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By:
Paintgranny,
on 8/19/2016
Blog:
Middle of Nowhere
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This is how the so-called 'herb patch' looked a couple of weeks ago, still with the plug-ugly plastic coated washing line post firmly cemented into the earth. So as the weather had picked up, I did my scorched earth weeding and Joe got to work with Brian-next-door's sledge hammer.
After a long tussle and removing lots of rock debris, we tugged and pulled and shoved and eventually we dragged the monster out. We could just about manage it between us.
Unfortunately, someone DID like the overgrown mess and we found this lovely toad nestling in a pile of bricks. We left her undisturbed, but she vanished overnight. We are hoping that she has found a nearby home.
By the end of the day we had almost cleared everything.
The garden originally came with two little old troughs which were destined to be made into miniature ponds. This is a fairly ordinary cement one, which had been upside down since I moved in over three years ago. I had assumed it was a block of stone until Joe turned it over and discovered the secret.
The previous owner told me that this bigger one was an antique 'pony trough' which came from a nearby town, but then he told so many fibs about the property that I am inclined to take that with a pinch of salt. It is a nice old thing, anyway and had been languishing uselessly in the drive.
The fun part was putting the stones and pebbles in and filling it.
By now it was early evening and the cows had made their way up the field. They seemed curious, but I don't think they cared about our lovely little pond.
The ponds have provided a source of constant amusement. Despite having to empty them and paint them with concrete sealant. Because we didn't realise that the stone could leak. But since then the garden birds have been enjoying the novelty too. Joe has taken quite a few photos. At first the blue tit was the sole bather.
But then a tribe of sparrows moved in and claimed both ponds for their own.
Anyway, to cut this long pond-y story short (forgive the length, neither of us have ever had ponds before), this part of the garden is finally starting to be ours and looking like a proper place. Not a wilderness of weeds.
Today however we have had rain and I went back to proper work, heralding autumn with this little painting, 'Acorn Cottage' which (naturally) is for sale in my other Etsy shop, 'Lost Arcadia'.
So on the hottest day of the year, a couple of weeks ago, we rose at 6.30am, caught a taxi and three trains to the pretty town of Ormskirk, finishing off with a bus journey to Edgehill University campus, where Joe's graduation ceremony was taking place. We were already melting by the time we arrived.
It's a very impressive campus and has a pleasing amount of topiary trees. Around the back of the historic part, the more modern additions are discreetly concealed.
The first item on the agenda was for Joe to get togged out in his graduation robes, before an extraordinary amount of photos and selfies were taken with his colleagues. Me, I stayed in the background and had a crash course in ladies shoe fashion for 2016. A loose count showed that ankle straps are 'in' this year and that 'flesh' (or as I believe it is called, 'nude') is this season's colour. I was in cheap baseball boots. Not being in heels, I was one of the few females on campus able to walk in a straight line.
At last we were able to head off for the ceremony.
After a long wait for everything to be organized, and having the most fidgety child on the planet next to me, it all got rolling with the expected pomp and ceremony; the procession of the University staff in suitably impressive robes and hats, and a fanfare of trumpets. Literally.
After several long speeches, the graduation ceremony itself began. Joe was about third from last, by which time people were a little restless. Having patiently waited for nearly two hours for his moment of glory - the shaking of the chancellor's hand - I had my camera poised, zoomed and in focus.
Then just at the very second of the hand shake, a big bloke in a white shirt came bustling down the aisle stairs behind me and barged right in front of my camera as I was pressing the button. I may have sworn loudly. (OK, I did). So all I managed to get was this...
Then the lovely chancellor made the most interesting speech of the day, cracked a joke about the University board being 'the entire staff of Hogwarts' and everyone waggled their caps in the air. Apparently throwing them up willy nilly is not the done thing anymore.
After a quick go at the buffet, we started our homeward journey. Did I mention it was hot? And so we got a bus, three trains and another taxi back to the cottage. The English countryside quietly sweltered in the sun. The train guard handed out free bottles of water on our last late, overcrowded train, where we stood in the corridor all the way back to Shrewsbury.
We eventually arrived home, flopping and half asleep, at about 8pm and went to bed almost at once. A long day, but one which Joe worked hard for and despite my humorous tone, I was actually very, very proud of him. He is now a fully qualified counsellor.
Last night pizza! The day finally arrived when Joe had completed the course that he has been studying for the last two years. Since we first met, we knew that this day would come, but in the meantime, there has been a constant back and forth between my place, in Shropshire and his place, in Lancashire.
Considering that neither of us drive or has any money to speak of, it has been a bit of a palaver over the last 19 months and yet we somehow managed to spend about two thirds of our time together. Because we needed to. But we have longed for it all to be done and to start our new life. So having passed his course, things were put in motion for him to vacate his flat and move into the cottage.
We had the best kind of 'man and van', who was helpful, friendly and businesslike. In less than twenty minutes we were loaded up at Joe's end and on the road.
Then it it was goodbye to Preston and everything there. Heading home to the Midlands, passing the wind turbines of Cheshire.
Taking a brief foray into Wales and then back into England - hello Shropshire!
Off the main roads and heading down the familiar bumpy lanes leading home.
Almost there, and the Wrekin in the distance. Right at the back, poking it's head in the clouds.The cottage being on a small and busy country road meant that parking was a problem, as it was when Andy and I moved in. So yet again I called on Brian and Jean next door, who moved a car so that we could park up their drive and not get clunked by a tractor.
We unloaded and then began the little procession of humping it all up the lane. Joe and I and the van driver and Brian, of course.
Dumping it in the front yard.
Thankfully there wasn't too much and it was soon inside, if in a considerable muddle. We are now in the process of sorting it all out. But the most important thing is that things are settling down now and our adventure begins.
Yesterday we made a pilgrimage to see Andy's tree. Brian-next-door kindly drove us over, as it is some distance away in the heart of the Shropshire hills. Set in ancient woodland, the South Shropshire Remembrance Park is the most peaceful and tranquil place - beautiful even in the rain. It's been just over three years since Andy's ashes were laid to rest under a silver birch tree sapling. It has grown considerably since them, which considering how tall Andy was, is appropriate. The little glade where his tree is situated is up on a wooded hill. Joe and I made our way there while Brian waited in the car park, to give us some privacy.
I'd brought some things to tidy up with and the first thing I did was to give his stone a good scrubbing, and remove the moss which grows so quickly. On my hands and knees, in the muddy grass, in the rain. Because it is the only and last thing I can do for him. And it still doesn't feel like enough. I don't think it ever will.
We'd brought a bottle of his favourite beer.
Which I poured on his tree roots, with a little salutation to 'the big man'.
It was Joe's first visit and although it was sad, we both found it less painful than anticipated. And will be coming back again, soon.
Then the heavens really opened up to a deluge. We headed back as quickly as possible, to the car, soaked to the skin.
Brian took us home via the 'scenic route'. Little twisty Shropshire lanes, which, as we found, were flash flooded. This is why a 4x4 is useful in the countryside.
With Brian's careful driving, we negotiated the small rivers that covered the lanes for long stretches.
Some readers may wonder how I could take photographs during such a difficult and personal time, and share it so publicly. Well, Andy was always part of this blog. Taking photos, writing about it, and recording it helps me to sort things out in my head and makes it all seem a little less weird and messed up. Just a little.
It didn't seem very golden at first. A chilly grey day with rain threatening. We went into town and went to this little shop, E & J Jewelers, in Shrewsbury, where we have made a few visits before. The owners are lovely. Then across town to The Armoury, a long, low red brick building situated on the side of the river. Where we bought a bottle of decent red wine. Ate exceedingly well and enjoyed fantastic service. The golden day was hidden in a simple wooden box.
My engagement ring. I am not a big fan of gemstones. but I like a bit of classy understatement. So last year, when this was decided, I picked a simple ring of white Welsh gold from the Aur Cymru company. It may be plain, but it was not cheap. The gold is hand panned on private land in Wales and there is precious little of it left. Living so near the England/Wales border, it seemed appropriate.
Only a very few close friends were told. It feels right to share it here first, on this blog, as so many people have seen my ups and downs over the years that it's almost like having a distant, virtual family.
Nobody ever wanted to marry me before and to be honest, I never felt the need. However, after the perilous and messy situation I was left in when Andy died (and without a will, which made the whole nightmare even more grievous) it has taken on a new meaning and importance.
I only intend to do it the once, mind.
Taking a few days off over the holiday season meant some quality time plonked in front of the woodburner with some old board games. I introduced Joe to a childhood favourite, 'Coppit'. My 'vintage' version is, as you can see, a bit the worse for wear, but it is still a great game, even cut-throat - if a board game can said to be such a thing.
Once he got the hang of it (after one game), he won every game after. But I got repeated revenge with Scrabble and didn't gloat too much.
Another old favourite of mine is 'Tell Me' - I've had this game in various versions almost all my life. The two I have now are from the 50's and 60's. The same game, but with slight differences and not just in the box design.
It's a very basic concept; general knowledge questions are read out, the disc is spun and lands on a letter of the alphabet and the first person to call out a correct answer (or one which isn't disputed) wins the card. Winner is the person with the most cards. Although simple, the spinning disc brings in the element of randomness, so the answers are different every time.
The 1960s version is almost like the one I knew in the 70's, with fairly straightforward questions -
'something in this room' 'name of a member of parliament' 'an advertising slogan' (this one is not included in the 50's version; maybe a sign of the times?)
also 'a word used in radio' (very broad and up for debate) 'a means of communication' and a reflection of the growing prevalence of the one-eyed monster in the room, 'a television personality'.
The 50's version has many of the same questions, but also some odd, almost philosophical ones. We played both games, and this one threw up by far the most interesting discussions and verbal tussles. Here are some choice ones -
'What would you like to become?' - which could be anything from 'a better person', to 'a proper grown up' to 'a postman'.
'What or who annoys you most?' - again, a debatable subject, and dependent on the alphabet letter thrown up. And should the answer be silly or truthful? Should you say any answer so long as it fits the letter, or not answer because you honestly can't think of anything which annoys you beginning with 'X'?
'What or who do you love very much?' - same situation really, and we tended towards the silly and soppy.
'What frightens you?' Do we really want to go here? If the letter was the right one for one's honest answer, it could throw up all kinds of deep confessions, but we decided to stick with anything monster-ish or spooky.
'How do you feel at this moment?' Again, this one can lead onto quite interesting discussions and it's then that you realise how something as simple as a board game can be great conversation makers as well as entertainment.
'Something seen on a country ramble' didn't appear in the 1960's version - maybe it was deemed too old fashioned for the time. A bit 'Enid Blyton'.
'A word reading the same forwards or backwards' is very straightforward, but surprisingly tricky to think of at the time and led to a few drawn out silences as we racked our 21st century brains, more used to Google for the answer to anything.
An original owner of the 50's game had obviously decided to put in their own questions - I have a feeling this may have been 'Dad' as the block lettering is very much like my father's and other men's writing of that time. So we have something a little more modern
'A term used in inter-planetary space travel' - this was an ambiguous beast and some confusion reigned as to what kind of thing precisely fitted the question. I swung it with 'asteroid' but it didn't really feel right.
'Name of your favourite TV programme' - again, a more updated question, so maybe this family had a TV of their own. If so, they may have been quite financially comfortable as not many households at that time had them.
The last two seem to have their own little back story. There is -
'A county cricketer, past or present'
and then
'Not a cricketer but a famous sports person'
I wonder if there was a cricket expert in the family, and the last altered question was put in to give the others a chance? We will never know, but I'm sure we had as much fun playing these old-fashioned games as previous generations have.
Berrington, the 'Teddy Bear of Doom' went up for sale in my Etsy shop and someone loved him enough to buy him. I know he's gone to a fabulous home, though I had to help him with the packing. So it's been a good start to the new year for both of us and I send everyone best wishes for 2016.
By:
Paintgranny,
on 12/25/2015
Blog:
Middle of Nowhere
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Joe and I are enjoying our second Christmas together. Yet again it's simply a quiet time; a time of being thankful that we have a roof over our heads, food, logs for the fire and most importantly, each other. Whatever you do at this time of year - and especially if you are alone - we both send you the warmest of best wishes and hope for the future. Because there is always a better place, despite the long haul to get there.
Joe and I managed to get together for a couple of precious days, to celebrate our first anniversary. No champagne or roses, just the pleasure of being with each other. A week later, after a few mysterious hints, a box arrived in the post. It was opened with ceremony, over Skype, twenty first century style.
I was still baffled when I opened the lid. Apparently these have been widely advertised on TV, but I watch very little TV. So imagine (as they say) my surprise. And delight. Rendered, for once, speechless.
A selection of my needle felt creations, printed onto strawberry marshmallows from Boomf! The perfect anniversary present. Of course, I can never eat them. They are too, too precious, in so many ways and not just because my toys are on them. Besides, Sasha has already staked her claim on hers.
A new experience for both of us; coffee and cake is always good, but this takes it to a whole new level.
It is, quite simply, a beautiful experience. Stylishly laid out with comfortable red leather and Art Nouveau décor, Patisserie Valerie was jam packed with all kinds of everyone. And so nice to see the younger generation enjoying proper afternoon tea.
The staff were absolutely charming - friendly, polite and attentive. Despite a short wait, due to the abundance of customers, we were given wonderful service, starting with huge mocha coffees (which were excellent and the right balance of bitter sweetness) and there were many apologies for the short wait.
But the delay was barely noticed, as there was so much gorgeous cakiness to look at and admire. I had asked permission to take photos, which was freely given, and snapped away happily.
Our waiter was charm itself and soon our cakes arrived.
The cake portions are properly generous and almost too exquisite to eat. Joe opted for cheesecake, adorned with a small piece of modern sculpture.
I went with the double chocolate gateau, with a fat, sticky profiterole nestling on top. Both were perfection to look at - and eat. My chocolate paradise was densely cocoa flavoured without being over rich, with a light, moist sponge and a rich, oozing filling. We exchanged forkfuls, but not many words. Cake eating is a serious business.
Afterwards, with happy sighs, we laid down our sticky forks and sat back. It was a complete meal in itself. We watched people coming and going, some queuing for tables, some popping in for take away portions. All the time, there was a constant crowd of people peering in at the window, admiring the pretty display.
We agreed that this has to be a regular event. And best of all, there are not only branches across the UK, but one has recently opened in my patch, Shrewsbury. So there will still be cake at Patisserie Valerie, even when Joe moves down to the cottage.
Sometimes you look forward to something, only to be slightly let down by the actual experience. This exceeded expectation and we are now loyal customers. It only took one cake each and superb customer service.
The last two weeks have been rather full on with work. A deadline for a new needle felt pattern, which is the largest thing I've designed instructions for. And because of a workshop happening up in the middle of that, a lightening 48 hour trip back down to Bampton, to my favourite haunt, Folly Fabrics.
Sharon (lovely shop owner and my host that night) took me on a little scenic walk around the village, where I snapped the 'Downton Abbey' church. Again.
And took touristy photos of pretty cottages and houses. I still miss the Cotswolds, despite loving Shropshire. And despite the fact that I could never afford to live here.
One of the things I miss most, is the combination of mellow light on Cotswold stone, against a darkening sky. It brings out a horribly poignant homesickness. 'The Land of Lost Content' indeed.
The Land of Lost Content
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
A. E. Housman ('A Shopshire Lad')
I am sure that many of us have those places. I do find it painfully ironic that this particular excerpt comes, of course, from A.E Housmans 'A Shropshire Lad' - and that one of my favourite musical collections by Ralph Vaughan Williams is 'On Wenlock Edge' - which I now find almost impossible to listen to.
'On Wenlock Edge' is, as you may know, based around 'A Shropshire Lad'. The real Wenlock Edge - in Shropshire of course - is also close to the ancient green woodlands where Andy rests. All of these interwoven strands combine to make a tangled knot of intense sorrow and melancholia, which I try not to dwell on too much.
So let's not. Let's have a photograph of Sharon taking a photograph of wildflowers. As you do.
She was collecting autumn inspiration colours, and these 'Fox and Cubs' (as I know them) are the most gorgeous fiery blood orange.
That night, a cake was decorated for the workshop. They are always themed to fit whatever we are making.
And there everyone was, the next day, with the usual combination of chatter and concentration.
It's always lovely when people come back to my workshops and this time, four out of the nine places had been taken up by people I'd taught before.
Teatime and the traditional toadstool dance around the cake.
I never cease to feel so rewarded at the end of a session, when everyone has worked hard, ploughed through any difficulties and gone home with something they love.
I returned home to Shropshire that night (via train as usual), a little shattered, to find a box of macarons waiting for me; a present through the post from Joe. So sweet and so pretty; the only thing to do was to Instagram them. And then eat them. And feel lucky that I have a man who sends cake through the post.
The rest of the week was spent getting on with my pattern deadline, which was all business as usual; it will be published by Christmas, and it's my favourite one yet - I can't wait to show it off!
Summer, such as it has been, seems to have flown by. Now the tractors are up and down the lane from dawn till dark, carrying loads of straw and potatoes. Already the fields are being prepared for next year's harvest.
We cycled out spontaneously one morning, when the sun made a joyful appearance, and headed over to Venus Pool to see what was going on in the bird community.
Quite a lot, as it happened. We settled in one of the waterside hides.
The geese were gathering in numbers - flocks of them have been flying over the cottage regularly, heralding the end of summer with their haunting cries. There were the usual Canadian Geese and a crowd of Grey Geese. Keeping their distance, faraway, were three pairs of Cormorants. A dignified Grey Heron mingled in a rather aloof fashion.
I told Joe how Andy always referred to these birds as 'grey greasy fishermen', from the way they seem to slink and slide as they are hunting or flying.
There was one unexpected visitor, a Little White Egret.
Such a pretty thing, delicately picking its way past the waddling, guzzling geese.
It's on the amber list of birds, so this was a good 'spot'.
We headed over to the little woodland hide, where numerous bird feeders attract the smaller birds. Nothing unusual here (though I did once watch a rat squabbling with a pair of ducks). The birds do very well here, with plenty of peanuts provided for the Great Tits and suchlike.
One last glance at Venus Pool, with the Wrekin looming in the background, before heading home to beat the incoming rain.
Autumn is definitely on its way.
Joe spotted an old wasp nest in a muddy bank - I have to admit I walked right past it, thinking it was a disintegrating plastic bag. Exquisite constructions; delicate paper palaces which will gradually dissipate over the season, leaving nothing but a few tiny, desiccated corpses.
We picked blackberries on the way home; our summer has been somewhat mixed and fruit in general is not great this year.
But we foraged enough for a crumble.
True to form, the British summer closed in and as we arrived home, the rain was tumbling in from Wales. This was the view from the garden...before taking cover.
After a good morning of wandering, and with calories to replace, there was home made trifle for lunch. This baby had my own lemon drizzle cake lining the bottom - which gives it a nice zingy cut though the sweetness of cream, jelly and custard. And, of course, hundreds and thousands.
So many thanks for all the kind and lovely comments on my last post. Joe and I were incredibly touched that people were happy for us. Now that I have a real purpose, I've thrown myself back into work with a vengeance, starting the New Year with two little hare brooches in a newish style.
It's good to be making again.
2014 ended with a gorgeous feature in 'Filtz Fun', a popular German felting magazine - they made it all look beautiful, I think the prettiest magazine article of mine I've seen. I do need to update my publicity picture though. 2015 is starting to fill up with workshops - at the moment I have five definite dates, starting in March with a bang at the p-Lush alpaca show in Coventry, where I will be using alpaca wool for the first time ever. The next day I am in Oxfordshire at my regular venue of Folly Fabrics, Smith's Restaurant in Manchester in April and back to the Buckingham Summer School for two full days in August. (Summer, hooray!) More info and contact details can be found on my website. More to be added, with luck.
Many of my lovely friends and readers will know that at the beginning of 2012, soon after moving into our new home - this little cottage from which I write - my beloved partner Andy tragically died. So many of you supported me in those lonely, heartbroken and dark times. Even though I may not have replied to every email or message, their presence helped me work my way through the excruciating period of grief which followed. Thank you seems hardly enough.
I cannot deny that it has been a long, solitary journey since then, despite finding odd fragments of joy. The constant battle to endure the loneliness, the worry of finances and trying as best I can to make some sort of business. For whom? Because life alone for me, is not a life at all. And so this poor blog has been often neglected. I have had little to write about, save work and more work. But now it is a New Year and a fresh beginning for me. And for another person.
Immeasurable joy has danced into my life and I have a reason for living again. A loved one to care for, to cook for and to hold. My bleak life has been transformed and I remember yet again the poem quoted to me in the early days, by a dear friend and soul sister.
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
(Mary Oliver)
At the time, it seemed a horrendous mockery. Now I read it with a sense of blessedness and newly opened eyes. Welcome Joe; welcome to my life, my heart and my many dear friends, wherever in the world they may be.
Continuing the tradition of Phantom Variant covers from the semi-secret Phantom Variant retailer group—as opposed to the totally secret and nonexistent Ghost Variant retailer group—Joe Harris's GREAT PACIFIC #4 will have a Phantom Variant cover by regular artist Martin Morazzo, which is also an homage to the classic Y
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Nothing like John Wayne or like Eastwood , Randolph Sott was different he worn his hat different and even his gun. Was quick with the draw and tough with the talk. And even mention in a Statler brother song. And that most rare in terms of mentioning others in songs. Joe Dimaggio is another in a Simon and Garfunkel song.
Scott was one of those cowboys who made you want to ride a horse. Roger had Trigger the lone Ranger had Silver and Tonto had Scount. But he was also a dramatic actor but very under rated in terms of his era and generation.
Image via Wikipedia
Nothing like John Wayne or like Eastwood , Randolph Sott was different he worn his hat different and even his gun. Was quick with the draw and tough with the talk. And even mention in a Statler brother song. And that most rare in terms of mentioning others in songs. Joe Dimaggio is another in a Simon and Garfunkel song.
Scott was one of those cowboys who made you want to ride a horse. Roger had Trigger the lone Ranger had Silver and Tonto had Scount. But he was also a dramatic actor but very under rated in terms of his era and generation.
Oh, what's that, you say? You didn't notice I was MIA? Can't say I blame you.
Here's the deal: 2009? Hasn't been exactly kind to me and my family. I'm not complaining here; I'm just explaining why I kept disappearing for long chunks of time.
THE SHORT VERSION (no, really - this IS the short version):
January - Went back to teaching at UD for the first time in a year, and more importantly, the first time since my gastric bypass surgery in Sept. 1998. It was winter session, which at the University of Delaware means cramming an entire semester's worth of work into literally five weeks. It was also E110, which is what we call the freshman comp class, and every year I can't understand what possesses a kid to take E110 over winter session. It's kind of a suicide mission, because department guidelines dictate that you have to write a certain number of pages in essay form. Plus, this winter I had a group of largely apathetic kids who took the class because someone told them it was a cake walk. Me: "They lied." Fortunately, I had a couple of really awesome students in the mix, who helped remind me of why I love to teach (thanks, Erin & Kelsey!). Plus, I started teaching adult creative writing classes at the YMCA on Monday nights. So, I went from zero to 99 in like six seconds, and by the end, I was exhausted. Oh, and somewhere in the middle of the month, my dog broke his junk from humping a new stuffed animal my mom had gotten him for Christmas. The running joke was that the bear gave him an STD. The non-joke? The cost of the vet bill and the meds he had to take as a result. One of them was a steroid, which left Scouty eating everything that wasn't nailed down. He also put on two pounds, which for a little guy like him, is a lot. Oy.
February - One of the drawbacks to teaching winter session is that spring semester starts literally right after winter ends. I think I had three days between my last winter class and my first spring one. The good news: I got to teach a fiction writing class for the first time at UD. I wasn't sure what kind of writers I'd end up with, but I have to say - some of the talent in that class really blew me away. There will be published authors (in fact, there already is one - but more on that later). AND my freshmen? So good. Every class discussion was lively, and that makes teaching fun. Plus there were some real characters, like a computer hacker who was super pissed off about the marketing of the "green" movement. So in that way, the semester got off to a great start. On a personal level? My car broked down right before Joe and my mom were going to look at a venue for the wedding reception, and we had to have it towed to the shop. Then, after getting my car back (with a hefty bill), we had to put Joe's car in the shop (another hefty bill). Then, two weeks after we got his car back, it broke down AGAIN, this time requiring a tow (and an even heftier bill). Oh, and our heating oil ran out. So the shortest month of the year ended up being one of our most expensive. Go figure.
March - This was when I really went missing, and here's why: early in March I started to get sick. I'm on a medicine for my psoriasis that lowers my immune system, so sniffles turn into major colds quite quickly. Only, I didn't think to stop taking my psoriasis meds (an injection I give myself every other week). So the cold hung on. Then, the third week in March, I flew to St. Pete's Beach with my friend Wendy, where I was her plus-one for the wedding of her friends Amir and Pepper (her husband hates to fly - as in, even heavily medicated, he can't do it). The beach was awesome, the wedding was beautiful, and I never wanted our mini-break to end. I came home happy, relaxed, sunburned ... and just a wee bit behind on my grading, because I'd been sick the two weeks before we left. Then, to add insult to injury, I got sick AGAIN. Literally, the day after I got back. This time it was flu-like (the non-swine variety, even though I'd gotten my flu shot and even a pneumonia shot like a good girl in the fall). As it got progressively worse, we realized that I had to stop taking the psoriasis meds so I could get better. But by this time, I had a head full of snot and a crazy-high fever of like 102 - so bad that Joe wanted me to go to the hospital. Fun!
April - The cold/flu wore on, and by this time, I'd managed to give it to Joe, who's a typical guy in that he's a pain in the butt when he's sick - a total whining baby. Plus, he refused to take any real time off from work to recover and kept working crazy hours from home. Meanwhile, I'm getting my freshmen prepped for their research papers while still grading their second essays that they turned in while I was in Florida. I had to skip another psoriasis shot, so my feet were cracking like crazy and I was back to the gel bandages to keep my feet workable. I had a couple of speaking gigs at the beginning of the month, while I was still grappling with the flu, one of which was for the Eastern PA's SCBWI mid-winter retreat (an awesome conference - we had such a great time!). But overall, April was NOT a good month at Casa Zeises/de Loza.
May - Things took a turn for the worse. I'd just gotten caught up on my grading and made it through two Mother's Day celebrations - Joe's grandmother on Saturday, where we made a huge brunch for the family, and my mom on Sunday, where we got to see a private screening of the new STAR TREK (thanks, Em!) and had Chinese food. The Monday after, I had a sore knot on the bottom left quadrant of my back, so I thought I'd go to the gym and workout, thinking that would loosen my muscles up. BIG MISTAKE. Afterward, as I got back into the car, I knew something was wrong, because it hurt. Like, bad. I won't go into major detail, but let's just say that by mid-week, I was crying every time I had to put on pants or go to the bathroom. Meanwhile, the dog somehow broke his junk AGAIN (this time, we're not sure how, because we'd confiscated all humpable toys), and that ran us another $200. This in the middle of the back injury pain, which by the end of the week was so excruciating that our doctor sent us to the ER. And because Christiana Hospital was still reeling from the swine flu epidemic, we actually got chastised for going to the ER. So the next day we ended up in St. Francis's ER, where we actually got some care. Within a couple of days, I was back to walking again. Which was great. But of course, that's when we found out about Pop.
Pop is Joe's grandfather, who along with his grandmother, helped raise him after his mom passed away when Joe was 12. So he was more like a dad to Joe than anything. And we'd just seen him Mother's Day weekend, and he was making all of these plans with us, like to go see the new Harry Potter movie, and to go to the Poconos over 4th of July weekend, and to go to the shore with them in early September. When we said goodbye, we didn't realize it would be the last time we'd see him. Pop passed away rather unexpectedly - we're pretty sure it was a heart attack - the Thursday before Memorial Day weekend. Needless to say, this was a very devastating time, and not just for Joe. I'd only known Pop for a couple of years, but his death hit me hard. Plus, watching Joe and his family grieve was excruciating. It's always hard to see the ones you love in so much pain. We spent the next 10 days shuttling around to Bethlehem and back. In the middle of this, my stepfather's uncle lost his long battle with cancer. My semester at UD was wrapping up, and through all of this I was trying to grade research papers and magazine projects and writing portfolios. The Sunday after Pop's memorial service, I pulled two 14-hour marathon grading sessions, so by Tuesday (this would be last Tuesday, the beginning of June) I was crispy fried.
June - Both Joe and I were struggling to find normalcy in our lives, and in doing so, we completely forgot our two-year anniversary. What a wake up call. I spent all of last week running expensive errands, like the three-hour trip to the Saturn dealership that cost $420. Joe was pulling some marathon work sessions of his own, so that he could take a much-needed vacation. Between last Thursday and Friday he worked 36 hours straight, with no sleep, and finally started his vacation around 8 p.m. Friday night.
So, there you have it. Now Joe's on vacay - our "staycation," I keep calling it, because I often like trendy buzz words and am still annoyed that we can't find a Brangelina type nickname for ourselves (Loe? Jara?). But it's hard. Between my back injury and losing Pop and both of us overdoing it on the work front, we're barely treading water. Joe spent the weekend writing a computer program for himself, and I spent it glued to HARVEST MOON on the Wii. There was a short stint Saturday night where the two of us performed surgery through TRAUMA CENTER: NEW BLOOD, but for the most part, we've been trying to process on our own.
And now, because I can't stand to end this post on a sad note, I figured I'd recap some of the good stuff that's happened:
- Joe made my January birthday super special this year, and without spending much money;
- We had the awesomest Valentine's Day ever, starting with getting a family portrait with Scout at Petco, followed by Scrabble in front of the fireplace at Panera, and finishing with an entire weekend of gourmet cooking;
- In March, the Lifetime adaptation of TRUE CONFESSIONS OF A HOLLYWOOD STARLET came out on DVD;
- We booked the Fair Hill Inn for our wedding reception, which is a dream come true AND will cost several thousand less than what the wedding factories wanted to charge us;
- There was that whole trip to Florida thing, which was so so so so so much fun, and the great SCBWI conference experience;
- My best friend gave birth to a healthy baby boy at the beginning of April, and he's not only adorable, but he's given us MAJOR baby fever;
- When I was recovering from the flu, I watched the entire third season of FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS on DVR, and it was so good it warrants its own line here;
- Six words: PRIVATE VIEWING OF STAR TREK ROCKED. (Did I mention that Emmett's wife made cupcakes frosted in the colors of the original TV show's uniforms, with flavored cake to match? She's so freaking cool.);
- My friend Cindy sold her first book (we met during the very first round of adult creative writing classes I taught at the Y), and Cassie, from my fiction writing class at UD, just had one of her workshopped stories accepted into an anthology;
- I've lost a total of 145 pounds (and no, I don't have new progress pictures, because we took the last round when I got back from aerobics and I'm all red and sweaty and ugly, but we're planning on doing more soon);
- and finally, I got my first review for THE SWEET LIFE OF STELLA MADISON, which I posted last week, and it was good and gives me hope that this book - the first book I've published under my own name in almost four years - will do well.
There are other moments, smaller moments, private moments, sweeter moments, etc., but you get the gist.
Today is Monday, which means the beginning of a new week. My semester is totally wrapped up, and Joe's got the next seven days completely OFF. So again, I'm feeling hopeful. Which is always a good thing.
See you tomorrow!
ME: (hearing the opening notes to "Hey Ya!" on the radio) Ohmigod, I love this song! (turns radio up)
JOE:
ME: (sporting the scrunched-up face of confusion) Wait, what is this? Is this, like, the Foo Fighters? This is a really bad cover.
JOE: Who would cover the Foo Fighters?
ME: No, no - the song is by Outkast. But it sounds like the Foo Fighters covering it. Or some band that wants to be the Foo Fighters. God, it's really bad.
JOE:
ME: I'm serious - this hurts.
JOE: What hurts?
ME: This song.
JOE:
ME: Like, try to imagine if ... I don't know. If Britney Spears covered your favorite Korn song.
JOE:
ME: Well, actually, that might be kind of funny.
JOE: Maybe Britney Spears covering "Imagine."
ME: Oh, gawd.
JOE: "Oops, I imagined again..."
ME: You do realize I'm going to end up posting this conversation in my blog later, right?
*Obviously not an exact transcription, except for the parts about Britney Spears - that's pretty much verbatim.
So, if I had to give last week a title, it would've been A Series of Unfortunate Events. It started with the whole running out of home heating oil and Monday, continued with my car breaking down only minutes before we were supposed to meet with a potential wedding caterer on Wednesday, and culminated in Joe's car breaking down the very next day - with a whole lot of messy family drama and minor-league trauma in between (nothing I want to go into - but suffice it to say, it was a VERY bad, bad week).
Here's an example: Thursday night, Joe and I baked our traditional Valentine's Day red velvet cupcakes with white chocolate cream cheese frosting. The cupcake part was fine - they came out REALLY red and tasted divine. But when we went to do the frosting, we realized we'd left the cream cheese out too long and it somehow got rancid in our 67 degree house. We were also planning on using leftover white chocolate chips, instead of buying bars, for the frosting, but chips have a stabilizer in them that don't let them melt the way bars or chunks do. So we wasted 3 cups of powdered sugar trying to turn rancid cream cheese and unmelty chips into frosting. Which meant that Joe had to run out to the grocery store after midnight to buy replacement cream cheese, chocolate bars, and powdered sugar. This after two earlier stops at the store for ingredients we neglected to stock ahead of time.
(The sweat equity was worth it, though. The cupcakes are always a huge hit, and this year when I was frosting them I had the brilliant idea of skipping swirls and instead piping a white chocolate heart on top. It was beyond precious.)
So then Saturday was Valentine's Day, and the icky turned into de lovely. We started the morning by topping some Trader Joe's whole grain french toast with bruleed bananas, then groomed the dog and took him over to PetCo (where the pets go) for a $6 family portrait. After that, Joe and I got haircuts (one of those quick, cheapy places over by Shoprite) and then hit up GameStop, where Joe proceeded to convince me that we needed several games for the Wii. This after $1,100 in home heating oil and car repairs. I relented, though, because he got a nice little bonus at work and the week before was putting in 14-hour days trying to make headway on some projects. One of the things he picked up was actually my Valentine's Day gift - My Fitness Coach for the Wii. I'd had the Xbox version when I was staying with my parents, saving up for the house, and really loved it. We also put a $5 pre-order depost on EA Sports Active, which looks so freaking cool that I can hardly stand it.
Afterward, we grabbed our Scrabble board and headed to Panera, where we snagged - and I still can't believe our luck - the two leather club chairs in front of the fireplace. We spent the next two hours playing Scrabble in front of the fire, sipping hot Chai and soliciting tons of "awws" from people who walked by or sat near us. It was so cozy, and so romantic, and so very us.
Back at home, we started to prep the very elaborate Valentine's Day feast we'd planned. The first course was to be Ina Garten's shrimp bisque. The recipe calls for seafood stock, but since I couldn't find that, I went with Better Than Bullion's Lobster Base. Oh. My. GOD. It was a disaster. The bullion was super salty, and I made the rookie mistake of NOT TASTING IT before adding the two teaspoons of salt the recipe called for. (In my head, I could hear Tom Collichio chastizing me for not tasting my food.) We tried everything we could to rescue the bisque - adding more tomato paste, adding more cayenne, adding more roux-thickened half and half ... finally we realized we were going to have to pick up more shrimp and add more leeks to make it palatable, and put the soup away for the next day. Then Joe started having stomach cramps, so we decided to postpone the entire romantical feast for Sunday.
The next day, I made us blueberry-and-Greek-yogurt smoothies before we hit the gym. Then it was off to Shoprite to pick up more shrimp. We came home to an odd-looking poop from the dog. There was a thing sticking out of it that resembled a giant earthworm. We scooped the sample and put it in a bag, put the bag in a Tupperware container, and put the container in another bag before popping it into the fridge. Then we spent the next hour Googling intestinal parasites to see if we could identify what it was that came out Skitty's body. Joe was so creeped out he didn't even want the dog kissing him. It was ... yeah, not good.
After we recovered from the "ew" factor, we headed into the kitchen. We sauteed an extra leek and the new pound of shrimp before pureeing it and adding it to the super-salty bisque. It tamed the flavor some, but not enough so that I could enjoy it. I had a very small portion before deciding my tummy still couldn't handle it. Such a disappointment! Expensive ingredients + lots of labor should = yumminess, right? I was afeared that our Weekend of Loveliness was morphing into A Series of Unfortunate Events, Take II.
But then Joe saved the day by making Alton Brown's chocolate mousse - my absolute favorite dessert - and it was AMAZERFUL.
Soup + mousse = full tummies, so we postponed the Valentine's Day Feast yet again. Which meant that Monday morning's breakfast consisted of a petite filet mignon (that we butchered ourselves, I might add), accompanied by sauteed mushrooms and topped with a homemade blue cheese chive sauce and a fried egg. I could only get through half of my filet, but even so, it was ... decadent.
A quick trip to the vet revealed that Scouty's foreign object was not, in fact, a giant mutant Earthworm, but something resembling waxed paper. Suddenly it dawned on us that while we were out on Saturday, a spurned Scout most likely raided a trash can, fished out a cupcake wrapper, and promptly swallowed it. Even though I was annoyed at the dog for trash munching, just knowing that he was okay and not infested with mutant worms brought such a sense of relief. The rest of the day was spent catching up on work and chores, and after I taught my final creative writing class of this session at the Y, I came home to help Joe finish off this totally scrumptious Curry Cauliflower Soup and a batch of Lavendar Blueberry Muffins for breakfast the next day. The latter recipe came from Recipes for Life After Weight-Loss Surgery, which my mom got me for Christmas, and they, too, were super yummy. You make them with oat flour, yogurt, and unsweetened applesauce, so not only do they taste awesome, but they're also really good for you. We used plain Greek yogurt instead of the traditional kind, so the muffins pack even more protein.
After we cleaned up the kitchen for the upteenth time, we took the dog out and ruminated on how much we'd actually cooked in the past five days. Out of everything, we only had one unmitigated disaster (the first batch of cupcake frosting) and one minor one (the too-salty shrimp bisque). Which isn't bad, considering everything that came out perfectly, including our home-butchered filet.
And now I just realized that I've written a novel here, AND that it's already 9:15 a.m., so I better wrap up.
Hope everyone had a loverly long weekend and a happy kicky sticky sweet V-Day!
By: Rebecca,
on 10/6/2008
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Elvin Lim is Assistant Professor of Government at Wesleyan University and author of The 
Anti-intellectual Presidency, which draws on interviews with more than 40 presidential speechwriters to investigate this relentless qualitative decline, over the course of 200 years, in our presidents’ ability to communicate with the public. He also blogs at www.elvinlim.com. In the article below he reflects on last week’s vice-presidential debate. Read his previous OUPblogs here.
Obama supporters were surprised that Sarah Palin didn’t trip up in her debate with Joe Biden; but they nevertheless thought that she was incoherent through most of it. Palin’s supporters were thrilled that she came back after multiple setbacks with her interviews with Katie Couric with a slam dunk. We have become so divided as a nation that we can’t even agree on which is night and which is day.
The reason, I think, is because Sarah Palin did not answer Gwen Ifill’s questions. When a student refuses to take a test, we cannot meaningfully compare her performance with another.
Right at the outset of the debate, Palin announced her contempt for the debate format: “I may not answer the questions that either the moderator or you want to hear, but I’m going to talk straight to the American people and let them know my track record also.” Palin’s opponents cried foul, but her supporters applauded her contempt of the media and Washington’s rules.
Here was Gwen Ifill’s first question: “The House of Representatives this week passed a bill, a big bailout bill … was this the worst of Washington or the best of Washington that we saw play out?”
This was Palin’s first non-answer: “You know, I think a good barometer here, as we try to figure out has this been a good time or a bad time in America’s economy, is go to a kid’s soccer game on Saturday, and turn to any parent there on the sideline and ask them, “How are you feeling about the economy?”
Biden did a classic debate pivot, but he did try to answer the question, saying “I think it’s neither the best or worst of Washington, but it’s evidence of the fact that the economic policies of the last eight years have been the worst economic policies we’ve ever had.”
Consider Ifil’s third question: “Governor, please if you want to respond to what he (Biden) said about Sen. McCain’s comments about health care?” and Palin’s petulant non-reply “I would like to respond about the tax increases.”
Or Ifill’s seventh question: “What promises have you and your campaigns made to the American people that you’re not going to be able to keep?” Sarah Palin tried her hand at the pivot trick too: “I want to go back to the energy plan, though, because this is — this is an important one that Barack Obama, he voted for in ‘05.” By pivot I mean, tangent.
In her closing statement, Palin again made clear where her priorities were. “I like being able to answer these tough questions without the filter, even, of the mainstream media kind of telling viewers what they’ve just heard. I’d rather be able to just speak to the American people like we just did.” Speak to the American people she did, but answer these tough questions she did not.
We should stop pretending that debates really happen in American politics; even the four organized by the Commission on Presidential Debates no longer qualify. Masquerading for debate, all we get are solipsistic televised addresses delivered to us in alternating segments. Last Thursday, Gwen Ifill was little more than a two-minute time keeper with no control of how Biden and especially Palin used their time.
Let us remember why we care for debates. Because meaningful exchanges between alternative voices stand at the heart of democracy. By controlling for question, we can see how candidates measure up to each other substantively. Instead, American politics today is deluged by speeches and not debates, asymmetric communications in which politicians talk past each other rather than to each other.
Avoiding the questions and eschewing a debate may be good for a candidate but it is bad for democracy. And we should not allow Sarah Palin or any other candidate to tell us that democracy is only about connecting with people and not also debating the issues. Only demagogues insist on trading directly with the people without the watchful eye - Palin calls it the “filter” - of the media or a dissenting interlocutor. Democracy is best served by reciprocity and deliberation, not one-sided assertions to one’s base with no follow-up questions.
While Palin connected last Thursday, she hardly debated. As supporter Michelle Malkin revealingly put it: “She was warm, fresh, funny, confident, energetic, personable, relentless, and on message.” Seven ayes for style, an aye for substance, and nay to debate. The nays have it.
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By: Rebecca,
on 9/9/2008
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Elvin Lim is Assistant Professor of Government at Wesleyan University and author of The Anti-intellectual Presidency, which draws on interviews with more than 40 presidential speechwriters to investigate this relentless qualitative decline, over the course of 200 years, in our presidents’ ability to communicate with the public. He also blogs at www.elvinlim.com. In the article below he Palin’s nomination. Read his previous OUPblogs here.
John McCain’s campaign has turned a 7 point deficit into a 4 point lead according to the new USA Today/Gallup poll. This post-convention bump did not come from McCain’s acceptance speech, which only received an “excellent” rating from 15% of those polled, compared to the 35% Obama received. The bump came from Sarah Palin. Here is the poll’s most important result: before the convention, Republicans by 47%-39% were less enthusiastic than usual about voting. Now, they are more enthusiastic by 60%-19%.
The new McCain campaign message is that change is about reforming Washington, aided in no small part by a Number 2 that has developed/created quite a reputation for reform. This new configuration appears to be overshadowing Obama’s definition that change requires a change in party control of the White House, because it has tapped into the anti-Washington sentiment felt among the Republican base.
Palin is running not as the back-up plan (as most vp candidates have), but as right-hand woman, and this is why Barack Obama took the risk of appearing unpresidential today by attacking Sara Palin directly himself. But Obama’s response - “You can’t just make stuff up” - sounded like a petulant kid crying foul rather than an effective counter-punch. As the campaign fumbles for a working riposte, it will become clear that the answer was always right before their eyes. By an ironic twist of fate, Hillary Clinton, though unsuccessful in her own presidential bid, has become the queen and kingmaker. Sarah Palin would not have risen from political obscurity into national prominence but for the schism generated by Clinton’s candidacy within the Democratic party. Yet Joe Biden cannot perform the role of attack dog as viscerally as he would if Palin were a man, and so ironically, Clinton will have to be dispatched to play this traditionally vice-presidential role. The question is whether the media will give Clinton the time of day now that the primary season is decidedly over.
Safe for the October surprise still to be discovered, the tectonics of the match-up are now mostly settled. With the VPs now selected, two previously toss-up states have moved into the “leaning” category: PA has moved in Obama’s direction because of Biden, and MO has moved in McCain’s direction because of Palin. The only vice-presidential debate sceduled on Oct 2 will be more critical than the first of three presidential debates on September 26. There’s been a lot of talk of Gallup polls conducted immediately after the conventions only getting it right fifty percent of the time, but less acknowledged is the fact that by the first week of October - the week the vp candidates shall debate - these polls have gotten it right almost every time since 1952. On October 2, Biden and Palin will have their one chance to get it right for their respective campaigns.
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By: Rebecca,
on 8/25/2008
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Elvin Lim is Assistant Professor of Government at Wesleyan University and author of The Anti-intellectual Presidency, which draws on interviews with more than 40 presidential speechwriters to investigate this relentless qualitative decline, over the course of 200 years, in our presidents’ ability to communicate with the public. He also blogs at www.elvinlim.com. In the article below he looks at Senator Barack Obama. Read his previous OUPblogs here.
The talk of town these days is that Senator Barack Obama is either just too cerebral, or refreshingly so.
Assessing the Senator’s weak performance at the Saddleback Faith Forum, Michael Gerson wrote in the Washington Post, “Obama was fluent, cool and cerebral — the qualities that made Adlai Stevenson interesting but did not make him president. ” Yet to others, cerebral is good. “Obama’s cool, cerebral style may be just what we need,” wrote Eleanor Clift of Newsweek.
It has occurred to me that people who agree or disagree with my thesis about The Anti-intellectual Presidency have tended to be divided on the question of whether or not a president’s political judgment should be based on intellection or intuition. This division may appear to some to map crudely along partisan lines: some liberals and Democrats tend to value reliance on the intellect; some conservatives and Republicans prioritize instinct. I think there is more agreement than meets the eye.
Insofar as there is a partisan disagreement, populist Republicans are probably right that as a general political rule, visceral trumps cerebral. The Obama campaign is starting to recognize this, with their choice of vice-presidential candidate Joe Biden, someone who speaks with passion and sometimes, apparently, without much prior thought.
But I don’t think many people are against intellection as a method for decision-making. It is surely a strawman argument that President Bush does no thinking and that Karl Rove was the brain behind his decisions. The key is that Bush pulls off the semblance of intellectual diffidence, even though he must do a lot of thinking behind the scenes. Like others have said of President Dwight Eisenhower, President Bush has mastered the highest political art that conceals art itself.
Now, there is still an argument to be made for judgment to be based on intuition rather than intellection, but it is a weak one. “Go with your gut” may be a familiar refrain, but even if intuition is less error-prone than intellection, there is one reason that recommends against its excessive use. Intuition is non-falsifiable. No one can prove what he feels in his or her gut. So when President Bush told us that he looked into Vladamir Putin’s eyes and saw a soul, we could only take his word for it that he saw what he saw. We couldn’t test the claim; we couldn’t even debate it. This can’t be what democracy is about, because democracy is conducted with the deliberation of public reasons, not the unilateral assertion of private emotions.
If I am correct, then no one disagrees with the importance of intellection as a decision-making method, even as there is disagreement on the political utility of projecting or hiding such intellection. The disagreement is about the image, but we can scarcely deny the importance of the process of intellection. Because they have failed to make this distinction between image and process, those who disagree with the appearance of intellection have also wrongly concluded that the process of intellection should have no place in leadership.
Anti-intellectualism is politically powerful, but it is in the end self-defeating. Suppose I feel in my gut that intellection is key to decision-making. How will someone who disagrees with my gut instinct prove my intuition wrong? Only by argument, debate, intellection.
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Sarah Palin actually has a music video called “Bridge to Nowhere” here:
http://www.mydamnchannel.com/Harry_Shearer/Music_Videos/PalinBridgeToNowhere_934.aspx
What can you expect from her?She just stood there and read her script.
“She just stood there and read her script.” Oh? And Biden was better? My problem with those who are criticizing Palin is that they are *totally blind* to the exact same faults in Biden and Obama.
Palin is “dumb”–but Biden can say that FDR was president in 1929 and on TV talking about the depression–and none of the Palin critics think anything about it.
Obama says that he has campaigned in 57 states, and calls Penn State fans “Nittley Lions”–but not a word is said about these idiotic comments by any of you who are attacking Palin.
Your criticisms of Palin will not be legitimate until you are able to also apply the same standards fairly to Biden and Obama. When you criticize their mistakes and dumb remarks as much and as strongly as you criticize Palin’s mistakes, then people will listen to you.
Until then, you have no right to say anything critical abouot Sarah Palin.
Timothy - the reason why we don’t jump on Biden talking about FDR is because nobody, not even those who dislike him, can reasonably argue it was anything more than a slip of the tongue or a simple mistake. Ditto Obama’s gaffs - Gaffs they were, but it’s hard to argue the man doesn’t know how many states there are. Palin’s done absolutely nothing to convince us that the mind-boggling tripe that’s come out of her mouth is anything but a fundamental lack of experience, knowledge, and competence that utterly disqualifies her from meaningful public office.