February Funk

So I started off February all revved up about posting often. As you can see by the dates between today's blather and the previous one, that didn't work out so well.

The red eyes are on my REALLY bad days

Instead, I spent most of the month like this.

It didn't help that most of February was a constant blur of frigid temperatures, snow, sleet, wintry mix, and fossilized snow. For pete's sake, The Weather Channel is up to Winter Storm Thor. THOR! It seemed like a nasty storm would blow in like clockwork every Sunday, triggering an emergency alert from the office every Monday. BLEH. (And that's NOT my imagination: tonight's weather report said that happened 7 out of the past 9 weekends.)

The first half of February was a blur of clearing the decks so that I could go in for my outpatient bilateral laparoscopic salpingo-oophorectomy on Valentine's Day (oh the irony). That's the formal medical name, since I certainly didn't need the highways to nowhere (i.e., my tubes), once my ovaries were gone.

My anesthesiologist at Sloan-Kettering was hilarious though. Upon meeting me in the pre-op waiting area, he (a) enlightened us as to the difference between general anesthesia and twilight sedation, [In general anesthesia, the machines are breathing for me. Luckily, I was unconscious before they put the respiratory tube down my throat. Yuck.] and (b) gave me a pop quiz:

Dr. A: [casually] So what'd you eat for breakfast?

Me: [promptly] NO!

Dr. A: Right answer! You get to go ahead with your procedure.

My awesome friend Marci accompanied me for the day, and made sure I made it home okay. She also kindly unearthed my bed, hidden under several sacks of clean -- yes, clean -- laundry.  (Sidenote: general anesthesia totally SUCKS! Found out that I am one of those folks who will totally barf if not given an anti-emetic. Plus, days of post-op lethargy. "Oh, I've been awake for all of 3 hours? Time to pass out again." [THUD...Zzzzz...])

So all that took more out of me than I expected.  But although I had President's Day off, and took the rest of the week off as well, my sister left for Florida that Wednesday, and so my brother-in-law dropped mom back off at her place.  I felt like a total rebel for not returning till Thursday night, whereupon I found out she had a terrible cold. That led to a fun few weeks.

Mmmm... crispy Peking duck burrito

I. Am. So. Tired.

SO tired.

It makes me super-cranky when at work (which mercifully, is NOT in the office, except once a week).

Luckily, I had planned some fun events for later in the month, like a belated Chinese New York banquet with my friends (Peking duck makes EVERYTHING better!)

[This is making me hungry...brief pause for dinner, a la realtime blogging like Pinky Guererro.]

Oops...that was an extremely long break, since I took time out to eat, watch THE WALKING DEAD (best not to combine the 2 activities), and then BATTLE CREEK (what can I say? I've always had a soft spot for Dean Winters, a\k\a The Mayhem Guy in the hilarious Allstate ads -- FYI: there are apparently 4-6 ads deemed too violent to air on TV. Dayum! SO wanna see those !)

Our view in Town Hall

Speaking of funny, I also went to see Craig Ferguson's standup show with as part of his Hot & Grumpy Tour, with my pals Jackie Blue and Marci. I needed a night of pure relaxation, where we were laughing until I was literally wiping tears from my eyes. He reminded me of Eddie Izzard in style, so we were all happy campers. And his opening act was Josh Robert Thompson, the voice of Geoff The Gay Robot from Craigy Ferg's LATE, LATE SHOW. (JRT does an absolutely uncanny impersonation of Morgan Freeman which had the audience in stitches, BTW.)


And along other disorienting thoughts -- besides a 40 year old white guy sounding like a 77 year old black man -- is the idea that my cat and I share a common trait: we've both been fixed.

Just because I decided years ago that I didn't want (human) children, doesn't mean it doesn't still leave me slightly bemused of being biologically incapable of having offspring. Also causing a "WHOA!" moment is the thought that if I ever have sex again (HA!) I will no longer need birth control. (Fear not: that doesn't mean no safe sex. I came of age during the discovery of AIDS, after all. But since the goal of all of this surgery is to leave me with no estrogen, I have ZERO libido.)  And I'm still wrapping my head around the concept of no more periods EVER. Never ever ever. HALLELUJAH! Once that fully sinks in, I will be doing my Snoopy impression.

Soooooo YES! (And I know I'm going to grammar hell for all of my double negatives.)

So yeah, I have a lot of major life changes going on that have yet to fully sink in.

And I have no idea of how I'm going to get out from under my current routine which leaves me a Super Cranky Squirrel, as most of my vacation days have been spoken for between a trip in July, and all of the medical appointments for Mom and myself. (Did I mention my sister is in Florida for the month?) The eldercare lawyer is going to put in a Medicaid application for Mom, in order for the potential to get some home care help, but that'll be months in the making.

(Related aside: I freaking HATE dealing with HSBC. They are the most unhelpful bank EVER. And I'm supposed to be a freaking Premier customer. Asshats. Despise them with a tired, dimly burning passion -- if I had more energy, it'd be the fire of a thousand suns, but as things stand, well...)

But I digress.

Have started seeing my therapist again this year (affectionately referred to as my Pearl of Wisdom), and she's helped me recognize that part of the reason I may be so exhausted -- besides the obvious one of having 2 full time jobs -- is that somewhere deep inside I am angry, and repressing all of that anger is very tiring exercise. Looking after my Mom is a labor of love, and I don't resent doing it, but I do feel like I'm paddling in the middle of the ocean with one oar.

I. Am. So. Tired.

TripleC is exhausted just thinking of everything I have to do.

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!

Doing It Right

Rhinebeck 2012 - a\k\a The NY State Sheep & Wool Festival
Yes, last year, but the yarn porn is still luscious.

There is an account on Twitter named Cat Food Breath written by some hilarious human from their cat's point of view. I laughed when s/he tweeted, "If you're home on Saturday night with your cat, you're doing it right." So yeah, I'm doing it right.

Honestly, I'm very happy to be here, chilling out with Emily, my face-palming yoga kitty.  She is a calm and affectionate cat, very quiet, who rarely meows unless she's accidentally locked out (oops -- then she lets loose an unearthly yowl at tremendous volume [my mom found that story hilarious] ) or when I'm about to feed her some of her new wet food (Nature's Variety Instinct, which is 95% meat and US-sourced) made from rabbit, venison, or lamb -- she seems to have become allergic to the duck. Ironically, the SPCA recommended the duck because she was allergic to who-knows-what, most likely chicken and fish.

Yes, I know, I sound like the crazy about my cat lady. To seal the deal, here is a photo of her, since she had not entered my life yet when I stopped writing in here in May of 2011. (Her adoptaversary is Sept. 16, 2011.)

"I can't believe mom is watching Criminal Minds AGAIN."

Emmy has been a godsend during my transition to working at home 80% of the time, since her undemanding companionship has kept me from completely losing what's left of my mind.

Our company has decreed that my team may have 2 full-time cubes for 7 people. Yes, really. When we go in once a week, we have to book a hotel space (read: cubicle) somewhere in the building. Yes, that is indeed a total pain in the patootie.  Part of my depression this summer may stem from the isolation, since as my friend Marci pointed out, I am one of the most social people she knows, and SHE used to work in theater!

So at the suggestion of my friend Dale, I am bumping it up to TWO consecutive days a week, for the sake of both logistics and my sanity. That way I can lock up the laptop overnight and not have to haul it around constantly, schedule meetings over 2 different work days, meet some friends for lunch, etc. There is also something to be said for actual face-to-face contact to transmit info. E-mail has its limits, as does my inbox. Plus, I need to remember how to act among my corporate cohorts (good point Dale) since I was turning into a total slob: it took 4 months, but I did devolve into working in my PJs.

Rhinebeck, October 2012 -
what Central Park is starting to look like only NOW...in November!

Speaking of digging my way out from under, evidently my long, rational discussion with my new brother-in-law (for the sake of brevity, I will refer to him henceforth as BIL#2) had only alleviated my anger at my sister briefly. BIL#2 and I carefully and diplomatically discussed the causes of my door-slamming outburst the morning after it happened. BIL#2 seems like a reasonable person, and his family are lovely salt-of-the-earth Brooklynites, who sound nothing like Bugs Bunny. Coincidentally, I noticed that I was notably calmer at work the next week, because I had finally, after a YEAR, gotten to express some of my feelings.

My furious outburst in my recent post (which represented MY feelings, not everyone else's) made me realize I'm still a long way from over my frustration with my sister. The rest of my family has probably worked out their issues long ago, but it's taken me a long time to get to this point (i.e., acknowledging that I'm STILL really angry since we went from being very close to "I might as well not have a sibling" ).      

And last but not least, my MRI found no trace of cancer in my giant skull. Many thanks to my friend Ellen for bugging me to finally call my oncologist.  For some reason, onco-doc had forgotten to call me back with the results, even though she had sent the info to my GP, whom I saw for part 1 of my annual physical on Thursday. Monday I'm going back to my ophthalmologist for a follow-up about my crazy, lazy eyeballs, that have been giving me headaches. (And people wonder why I want to haul back and clock the asshat Republicans who try to kill Obamacare.)

But to prove that a healthy cerebellum does not necessarily equate to good taste, here's a photo of my guilty pleasure heartthrob (ever since the early 1990s-- hey, I'm consistent!) from his new movie and directorial debut, MAN OF TAI CHI. Considering Karen Mok and Simon Yam are both in it as well, I may have to buy this, since it's legally available online via my cable company.

Not bad for a 49 year old, eh?

And NOW, time to set all the clocks back and enjoy an extra hour of sleep tonight. WOOHOO!

Marvin The Martian

My Sis and bro-in-law's backyard faces protected wetlands (win!)
Extra points if you spot the 2/F birdhouse they installed

Sooooo...my sister is a butthead.*  (I revert to immature language when confronted with immaturity, apparently.) It's taken me quite a while to wrap my head around the idea that she really doesn't seem to care that she's systematically pissed off her entire family, to the point that we've each individually yelled at her.

Considering that we are the stereotypical "aim for consensus and harmony at all costs" Asian-American family, that takes sustained effort. But hey, my sister is always willing to apply elbow grease when and where it suits her.

Let's review everyone she's hurt, upset, and infuriated this past year, shall we?

Her three children and their spouses? Check! Check! And check!

Her only sibling? Yup.

Her late husband's sister? (He, like me, only had one sibling.) Ding! Ding! Ding!

Her only living parent? You betcha!

(In fact, my mom made the ultimate slam this week when she said,"Your sister is just like her father." [Technically, we're half-sisters on my mom's side, but we were raised together, more or less.] Considering my mom still hates her first husband with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns, even 60 years later...Ouch!)

Since we are a very small family, Sis is literally batting 1.000.

Do I sound bitter? That's because I am bitter. Like a pot of coffee left on the burner too long.

I can't think too much about this at the moment, or my blood pressure will rise and I won't be able to get to sleep. Instead I'll just try to remember what my nephew calmly said,"She's made her decision and her priority is very clear."

Bah.

I'll just stick to playing with the babies in my family, and visiting my late brother-in-law's grave when I can (with other relatives).

Note the toy cars from his grandsons. - I miss you, big brother.

And in other news, I have not heard back from my oncologist about the MRI of my giant skull, so I guess no news is good news, since doctors are usually really prompt about bad news.

Now I need to go to sleep, since it's long past my bedtime, and I'll be on a new floor at work tomorrow, with the grand poobahs.

P.S. *It was unintentionally hilarious trying to explain the term "butthead" to my very correct, older German relatives.  "So do you remember the show 'Beavis and Butthead'? No? Oh well...let's see now..."

Equal Opportunity Offender

Normally when I go for my oncology checkups, it's in the breast cancer building. So it was really startling to go into one of the main MSKCC buildings for my MRI and be surrounded by a co-ed mixture of patients, in all shapes, sizes, ages, and ethnicities. Cancer is such an egalitarian bastard.

As predicted, I fell asleep during the actual MRI, despite the loud, STAR TREK phaser sounds constantly pinging around my head. (They gave me earplugs, and gently taped my head in place.) And afterward, the phlebotomist (blood tech) was superb with my already-punctured inner elbow, to draw a tube to analyze.

So it was physically painless, but I guess the test is still making me anxious, because despite telling myself repeatedly NOT to take the wrong subway home, I wound up in Queens instead of Harlem. Duh.

Won't know the results for a few days, I imagine. But as my sister pointed out, if there were anything REALLY wrong, I probably would've already heard back from my doctor by now. 

Ah, my sister.

I am in Connecticut, awaiting the weekend visit of my older niece and her daughter from Puerto Rico, where their whole family moved in May.  So I am staying with my sister and brother-in-law in their home.

Had a short, bitter argument with sis tonight after she called me a selfish, rude person, who constantly expects to be entertained. I yelled back that I was going to my room before I said something I'd regret.

Slamming the door created a satisfyingly loud bang.

And yes, the title of this post is equally applicable to her, since I am not the only person she's been so extremely gracious toward during the past year.

Sitting w/Grandma in the park after our lunch in Chinatown :-)

Happy Mother's Day to the moms in our family! Love, Auntie S.

Still processing...

Thank you to those of you who wrote to me. Your kind words were truly appreciated. I'm sorry if I haven't replied individually, but just like those endless "wait / status " messages on your computer, I'm still processing... and at odd moments (like when I'm crossing the street) I'll have the urge to burst into tears. Being my mother's daughter though, I really have a hard time letting them flow, which is starting to affect my sleep...

My brother-in-law was really like my second father, since he married my sister when I was six, and my own father died when I was thirteen. He helped shape the person I became, and was always there for me with a hug and a smile, teasingly calling me "the family's professor".

When we had his 70th birthday party (only four years ago, before Alzheimer's truly took him away from us) I think I made remarks (into a microphone!) to the effect that all of my best attributes came from him, and any faults were purely my own. Judging from the eulogies, the extremely large (intercontinental) turnout at his memorial service last Sunday (Feb. 6th), and most of all, the three wonderful children he helped raise, I was not alone in this feeling. The church was full, and we truly celebrated the generous, honorable, and compassionate man that he was.

Tomorrow, I will go visit my sister in CT, and probably drive her nuts with the number of hugs I will give her (I am a hugger, she, less so) but part of that is because I am needing the hugs myself these days.

I hope she will like the changes to my brother-in-law's memorial website that I have made. Like my absentminded contemplation of different funerary customs across cultures (Chinese, Jewish, Egyptian, Christian... see why he called me his professor?) my devotion to building his site is one way of dealing with his loss.

For those of you who work in finance, please take the time to read his friend's eulogy, which was truly eye-opening for me. I never knew that Paul Volcker (then Chairman of the Fed) and the people on the masthead (?) of the HSBC annual reports all paid attention to his comments. To his family, he was always just a loving, humble, humorous man who worked somewhere on Wall Street and always made sure the backyard bird feeder was full.

For those of you who don't know or care who Stephen Green is, there's a photo I love showing my brother-in-law as a young man. He's smiling with amusement at the photographer, and it's quite startling to realize he was a hottie! I mean he was always an attractive man, but it's like looking at your dad and thinking, "Wow! No wonder my mom [literally, MY mom -- whom many of you have met] always said he was good lookin'!"

Okay, I'm kind of rambling. Clearly time for sleep. No, not the eternal kind either. (The burial was last Monday, the 7th, and it was a sunny but not frigid day.) Yes, definitely rambling.

Telegram

Ok, I actually have lots of entertaining subjects to talk about, but right now, only 2 things really matter, and neither of them are fun.

My brother-in-law passed away today.

This is the 2nd anniversary of my lumpectomy.

Lots of mixed feelings about both, but nothing coherent right now.

More in a few days.

Minor update

Flora Grubb is Curt's happy place ;)

No giganto suitcase of laundry to CT today, only a tote bag, as Mom has decreed that I will be staying over at her place tomorrow night, whereupon I will depart for work in the AM, going straight to a show Monday evening with my friend Marci: Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson (or as their ad says, "history just got all sexypants"). Thus, no large suitcase will be trundling along behind me for the next 72 hours.

I leave you all with more food porn (I could just taste to luscious amounts of butter in Piccino's ginger scone, a weakness of both Curt's and mine), and one of the plant sculptures (for lack of a better term) at Flora Grubb, which Curt not so jokingly calls his happy place -- and I can see why!

There were so many visually arresting tableaus that I wound up taking at least half a dozen shots (that I do not have time to post right now, since there's a Metro North train calling my name: major BBQ tonight with both the German and Chinese sides of the family, at the "big house" which my sister has returned to after the departure of her summer tenants).

Ciao!

Piccino's ginger scone rocks my world

Dinner date with a magical animal

Nothing says "I want you to visit NOW" like when your mom oh-so-casually mentions that she just 'happened' to make some pork zongzi, a dish that requires 8 hours of stovetop cooking.

So I got back from my conference in DC laaaaate last night and tonight I promptly wolfed down 2 of the dense delights (pork, fresh peanuts, and salted egg yolks [made separately ahead of time], all surrounded by sticky rice, each wrapped in a banana leaf, boiled for 5 hrs, steeped overnight, and then boiled for another 3 hrs) at Mom's.

Yes, I know that 2 of those babies probably equal my entire WW points budget for the whole day (if not more) but sometimes, you just gotta break the bank.

Mom, meanwhile, was giggling delightedly as she watched my willpower implode in a massive fireball of gluttony, and admitting, "Gee I guess that's not going to help with your weight loss, is it?"

No, Mom. It's really not ;) but I know food = luuuv, so hey :)

Points if you can pick out Mom's building in the distance.

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Institutional ecosystems

You know how I have the acronym RTBT for Reasons To Be Thankful? (And there are always many RTBT.) Well it occurs to me that every now and then (or lately, more often than that) I have gotten supremely cranky, and who better to be the archetype of crankiness than my beloved Marvin The Martian? (BTW, all crankfest posting will henceforth be tagged with MTM.)

I was so fond of his antisocial tendencies that one of my exes once bought me a MTM pillow which I still have. And considering my mom, I come by my crankiness the old-fashioned way: both nature AND nurture!

The current upheaval at work is just stoking the crank-o-meter with premium unleaded: we are moving offices to a building a few blocks away on Friday and boy oh boy has the process been fun (you know, like a root canal). Welcome to our entry area this morning, once they started dissambling the bookshelves (and check out the toolboxfilled with noisy power tools, heh):

We are moving to a place where we do not know how many cabinets or drawers each person will have (we have been wheedling the nice guy from the moving company to tell us how big each filing cabinet drawer is, since he's seen it but we haven't, not even our boss), and to a floor where the library (our vastly reduced reference collection) will be located on the other side of the floor from the librarians (oh yeah, that would be US).

If you picture the entire floor as a square clock, we are at 5:00 and the stacks are at 12:00. So we will be traipsing through another department's cubicles each and every time we need to get a book. (Yes, I know -- time to break out my pedometer and see how many WW activity points I can rack up every day.)

If this all doesn't sounds like much to be all MTM about, consider that there are many things I am NOT posting here out of discretion (what little I apparently still possess), but here's on factor for ya: on a floor of almost 90 people, there are 4 ladies room stalls. Yep, a whole whopping FOUR.

According to the American Restroom Association (yes, there really is such an organization; no, I'm not making this up), there are designated ratios based on occupancy for such facilities (we're not even going to get into gender disparities here, people) and they are remarkably chintzy.

So on this particular topic, I leave you all with this thought: I drink 8 - 10 glasses of water / beverages a day.

But also, all of the moving will have an unfortunate ripple effect on our support staff: the security guards, cleaning staff, newsstand operator in the lobby, etc. None of them know if they will be transferred over, and some of them already know they will be unemployed at the end of the year, when the current building is completely emptied. When you see people every day for 6 years, saying hello/goodnight with a smile, you do wind up worrying about them, especially since they are all uniformly pleasant and friendly.

So RTBT: they are keeping us and we will remain employed (with good health coverage -- YOWSA!)

And on unrelated but droolworthy note, I leave you with French pastry p*rn (hazelnut and coconut macaroons, French butter cookies, and chocolate-covered almonds, oh my!) each of which is bigger than my palm. They're from the Financier Patisserie mini-chain scattered throughout downtown.

Also, I have been requested by my relatives to no longer post photos of their superadorable offspring here. So while I may rave about their fabulous cuteness, I will no longer be able to put my memory card where my mouth is.

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!)

Instructions not included

I was having a lovely time with my older grandnephew (he was being very sweet and serious), and doing quite well despite the lack of assembly instructions (after his mom had put half of it together) but then we realized that an important piece was missing. Oops.

It was hilarious when he sternly told me "to just focus and look for the piece" since he sounded just like his dad (don't worry, I treated his instructions very seriously). He said he'd help me "yook ebbywhere".

His younger brother was his usual sunny self and played blocks with me while his mom folded laundry in another room (I'm tellin' ya: I'm totally up for free babysitting, though I realize kids also don't come with an instruction sheet) and submitted to my many requests for hugs and kisses.

Hey, even Thomas (pictured here) gave me a kiss. A gave me lots of hugs last night, and Olivia (with the help of my sister) gave me smiles and baby giggles this afternoon. I'm on a roll!

Now waiting for my massage, in 20 min...

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Guys I love

Here you see my younger grandnephew and his dad. I just love Nicky to bits and I think my niece's husband is a really great guy. (My 4 y.o. grandnephew runs away from me so Dunno much about him yet. Rejected again!)

My brother-in-law, before the disease, was one of the most wonderful men I knew, and my nephew is a chip off the old block .

I remind myself of these menfolk as I confront the behavior of my ex, at the close of our relationship. How disappointed am I that I had to call his parents to get him to even acknowledge that he owed me a REPLY about exchanging stuff? What're we? 12 year olds?

Maybe it's best that blogging from my phone imposes a 1,000 character limit per post, so I can't dwell as much on The End.

Oh screw it ... I'll continue this on the laptop.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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Beach baby bingo

I had SUCH a nice time with my family in CT this weekend: got to see my newest grandniece Olivia (who smiled and laughed and burped all over me -- it's official: I'm accepted!) and my older grandniece Lilly (whose feet you see peeking in the corner of the photo), my sister (of course), nephew (Lilly's dad), and older niece (Olivia's mom), and brother-in-law.

That last item makes me want to cry when I think about it too much (today, he was unresponsive to any stimuli) but I guess one way I deal with it is my brain somehow just recognizes him as a different person altogether than the man who used to teasingly call me "professor".

Ok, determined change of subject: at one point this morning, all 4 of us took over the swing set at the beach playground (Lilly, nephew, sis, me) and had a blast. Wheee!

And in the late afternoon I was sleepy and longing for a nap and Sis asked me, "Why not?" Good point, Sis! So I did. :)

Now I'm on the train back to NYC and thinking life CAN be good.

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The geekfest continues

So I may be 42 but it feels like I'm going on 22... every other weekend, I bring my dirty laundry to my sister's house and do laundry there. Heh. The key attraction is that her laundry room is COOL, while my building's laundry room, though capacious, is broilingly hot in the summer.

So as a thank you, I told her she was my date last night and took her to see Inception, which was completely absorbing and very complex (but hey, what do you expect from the director of Memento? BTE, nice URL for Memento, eh? Heheheh) And like his previous matryoshka doll of a movie, it would not only be difficult to explain the plot of Inception, it would be So Wrong to spoil it. Even most of the trailers were for a more interesting breed of film. RED, for instance, is an acronym for "Retired Extremely Dangerous" and looks extremely entertaining, that is, if you find the idea of Helen Mirren as an assassin lots of fun (which I do -- hee hee hee).

(Belated note to self: so far, of the 6 movies of his that I've seen, all were engrossing, so I'd better keep an eye out for Christopher Nolan's work in the future)

On the "home" front, I've finished Stones Into Schools on my Kobo, and have now started Game Change which I'm finding to be like the literary equivalent of an episode of West Wing: fascinating yet hair-raising.

Also from the library, the eBook of Anne Perry's latest William Monk novel, Execution Dock, awaits me.

Life is good.

And the photo above is from the entry area of Kittichai, where I went for a Summer Restaurant Week dinner this past Wednesday night with my friends Jackie and Marci. Food p*rn to follow in another post, but their decor is tres chic, no?

Big and little

I think Cinderella is a sweet and pretty (not to mention superfluffy) cat, don't you? Ironically, I have not seen her this weekend, as I have been at my sister's new home, a cute little 2 BR, 1.5 bath cottage in town (I walked from the train station! woohoo! and even made a detour along the way to the LYS here, which is closing on the 30th: the Greenwich branch of String). This weekend has been dedicated to setting up her new network and upgrading her PCs.

In fact, that's where I am right now, waiting for some software upgrades to finish downloading. While the wifi router (which I had never gotten around to installing at home, so I gave it to my sister -- heh) is working fine (finally) with her cable modem, Microsoft is -- as always -- being a pig: you know Windows XP service pack 2 is 266 MB? And since they are ceasing support of SP2 on July 13th, I figured I might as well download SP3 as well, but since THAT is 316MB, it's taking quite a while for both to finish chugging through.

The reason this is so pressing is that (a) her old Dell (not her new netbook) is just impossibly slow -- in fact, the day is coming shortly when either she or I will be throwing that thing from the roof -- and (b) my old Acer laptop has been working fine before I gave it to my big sis but none of the new antivirus software programs will work with SP1. Not a problem when it was sitting in my closet, but kind of key if my sister is going to use it as her primary PC. (HEY! My sister now wins for having the most PCs in the family: she has THREE! HA!)

Ooh, the download for SP2 just finished. Time to go!

But I will leave you with a photo of the pieces I just finished at the other ceramics studio: a giant coffee mug to replace my the one still (and at this point, now and forever) left at my ex's place, and some tiny soy sauce cups for my mom, who broke the one I made for her -- she wants to put them INSIDE her plates of food, a la chips & dip, so they are as small as shot glasses (or sake cups, depending on your point of reference -- heh).

Ding! SP3 just finish downloading. Okay, ciao for now!

Ode to my sister

So it occurred to me this weekend that my sister is a rather fabulous human being. She has been faced with an escalating serious of shocks and challenges over the past few years which would rock anyone (say hi to Cinderella, by the way, the friendly cat at my brother-in-law's nursing home) amd instead, she just gets on with it -- no complaints or whining about "Why me?"

That's not to say I don't see her with the occasional reddened eyes after an abrupt dash to powder her nose, etc. (she's strong -- not superhuman) but really, I told her that I am so proud of her for the way she has handled everything with such grace and strength. I mean who else do you know who's gone back to work at 60 (yes, she looks fabulously young for her age) after 35 years without complaint? (AND looks smashing while doing so?)

And at the end of the month, she'll be temporarily moving into a small cottage since she is renting out her home to help with finances (see: expensive nursing home, above) so I'm doing what I can in my own little way: I am her personal Geek Squad with technology issues such as setting up her wifi, etc.

That is the message of the day, folks: my sister rocks.

And now on a completely frivolous note, here's what I had for dinner with my friend Curt last Friday at Maze, one of Gordon Ramsay's NYC restaurants, selected from their very tasty pre-theatre prix fixe menu:

Starters

Octopus terrine with Kalamata olives
crisp potatoes, pickled shallots, sauce vierge
(me)

Tortellini of beef short rib
escarole, trompette royale and dashi
(Curt - but voted by both of us as our favorite dish of the night)

Main courses

Carnaroli risotto of parsley
preserved lemon and mascarpone
(both of us - delicious with the lemon flavor, but not photographed since it it was, let's face it, a big green blob of risotto with some daintily sliced lemons)

Desserts

Chocolate pudding
stout ice cream, pretzel, peanut butter powder
(me - yummy, but I'm afraid the stout ice cream was wasted on me since I dislike beer, but hey, I was curious about the flavor)

Valrhona chocolate fondant
green cardamom caramel sea salt and almond ice cream
(Curt - tasty but not exactly photogenic either: chocolate cake in a ramekin)

And now, lunch time is OVAH!

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Sleeping in Seattle

Unlike that famous movie (whose stars I loathe) I have no problems sleeping here in Seattle as I visit my friend Margaret, her husband, and their adorable son (supercute, no?) Since he is also an admirably good-natured baby, there are no nighttime interruptions for adult sleep (or at least, not during my trip -- I was not here for the first few months of his life, heh).

Getting here, however, was kind of an obstacle course of sorts (good luck finding the correct terminal and gate for your flight at Newark if it's not a major airline) and most traumatically, the death of my Palm Pilot a few days before takeoff (a 6-hour flight without music?! aaaiiieeee!)

Instead of trying to upgrade my phone, as I had been planning to do anyway (I'd rather do it online instead and save at least $50) I decided to "spend" the $50 I'd "save" by buying a small MP3 player instead. Meet the Sansa Fuze, a teeny red 4GB player that was on sale at the local Best Buy. I promptly loaded about 700 songs on there, discovered that one of my fillings had fallen out the next day (getting that fixed the day after my return), got a giant request at work the day I was trying to leave for the airport, and eventually fled the jurisdiction.

Before the hectic rush for my trip (where I am now enjoying leisurely afternoons knitting, shopping with my friend Margaret, and playing with the ridiculously cute and enviably sweet-natured munchkin here, there were various family gatherings (Mother's Day, Memorial Day) filled with more knitting (like the sweater I made for my new great-niece Olivia? I call it the Easter egg sweater, due to its colors), and more cute little people.

Here, for instance, is a photo of my great-nephew Nicky, playing with the birthday present I bought for his second birthday at Kidding Around, an independent toy store downtown near my friend Jackie.

This game (whose name I forgot to look at, or I'd heartily recommend it to other toddler parents) teaches both motor coordination (you have to push the balls through the opening with the plastic hammer, or in Nicky's first few attempts -- his hand, heh) and color matching (the ball colors match the openings). The ball then rolls down the tubes, and emerges at the bottom, ready for the next round of mayhem.

Now Nicky is normally a very easygoing child, which is good, since his older brother is very not. This was the first toy which inspired Nicky to put his tiny foot down and stake his claim. HA! (The whole family -- except for his brother -- cheered. Heh.)

Speaking of family, and babies, here is a photo of my mom with her newest great-grandchild, 3-week old Olivia.

Moms and babies

I have another grand-niece and she's a cutie! Olivia Kate (7 lbs. 14 oz.) arrived yesterday morning and mother and baby are doing well. Normally, I think infants look unnervingly like Yoda, but she actually looks cute! (As I may have mentioned before, my niece and her husband produce remarkably attractive offspring, and no, I am not biased; see: Yoda comment, above.)

When in a funk, babies (that you can return to their parents) and family (that you like) are very comforting, so my mom and I went up to CT for Mother's Day weekend and saw the gang.

It was Mom's first visit to see my brother-in-law in the nursing home and he was doing much better this time (fentanyl is your friend -- the absence of pain works wonders on anyone's state of mind). He occasionally had flashes of lucidity where he would recognize my mom or me. Then seconds later, he would be off in his own world again. (I have to admit that those flashes are more disorienting than when he just stares at us blankly.)

Also confusing -- to me -- is the fact that he looks better, but the doctors are mentioning "hospice" and urging my sister to think about "making arrangements". I understand intellectually why this is (I mean, he has now been taken off solid foods altogether because he may choke) but emotionally I'm in denial, I guess.

As for my non-romantic situation, I'm in the angry portion of the seven stages of grief (and when I get angry I eat apparently -- I have gained several pounds to date). I also distract myself with retail therapy (thankfully, I am cheap, so this involves outlets and eBay, not Bulgari or Armani) and vacation planning.

You can see why babies, Mom (I spend a lot of time at her place, knitting -- she found me the matching buttons for this sweater I finished for Sonya's future baby girl) and my lively family (Sonya is my brother-in-law's niece, by the way) are such welcome distractions, especially since my home (always a manifestation of my enotional health) is completely overrun -- it rather looks like the post-tornado Midwest, or as one friend said recently, "Jeez -- are you moving or what?" Yes, it's THAT messy.

And now, lunch time is OVAH.