here I go again

another week zipped past, just like that.

I have an Iphone these days, with which I e-mail (loaded with typos) and check facebook, so that I make it down to the basement office, to use this computer less and less often.

This week was busy, so busy I had a hard time remembering what day it was and where I was supposed to be.

Maxwell had an orthodontist appointment, and I had a training in the evening at work, and it SNOWED on Thursday.

Who would have thought of snow in March in Portland?

Not me.

I had the great, good fortune to be invited to a party to celebrate the book release of my friend Cheryl's new memoir, Wild on Wednesday.

Since I rarely go out and since I rarely know people that have books coming out in a big way, books mentioned as top picks in both Entertainment Weekly & People, as well as more literary circles, I was pretty excited.

So out into the cold I went with my friend Lisa, who was generous enough to pick me up, since I hate driving at night.  My vision is just atrocious and I haven't seen hide nor hair of my glasses in years.  I try not to drive at all at night if I can avoid it.

The reading was packed and we spent the party huddled together in a corner, but it was nice to be out and to share someone's  much deserved success.

When we walked out to the bar at 10:45 snow was falling.  School was two hours late the next day, and I was a little stressed out, but I muddled through.

getting caught up

 I had a grand plan for St. Patrick's day, which included the humble, yet fantastic vegetables pictured above, but I spent the better part of the day looking at houses for my mother, and in the end found myself phoning in cooking directions to Rolf, who was generously babysitting for me, so that Mark could attend a class and I could gallivant around with a handsome real estate agent, that didn't quite seem to get what it is we are looking for.  As of right now I am not one step closer to finding my mother a house than I was a month ago.  Hrumph.  In the end we had pretty fabulous meal, which included steamed nettles, which Rolf harvested at Sauvie Island. 

 This giant fellow lives with me now, and I continue to be amazed by it.  Today  he was gone, off with his new friend, who makes me a tiny bit nervous, because he is a urbane fellow from Chicago, that knows how to use the bus system, but I am trying to be a sensible and not overbearing parent. I had such a rich life at his age.  Such deep and lovely relationships with friends.  Such an intense love of music and discovery.  I don't want to limit him, or spoil those discoveries.

I have been working hard on contentment this week.
I am even listening to one of those  self hypnosis CDs, where I give myself permission to be happy.
Yesterday while attempting to listen to the CD, which instructs me to  
RE L A X,  R E L A X  D E E P L Y,
Freyja opened the door three times and Maxwell decided to practice his drum kit.  I shut myself up in the bathroom in hopes of being left alone, no dice

This sign was behind one of the houses I looked at for Mom today.

I e-mailed this photo to her.   

Deal breaker?

I have not been reading much lately, which is really weird for me.

I just feel restless and unsettled.

I have had a lot of fun buying songs from I-Tunes, which I apparently am the last one to the party - everyone was out there purchasing cool music with a click, and I was sitting around missing out.

It is all new to me and terribly exciting, since there are so many songs I have on vinyl that I never purchased on CD, and my record player has become pretty fickle lately and I imagine it will die completely at some point soon.

I am listening to Prince's song Kiss, which I love, but I am not a big enough fan to purchase the whole record.  There are about a million songs like that, and I look forward to owning them all.

I had a pretty serious psoas muscle two weeks ago, which caused me to miss yoga for over a week.

When I did go last week I felt really scared of injuring myself, so I was pretty wimpy, which I hate, because yoga usually makes me feel pretty powerful.  It took a great deal of snapping and cracking to make it so I could breath without great pain, so I was reluctant to mess all of that chiropractic work, by doing one too many downward facing dogs.  I also had a crazy intense cold, which made my balance all kooky, so all in all it was a bad week for my body last week.

I hope that things go more smoothly this week.

I took Thursday and Friday off, and I am a little nervous about what I will find when I get back to work in the morning.


I seem to be going back to this song pretty often,

I guess it has a lot to do with my romanticized notion of love, which most likely has not one bit of relationship to reality.
Never the less I like to think of myself devoted in the way described in this song, even though I know it is unhealthy, and from the perspective of a man.  Apparently my view of romantic love is a lot like my love of butter- unhealthy.

I have been working longer hours these past weeks and it makes me wonder how on earth my mother managed to keep up a house and deal with two children and a large dog.

She had me, of course, and I was an asset around the house even as a child, but still.

Hats off to you mom!

In my case the house itself, it's oldness and shittiness plays a huge role in things.

If a week passes without something breaking or cracking or falling apart, I am astonished.

There is a fair bit of plaster repair to be done, after that last big leak.  I am just waiting for the urge to take me.  It is one of those jobs I don't really enjoy.

Last year Mark and I fixed a large crack in the living room and it was a total pain in the ass,  this is going to be a doozie compared to that.

We attended a 40th birthday party for Mark's brother in law yesterday.  The whole family was there as well as a large number of friends.
I managed to contain my social anxiety well and had an ok time.

Aging seems to be a big theme for me this year.

We learned yesterday that an acquaintance has breast cancer.

"What on earth is going on? How can that even be?  She has a BABY!"  I said to Mark.

He says we are just getting older, people die, they get sick, get used to it.

This woman is a mama with three little children, so it felt particularly hard to hear.

At times like that I hear my grandmother's voice, a voice that was often harsh and unkind, say
"why can't that happen to some old maid?"  and now that I have children of my own, I think perhaps she wasn't so unkind after all, just a realist.

Grandma was very fond of name calling and insults.

She had an acid tongue.

I can be fairly brutal myself when necessary, so I get it.

She was a sort of blue collar Dorothy Parker.  I still laugh to myself often over things she said 30 years ago.

Maxwell turned 13 last week.

I am still wildly and insanely in love with being his mother.

I can't imagine my life without him. I want to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him safe from every single bad thing, which is hard now that he is more independent.

"I just want you to make good choices."  

I say almost everyday.

He rolls his eyes, but I think he mostly will. I tell him a lot of cautionary tales, which he half listens to. 

Sometimes I yell at him.

"do you know what I would have given to have someone pack my lunch when I was a kid?! A LOT!"

But, because someone has packed his lunch, washed his clothing, made his bed, opened the door for him everyday when he arrived home from school, he has no idea what it would feel like not to have it, so he mostly thinks I am crazy.