Wednesday, December 23, 2009

P.S. This Just In

I got the fancy, downtown publishing job.

Thank heavens. Literally.

A Two-Year-Old Deja Wishes You Well

Merry Christmas, all. Sam and I are in Tucson with the sunshine (!) and his sweet family. Last year I was suspicious of cacti with christmas lights on them. This year, I love them.

And this little girl loves you. I'm the cute, small, flirting one.
Merry day!



(sorry for small image. no idea why that's so. click on it?)

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Sigh

I'm sitting in an empty classroom. It was the last session of my evening class and my students' final exams are in a stack in front of me.

Also in front of me is a Christmas card from a sweet student. Inside she said I was a good teacher, a helpful teacher. She thanked me.

And maybe she does this for every teacher. Maybe she's just a nice kid. But it's making me weep. I have three days left of teaching and I'm weeping about it.

I want to leave the school with all my heart. It's the right thing to do. It's a toxic, insane department.

But I'll miss my students. I'll miss teaching. I'll miss.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

How to Drink a Cookie

In regards to my long-standing quest to not eat a cookie, I submit the following successful, harmless substitution:



I'm back to not eating sugar. I stopped eating treats of my own awhile ago, but I'd been having bites of Sam's sweet treats here and there, thinking bite-shmite, but I'm over that. Last night, at Cheesecake Factory, Sam got a slice of, well, cheesecake. And I took not a bite. Not. A. Bite. And you know? I didn't even want to. I could clearly remember the way it coats the mouth, how it churns in my stomach most uncomfortably, how my head hurts instantly from the sugar.

What have I had instead? Herb tea (like the sort above, or mint, which is my handsdown favorite) makes a remarkably excellent substitution for sweets; baked apples with cinammon and a little stevia; chocolate "milkshakes" made from almond milk, cacao powder, a bit of cashew butter, frozen banana, and stevia (Sam loves the milkshakes, too. They're goooood.), etc. No splenda. No sir. I'll do stevia, agave, date sugar, honey and maple syrup on occasion.

Oh! Oh! While we're talking food, my new favorite breakfast is as follows: oatmeal or steel cut oats cooked in the rice cooker with half almond milk/half water, a cut-up apple, a load of cinammon, and a touch of stevia. The apple gets all cooked and lovely. I top it with some almond butter for protein. If there's some left over, I put the rice cooker in the fridge and eat it cold as a snack when I come home from work. And, it's good. Oh it's good.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Vote a Coat!

The zipper broke on my new winter coat, so I took it back. They gave me money. Amd now I need a new coat. I want a prrrrettty one. I've spent much too long online but I think I've narrowed to these three. Please to tell girl which one to purchase? Also, which color? Coats one and three only come in grey, but coat two I could get in that there purple shade. Am I brave enough for a purple coat? Do tell.

Additional notes: I sort of adore the big buttons on coat one, and the neck seems warm, and I can make it smaller on the back (if need be, heaven help me). Coat two just seems lovely, but I'm not quite as into the buttons, but the swishy back! Oh pretty! And it would be long and warmie, too. I like coat three, and it seems perhaps the most classic, but I'm worried I'd look like a semi-fancy sack of beans.

I leave it to you. My winter life is in your hands.

Coat One (only available in grey)




Coat 2 (available in grey or "deep plum")




Coat 3 (only available in grey)

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Ear Bones

I have an ear canal infection. I find this odd. And painful.

I think this is how it happened: A few weeks ago, I took a bath before bed. Then, because there was some snoring up in here, I wore some ear plugs--that smooshy silicon kind.

The doctor said this weird bacteria only grows in dark, damp places, and I think the combination of the bath and the plugs sort of sealed the deal, literally. Ha.

I don't want to think of how this bacteria got in there in the first place. My house is clean as a whistle, honest.

My ear started to feel funny after that night, but I just thought I had done the ear plugs wrong. I always do the earplugs wrong. You know how you're not supposed to shove them in there? I have no idea how they would work without a little shoving. I mean, I've tried the seal-it-off approach, but it don't do no good. And so I shove, and then it gives me a headache, and I wake up feeling like I'm underwater, and it's not pleasant.

Anyway, so the next day, when it felt unpleasant even after I had taken the little suckers out, I thought I had just stretched my ear bones. I mean, I don't know anything about ear bones except that they're tiny and delicate and funny-shaped, and I just assumed that I had hurt them when I shoved. And I was afraid to go to a doctor because they'd just tell me I was an idiot to shove and to stop shoving because I was hurting my ear bones. I hate it when I'm a dummy. I have nightmares about people telling me I'm a dummy.

Meanwhile, driving in the car, sitting on my couch, teaching, eating, everything I did, I could feel these ear bones sort of tugging on me, aching. I had fantasies about cutting my ear off, but then I'd think of Van Gogh, and realize I didn't have anyone to give my ear to except Sam, and he wouldn't want it.

Finally, on Saturday, after cleaning my house with my iPod earbuds in, my ear was becoming increasingly less friendly. I thought, again, this was because my little earbuds had stretched my bones, but I was also beginning to suspect that was a pretty stupid theory.

And so we got in the car and drove over to Urgent Care in Cambridge. It was a windy day, and on the way there, sitting at a stoplight, we watched all of these brown leaves blow down the street, turning corners in unison, flipping and skipping along with what seemed like precision, as if they had a destination, a little specific spot in the universe that was waiting for them. I suppose they did.

After three hours at the doctor, a woman who looked like a cross between a forty-year-old and a four-year-old told me about the bacteria and the safe, dark, damp place that is my ear canal. I sat in a creepy dentisty chair the color of rotten Pepto Bismal while she wrote up a prescription of incredibly expensive white drops to put in my ear.

Now, every morning and night, I take my glasses off and press my left ear to the couch and Sam drips the cold white drops into my right ear. Drip. Drip. Dripdripdrip. And then it gets so full it sort of closes up, and I feel like I'm swimming, and I pretend I am swimming, looking at my house sideways. My cats come up to sniff the white pool in my ear, and I watch the corner of a blanket and the lens of my glasses, and Sam's tall legs walking around our little living room.

I don't think my ear bones were involved at all, but I keep thinking of them, how small they are and delicate. How their names are beautiful and odd: malleaus, incus, and stapes.