Continuation

18. Who was the last person you emailed? RC

19. Ever go camping? Are you nucking futs? That is to say, no, I've never been camping.

20. Do you have a tan? I was born with a tan. Well, truth be told, not fully. Family lore relates that it took a few days for the color on my fingers and toes to appear all the way to their respective tips.

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw? Presuming, of course, that I drink soda which I so very rarely do. On those few occasions, no, I do not use a straw.

22. What did your last IM say? It said, "success!! 1 wheat left, I nabbed it!!"

23. Are you some one's best friend? Yes, I've been told by two individuals that I am indeed their best friend. I feel very lucky to have both of them in my life.

24. What are you doing tomorrow? That sounds eerily like my mother's, "what's on your agenda for tomorrow?" Well, work. It will be Monday and I will be working from around 8 am to 4:55 pm. Beyond that, who knows?

25. Where is your mom right now? Right this second, I hope she's in bed in her apartment. Her apartment is about a mile away from my humble abode.

26. Look to your left, what do you see? My printer and a shelving unit holding various stuffed animals, digital camera & printer dock, photos, books, greeting cards and mementos.

27. What color is your watch? Black and silver

28. What do you think of when you think of Australia? "The Crocodile Hunter" and kangaroos

29. Would you consider plastic surgery? Plastic surgery makes me think...operations on Tupperware. Would I consider cosmetic surgery? Generally speaking, no.

30. What is your birthstone? Ruby

31. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Well, since I don't have a car and most fast food management frowns upon walking or riding your bicycle through the drive-thru, I go inside. Though, I tend to stay away from fast food joints, as a general rule of thumb. Some weeks, I am weak.

32. How many kids do you want? I have all I've ever wanted, if I did in fact, want them. I don't recall ever really having the thought..."I want kids" but I suppose as they are, you know, here, I must have, if even for an instant, wanted. Of course after having had them, I can't imagine life without them. Do I want any more? No, I don't. Grandchildren, perhaps.

33. Do you have a dog? Technically she's the daughter's dog, but I take turns at feeding, walking, petting and loving, so yes, I do have a Diamond of a dog.

34. Last person you talked to on the phone? Neta. It's always Neta.

35. Have you ever met anyone famous? No, not really.

36. Any plans today? Well, today is pretty much done. I plan to go to bed in about an hour.

37. How many states have you lived in? Just the one, this one, Illinois.

38. Ever to go college? Yes, for awhile. The plan is to continue, someday.

39. Where are you right now? At home, in my "corner office" listening to music, sipping a cocktail and completing this exercise.

40. Biggest annoyance in your life right now? That I'll probably finish my cocktail before I finish this post.

41. Last song listened to? This.

42. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all time time? Tan Vans (not quite, but close) that I try to convince myself go with everything. They don't really, but they are soooo comfortable.

43. Are you allergic to anything? Hmmm...weird, Neta asked me this question (specifically related to food(s) though, just this evening. I did have allergies to citric acid and citrus fruits. I think I still do, to a degree but they've lessened as I've gotten older.

44. Are you jealous of anyone? No, not really.

45. Is anyone jealous of you? Beats me, I don't know why anyone would be.

46. What time is it? 11:51 p.m.

47. Do any of your friends have children? Nearly all of my friends have children / adults who were once children. Neta (& my own son and daughter) are about the only people I know (besides co-workers and at least one family member) who don't have children.

48. Do you eat healthy? Generally, save the weak moments.

49. What do you usually do during the day? I don my super-hero costume and scour the world looking for wrongs to right. During the slow times I scour my insurance company's dentist directory looking for a new dentist.

50. Do you hate anyone right now? No. In my experience hate punishes the hater more than the hatee.There are much more constructive uses of my time and energies. Present exercise excluded. I thought for a long time that I hated my father ( & at various points, my brothers) but I don't think I ever really did.

51. Do you use the word hello daily? Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I do.

52. How old will you be turning on your next birthday? 48. Forty-eight. 4 8 I'll be turning 48 in 16 days. Yum, as I plan to have cake, a good cake.

53. Have you ever been to Six Flags? Yes, even before (the one here in Illinois) was called Six Flags. I never enjoyed amusement parks as a child and if not for my own kids would likely have not stepped into another as an adult.

54. How did you get one of your scars? A few are carry overs from childhood. There were / are the obligatory bicycle and playground falls. I have a scar on my left index finger from an adult mishap with a knife. I also have a scar on my back from a lipoma removal.

Whew done, except for the questions posed in the comments from Post 358, What sound do I hear right now? The music and the jingling of the Diamond's tags. What bug do I hate the most? I'm not really freaked out by bugs, I do get the heebie jeebies when I see creepie crawlies, but not so much that I can't dispatch them. I suppose if I had to pick...spiders, centipedes and millipedes would take the prize.

And...am I going to have a nice weekend? Well, I did. It wasn't deliriously wicked, but it was peaceful and chock full of sporting events. I even got to see my daughter play soccer, what a treat!

Ta ta for now.

Post 358

I lifted this from TSOL because...well, just because.

1. What is in the back seat of your car right now? Like Annelle I don't have a car. However, I have been described as having junk in the trunk.

2. When was the last time you threw up? Hmmmm....I don't remember. It's been quite awhile. Pete, the cat! threw up last week.

3. What is your favorite curse word? SHIT. Because it is the first (and probably only) curse word my mother heard me say. I was young and pretending to being lured to cutting school/class. Some building bully (we lived in a housing project) asked challenged if I was going to school. I sneered, "SHIT NO!" My mother snatched open a door I hadn't known she was standing behind and pulled me inside more to get me away from the bully than to punish me for cursing, I think. My older brother laughed at my use of shit in that way. He said, "You should have said "Fuck No!" He got slapped. I went to school.

4. Name 3 people who made you smile today? Smile...I flat out laughed with Neta and D today as I do many days while talking with them. I smiled at the thought of this being the final day for one of my most annoying co-workers.

5. What were you dong at 8 a.m. this morning? Having started my work day some 10 minutes prior, I had booted up the computer, was checking emails, eating my boiled eggs and moving on to my apple and sipping some coffee.

6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Signing checks and forwarding them for the second signature prior to mailing.

7. What will you be doing 3 hours from now? Sofa sittin', feet up, sippin' a beer, most likely.

8. Have you ever been to a strip club? Nope

9. What is the last thing you said aloud? "Bring it On." to Neta, who was on the phone, teasing me.

10. What is the best ice cream flavor? Is this a trick question? Any kind of chocolate. Though Neta and I had a rainbow w/fruit waffle cone at the Taste that might just allow me to forget that I'm a recovering chocoholic. Yum.

11. What was the last thing you had to drink? tap water

12. :::crickets:::

13. What was the last thing you ate? -hehehehe- Sorry, mind still on Neta's teasing. Seriously, a roast beef & turkey sub sandwich.

14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week? No, not this week. Not last week, likely not next week. But the week after...I have an anniversary party to attend on 8/2. I need something new for that, but I don't know what. I am NOT looking forward to shopping. I really DO NOT like shopping. Especially for clothes. Though not as traumatized by the thought of it as I once was, still...

15. When was the last time you ran? Ran? Ran what? Myself? Sheesh...1997 maybe? No, I have probably engaged in some kind of hurry step, close to a run, maybe a couple, three weeks ago? Maybe? Generally...I. Don't. Run. Ouch. Hurts just thinking about it.

16. What is the last sporting event you watched? I fell asleep on the sofa watching Sacramento vs LA Sparks. The Monarchs were winning. I woke up to Chivas vs LA Galaxy. Chivas was winning. I watched maybe another 5 minutes, then went to bed.

17. :::crickets::::

Does anyone know what questions 12 and 17 -were- ever? I was going to insert my own questions, but instead I'll put it out to you ladies (guys too if there are any out there), anything you'd like to ask (besides...who will & when re: moving, that is currently under advisement), fire away. There are however, many more questions to this thing, but I must leave this now as I've co-opted enough work minutes to this exorcise, I'll pick it up some time later.

Happy Friday. Have a deliriously wicked weekend, if you dare.

10:40 p.m.

I was on the floor. I don’t know why, really, I continue to get on the floor to lounge. Being on the floor is comfortable enough, depending on certain conditions and circumstances. It is the getting off the floor that presents the challenges and various aches and pains. It takes nearly forever and sometimes forever and a day to roll up to a standing position.

Anyway, I was on the floor when the phone rang. It was a distinctive ring so I knew the caller to be mom. (Aside: Recently, I’d discovered that somehow my mom’s assigned ring tone had been changed to mimic Neta’s. I’d answered a –mom- call by saying, “hey, baby love.” I recovered quickly enough I don’t think she noticed, much.)

Anyway, mom called at 10:40 p.m. last night and after confirming that I was not in bed (an inference as to how long it took to answer the phone) told me that she’d spoken with M and, “he didn’t sound good.” I was about to opine that he was probably tired, when her call waiting beeped and she excused herself to answer the other call.

While she was gone, I was thinking that I should probably just go to bed, I was mostly dozing anyway, Neta and I had already talked and certainly there wasn’t anything compelling on the tube. I was shutting things down when mom returned to say she’d talk to me later. Trumped again.

This morning I called M just to confirm that his “not sounding good” was in fact, fatigue. It was. His long work day was topped off by a very hastily planned and very long photo shoot, publicity shots for a new play he’s doing. He relayed that he’d spoken with mom this morning as well. She got started at about 7:30, warning him off the planned meeting with the (former?) gf. Mom was concerned that gf could be trying to “set him up.” For what, neither of us could figure. Mom tossed around some Sodom and Gomorrah references at which point, M begged off, citing that work beckoned.

I’m quite sure that I haven’t heard the last of these warnings or other tidbits related to the (former?) gf. However, I am sure that I won’t be getting back on the floor anytime soon.

It has not been a stellar day and work is not helping, at all.

Time Gone By, Slowly

As usual I’ve had a difficult time adjusting to life after Neta. This time made more difficult by the fact that she was here, in my space(s). Gracing them, for sure, while she was here, haunting them now that she’s gone.

I only thought I knew how she felt when I was doing the leaving.

Her laughter, my very favorite of her sounds, resonates throughout. Her hair (the thought of it) tickles my nose at night. Her scent lingeres on pillowcases I’ve been reluctant to launder.

It’s been hard.

One might think that M’s relationship issues, crazy shit at work, mom’s concerns about the social security administration being out to get her, D’s not-having a-car woes, my own on-going battle with weight-fullness, killer cramps, slightly throbbing knees and an oddly painful right heel would keep me occupied enough, keep my mind from wandering back to the void, would keep me from losing every thought except this: Neta was here and now she isn't.

If you think any of that has kept my mind off missing her royally, think again.

Change of Plan

The 4th holiday was to have included my son & his girlfriend, my daughter & her boyfriend, baked chicken, spaghetti, potato salad, corn on-the-cob and apple pie. He called around 2 p.m. and announced that they wouldn’t be coming over.

Son: I don’t think this is going to work out.

He broke it all down in the next two hours. I listened, commented and advised where I could.
More of the same came on Saturday. I was out running errands and doing laundry when he called the cell. He needed to work it all out in his head, in my ear.

Son: Save the spaghetti, I think I’ll be able to come through on Sunday.

The word came late (very late) Saturday night.

Son: Well, it’s done. She wasn’t interested in a slow down, it was all or nothing. She put my stuff and a box and asked me to leave. I’m walking home now. I feel . . . ok.

We talked for three hours late Saturday night/ early Sunday morning. I learned more about what he felt their problems were and what he’d tried to work through them. I listened, commented and re-assured where I could.

He didn’t come over on Sunday, so the spaghetti (and the pie) will be on ice.

PS...He called just before I clicked Publish Post-

Son: She called. She felt like things spun out of control and wonders if we can meet some time next week.

A Few Pictures & Words

arrive, scent, lovely, bags, view, hotel, room, comfy, martini, olives stuffed with bleu cheese, Pride, parade, taste fest, fun, smiles, sun, walking, trains, buses, crowds, quiet, son, loud, daughter, pina colada, margarita, ambitious (too), tired, sleep, buff, snore, dog, cat, tacos, spicy, rainbow ice cream, fruit, coconut rice, Chicago, border, worries, none, deep dish pizza, lost, found, knees, tendons, pain, tears, laughter, dancing, thumpa thumpa, Roscoe’s, boys town, more, less, pictures, cook, order, donuts, iced coffee, patience, lack thereof, showers, home, where, don't, go, want, need, happy, sad, hugs, kisses, holding hands & more…again. Soon. Please.

Love. Supreme.

I Confess

I’m nervous about Neta’s visit.

When the idea originally germinated it didn’t seem like a real possibility for many reasons. For a time she’d labored over the idea that I didn’t want her here. I have, from the very first time I visited her, dreamt of her coming to visit me here. Though, I must confess, I probably gave off vibes to indicate otherwise.

As this germinated idea began to take root and we decided to just go with it, damn all the work, damn all the details, damn all the…everything, I got beyond excited about the prospect. Yet I confess I got anxious. I also got nervous. Anxious over all there was to accomplish.

The nervousness exists on many fronts.

During one of our email sessions today I was on a rant about work. We’re recruiting and the interview process is, well, in a word, stupid. On and on about this I went. Neta’s final message back to me said in essence…just think, in a few days, I’ll be there. We’ll get to the hotel, un-wind with a de-stressing cocktail and relax. Relax. Relax. And oh yeah, we’ll eat and have sex too! So, F*k ‘em all. So, I am forgetting about work for now. I’m in full preparing, waiting and dreaming of Neta mode. Saturday afternoon cannot come soon enough. I wish it would.

Still, I confess to being nervous. However, I’m getting less so as the hours tick away.

Predictable

Fade In:
The apartment isn’t shut down for the night yet at just a shade beyond 10 p.m. The alarm is armed but the computer is still up and a lamp continues to burn. Stretched out on the bed/sofa, sipping on daughter’s version of a Pena Colada, waiting for Neta to call, I tune in Logo’s sanitized version of QAF.

Then I'm out.

The next conscious moment comes at 2:30 a.m. I’m not sure what woke me, probably the thumpa thumpa of the QAF re-run being broadcast at that time. I do a walk-thru, making sure all is well, use the bathroom and shut down the computer. I realize I’d not spoken to Neta, so I call.

Neta: Hey baby, what are you doing up?
Me: Not up, really. I slept and something woke me up.
Neta: Well, by the time it slowed down enough for me to call you, it was late and I didn’t want to wake you.
Me: Yeah, I know. I figured. I just wanted to call to say hey. And I love you, and goodnight.
Neta: Goodnight baby. I’ll call you in the morning.

I settle down to sleep a bit more. It won’t come, at least not until nearly 4 and even then it was fitful. The remnants of a dream niggled at my edges.

Neta, D and I were in a house. Not the condo, not Neta’s house. It was some other place. For some reason I’m up very early re-decorating. I’m moving a narrow baker’s rack type shelving full of pots and pans. For some reason I don’t remove the pans. I carry the laden shelving to some type of pantry without dropping a thing. Miraculous, I’m thinking, when my attention is diverted to a hole in a wall. The hole looks like an opening for the beginnings of a small window.
Curious, I look through. I see a lump. Suddenly the lump begins to lumber toward the opening, toward me. I don’t shriek until the lumbering lump takes a leap. I see that it is a HUGE striped tabby. I mean HUGE. Huge, but not like a real cat. This cat was a cartoon-y, puppet-like cat. The fur was felt. The eyes like buttons. But it was HUGE. And it moved. Slow and then fast. Only the head fit through the opening I realized after I’d backed into the shelving, crashing all the pots and pans. Neta appeared at the doorway to the pantry with a WHAT THE FUCK look on her face.

I got up, showered and such, fixed a cup of coffee, ate a watermelon slice and got dressed. D got up shortly after and when she was ready, we left.

D nearly spit out her iced coffee when I told her the dream on our way to the train.

Kinda Out of It

D: What happened to you?

Me: What you do mean? When?

D: Last night. You didn’t hear him?

Me: No. What did he do?

D: Your crazy cat was on his crazy cat shit last night. He scratched at my door, was meowing like…well, like crazy. When I opened my door he darted in here. I can’t sleep with him in the room so I led him out. He kept up the meowing and scratching for awhile.

Me: When was this?

D: Last night, about 11:30, 12:00 something like that, I think.

Me: Hmmmm…I didn’t hear a thing. He didn’t mess with me. He wasn’t even the reason I
woke up at 4:30 this morning. What did Diamond do?

D: Nothing, she slept through it too. I even called you “hey, hey, mom” and…nothing.

Me: Well, oh well. And by the way, my cat isn’t crazy. He’s just spirited.

D: Yeah, spirited, when he’s disrupting my sleep.

It is just Thursday. Bummer. Nine More Days.

Off Stride

How is it that a body can awake 2 ½ hours before it is time to leave for work and still forget to eat breakfast? And because said body forgot to eat breakfast she also forgot to take her meds (just a vitamin and water pill) not any big deal, but still, gives her a wonky feeling.

Lunch will have to come earlier than usual. Ugh.

Honor The Father

What do you say to a father with whom you have no relationship? To a man who alternated between ignoring and making loving declarations over the course of your 47 years? To a man who you’d like to call dad, but can just manage…

James,
It would be more dramatic to begin by saying that the storms that rolled through here about 7 this morning startled me from my slumber. To begin by saying that the thunder, lightning and the crash of tree parts and other debris into cars and onto the streets was a most un-settling way to begin the day would be, in truth, not the beginning of my day, though yes, it was un-settling.

My day began three hours earlier thanks to Pete, the cat! He started, per usual at about 4 with his meows, chin chucking and various other actions trying to rouse me. I did my best to ignore him and eventually he sauntered away, to sit and stare. By six, we decide it was time to eat. He feasts on a breakfast of turkey and giblets, I have cereal and a banana.

The storms roll in at 7 and Pete, the cat is a tad un-nerved. He was perched on the sill of one of the open windows. The crashes and lightning sent him skittering. He’s been pacing about, not quite sure of what to make of all the whirling and blowing. I close the windows against the growing breezes for fear that they might turn from refreshing to violent. Neither of us would welcome that eventuality.

I know you’re wondering, who the heck is Pete, the cat? Well, I adopted a cat at the urging of D, my daughter. You remember my daughter, don’t you? True, she was what…9 or 10 the last time you saw her? But I’ve spoken of her in the many letters I’ve sent in the interim. She’s nearly 23 now and working as a vet tech at one of the local animal shelters. The adoptions didn’t stop at Pete, the cat. Diamond, diva dog, also calls our condo home. Diamond and D will be moving as soon as my daughter can get all her ducks in a row. I’ll miss them both, but when it’s that time, well, it is.

There have been many other changes in my life, our lives since we last saw or even spoken to one other. M, my son graduated from college and has been pursuing a career in the theatre. He is working a “day” job that is very satisfying and will serve to provide him the security to continue to pursue his passions. He moved out a year ago and while I’ve stumbled on turning what was his space in the condo, into my space, the time has come for me to forge full speed ahead with that/those projects.

For the biggest change in the past few years is that I’ve fallen in love. The love is on her way, yes…her way here for the first time. I’ve visited her on a number of occasions because it was easier (since I have daughter here and such), but now…she wants to visit Chicago, me and see, rather than hear, how I live. When it’s that time, well, it is.

I don’t remember when you and I have last talked verbally or in print, but I do remember the contexts. I remember you’re stating, trying to assure me that you love me. I have to tell you, I find your declarations hard to believe given what we’ve shared, or rather haven’t, for the bulk of my 47 years. But, never fear I no longer dwell on whether or not you love me or vice versa. That part doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re my father and I would like to, at the very least know you and vice versa. So, on this day, the day set aside for children to honor their fathers, allow me to say, I hope that your life has been and continues to be all you hoped and dreamed. I hope your health and that of your wife allows for relaxing enjoyment during these golden years. Finally father, I hope you are happy.

I hope, you hope, the same for me.
Your only daughter, Deborah

I guess I would start there, maybe.

Start. Stop. Up. Down. Twist. Shout.

I'm all over the place these days. My mind is going a million miles a minute. There is a condo to brighten and shine. There are supplies and foodstuffs to stock. There is excitement to keep on an even keel, if at all possible.

Neta is coming to town. Soon, fifteen days to be exact.

Oh me, oh my...Neta is coming. Neta. Is. Coming.

Top?

I'm trying not to read too much into Chef Izard being featured in one of the local rags today. In fact, over the past several days there have been a number of Stephanie sightings (and reports). Per this most recent newspaper article, Stephanie is scouting locations for a new Chicago restuarant she's planning to open. Did she pack her knives in defeat or victory? I'll be tuning in tonight to see. Go Iz!

A,B,C more about MeMe

No doubt you've seen this nearly everywhere. Here's my jumping on band-wagon effort:
A is for your age: in a few weeks I'll be forty-eight.

B is for your burger choice: Beef, pink, spicy and hella good.

C is for the car you drive: none, zero, zip, na-da, making those extend your warranty calls on the voicemail every other day pretty annoying. This is your final warning. Don't delay, press 2 to speak with a representative to extend your warranty. Press 1 to remove your name from our list. Message. Every. Other. Day. for about six months now.

D is for dog's name: though not technically my dog, her name is Diamond. I like to call her Diva Dog.

E is for an essential item you use every day: How odd. There are many, seriously. How do you manage without soap AND water? Cheerios AND milk? socks AND shoes? Well, if I have to choose one....moisturizer to combaat ashy knees, elbows and more.

F is for favorite TV show: This is a toughie...mmmm..at the moment, I suppose would get the nod. I didn't like it when it started and for whatever reason was captured by it a couple of seasons ago. I've been watching the replays in syndication to fill in some gaps. I will eventually rent/watch all the seasons in succession. Probably.

G is for favorite game: Duck, Duck, Goose? Naaah, today it's a toss-up between Scrabble and Scattergories.

H is for your hometown: Da Bulls, Da Bears, Da Cubs......Chicago

I is for instruments played: recorder, piano (lessons) and finger cymbals. Finger cymbals rock!

J is for favorite juice: not big on juices but in the interest of full disclosure, drumroll please....V8 Spicy.

K is for what you'd like to kick: the 11:30 p.m. craving for chocolate chip cookies.

L is for the last restaurant you dined at: Demos' Yummy steak.

M is for favorite muppet: The Count.

N is for number of piercings: Two, each lobe.

O is for overnight hospital stays: Three. Tonsils & 2 birthing events.

P is for people you were with today: fellow commuters, bus operator(s) and co-workers.

Q is what you do in quiet times: Savor. Read. Write.

R is for regrets: I regret not picking up the plants & potting soil while I had access to a car.

S is for your status: Totally devoted to Neta.

T is for time you woke up: 4:14 a.m. Pete. The Cat. 4:14 AM. Pete! the Cat.

U is for what you consider unique: Ernestine, 59.

V is for favorite vegetable: Spinach.

W is for worst habit: falling asleep with the television on

X is for xrays you've had: knees & dental, a few times.

Y is for yummy food eaten today: Garlic Lime Chicken

Z is for zodiac sign: LEO. You have a great insight into major events going on right now, and a lot of people would love to know what you know! Sitting in the catbird's seat gives you a great feeling, and you are finally coming to a place where you can truly value your position in life. Resist the temptation to lord your power over other people who are at disadvantage -- you don't want to burn any bridges. Keep your cool and play this out more conservatively than you probably want to. Whatever.

Love of the Game

Chicago-land native Candace Parker rolled into town with the rest of the Sparks in tow to take on our Sky. The ladies played to a sell-out crowd (no, not me.) The Sky rallied from a 14-point deficit to tie the game at the end of regulation. The Sparks, minus C. Parker who had fouled out, won in OT 81-77.

Oh yes, I like the women. I love the women. However, I don’t have any co-workers who share a passion for the women’s game. The NBA follower co-worker smiles, nods and just pretends to understand. We do not discuss.

We don’t talk about how rookie Parker is leading the Sparks in scoring, rebounds and assists and is odds on favorite to score rookie of the year honors. We don’t talk about the other touted rookie, our very own Fowles, being out with a knee sprain suffered in the 3rd quarter of the battle with the Sparks. Or that Fowles ranks as her team’s third leading scorer but second in rebounds and first in blocked shots. Further, we don’t talk about how badly the 2007 champion Phoenix Mercury are struggling right now. How Cappie, Diana and Tangela have their work cut out for them but being up to the challenge.

We don’t talk about how with the addition of veterans Yolanda Griffith, Swin Cash and Sheryl Swoopes, the Seattle Storm are hoping for a return to the championship podium.

And of course we don’t talk about the Comets, Dream, Fever, Liberty, Lynx (who are hot right now, by the by), Monarchs, Mystics, Silver Stars, Shock or the Sun. And if we don’t talk about the WNBA, you know we aren’t talking about the NCAA women. Bring on the Madness!

Play on ladies. Seriously.

Not In the Game

Eventhough I've told him that I'm not a fan of the NBA anymore, a co-worker wants to know every morning following a play-off game if I saw the game. Every morning I tell him that I didn't. He proceeds to give me a run-down of the more scintillating moments. I listen to be polite. I even make a comment or two.

But I don't care. Really, I don't. Knowing who plays and who wins is simply an accident of memory. I check in with SportsCenter (for other sporting news), there are the crawlers along the top (or bottom) of the screen during my local newscast, I might catch a flash of conversation on the bus or train or glance at the sports section of some commuter's newspaper. The data enters and sometimes it clings whether I want it to or not.

The Finals start tomorrow. The Boston Celtics will battle the Los Angeles Lakers for the title in a best of 7 series. A decade (or more) ago I would have cared. Not now. Except if I did care I'd want Boston to beat the Lakers because "Doc" Rivers played HS & college ball in the area and I always liked his play and demeanor. Conversely, I really, really, seriously, really don't like Kobe. Seriously. One more look at his tongue (you ever notice how often he licks his lips when he talks?) and I'm going to hurl my salad. Seriously.

Play on but I don't care. Seriously.

Quirky

I was tagged (again) to do 10 (different number) things about me (meme). I’ve been thinking about this much and then again, not much at all and then much all over again. I’m hung up on the quirky. Quirky quirks me out perhaps. But, alas, quirky or not, here we go:

1. My first fried chicken dinner was a complete bust. The chicken was beautifully, golden brown outside and a bloody un-done mess inside. I was eleven, I think.

2. I redeemed myself eventually, but then, by that time I didn’t care about preparing food for anyone in my household.

3. Still, the skill came in handy during the rearing of my own children. They grew up eating a lot of fried chicken.

4. My mother had no active role in teaching me how to cook. Ergo, I learned most of what I know long after becoming an adult, a mother.

5. I do not like my water (drinking) or most any other beverage iced, usually. Chilled is ok, iced is generally too much. Waiters (more than waitresses, oddly) tend to question my –no ice- request.

6. A co-worker revealed to me today that he loves peach cobbler and loves to prepare it but can’t stand touching fresh peaches. The fuzz quirks him out. I, on the other hand, don’t care much for peach cobbler but I do adore fresh peaches. Canned peaches (his preference over even frozen peaches) quirk me out.

7. Generally, I don’t like sipping through straws. Obviously in some cases (milkshakes, smoothies) straws are a must, but otherwise, I do without.

8.I found out today that I like cranberries in tuna salad.

9. I don’t like green grapes, but I like all the others. I especially like the sweet grapes added to a buffalo chicken salad.

10.Buffalo chicken salad makes me think of Toot’s, which makes me think, Tennessee, which makes me think Neta, who makes me feel all quirky inside and out. Yum.

Finally

Gone. Rooting for Stephanie because of the Chi connect, but think Antonia is going to be victorious.

May 26, 2008

What do you say to the woman who gave birth, cuddled and diapered you?
Whose emotional ups and downs sometimes un-settled you?
Who fed, groomed and hollered at you at times?
Who put iodine on your scrapes, jackets on your back and second-hand KEDs on your feet?
Who made you eat lima beans (ugh) every once in a while and multiple moves in search of something, someplace just a little bit better?
Whose negativity sometimes confounded you?
Who offered slices of opportunity with a piano rental at 13?
Who has more questions than Trivial Pursuit?
Whose reprimands were rarely harsh and supplied paper for Art?
Who teased occasionally? And took a stab at understanding?
Whose volatile reactions made events even more?
Who provided the “What It Means To Be A Woman” pamphlet when that time arrived?
Whose Xs provided the beginning of you?
Whose years have stretched beyond her expectations?
Whose zigs and zags are now quite predictable?

What you say is happy 68th birthday. I wish for you peace of mind and body from this day forward.

A Lake Story

Chicago’s beaches are open today. It is all of 50 degrees, overcast and dreary, but if you are so inclined, you may flock to the beach today. I’ll pass thankyouverymuch. I don’t do beach even on the best of the best of beach weather days.

I do enjoy the lakefront though. I don’t spend nearly enough time walking/biking along the lakefront.

A favorite childhood memory involved the lakefront. My brothers and I often escaped to the downtown area, often separately, but sometimes together. We’d go to the movies and then just walk around, eventually making our way to the lakefront. When I got older, the lakefront was a favorite later night biking destination.

One of those together times I felt the need to dress up for some reason that escapes me now. I decide to raid mom’s closet for some chunky high heeled sandals. We were walking (me clomping) along the lakefront, pointing at and oohing and ahhing over the boats and buoys when all of a sudden, I listed to one side. One of the chunky heels had snapped, and bounced into the lake, bobbling along like those buoys we ahhhed over. Oh shit.

My older brother, true to his nature, plopped down on the ground and laughed his little ass off. My younger brother’s eyes stretched far and wide and before he could get the, “Mommy’s gonna kill you” out fully, I was down on my daisy covered (even back then mom persisted in floral prints) belly reaching for the heel.

Younger brother freaked. His anxiety over large bodies of water trumped mine by several aces. “STOP!!! BEFORE YOU FALL IN!!” he yelled. He grabbing at me, trying to pull me away. I clung to the edge, flat against the ground trying to explain that I couldn’t fall, off my belly, into the lake, (and *I* was taking no unnecessary chances—the heel certainly was within my reach-when if first fell, having gotten caught in something) but he would not be swayed. He was more and more insistent and since older brother was still laughing his little ass off, he was no help.

The heel bobbled out of my reach. Oh shit.

The train ride home was painfully long. Older brother teasing, younger brother clinging, relieved I hadn’t drowned, me scared shitless about what my mother would say, do. Half-way home, I decided I’d toss what was left of the chunky high-heeled sandals in the incinerator outside of our apartment door.

Mom wasn’t home when we steeped through the door so I didn’t have to explain why I was walking in the apartment barefooted. My brothers and I went on with the rest of the day as though nothing out of the ordinary occurred.

A couple of weeks later, mom was getting dressed to go out. She tore up her closet looking for her white, chunky high-heeled sandals. She cussed a storm, upset that she couldn’t find them. Neither brother said a word.

Of course, older brother lorded my secret over me. That is, until I caught him doing something *he* didn’t want told, which true to his nature wasn’t very long at all.

Have a happy, safe holiday weekend.