| (no subject) |
[Aug. 25th, 2007|04:23 pm] |
me, sans chapeau, silvery dress, only seen from the back, behind girl in hat w/not nearly enough clothing.
Ah, well |
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| vacation, or what passes for it |
[Jun. 12th, 2007|12:18 pm] |
I'm off from work this week, and have been reading books, lying by the pool, and putting up with screeching kids outside, as well as an old-enough-to-know-better guy who races around the grounds with his kid, both armed with enormous squirtguns, machine-gun-style, yelling "Go!Go! Go!" for hours on end. Makes me want to string tripwires in the grass.
Actually I spent Monday cleaning, shopping, etc., as well. Fun, fun.
Visited Mom twice. They moved her back into the Alzheimer's wing. First day she was lively and talkative. The next time she was hard to rouse for dinner, and yelled at me. Picked up a couple of things for her to wear, since quite a bit seems to have been lost in the move between floors, unless it's all being re-labeled with the new location.
As a Sopranos watcher, I'm annoyed. Lousy ending, or lack thereof. I can't believe they spent so much time on those two boring offspring, and left out any contemplation by Dr. Melfi. Not so worried about the lack of ending, there really ARE only two possibilities. Tony either waits to be arrested, which he clearly doesn't want to do, or he takes off, having the money in his numbered account to take him anywhere. That dinner is definitely his last with the family, and the time with the boring kids is his last with them. That scene was for him, not for us. They're all settled down, and Carm has her project to work on--he's completely free to go. No doubt fake id and passport are ready to go.
Book recommendation: Infidel, by Ayan Hirsa Ali. More than a recommendation, a MUST READ. Great not just for her personal history, and for her feelings on her (past) religion, but for her example on how to enter a new culture, adapt, and do well. Put this woman in charge of showing people how to succeed in a new environment!!
Minor problem with husband: he still has this port installed in his chest, left from old chemo treatment, and it needs to be "flushed" monthly. The last time they did this it BROKE inside, and it needs to come out. Be have to wait for an appointment to consult with the surgeon who installed it, and then who knows how long before he can do the surgery. Hopefully, outpatient, although maybe not. ($75 copay for outpatient, $500 for inpatient, gasp!!) They may want to check for further damage, like other blockages...
I still feel like writing personal past stuff, but not just now. Another relevant date, a birthday, approaching. A very high number, though, higher than my own, and that surely should negate the rest? Yet memory is stronger occasionally than common sense. Maybe a private post for that.
Also, my mom will be 92 in July. |
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| don't wait--just take the damn picture! |
[Apr. 6th, 2007|04:43 pm] |
can't believe they printed that picture
never should have worn that hat
but in all the years attending I never had
and thought it would be fun
at least he looked happy and healthy
a far cry from a few years ago
should have at least taken off the glasses
or worn the yellow dress instead |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 5th, 2007|04:31 pm] |
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New Mets lineup great--who's that new kid pitching, he's amazing! double plays galore, as well. Knew they'd pull it together. |
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| Baseball!! |
[Mar. 1st, 2007|08:49 am] |
Watched the Mets Spring Training opener on TV, and seemed to see a familiar bony forehead in the stands visible just behind the home plate umpire. Familiar mannerisms, but a thickened jaw and cheeks, missing the hollows that made him cute. Yeah, lots of that going around!
Fun to see these happy players running around in the sun, clearly having a great time. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 16th, 2007|04:15 pm] |
intersections like tunnels
newcomers taking pictures of each other lying in the snow
digging out vehicles, scooping snow from under wheels
two days later amazed at the ones still buried, invisible
gunning past the backhoe that changes direction suddenly
like a stampeding dinosaur |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 1st, 2007|04:52 pm] |
Here I struggle with the ice
you probably in shade and a/c
Winter means outside for me
more than perpetual summer does for you
at least right now
Despite the sun and palms
I imagine you glued to the tube
or hunched over your computer
tracking ebay sales
trading buying selling
Cataloging assessing hawking
carefully categorizing
painstakingly shipping
admiring acquisitions:
collection development
In my library world all those things
have a quite different context
We were so different, yet oddly the same |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 1st, 2007|04:45 pm] |
While I have no real plans to go south, and while I don't take his "planning" seriously, I checked out the website for a college in the town he talks about. They have a library assistant opening, 24,000--30,000. But the deadline to apply was today.
I should wait until tomorrow and tell him. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 20th, 2007|09:05 pm] |
Heavy dreams, crushing weight,
swirls of the past mixed with the present.
A place similar to one I worked in, new machinery to allow people to do their own transactions, but once installed, it became an empty space, only the dated wallpaper remained. Nothing to transact, no people, just two gleaming counters unused, useless.
A man who seemed familiar, but not. Cryptic comments, evasive answers, strange surroundings, and a hill that was one thing, then suddenly another. Cynicism, trickery? The heavy weight of his head against my chest, desperation on my part, still no answer. Strong feelings, but without context. Desire without identity.
A glimpse of meaning, memory, then gone. Only the heaviness remains, waking unable to breathe. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 20th, 2007|08:57 pm] |
he talks about going south
sun, warmth; but bugs, snakes
and gators and another deadly
suburb?
why go so far to have life so much the same?
find me a fun city; mass transit,
music, plays, ideas, perhaps some
secular humanism? |
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| surge in stupidity |
[Jan. 7th, 2007|07:31 pm] |
surge, indeed, annoucing numbers and plans in advance
the reason we're in this mess is, you announced all your
plans in advance, giving the enemy time to hide, to abscond, to plan
you heard it here first: they'll watch for arrivals, shoot them down
as they come in
stupid stupid man |
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| hiding out |
[Jan. 6th, 2007|07:52 pm] |
He's trying to be friendly, but I don't buy it. He pretends to be concerned about my extra effort lately, about my situation with mom, about my walking to work, and home in the dark. I don't buy that either. I don't want to trust, I don't want to get my hopes up. I just want to live my own life, forget about how things used to be, how things often are, and the discrepancy between the two. No! No! No!
I would like something new, not a repeat of past patterns. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jan. 2nd, 2007|09:45 pm] |
frail but feisty
is your brother waiting
i never believed in that
but here you are facing surgery
nurse doubts you'd survive anesthesia
you're furious i'm sure
impatient to be gone
when i get there it'll be my fault
all i can do is hope
it doesn't hurt too much |
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| rough draft |
[Dec. 28th, 2006|04:45 pm] |
catch my eye
raise a brow
quizzical look
smart remark
remember when?
your remarks were the kind boys shared
not the kind you told girls in those days
cute but improper
annoying, but today i'd probably outdo you
shock you at least keep up
if we'd met later we'd have had fun
i became more like you
suspect you went the opposite direction
still incompatible after all these years? |
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| mom christmas eve 2006 |
[Dec. 25th, 2006|08:21 pm] |
tiny in her reclining wheelchair, frail and confused from blindness,
nevertheless finds the strength to spider-walk down to the footrest and
fall
warn her and she insists, restrain and she rails
she'll tell about visits and conversations unlikely, but sound confident and
proud
then frustrated and exhausted at words that won't come
anger at not understanding me, why won't i take her to a home that is no
longer there
reports her brother is in the next bed, though he's dead twenty years
says he's promised to arrange for her to go home with him
who am i to say he hasn't promised her something?
i wish i could lie and promise, as well |
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| changes! |
[Dec. 19th, 2006|06:16 pm] |
When I visited my mom this last time I found her alert, sitting up straight, feeding herself, and talking a blue streak, and making sense.
No change in medication or treatment. Sometimes it comes, and goes, they say.
Cracking jokes, no less. |
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| endearments |
[Dec. 14th, 2006|01:33 pm] |
endearments: I was never very comfortable with them. You wanted to say "dearest" and I thought it sounded like an old lady. Others were too goofy, half-offensive, embarrassing. My husband called me a nickname based on a variety of large bird for a good 15 years, until I told him to either say my name or not talk to me at all.
I didn't get comfortable with such things until my son was born, and a flood of them came out of my mouth. Now, I'd probably be able to do that, when did that happen?
My dear, my love, my sweet...yeah, I could do that...for someone. Could have then, if I'd trusted it to last, which it didn't.
Try it out...Naw.
For me, at that time, the name encompassed all that, I felt so strongly. Saying Glenn MEANT all that to me.
I didn't put my real self out there for a long time, I don't know why. I must have been trying to be appropriate, correct, whatever was expected. Inside I wasn't like that at all--I'm eccentric, cynical often, sarcastic, contrary, even shocking. Even before anyone else knew it, I was all those things. I was seen as a "good girl," but when people say that they think you really have no choice. I wasn't particularly good, and I did have a choice. I was in fact good at attacking, shocking, amazing someone.
I have no idea whether some people would have liked the real me had they met her, or not. Probably not, I can't say that most people like me all that much now. I'll go out of my way for some people, others can fend for themselves.
The strain of trying NOT to be me took a toll, certainly. The times I broke through I seemed selfish, I'm sure. It was very uncomfortable.
Most people probably go through all that at 13 or so.
Late bloomer, very much so. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 12th, 2006|11:06 pm] |
I hate the words, I don't like the words, no, I liked the words, but I hate the words. Oh, that's wonderful. Yes, thank you, bye. Bye. Oh, I hate the words...
Every conversation with mom is punctuated by the above, repeated over and over, with increasing intensity and distress.
It is the word. It's the word of the words, no, I am the words, I am the word, of the words. I hate the words.
It seems to be about not being able to think of the words to say, she's losing more of them all the time, but I think it's also about loss of sight, having lost the ability to read, which she always loved. She used to listen to audio books, but even concentrating on that is difficult now. She refused to have the radio or tv on, even, this last visit, and usually she prefers background noise. Mom was a NY Times Magazine crossword devotee--every Sunday she had it done in a couple of hours. She did love the words. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 11th, 2006|09:59 pm] |
hated the idle hour; venomous apple wine coolers
fitting that there a happy year turned poisonous
if you'd said those things where I might have told all but no
in full view of that idle crowd all I could do was bolt
when you took it back I was too proud to accept
and we never did talk about friday
what about friday |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 10th, 2006|12:11 am] |
Two exhausting weeks preparing for the grand opening! The library looks beautiful, but it's so awful to go back and see how grungy the old one looks.
I went in to set up my voice mail while there wasn't a crowd, tech people still slaving away to get all the computers up and ready. Two girls pulled up and wanted in--all they wanted was job applications. "Did you work at the old library," they asked. It's the SAME LIBRARY. Just a new building. (Bangs head on desk)
People have been slipping in and returning books, trying to get a look, every time the front door is unguarded.
Monday morning all hell will break loose, no doubt. It's been really weird being closed, and not having all the regulars who come in all the time.
Mr. Gray Raincoat will probably show up, and Nick, as well. I made a point of telling the latter about the closed period, when we open, and where it is! He really seemed not to have noticed it was impending. He tends to freak out if he doesn't have everything exactly right, so I wanted to particularly warn him. Also, I wanted him to feel welcome, he's been coming in almost as long as I've worked there, which is a very long time. Twenty-one years in January.
My feet and ankles and legs are killing me, probably from the walking to and from work. I have to not go at my usual insane pace, I guess, it's really rough on the bones now that it's cold. We had a little snow, very little, fortunately. It's a perfectly pleasant walk, no reason to try for speed, I guess.
Most of the offices don't have decent windows--I chose my area wisely, and I not only get a view of the side and street, I get sunsets. The clouds were really beautiful yesterday as the sun made them all pink.
All the running around and up and down the stairs 30 times a day is fun, but I'm whacked at night. Still dreaming, not all that pleasantly. Lots of confused stuff about various people who don't belong in the same dream. I'm not used to such deep sleep, and waking up is like being under water and trying to breathe.
There are places and people that I still miss. Or, wish I'd explored more when I had the chance. I've been feeling very strange lately, unable to deal with some of the changes that are underway or that might come.
Work's been weird, slow times with not enough to do, crazy times pitching in to move and set up and change things around. Some people have appreciated it, others not so much. And of course, when some lovely item gets delivered or set up so we can see it we all have to rush over and admire it.
This is going to be one beautiful building:
www.cphlibrary.org |
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