“Is That All There Is?” Carry On Tuesday

The Bartender (continued from previous post)

When she awoke the next day, disheveled, smelly and still in her work clothes she couldn’t even remember the past night’s events. Or should she say morning’s events since she did not know what time she had stumbled onto her bed, clothed and reeking of alcohol and various old food smells. She sniffed under her arm and could pick up: cilantro, hummus, bean dip, and something smoky and meaty, like short ribs. She started to remember someone had asked her late into the night if she could make them her famous short ribs and she had, using leftover sauces and serving it with a creamy polenta that was on the night’s special menu. It was the last night of her restaurant, the very last night, tomorrow it would be gone, forever.

Was it really the morning, was she really officially closed? Unemployed? ‘Shit,’ she thought, “Yeah,” she grumbled out loud to her black Lab, Lucy, “Fuck.” she said out loud. The television must have been on all night, there was a commercial on to help people stop smoking by chewing some stupid gum. She reached for her pack of cigarettes and lit one not even bothering to listen to the nicotine sponsor ads on television. “Shut-up” she croaked after she inhaled deeply. She threw her clog at the television but didn’t even have the energy to get near, her clog just landed on a pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

She had one arm around Lucy, her dog, a  black labrador receiver wearing a red bandana, and as she rubbed her own eyes from the smoke, her hangover and from the lack of sleep. She turned to her faithful animal and said, “Lucy, I’ve worked in a kitchen since I was sixteen, I’m now thirty-six with no job and no restaurant. Is that all there is? There’s gotta be something more because this shit is not gonna fly.”  Lucy just looked back at her as old, kind dogs do and licked her face. Dogs are great at unconditional love, of course there was no answer for Lucy to give but she knew that, she knew she would have to make a decision soon….just not now, not yet, she wasn’t ready for any new commitments.

She needed time and space away from everyone she knew in the restaurant business and her family. She tried hard to push people away, because in the past, she had learned, that letting people get too close, was like a personal invitation to heartache and she had had enough of that for a lifetime. She stood up,  head in hand, to the shower, muttering and groaning the whole way. She had no idea what she was going to do with her life; she just knew she had to take a step. One step at a time and give herself time to heal.

Mellow Yellow Monday – NEW – Lemons

There is something about seeing lemons that just makes me happy. I’m not talking about lemons displayed in a grocery store but lemons in a glass jar as a centerpiece, something as simple as that is lovely. You don’t need to be Martha Stewart to have an elaborate centerpiece when you have lemons or clementines in a beautiful, artistic bowl. I tend to like blue bowls and one color fruit. Lemons or clementines against blue napkins or in a dish is a lovely combination; it’s simple, it’s happy and so cheap. It doesn’t take much to make me happy.

It’s OK To Be OK

Image via Wikipedia

A friend of mine wrote a post recently about whether she should strive for stardom or just be satisfied with mediocrity, (my very loose translation.) It’s a subject that has been on and off my mind for years and one that I’ve never answered. After reading her very well written blog: (Phylorsblog) I had an answer for myself. I don’t need stardom or unbridled stress like that of a frisky colt rearing up on a smoky ranch. As soon as I decided that writing was for enjoyment and for my blog, I felt lighter, happier and clearer than I have felt for years.

It’s interesting that if I had asked myself the question I probably would have been inundated with anxiety and stress but that didn’t happen. I don’t know what her answer will be to the question she posed but I’m happy with my answer. Everyone dreams of being famous and making a lot of money, I’m content where I am. I used to dream of being “famous” and then realized I liked my anonymity a lot more than being surrounded by strangers, watching and criticizing my every move.

I’m fairly low maintenance, it doesn’t take much to make me happy, I get excited about little things and I tend to amuse myself. I’m definitely child-like and I appreciate my humor even when no one else does; that doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m sometimes too sensitive, true, but it’s who I am. I’m 55 and have less angst today than I did in my twenties; do we have a choice? I choose to not cover the few gray hairs in my brown, curly hair, I feel that I have earned them.

When the snow finally starts to melt and the soggy, mush of ice-water remains, I will hold on, when I can, to try to avoid slipping and falling with my loose bones. Not everything is perfect at 55, but then again, nothing was perfect at any age. I do the best I can each day, sometimes it hurts a little more, sometimes a little less. I’m fine with where I am now, I’m content. That’s as close to happy as I can imagine.

My Sports Teams

Rah Rah?

Go ahead, BOO and HISS. I don’t root for any team really. Just not into sports, never was, never will be. When I moved to Boston in my young twenties I was lectured on who to root for so I tried to root for the Boston Red Sox and since I got married and we had our children in Boston, that’s the only time I felt somewhat of a connection to a team. I remember going to a professional cocktail party and making the mistake of asking who the Boston Celtics were? Someone almost hit me! So, I learned quickly but sports was never in my blood. Since then, we moved back to our hometown of New York and while here the Yankees rule, I secretly still root for the Red Sox because I do, in a way, feel sorry for them. They seem to choke at the last-minute and who can’t relate to that? I guess I’m for the under-dog…..

Haiku Heights – Tiptoe (Haiku)

Image via Wikipedia

Snow sneaks in softly

on muffled, ballet mice feet

Barely visible.

Mellow Yellow Monday – NEW

Image via Wikipedia

My favorite flower since I was a child: DAFFODILS!!!

I know it’s the first hint of Spring when I see the daffodils sprouting from their winter nesting place. Year after year they pop their heads up from the murky mud to face the sun. There is a field near where I live where the daffodils grow each year and even though I have seen them for fifteen years, I drive that route every single day when they are in bloom. Just seeing them makes me happy. When their season is over I drive by once more to say “goodbye” and “thank you”for the happiness, I hope to see you next year.”

To Comfort Me

It is so harmfully cold outside, the temperatures are low and the winds are high so that it makes me not want to leave the coziness of my house. Recuperating from a nasty bout of bronchitis, yesterday I made my chicken soup, starting in the morning with chicken and onions, a carton of frozen peas, a bag of carrots, pepper flakes, a shake or two of salt and slowly simmering it all day long. Making soup is comforting both when I eat it but also when I prepare it. I’m not sure why; I can bake brownies but it doesn’t have that same calming effect.

Tomorrow, I will go to the grocery store to buy the ingredients to make pea soup: a bag of dried peas in their cozy mesh sack, with pieces of ham steak that I will slice on the diagonal, chopped carrots, celery and onions. There is nothing like comfort than a bowl of  soup on a cold winter night. It’s not as if my mother or grandmother ever made home-made soup when I was a child, actually my mother did make her own chicken soup, I remember that. Maybe my love for soup started there. We also had tomato soup (Campbells) from the can where we would add half a can of water and half a can of milk and we would float a slice or two of Kraft American cheese on top. When we got older we crumbled  those little packets of crackers, Saltines, and we would wind up with a lovely blend of gooey goodness. Mushroom soup too, from Campbells, was always a big hit, made with milk as well.

I will drape a navy blue shawl around my shoulders and sit at the black pearl counter top on a stool by myself. My bowl of soup steaming in front of me, my dog at my feet. The chilliness outside the door forgotten as soon as I settle myself and get the right spoon and the right bowl for my home-made dinner of thick pea soup, made with love. A gift to my family and to myself.

Haiku Heights – Gem

Diamond of the sea

Buried in the grainy sand

A perfect seashell

Tis The Season For Eppiglottitis To Be A Bitch, Again

Oh Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, please let this be a false alarm. My throat IS sore, not tragically sore as in I swallowed a steak knife the last time I WAS hospitalized with Eppiglottitis so I do have a chance,  but just seeing the increase on my old blog “Calling Eppiglottitis  A Bitch Is A Vast Understatement” rise in numbers,  my chances of getting it again are on the rise too. No really. I feel the first signs and I am not happy.

Poor people, write to me right away and tell me if you too have the stabber-sicker -than- death -disease now. Or is it just panic setting in for all of us. This is the first time in a year that I have felt poorly and while I have lost my voice I feel the need to have someone stand nearby with some calming chemical that might or might not be legal near me…..just in case. Last time at one appointment my lovely internist promised me morphine if this should happen to me again. “Drugs,” she promised, “Heavy, duty drugs.” I trust her but I haven’t even gone to see her yet. I feel like I’m playing roulette here. It’s the only time when I feel like a “playa.” Uh-Huh.

Besides, trying to get through to the big medical practice where I go on a Monday morning in the winter is I N S A N E. It really is, you could die and get buried and have a service before they pick up the phone…and I’m not saying they are lazy at all. They are just really, really busy and everyone is trying to call to make that same day appointment, press 2.  As for me, I tried, I really tried and held on for as long as I could manage and then I just hung up. It wasn’t worth it anymore and I was so tired that I gave up and took a really long nap even though there were workers on the roof making essentially painful noises like jack hammering but it was better than being on hold and having some fake secretary voice tell me to “be patient, someone will be answering your call soon.”  That never happened.

I’m holding on for another day, I’m sipping huge quantities of Progresso chicken and dumpling soup and drinking cranberry-pomegranate juice with semi-crushed ice cubes from a blue and white straw and hoping against hope that all this misery will go away in a day or two and it won’t get worse. That for once I can be a “normal” patient and tomorrow I will be all better. It would be nice if the kink in my neck will work itself out and that all my symptoms will go away with no need for a Z-pack or any other kind of antibiotics or cough medicine/ medication. Yeah right.

Tis the season for colds and the flu. Tis the season I always want to move, someplace warm. I mean it. Really, I do.

*****

Next day:

Laryngitis, coughing all night, sore throat still, I made the call, this time it only took me 30 minute to get through. Going in at 4pm. Will post later.

Went to the Dr. and while I saw a Z pack in my future, she saw an Rx for Augmentin in mine. Augmentin. For Bronchitis.

Blech

It’s going to be a really long ten days.

Carry On Tuesday- Come Fly With Me

Image by Al_HikesAZ via Flickr

Come fly with me and let me clutch your hand so that even if I feel the tiniest bit afraid in the beginning, I know you are here for support. We will travel over mountain tops and swoop over canyons as if we were birds soaring easily for food and flight. We have no responsibilities, except to have fun and for adventure to find us and for us to drink it in like wine, the shade of crimson roses. This is the adventure we have waited for, for so many years and we deserve this window of light looking straight out on to the  world. Wherever we go, we have each other, our own constant, for as long as it lasts. The images out of this small window are delightful. Now, we are flying above puffy, springy white clouds, I almost want to leap out through the window to jump on them, with you, my love, still holding on, to my hand.