I’ve never been so ready to close the door on a month and leave it behind forever.
Fuck you, March. You piece of shit.
Ginny made it home on Thursday afternoon as scheduled. She’s doing mostly fine, as fine as can be expected, I suppose. We had catheter issues all weekend and had a big fat go-round with the alleged home health people, who suggested we take her to the doctor, and I’m like how in the fuck, exactly, shall we get her there? If we could take her to the doctor we wouldn’t HAVE an arrangement with home health. Bleh. I’ve done nothing but think about pee all weekend. I am now a pee expert. If you need to know anything about pee, ask, because I’m sure I’ll have the answer. I have a master’s degree in pee.
Also this weekend: I watched Three Days of the Condor, which was excellent. I went shopping for skirts and stuff, because I have three days of events to dress up for this week. And we shat our collective pants about fifty times watching Duke last night. If driving up the middle isn’t working, J.J., then quit fucking doing it! Okay. Onward.
If you live in the Roanoke area, local Food Lion stores are the only ones that carry Pudding Pops. I’m pleased to say that although they are smaller than they used to be, they taste exactly like I remember. And the swirl ones are still my favorite.
If you live in the Dallas area, go check out Marah at Gypsy Tea Room tomorrow night. I really like them a lot but have never seen them live, so you guys can go and tell me all about it. If you aren’t familiar with the band, go here and listen to some stuff. Listen to “East” first – it’s probably my favorite of their songs.
I’m afraid to jinx myself by saying this, but believe it or not, I’m actually really working on the mix I promised some of you about a year ago. “East” will definitely be on it. I have the list right here on my desk and I use it when I’m distracting myself from work stuff.
I should go do some of that work stuff now. A busy week awaits.
Sorry I haven’t been writing as often. Part of the problem is that I have so much to say. Funny, I know, but it’s like I’m driving around and I’m trying to work and I’m thinking all the freakin’ time and quite often I think “I should write an entry about this” and when I sit down in front of the computer and load up the entry box, I find myself at an utter loss. So this time I’m just going to tell you some of what I remember, in completely arbitrary fashion. Maybe I’ll do it as a list. Yeah.
I know everyone’s all about DCFC these days, and I certainly like them well enough. But I actually discovered them through Aveo, because both bands are on Barsuk, a great little label from Washington. I knew Aveo first and really like them a lot, and got Death Cab’s EP for free when I ordered Bridge to the Northern Lights. You can go here and listen to “Dust that Dreams of Brooms” and “Frostbitten” from their new album, Battery. It’s pretty good, but between you and me, I prefer Bridge to the Northern Lights.
It’s a quick game that helps you figure out how to vote in November. For the record, here’s my result: You are a Left Wing Communist. You have little love for God or Country. You list Michael Moore as an intellectual and often threaten to move to Canada. You may want to vote for Nader, but your socialist friends will tell you to vote for John Kerry.
I’d never vote for Nader and I have decidedly mixed feelings about Mr. Moore, but I have threatened to move to Canada a few times lately. Oh, and I kind of want the “Sharpton is my Homeboy” tee. Because it’s funny. Is that so wrong?
She will be home in the afternoon so I am working a half-day so that I can be there when she gets home. She is still bed-bound for the most part and not able to bear weight on either leg for the next 3-5 weeks, so ultimately we’ll have the same regimen that she has had while in the hospital. Bedpans, catheter, bed-to-chair transfers when she’s able, PT people at the house three days a week and nurses twice a week to do bloodwork. In a way, all of our work is just beginning, but we are definitely looking forward to having her home.
I am working till 10:30 tonight so I should go get some dinner. And how are you?
PS – Pamie hits it out of the park, as usual. In case all my other links didn’t give you enough to do.
For several weeks I’ve been searching for a good, cheap spring bag to carry my stuff around in. I was tempted by the bright pink Isaac Mizrahi bag at Target, but I needed a bag that wouldn’t clash with the pink coat. So I got this one:
And it appears to work well with the pink coat. I’ve gotten lots of compliments.
I haven’t written because I’ve been having motivational difficulties. Writing is a challenge. Working is a challenge. Calling back my friends (I have voice mails from five or six people that I haven’t responded to yet) is a challenge. Going to the hospital is a challenge. Leaving once I’m there is a challenge. Getting out of bed is a challenge.
It’s hard, sometimes, to believe that only a few weeks ago I felt so full of possibility. I know that things are going to be okay eventually, but right now eventually seems an awful long way away.
Sammi and Jamie wrote their feelings about the whole thing here and here. I’m alternately impressed that they express themselves so well at 16 and 13, and sad that they have to go through this at all at 16 and 13.
But it’s not all bad, you guys. I swear. Last night, Mom and Dad and Sam and Jay and I were finally all together for probably the first time since the wreck. We ate dinner and watched American Idol, and ripped on the contestants and joked around and laughed and made fun of each other and even though we missed having Ginny there, it was the most family time we’ve had in a while. And we went to Target this weekend, finally, and to see Return of the King again, and we’re sort of trying to be normal whenever possible.
It’s just that trying to be normal is taking up a little more time than it used to.
Here’s more of what I was talking about with regards to Bee Season.
From Page 2: Eliza suspects that the school’s disfigured desks and chairs are shunted into classrooms like hers at the end of every quarter, seems to remember a smattering of pristine desks disappearing from her classrooms over spring and winter breaks to be replaced by their older, uglier cousins.
Page 3: Though some students finish faster than others, Eliza doesn’t notice this, couldn’t tell if asked where she falls within the worksheet completion continuum.
Page 4: Eliza feels a sudden pang of guilt for having left a lump of powdered mashed potato in the oval indentation of her tray instead of scraping it into the trash, worries that the water won’t be strong enough to overcome her lunchtime inertia.
Page 15: Eliza wishes her father’s hand were on her shoulder for some other reason, generally covets all forms of his attention.
Page 16: Eliza accepts this possibility with the inherent grace of the acutely underconfident, decides not to mention it until he does.
Page 17: Eliza can only imagine the supercharged brain that resides inside, generally equates the inside of her mother’s head with the grand finale of a July Fourth fireworks display.
And that’s just from spending about five minutes skimming random pages for examples. As it turns out, when I look more closely at the phenomenon I see that it’s almost always a technique Goldberg uses specifically for Eliza’s thoughts, and that the groupings are more often in twos than in threes.
I still don’t know for sure if it’s grammatically incorrect, although it feels like it is. I’m certainly not a published writer (YET) but I know that I sometimes take small liberties with the rules of grammar to create a scene, and I know that lots of other, better writers do this too, and with better results. I don’t think Goldberg does it well, though. I hate when she does this, in fact, because it feels like a bumpy, awkward flow to me, and in these moments I feel the writer trying to force me inside Eliza’s head, and I resent it.
The more I think about it, the more I think I didn’t really enjoy the book that much, and I found the last few pages difficult to get through because I didn’t care enough to make it to the end. I don’t really think I could recommend it.