Lucy's Spleen

Poor Stan. Sometimes I'm just not fun enough for Boundless Energy Guy. This is particularly true when I'm ridin' the crimson tide, as I am now. At this time of the month I think mightily and feel highly creative but I can't speak or look people in the eye. The first few days that I have my period the ideal thing for me to do is to tuck in, keep comfortable and get really, really introspective. I have tended to think of it as serendipitous that my episodic reclusion tends to coincide with the times when Stan requires strong social involvement. At home in SLC that has meant nights of reprieve for me; he could go out and blow off steam with our friends and I could stay in and do... whatever it is that I do- putter, I suppose. Unfortunately for both of us we don't really have friends here yet, so on nights like these we're kind of up in the air, not to mention all up in each other's shit.

Tonight was rough. Stan was dying to go do something, and I couldn't get him out of the house fast enough. It's hard for a guy like me, a born helpmeet and involved and compassionate partner,* to endure seeing someone you care about experiencing genuine need and to not only not be able to help them out with it but to find yourself wishing they would get out of your face already. It doesn't sit well to feel such boundless empathy but to know my hands are tied, metaphorically speaking, in virtue of having little control over my physiological state. Anyway I could control it somewhat with the use of birth control, but I choose not to because I'm a filthy hippie and find my natural cycle to be beautiful and invigorating and essential for my well-being. 

Anyway my point is that this was not an issue at home, where we were so close with our friends that we could get together with them, the two of us in our disparate states, and be just fine, and have a lovely dinner party because those are the kinds of friends we have at home- friends who KNOW us. But not here. So that's a new angle on an old thing we have to contend with. I think we're handing it pretty well so far, though. He's out now, and I'm here doing exactly what I want to be doing. Tomorrow he'll be gone all day doing smartypants school stuff, I will be home all day doing home stuff and reading, and by the time he gets home we'll have missed each other desperately.

I did it! This is the final day of NaBloPoMo.

* Eaux, vile. The urge to type "helpmeet" emerged from some deep, old and sweet understanding I have held of the concept since my religious days, but I can't hold to it because if you go and Google it, like I did, the results you'll get will be extravagantly dissimilar to the concept I intended. I also searched for "helpmeet + feminism" with no more promising results, there's too much fanaticism on both sides. This was kind of a fun literary review, however.

Day 29 (tipsy: unedited)

Look how close to being almost over this is! I was going to cop out at the end here and say that were too busy drinking beer and listening to Ween* for m to blog tonight. Thhen I was goingto give you something something better to look at rather than present any atual ideas (Stan says his ideas are "beauiful, crystalline orbs" these days, but the guy gets paid to think. Anyway you won't see any of that here, this is my blog). Now it occurs to me to also anounce that total hits to this site generated by pornographic search terms are down to a mere 1/3 or so of all the hits I get. The top two searches being: 1) something I can't actually find on the internet despite routine searches by me** and 45% of people who mistakenly wind up viewing this website daily; also B) search terms that produce this tonguey image of me hamming it up on my firt 30th birthday.

What's more I was going to write about... something. Would it have been how I am peeved at someone I work with right now? Nope, i am purt careful not to blog the job. Not that so I can't remember but lease excuseme while I fi x a nother tea toddy. That's our stylings aroung her b'wintertimes: nonstop hot beveraverages, tea mostly, sometimes brandy tea toddies or tea and whiskey. One search term that hot a lot of hits to this site in the past 24 hours was "wiskhey." "Wiskhey" is not a real thing you know, but if you image search it you will find a picture of me turning 30/27! I'll leave it to you to figure out what you'll find if you search for "hot a lot" like iI just typed right there.

What you should really know is that I am a very serious person (snort!). I hae a job where people take me seriously and all my friends live 2,000 miles from here. I try to get them (job people) to take me not quite so seriously, as I, EMily, am actually a merry, casual person! Alas, this is a very traditional firm/town. Wer're liberal politically but socially parochial.  BTW Have you heard of "Massholes?" This is the true phenomenon of native Massachusettsans who act like jerks from hell for no reason. If you come here you will find these people  all over the place; most are found behind the wheel of a car or in a position to provide customer service. Probably if my job peple read this blog entry they would take me not so seriously at all. Perhapd they would even go so far as to take me for FIRED. Fortunately I don't believe they have hearod of blogs there yet.

By the way, The other reason this is spelt to fukt is that I don't do so well on the mini laptop keboard but I'm usuing the laptop tonigt because Stan's in the other room on my PC transcribing the lyrics to Learnin' to Love.*** (The main lyric goes: DOO DOO DOOBELEP Read it and weep.)

We are a proud people, my people and me.

I'm inebreitating in NaBloPoMo. (Why is there not a queer blogging event called NaBloHomo? It could be like a big public awareness campaign or something. Hello! Free idea! Somebody take it while the getting is good!)

* In certain ways the weekend still starts on Thursday, even now that I'm old.

** This just in: the possibility exists of a thing tht cannot be found on the Inetet.***

*** Blue ribbon for Least Effective Recent Spelling of the Word "Internet"

Nature Things

• It starts to be dark here now around 4:15 in the afternoon. That strikes me as deeply unholy.

• Petite Lédiebug has evacuated her assigned spot on the plant where I placed her and I haven't been able to find her anywhere today. I think Jumbo bug must have still been kicking it on the paper lantern when I ran into it with my head tonight and caused a mighty paper disturbance which, I fear, toppled poor Jumbo to the floor. Then I may also have unwittingly stepped on him just a little. He wasn't squished flat or anything afterward but he wasn't looking to comfy either and anyway now he's dead for sure. I feel awful sorry about it.

• Planet Earth is the best series. We've been watching it on a two-week Netflix marathon and I adore it and am sorry it had to end for us this evening. I hereby vow that when I have kids I'm going to keep them on a restrictive television diet of old Warner Brothers cartoons and nature programs narrated by knighted British naturalists that make you wish you had them for an uncle.

I am STILL a participant in NaBloPoMo.

Honk, Cough, Snort

I am home from work today. I'm still sick with this yucky cold and was up all night with a croupy little-kid cough moaning and snorking and dozing and waking up stuck in a messed-up dream place not sure whether I was me in my bed or whether I was my cousin's poor asthmatic toddler at our family reunion. Finally I woke up genuinely distressed with that can't-breathe feeling and started shuffling around coughing and rasping and finally drove poor Stan to go sleep on the couch (yay that we have one!) while I did the only thing I could think of which was give myself The Treatment.

The Treatment is what my singing teacher used to when I was studying with her and living in her house in Kansas and would get a bad cold that went to my head and chest like this one has. It involves the afflicted individual having a big swipe of mentholatum rubbed on her upper lip and hot wet washcloths applied to her face and covered with layers of towels to keep the heat and moisture in. You/she, the afflicted,  must also have many blankets pulled up high and tight under your/her chin. I did my best to duplicate The Treatment last night but I didn't have any mentholatum (fine by me, I think it's the nast) and I didn't have Rachel to sit at the edge of the bed and rub my chest and talk to me for what seemed like hours under my towel tent. My washcloths weren't as warm as hers nor my efforts so soothing; the whole exercise made me miss her terribly- now I am crying about it and can't see what I'm typing. She claimed The Treatment cured her husband of the seasonal allergies he had suffered all his life and while I don't know about that I do know it relieved me enough last night that I could get back to sleep after a while and then Stan came in and held me; we slept in late like that and that was a good and different kind of comforting.

I don't know what to do with myself at home all day with no responsibilities. I have managed to utterly waste the first half of the day doing absolutely nothing but I'm not good at doing nothing with impunity, I prefer to do wedge in my time-suck activities in a way that makes it feel like I'm shirking my other duties. Also it is early in my days at work and I'm not supposed to be taking days off yet so I'm uncomfortable with staying home. I'm an odd sort of workaholic in that I tend to put in too much time but not necessarily enough organized effort. There are times when I know I could work more efficiently and not stay through lunch, but somehow I just never do it; then I find myself in a sudden flurry of productivity right at 5:30 when I ought to be heading home. Anyway I've started to really like the team of people I'm working with and I feel rather tenderly about our little codependencies and the ways they wind up needing me. I have this possessive thing that makes it tough to go a weekday with license to not worry about them. What if they need something? Like to have a document printed or a meeting added to their calendars or a flight booked somewhere? Even if they have nothing pressing come up today I still feel I should be in the office if only to keep up the routine. It just doesn't look right for me to not be there. Besides, there are projects I've been drawing out to which I could be half-attending!

I was so guilty and weirded out by staying home at first that I thought I couldn't give myself permission to do anything if I didn't go out and buy a humidifier first because by God, if I'm going to convalesce I'm going to put some effort into it! I turned on the computer with plans to figure out the nearest store that I could get to with the least effort to pick up said humidifier and that's when the distractions began. Now I am thoroughly caught up on the lives of both Jen and Erin and on what several people are saying to one another on MySpace. I could shower, but that sounds too cold even though it would be good for my lungs and sinus and our shower runs out of hot too fast anyway. I did eat breakfast just now finally. I mean to have oatmeal because I'm trying to get a lot of post-Turkey Day fiber but then I saw that we have Happy Thanksgiving Cranberry Breakfast Cake which I'm not entirely sure is really meant for breakfasts but it has cranberries and walnuts just like my oatmeal so I figured that's breakfast and cut myself a giant slice to go with my latte. Yes I know coffee is not good for colds and flu but what kind of Satanist are you that you would deny me my latte when our double-shot portafilter basket just started working again after being mysteriously irreparably clogged for the past two weeks? Anyway the coffee may just allow me to make a move and get some of our laundry done as long as I am in and that would be miraculous. Also the house could stand a little cleaning since we didn't do it over the weekend and now the fine layer of millions of Stan's tiny black hairs that typically carpet our floors have been interwoven with millions of long black hairs from Leonard and it's starting to be noticeable so I'm thinking maybe I should do something.

Incidentally, this ephalump is the humidifier of my hearts desiring:

It may be for kids but it's still better than some boring blue clinical box. Plus I like ephalumps, especially the ultrasonic ones.

(Actually, while we're at it, THIS is the true humidifier I would choose as part of my Ultimate Yuppie Lifestyle:

but it costs more than the next piece of furniture I'm going to buy so ephalumps it is, I hope. (P.S. Plus Minus Zero's space heater design is equally gorgeous if anybody cares and can afford it.))

Now you know everything about me.

P.S. I've been wanting a bird so bad but now I'm stricken with insecurity about my bird-caring qualities because I just left a dry Teflon pot burning on the stove and made our horrible shrieking smoke alarm go crazy and if we had a budgie it'd be dead by now for sure. (I hope the ladybugs are okay!)

I am a November blogging mofo.

I Really Should Get a Dog or Something

We have ladybugs.

I don't know if they are ladybugs actually (they are the orange kind), but there are two of them and I love them and I hope they are eating the drosophila* that live in our houseplants. One of the ladybugs is big-ish and one is smaller so naturally I have been maintaining a scientifically unfounded belief that the bigger one is a guy. I know I'm liable to cause a stir among feminist entomologists the world over, but "he" just seems more rugged and masculine to me somehow.

The ladybugs have been residing on the ceiling fan/light fixture combo in our kitchen, so I'm claiming it's for this reason that I have not replaced the light globe on said fixture that Stan broke a couple of months ago by running into it with his head. In truth, I have already not replaced the globe for a long time now, instead substituting a huge ridiculous paper lantern on which I now bonk my head all the time. But recently, when I would otherwise have finally replaced the glass globe, I have not done so because I love the ladybugs and want to preserve the sanctity of their indoor habitat. I've liked seeing the sweet little shadows they make from the inside of the lantern sometimes, I've liked watching their balancing act along it's ribs and the way they sometimes settle in to the curves of the brass ring of the fan-pull.

Over the past couple of days, however, the smaller, lady ladybug has gone wandering. For a while every time I entered the kitchen I did so on tiptoe and doubled over at the waist, scanning the floor for bumps or crawling and terrified of hearing a crunch underfoot. She matches the auburn laminate flooring perfectly and I would so hate to squish her by accident. Last night I scooped her up and put her on the windowsill; she was still in the exact same spot when I came home this evening, so, figuring she may be disconsolate over being separated from her mate, I tried to insinuate her back onto the paper lantern. She was not at all receptive to this proposal, preferring to scurry down my sleeve rather than face the prospect of moving back in already. 

I certainly hope this situation isn't owing to a domestic dispute. I know that in nature these types of relationships can take a gory turn and it would not sit well with me to have any member of this loving household eaten by another.

Anyway I hope they can make up so she can return to her warm little home in the ring-pull of the ceiling fan, but in the meantime I wound up settling on one of the kitchen plants as as good a place as any to install the little ladybug to keep her off the floor. The plant is infected with a mild node-plague but I figure if nothing else it's a safe place for her to cool out for a while, you know- get her ducks in a row, decide what she really wants from life- and if she manages to take the infestation down a notch while she's in there you won't see me complaining.

Thank God this project will soon be over.

* "Note sexcombs male insert"

I'm still sick but that didn't stop us from going out to our favorite spot for brunch with our pals before they head back to Wisconsin. This was sensible because what we really needed to cap off our Thanksgiving weekend was to eat more meat. I had the Cuban Reuben:

It was spectacular as usual and I was glad for the bold, spicy flavors since by doze iz zduvvy and I can't taste much right now. We wandered around East Cambridge a little bit; great because we have not explored there before and each new round improves my grasp on the local geography. Here are Tom and Stan getting their grasps:

That building with the sharp spire is on top of the Museum of Science:

Also I figured out where the other mall is; valuable information that I will try to use seldom, but wisely.

All that walking and eating and building my own Bloody Mary tuckered still-feverish me out before long and we had to get home so I could take a three-hour nap during which I dreamed about my brother for about the third or fourth time this week. Here is a picture of my bloody mary:

Here is a picture of my brother:

This has been a deliciously relaxing holiday. I needed the break from work desperately and have been so happy to have the extra-long weekend. Tomorrow I go back to my regular routine, which means at least another five days of not being able to hang around our apartment when the light is like this:

Oh well. Good luck going back to work and school, everybody. Here's to future holidays coming up very shortly!

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.

Bleh. I'm sick for sure. Better now in my throat but worse in my head: I think I may have an ear infection. I dreamed that I had a baby but forgot her on the seat of the car.

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.

Tourism Day Number Ninety Eleven

I idiotically forgot my camera but the deal was Harvard Yard and Cambridge Common, a stop for coffee at this cool north African place near campus which we abandoned after it took too long to get service, a stop for coffee at Peet's, a walk down Massachusetts Avenue at a brisk pace to keep the cold at bay. This followed by a long stop at the MIT Museum for a look at the fabulous* Arthur Ganson exhibit (check out the link and know that the video clips don't even begin to do the sculpture justice), a major grocery shopping mission to prep for a big yummy dinner the prep for which was interrupted by me being beset by fever after trying all day to hold off the cough and sore throat that were causing me to sound, per Stan, like "Yoda's grandma." Now I am definitely sick and I think poor Lenny's getting it too so she and Stan and I are snuggled in tonight watching Planet Earth episodes on the laptop. I think we are getting to be okay guides to the area and you should come visit, just please don't ask us where is the nightlife? We won't be able to take you there.

P.S. With the exception of foodstuffs and our entry to the museum I bought nothing today.

* This was a big hit- thanks for discovering it, mom!

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.

We're having big Internet connection probs at the house right now, which is doing nothing for my blog-every-day ambition. I will now type and hope I can publish that we had a Thanksgiving day straight out of the movies: huge family gathered at the grandparents; good, solid traditional eats; plenty of pie and alcohol and antics on the part of the littlest grandchild. It was all wonderful.

I am thanks of my friend Tom for netting us the invite from his phenomenal grandparents who we want to be just like when we are old. I am thanks by my family also and missed them today and I am thanks to our friends at home in Salt Lake and our three great SLC friends who were with us today. I can't get over how much of Salt Lake we still get to see even though we live so far away from there now. I am thanks on these modern times that make that kind of ready connection possible. Lastly, I am thanks of the world-wide web and Web 2.0 especially, it's my second favorite world after, you know, the real world, in which there is birding. Cheers y'all.

Hopefully this will post now and not be lost in the void of connectivelessness.
Go blogs.

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo.

x365 #4: Ruth Weller

The first day we met you gave me one of the warmest, most honest hugs I've ever received in my life. and every day after that you hugged me with the same sincerity, right up until the day you died just three months later. I recall that you laughed all the time and meant it. And you hugged everyone like that, especially the people who really needed it. One of the first grievous insults to my faith was the discovery that the might of your compassion wasn't able to hold out in the face of colon cancer.

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo and x365.