a couple of times a night to eat. Someone else says they are dealing with thrush. Someone else doesn't know how to keep mosquitoes away from her baby....
Could this be conversation? Real ...adult...conversation?
I forgot how much I missed talking to other women.
I mentally box up the health care debacle and quit obsessing about whether or not I remembered to rub in the make up on my face. And for the first time in weeks I feel like I've rejoined the human race.
I walk out of the meeting with the phone number of one of the moms with a baby close to Penny's age and a promise to get together soon.
Earlier this morning I thought I was going to fall apart. None of the insurance news has gotten better with all of my phone calls this afternoon, but it was so nice to have a break in the middle of the day.
I'm so glad Janet left a message.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Date Night
Date night. A glorious tradition that has fallen by the wayside since the arrival of the latest addition to our family. For months now, what once used to be a nice dinner out followed by -you guessed it- the Thursday night NBC line-up has been replaced with tag team dinners and naps. Well, tonight we gave date night one more try. We went bowling.
Yes, we did have a sort of third wheel along with us, but who is lucky enough to have a third wheel that sleeps through most of the date and can't talk yet??
We arrived at the bowling alley, Charlie in his Saturday Night Fever T-Shirt and me in another one of Charlie's shirts and a pair of baggy shorts.
Poor innocent bowlers had to look at my pasty legs for the better part of an hour.
We set up the game and went to town. Bowling Town.
Wow, do we suck at bowling. I won the first round with a whopping score of 58 (To Charlie's 37...that's right....37) Charlie won the next round and actually got above the hundred mark...I held to my mid-50s score for round two. My low point was definitely chasing the bowling ball down the isle after I dropped it behind me and it rolled away in the other direction. Charlie's was a combination of nothing bowls, deteriorating high fives and what looked like a sort of deranged tap dance every time he took a turn. The Avril Levign album playing in the background only helped with the ambiance.
As I looked around me half way through the game, I saw all of these young cute girls. I knew their tans were fake because it's been raining all summer. So skinny and stylish, so much energy. I remember being that age and trying so hard. Wanting to be noticed.
I looked down at my white legs and baggy shorts, my husband's T-shirt and my newly purchased black anklets (I didn't remember to bring socks with me from the house) and I thought, "This is the most fun I've ever had bowling." How lucky am I that I don't have to try to get noticed anymore? The pressure's off. I have a cute husband who only cares that we're out having fun. I have a sweet baby who's puking just a little bit on her T-shirt, but who has been smiling and happy since we left the house.
All of that time in high school and college wanting to get noticed.... so that I could have exactly what I had tonight.
I may still have a ton of baby weight to lose, I may be the pastiest woman in Massachusetts, I may not be sexy or sassy or eighteen anymore. But tonight I feel like I have arrived.
Yes, we did have a sort of third wheel along with us, but who is lucky enough to have a third wheel that sleeps through most of the date and can't talk yet??
We arrived at the bowling alley, Charlie in his Saturday Night Fever T-Shirt and me in another one of Charlie's shirts and a pair of baggy shorts.
Poor innocent bowlers had to look at my pasty legs for the better part of an hour.
We set up the game and went to town. Bowling Town.
Wow, do we suck at bowling. I won the first round with a whopping score of 58 (To Charlie's 37...that's right....37) Charlie won the next round and actually got above the hundred mark...I held to my mid-50s score for round two. My low point was definitely chasing the bowling ball down the isle after I dropped it behind me and it rolled away in the other direction. Charlie's was a combination of nothing bowls, deteriorating high fives and what looked like a sort of deranged tap dance every time he took a turn. The Avril Levign album playing in the background only helped with the ambiance.
As I looked around me half way through the game, I saw all of these young cute girls. I knew their tans were fake because it's been raining all summer. So skinny and stylish, so much energy. I remember being that age and trying so hard. Wanting to be noticed.
I looked down at my white legs and baggy shorts, my husband's T-shirt and my newly purchased black anklets (I didn't remember to bring socks with me from the house) and I thought, "This is the most fun I've ever had bowling." How lucky am I that I don't have to try to get noticed anymore? The pressure's off. I have a cute husband who only cares that we're out having fun. I have a sweet baby who's puking just a little bit on her T-shirt, but who has been smiling and happy since we left the house.
All of that time in high school and college wanting to get noticed.... so that I could have exactly what I had tonight.
I may still have a ton of baby weight to lose, I may be the pastiest woman in Massachusetts, I may not be sexy or sassy or eighteen anymore. But tonight I feel like I have arrived.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
No Cable?
We have been without cable (Basic or otherwise) for almost two weeks now. Right now, as the sun is setting, dinner has been made and consumed and Charlie's rocking my little buddy outside on the porch, I have to say I don't miss it.
I'll tell you when I do miss it though. At eight in the morning when Charlie leaves for work and I would have clicked on the TODAY show, eaten some toast, drunk my two cups of coffee and fed Penny. It's funny, I've rarely ever even paid attention to what's being said on that show, but for a few hours every day, I've felt like I had friends chattering in the background of my life.
For two hours in the morning, when Penny takes her morning nap, I've had to come to terms with silence. Me and my thoughts.....alone.....uncensored, without distraction and without Hoda Kopb and Kathy Lee Gifford ogling men and drinking (A little too early in the day-I might add.)
Sometimes I can't stand it. I stare a million times at the clock waiting until enough time has gone by to pack up Penny and take her into town under the guise of delivering coffee to my husband. Sometimes I eat everything in the fridge, starting with the good stuff and working my way back to the more questionable items, last week's chicken, a jar of fudge from a year ago...rice that makes crunching noises when I chew it. I want that crunching sound to drown out the sound of my own loneliness. I want the chewing to sound like my friends at the TODAY show, but it doesn't. I turn on the radio, but I only get static. I turn on the fans but I cringe to think of what the electric bill could turn into. I even do aerobics. Gasp. I ponder waking Penny up, but she can only crank out a couple of syllables at a time, not particular stimulating conversation.
I guess when it all boils down, I have let TV replace the need I had for people in my life. The sweet questioning voice of Matt Lauer has replaced my need for adult conversation. Its very sad really.
Well now here I am. I suppose I should be thankful for the experience, my eyes have been opened and I have seen the light. Anne Curry will no longer make me feel like it's okay to shut out the world for her friendship.
I'll tell you when I do miss it though. At eight in the morning when Charlie leaves for work and I would have clicked on the TODAY show, eaten some toast, drunk my two cups of coffee and fed Penny. It's funny, I've rarely ever even paid attention to what's being said on that show, but for a few hours every day, I've felt like I had friends chattering in the background of my life.
For two hours in the morning, when Penny takes her morning nap, I've had to come to terms with silence. Me and my thoughts.....alone.....uncensored, without distraction and without Hoda Kopb and Kathy Lee Gifford ogling men and drinking (A little too early in the day-I might add.)
Sometimes I can't stand it. I stare a million times at the clock waiting until enough time has gone by to pack up Penny and take her into town under the guise of delivering coffee to my husband. Sometimes I eat everything in the fridge, starting with the good stuff and working my way back to the more questionable items, last week's chicken, a jar of fudge from a year ago...rice that makes crunching noises when I chew it. I want that crunching sound to drown out the sound of my own loneliness. I want the chewing to sound like my friends at the TODAY show, but it doesn't. I turn on the radio, but I only get static. I turn on the fans but I cringe to think of what the electric bill could turn into. I even do aerobics. Gasp. I ponder waking Penny up, but she can only crank out a couple of syllables at a time, not particular stimulating conversation.
I guess when it all boils down, I have let TV replace the need I had for people in my life. The sweet questioning voice of Matt Lauer has replaced my need for adult conversation. Its very sad really.
Well now here I am. I suppose I should be thankful for the experience, my eyes have been opened and I have seen the light. Anne Curry will no longer make me feel like it's okay to shut out the world for her friendship.
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