My Saturday

I have to spend a lot of time with King Alex Warra. He's been neglected by all my travel of late. He must miss me too, because he's let me hold him for longer than two minutes at a time.



The benefits of living in a 100 year old house- a huge claw foot bathtub. H-e-a-v-e-n.



The perfect companion, in and out of the bathtub.

Meri

I’m a girl. Female. Woman. Sister. Daughter. Granddaughter. Niece. Aunt.

There are some good things about being a woman. As a woman it’s okay to adore other people’s babies, I can openly admit to taking an hour long bubble bath, it’s socially acceptable to wear skirts with a ruffle at the hemline. And I am a feminist.

But.

That red tent thing? Sometimes it seems like a good idea. There are a few days every 33-36 days that I am exhausted, cranky, have abdominal pain, prone to sadness, irritable, exhausted, need refined carbohydrates and sugar. There may be times during these certain days that I am irrational and exhausted. Have I mentioned the exhaustion? I’m currently at a conference in a big college town in middle America where it is 110 degrees today. I did my delegated duties in the morning and then snuck off for a two hour afternoon siesta. And I’m still exhausted.

Soldier on, girlfriend, soldier on.

Reading

When you're six hours away from your family and best friends and your engagement is laying in ruins, I recommend reading. Here's what I've read in the past two weeks:



I didn't think I liked suspenseful/crime drama/mystery books. This one was surprisingly good, and I am going to check out more books by this author. The story moves quickly, the author knows a lot about the legal system and the characters were well developed.



Uh. I couldn't sleep, it was the middle of the night, so this was the perfect light read. I didn't have to think too hard, but the book kept my mind off of other things.



The story was engrossing in the beginning, and then in the middle was a 'jump the shark' part where the teenage daughter is kidnapped and held captive. So much more could have been developed with the story line, but it just kind of sags in the middle and doesn't really go back up.



A collection of short stories focused on service men deployed and their families left behind. Good development of stories, and some really left me wanting to know more about what happened. The book is like a quick peak into military family lives.

These are the books on my list to be read next:



Push (which the movie Precious was based on) was a book I stayed up through the night to read, and left me haunted. I'm not sure I can handle the sequel to Push right now. It's a library book, so I've got 21 days left to work up the courage.

And then this book was recommended on NPR. And my motto is "if it's on NPR, it's worth reading."

Holy Misgivings

A dear friend of mine is getting married today. There was to be a wedding last weekend, but on Tuesday of the Friday affair the groom-to-be called it off. In a roundabout way he said he didn’t want to marry her. Or was it that he didn’t want to marry her in front of her friends and family? Or was it that he wasn’t sure where God was at in their relationship? So, out of the blue today, I got a text message about the impeding courthouse nuptials:

Her: Today’s the big day, wish me luck!
Me: Good luck!
Me: And I have to ask this: Are you sure?
Her: I’m sure I love him.
Me: I’ve never doubted that you love him.

And the thing is, I’m sad for her. I know this is a huge mistake and I know that she knows it’s a mistake. There are a myriad of reasons for her to not to marry this man, but love, infatuation, insecurity are all blind.

I Statements

I started this blog to document my relationship with K and the time apart. Then I lost interest, got lazy, didn’t know what to write about. What is the cure for this kind of writer’s block? A job you are growing to dislike more everyday and a manager that has no ethical boundaries. Today’s post is going to be a bit detail oriented and brought to you by the letter “I” as in I-Statements.

I first heard of I statements back in high school, in home economics class. Since then, they have followed me throughout different positions and through professional development courses and graduate school. I thought I’d combine some I statements with how I’m really feeling right now.

I feel annoyed when you call me at 1:38 a.m. in response to my message at 9 p.m. to tell me you are going to get pizza with your friend-that’s-screwing-a-lesbian-while-his-baby-mama-is-away-on-business friend.

I don’t like you very much when I think about all the shit I put up with and you can’t even send a mofu ‘love letter’. Not one in 393 days. You suck. For clarification, “you suck” is not an I statement, but a “true feeling.”

I feel cheated when you spend time and energy and resources on that stupid mofu van. It’s a damn van that you can’t even use now. Good thing you dropped enough money to cover roundtrip airfare on the piece of shit.

I feel insulted when I ask you a question and you refuse to answer it, or tell me ‘it’s a stupid question.’ If I answer your b.s. questions, you can answer mine, Sherlock.

I feel disappointed when birthdays, anniversaries, special occasions roll around. You don’t even try to make these occasions easier to bear apart, or make them in any way special.

I feel sad that I’ve pointed out to you something that I wanted for a long time and you do nothing to make it happen.

Chinese Medicine.

It is hot in the Midwest right now. Yesterday, it was 98 degrees and my third floor attic apartment was only 10 degrees cooler according to the thermometer. I came home with all intentions of making dinner, doing some paperwork, reading, laundry and bed. But there is something about that draining heat and humidity combination that makes me unable to even put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

So, what’s a gal to do in that sweltering heat?

Take a cool, relaxing bubble bath for two hours. Yes, a two hour bubble bath. Should I be ashamed to write on the internet that I engage in two hour bathing sessions? Well, I never thought I’d have a real shot at politics anyway. I took my cell phone and my Nook and use Johnson & Johnson Calming Baby Bubble Bath and camp out in the bathtub for two hours. Alex Warra slept on the rug by the claw foot tub, I played some Mumford & Sons on the Ipod, and finished reading Harlan Coben’s newest novel, all while in the luxuriously cool, lavender infused bath water.

And then my dad called. We chatted for a minute and he once again reminded me not to “get married to a fool” and then asked me if I’d give him my Volvo. I don’t have a Volvo to give him, and at that point, I figured the conversation had left Lucid Ville. And then, he surprised me by saying “And make sure you stay out of the heat, you know how the sun and heat makes you so sick.”

By saying that, my father, who ninety per cent of the time lives in his own world, had remembered something that surely hadn’t been brought to his attention in over twenty years. As a child, and even now, as an adult, the heat has a way of making me faint, experience vertigo and bring on stomach aches. When I was little, I would ignore the signs and insist on playing out all day with my brother and his friends, the results would always be severe sun burn and heat exhaustion. I religiously put on the highest SPF sun block I can find, but I have a pink tinge to my skin all year around.

Several years ago (during the SARS epidemic, but that’s another story), a friend of mine from Hong Kong and I went to Toronto for spring break. We had a great time, and one of the things we did is go to China Town. Hilary wanted to get a Hong Kong style facial and I declined, instead using the time to look around the Chinese mall.



When I came back to the salon area, a Chinese woman said something to Hilary, who translated to me that the woman was offering me a “consultation” and it would only cost a few Canadian dollars. Me, who my mom claims will try anything once, agreed, and sat in her chair as Hilary explained the woman was a Chinese traditional medicine doctor and she pulled out a magnifying mirror and some herbs and oils. After a few minutes of examining my skin, the woman explained in English that I was allergic to the sun and to take great care to avoid sun exposure. And then she tried to sell me something, which I declined and off Hilary and I went.



After years of getting sick in the sun and having constant sunburns, I think the Chinese Medicine Woman was right. When I’m in the heat, I feel different- it becomes harder for me to think (and let’s be honest, I’m not a quick wit to start) and it’s like a muddledness or confusion comes over me, and my energy is zapped and I feel like I’m moving through molasses (but I also feel this way after one too many mojitos) and all I want to do is lay down.

Today is another scorcher in the Midwest; it was already 90 by 11am. Guess what is on the agenda for tonight?

Saturday Mornings

I've always loved Saturday mornings. When I was little, Saturday mornings were about Saturday Morning Cartoons, rough housing with my brothers, my mom and dad making breakfast and then spending the day outside playing. In high school Saturday mornings were about catching up on glorious sleep, waking up and spending a few hours in bed with a book. College Saturday mornings were about sleeping off the night before or working. In graduate school, leisurely Saturday mornings were few and far between, but they'd involve breakfast with roommates, trips to the farmers market, running to the library.

And then there's Now Saturday Mornings. And even Now Saturday Mornings get divided into With-K and Without-K. With-K Saturday Mornings were amazing (of course!). We'd lay in bed, do errands, go to the zoo, the parks, the botanical gardens, farmers market, ride bikes, just do fun things. Without-K Saturday Mornings are b-o-r-i-n-g. Boring. I try to be peppy and make plans for brunch with friends or do errands, something to distract me about the fact that it is Saturday morning and K's not here. One thing K and I would do on some Saturday mornings is go to Forest Park and watch the wedding party pictures. K does not like doing it, but would grudgingly sit with me for a bit before moving on, and after an argument about watching the pictures take place, I remember thinking "fine, when he's gone, I'll come by myself and sit here the entire morning and watch."

I can't. I don't know why, but the things that we did together, I avoid as much as possible. I avoid the Botanical Gardens, that I l-o-v-e and spent a lot of time there before I was with K. The restaurants K and I frequented, I forget they exist, instead preferring to try new ones that are not associated with K. I think the reason I avoid these things is because they're a painful reminder that K is not here. And while I can hear my mom saying to me, "Oh, but be happy with the memories you have there and that you had a chance to make those memories," the truth is, the memories are hurtful of what I don't have right now.

So, it's Saturday morning. I was prepped to go to the Botanical Gardens, but then decided against it. Maybe I won't get up the nerve to go to the Botanical Gardens or Art Museum today, but I promise myself I will get out of the yoga pants and do something.