Test Transmission

Found this DRAFT post from Jul 5, 2015 (yes really) which seems handy to use as a test message to check if my auto-email delivery feature still works (you know who you are). If you receive it, please reply to my gmail account. For all I know, I don't even have your correct e-mail addresses any longer!

Real life is currently like a freakish trip to Man In The High Castle territory, so let us move onto a more cheerful topic. Namely, Amelia! (BTW, that previous link to a UK newspaper's Dec. 16, 2016 article has spoilers for S2).

Amelia is a fluffy, affectionate, "medium-haired" cat, (now) approximately 4-1/2 years old, according to Animal Care Centers of NYC (rebranded from Animal Care & Control of NYC, i.e., the pound). She was surrendered by her former family when they moved to a no-pets building (those a**hats), along with her non-littermate sister Temperance. (Temperance was put to sleep the day after I adopted Amelia, unfortunately.) Now that we have moved back home from Mom's apartment (CeCeCat's home territory) both girls are getting along well, to my VAST relief.

Here are photos taken of Miss Fluffykins (a\k\a Fuzzy Mittens) in my home, shortly after her adoption on June 20, 2015.

And yes, at some point, we'll have a post devoted to CeCe's life history, all 2-1/2 years of it, including how she got her name.

Love & purrs, 

your local crazy cat lady

Resolutions, Resurrection & Recap

Yes, it is I, Sesame Squirrel and I am still alive, after a blogging hiatus of over a year. And it's been an eventful year.  So I'm tired (pretty much all the time) and going to cheat by using my holiday newsletter as my first post, but since one of my goals is to write more this year -- and not just in 140 character bursts -- I figured a start is better than waiting.  

So here goes, and sorry for the redux for those of you who've read my babblings already. I've added some more details though, since it doesn't have to fit on one side of a sheet of paper.

Recap

(because I think in bullet points)

• Jan - Life was good, and I went to Boston (Hi, Tam!) but I had ennui. Silly squirrel.
• Feb - Lifelong non-smoker Mom was admitted to Roosevelt Hospital & diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer: both lungs and part of her ribs ( Stage IV NSCLC )
• Mar - My cat Emily and I moved in with Mom full-time. Luckily, I already work from home 4 days/week, so I simply migrate my laptop back to the same desk I had when I was 10 years old.  Emmy becomes Squirrelmom's gateway cat.  Her serene nature -- and fondness for quality lap time -- endeared her to my formerly pet-free mother.
• Apr - Mom has an MRI which mercifully shows that the cancer has NOT metastastisized to her brain. HALLELUJAH!  Postpone long-planned trip to Holland to visit friend (Hi, Collinda!). Mom’s oncologist adjusts dosage of her chemo pill downward, reducing some side nasty effects. HALLELUJAH! However, the painkillers, chemo, and her general age [did I mention she's very hard of hearing?] make for total forgetfulness.  On the bright side, Squirrelmom has basically morphed into a very sweet (but alas, stubborn) 84 year old toddler. HALLELUJAH!  
• May - blur - monthly visit with Mom's onco - tired
• Jun - blur - monthly visit with Mom's onco - more tired
• July - blur - monthly visit with Mom's onco - even more tired; officially promoted for the first time at work, after 10 years there (yes, TEN years!)
• Aug - Emily diagnosed with lymphoma in her skull. We now each have our own oncologist: Mom, Emmy, and moi. BOO! HISS! 
• Sep - I reach critical mass (i.e., melt down); Sis kidnaps Mom for a few days while I say goodbye to Emily before she is put to sleep on Sept. 5^th. Sis re-kidnaps Mom for 2 weeks when I go on business trip to DC (Hi, Amy! Hi, Lori & Tom!) starting Sept. 27^th and then my trip to NL.
  
• Oct - Finally on delayed trip to Dutch countryside (Hi again, Collinda!) for a much needed weeklong rest cure. Amuse friends by endless city girl glee over cows, sheep, and horses scattered everywhere we drive. Be awed by the marzipan-squirrel, hazelnut mousse, caramel, and yellow cake Collinda and her sister make to welcome me to their beautiful homeland. Eat stroopwafels. Bring home CeCe the wonder kitten*, who was abandoned at eye-vet friends’ office. (Hi, Jane & Jim!) We estimate she is about 2 months old.
• Nov - Go on a long weekend to the CrimeBake (Hi Barbara!) crime fiction conference to see pals (Hi Craig & Judy!) Mom’s oncologist finally takes her off Percocet after 9 months (!!!) and she is So. Much. More. Lucid. BOY HOWDY! Get into a routine where I come home (to my own apt.) overnight on Saturday for mail, sleep, FreshDirect deliveries (that I take to Mom), and metaphorical Calgon time. Sis kidnaps Mom for almost a week at Thanksgiving. HALLELUJAH!  So. Tired.
• Dec - Meet with Sloan-Kettering docs to discuss my treatment options for years 6-10 post-breast cancer. Yup, more drugs & (laparoscopic) surgery lie in my future. Specifically, I'll be having an oophorectomy on Valentine's Day (oh the irony).

Things I Learned Last Year

(usually from Mom or one of my cats)

• Sleep when you can - Emily had the right idea.(Hi again, Craig and Judy!) If you had told me a year ago I’d be getting up before 6am and passing out by 9pm, I’d’ve told you to stop smoking crack, but an ailing parent and hyperactive kitten make for a whole new schedule. Now I know why parents of young children laugh when you ask what they've read lately. Heck, I don't even watch much TV anymore. Yes! ME!
• Prioritize - If it hasn’t fallen in the litter box, or there’s no sound of shattering glass, it can wait till morning. Corollary: can it wait till next Sat/forever?
• Everyone’s happier when they have a purpose - Well, at least in our family: I take care of Mom, and lose my asinine midlife crisis whininess. Mom checks on CeCe and starts talking about the future again (*see why I call her The Wonder Kitten?) Bonus: Mom has legit JOB now: play with CeCe so I can work and stay employed!
• Having an elderly parent who’s hard of hearing is not ALL bad - I don’t have to worry about waking up Mom with my endless shrieks while CeCe uses me as a human trampoline, while she learns to coordinate her ever growing limbs. (Also, Mom is smart: she has pretty much figured out what the English word “OW!” means, and nowadays, she has grown so blase about my sporadic yelps during the daytime that she merely asks,"Cat again?")
• Samsonite, taxis, Bactine and Neosporin are your friends - Plus, I am allergic to Johnson and Johnson brand band-aids!

When it rains...

So have I mentioned that I have cashed in vast amounts of frequent flyer miles to travel business class to Hong Kong and Shanghai for a two week vacation?

Well, the time IS now getting closer (12 days!) and I'm simultaneously excited and pulling out my hair, since I'm also in the middle of refinancing my mortgage (AGH!) and that entails a visit from the appraiser (Tues AM, so I'm frantically cleaning out my apt this weekend: the word TERROR does spring to mind) as well as the financial ravaging involved with all of the closing costs, etc. Ugh.

Also, I have done exactly ZERO about arranging my trips around within China, such as to Guilin and Ningbo, but I'm hoping to either sort of wing it, since there are so many airlines within China, or else to just explore HK and Shanghai at my own pace.

The latter option is definitely appealing too, since I like to just wander around back streets and poke around museums and things, taking photos of odd signage which amuses me :) Plus, this year has been so stressful so far that I'm leaning towards the more mellow option, instead of "if it's Tuesday, this must be Guilin..." And of course, I want to meet up with all of my friends without having to rush around like a maniac.

I mean, the whole point of a vacation is TO RELAX, correct? And booking myself up for my personal edition of THE AMAZING RACE just does not sound very relaxing. (But Guilin is supposed to be just gorgeous...) And to that point, I have cut out Japan from the itinerary, since that would NOT be relaxing, what with my health scare this spring.

And the food porn is courtesy of Mom, who made this late last month for Dad for a belated Tomb-Sweeping Day observance.

Numb3rs

So yes, I've been gone for a loooong time from here. It's been a busy month. Or 5-6 weeks. Taxes. Another reorg at work. (And no, I don't know how many that makes over the past few years.) Got my health tests back from MSKCC after a scare about a possible lump in my OTHER boob (yeah, those were the most miserable 2-3 weeks in recent memory until after the all-clear, and left me noticeably foul-tempered at work).


But now, I'm generally more cheerful. I'm still employed (with fabbo health insurance) and have gotten better at not letting the inanity / insanity at the office get to me. Try (usually successfully) to visit my mom every Monday so we watch DANCING WITH THE STARS together (heh). My family is healthy and doing well. I can even finally see the floor in my bedroom again. Hanging out with my real-life friends here locally is also part of my routine.


And as those stats in the photo up above show, I have been writing up a storm (hence, kinda quiet here) and making writing friends, as well as general goofing-off friends via Twitter and Tumblr. (Warning: that link to my Tumblr account may be full of amusement, especially if you know the way my mind works, but don't read the stories unless you want your eyelids seared with smut. Just sayin' ;-p)


In addition to all of that, I have started noticing the opposite sex again (translation: severely crushing on a writer, as my 100th Tumblr post shows) so I say it's time to start dating again! Will take a deep breath and call IT'S JUST LUNCH to see how much they cost. My wall unit savings account can be redirected to the "get me to relearn how to socialize" fund instead. Since my Pearl of Wisdom wisely pointed out that my last two relationships left a few things to be desired (not going to get into the details of our problems here, I can can definitely recognize the things she mentioned) so it's not surprising that I'm ambivalent about the idea of EVER marrying. Heck, just getting back into the swing of things will be a novelty for me. It's been almost exactly one year since I broke up with The Engineer, so yeah, it's time.


And one that note, I am going to immerse myself in my new Adele: 21 CD which is FANTASTIC. That woman has chops! And since I never watch the Grammys, I didn't know she'd won any. Instead, I was introduced to her vocal prowess in my across the hall neighbor's living room, via his blow-black-your-hair home theater system. I am in aural adoration mode (with Adele -- my 20 year old TV shows I'm not that bothered about home theater stuff).

Warm and fuzzy

It's been an unusually harsh winter this year (in fact, we're due for another several inches of snow tomorrow night) so I've really been bonding with my Green Monstah and my new black marshmallow (which is the knee length version of this parka). Ironically, of course, I get killer hot flashes every night while I sleep (and on especially lucky days, during the mornings and afternoons as well), but hey, what can ya do? At least I'm still around to have them!

This frosty weather has been highly conducive to thoughts of Kittichai's Thai hot pot for my annual birthday dinner (no German food this year -- SHOCKING, I know) where endless plates of shrimp, (sushi grade) salmon, squid, mussels, beef, pork, and veggies arrive at your table, to be dipped into deliciously seasoned broth. Some of you may remember we attacked, er, enjoyed this repast in October, and evidently we rhapsodized over it so much that other folks were keen to join in this time. Heh.

Nothing else much is going on here (ah, the midwinter doldrums) except that I appear to have gained a grand total of 10-14 lbs over the winter (whoops), cleaned my place a little bit, since a friend's daughter stayed over here for the weekend (hi Pirate!) so there are actual patches of floor visible, and tonight, I tackled some emergency laundry (socks anyone?)

Am still deep in celebrity crush mode, so I ordered a boxed DVD set of Criminal Minds, seasons 1-5, on eBay as the syndicated versions on TV get chopped to bits to make room for extra commercials. Sigh. And although my fondness for cop/FBI shows has consistently manifested itself since grad school (hello? X-Files anyone?) the only problem is that some of the characters irritate the crap out of me (is it so wrong of me to feel gleeful when she got shot?)

So next week, I am taking off from work (9 office-free days for the price of 4 vacation days = a BARGAIN!) when I will have many many things to do (financial, domestic, correspondence & packages -- I owe you a great big old thank you, LQ!) and hopefully I can do them all to the accompaniment of a Thomas Gibson soundtrack in the background. *swoon* Heheheh. Yeah, I'm sick, but y'all knew that, right?

The Green Monster

No, that's not jealousy -- that's my beloved giant sage green couch, which seems to have a black hole secretly embedded in its cushions: once I sit / sprawl / lounge in it, that's it for the afternoon / day / evening. I'm not going anywhere or doing anything after that.

So today I pre-emptively did some tidying up BEFORE getting sucked into the green monster's gravity well. So although there are still mounds of Stuff piled hither and yon, one can actually see a reasonable amount of floor space in the living area. Shocking. (Remember: baby steps, a/k/a, the journey of a thousand garbage bags begins with a single pile of trash....)

Another sign that I am feeling somewhat better these days is that I actually have a celebrity crush. (I've noticed that I tend to have severe celebrity crushes mostly when I am not in a relationship, but for the last few months, I didn't even care about age-appropriate yummy looking actors.) Currently, it's Thomas Gibson from Criminal Minds.

He kind of reminds me of my ex-ex-bf, The Consultant, but only in that general police description kind of way: black hair, fair skin, preppy-looking, soft-spoken, and oh yeah, HOT. (Well, to me anyway -- such is personal taste, but at least I'm consistent.)

Okay, on to less dorky subjects, such as my round of vicarious travels via mystery novels on my Kobo e-reader:

• Broken English - Amish mystery set in Ohio; 2nd in the series
• Girl Who Played With Fire - book 2 of the Stieg Larsson series, set in Sweden (Noomi Rapace, the actress in the Swedish film adaptation, is excellent, by the way; she's also exactly 12 years younger than me* -- yikes! feeling old...)
• Man From Beijing - also set in Sweden (mostly) but eh, won't be reading more of his novels
• Hangman - a Faye Kellerman novel, the 21st in the Rina Lazarus/Peter Decker series, set in the Orthodox Jewish community in Los Angeles
• Storm Prey - the 20th John Sandford book in the Prey series; set in Minnesota during the winter (brrr... very appropriate)
• Am now in the middle of The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest - book 3 of the Stieg Larsson Millennium Trilogy

* Speaking of birthdays, that is indeed my birthday cake above, made by my sister, and decorated jointly by her (the chocolate shavings) and both of my grandnephews (the M&Ms), and demolished by the family at her house on the day itself. Babies galore this holiday season, with visits to 9 younger relatives ranging in age from 7 years to 7 weeks. Wheeee!

Still Alive

Okay, so yeah, I've just been in a big ol' funk lately, as evidenced by my disappearance for over a month from here, and eating my way up the scale by several pounds. (I've also taken a hiatus from WW, since it's not about "how do I stay within my points budget?" but rather "need to straighten out my head first"!)

Slept for about 16 hours the other day, and have taken to napping on Sundays before bracing myself to watch the Giants after halftime (and yesterday's loss to the Eagles was truly appalling: giving up 28 points in less than 8 minutes during the 4th quarter! WTF?!)

But thanks to a relaxing dinner and long talk with my friend A who reminded me that I am not my job, and comfortable evenings with my knitting buddies, and time with a remarkably mellow Mom (!!!), I'm gradually regaining my equilibrium. (My home still almost looks like an audition set for HOARDERS, but I am slowly throwing out bits of crap. Note the key word "bits" and not, say, dumpster-loads.)

But really, that sensible comment from A (which I should perhaps tape to my bathroom mirror as a useful reminder) was tremendously helpful. Perhaps I was just ready.

And then I found out that one of my friends just buried his mom today. She had been suffering from stage 4 pancreatic cancer so it was not unexpected but still...

(As an aside, this just reinforces my determination to continue waging war on How Too Spoil Mom -- buy her stuff like a new winter coat, she tries them on, spends a long time considering the pros and cons [now I know where I get my indecisiveness from], then tells me to return it the next day -- lather, rinse, repeat. Eventually I'll find something that she really likes.)

So yeah, there's a light at the end of this particular tunnel, and it's not an oncoming train.

Oh, and the ceramic octopus shown above (which I think is FABULOUS and fabulously fascinating) was made my my friend Diana at the pottery studio. Sooooo lifelike, doncha think?

Back home

Chez Squirrel may be messy (ummm... why do various friends keep asking if I'm going to guest star on an episode of Hoarders?) and lack any discernible / unified design aesthetic (staying in my friend Curt's truly fabulous loft in San Francisco has made me acutely aware of this -- one of his patio plants was so visually pleasing that I'm using it as my new cellphone wallpaper) but damn it is good to be home.

Cluttered and unchic though it is (one day, the cluttered part will be more under control -- I swear! really!) I love my home because -- if you'll excuse the somewhat circular logic -- it's mine (well, excluding the large chunk owned by the mortgage company). I mean, I also love all of the friends I visited in SF, whom I've known for 15 - 25 years each (holy... !!! when our young waiter heard that Curt and I had known each other for 25 years, he was flummoxed... probably because that's most of his lifespan!) but as I get older, no matter how much I enjoy zooming around to other parts of the world, I'm always happy to come home to my little lair.

This is especially true when United helpfully delays my flight home from SF for 2 hours, so my original arrival time of 12:45 AM became 2:45 AM Friday morning. Simply delightful. (On the bright side, the Orbitz cellphone alert really did work and notified me of that fun fact before I left for SFO.) So by the time I got home from JFK, it was 3:30 AM, making me grateful that I'd taken today off as a vacation day as well, since somehow the sleep you get from 4 - 11 AM is never as restful or restorative as the sleep you get from 12 - 7 AM.

Oh by the way, I made another pleasant discovery in the middle of the night at JFK: there is a taxi dispatcher on patrol 24/7 so he called up a fleet of cabs from the parking lot when a flock of bleary-eyed travelers trundled out to the taxi stand at three in the morning.

Since I am a firm believer in packing light (and I despise paying checked luggage fees) I walked briskly off the plane with my carry-on bag and was 4th in line for taxis. Yes, this was indeed all I packed for 7 days/6 nights in SF, with a pit stop on the way out to CA to quickly change in the ladies room from work attire to lounging-on-the-plane-for-6-hours attire.

Today (Friday) was an entirely unproductive day, where I did not step foot outside my door except to go downstairs, retrieve a week's worth of mail, and get waylaid by a highly talkative neighbor.

Eventually I escaped and hid at home again, watching my TiVo'd backlog of Hawaii 5-0 which I found to be disappointing. (By the way, this supersnarky recap of the pilot episode is howlingly funny, more entertaining than the actual show, and would do TWOP proud.) There are some intriguing hints of reverse discrimination (Hawaiians/Samoans vs. haoles) and occasionally Boomer/Kona does show up, but on the whole, eh. In short, I sense a slot opening up on my TiVo Season Pass Manager soon.

I suppose vegging out on The Green Monster is a fitting sendoff for the end of a mellow vacation week, but the laundry monster awaits me this weekend. Ergo, a large suitcase will be coming with me to CT on Saturday, since my sister kidnapped my mom Thursday night (it's the only way to get her out of the house) and my younger niece is back home from San Francisco on a business trip (yes, such irony, I know).

So since Sis kidnapped Mom by car, my mission is to escort her back to NYC on Sunday via Metro-North Railroad.

Oh, and my bathroom scale also decided to start working again and informed me that I have gained... er, maybe 4 lbs (yikes!) which is not surprising considering the majority of my activities in SF consisted of eating, napping, and getting driven around in Curt's cute little chocolate brown Mini as we shopped for furniture for his loft.

Walking his sweet Black Lab Simon, and the pugs Samson (black) and Sadie (fawn) was in no way sufficient exercise. And scratching their ears for aeons didn't burn up the calories either. ;) Hey, did I mention that he lives in the appropriately named neighborhood of Dogpatch?

Speaking of eating, my last evening was at Walzwerk where I shared my gargantuan portion of schnitzel and spatzle and green beans with Curt and one of his friends. Curt had the Jaeger schnitzel, which was tempting, but I was fixated on some regular schnitzel.

Oh, and we started the evening off with some potato pancakes. Of course.

And then on Thursday, we had lunch in Noe Valley at La Boulange where I succumbed to more goat cheese in an open-faced sandwich with portobello mushroom, roasted red peppers, and pesto, all accompanied by lemonade.

Come to think of it, it's a wonder I only gained 4 lbs!

And as you can see, the late night flight and the time change are really wrecking my body clock. Sigh.

Purely P*rn

There was a reason I bought this tiny print many years ago: it does indeed express my acute... fondness for doing laundry.

So while I have made VAST improvements on the state of Chez Squirrel (my knitting lady friends can now be allowed back into my home as there is somehwere for them to SIT) one of my 2 laundry hampers [brights vs. darks] is stilll staring reproachfully at me. Oops.

But I put my shredder through its paces today, oh yes indeed. And I'd made a mix CD for my morning exercises which turned out to work equally well in terms of getting my a** moving a la housecleaning.

Lady GaGa may have eaten my brain, but she and many others (Tom Jones, Rihanna, Nelly Furtado, KC & The Sunshine Band, The Shanghai Restoration Project, and Lisa Stansfield circa 1990) powered me through several hours of cleaning on Sunday.

The cleaning was wedged in between two evenings of multi-course feasts at opposite ends of the budget spectrum.

Saturday night I went out with my friend Jane and the other 2 bridesmaids for dinner at A Voce in the Time Warner Center, which should've been a tipoff that it was a good thing I'd just gotten paid this week.

Does not the facade intimidate, er, I mean, indicate that you'd better be prepared to be swarmed over by hordes of black-garbed waitstaff? (Um, do I sound bitter? But actually, the staff was very pleasant and unobtrusive, and the evening was entertaining. And as A helpfully reminded me, it did indeed generate some luscious food porn.)

When I looked at the menu at the office on Friday afternoon (to scope out food options for my WW points), my hair turned a little whiter than it already is (from the prices).

But I sucked it up and resigned myself to the $$$$ since I had had weeks beforehand to poke around and raise an objection. Next time I know, that as Anthony Bourdain says so succinctly in his new book, Medium Raw (which is hilarious, by the way -- thank you Kobo and New York Public Library!) Chapter 3: The Rich Eat Differently Than You and Me. (I plan to read that chapter on the subway in the morning, so no, I dunno how differently, according to Mr. Pottymouth.)

My appetizer, though delicious ("Insalata di scarola - escarole, warm pancetta vinaigrette, soft boiled farm egg, pecorino romano") I did not capture for posterity as it was, well, a salad. And my wine ("Vernaccia di San Gimignano, Rocca delle Macie, Tuscany") though delightful, was also not memorialized.

My entree I tried to capture without a flash (BIG mistake) but I present here nonetheless the yummity Cappelacci del brigante ("hand crafted pasta, marinated mussels, garlic, marjoram") which I demolished happily.

For dessert, Jane ordered the semifreddo ("semi-frozen chocolate chip mousse, bitter orange, cocoa pizzelle").

Meanwhile, I was torn between this option below, the torta (chocolate walnut tart, cinnamon gelato, caramel) and what I eventually ordered.

When I appealed to our server (who remained elegantly nameless, thankfully) for help she grinned and laughed. (uh oh...) One was the house specialty and the other (the torta) caused the pastry chef to be hired/stolen from her previous employer. Heh. Decisions, decisions...

Since the other two bridesmaids helpfully ordered the torta, I was free to head straight for the house specialty, the Tuscan doughnuts ("Bomboloni alla Toscana - tuscan doughnuts, bittersweet chocolate"). That innocent description did not do justice to the superfluffy dough, dusted with crystal sugar and filled with warm custard.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Since they were huge and plentiful, everyone got to try some, and also the chocolate dipping sauce. There was no graceful way to eat them (that I could figure out anyway) and so by the end of dessert, my fingers were a sticky mess and I was a happy camper.

Since it is now very, very late (or early, depending on how you look at it) I will have to hold off on describing Sunday night's feast with two neighborhood friends.

In The Closet

You know the Closet of Disaster beloved of sitcoms and home organization shows? The one where you throw all sorts of crap in there and slam the door shut, knowing that to open it again would unleash an avalanche of garbage? Yeah, THAT closet.

Welcome to my psyche post-engineer.

On the other hand, you could also make the case that my apartment is already physically manifesting the eruption of my emotional trash, both aspects of which I've been studiously ignoring for weeks if not months now. (For those of you with hygiene phobias, fear not: my crap consists of papers and not anything that would generate new mutant life forms.)

Well this week's session with my Pearl of Wisdom started the process of at least cracking the door open to see how much I've stuffed into that clown car of a closet.

All of the above could explain why I am suffering from one of my periodic bouts of what I jokingly refer to as SMDS: Severe Motivational Deficiency Syndrome (a/k/a can't I just stay in bed forever?)

Being the perverse creature I am, however, I scheduled a 6:30 AM - 8:00 AM Fresh Direct delivery Thursday morning instead. While getting up before dawn is highly undesirable, it did provide me the chance to catch a spectacular sunrise.

Enjoy!

Rorschach Test

I looked around my living room this weekend (before I took off for CT with a giant load of laundry in my 3-weeks-in-China suitcase) and realized that I literally had no room in my life for anyone else at the moment. Hell, I have no room on my couch for anyone else!

Those of you who've seen the giant sofa I fondly call The Green Monster know what a scary concept that last statement is. (In fact, this Craigslist posting from Long Island [most likely soon to expire] gives you an idea of the size of my beloved six year old coccoon of sage green coziness.)

So yes, even my knitting buddies have been banned from my home for months now (sorry ladies) as I stubbornly resist dealing with the cluttered interior that is my brain and emotional cupboard. No room for anyone except me and my baggage (which I am working on getting down to carry-on size: right now, it's more like an entire car of a freight train). Once the emotional crap is cleared out, the physical mess always follows.

By the way, when I told my sister about last weeke's dream re: Engineer, she snorted that it was wishful thinking (very true) but the fact that I had it at all is kind of a timely reminder about that river in Egypt: just because I refuse to consciously think of the wreckage strewn in his wake, doesn't mean that my brain isn't chewing on it at some level (and yes, there's some level of anger I'm just not facing yet).

Ironically, the last time I mentioned a Rorschach test here on the blog, the world was a much different place: the Engineer and I were still on our "honeymoon" phase, and my brother-in-law was still (mostly) the man our family knew and loved. It's hard to believe that it's just been two years since he was diagnosed...

On a determinedly different note, I leave this lunchtime posting with a fabulously porkerific photo of dinner at Blue Smoke on Friday night with A. My favorite was actually the gi-normous beef rib with dry rub, and yes, this was the rib sampler for two!

Don't worry fellow WW fans, we rounded it out with chopped salad, collard greens (with bacon, natch), and cornbread, so I tried to minimize the damage points-wise, but oh was it tasty! (And rounded out by a nice glass of Malbec -- yum!)

Taking friendly advice

Okay, so it’s well past noon and I’ve been awake for 7 hours already and haven’t gotten dressed yet or taken a shower (though these days it's more like 3 showers/day anyway), although I have eaten breakfast (3 points including fruit), written and uploaded my Match dot com profile and sent out 4 messages. (Question: WTF is a guy in Oregon winking at me for?) Ready to go back to bed now!

Today is the second and final of my mental health days and it looks like it could be rather physically unproductive unless I get some more sleep. My problem is that my brain is up and running as soon as I open my eyes, even if my body is still tired. Just think: this is with DECAF only for the past week (although I do know that decaf still has some caffeine).

The food you see here is all from yesterday, where A pretty much fed me the whole way through our second and final official date, (which I should add lasted for 2 meals and um... let's see, 5 or 6 hours). Yes folks, we have arrived at the classic "we should just be friends stage" already, which is not so bad really, as he is too nice a guy to take advantage of or to take advantage of me, if that makes sense. Besides I seem to keep my guy friends a whole lot longer than my boyfriends in any case.

We have lots of fun together, can talk about almost anything with each other, and share plenty of common interests (and each think the other is attractive) but we're at very different stages in our lives, so friendly hugs are going to be the currency of the realm whenever we see each other.

And after the past year I've been feeling about as attractive as an old dishcloth, or 1970s wallpaper, or Alice The Maid on The Brady Bunch, or -- well, you get the idea -- (yeah, I didn't quite make it out unscathed from my relationship with the engineer, did I?) so male appreciation is very welcome at this point, because intellectually I believe my girlfriends when they tell me I'm a cute female, but there's nothing quite like a certain gleam in a guy's eyes to add conviction to that statement -- sorry ladies.

So as a friend, A gave me a gentle nudge and told me I should go start the dating whirlwind again (okay, those are my words, but that was his intent). I'm not/wasn't quite sure that I'm ready for this whole thing yet, but A assured me with very amusing emphasis that "oh yes, you're ready alright" so I'll just see if I can take some practice dates (is that like practice at-bats in softball?) and see what happens.

I've signed up for 3 months on Match (which seems to have added a gazillion question pages to the profile!) because that's usually how much patience I have with these things until I get completely fed up. Fortuitously enough, Yahoo also slapped on a free 8 day trial for transferring my info over from there to Match.

Okay, time to act like the babies I've been visiting all summer, and head for my last midday nap for a while.