Category: Uncategorized

You may send poetry to the rich; to poor men give substantial presents.
— Marcus Aurelius

It’s almost my birthday and I’m getting a fat tax refund check this year. No, I’m not blowing it all; in fact, nearly all of it is going to pay off my credit card. But I am saving about $200, give or take, to buy myself something nice. So far, I have narrowed it down to three things:

1. Food Saver (for a persuasive argument on why I need one, see here)

2. digital camera (I may be the only person in the world without one, and until now, I haven’t really wanted one, but blogging is more fun when there are pictures, I think)

3. scanner (this is the one I’m least familiar with – I really just want to scan old photos so I can save them on my computer, but space-wise, it might make sense to replace my old ink jet printer with a scanner/printer, but I don’t know what any of the technical terms mean, so it’s hard to know if I have my eye on the right thing)

So, thoughts? Brand suggestions? Things to beware of or look for specifically? Any other ideas? All advice is appreciated!

To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other’s hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.
— Clara Ortega

Today is Nate’s birthday, so I thought I’d tell you a little bit about him. He is two years and twelve days older than I am, and so as far back as I can remember, he’s been part of my memories. Early on, we had what can politely be described as a shitty childhood. Details aren’t necessary, I don’t think, but I will say that, being older, he got the worst of it, and to this day it makes me cry to think of it.

When our dad got us out of that situation, we were (I think – Nate would know better) 3 and 5, and we had to be separated for a while, because my dad couldn’t take care of us both while he finished college. Just after I turned five, and my dad met the woman who is now my mom, we finally got to be together again, and we stayed that way until we went our separate ways after college 16 or so years later.

We did not always get along growing up, and the number of times one of us got in trouble for something the other did are too numerous to count, as are the number of times we combined our powers to make extra-mischievous mischief. But even more numerous are the times I’ve seen him stand up for me, take care of me, do something nice for me, or just be there for me.

• He never acted like he didn’t know me in the hallway in high school, despite his being much more popular than I was and the embarrassment I must have caused him with my constant, unrequited crushes on his friends.

• He bought me beer when I was underage.

• Once, when I was learning to drive stick and he already knew how, mom gave me the keys when Nate and I were going to the movies. I knew he was pissed and that he’s prone to mumbling under his breath, and so before I pulled out of the driveway I said, “I would appreciate it if you’d talk to me nicely when I do something wrong,” and he did, and I learned to drive stick.

• When I lost my hearing, he was the first frantic phone call I made that morning – even though he was in North Carolina.

• When I got my wisdom teeth out, I was disoriented coming out of the anesthesia. They put me in a recovery room with a sign over the door that said, “How did I get in here?” which made me cry because I didn’t know how I got in there. Nate was in the room when I told the surgeon why I was crying, and when the surgeon laughed at me, Nate yelled at him.

• Before the Princess (my niece) was born, he made sure they bought a baby monitor that lit up when there was noise, so that I would always be able to baby-sit without worrying I wouldn’t know when she needed me.

In my family, I sometimes get a lot of attention because of my hearing loss and because I went to law school and passed the bar, and blah blah blah. I think he is often overlooked, and that makes me sad. He’s been married to an amazing woman for five years and they are the parents of the two funniest, most beautiful kids I know, the Princess and the Conductor, who are three-and-a-half and two, respectively, and who I adore beyond all reason.

I look at the four of them and I feel such gladness that he found such happiness. He is an excellent dad and a very devoted husband, and there are times I’d trade everything I have accomplished for what he and the missus have together.

He’s struggling right now, but I hope he knows that it won’t always be like this, and that the things he does have are priceless. Happy birthday, Bubba. I love you.

(If this post had a soundtrack, it would be this song.)

If two hitherto rival football teams, under the influence of brotherly love, decided to co-operate in placing the football first beyond one goal and then beyond the other, no one’s happiness would be increased.
— Bertrand Russell

Three posts in three days? What is going on here? Don’t get used to this. I just had to post today in case I’m right: Giants 27, Patriots 20. I’ll pause while you laugh.

I love an underdog, and the world will never hear the end of it from sanctimonious Pats fans (not you, of course, Julie) if they take the whole thing, and I really, really don’t like Bill Belichick. Or cheaters. But that is neither here nor there, is it?

Plus, Peyton Manning is going to marry me just as soon as he’s done being married to his wife, and it would surely make for some awkward Thanksgiving dinners down the line if it comes out that I didn’t root for my soon-to-be brother-in-law.

I just made a batch of this, and it is really good, so I thought I’d pass it along if you still need another snack for this afternoon’s parties:

Homemade Salsa (about 3 cups)

1 1/2 pounds tomatoes (about 4 medium), chopped
1/4 c. loosely packed, fresh cilantro, chopped
1/4 c. red onion, finely chopped
1 T. lime juice
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a medium bowl until well mixed. Cover and refrigerate up to two hours if not serving immediately.

Per 1/4 c.: 15 cal., 0g fat, 1g protein, 1g fiber, 0mg cholesterol

Enjoy! Go Giants!

Edited to add:

Holy bananas! That was, hands down, the best Super Bowl game I’ve ever seen. It took everything the Giants had to hang with the Patriots, but in the end, they pulled it off! Unfreakingbelievable! When Eli escaped from that sack and Tyree came down with the ball, I knew it was truly possible. That was amazing!

My favorite part now is watching all the commentators – who, this morning, were speaking in terms of “when” the Patriots win the Super Bowl – scramble to explain how this could have happened.  It’s easy: they don’t say “any given Sunday” for nothing.  And when no one expects you to win, you’ve got nothing to lose.

Congratulations to the Giants!

Running is an unnatural act, except from enemies and to the bathroom.
— Unknown

I actually had my own version of that quote long before I ever knew someone had really said it: The only reason to run is if someone’s chasing you or you have to pee. I held onto that mantra for a long time, but the idea of running really appeals to me. I work out pretty regularly, and when I’m on my walks outside, I often will start jogging for a while and try to alternate throughout my walk, and it makes me feel strong. The most I’ve ever jogged at a clip is 15 minutes, but that was all downhill, so I don’t think it counts.

But, as part of my recommitment to Weight Watchers and my health in general, I’ve decided to become a “runner.” This may end up being one of my grand plans that starts out well and ends badly, but that’s part of why I’m putting it out here – I’m less likely to slack off if there’s a possibility that other people will find out about it.

I’d been hearing about the Couch to 5K program over at Cool Running, so I checked it out. I think it’s a very doable program – three workouts a week for 9 weeks, gradually increasing the time/distance spent running until you can run a 5K in about 30 minutes. I have to say, I’m skeptical that my short self can run a 10-minute mile – that’s a 6 mph pace, and my legs are simply not that long (I start running on the treadmill at just above 4 mph). But I’m not really in it for speed, at least not yet; I just want to be able to run continuously for 30+ minutes.

Because it’s only a 30-minute workout on each of the three days a week, and I need more cardio than that to get rid of these last 35-40 pounds, I plan to still do my usual elliptical and weight work on the off days, and maybe a bit after on the running days. I think running will be such a different workout than I am used to, and I’m hopeful that it will do good things for my body, in more ways than one.

In addition to checking out Cool Running and reading all their tips on getting started, I realized I needed some new sneakers. Usually I’d just go get the cutest pair of New Balance and be done with it, but I decided that if I am serious about this, I need to be prepared. So I went to Pacers in Old Town this afternoon, which is a running store (side note: I’d never been to Old Town before, and it reminded me of Boston; of course, I’ve only been to Boston once, so I could be way off base). I made sure to do a full workout this morning and then run errands so that my feet were not fresh-out-of-bed (you’re not supposed to buy shoes in the morning) (oh, and I showered before I went there, of course – I feel bad for shoe salespeople, because, seriously – feet?).

The lovely Denise listened carefully as I expressed my newfound desire to become a real runner and my longtime loyalty to New Balance, then had me take off my sneakers. She took one look at them and said, “Those are probably not right for you.” Which I knew, because they’re not running shoes, plus they’re a year old, but I felt bad for my purple shoes anyway. She was sure I needed a 9 1/2 instead of my usual 9, because your feet swell when you run, apparently. I gave in, because she’s the expert – she said as long as your heel is snug and doesn’t move in the shoe, you’re good to go. So I put on the 9 1/2, and then came my least favorite part (which I knew was coming, but still): she took me outside and had me run half a block so she could see how they fit. We did that with two pairs of NB, and she wasn’t convinced they were right for me.

I told her I trusted her and if she thought there was another brand that would be a better fit, I was open to it. So she brought a pair of Saucony and one of another brand I didn’t recognize. I tried them both and demo’d my run for her. She said either of them were better than the NB, so it was up to me. The unrecognizable pair were trimmed in purple (!) but in the end, the Saucony won out for comfort and styling (the purple ones looked like bricks on my feet). She also talked me into some fancy running socks, so we’ll see how that works out.

So now I’m officially invested in this running thing. I really want to do it; I never thought I’d want to be a runner, but I think I do. It just seems so freeing, you know? I just have this idea that it’s you and the road (and your iPod) and you can go wherever it takes you for as long as you want. I am committed to the 9-week Couch to 5K program. If I hate it after that, I can stop, but I need to do that much to see if it’s right for me, I think.

I’m starting Monday. I know some of you are runners; any advice for me?

In spite of my great desire for intimacy, I’ve always been a loner. Perhaps when the longing for connection is as strong as it is in me, when the desire is for something so deep and true, one knows better than to try. One sees that this is not the place for that.
— from Never Change, by Elizabeth Berg

I can’t write when I’m sad. Not here, anyway. I always want to, but then I realize I’m confusing my blog with my journal, and I think this shouldn’t be the first place I dump all the craziness. Part of me thinks I should get it out first, then edit it before it gets here. But doing that also feels inauthentic to me, like I’m holding something back from you guys, so you get posts like Memory Lane, Part 2. And then . . . I feel weird having shared so much, especially when it’s stuff that could change people’s opinions of me, or things that make me feel bad about myself so I assume you’ll think poorly of me, too. I guess what I’m saying is, it’s a fine line, and I haven’t yet perfected the walk.

I promise that you really do not want the details on what set me off this time. Your eye sockets could not take all the eyerolling that would ensue if I told you about my astounding ability to take one small thing (or even several small things) and blow up its significance to gargantuan proportions. Suffice it to say that, as usual, I was wrong about a boy. Maybe I won’t always be wrong about him, but for the moment, I am. My real problem is that I live in my head, where things happen the way they do in movies, instead of in the real world where men, no matter how much they like you when they meet you, sometimes already have girlfriends (or wives, apparently) to whom they are (and should be) faithful.

I don’t know anyone else who, when she hears “I have a girlfriend” from someone she feels connected to, also hears “And I want you to win me away from her,” who understands it as a challenge. That is not normal, it’s not fair to him, and it’s wildly unhealthy for me. Years ago, a friend of mine had an affair with a guy who was engaged, and I clearly remember asking her, “Why don’t you think you deserve a guy who only wants to be with you?” And yet, here I am: Karen asked me the same thing today.

I think the answer isn’t that I don’t believe I deserve it, it’s that this way is safer. This way, I don’t actually have to put myself on the line like I would if he was single and possibly interested. I don’t have to do any of the real, hard work that’s part of a relationship, I just have to be charming and pretty and funny for a couple hours at a time. And I get to be all of that in a totally non-threatening environment because I know he’s unavailable.

It’s never worked, of course, and I eventually get over the crush and am able to be just friends with the guy, which is great. But, I wish I could stop having to go through all of this crap to get to that point. I know someone out there is saying, “So just stop doing it,” but I don’t think it’s that simple for me. I must get something out of it, otherwise I wouldn’t do it, but I can’t figure out what it is. Maybe it’s a safe fantasy of a relationship, like playing house, or maybe it’s how good it feels to see him respond – because he does (everyone flirts, and everyone likes to be paid attention to), even if he doesn’t act on it.

Or maybe it’s just temporary balm for the deep loneliness that took up residence inside me a long time ago, and which now feels so huge that I think maybe nothing can ever fill it, so there’s no sense trying with someone who, although he might like me back and be available, will probably not have the fortitude to love someone as fundamentally flawed and needy and mad as I am.