Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Vacation Blogging

Here I am blogging at you from my vacation in Sunriver.  If that doesn't show my dedication to you people, I don't know what does.  Sunriver is a beautiful, relaxing place in the high desert of central Oregon.  There is little to do but sit in the sun, ride bikes, play golf, and lounge in the hot tub.  Each time we come here we rent a house, stock it with our every imaginable snack-food indulgence, make pot after pot of coffee and ratchet down our lives for a week.  The air is hot and smells freshly of pine.  Deer wander between the houses with their fawns bounding behind them. Sitting on the deck, the soundtrack is that of birds chattering and chirping.  Even the kids slow down here, content to color or read or run around outside in the scrubby open space behind the house.  I relax my "screen-time" restrictions with the kids so David gets a lot more Gameboy time.  If he sits outside hunched over it in the fresh air, that counts as healthy, right?

I had big plans to get my shopping done in preparation for this trip, but then I ended up sick all last week.  My main priority was to get a new bathing suit.  Like most women I know, bathing suit shopping is right up there with going to the dentist and I will put off both as long as possible.  The last two suits I bought were both from Land's End.  They make tankinis which are almost universally flattering, if somewhat utilitarian looking.  Seeing as I am, shall we say, a bit well-endowed, utilitarian is about the most I can ask for in a bathing suit.  All those suits with skinny little straps and shelf bras....if I wore one, the neckline would end up down around my waist.   If  I could find one with pneumatic lift, I'd be happy. 

I figured I'd head to Sears and pick up a new version of what I had, but instead I was writhing around on the couch staving off nausea.  I happened to pick up an Eddie Bauer catalog during one of my more lucid moments.  And there, through my feverish haze, I saw it.  A bathing suit with built in DD cups.  All thoughts of illness left me as I beheld this wonder.  I dragged myself to the computer and ordered it posthaste complete with expedited shipping.  From there I prayed it would arrive before we left town.  And Friday evening it did!  I immediately put it on.  It's a one piece made to look like a tankini.  (I believe they call it a "Fauxkini".  How many marketing meetings before they came up wth that one?  "I know!  How about Shamkini?"  )  The bottom layer is what they call their "Miracle Suit" which is code for "compress all your vital organs in the name of fashion".  Putting on the suit required many minutes of yanking and breath-holding.  And that was just to get it over my waist.  Then came the bodice, which did indeed have industrial sized cups.   You know how most bathing suits collapse into a little whisper of fabric when you take them off?   Not this one.  This one remains the exact same shape and size whether or not it is on my body.  Who knew Eddie Bauer had cornered the market on whalebone stays?  

But despite all that, it's a very flattering suit and I'm pleased as punch to have cute little straps for a change.  (If you're wondering, I got it in periwinkle.  If you're wondering if I'll post a picture of myself in it, the answer is no and you're a damn dirty pervert.)

All right, I'm outta here.  Time to brush the bugs off the keyboard and go inside for a snack.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Rambling

It's been a long, sucky week.  All four of us have been sick.  Plus we had house guests for five days.  And all this while the house is on the market.  I could whine and whine for paragraphs on end, but I won't.  Only because I'm not feeling well enough to type it all out.  Not because of any sort of "suffer in silence" mentality.  (When I die, no one will ever say, "We never heard a word of complaint out of her".  It'll be more along the lines of:  "Thank God all that bitching has finally stopped for good".)

Here are some assorted ramblings....

My sister's book is available now!  It's doing really well and has been in the top 100 for computer books on Amazon.  Not bad for the little sister who once pissed me off so badly that I threw a metal dust pan at her head. 

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Juliana decided yesterday that she was going to try staring at the phone really, really hard and see if she could see who was on the other end.  Do you think this will require pharmacological treatment?

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David's birthday party is tomorrow.  He turned nine last Friday.  NINE!  How is that possible?  He is so cute and funny.  Well, sometimes he's a complete and utter pain in the ass what with the eye-rolling and attitude, but he can be so charming and sweet and just plain hilarious.  He's working a pretty good dry and sarcastic sense of humor which, as you might imagine, is well-rewarded in this family.  We're doing a low budget birthday party in our greenspace with outside games and make your own sundaes. I love that we have the room out back for all these kids to play.  I bought enough ice cream to feed the neighborhood kids as well.  (Doesn't this sound like an idyllic place to live?  Wouldn't you like to BUY MY HOUSE?  Remember when I said moving was like being pregnant?  Here's another similarity I found.  You know how annoying it is when, during your last tri-mester, people keep asking you, "Didn't ya have that baby yet?"  Well, if one more fucking person asks me, "Did you sell your house yet?" I am gonna blow.)

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When you have the stomach flu like I had this week with pervasive nausea and omnipresent gurgling so that the very act of driving a car gives you motion sickness, the last thing you need is a severe case of the hiccups.  Why not just make me jump on a trampoline?  My organs were doing their damndest to escape on their own; they didn't really need that extra help.  I'm talking to you, diaphragm.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

It's A Miracle!

Last night Ritu got back into town from a quick business trip.  When he got home, he took five minutes and --get this-- completely unpacked his suitcase.  And then--are you sitting down?--he took the empty suitcase and PUT IT AWAY IN THE CLOSET.  In fifteen years of marriage, I have never known this man to exhibit such behavior.  If this is a side effect of having the house on the market, I'm off to go up the price. 

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

A Second Juliana

Last week I was feeling sorry for myself.  Ritu was out of town, and I was worn out from being a single parent and getting the house ready to go on the market. Sheesh, how whiny can I be?  We're able to choose to upgrade to a nicer, bigger house for our happy, healthy family.  WAH WAH FRICKIN' WAH.  I needed Livia Soprano to hit me with a "Poor You".    I tend to get so caught up in the moment that I lose sight of the big picture.  Really, what the hell do I have to complain about?  This is a small, temporary bump in a lovely, smooth road. 

I got to thinking about this show I'd seen on TLC or Discovery Health or someplace like that.  I watch the documentaries on those channels with a morbid fascination.  Shows like  Half-Ton Man,  200 pound Tumor, and  I Am My Own Twin.  I could watch them endlessly while cringng and marveling.  A few months ago, I sat down to watch one called Born Without a Face.  It was about a little girl named Juliana Wetmore who was born with Treacher Collins Syndrome which left her without 30-40% of the bones in her face.  No upper jaw, no cheekbones, no eye sockets.  Initially I was horrified at what I saw, but as I continued to watch I realized that this little Juliana was a perfectly normal little girl.  Even though she couldn't talk, there was no mistaking her communication.  And she was silly and funny and cranky and everything a typical two year old should be.  I watched as her family saw her wheeled away for surgery after surgery.   God knows I am cynical and sarcastic, but I was genuinely moved by this little girl and her family.  So when I was feeling so sorry for myself lastweek, I decided to write to them.  And send them a check.  Here's a copy of my letter:

Like many others, I’m sure, I saw the special on TLC about Juliana and was totally captivated by her.  My six-year-old daughter is also named Juliana, so I felt an immediate connection.  I think what touched me the most was how obvious it was that your Juliana is just a regular little girl.  Her personality shone through.  She was impish and silly and adorable.  My husband was doing some paperwork, but before long he was sitting and watching with me.  He is not a religious man, but after seeing everything your family has been through, he was moved to say, “There is a special place in heaven for those people.”

 

I feel like knowing about Juliana and your family has somehow made me more connected to the entire human race.  I feel such compassion for her and it makes me a more caring person in general.  Your story reminds me yet again of what is truly important in life.  It’s a lesson that is easy to lose sight of when the details of daily living bog me down.    I thank you for sharing Juliana’s journey with all of us.  No one who sees it could be left untouched.

 

I saw on your website that Tom had just been deployed for six months.  I pray that the time will pass quickly and you will all be reunited safely and happily. 

 

It felt right to put my own problems in perspective.  If it feels right to you, too, visit their website.  Make a donation.  Appreciate what you have. 

 

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Tiny Dancer

I've been terrible about blogging lately.  There are two main reasons for that.  For one, the end of the year activities are swamping us.  Let's see: the last lacrosse jamboree and pizza party, the end of the year t-ball picnic, the 3rd and 4th grade Extravaganza (complete with student display boards, singing, and skits), the Kindergarten puppet show and singing program, a ballet recital and two classroom end of year parties. 

Secondly, our house is officially on the market.  Which means that I'm spending as much time away from home as I can.  When I'm home, I wander around twitching over things I should be cleaning.  I survey the house with a critical eye convinced that no one will ever buy it.  I live in fear that the phone will ring and we'll have to pick up and clear out for a showing.  Or worse, that it won't ring.  I can only relax when I'm out of the house.  Seeing as I don't have a laptop, that doesn't make for many good blogging opportunities. 

But enough of my excuses.  On to the main event!  Juliana's ballet recital was last night.  She's been dancing with the same teacher for three years, but this year is the first time her class was a part of the spring recital.  It was a Big Deal with costumes and make-up and a real theater.  I was skeptical at first; in fact I was downright mutinous when I saw all the preparation it would involve.  But some of the parents who had been through it before talked me down and I decided to roll with it all and see what happened.  It turns out that the final product was well worth the headaches involved.  It was amazing to see the older dancers and what they had accomplished and then to see the little girls in Juliana's class and understand where it all starts.  Juliana's class did a Snow Faerie dance.  My video camera died and we couldn't take flash photos during the show, but we got some of her in her costume afterwards.

I know I'm biased, but could she be cuter??  With those two front teeth missing?  Somehow, the backstage hair and makeup moms managed to get her chin length bob back into a "ballerina bun".  I have no idea how, except that later that night, I extracted no fewer than 15 bobby pins from her hair.  Plus two pony tail holders.  And a hair net.  And so much Aqua Net that her very own ozone hole followed her like a guardian angel.   

Sunday, June 4, 2006

It's Hard To Type In Splints

Somebody remind why I'm doing this, 'kay?  I always compare moving to childbirth.  It's all so thrilling beforehand.  The excitement...the anticipation....Then you experience it, and you swear it off forever.  But as time goes by, your psyche blots out the misery and your memory becomes sanitized and you think: That wasn't so bad.  I could TOTALLY do that again! 

The worst part about this move is that it is completely 100% voluntary.  I have done this to myself.  Right now I hope to have our house on the market by mid-week.  I am making myself nuts trying to get it ready.  In the past two weeks, I've completely decluttered my house which involved renting a storage unit and making daily trips to Goodwill.  I'm a pretty decent housekeeper in general, but getting a house "show ready" is a whole different ball game.  Despite all our moves, this is only the second house we've owned, so I've only been through this once before.  At least my kids aren't 5 and 2 like they were last time.  But last time, I cleaned my house within an inch of it's life and we headed out of town for Passover. The house sold while we were gone. 

This time, the kids are 4 years older and so am I.  The only one traveling is Ritu who went to a conference in Nova Scotia and left me to obsess over the state of the house.  (I never did re-write my cleaning product post but let me extol the virtues of Mr. Clean Magic Erasers.  In this case, I do believe "Magic" is a factual term.  Harry Potter himself couldn't get my surfaces cleaner.  One afternoon I went around and took all the marks off my painted walls, including some baseboards where other paint had splattered.   How the hell can that Magic Eraser take paint off of paint without harming the original paint?  How does it know which paint you want to keep?  Magic, I tell you!  Today my mom (bless her heart) came over and we went through 4 Magic Erasers on the downstairs alone.  I need to see if Costco sells multi-packs of them.  I need to buy stock in them.  I need to be their official spokesperson.  I am so hot for Mr. Clean right now.)

ANYhow, whenever I'm home, my blood pressure rises about 50 points.  All I see is what needs to be done.  On the one hand, I think every square inch of the house needs to be perfect.  On the other hand, I think that if you can't see past a dusty window track then YOU ARE MISSING THE BIG PICTURE AND BY GOD I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO LIVE NEXT DOOR TO YOUR HYPERCRITICAL ASS FOREVER ANYHOW.  It doesn't help that I've developed some sort of carpal tunnel/tendonitis/shoulder tumor that leaves me in constant pain and wrist splints.  If only I had prehensile toes, I could get a lot more done.

With Ritu gone, I've had to do all sorts of things that he would normally do.  Like go to Lowe's.  (I don't want to say that our family is susceptible to advertising, but when I pulled into the Lowe's parking lot, Juliana said, "Why don't you go to Home Depot?  You can do it.  They can help.")  Or fill out online forms to get our house listed.  I consider myself fairly intelligent, but there is some information that simply never sticks in my brain.  Which is why I had to call Ritu in Canada to ask if our water heater was gas and what kind of furnace we have.  (For the record, it is gas and we have forced air heating.)  I nearly had to ask him which county we live in, but was able to find that on some paperwork. (And yes, I am quite aware of how pathetic that sounds.)

Oh, and in Klutz Watch 2006, on Friday I was standing next to the van with the door open.  I leaned in to put something on the passenger seat and whacked  my head on the door frame.  To complete that special moment, I had my sunglasses up on top of my head.  The impact ground them down into my skull so far that  I think it may have left a dent.  Is it any wonder I can't remember what county I'm in?