Poor Hubby stayed home today, ill with the cold that wiped me and Tyoma out Monday. Dr. Google decided Egor's "pulled hamstring" is actually sciatica, making both of us feel a bit older and fragile.
His pain hits him when sitting, in his car and at his desk. His weekend guitar playing marathons might be the culprit. Sitting on our low profile bed, strums away for hour in a position that certainly looks uncomfortable. Anyway, neither sickness nor sciatica seem to deter his guitar playing or singing, so I'm glad that he is taking off a day and enjoying it. E will consult a real doctor Friday if he is not feeling better.
I'm still mid-YouTube Project, uploading and organizing videos. I was so jazzed over all the organizing, I had trouble falling asleep. Perhaps drinking 1,000 cups of tea contributed.
Life hasn't been all videos and journal transfers, though. I spent time researching autism yesterday morning. I half remembered literature about about depressed mothers and autism and checked it out. Curiously, there is something called the "broad autism phenotype," which pretty accurately sums up where our family is at on the spectrum. Am I diagnosable? Who knows, but I sure fit in on the phenotype.
Looking at heritability and autism, I found some interesting studies. The "gifted" type of autism, ie, autism where one can speak and has intellectual gifts (HFA/Aspereger's with high IQ) often presents alongside family histories of bipolar or major depression. Interesting. Dad's profoundly gifted, E and I are exceptionally gifted and we have depression and bipolar in both of our families. My dad's father was bipolar--in and out of institutions. Both Dad's mother and Egor's mother have major depression. My mom? Hmmmmm. Anxious, compulsive and coming soon on an episode of Hoarder's.
Neurodiversity. I'm lovin' it.
Would I like to change anything about my life? Be less awkward, have more friends? Not if it cost me my thoughts. I'll even keep my depression right where it is--manageable but omnipresent. I am glad for the reduction of anxiety and obsessive thoughts that Lexapro has brought. I can sleep regular hours and my life is not a 24 hour "Strange Addictions" episode, where viewers can watch me google hypochondriacally, ruminate endlessly over my own mortality and imagine vivid scenarios of the deaths of loved ones.
Below is the article I read with regards to autism and bipolar disorder. I have edited the article for readibility, you can find the article in its entirity here.
Showing posts with label hubby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hubby. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Whooooooo!
E's newest passion has been learning to sing. He spent most of the weekend surfing over YouTube, checking out performances of his favorite songs by other enthusiasts. I had heard some weird sounds coming out of his room last night, but I assumed that is was random tennis ardor.
So, tonight, after he came home from work, tyoma and I were sitting at the table eating dinner when he let walked in the house and let out a whoop.
E: "Whooooooooo! "
(T & Me): Shocked silence and stares.
E: Puts down lunchbox. "Whooo- Oh, sorry! I've been doing these voice exercises all day. The folks at the desks next to me must think that I've lost my mind."
M: "Oh. Going 'Whooo' is a voice exercise?"
T: Shocked silence.
E:"Yes! I saw it on YouTube! I'm trying to build my range."
M: "I see."
E: "Whooooooooooo! "
I heard the whoops at random intervals for the rest of the evening. Tyoma, playing is his room while papa whooped, would yell: "Stop that! Stop that singing!!!"
It was odd, especially since Egor was so sincere about his practice. He wasn't self-conscious or the least bit reserved, singing out lusty "Whoooooooos" all evening long.
So, tonight, after he came home from work, tyoma and I were sitting at the table eating dinner when he let walked in the house and let out a whoop.
E: "Whooooooooo! "
(T & Me): Shocked silence and stares.
E: Puts down lunchbox. "Whooo- Oh, sorry! I've been doing these voice exercises all day. The folks at the desks next to me must think that I've lost my mind."
M: "Oh. Going 'Whooo' is a voice exercise?"
T: Shocked silence.
E:"Yes! I saw it on YouTube! I'm trying to build my range."
M: "I see."
E: "Whooooooooooo! "
I heard the whoops at random intervals for the rest of the evening. Tyoma, playing is his room while papa whooped, would yell: "Stop that! Stop that singing!!!"
It was odd, especially since Egor was so sincere about his practice. He wasn't self-conscious or the least bit reserved, singing out lusty "Whoooooooos" all evening long.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Telephone Call
I spent the morning shopping at our local Walmart Superstore and have concluded that the majority of folks present were very sullen. No errand running husbands, feisty senior citizens, or soccer moms. Not even the obligatory lovey-dovey couple. Just grim cart-rolling, button-pushing zombies. I tried to make a few jokes, but they all fell flat. My cashier didn't even give me the "Bitch, please'" look I get when I'm trying to be funny. I wondered for the hundredth time if petulance is spread by a virus. Maybe that's why they have those shopping cart sanitizers everywhere.
While I perused the dairy section looking for gooey yogurt deliciousness, my cell phone rang. It was Egor calling. His voice sounded so odd that I was immediately alarmed. He asked me "Where are you?" without preamble--ratcheting up my anxiety further. "What's happening?!" I asked, hoping not to sound panicked. He took a long pause, during which my heart sank. I was certain that he was in terrible trouble, or that some unspeakable thing happened to Tyoma.
He started to speak again and stopped. Certain that he was summoning the courage to reveal something truly horrid, I grasped the cart and truly began to panic. Again, I asked as calmly as I could, "What's happening???"
He must have detected my alarm because he began to laugh. I was irritated and strangely, only moderately relieved. He laughed for a bit more and said, "I'm at home now and was wondering if you could bring me a donut." For a moment, I was too stunned to appreciate the humor of the situation. Then I was relieved. Heh.
While I perused the dairy section looking for gooey yogurt deliciousness, my cell phone rang. It was Egor calling. His voice sounded so odd that I was immediately alarmed. He asked me "Where are you?" without preamble--ratcheting up my anxiety further. "What's happening?!" I asked, hoping not to sound panicked. He took a long pause, during which my heart sank. I was certain that he was in terrible trouble, or that some unspeakable thing happened to Tyoma.
He started to speak again and stopped. Certain that he was summoning the courage to reveal something truly horrid, I grasped the cart and truly began to panic. Again, I asked as calmly as I could, "What's happening???"
He must have detected my alarm because he began to laugh. I was irritated and strangely, only moderately relieved. He laughed for a bit more and said, "I'm at home now and was wondering if you could bring me a donut." For a moment, I was too stunned to appreciate the humor of the situation. Then I was relieved. Heh.
Monday, January 3, 2011
A Day to Ourselves
Whew!
What a relief it was to finally get Tyoma back to school! He was a sweetheart getting ready this morning, as if he too was relieved the long break was over. Unfortunately, the complaints about his classmate, Maureen continue and getting him to eat a respectable dinner was a chore.
Tennisfiend took most of the morning by himself--playing guitar and whooshing the vacuum cleaner about. I surfed and organized my zentangle notebook. I am such a collector! Finding new zentangle patterns is such a special treat. I am so grateful to all those who share although I have nothing to return.
What a relief it was to finally get Tyoma back to school! He was a sweetheart getting ready this morning, as if he too was relieved the long break was over. Unfortunately, the complaints about his classmate, Maureen continue and getting him to eat a respectable dinner was a chore.
Tennisfiend took most of the morning by himself--playing guitar and whooshing the vacuum cleaner about. I surfed and organized my zentangle notebook. I am such a collector! Finding new zentangle patterns is such a special treat. I am so grateful to all those who share although I have nothing to return.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Holy Crap, Here's Your Influenza A (H1)
Poor, poor Tennisfiend!!! After mama left he came down with my horrible flu. And I mean horrible. I have never seen him this ill. Fever of 102, chills, sweats, aches, nausea. I put spare sheets next to the bed so he could change them after he sweat through them.
I am scared for him. This morning at six he told me that he was having pain in the right side of his chest. It hurt so much he couldn't lie down flat. His blood pressure was so low he felt dizzy. We got him into see a doctor first thing this morning and they ran an EKG.
His heart is okay, but he might have viral pneumonia. The low blood pressure came from losing too much fluid to the fever. He's on bed rest and both of us are disgusted with being so ill for so long. Since we sent Tyoma to KinderCare, we have been sick, sick and sick. We are talking about removing him from the program for the 1,000th time.
I am scared for him. This morning at six he told me that he was having pain in the right side of his chest. It hurt so much he couldn't lie down flat. His blood pressure was so low he felt dizzy. We got him into see a doctor first thing this morning and they ran an EKG.
His heart is okay, but he might have viral pneumonia. The low blood pressure came from losing too much fluid to the fever. He's on bed rest and both of us are disgusted with being so ill for so long. Since we sent Tyoma to KinderCare, we have been sick, sick and sick. We are talking about removing him from the program for the 1,000th time.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Russian Kettlebells
E has been talking about Russian Kettlebells for the past few weeks, actually since before Christmas in NM. The 'bells are iron slugs with handles on them and you swing them to get into shape.
TF's been agonizing over the purchase of a bell, specifically how heavy to buy it. He wanted to get the 35 pound bell since it is closer to the type soviet athletes used to train with, but he was afraid that it might be too heavy. The debate circled around for a few days and then he purchased the heavy one.
The exercises for this thing are crazy. Basically you get fit by swinging the weight vigorously back and forth. It's a wrecker-ball in motion. E really needs to be mindful of where he's swining his weight since Tyoma is silent around the house and I have horrid visions of a hospital visit and untimely funeral (for hubby if he hurts T).
TF's been agonizing over the purchase of a bell, specifically how heavy to buy it. He wanted to get the 35 pound bell since it is closer to the type soviet athletes used to train with, but he was afraid that it might be too heavy. The debate circled around for a few days and then he purchased the heavy one.
The exercises for this thing are crazy. Basically you get fit by swinging the weight vigorously back and forth. It's a wrecker-ball in motion. E really needs to be mindful of where he's swining his weight since Tyoma is silent around the house and I have horrid visions of a hospital visit and untimely funeral (for hubby if he hurts T).
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Trip to California
Don't watch an Air Emergency marathon right before a plane trip, is all I can say. I have the jitters anyway, just because this trip is so important to us. I know we have only been looking for a job for a few months, but we have been out of money since February. Getting seated on the plane, E gives me the window seat. Bless him. As the flight attendant performs her obligatory take-off seat buckle demonstration, I try to push missing Tyoma out of my mind.
We take off and the physical thrill engulfs me. I love the roller coaster pressure of flight. The idea of soaring throughout the clouds to an unnatural elevation thrills me. Unfortunately the blabbing of the pilot brings me back to missing Tyoma.
I do miss him. I know Mom will do a good job, but still. It sounds ridiculous, but imagine. If you are used to wearing a watch when you are out and about, you become habituated to checking it for the time. This is how I miss Tyoma. My eyes want to find him, check him and process that tiny bit of information before I can carry on with a clear, untroubled mind.
The best way to relax is to look out the window and write what I see. The light blends into late afternoon and clumpy curdled cheese clouds catch my eye. The clouds are luminous, but offer no respite for the parched desert below. Arroyos on drab sands look like branching veins, gin blossoms that roll into cauliflower-eared ridges and hills. As we increase our altitude, the land below reforms into a fossil bed. Armies of trilobites meander on the ocean floor, bumped and whirled by unseen eddies of turbulence, that I can feel perched in the sky.
Well, that squeezed all the poetry out of me. I turn my focus to fellow passengers. A deeply concerned black man, who spent all of his time making phone calls at the gate folds his hands together pensively. I could not quite overhear his conversations, but he had the air of one dealing with family tragedy. He was not calling to inform anyone of news, but rather to reassure others that he is on his way. I stare at him and want to say something to him, or even just to lay my hand on his arm. He shifts posititon and I glance away. I don't want to disturb him with my open sympathy.
An Asian family with a 14ish son sit placidly. The boy brought a skateboard for a carry on which caused a commotion as the family tried to check it at the front of the plane. He is pudgy and has an earring in the cartilage of his ear as well as newish looking skater togs. Something about his beaten down demeanor tells me he is picked on by other kids. His parents and grandparents bow in unison to the flight attendants offering drinks.
Two twenty-ish girls, long haired and busty, sport spaghetti strap tank-tops and new high-heeled sandals. Oddly, their make up is subtle and flattering. They fuss over their two carry-on dresses that they hoist out of the overhead compartment. I try to avoid eye contact as I take in the spectacle, so they don't see my amusement, but the duo do not seem self-conscious. They are too immersed in the adventure they are about to embark on to notice anyone else. I get a closer look at the dresses, they are flimsy, inexpensive and fashioned with the sort of glittery tackiness I thought died in the 80s. Generic plastic hangers complete the scene. I half way expect them to change their clothes in the aisle, but they are simply twittering over their new dresses. I suspect that the girls will have a riot in Las Vegas.
The rest of the passengers have bowed heads, silently focusing on their private tasks. There seems to be a pattern: laptop, laptop, book, book, book. I am the only one writing in a paper journal. Am I so antiquated, so soon? At least I don't have a typewriter.
I close my eyes, enjoying the smooth buoyancy of the flight. Vibrations from the plane are rhythmic and soothing, the shushing of the engine, hypnotic. A train ride in the sky.
The drink cart approaches. I am excited by the possibility of wine. We obtain our drinks and peanuts (which you must request). I listen, above the sound of the plane no one is speaking. It is hushed except for the sound of peanut wrappers and Egor chewing ice. My wine feels warm and smooth. Out the windows, the trilobites have shifted into relief--etched into the landscape, looking more geological and less surreal.
As we come close to Nevada, I wonder about all the others who have looked down on the same scene. The eternal expanse of seabed is unbroken by roads. I wonder how civilization crept over this expanse of dry furrowed land to find Las Vegas. Five, ten minutes pass. The earth slyly transforms into a mottled desert, and then into greener terrain transected by vivid ocher roads. Tiny patches of metallic crystals glimmer. The randomness of the landscape becomes grid like and rectangular. It looks like we are flying over an immense stretch of green and brown circuit board with soldered roads. This gives way to turquoise quarries and a milky blue lake populated by tiny watercraft whose wakes I can see. Viva Las Vegas.
We take off and the physical thrill engulfs me. I love the roller coaster pressure of flight. The idea of soaring throughout the clouds to an unnatural elevation thrills me. Unfortunately the blabbing of the pilot brings me back to missing Tyoma.
I do miss him. I know Mom will do a good job, but still. It sounds ridiculous, but imagine. If you are used to wearing a watch when you are out and about, you become habituated to checking it for the time. This is how I miss Tyoma. My eyes want to find him, check him and process that tiny bit of information before I can carry on with a clear, untroubled mind.
The best way to relax is to look out the window and write what I see. The light blends into late afternoon and clumpy curdled cheese clouds catch my eye. The clouds are luminous, but offer no respite for the parched desert below. Arroyos on drab sands look like branching veins, gin blossoms that roll into cauliflower-eared ridges and hills. As we increase our altitude, the land below reforms into a fossil bed. Armies of trilobites meander on the ocean floor, bumped and whirled by unseen eddies of turbulence, that I can feel perched in the sky.
Well, that squeezed all the poetry out of me. I turn my focus to fellow passengers. A deeply concerned black man, who spent all of his time making phone calls at the gate folds his hands together pensively. I could not quite overhear his conversations, but he had the air of one dealing with family tragedy. He was not calling to inform anyone of news, but rather to reassure others that he is on his way. I stare at him and want to say something to him, or even just to lay my hand on his arm. He shifts posititon and I glance away. I don't want to disturb him with my open sympathy.
An Asian family with a 14ish son sit placidly. The boy brought a skateboard for a carry on which caused a commotion as the family tried to check it at the front of the plane. He is pudgy and has an earring in the cartilage of his ear as well as newish looking skater togs. Something about his beaten down demeanor tells me he is picked on by other kids. His parents and grandparents bow in unison to the flight attendants offering drinks.
Two twenty-ish girls, long haired and busty, sport spaghetti strap tank-tops and new high-heeled sandals. Oddly, their make up is subtle and flattering. They fuss over their two carry-on dresses that they hoist out of the overhead compartment. I try to avoid eye contact as I take in the spectacle, so they don't see my amusement, but the duo do not seem self-conscious. They are too immersed in the adventure they are about to embark on to notice anyone else. I get a closer look at the dresses, they are flimsy, inexpensive and fashioned with the sort of glittery tackiness I thought died in the 80s. Generic plastic hangers complete the scene. I half way expect them to change their clothes in the aisle, but they are simply twittering over their new dresses. I suspect that the girls will have a riot in Las Vegas.
The rest of the passengers have bowed heads, silently focusing on their private tasks. There seems to be a pattern: laptop, laptop, book, book, book. I am the only one writing in a paper journal. Am I so antiquated, so soon? At least I don't have a typewriter.
I close my eyes, enjoying the smooth buoyancy of the flight. Vibrations from the plane are rhythmic and soothing, the shushing of the engine, hypnotic. A train ride in the sky.
The drink cart approaches. I am excited by the possibility of wine. We obtain our drinks and peanuts (which you must request). I listen, above the sound of the plane no one is speaking. It is hushed except for the sound of peanut wrappers and Egor chewing ice. My wine feels warm and smooth. Out the windows, the trilobites have shifted into relief--etched into the landscape, looking more geological and less surreal.
As we come close to Nevada, I wonder about all the others who have looked down on the same scene. The eternal expanse of seabed is unbroken by roads. I wonder how civilization crept over this expanse of dry furrowed land to find Las Vegas. Five, ten minutes pass. The earth slyly transforms into a mottled desert, and then into greener terrain transected by vivid ocher roads. Tiny patches of metallic crystals glimmer. The randomness of the landscape becomes grid like and rectangular. It looks like we are flying over an immense stretch of green and brown circuit board with soldered roads. This gives way to turquoise quarries and a milky blue lake populated by tiny watercraft whose wakes I can see. Viva Las Vegas.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
New Suit!
And thanks to mom and Dad for the lovely Bulova watch, it's gorgeous!
It's so wonderful to see him so happy and proud. This summer has been so hard on him. i hope we can find a new place to make our home. someplace with good schools for Tyoma and hopefully someplace we can still see our friends. how cool it would be to have Pat and Kurt come out to visit with us over the summers. Oh! Crossed fingers!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Late Night Meeting
Tonight TF came home feeling unwell, undoubtedly unsettled by last night’s match and the ton of insane stuff going on at work. My poor baby! I fixed soup for him and tucked him into bed early. Then the phone rang. He had to dash to a meeting in 45 minutes!
I waited up till ten to hear what had happened. Looks like folks are lawyering up in earnest. The company that wants to buy TF’s company will be in town Friday the 21st. I pray that the company sells!
I waited up till ten to hear what had happened. Looks like folks are lawyering up in earnest. The company that wants to buy TF’s company will be in town Friday the 21st. I pray that the company sells!
Monday, September 17, 2007
Tennis Maniac
Tennisfiend is a member of our local tennis league, so I answer occasional phone calls from other members needing to re-schedule matches. This guy, “Dave,” called three times about tonight’s match. He sounded rather manic to me. After TF came home from the match, he confirmed my suspicions--Dave was a lunatic. When E made a call, Dave yelled obscenities and would not calm down. He continued cursing for the rest of the match.
Russians find profanity particularly offensive. I was brought up in a rather earthy household, and I dropped my vernacular very quickly. I think in all the years we’ve been married, I’ve only hear him say “shit” once. He was big time offended by Dave and even wrote up the incident. TF has played some obnoxious characters in the past, but he said this guy was over the top.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Tennisfiend in a Hardhat
Originally uploaded by
No, the stylist for the Village People didn't break down our door and give my man a sexy new make-over!
Tennisfiend is posing for a Photoshop job that will put him with his team under a helicopter in the desert. We've taken a zillion of these photos. Do you realize how hard it is to take a picture you have to pose for? One eye is too squinty, now the other one is, now he's in the sun, wait! Too much sun, and the squint is back! I hope this one will work out! I'll post the incredible final result.
ETA: they had to reshoot the picture. The lighting was too hinky.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Frog Invasion!
Egor wrote to me to say:
I found a little froggy in my office this morning and there was another one even smaller in the lab. I have no idea where they came from or how they got in. It took all my courage to put it in a plastic cup and take it outside.
Awww! He hates slimy things and reptiles to the point of phobia. My brave husband, the Frog Conqueror!
Friday, August 17, 2007
Happy Birthday Moosh
It seems like I've spent most of this week scrambling to put together birthday surprises for my two guys. Last year I ordered a heap of outdoor grill goodies for Egor, including an extensive range of esoteric accessories, that save for one, we have used regularly. This year we are stone broke, so such luxury is an impossibility. I even speculate that we might need to either auction off our grill-ware or start catering out of our back yard.
So, to treat Egor, I focused on the pragmatic. What does that mean? Pillows! Yep, I'm replacing the battered, pancaked pillow his mama sent him years ago with fresh springy marshmallowy pillows.
E's one of those fellows who likes firm pillows. You know, the unyielding mattress-like pillows that jolt your spine into rectangular alignment. They are the type that are either very expensive and feature the word "therapeutic" on them or are bargain priced and "made in China." I guess the difference is how long-lived they are, but if they last for six months and don't smell like naphtha, they'll do.
So lucky me, I go to JCP and find, on sale, a pillow certain to contain several geese worth of feathers. Actually, considering the price, it's probably Freebreezed chicken feathers, but it's lovely. I splurged a tiny bit on some shower gel at Dillards, Ambre, pour Hommes. Smells great! It's nice to find a scent fresh and modern that doesn't smell insecticidal.
So, tonight we had a lovely home-cooked dinner, thanks to mom: scallops wrapped in thick, organic uncured bacon ( my mom rocks!), asparagus and corn on the cob with tons of melted butter. I sent the birthday cake to work, since I am still watching my carbs, but wine doesn't count, does it? Sauvingon Blanc, ice cold. We are sure to toast my folks, who have been so helpful to us!
So, to treat Egor, I focused on the pragmatic. What does that mean? Pillows! Yep, I'm replacing the battered, pancaked pillow his mama sent him years ago with fresh springy marshmallowy pillows.
E's one of those fellows who likes firm pillows. You know, the unyielding mattress-like pillows that jolt your spine into rectangular alignment. They are the type that are either very expensive and feature the word "therapeutic" on them or are bargain priced and "made in China." I guess the difference is how long-lived they are, but if they last for six months and don't smell like naphtha, they'll do.
So lucky me, I go to JCP and find, on sale, a pillow certain to contain several geese worth of feathers. Actually, considering the price, it's probably Freebreezed chicken feathers, but it's lovely. I splurged a tiny bit on some shower gel at Dillards, Ambre, pour Hommes. Smells great! It's nice to find a scent fresh and modern that doesn't smell insecticidal.
So, tonight we had a lovely home-cooked dinner, thanks to mom: scallops wrapped in thick, organic uncured bacon ( my mom rocks!), asparagus and corn on the cob with tons of melted butter. I sent the birthday cake to work, since I am still watching my carbs, but wine doesn't count, does it? Sauvingon Blanc, ice cold. We are sure to toast my folks, who have been so helpful to us!
Friday, March 2, 2007
Tennisbaby
I swear this is the cutest pic! ( I seem to be saying that a lot, eh?) Little Tyoma looks astonished, as if to say, what! Play a game today? With This??
He has the sweetest temperment! We have been working with him to ensure that his sleeping patterns get hard-wired into his little brain. I've been devouring books on sleep and nutrition for the little guy. So "sleep hygeine" is a must. E, Dad and I all have trouble with nighttime sleep, so I'm working hard to keep Tyoma on track.
We have a little ritual of reading we do before baby bedtime. The little guy loves to cuddle and read books. The final book we read is "Fuzzy Bee."
I have the whole story memorized, so I can rock him and tell him the story. The funny thing is that once he sees the Fuzzy Bee book, he starts to cry and fuss since he knows what's coming next!
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
Twelve Years Ago
Twelve years ago Tennisfiend and I met for the first time! The anniversary always makes the holiday extra special J
As expected, the weather was traditional Forth of July--dreary, muggy, rainy with poor visibility. When I was a kid , this annual weather phenomena was a bane neighborhood children. It frequently affected our viewing of the local fireworks, or worse, it postponed or even prevented our own firework displays. Nowadays, they have seriously restricted firework usage, so all the fun stuff is prohibited. How many kids actually blow their fingers off, anyway? Oh, yeah, my cousin. He lost the tips of several fingers.
Our problem in 'Cruces is weather related. Except for today, it has been very hot and extremely dry. Thus aerial fireworks and even firecrackers have been banned. If I were a kid, I would be prostrate with grief. I loved blowing stuff up. We never spared an anthill, mailbox or stray soda can. On the bright side, Misty is relieved. Fireworks seriously freak her out.
Tonight Tennisfiend and I enjoyed a very low key evening. We ate delicious ribeye steak that TF grilled along with mushrooms and taters (none for me). We also had some wine--well I had some faux wine--and went out front to watch the city fireworks. Usually, we would go on the roof, but my pregnant self is certainly not climbing a ladder and scuttling about on a steep incline. It was difficult to find a comfortable place to sit where we could also see the display, but with the help of some pillows and the hood of the Taurus, we managed.
The city spent more on fireworks than usual this year. I can't decide if it was because of the firework ban or upcoming elections. I imagined how spectacular the display must have been from Pat's place. His house is adjacent to the park when they shoot everything off. Something fun is always happening at Brotherkurts! Whew, I'm tired. That's all for now!
As expected, the weather was traditional Forth of July--dreary, muggy, rainy with poor visibility. When I was a kid , this annual weather phenomena was a bane neighborhood children. It frequently affected our viewing of the local fireworks, or worse, it postponed or even prevented our own firework displays. Nowadays, they have seriously restricted firework usage, so all the fun stuff is prohibited. How many kids actually blow their fingers off, anyway? Oh, yeah, my cousin. He lost the tips of several fingers.
Our problem in 'Cruces is weather related. Except for today, it has been very hot and extremely dry. Thus aerial fireworks and even firecrackers have been banned. If I were a kid, I would be prostrate with grief. I loved blowing stuff up. We never spared an anthill, mailbox or stray soda can. On the bright side, Misty is relieved. Fireworks seriously freak her out.
Tonight Tennisfiend and I enjoyed a very low key evening. We ate delicious ribeye steak that TF grilled along with mushrooms and taters (none for me). We also had some wine--well I had some faux wine--and went out front to watch the city fireworks. Usually, we would go on the roof, but my pregnant self is certainly not climbing a ladder and scuttling about on a steep incline. It was difficult to find a comfortable place to sit where we could also see the display, but with the help of some pillows and the hood of the Taurus, we managed.
The city spent more on fireworks than usual this year. I can't decide if it was because of the firework ban or upcoming elections. I imagined how spectacular the display must have been from Pat
Friday, February 3, 2006
Monday, September 26, 2005
Waiting For The Phone To Ring...
Well, he’s off.
He flew into Denver and drove the four hours to Casper since the only other air transport is a glorified crop duster that can’t fly on windy days. As I wait for the "I’ve arrived safely" call, I have two morbid fates to neurotically contemplate--the usual airplane crash inferno and the improbable (but deadly) freeway flip-over accident. Needless to say, I avoid watching Fox News when he travels.
****
Yay! He called! His voice is like hearing a beloved, but long forgotten song. Yay! His trip went well except for the urinal-cake-mobile that Hertz rented him. The rental car was apparently infused with an unsavory combination of air freshener and sanitizer. To compensate, fate created an unexpected room shortage at the hotel, thus E received an upgrade to a super-mega-ultra-suite. Yay!
Well, I’m off to ruminate over the expectant horde of rapists, burglars and dog abusers who have been waiting for his departure to perpetrate their foul crimes. Sigh.
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For dinner we had a sushi and champagne festival on the livingroom floor, lit by every candle in the house. We ended the evening cuddling on the couch watching Russian children's cartoons and sharing oranges.