• It’s amazing to me how quickly a conversation can go from almost comfortable and pleasant to fuck a bunch of this shit in just one sentence now. We’re at the fuck a bunch of this shit point of the night, apparently. At least he had the sense to cut it off before it devolved into something ugly.
• Sometimes you just keep stretching out on the porch and letting someone wipe their feet on you, time after time, and even though they say that’s not what they’re doing, it is what they’re doing, regardless of whether it’s intentional or not, and eventually you just have to pick yourself up, shake yourself out, and remember that you are a glorious woman who deserves to be treated with respect, not a doormat. Eventually has arrived. I’m done.
• I sent my son Ty that photo via text tonight and wished him happy anniversary. It was two years ago today that he moved out of the house into an apartment a few blocks away on the same street. We pretty much only see him when he needs to do laundry, and I’ve tried to respect his need for independence, but I miss him so much. I haven’t told him about our separation yet, but we’re setting up an evening this week to walk the dog together, and I will tell him then. He’s 22, and yes, he’s 6’8”, and no, he doesn’t play hoop. He’s an incredible visual artist and a hell of a good storyteller. Did I mention that I really miss him? I really miss him.
• I don’t know. I felt pretty ok all day today, but then sat down to practice the Portuguese pronunciations for the song, and I can do it reading, but I can’t retain it, and I’m really worried that I have bitten off something I will never be able to chew. I’m hoping that after I meet with the composer tomorrow and we get the song in a key I can manage and he makes a recording for me, that it will start to stick. Otherwise I think I should ask the playwright to change the script to reflect the fact that The Chanteuse (me) has early onset dementia and has to read from a music sheet when she sings. That will work, right?
• I really wish there was a tweet up soon. I miss you beautiful people.
• Outlined much of the presentation, plus fleshed out a few of the notes.
• Worked on the market website: uploaded new photos to the banner slideshow, started to add more info and photos to the vendor listings, and beefed up the home page copy.
• Harvested about 30 giant, ripe paste tomatoes of different varieties, plus a few bright red cayenne peppers, two quarts worth of purple beans, some broccoli shoots, and another dozen cucumbers.
• Prepped and roasted the aforementioned tomato sauce for tonight’s supper.
• Prepped cucumbers for a batch of Bread & Butter Pickles. They’re in the fridge in a giant bowl, salted and iced. I still need to make a store run for the other ingredients, and don’t much feel like going today. They may have to sit in their salty bath until Wednesday, but that’s OK, they’ll just be extra crunchy.
• One quart jar of spicy quick pickled purple and yellow beans with carrot spears.
So, it’s just after 3:00, and Lila left with friends to an air show in Cleveland a few minutes ago. I should probably make myself sit here and practice my Portuguese pronunciations for the next hour, so that’s what I’ll do, even though I also feel like doing something i can’t quite put my finger on – perhaps a tab of ecstasy and dancing around a fire in the dark (hello 30 years ago), or maybe swimming in the ocean (hello 12 hour drive), or even just sitting on the porch staring at the leaves on the pear espalier (hello almost every evening this summer).
Is that enough labor for a holiday? I feel like I’ve barely made a dent.
Next time I make a fuck ton if salsa SOMEONE remind me to wear gloves when I chop the peppers!!! Oh my fuck my hands burn!! I’ve tried everything and it won’t go away all I want to do is knit and that feels like razor blades on my skin please help!!!
I’ve heard that rubbing…
I’ve done that and the best thing I found was to rub shredded cheese all over my hands. It absorbs the oil quickly. Just don’t use the same bowl of cheese shreds again when the next round of burning sets in. Throw that out and start fresh otherwise you just smear hot pepper oils right back all over your skin. It worked like a charm.
1. Maybe it’s ragweed? My nose isn’t runny per se, but this sinus headache is well into its second day, and it’s sapping what little energy I have. I’m going to do the neti pot and am also going to nap like a boss later today.
2. I need to do things to build my energy. Walking helps, but I’m eating too much bread and pasta, and drinking too much beer, so I think that just cancels out the walking. I’m going to do a few days of raw foods and lots of lemon-cucumber-ginger water to see if I can jump start my system again.
3. I hula hooped to about ten songs last night at the Owl Hill annual music and camping and friends and food and fun celebration. I had a terrific groove going, able to slow the hoop down and speed it back up, moving it up and down my torso a bit, movements really in sync with the music, turning my body in circles, and it felt amazing. I never dropped it and really only stopped because I felt dizzy from the humidity and sweating so hard and just needed to go sit down and drink some water. When I stopped a woman ran up to me and thanked me for hooping in front of her group, said she’d never seen anyone keep it up that long, and that I was mesmerizing. ::blush:: Seriously, between that, being able to read my Singing Circle poem into a mic to the crowd while the band backed me with a sexy blues rhythm, and meeting a very intriguing person at the market, yesterday was a good day for my crushed ego.
4. All that said, I’m feeling so very ready to not need external validation for my existence. Unfortunately, there’s no Off Button for that co-dependent personality trait, but I’m working on it.
5. Chris seems to have found an apartment. It’s a room in a newish condo that a casual friend of his is leaving because he bought a house. It comes with furniture and a roommate, so he needs to meet this person before he makes his final decision. I’m surprised by how I only feel a little bit upset about it. I wonder if this means that I am all out of energy to fight for him to stay, or if I don’t want him to stay. Maybe a little bit of both. Lila asked me two nights ago if he had found a place, and at that point I didn’t know, so I said no he hasn’t. She was quiet a moment, then said “Well, that’s good for me, bad for you.” When did she get so wise?
6. I keep thinking about this boy I loved in high school. He was three years older and a foot shorter than me, chubby, with a white boy afro. Scott. He was really into laser discs before they were popular, and we watched movies in his room while his mother smoked in the kitchen and yelled at us to keep the door open. He told me about his girlfriend in Boston, and held my hand. In winter we pulled each other around on the ice on Sturdevant’s Pond on South St., which was equidistant from his house and mine. I wrote him poems, one that I calligraphy printed onto a scroll and gave to him for Christmas along with a giant Sugar Daddy. He came with me to my junior prom in spite of the girlfriend in Boston. We stayed out past my curfew and lay on our backs in the grass at my friend Kara’s house, listening to The Moody Blues and holding hands. I can’t remember if we kissed that night or not, but we did several times while listening to Bonnie Tyler on my bed when my parents were working. He gave me a ballet slippers poster for my wall, and a harlequin doll. I believed for a long time that we would end up together forever. I haven’t spoken to him in 28 years.
7. Do you ever get the feeling that nothing and everything are happening all at the same time?
I see I wasn’t the only sucker wide awake at 3am. That seriously sucked, and every time I started to doze back off, the dog jumped off the bed to scratch. I don’t know when he started doing that, but I think he thinks he’s being considerate to not scratch and shake the bed violently. Unfortunately, he usually ends up leaning right up against the edge of the bed, so I still get earthquaked awake. In between I was freaking out about the 70 minute presentation I have to give in three weeks that I haven’t begun to write, never mind build the visuals, and now I’m taking this poetry class again, and have a this musical in which I play three distinct characters, and have to learn four songs — one in Portuguese. No. For real. One in Portuguese. Oh, and still haven’t done my taxes, and the garden is upchucking so much food that needs to be processed, and market work is getting left in the dust of my mental breakdown due to the impending separation, maybe divorce. I could not shut my brain off, but refused to get up and work on anything. Now I need to get packed up for the market, and try to not behave as if Roseanne Barr hit me in the head with a cast iron skillet, because that’s pretty much what I’m feeling like at the moment. I made coffee and it’s the weakest pot of coffee ever. How does that happen? I measured. I ground it the same way I always grind it. Coffee gremlins had to have taken some out of the press before I added water. Today is going to be 90 degrees with 85% humidity, so that should be loads of fun working outside. I hope I don’t say anything mean to anyone who asks me why we don’t have bananas and avocados at our producer’s only market, because they don’t think they should have to make two stops if they’re going to support local farmers. OK, OK, nobody has said that this season. Yet.
Hey, all you insomniacs… let’s all go try to be functional members of society today, shall we?
I had a full-blown sciatica flareup again last night, and it was so bad that I decided to take one of the muscle relaxants from my episode last summer. Now I have a serious case of cotton head. The fogginess is so intense, that I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.
After Lila left for the bus at 10 till 7 this morning, I climbed back into bed and slept for two more hours with the window open and a cool breeze blowing across my face. The neighborhood was strangely silent for a Thursday. No lawn care equipment motors running, no street sweepers, garbage, or recycle collection trucks. Very little traffic. Just the sweet sound of crickets, birds, cicadas, an occasional child’s voice from an open window. I heard all of that in my sleep, I think.
When I finally made myself peel away from the mattress and took the dog for his morning walk, I was actually chilly without a sweater. My sour cherry tree lost about 1/3 of its leaves overnight, and the tree line out behind us is beginning to turn color.
Winter is coming.
Now I’m waiting for a friend to arrive so we can trade farm eggs for pickles, and it’s all I can do to not curl up on the couch and drift away again. The good news, I guess, is that the sciatica is quite a lot better this morning. I’ll keep doing pigeon pose to stretch the hip out, and try not to sit too much today, which will be challenging with how tired I feel. Guess I should process the 25 more cucumbers I picked last night - maybe a batch of Korean kimchee pickles.
We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be. The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down. So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren’t? How do we relieve ourselves of the false fronts of people-pleasing and affectation, the obsessive need for power and security, the backpack of old pain, and the psychic Spanx that keeps us smaller and contained?
Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.
I’ve been listening a lot to The 2nd Law lately (skipping past the dubstep nonsense, of course). It’s incredible, really. Like Queen on anabolic steroids. Matthew Bellamy’s voice stuns and amazes me.
And I don’t know a lot about his background as a songwriter, but listening to this, it seems pretty clear he was classically trained and is a particular fan of Romantic composers. I hear Rachmaninoff and Liszt. It’s lovely.
Up extra early (by at least two hours) this morning to get Lila off to her first day of middle school. She woke on her own with the alarm (I predict I will be dragging her out of bed by Monday), made her own lunch, and walked to the bus stop on her own. This is her first year riding the bus to the big school across town instead of walking or riding her bike (or getting driven) to our little neighborhood elementary. I don’t know why this seems like a big deal, but it is.
I’m bleary in the brain and my face feels all puffy. I was wide awake until almost 2am, and the alarm went off at 6:00.
Just looking at the early SST photo I posted last night and thinking how nice it is to see my legs as strong and shapely. When I was a kid my nickname was Stem Femme. I was six feet tall in middle school, and weighed about 110 lbs, so my legs looked like giant Ent twigs. Walking the dog every day has done wonders without much effort at all.
Unfortunately, he wants me to take him out for his walk right this minute, and all I can think about is climbing back into bed for a couple more hours of sleep. We’ve been walking at 9 most mornings all summer, so I really don’t think he should be sulking like this at my feet.
I hope this unmoored and aimless feeling doesn’t linger beyond today. It’s not as if Lila has been around all summer, she had four weeks of day camp, but this last week has been intense with her carrying the news of our impending separation and starting her menses all in the same day. She’s needed so much of me, often more than I can even muster to give, although somehow it has seemed enough for her. I hope. I think.
So… to walk now or sleep now? Even with a cup of coffee in me, my eyes want to close, so yeah, zzzzzzzzzzzz…