twit twit oh twitter twit

Just a quick note to mention that I've started tweeting. Well, actually, I haven't tweeted yet, but I did start an account, mostly so I could keep up with friends and bloggers who have protected accounts. If I'm not following you yet, let me know your moniker on Twitter!

Yawning in Technicolor (GROSS ALERT)

So...not last Saturday night, but the one before that, I got very, very sick. I went in the bathroom and came out several hours later, and then tried to sleep, but like clockwork, every freaking twenty to thirty minutes, my stomach would hurt and I'd have to go again.


Early the following afternoon, after I'd finally gotten a little sleep, my belly still hurt but I was pretty sure I was all done, on the grounds that there couldn't possibly be anything left to eject. So I tried to take my pills. On an ordinary day I take seven pills of various sizes, for various ailments, and I nearly always do them all in one gulp, no biggie. But not that day. No, that day will go down in history in our household as The Day I Barfed All Over Everything.


Immediately, the pills came up, along with great quantities of puke. My bedside trash receptacle was right there, only about half full and lined with a bag besides, but I thought I could make the three steps to the bathroom sink. I made it about half a step, and the unthinkable happened.


Casualties included my lampshade, my husband's ancient copy of Ender's Game, my History of God book, the gardening journal I spent months on, and various ointments and beauty treatments from the top of my nightstand. I am in the process of washing most of the clothing I own, because my clean laundry piles were in the splashdown range. Luckily I had finished LOTR, and actually put it away, and for once I didn't have any library books out, or I'd have had a grim phone call to make. If nothing else, I am unlikely to pile that much junk at my bedside ever again. Spouse was just horrified--he got what he could, and stripped the bed, but puke makes him puke and he had to get out of the room. It wasn't until last Sunday, when I was picking crud out of my clock radio, that I realized just how awful a tableau it must have been.


Spouse took good care of me--he got me to the doctor, made numerous trips to the pharmacy, and called to check on me from work, and made me the few foods I could think about eating, like instant mashed potatoes.


I'm not trying to be dramatic, but I have never, ever, EVER been in that much pain. Granted, I don't have much to compare it to--I've never had a baby, and I've only ever had a couple of surgeries, and the last one was in junior high. I'm very lucky to not have to deal with anything hurty on a regular basis like so many folks do. But this was almost a spiritual experience. When things stopped hurting so acutely, I found myself in this weird state of bliss and gratitude. (I should point out that I was pretty out of it once the Phernagan kicked in.)

Another strange thing: I SAW the phone ringing. I mean, I heard it, too, but this was freaky. I'd be lying there trying to read Bloom County cartoons, and instantly everything on the page would be distorted, like the panels had been printed on a layer of glass that suddenly shattered. I'd have the visual disturbance, and then I'd realize the phone was ringing. It went away immediately, but I've never had anything like that happen before.

I worked this week, though, without any problem. A couple people pointed out that my face had cleared up. I don't know if it was the not eating for a couple days, or the sweating, or what. I have a number of friends who will periodically go on "cleanses," eschewing food for a dubious cocktail of lemon juice, cayenne pepper, and honey or agave nectar. They'll do this for more than a week, which seems insane to me, and yet I can't help but wonder if maybe it's not completely nuts. I do know that my portions veer too large--especially when we're eating fast food or take-out--and that Twizzlers and I need to have a serious talk. Or maybe I'm allergic to milk or something. I don't know.

Things are mostly back to normal, although the other receptionist at work has been out with her own stomach troubles, and I'd feel terrible if she got them from me. Also the brown felted cardigan sweater I wore several times a week during the winter is still lurking in the laundry pile, possibly tainted. It's too nice to throw in the machine, so I have been assiduously avoiding it.

Yeah, go ahead and think I'm smiling at you

Spouse and I spend a lot of time watching movies, and currently we are viewing Alien and its spawn. We watch a lot of "action" films and thrillers, because that's largely what my husband owns. I am largely prejudiced against "action" films, being that I have "taste," and I am just too jumpy for thrillers. Frequently I interrupt movies at particularly gross or scary moments to proclaim, "If this gives me nightmares, I'm waking you up!"

But I really just came here to recount what we just saw over dinner, in Alien Cubed. (And yeah, as you may suspect, this series is pretty much Thumbs Down as far as dining viewing. Yaaack.) Sigourney Weaver, sporting a crew cut, bursts into a large room, where the Evil Warden of the all-male Prison Planet is hectoring the captives. Other than the last line, nothing is an actual movie quote.

Sigourney [panting]: Holy crap! The aliens are here! They're disgusting! We have to do something!

E.W.P.P.: Shut up! You are completely bonkers. You stupid woman. Ima gonna come over there an--

Alien [crawling onto E.W.P.P. from above]: Om nom nom.

Onlooking Prisoner: F--k!

People frequently react to my animated self-expression by dismissing me outright, telling me to calm down, saying that it's cute, or otherwise displaying condescension, and I suspect that's partly why I like this scene so much, but I'd probably like it anyway.

Short-form resolutions

This will probably sound odd, but sometimes what keeps me from blogging is having too much to say. Stuff will happen that I'll want to write about and I'm not at a point yet where I just come to this space and type. Now granted, I observe LOADS of interesting content at work (boy howdy) but literally trying to blog about it right then would be impossible.

So instead I wait until I'm "ready" to blog, and...hardly ever blog. Phooey.

And then I read about people who actually write for a living, getting sponsored by X or Y corporation, inking development deals with TV networks, etc. etc. and get very angry at myself for not writing.

So. Here are my ten New Year's resolutions in abbreviated form. I had this all written up as a handwritten entry but it didn't have an ending (I always have trouble with that). Also I don't know that it would have been legible. And Spouse would have probably fussed at me for privacy reasons. Anyway, here is my shortened list, with comments where appropriate.

Thing One: Read the Lord of the Rings, all 3 books. I've had a very nice hardcover edition since, um, 2003, that Spouse (then-LDPP, Long Distance Partner Person) gave me for Christmas. This Christmas we watched the movies again (all three in long-form director's cut editions, which makes for something like a week of viewing), and I think we might make that an annual holiday thing.

Thing Two: Read A History of God by Karen Armstrong. This will be worth it. I need to either underline or highlight as I read, or take notes, because I keep having to start all over again.

Thing Three: Read some Richard Dawkins. We went to see him speak at a nearby university a few months ago, and it was a Huge Deal, both going out and doing something with Spouse, and driving the hour-plus to get there. The very first cell phone picture I ever took is of Spouse getting his book signed, and it trips me out every time I see it.

Thing Four: Get back to doing yoga regularly. I have the options of reasonably priced classes that take place upstairs at my workplace, or of playing a DVD at home, and have taken advantage of neither.

Thing Five: Get involved in UU church. If I can't make the services (Sundays, 11 a.m., less than 2 miles away), join one of the umpty-million committees. They even have a Committee Committee, I shit you not (although they call it the "Committee Council," which I think is a Committee Cop-Out.)

Thing Six: Learn how to roast a chicken. (We get rotisserie chickens rather often, and I want to see if I can do it better, or as well.)

Thing Seven: Do some pro bono legal work. (Oh the drama! This will be like pulling teeth but it HAS to be done if I ever want to get a job as a lawyer. Which is not a question I can answer quickly or without crying.)

Thing Eight: Blog more regularly. Consider Tweeting, if only so I can respond to the people I read.

Thing Nine: Learn to deal with money anxiety. (Translation: learn to deal with, and not procrastinate on, student loan paperwork. See parethenses after Thing Seven.)

Thing Ten: Learn how to speak honestly and not freak out about whether people will like me afterwards. Unless I am talking to Spouse, a close family member, or a friend I feel truly safe with (this rarely happens, and is not so much a commentary on my friends as on my hangups), I repress. A LOT. (Spouse would pipe up here and say, "And then you come home and bitch at me about it!" Which is true.)

See, there have been a few occasions lately where I have spoken up, or been assertive, or at least not been a marshmallow, and it seems to inevitably Bite Me in the Ass, Hard. And I'm not sure what message I'm supposed to learn from that. One might think it would be about Thinking Before I Speak, or even Shhhhh, but I so rarely say what I'm really feeling, outside a therapeutic context (and even inside one sometimes, I'm ashamed to admit), and my self-worth is so desperately low, and has been for years and years, that I cannot believe that the takeaway is STFU. That would be nuts. I think maybe the takeaway is, "People are going to flip out no matter how carefully you phrase your truth, so you might as well JUST SAY IT and develop some self-protective behaviors so you don't flip out when they do." Or something like that.

I can't fret about this ending, because FUDGE, I have to leave for work in 20 minutes, and today's a shampoo day. Aieeee.

And so I rise

*begin angry rant*

Hey world! Guess what I had for breakfast? Toast, with actual carbs! And butter! Gorsh, I must be deeply unhappy with the world and my place in it. And the fact that the toast came from a loaf I actually baked? Aieeee, no wonder I'm morbidly obese! I have Issues with Flour! Somebody call somebody!

Please, Internet, tell me all the reasons I should hate myself and my body! Because I don't know how awful I look in clothes! Or how many years I'm taking off my life! Or all the Big Scary diseases I'm sure to develop! This is exactly the information I need to get motivated about Lifestyle Changes! I'm gonna go get one of those "30 Day Shred" DVDs RIGHT NOW, because you cared enough to tell me you don't want to sit next to me on an airplane! Thanks for caring about my "health," as you so euphemistically put it!

*shaking head* *end rant*

I should add that said toast was also garnished with honey, from a jar I received from my dearest friend, who was visiting from northern California and is a beekeeper in his spare time. The honey is incredibly complex in flavor; it's definitely sweet, but there are other notes in there as well. I'll have to work on describing it. It'd be great in savory applications, I bet.

This Christmas I actually got most of the baking done that I wanted to do, or at least all of the baking that was on deadline, for our families and a couple friends. Between last year (when I didn't do any baking, because I sliced a major finger open), and this year's Thanksgiving (when, at 2:00 in the morning, half of Dad's apple Bundt cake elected to stay in the pan), I guess some sort of vindication was in order.

*ahem* There were six kinds of cookies and two different breads. I made double batches of chewy chocolate chip, white chocolate-macadamia nut, and World Peace cookies. Most of the World Peace cookies (a.k.a. PMS Cookies, a.k.a. Chocolate Salty Balls) were eaten by me, since they came out looking like "cow pies," as one observer put it. Even if they were pretty I doubt many would have made it out of the house. (Issues!)

I made a pan of raspberry bars, mostly because with this recipe*, they are very satisfying to make: you take the shortbread dough and chill it in logs, and once they are good and cold, you shred the logs into the pan, using the big holes of a grater. So the dough ends up looking exactly like mozzarella cheese. Then you spoon out a jar of raspberry preserves, and then another layer of dough. Trying to even out brownie batter with a spatula makes me nuts, so I really love this approach. It's the kind of "Shred" I can actually accomplish. (Seriously, I'm done. Promise.)

I made a regular batch of oatmeal raisin with golden raisins, because my regular raisins were in brick form. And I finally busted out the pizzelle maker I got from Dad last year, which was actually kind of fun. Pizzelles are Italian cookies made on a device similar to a waffle iron. They actually taste a lot like waffle ice cream cones, and could conceiveably be rolled into cones themselves, but I haven't had the nerve to try that yet. My Italian grandmother was known for mailing out huge, insured packages of pizzelles and other goodies several times a year, and one summer when we were visiting I got to help her make them.

There were also 3 challah braids and two loaves of wheat bread. The wheat bread came out really well. I started it at 8 one evening so it didn't come out of the oven until (sensing a pattern here) 2:00 a.m., but the house smelled insanely good. ("Worth it!" she declared triumphantly, with BBC news on the radio and dough stuck in her hair.) I need to make bread more often, as Spouse loves the challah but all 3 were spoken for, and I really do like making it. My braids always look lumpy and frumpy at first but then they rise for another hour and even themselves out.

________________________________________
*Please note that mine do NOT come out perfectly distributed, like the ones pictured. Sheesh.

Why am I surprised that I already have a category for that?

Wheeeee! What else can I do to procrastinate on Christmas Cheer? I know, I'll blog something!

I have printed out one million recipes and have to go through and make lists of what absolutely has to get made, what will have to wait for later, and what will be tossed altogether on account of being too fussy.

And blah blah blah, I know I will feel so much better if I Just Get Started. I hate this aspect of myself. This is what I always do when I feel overwhelmed by too many things on my list: wait until the last minute. Then it doesn't matter if the cookies (or the take-home exam, in a past life, or the student loan paperwork, or the house chores) aren't done absolutely perfectly--it simply matters that they get done.

Work continues to be dysfunctional, full of petty hurts and whispered conversations and other paper cuts, and yet: me working, just part-time, not for any major bucks, has rather transformed our marriage. It's kind of freaky, and it makes me cling to the job that much harder despite the psychodrama. But nowadays, when we both come home more nights than not exhausted and brain-dead, for some reason, we get along so much better--so much so that if it comes down to it and I find myself having to find some other not-law job, I will do it, in a heartbeat.

Or maybe I will start doing the schmoozing, volunteering, mass resume mailing, and other things one has to do to get networked in the legal community here. That's the real answer. I keep waiting for my dream job to land in my lap and that's not going to happen without legwork on my part. Well, it's more head-work than anything else: getting over the last several years, or if not getting over 'em, getting to a point where I can discuss my "career," such as it is, without needing to cry afterward (or during).

Arrgh. But! I can procrastinate on Career Crap by NOT procrastinating on Christmas Cra--er, y'know, Cheer, Christmas Cheer. Well then! Off to deal with my kitchen!

Stuff it

[Ed. note: Thanks to Swistle for the encouragement that got me back here.]

I am in a bit of a tailspin about several things, some more serious than others.

-A friend got me a part-time temporary gig doing reception. It has done me a world of good to spend more time out of the house and to earn a bit of pocket money. However, the adjustment was a lot harder than I thought it would be, and it remains surprisingly stressful. Spouse was overjoyed when I began coming home in a zombie-like state, frequently holding out a bag of fast food ("Chicken fingerrrrrrs!"), because it drives him nuts when he comes home exhausted and I'm all boingy and hyper and eager to talk to a person instead of the radio.

-A few months ago I joined the local Unitarian Universalist church, which has been really great. Through there I got to be friends with a bunch of people who are into paganism, a religion I was sort of interested in. I have since figured out that paganism, at least in the community I fell into, involves a shit-ton of attendant drama, not to mention stigma in the wider world, and for me it's just not worth it. I am trying to figure out how to continue to spend time with the folks I really like, without roping myself into a potluck dinner every other week, without endangering my employability, and without feeling bad for lacking props and costumes.

-I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with my law degree. I came across a ten-question quiz in a book I was reading about alternative careers for lawyers. Those answering even one question in the affirmative are advised to "seriously reconsider using your degree to actually practice law." I answered EVERY SINGLE QUESTION in the affirmative. Ordinarily I'd go off on this at length but I spent most of the weekend crying about it. Besides:

-It's freaking Thanksgiving! Tomorrow after work I will do a major shopping run and buy baking potatoes, trimmings for said potatoes, "stuff for salad," and whatever I need for whatever Bundt cake I decide to make for Dad's birthday. My brother will be doing steaks. That will be Wednesday night.

In preparation for Thursday, I will also get stuffing stuff, and if I get really crazy, cornbread stuff, since I actually have the requisite skillet now.

We still have to decide whether to go to my mom's house or to his sister's house. Both families know that I agonize about this every year, and have told us not to worry if we can't make it to both.

Hearing that, Spouse suggested we get takeout Peking duck and eat at our house, by ourselves, with neither family being the wiser. I'm seriously considering it.