this afternoon i have
- chewed on cough drops
- gone to the bakery and farmer's market
- made and eaten a salad
- gone to the pharmacy
- rubbed vix on my chest
- guzzled cough syrup
- drank lemon and honey and chamomile tea
- gotten into cozy pj's
- snuggled into the couch
- missed my mommy
Monday, June 28, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Duchess of Bloomsbury
"The night before I left, two friends gave me a farewell party. I'd spent the day packing to the indignant fury of all my vital organs and I left the party early and was in bed and asleep by midnight. At 3:00 AM, I came staring awake, with my insides slamming around and a voice inside my head demanding:
'What are you doing, going three thousand miles from home by yourself, you're not even HEALTHY!'
I got out of bed, had hysterics, a martini and two cigarettes, got back in bed, and whiled away the rest of the night composing cables saying I wasn't coming"
- The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, 10
Helene Hanff does make it out of bed and on a plane to London the next day. As we all eventually do. I am always excited about going somewhere until, proportionally, close to the actual leaving date. So for instance, if I'm planning to spend the night at a friend's place, I wonder if I shouldn't stay home just as I'm pulling out of the driveway. On a trip to the other side of an ocean, the doubts start setting in a day or two before. I get nervous; not about what I will do when I get there, so much as wondering if I'll ever see anyone I love ever again. When I say goodbye, I make sure to say everything that needs to be said. Essentially, I spend the a couple of days mourning the life I won't have if I die in the next few weeks.
Once I'm in the airport, past security, then I settle back into my usual youngest-child philosophy of not worrying overly much. And, after all, its all worked out so far, right?
'What are you doing, going three thousand miles from home by yourself, you're not even HEALTHY!'
I got out of bed, had hysterics, a martini and two cigarettes, got back in bed, and whiled away the rest of the night composing cables saying I wasn't coming"
- The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, 10
Helene Hanff does make it out of bed and on a plane to London the next day. As we all eventually do. I am always excited about going somewhere until, proportionally, close to the actual leaving date. So for instance, if I'm planning to spend the night at a friend's place, I wonder if I shouldn't stay home just as I'm pulling out of the driveway. On a trip to the other side of an ocean, the doubts start setting in a day or two before. I get nervous; not about what I will do when I get there, so much as wondering if I'll ever see anyone I love ever again. When I say goodbye, I make sure to say everything that needs to be said. Essentially, I spend the a couple of days mourning the life I won't have if I die in the next few weeks.
Once I'm in the airport, past security, then I settle back into my usual youngest-child philosophy of not worrying overly much. And, after all, its all worked out so far, right?
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
... or bust
I totally forgot that now that I'm in a respectable job, I get paid vacation!
Patagonia, Here I Come!!!!!!
Patagonia, Here I Come!!!!!!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
of imbecility
Customer #1: “Are we allowed to sit outside?
Answer #1: “Only with a written permission slip. In pink.
Answer #2: “Yes, that’s what the tables are there for “
I can only laugh. Sometimes I don’t know if people are really that asinine or if they are just looking for attention. The customer above was a younger man with a cheeky if slightly confused smile; not the usual demographic for battiness.
However, sometimes I just don’t have enough grace to conclude that they are anything but a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
The other day at Wendel’s bookstore a lady comes in:
Lady: “Do you know anyone with books?”
Me: Stare blankly at all the bookshelves surrounding her.
Lady: “You know, someone that takes books?”
Me: “Um….we take books from publishers?”
Lady: “No, you know, that takes my books?”
Me: No, this isn’t a second hand bookstore. There is one in Langley though” (give her directions)
Lady: “would they buy this book?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What are their business hours?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “Do they take hardcover?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What’s the owner’s name?”
Answer #1: “The owner’s name is Charlie Chaplin, they only take books written between 1920 and 1925, and they will only sell books to people with pink or purple hair and they are open between midnight and 4am but you look daft enough to be an excellent customer!
Answer #2: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Another lady:
Her: “Do you take Amex?”
Me: “No, we take everything but that”
Her: “Then I don’t suppose you take debit?”
Answer #1: Sure I can do that.
Answer #2: Only if you can show me ID proving that you are not a runaway from a mental institution.
At the office, during the peak of the H1N1 panic, I answered a call from an obviously frazzled woman:
Lady: My son has been sick for a month and its just dreadful.
Me: I’m sorry, that must be difficult for you.
Lady: Well yes, and I went to the doctor and he told me that its not the swine flue.
Me: That must be a relief.
Lady: well, I just don’t know. He’s been sick for a month and I just thought maybe you could tell me if he has the swine flue?
Me: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Lady: Well, I was just looking for a second opinion.
Answer #1: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Answer #2: “My opinion, lady, is that if you think that the first person that answer’s the phone at your local mp’s office is qualified to give you a medical opinon contradicting your family doctor, then perhaps what your son is suffering from is simply the culling of a strand of DNA not fit (or deserving enough)to survive in this world. Cut your losses and let your line fade from the gene pool in peace.
I can assure you that whichever answer i did not give was the one I most wanted to.
Answer #1: “Only with a written permission slip. In pink.
Answer #2: “Yes, that’s what the tables are there for “
I can only laugh. Sometimes I don’t know if people are really that asinine or if they are just looking for attention. The customer above was a younger man with a cheeky if slightly confused smile; not the usual demographic for battiness.
However, sometimes I just don’t have enough grace to conclude that they are anything but a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
The other day at Wendel’s bookstore a lady comes in:
Lady: “Do you know anyone with books?”
Me: Stare blankly at all the bookshelves surrounding her.
Lady: “You know, someone that takes books?”
Me: “Um….we take books from publishers?”
Lady: “No, you know, that takes my books?”
Me: No, this isn’t a second hand bookstore. There is one in Langley though” (give her directions)
Lady: “would they buy this book?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What are their business hours?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “Do they take hardcover?”
Me: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Lady: “What’s the owner’s name?”
Answer #1: “The owner’s name is Charlie Chaplin, they only take books written between 1920 and 1925, and they will only sell books to people with pink or purple hair and they are open between midnight and 4am but you look daft enough to be an excellent customer!
Answer #2: “I’m sorry; we’re not affiliated; I couldn’t say”
Another lady:
Her: “Do you take Amex?”
Me: “No, we take everything but that”
Her: “Then I don’t suppose you take debit?”
Answer #1: Sure I can do that.
Answer #2: Only if you can show me ID proving that you are not a runaway from a mental institution.
At the office, during the peak of the H1N1 panic, I answered a call from an obviously frazzled woman:
Lady: My son has been sick for a month and its just dreadful.
Me: I’m sorry, that must be difficult for you.
Lady: Well yes, and I went to the doctor and he told me that its not the swine flue.
Me: That must be a relief.
Lady: well, I just don’t know. He’s been sick for a month and I just thought maybe you could tell me if he has the swine flue?
Me: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Lady: Well, I was just looking for a second opinion.
Answer #1: I’m sorry, but I’m not a doctor so I really can’t say.
Answer #2: “My opinion, lady, is that if you think that the first person that answer’s the phone at your local mp’s office is qualified to give you a medical opinon contradicting your family doctor, then perhaps what your son is suffering from is simply the culling of a strand of DNA not fit (or deserving enough)to survive in this world. Cut your losses and let your line fade from the gene pool in peace.
I can assure you that whichever answer i did not give was the one I most wanted to.
zeeba neighbors
Note to disgruntled constituents: If you send mail stating you want to be taken off our mailings list, then PUT YOUR NAME AND ADDRESS ON IT! Contrary to popular belief, the government and its drones aren’t all knowing and psychic!
Friday, June 18, 2010
of ageless themes: Soccer and books
The World Cup is being absolutely ridiculous. I don't like it. England tying with the USA??? Germany losing to SERBIA!!! The status quo is being upset and that simply won't do. If your top teams cannot be depended upon than what can??? Next thing we know, gravity will go!
Despite claims that my WC enthusiasm is simply band-wagon-jumping like the Olympics (which I freely claim was a total case of getting swept up in the enthusiasm) it literally hurts to see my teams doing so badly! And soccer really is the most beautiful sport. Both regarding the moves and the players.
In other news: 84 Charing Cross is brilliant and its companion, Duchess of Bloomsbury Street even more so. No one writes letters and journals like they used to. And while it might be cliche to lament this; lament it I can't help when I read these books. If you havn't read them but you have read the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, think of the former as a more authentic version of the latter (although I make absolutly no complaints about it either)
Despite claims that my WC enthusiasm is simply band-wagon-jumping like the Olympics (which I freely claim was a total case of getting swept up in the enthusiasm) it literally hurts to see my teams doing so badly! And soccer really is the most beautiful sport. Both regarding the moves and the players.
In other news: 84 Charing Cross is brilliant and its companion, Duchess of Bloomsbury Street even more so. No one writes letters and journals like they used to. And while it might be cliche to lament this; lament it I can't help when I read these books. If you havn't read them but you have read the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society, think of the former as a more authentic version of the latter (although I make absolutly no complaints about it either)
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