So much has happened since 2010 began. We're engaged (February), I quit teaching and went back to school, we bought a house and moved in (July), Sunil got a major promotion...It feels like a pretty good year.
The whole wedding planning business is a lot of work, but it is the most fun "work" I've done. It's stressful - I've gotten a little overly irritated at dumb things - but a great distraction from the other work stuff I have going on (Principles of Marketing and MicroEconomics). Just about everything has been booked and decided on. So the weight is beginning to lift, and my focus is finally able to shift towards other areas of life a little bit more. :)
Now we just have to fix up the house a little bit: paint the outside (I have to pick that today some time, YIKES!), paint the inside, rework the kitchen, landscaping and some electrical stuff. Hmmmm....can it all be done before the end of September? I think so. But maybe I'm just being optimistic.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Premonition
Saturday night/early morning I have a dream, a nightmare really.
I am driving down the road (around 635 and Midway area) when a car on my left is slammed by a car careening from my right. I, like all the other cars around me, slam on my brakes. "Are they okay" "Oh my god!" - thoughts pummel my mind.
A glance to the rear view determines my fate - BAM! My car is crumpled by a large truck from behind. Single driver.
Darkness.
I wake in the hospital. Sunil at my side.
"They did a test to determine the driver of the truck."
I weakly look at Sunil for the answer.
"It was T.O."
A sigh releases from my lips.
"I promise, I'll take him off of your Fantasy Football League. I can't stand him for what he did."
Weakly, I nod.
Dream ends....
Sunday -
"Hey, Bets. I think your team is gonna lose this week. T.O really sucked this week and screwed you over."
No kidding.
I am driving down the road (around 635 and Midway area) when a car on my left is slammed by a car careening from my right. I, like all the other cars around me, slam on my brakes. "Are they okay" "Oh my god!" - thoughts pummel my mind.
A glance to the rear view determines my fate - BAM! My car is crumpled by a large truck from behind. Single driver.
Darkness.
I wake in the hospital. Sunil at my side.
"They did a test to determine the driver of the truck."
I weakly look at Sunil for the answer.
"It was T.O."
A sigh releases from my lips.
"I promise, I'll take him off of your Fantasy Football League. I can't stand him for what he did."
Weakly, I nod.
Dream ends....
Sunday -
"Hey, Bets. I think your team is gonna lose this week. T.O really sucked this week and screwed you over."
No kidding.
Friday, September 11, 2009
A sense of community - through food.
Mom and I have been trying to figure out just the right weekend for her and Dad to come visit (it's been a while). Part of the conversation eventually pulled itself towards the ever-burning question of what to do in the evenings. Should we (Mom and Dad) come up on Friday or Saturday? If it's Friday, then what will Dad do during the day? Golf. With whom? Hmmm....
Ok. Let's come Saturday. Afternoon.
Perfect.
Ah, but where to eat? Have drinks? What type of food? Oh, the questions never end.
The funny thing is, when Mom comes to visit on her own, there is rarely a question. Red Wine. Pasta. With Italian sausage-flavored turkey meat. And some garlic bread. The biggest question usually looming for us is - which movie to watch and when to start cooking. Dad would (and sometimes does) disapprove of our homebody-ness. But we like it. It opens us up for all kinds of cooking conversation.
And isn't that interesting...the act of cooking opens us up to this ability to discuss things we normally might not. I don't think it's too far from fishing or driving. When our hands are busy, our minds are able to divulge. It is the time to bring us back into our fold.
It reminds me of my family. Both the women and the men. Thanksgiving - the aunts - cooking in the kitchen. Christmas - the aunts - cooking in the kitchen. (Oh, my mom is included in "the aunts") Summer - the men - grilling on the patio. Early Autumn - grilling again.
What is it about family and food? Why do we so strongly tie ourselves together?
I ask these questions, knowing the answer. Communal. We allow ourselves the opportunity to give to each other in a nourishing way. We feed each through conversation, recipes shared across generations and families. We feed each others' health. We grow together - in more than one way, I suppose.
So I ask - beyond the obvious socialization answer - why do we always insist upon "taking you out to eat"? What happened to cooking a meal for each other and sharing in a communal meal? Who decided it was better to take someone out rather than take the time to prepare a meal together?
Ok. Let's come Saturday. Afternoon.
Perfect.
Ah, but where to eat? Have drinks? What type of food? Oh, the questions never end.
The funny thing is, when Mom comes to visit on her own, there is rarely a question. Red Wine. Pasta. With Italian sausage-flavored turkey meat. And some garlic bread. The biggest question usually looming for us is - which movie to watch and when to start cooking. Dad would (and sometimes does) disapprove of our homebody-ness. But we like it. It opens us up for all kinds of cooking conversation.
And isn't that interesting...the act of cooking opens us up to this ability to discuss things we normally might not. I don't think it's too far from fishing or driving. When our hands are busy, our minds are able to divulge. It is the time to bring us back into our fold.
It reminds me of my family. Both the women and the men. Thanksgiving - the aunts - cooking in the kitchen. Christmas - the aunts - cooking in the kitchen. (Oh, my mom is included in "the aunts") Summer - the men - grilling on the patio. Early Autumn - grilling again.
What is it about family and food? Why do we so strongly tie ourselves together?
I ask these questions, knowing the answer. Communal. We allow ourselves the opportunity to give to each other in a nourishing way. We feed each through conversation, recipes shared across generations and families. We feed each others' health. We grow together - in more than one way, I suppose.
So I ask - beyond the obvious socialization answer - why do we always insist upon "taking you out to eat"? What happened to cooking a meal for each other and sharing in a communal meal? Who decided it was better to take someone out rather than take the time to prepare a meal together?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Worthy?
Dressed nicely, they moved around the room "schmoozing". They have a confidence, knowing their paychecks are of a high value. Wine glasses intermingled with vodka cocktails and stout whiskey. Whitened, heightened teeth grimaced smiles.
"Yes. I teach high school English." The handwritten badge gave it away amidst perfectly formed, typed badges. Blaring names and companies and organizations. BOLD, NEAT TYPE. So organized. Precise.
Who knew it would be a death sentence to any hope of valuable conversation, or value.
Backs turn, turn, turn. Black, brown and blue suits. A great seam threads straight down. A vertical plunge. An end?
A monotony of graying falsely blonde or black or brown. "Oh, yes. So gooooood to see you again."
"Yes. I teach high school English." The handwritten badge gave it away amidst perfectly formed, typed badges. Blaring names and companies and organizations. BOLD, NEAT TYPE. So organized. Precise.
Who knew it would be a death sentence to any hope of valuable conversation, or value.
Backs turn, turn, turn. Black, brown and blue suits. A great seam threads straight down. A vertical plunge. An end?
A monotony of graying falsely blonde or black or brown. "Oh, yes. So gooooood to see you again."
Sunday, August 2, 2009
August....ugh.
Maybe it's the beginning of the school year. Maybe it's the beginning of the work year (for the teachers). Maybe it's the june bugs taking over every swimming pool. But for some reason, I've always despised August.
I did not come to this decision lightly. Every year, as the end of July looms near, I feel the August dread climbing over me like the stale, warm heat of 5 p.m. Suffocating. It makes me long for a quick flash forward to October or November. Cool, crisp air. Breathable.
Rains have descended. Perhaps this August will be different. Somehow altered by the lugubrious sky.
I did not come to this decision lightly. Every year, as the end of July looms near, I feel the August dread climbing over me like the stale, warm heat of 5 p.m. Suffocating. It makes me long for a quick flash forward to October or November. Cool, crisp air. Breathable.
Rains have descended. Perhaps this August will be different. Somehow altered by the lugubrious sky.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Why I Love Knitting Needles - Big Ones
Last night I am snuggled comfortably in bed, reading some Kingsolver when my cell phone rings. "Maybe it is Sunil" I think to myself (since he has been out of town).
"No Name" my cell phone reads back at me in black text on the blue-lit screen.
It was not going to use any minutes answering a call so late, so I figured, what the heck. Who knows who it could be. And I answer.
"Mumble, mumble, mumble"
"Hello?"
More mumbling.
"Who is this?"
More mumbling.
I hang up.
Then I hear a noise somewhere in the apartment. I am getting a little creeped out.
The thought crosses my mind - "Did I lock the door when I last took the dogs for a walk?" Uh-oh. Now the tiny bit of paranoia begins to seep in.
Quietly, I crawl out of bed, slink into the kitchen, and pull the biggest, sharpest knife I can find out of the drawer. I proceed to open every single closet, pantry, cabinet door in the place, just knowing that someone or something will come crashing down on me. But I have the knife.
My thorough search turns up absolutely nothing. It only reminds me of two things: Sleeping with the light on at age 26 is not a horrible thing and a large knitting needle within arms reach on the nightstand is a wonderful thing.
"No Name" my cell phone reads back at me in black text on the blue-lit screen.
It was not going to use any minutes answering a call so late, so I figured, what the heck. Who knows who it could be. And I answer.
"Mumble, mumble, mumble"
"Hello?"
More mumbling.
"Who is this?"
More mumbling.
I hang up.
Then I hear a noise somewhere in the apartment. I am getting a little creeped out.
The thought crosses my mind - "Did I lock the door when I last took the dogs for a walk?" Uh-oh. Now the tiny bit of paranoia begins to seep in.
Quietly, I crawl out of bed, slink into the kitchen, and pull the biggest, sharpest knife I can find out of the drawer. I proceed to open every single closet, pantry, cabinet door in the place, just knowing that someone or something will come crashing down on me. But I have the knife.
My thorough search turns up absolutely nothing. It only reminds me of two things: Sleeping with the light on at age 26 is not a horrible thing and a large knitting needle within arms reach on the nightstand is a wonderful thing.
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