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Friday, October 10, 2003

gripe moan complain

Initially, on looking back at today, my inclination would be to say that it stank. But it didn't really, I suppose. I mean, there were a few negative episodes that stand out -- like my husband realizing at 9:30 (note: both grocery stores in our town close at 8:00) that he needed something sweet for his men's breakfast meeting tomorrow at 7:30 (note: both grocery stores in our town open at 8:00). So I have cinnamon yeast rolls in the oven. I had just finished baking and decorating (rather poorly) C's birthday cake. Poor T had been putting the new car stereo in our car (the old one died a spectacular death not long ago and took my 78th Fraser Highlanders bagpipe music cassette with it, may it rest in peace), which started out as a simple job but ended up taking about six hours and much, much frustration. Little things kept going wrong, like the infernal aluminum strip that is supposed to hold the stuff that's stored in our refrigerator door actually in the door, except that for months it has been popping out at inopportune times and spilling the contents of the door all over the floor. Tonight it seemed to calculate the absolute worst possible moment for that to happen, and let fly. Repeatedly.

And I finally gave up trying to like Lord John and the Private Matter -- it's not just that it's too sordid for my taste (although it is); it just kept refusing to pull me into the story. It was an effort to read every page of it that I actually did read (about half the book). I'm disappointed, because I really do like Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. I think, though, that she took it a little too seriously when her fans told her to make her books as long as she wanted -- they'd read them. The most recent one in the series is just a little too sprawling and long, and this John Grey novel (which, of course, her fans are going crazy over because it's Something She Wrote) should have stayed a short story. And then I still wouldn't have wanted to read it, I don't think.


I promise I'll be done with the irritations soon, but I have to share one more, for which I'm sure I'll get some nasty notes. But I have got to vent somewhere, so I guess you can just fire at will if you so desire. But here it is. There are SO MANY PEOPLE who take their pets too seriously. I know that a pet can be a friend and companion, and in some cases these people don't have kids and I can kind of see how they get as attached as they do. But here's an example of what is, in my opinion, Going Too Far. A woman on one of my email lists had to put her cat down a while ago. Then recently she got a card in the mail from the same vet's office where she'd had her put down, reminding her to bring in the cat for a checkup (or probably, in the irritating cutesy manner of most of the veterinarians' reminder postcards I've seen, reminding the pet to come in for a checkup, but I digress). Her sane and normal reaction? She shredded the card and sobbed uncontrollably for an hour -- she could not even pull herself together enough to explain the situation to her husband, who, being of course unable to read the shredded postcard, had no idea what was causing this reaction and thought something unbelievably horrible must have happened. OK, now, look, I can understand being upset about that incident, but that was just too darn much. Come on. When my daughter died -- when the person who'd lived inside me for nine months, whose name we had so carefully selected, whose life was the subject of so many daydreams, when that wonderful little person was dead, and the hospital called about three weeks later to confirm an appointment, I told the nice person on the phone what had happened and she apologized a million times, and I sighed and grieved a little extra, and that was that. And I don't think I'm some kind of cold callous person who doesn't care. Who knows.


OK, go ahead and click the link on the left and send me a nasty note. I can take it.


OK, I'm done griping. Today was not all bad. The weather was perfect, absolutely perfect (as perfect, that is, as weather can be when there is no precipitation). It was a great day for being outside, and we took advantage of that. The kids played in the yard, and I folded and sorted laundry and then read for a while. And the bird across the street has been joined by a dozen families of birds, and they all sing so beautifully that I'd sit outside just to listen to it even if I had no other reason for being there. They've taken up residence in the yew tree just across the street from our house. They make a very nice counterpoint to the stellar jays, who sound more interesting than beautiful most of the time.


Mmm, sweet rolls are done and they smell fabulous.


Speaking of such things, another happy thing about today is that I am down another two pounds. This is a banner day, because not only am I halfway to my goal weight (22 down, 22 to go), but I also weigh what I weighed when I got pregnant for the first time. Except for a very brief time after the birth of my son when I dipped down into the 160's, this is the least I have weighed in over eight years. [doing a little happy dance].



Since I decided to give up on Lord John this afternoon, I started an Elizabeth Berg I haven't read yet. I love the way she describes the way I feel, or the way I would feel if put in her characters' situations, only so much more attractively than I could ever put it. And her characters seem as real as people whom you know better than you know yourself. I have to struggle to make myself go slowly with her books and savor them. The one I'm reading now is Open House. I actually started reading it while I was walking home from the library -- I felt like my ten-year-old self, walking along with my nose buried in a book, looking up periodically to make sure I wasn't about to run into anything in an embarrassing or painful way. I probably looked like a total nerd, but it's a wonderful free feeling to be an adult and not care about that. ahhh. :)

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