So many things to write about; if only I could overcome this apparently chronic case of fuzzy brain. Well, "fuzzy" is descriptive, but maybe not entirely accurate. Sometimes, I'm as sharp as the proverbial X-acto knife, but then whatever brilliant and sparkling clear insight happens to occur during those moments disappears as quickly as it arrives, leaving me thinking "What was that thing? About the guy, and the Potsdam Conference? Or was it the Yalta Agreement? Damn it, I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer. What time is it? Where are my sunglasses, damn it! And did I pay the phone bill?"
*****
Aside from January's monster snowstorm, we've had a relatively mild winter, but winter is winter and by the end of February, I'm always ready for it to be over. That's why I'm downright offended by the sight of snow on March Bloody 19th. What's that saying again? March: In like a bitch, out like a damn whore. Thankfully, we didn't have any sports or other outdoor activities today. Instead, we went to one of my very favorite annual events: The Friends of the Library used book sale at the Aspen Hill Library. I spent $5.70, and got the following:
The Blue Flower, Penelope Fitzgerald. I love Penelope Fitzgerald so much that I bought this even though I already had a copy. This one has a prettier cover. Now I can lend the other one and not worry about whether or not I get it back.
Please Don't Eat the Daisies, Jean Kerr. Another one that I already have. This was a 35-cent Crest Books edition from 1959. Click here if you want to read what I wrote about this book.
A Woman in Jerusalem, A.B. Yehoshua. I have no idea, but I liked the cover blurbs.
Holidays on Ice, David Sedaris. I still laugh my head off at "You Can't Kill the Rooster."
The Pocket Book of Ogden Nash. I love old Pocket Books. This one is from 1962, so it was already old when a previous owner used a dentist's appointment reminder card from 1997 as a bookmark.
With All Disrespect: More Uncivil Liberties, Calvin Trillin.
If You Lived Here, You'd be Home by Now, Claire LaZebnik. She seems delightful. Maybe I'll send for a signed bookplate.
The Americans: The National Experience, Daniel Boorstin. I'm reading The Democratic Experience now.
Life and Death in Shanghai, Nien Cheng. Sometimes I read about the Cultural Revolution, when I need a break from the gulag.
More Tales of the City, Armistead Maupin.
Away, Amy Bloom. No idea about this one, either. I'll find out soon enough.
*****
The $5.70 that I spent also included a few books about Navy ships and magic tricks, selected by my 11-year-old son, who is now sitting on my couch with his best friend, singing "(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (to Party.)" Apparently, you don't, though. I'm sitting on my couch at 8:15 on a Saturday night writing about used books and memory loss, and if that's not a party gone out of bounds, then I don't know what is. I'll keep this up until some damn busybody calls the cops and shuts the whole clambake down. Then, I suppose, I'll wander into the kitchen and promptly forget why I'm there. This is no place for lightweights, so try to keep up.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Sunday, March 13, 2016
What not to wear
I'm back to work full-time, at a real job, in a real office. The first week went very well. At least, I think it went well. I'm not sure how my boss feels, but a good time was had by me. Much to my dismay and chagrin, however, none of my coworkers wear yoga pants and t-shirts to work. So that means that my other work uniform of flannel pajama pants and a hoodie is probably also just outside the confines of the dress code.
Shopping isn't my least favorite thing in the world, because dental surgery and toilet cleaning are worse. I went shopping yesterday with my usual total lack of enthusiasm, and forced myself to try things on before I bought them. I don't feel comfortable in most work-appropriate things, but I suppose that work isn't necessarily the place to feel comfortable. I even bought some things.
Every so often, I decide that I need to try clothes that are different from what I usually wear. I always wear this color, I'll think, or all of my tops are cut the same way. I should try something else. But then I do, and I realize that there's a reason why all of my clothes look the same. So now I'll need to return most of what I bought yesterday, and go buy some newer versions of the kinds of things that I always wear. Super fun. Dental surgery still retains its previous rank, but toilet-cleaning just moved up a notch.
Shopping isn't my least favorite thing in the world, because dental surgery and toilet cleaning are worse. I went shopping yesterday with my usual total lack of enthusiasm, and forced myself to try things on before I bought them. I don't feel comfortable in most work-appropriate things, but I suppose that work isn't necessarily the place to feel comfortable. I even bought some things.
Every so often, I decide that I need to try clothes that are different from what I usually wear. I always wear this color, I'll think, or all of my tops are cut the same way. I should try something else. But then I do, and I realize that there's a reason why all of my clothes look the same. So now I'll need to return most of what I bought yesterday, and go buy some newer versions of the kinds of things that I always wear. Super fun. Dental surgery still retains its previous rank, but toilet-cleaning just moved up a notch.
Monday, March 7, 2016
My work here is done
I was supposed to start my new job today, but my start date was pushed back to tomorrow. No big deal, except that I had no other work to do and I don't do very well with unplanned free time. I made chili, and I washed my car, and I exercised and did some housework. I also worked on my book, and read for a bit. Still, it seemed like a rather wasted day.
Oh, and I watched TV--IFC is running a "Rocky" marathon. I never get tired of Rocky. And I cleaned some windows that were sorely in need of cleaning. And researched some quick weeknight meal ideas; with my new full-time job, I'll need to plan dinners ahead of time. And still, I felt like I had too much time on my hands.
Plus I drove one kid to school, and then drove to the high school to drop off something that the other kid forgot and begged me to bring to him. While I was driving, I rehearsed the speech that I'll need to give him, the one about not forgetting things at home because I won't be home to deliver them to him at school. And then, of course, I wrote this nonsense, too. And it still felt like I didn't do very much.
This is what happens when you're really busy for a really long time. Like full-time working, raising children, volunteering, driving children to sports and activities, going to school, moving, moving again, changing jobs, changing jobs again, compulsive housecleaning busy. You get accustomed to that level of activity, and then you just don't know how to fill the empty time when any one or more of those things don't need doing anymore. And this is only one day.
Well, a week from now, I'm sure I won't be wondering how to fill my time. Meanwhile, dinner is already cooked, at 4:20 PM. What to do with the rest of the evening? Yo! Adrian!
Oh, and I watched TV--IFC is running a "Rocky" marathon. I never get tired of Rocky. And I cleaned some windows that were sorely in need of cleaning. And researched some quick weeknight meal ideas; with my new full-time job, I'll need to plan dinners ahead of time. And still, I felt like I had too much time on my hands.
Plus I drove one kid to school, and then drove to the high school to drop off something that the other kid forgot and begged me to bring to him. While I was driving, I rehearsed the speech that I'll need to give him, the one about not forgetting things at home because I won't be home to deliver them to him at school. And then, of course, I wrote this nonsense, too. And it still felt like I didn't do very much.
This is what happens when you're really busy for a really long time. Like full-time working, raising children, volunteering, driving children to sports and activities, going to school, moving, moving again, changing jobs, changing jobs again, compulsive housecleaning busy. You get accustomed to that level of activity, and then you just don't know how to fill the empty time when any one or more of those things don't need doing anymore. And this is only one day.
Well, a week from now, I'm sure I won't be wondering how to fill my time. Meanwhile, dinner is already cooked, at 4:20 PM. What to do with the rest of the evening? Yo! Adrian!
Thursday, March 3, 2016
Out of the frying pan
Recipes always list insanely optimistic cooking times for chicken, don't they? "Roast for 20 minutes at 425." And then take it out and put it right back in for at least 25 more minutes. And I don't know how to type a degree sign, and I'm not going to bother to look that up. You're smart people, you'll read that as 425 degrees.
Working from home, 100% of the time, has given me more time to think about housekeeping and its relative importance and just how much time is reasonable to spend on cleaning and cooking and making things generally pleasant and livable. I have mixed feelings about housekeeping. On the one hand, it's relentless and repetitive and it's never done, no matter what. Even if the house is perfect, someone is going to need to eat something, or shower, or sleep in a bed, or change their clothes at some time in the very near future, and then it won't be perfect anymore; there will be one more thing out of order; one more thing to clean.
On the other hand, I can't even pretend that it's not rewarding, because it is. Something is dirty, and I apply some effort, and then it's clean. The result is visible, immediate, and quite satisfying. When everything else is utter chaos, I know that I can at least whip the house into shape, and then something will be firmly under my control. Temporarily under control, of course (refer to previous paragraph) but still under control.
Things are going to change, though, and very soon. After this week, I'll no longer be working exclusively from home. I loved my job, but it's feast or famine for contractors, with a strong bias toward famine. I haven't worked full-time for years, but it's time to put on some real clothes and get out of the house. If I leave it alone, maybe it will clean itself.
Working from home, 100% of the time, has given me more time to think about housekeeping and its relative importance and just how much time is reasonable to spend on cleaning and cooking and making things generally pleasant and livable. I have mixed feelings about housekeeping. On the one hand, it's relentless and repetitive and it's never done, no matter what. Even if the house is perfect, someone is going to need to eat something, or shower, or sleep in a bed, or change their clothes at some time in the very near future, and then it won't be perfect anymore; there will be one more thing out of order; one more thing to clean.
On the other hand, I can't even pretend that it's not rewarding, because it is. Something is dirty, and I apply some effort, and then it's clean. The result is visible, immediate, and quite satisfying. When everything else is utter chaos, I know that I can at least whip the house into shape, and then something will be firmly under my control. Temporarily under control, of course (refer to previous paragraph) but still under control.
Things are going to change, though, and very soon. After this week, I'll no longer be working exclusively from home. I loved my job, but it's feast or famine for contractors, with a strong bias toward famine. I haven't worked full-time for years, but it's time to put on some real clothes and get out of the house. If I leave it alone, maybe it will clean itself.
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