Did you find me yet?

The non-poet strikes again. Let's all be happy for today. Wait why won't this space properly??!! Argh

How can I miss you as I do? We've never even met. You're just a school-girl fantasy, A punk-electro rhapsody That grabbed my mind and ran with me Although we've never even met. And yet I miss you.

I've never watched the way you walk I wouldn't know your gait. You're just a sudden ping of joy, A message on a mobile toy, My fuzzy-headed thrasher boy Who's caught me in this net. And yet I miss you.

How can I wish you back with me? We've never shared a space. I want again to watch the moon, Again to hear the waves at noon And share a sweet, compelling tune If only fate will let. And yet I miss you.

To dream this way is foolishness I see the folly here You're just some pixels on my screen The lead in my false movie scene. I know good sense should intervene Before I just regret. And yet I miss you.

Life finds a way

The hall window outside my lab faces a parking deck. In an attempt to deter birds from flying in to the deck, they have placed some wire mesh and a couple fake owls above the exit from the roof level. 

I have been watching a large family of pigeons that has nested in the mesh, behind the owls. I have seen that you-tubers report mixed results using these owls as a pigeon deterrent. It's simply amusing to me that the pigeons here are nesting directly behind the owls. Maybe they are cocky Philly pigeons: "I ain't gonna let no owl stop me from using this prime real estate." Maybe they are smart - "We are less afraid of this immobile, plastic-smelling owl than of other pigeons and predators messing with our nest." But whatever their reasoning, they have probably picked a pretty good home, and they have clearly raised a successful clutch, despite attempts to reduce their number in the garage. I find this appealing... although I would not find this as appealing if, instead of pigeons across the alley, we were considering ants in my kitchen.

I remember from college, decades ago, a long evening chat session. One boy asked "Why don't we yet have an entirely safe, effective chemical birth-control? Is it just political?" To which, one girl answered "No, it's biological. Living organisms are are defined by their ability to reproduce; it's what we are primarily designed to do. It is difficult to override such a major body function." 

Or as Jurassic Park's Ian Malcolm says "Life finds a way."

 

Back again, so let's get cookin'

 So...uh...long time no see.

Ya know, every time I say that I'm back, I really hope it is true. It is unlikely that I will ever be as prolific here as I was back in those good/horrible old days, but I would like to publish again regularly. I am going back to school for a Masters in Biology, but really it's in order to transition from lab schlep to technical writer or something similar. So, if for no other reason, I should be looking for ways to exercise my general audience-writing muscles. 

I was sitting with some friends yesterday on shabbos. I mentioned that I had written about such-and-such here in this blog. "You wrote a blog? I would be interested to read it." "So would I!" "Yes, me too, I will have to look it up after shabbos." None of these were women I was particularly close with 10 years ago; some I have only met since then. The woman I met most recently is interested in several things that used to be a much bigger part of my life. She makes me excited about them again. 

Remember the old rhyme?:

"Make new friends, but keep the old;

  One is silver, and the other gold."

I get that the old friends are supposed to be more precious, and that is why they are "gold." But I was thinking of another way this could be understood: new friends are "silver" in the manner that silver is practically more useful, while gold's value is more ornamental. Silver plates a mirror, silver works as a conductor, silver has use is flatware and goblets, etc. New friends (or old friends we haven't seen in a long time) add new ideas, and bring out old and new from within us in a way that comfortable old friends may not. Or maybe not, I dunno, just an idea as I was driving around today.

I'd like to put something more substantial in here today. How about my attempt to change my cooking habits to save a little money: Like a lot of people, I built up a nice little sum the first months of Covid by buying almost nothing (well, after that first Passover, anyway) and cooking a great deal of our food from scratch. I always cooked most of our meals, but now I wasn't buying snacks or bread or nearly as much frozen veggie-meat substitute. But then again, I was home a couple days a week (I am considered an essential worker, so I was always going in at least a couple days), and I hadn't started my graduate work. Soon I was back to the lab everyday, and I was busier, and my normal cooking rhythms returned. This rhythm includes a lot of impulse buying. I usually enjoy grocery shopping when it's someplace fun, not just the supermarket. So when I'm in Trader Joe's, or a little market in Chinatown, or at a cute little specialty shop, I'm likely to buy something unusual or experimental. But if it is not a ready-to-eat item, it often sits in the cabinet. So every year when I pack up the kitchen contents for Pesach, I put away a bunch of these packaged good, usually grains or jarred and canned products. And then they never come out of the "Chometz closet", as the hall closet has come to be known. 

Well the younger boys are now just about out of the house. The youngest will be out of state next year. I'm cooking for just me, and I am more willing to experiment, so I have been taking those stored items out of the closet. Kasha, quinoa, polenta and garbanzo flower; coconut milk and tamarind paste; spice mixtures. Plus a bunch of stuff like corn flakes and mashed potato-mix and such I took from people who were giving away from their free boxes (ugh, there is a whole topic I could talk about). I'm trying to enjoy the challenge and satisfaction of using it up, and it works to some extent. Here's a quick tip: Trader Joe's Green Goddess seasoning mix is great for a quick way to liven up almost any grain. 

Okay, this is WAY boring, but I got it down, and I pressing PUBLISH. Hello to everyone new - go look at the old stuff, it's juicier than this post.

A zoom meeting, in verse

 

The newlyweds give me the best news a parent can receive

and I have nothing to respond.

I sit silent, deadpan, as her mother asks

“Do you know what that picture is?”

 

“Yes,” and I suppose I change to a pleased expression,

blurt out some benign comment.

The chatter through the computer speaker returns,

While the screen shifts from that iconic, indecipherable wedge of black and white.

 

I am not there.

I am watching from far, too far away,

Miles and years and lives away.

 

I suppose I could have reprised my expression of four months ago.

That day that I kept too busy to be so self-absorbed.

I sat with the girl who takes, and yet returns my son,

Greeting strangers and friends “what a blessing this is.”

 

In my tailored gown, black gloves and shaped eyebrows

I filled my head with vanity, better than envy.

Danced and clapped and enthused through my mask

for the lively couple, glorying in their evening, stark in their black and white.

 

The crooked, overwide, plastered-on smile,

appears once, and again, and once more in the wedding albums.

They are handed out now, mine still miles and hours away.

 

The uncles-to-be are proud and excited in their role.

Their family is growing,

Bringing more connections and tiny spirits to touch

soon: “Do you know whose little toe this is?”

 

How can one be so jealous of her child? I would do anything

for them, but still I want more, I want mine.

My closest friends whisper “Happy, happy, it should all be good!”

Because they don’t live in disappointments, in black and white.

Yummy is good, right?

 

Last night I got home from work followed by shopping and not finding what I wanted and in a bit of a funk, so I wanted to cook something a bit special, something fun.  In the refrigerator I had beautiful eggplants that I had bought just the day before. I sliced the eggplant, salted the eggplant, breaded the eggplant, fried the eggplant, packed away half in wax paper, and placed the other half in a baking pan with tomato sauce and cheese to bake.

Po came home after a very long day at school. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

“I just had a snack; there is eggplant in the oven for dinner.”

“Woah, thank you, looks great. What is this stuff in the bowl?”

“Oh, that’s leftover raw egg, to make the eggplant.”

“There’s egg in the eggplant??”

“To batter the slices.”

“You battered the slices??”

“… Are you just being comical? YES, I battered the slices, I fried the eggplant, I baked it with sauce and cheese and spices. That’s how you cook eggplant.”

“When I make eggplant, I just cut it, smear with pizza sauce and cheese, and bake…”

 

So he starts eating while I am occupied elsewhere. I came back to find a couple small slices left in the pan. They were yummy.

I told Po there is still more fried eggplant in the ‘fridge, if he wants to have some more.

When I clean up before bed, I see all the eggplant is gone except one small, lonely slice.

I think to myself, “What happened? I did nothing this evening except cook this eggplant, and it’s gone, I have nothing to show for it. What a waste!”

But as I thought about it this morning, that’s a foolish, misleading way to think about it. Maybe I wanted some leftovers, but the eggplant is gone because it was GOOD, Po enjoyed it, it was consumed. A true waste would be if it was bad, and no one wanted much, and it stayed in the refrigerator until it went moldy. Neither would it have been good to make huge quantities of this oily delicacy; it’s really much better in moderation – I would have been annoyed if Po and I had gluttonous amounts over several meals.

“You should be proud and pleased,” I thought. And for a few pleasant moments I was, as I had my toast and coffee for breakfast… but that is another story for another day.

Early Blooms

 This beautiful amaryllis blooms every year in front hallway at work. In most things aesthetic, I go for delicate and understated, but I just love big bold showy flowers. I love all those big bulb flowers: lilies, irises, hyacinth, gladiolas. And hedge roses, magnolias, hibiscus, anemones, poppies. Okay, I could go on and on. (Maybe I should go into botany so I can play with flowers all day. I have no idea what kind of research is done in botany.) I was recently helping design flower arrangements for a special event, and the woman of the day said she wanted bright, happy pastels. I thought about what flowers fit that description, and searched for "bouquet coral ranunculus chrysanthemum snapdragon." 

 So lovely...sigh. When I go to the produce market and pick out flowers, they rarely have such a wide selection, and I would have to get at least 10 different types to make anything so varied. But I can dream.

The only way I remember the name "amaryllis" is from the character of the Mayor's daughter in The Music Man. Also, the only way I remember lobelia is from Bilbo Baggins' cousin. 

That's a good car game - name all the flowers you can think of that are women's names. Or just name all the flowers you can think of.

Yeah, it's true, I like science.

 I'm taking 2 classes this semester: 

Pathological Aspects of Disease, a survey course of pathology.

Principles of Career Management - Diverse BioMedical Careers, in which the great majority of the students are trying to figure out what careers they want to pursue other than physician or laboratory investigator.

I was somewhat hesitant to take pathology - I really don't like disturbing, icky images. But I was very interested in learning the causes and manifestations of disease. So far all my courses have been mostly focused on microbiology, so I was interested to take a class that was focused on systemic clinical issues.

 Like almost everything else, classes this year have not been as fun or engaging as previously because it is all online. The Pathology class is at the worst end of the spectrum (for me, anyway) - pre-recorded lectures, several online "discussion questions" per module, and a very fluid assignment schedule, where everything just needs to be turned in before corresponding midterm or final exam.

As I was doing the self assessment exercises for the Career Development class, I began to question whether I had a serious desire to stay in the realm of biology at all. Classes were soooo boring. I have to really force myself to get through the lectures - shouldn't I find the subject more fulfilling to keep it as my CHOSEN career, not just the one I fell in to. Should I even continue pursuing degree in biomedical sciences? 

Then yesterday we finally had a live zoom meeting to review for exam. 2 straight hours of clinical vignettes. It was so much fun, I just loved it! It reminded me of a friend who describes several games as her favorites because they "tickle that certain entertainment part of my brain." I can't explain why, just really enjoy a true biology lesson. I left the class really excited to take the exam and continue with the course. Now I need to find a way to carry that excitement through another half semester of pre-recorded lectures. I did get a study partner, although she is not currently in the same class, but she said she would appreciate reviewing the subject and vocabulary. And I need to interact with the prof more often, even if it makes me look like a toady groveling for grades.

So now I have two subject that interest me: pathological aspects of disease AND psychology of live human interaction in engagement and learning. I'm sure there's a ton that has been written about the latter topic recently. Unfortunately, it will probably have to wait quite a while before I can get to it.

So much science, so little time...

Happy Funny Pretty Cake Post

I feel like the vibe here is too heavy, so before going on to Good Avice, Part II, let's take a break for some cake and comic relief.

My former neighbors, (still current great friends) were about to move to their new home, and were having a last hurrah in the old place for the husband's birthday. Over the years, he had asked me to make many cakes for his wife for her birthday or their anniversary. So finally the wife asks me to make a cake for HIM - I think she knows how much I generally don't like being asked, but I was THRILLED. "Could you do a T.I.M.E. Stories theme?" Can I do I time stories theme?!?!? Oh, I am a-plannin' the craziest, coolest, best cake ever, for my board game-playing, geeky, bestest dad, cartoon watching fabulous neighbor of mine. And with Moo, who has practically grown up in their house, we plan and design and print and bake, and show the birthday boy how much he means to us:

Yes, it's all cake (except for the deck of cards in the top right,

 candy tokens on the left)

Sample character card

Sample location card

...and so on. Good times.

Good Advice, Part I

Good Advice is just the same as bad advice so sings Allan Sherman

Okay, as you can tell from my last post, this has been a particularly bad time. I know everyone's first assumption would be that it is part of the global COVID despondency, but I would have to disagree, at least that is not the prevailing cause. It's more of the chronic abuse from the ex, coupled with the ugly political jungle, that is just blooming out of control in the current environment.

So while I was boiling over with disappointment and anger, I lashed out on FB. General post:"I hate you all."
When that got a bunch of stupid generic "Sorry you're hurting, what happened?" I couldn't see any reason to contain myself. "I don't want to hear your stupid comments. You could have helped at anytime, could have talked to ex and told him his behavior was unacceptable, But all you holier-than-thous hid behind your excuse of 'not my business', so too late, definitely not your business now."
And of course, I got more insulting, idiotic advice, "You may be depressed. It's no shame to get help. You should go find some help."
 Idiots. "Oh gee, you are so clever to have seen that. How could I have missed it all these decades?"
 Instead of subjecting you to a further sarcastic rant of my own, I'll link to a great article in McSweeney's by Jen Fremond.

A little while back, I was hosting a young woman who lives a few miles away, who wanted to stay in the community for shabbos. I don't know her story in detail, and it's not my place to tell it if I did. Enough to say she made some poor choices, and is now in a very difficult situaltion, trying to just keep her head above water, and stay sane and responsible though the next few years until she can hopefully try to improve her situation. She has made that maddening, tortuous trip though public and charity social services that seems to end so very often at "we are so sorry, but we can't really offer any help to you." We stayed up late on Friday night, as she told me about her latest attempts to get her certification in her career field, but between child care costs, tuition, and the buracracy of public assistance, she had to put it on hold indefinitely, with the risk that it will be take so long that she will be required to start again from the beginning. I just sat and listened. She clearly didn't want advice, even if I had any useful advice. She just wanted to be heard, and to find a little sympathy and compassion.
The next day, we went out for lunch at a mutual friend. another woman at the table is perpetually giving unhelpful advice. She is definitely a nice, well-meaning woman, so I know it's ugly of me to take such a nasty view, but anyway... For example, after my lab closed, and I was job-hunting, someone must have brought up the subject, Ms. Advice goes on for several minutes, "you know there are a lot of Universities in the city, have you looked for jobs there? They probably have some information on their computer sites, maybe you could try that? Also, I think there are some pharmaceutical companies around, have you thought of looking into that? Have you applied for unemployment benefits? You may be eligible..." It was so horrible having to nod and smile, "oh, yes, good idea, maybe I'll look into that." When you are in a difficult situation, and someone asks you "Have you had the sense to try the obvious yet?" it is beyond hair-pulling frustrating - even if the interrogator has no idea how inane the question.
So I know what is about to start, when I hear the worthless suggestions start hurling toward my houseguest: "Have you tried going to city social services for help with childcare? I'm sure the Jewish agencies must have educational programs available..." And then someone else at the table starts to chime in, and I just have to step in and stop this right there! "Those may be useful suggestions, but Houseguest is more knowledgeable about all the available programs and all the requirement than any of us, since she actually lives in her life and has been wading through all these programs for months." And Ms. Advice and the others looked unpleasantly rebuked, but apologized, and move away from the topic. And my houseguest was obviously relieved. And I was proud to be so bitchy.

I still haven't gotten to my main point here - that story above was just supposed to be an intro to the actual topic. I've gone on too long already, so let me post this before I lose my steam as I have for the past couple years, and I'll leave with
...TO BE CONTINUED

There was a time, long ago, when I believed things could be better. Then there was a while when, although I knew I would never be happy, at least things could become satisfactorily "good", so as to make life worth living.
So what happens next, when the past is only painful, but the future can't offer anything better?
Those people who would call themselves my friends would say this is just depression talking. Anyone who really knows me would say this is reality, and I need to adjust myself to reality. I didn't want to hear that message 26 years ago, but I have lost the war, and still I can't take that message today.
I'm tired of trying to fight up hill, to get above the rock-slide. I just want to give in, but do the best I can for others while I am here, because that is what makes me "pleased". I will never have enough money to rise above poor. I will never have courage or cleverness or strength to go to a higher level of status or employment. Maybe at least I can be helpful and virtuous in my own eyes.

Nah.
Maybe I can at least put myself in harms way so as to finish quickly.

Pokemon cake

Just some other stuff I have done with my days recently:

Pokemon birthday cake for Moo. I made the cake, he made the creatures (out of marzipan and a few Wilton edible pearls):

Job Search Ambivalence

I'm not sure exactly how much I'm comfortable posting, since I don't know if I am still have unwanted followers... but anyway:

I'm looking for new employment. I have actually been out of the lab for a year and half now, did I mention? Tried insurance agent at the considerable prompting of the agency owner: I liked servicing clients, and educating them on insurance minutia, but was awful at the sales part. I knew I would be, but it was good to shed some bit of those social anxieties. Then I went back to looking in science, got a great contract position for 3 months with a major Pharma company, loved everything about it except that it was such a terribly long commute, so I didn't even look to continue there. And now I am sitting at home, on LinkedIn again.

Ms. Useful had a great word of advice for me, when I told her about my moderate pace at sending out the resume s: "This is not the time for a marathon, when you get a job is the marathon - this is the time for a sprint!"

I took her advice to heart for a couple weeks, spent any hours almost every day applying for jobs. But the fervor is dying out again. And the void is not filling with anything good.

Well, I did make a few positive thing occur. I called the principal of the local day school, with whom I have developed a good relationship. "I desperately need some structure to my day, and you can always use some volunteered hands. Put me where you think I would be helpful." I now have a regular gig several days per week as teacher's aide for the 1st grade (along with other occasional jobs). I can't believe how much I love it! Especially since I never thought of myself as a teacher. But 1st grade is so wonderful, the kids all still want to learn, and it is so easy to see the difference one can make with an individual child. A friend just suggested that I offer my services to a yeshiva that is trying to start up in town, to shape the science program. (I have been pretty vocal in my opinion that the yeshiva's own advertising seems to set the bar distressingly low for the secular studies.) But I told my friend that I worry that I don't have the qualifications for that role - she responded that I'm better qualified for it then no-one, and I might as well take this time to try to shape the secular program for the better. ??? I need to jump on this before I shy out.

This was written the day after the election...


Don't Mourn, Fight Back  - Mother Jones
Today I freakin' flipped out at one of the men I see as having used me and silenced me these past several years. I must say that, as he was the one to initiate the conversation, he was not argumentative, and withstood my criticisms quite stoically,  and seemed genuinely to take the situation seriously, if not my insistence that his previous dismissals were a major driver of the whole sickening situation.
I'm been under one narcissistic, sociopathic power-mad man's thumb for to long (and dammit, one day is too long), while all stood by and watched. I cannot and will not let it happen again without comment.
Going to the post office today for my passport application, but also need to find out how I can become move politically involved locally and be part of the change. I was silent this whole election season, didn't try to educate, didn't challenge false claims, didn't try to engage my friends. Mea culpa. Not again.

This is still my beautiful blog

short hair

Hey, let's just pretend there hasn't been an extended gap since my last post.

I recently cut my hair very short - short for me anyway. The ponytail are now little one inch things, and sometimes now, I just put on the wig grip, and don't even bother with ponytails. Freeing!

Really, right now I desperately want to sleep, and desperately need to study. Yesterday, my world felt upside down, never to settle back to reality. "How did my life come to this?" I asked Little Miss Inside. To which we both replied "This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful wife."

And on that confusing note, I will say good-night, please indulge me because I have missed you, and I will hopefully come back tomorrow with something more coherent, but please, with effort, something as meaningful.

How are you?

I was at a dinner at the shul the other night. I happened to be more inside the kitchen than the dining hall that night, which I think probably put me in a better mood, but not very sociable. So at the end of the evening I finally make some small talk.
"How are you, S.P.?" asks a woman with whom I'm friendly, but not particularly close.
"Thank G-d, I'm okay. How are you?"
"Wonderful!" she said enthusiastically, and I couldn't help but be happy for her.
"Wow, that 's great to see you so cheerful. Something special going on?"
"No, not particularly, but isn't it nice to make someone excited? That is why I am trying to always answer exuberantly."

Now I am usually not one to preach putting a smile one your face to make yourself happy: the "fake it 'til you make it" school of thought.  But as I have said before, I'm usually a smiley person, and I think it is a good quality.  So when I am in a good mood, I had been trying to be as enthusiastic as my friend above.

And I have been in a good mood, which is amazing considering the stressful time this is, choosing a school for my son next year.  I believe I am really coming to accept that the wasband cannot hurt me.  Well, of course he can; maybe more just internalizing that I can go day to day without worrying how he will hurt me. Maybe that sounds extremely weak advancement, but in fact it is a fantastic improvement. And I am concurrently, although slowly slowly, accepting that I can really depend on Heaven to watch over me. Everything looks a little brighter today.  I didn't even hate my job so much, it seemed somewhat hopeful. 

And look at this beautiful thank you gift:

I had been helping a young women with a project for her graduate studies. Her whole family is so good to me, I was thrilled to help. She wrote the most "Whoohoo!" thank you card, I again could not help but be happy for her.  I look at the flowers, and I am happy all over. And as an extra bonus, it helps keep me motivated to keep the apartment a little tidier, so I can enjoy the flowers in peace of mind. Not everyone likes the smell of lilies, but I do - I love everything about lilies.

Yay, happy.

Irony Abounds

I wrote my son last night that I need to dedicate an evening or two per week to no tv or computer solitaire.  Went home to make dinner, bottle of milk fell out of the freezer onto my toe.  Spent the night in bed just reading... and icing the toe with the jug of milk.

When She's Out of Bagels...

First of all, the bar mitzvah was lovely.  I cannot give enough thanks to Heaven, and to all my friends who came out to help, and to all the guests who came from far and near to celebrate with my son.  I need to think over more of my thoughts about this new young man before I say anymore about him and his big day.

SOOO, let's focus on the totally superfluous:  I broke out those rusty decorating skills to make a couple cakes.  I have to explain that these cakes were made in the shul kitchen, on their limited equiptment, plus the few pieces, such as frosting tips and spatula, I bought new to use once. (Funny tangent: while I was cooking, the Rebbetzin showed me that they had kept the frosting tips, connectors and gel colorings from my older son's bar mitzvah 6 years ago.  Bleah, didn't use those... but I didn't dump them either. ???)  This was a joint kiddush with another family holding their son's ufruf (pre-wedding celebration), and we catered ourselves, plus they were hosting meals in the shul... it was a very busy, packed tiny shul kitchen.  The cakes were the last things I made before shabbos, and I was under terrible pressure to finish them as quickly as possible, so the designs have nothing to do with what I had planned, and everything to do with what I could accomplish fast, and on the fly.

Sorry, Blogspot won't let me edit.

I am not thrilled, but apparently thaey looked really nice and impressive in reality.  So nice that I got a couple requests to make cakes for coming affairs.  Now I remember why I got out of the cake business:

"Hello Sweet Perfusion, I am hosting sheva brachos (a wedding week meal/ party), and I really wanted to get a pretty cake, but Mrs Her-Family-Owns-the-Local-Bakery is going to be out of town.  Then I saw your cakes and remembered 'S.W. makes fancy cakes.' Would you be able to make a cake to feed 70?"

"Well, I have to tell you that my fees are high.  A cake like at the bar mitzvah would be $$$."

"Oh really?... Mrs. HFOtLB doesn't charge so much."

yes, I know, and neither does the supermarket. Mrs. HFOtLB has a bakery behind her with all the supplies, ovens, pans, etc. all ready. but I don't say this.

"Well, it does take me about 7 hours to make one of those cakes, so that is what I have to charge."

"Oh... well..."

"I guess I could make just a sheet-cake, and decorate it fancy, for $$."

"Okay, that sounds alright, let's do that."

And I am left feeling cheated, and unhappy about the work I will be doing for well below minimum wage.  No, I'm not unhappy, and I look at it as chesed, and a chance to show-off a bit.  But I do feel a bit used.

It reminds me of the joke:

Mrs. Goldfarb walks into Abram's Bakery.
"How much for a dozen bagels?" asks Mrs. Golfarb.
"$3.95," answers the baker.
"So much?  At Bloom's Bakery they are only $2.95 for a dozen."
"So, why don't you go buy from Bloom's?"
"He's out of bagels."
"So, when I am out of bagels, they are also $2.95."

Googling "sympathy losere images" responds with a few great images.

I wish I had the kind of personality where I didn't internalize everything.  It bothers me when total strangers are upset with me, so when someone consistently and deeply hates me, I can't let it just roll over me.  I know, I know, I should just feel mildly sorry for him, confident in the assurance that living well is the best revenge: except for monetarily (and possibly career-wise) I am clearly ahead...

[Wow, everything takes on a different flavor now that I know he is trolling this.  Hey you, loser. F-off. You are not wanted here, and you are hurting yourself and the children as much as you are hurting me.]

Anyway, i should be getting groceries, and instead I lost about 3 hours just feeling scared and sorry for myself.

I was sitting with the boys last night, before they got to sleep, just talking about whatever.  Moo has taken to calling these our "whine sessions", where they can just complain about whatever is bothering them that day, although truthfully, there is not too much whining. So I'm just relaxing, yawning, thiking about how much I have left to do before I go to sleep. And I mean to let out a lazy "I'm so tired", and instead it comes out "I'm so scared."  Dang! Did I really say that?! Damage control!!

Too much stress personally and universally, and I'm scared.  Maybe I shouldn't be, I know.  But, I'll tell you for sure, I avoid classes about "Betachon (the trusting side of faith) means never having to say 'I'm scared'".  For me, right now, that would be like saying "Anything is possible, so lift that car off the ground."

I have books for Po waiting at the library.  Between cycles at the laundromat, I went at 11:57 - I read the sign that the library doesn't open until 1:00.  So I did other stuff for the boys, was insulted by the wasband, who tried to humiliate me.  In the end he definitely comes off looking like a total jerk to more people than he anticipated,

[Hey you, I said go F-off, I'm not writing for your sake]

and yet, I go home and sulk and eat for three hours, go back to laundromat, then library at 4:12 - library closed at 4:00.  DAMNIT!!!!Damnit, I can't take it, damnit........and I just cried.  Then went back to the laundromat, then here to work (also for the second time today), to set up something that had to be done this evening to prepare for tomorrow.  And I so hate my job anyway. Hfff.

And I just want someone to bitch to, but all my friends are being so good to me and already doing so much for the barmitzvah, and I really don't want to go to the well again. But maybe I will anyway.
 

Freakiest Baby Item in a While

Oh my gosh! I passed the box for this monstrosity out on the curb for garbage collection.  A child is supposed to sit on this "chair" with a gaping hole and ARMS TO GRAB HER, then do her business in it to HEAR IT TALK TO HER TO CONGRATULATE HER afterwards!?!?!?!?
And we wonder why kids are so messed up...

(Yeah, I do have more relevant stuff to write, but I'm holding my tongue for now.  Let the troll sit tight.)

Guess Who's Reading

Back in the ancient days, when Zenith computer monitors displayed little more than orange type on a black screen, and email was a new toy mainly confined to academia, my programming professor, recently transferred from the abandoned “communications” department, warned all us young’uns to be careful not to send out emails in the heat of the moment.  Emails are written in private, allowing one to escalate an entire rant to unfortunate heights without the stabilizing factor of the recipient present, or at least listening in real time by telephone.  Emails do not allow for the nuances of timber, pitch, facial expression, etc.  Emails are there for the recipient to save and use, every word captured exactly. And, unlike snail mail, emails are so darn easy to send immediately, without the need to stuff into an envelope, address, stamp, and walk down to the corner mailbox, affording less time to awaken your better judgment to just rip the silly thing to pieces.

Luckily for me, although not to my credit, I am so in love with the flow of my own words in print, that I will often re-read my email letters many times to perfect before I hit that Send button. (This is yet another example of a commonality between myself and the Wasband that one might point to as a reason why we belong together…what can I answer?...)  So I felt relatively safe that my computer-disseminated thoughts were not coming back to bite me.

Yet, someone has been trolling this blog, probably as well as my FaceBook comments. Now I know I had said previously that, as this is a public site where I ENCOURAGE strangers to read my essays, it doesn’t make sense to accuse a reader of “trolling”.  I guess I didn’t consider the possibility that someone would attempt to use what I had written here against me in court.  Whoops! Silly me.

So let me share some of the things I learned today:

·         You really never know who is reading.

·         You really never know to what unimaginable levels some people may be driven by anger.

·         You will have a hard time using a post from a semi-anonymous, hobby-type blog as admissible evidence in an American court of law.

·         Should you attempt to enter into a protracted legal battle, it is wise to find counsel who is able to convince you when your case is frivolous. 

I might have thought one would not need to be even an ex-lawyer, to understand those last two points. Again, silly me.  

For all the rest of you followers, perhaps I should be clear: You should not take anything written here as unaltered truth.  Although all these blog posts start in my head, triggered to some extent by occurrences in my life, I let them flow into an artistically judged essay.  This is a semi-anonymous, hobby-type, clearly-public forum = I can write whatever the hell I want, and who is to say what is fact or fantasy.  Unless you are Ms. Useful or Little Miss Inside, if they even exist, or a select handful of other people who actually know me enough to reasonably see these essays for what they are, it is absurd to assume you have any idea what is true, what is a metaphoric stroll or dizzying hyperbole, and what is pure fairy tale. 

But really it’s all completely true, except for the stuff that isn’t, that is anyway, even though it isn’t…

Okay?  Anyway, hi there troll!!! It’s so satisfying to know you are took the time to read me.  And although no one else would understand your humor, The Flopster Society had me rolling with laughter.