the highlight of the weekend...

I am aware of my obstinancy. I know when I am being 'uptight'. I have certain fears, complicated ones, beset by past experiences and colored by mere physical emotion that force words to come out of my mouth and deem me the official 'uncool' party pooper. And mostly I am ok with that. I also know that mostly I can be a delightful and charming soul. And I was looking forward to canoeing, I really was. Being on or near bodies of water calms me and rejuvenates me. I had the pleasure of paddleboating the day before and was generally enjoying the last day of what proved to be a lovely weekend out of the city.

But when Eileen and I got out on the lake, rowing far enough out that we were the only humans around, she started talking crazy and my uptight side reared it's ugly head. Neither of us had suits, and though I had the sense to leave my bag and phone and shoes at the dock with the rental gal, I still did not fancy a swim. She did.

Visions of lost jewelry, contact lenses, soaking pants, and tipped over boats swirled in my head as I tried to dissuade her from her intentions whilst avoiding looking like a complete scaredy-cat. She was nice enough to not take the mickey out on me and her kindness relieved me enough to modify my protestations to a form of brave detachment: "Well, if you really want to and you think you won't tip the boat over when you get back in...." Splash!

It was all she needed in terms of permission. She swam like a fish for mere minutes before getting back in the boat. When she crawled over the side and sprawled part on the canoe bench and mostly on the floor, I turned around to tell her she was my hero for doing it without incident. I suddenly felt brave and hopeful...if she could do it...then maybe......I was verbally applauding her and mentally hoping she would sit on her bench soon so we could balance correctly and get a move on when I found myself under the boat and submerged in water.

"Omigod! Do you totally hate me?" she cried from the other side of the boat as I marveled at the buoyancy of my capri jeans. I was laughing hysterically. We had capsized. I turned the canoe over but it was filled with water. I grabbed the oars and Eileen's plastic shoes and started using one to get water out. She asked me what I was doing-I was totally committed to sitting there for ever how long it would take to get the water out but apparently you cannot 'unswamp' a boat like that. So we gathered ourselves and began to swim ashore, dragging the boat behind us.

Apparently she was a boat something or other and knew about things like unswamping boats. Almost to the dock, we were 'rescued', sort of, well, the boat was. The rental gal took our boat and we crawled up the side of a concrete wall to land with the help of a nice lady and dripped our way over to the docks where Erik took a picture of us. After I had changed, we left Green Lake behind..only to contemplate next years memories. Sigh.

Had to happen eventually.....

I was robbed on the train. They didn't get much, just my lunch bag with dirty tupperware and a large large cucumber....
Leslie

Terrifying

I dreamed last night that I was baking fresh cut green and red peppers and when I was getting ready to take them out of the oven, they slipped back further into the oven hot place and combusted. I was in my parent's house except it was my house. I saw flames shooting out of the back of the oven and through the bottom and then they filled the room (like in that movie Backdraft) and I was incredulous because how does that happen when baking peppers? I tried to put it out but I knew as I tried that I was signing my own death certificate by standing there futilely throwing water on the fire that was already catching on my clothes and skin. After I abandoned the effort and dream-slow moved toward the back door which I knew would be locked, I began to contemplate the way my skin would look after they found my body. And then I woke up. EWW! I have never ever had a dream like that.

I looked up the meaning on my trusty website and I am still at a loss as to my own inner psyche. Damn. I am burning up inside apparently....


Fire

To dream of that you are being burned by fire, indicates that your temper is getting out of control. Some issue or situation is burning you up inside.

To dream that a house is on fire, indicates that you need to undergo some transformation. If you have recurring dreams of your family house on fire, then it suggests that you are still not ready for the change or that you are fighting against the change. Alternatively, it highlights passion and the love of those around you.

breakfast

also, i had sloppy joes for breakfast. in a corn tortilla with some cheese. it was very satisfactory.

unfortunate

its terribly unfortunate that i have fallen into a self-induced harry potter coma. i have not surfaced for weeks and i am afraid i will suffer from severe withdrawal when ive reentered the world of the non magical....i read the last book and then i reread all the rest and am now rereading the last book again. please note i have ingested no less than 200 pages of hp every day for the last three weeks. you do the math. ok wait i will do the math....that is more than 4200 pages. i am on the last book now and keep looking at the clock maniacally waiting for lunch time to roll around so i can reimmerse myself in the illusion. i know what happens and i am still addicted. what is wrong with me?

friends...

i don't think i've mentioned the fact that lately i spend most of my social time with three white men over the age of 50. i can't tell you how strange that is or how indicative it is of how i am changing. these are kind men, supportive men and there is nothing untoward about my friendship with them at all. nor is there anything fatherly. mentorly, perhaps.....but these are just friends who share a love of the same thing: volleyball. i've seen them each in turn in pain and weakness and in great strength. i am not sure if they've seen me in the variety of lights that tend to strengthen a friendship but i do believe they have. anyway just was thinking about it!

If I were a smart ass columnist who had a column I would write this....

I keep seeing people who are lost in the '80s and I'm not talking about those little fashionistas who were too young to get tired of stretch pants and off-the-shoulder shirts, skinny pants and pointy toed shoes. They forget we used to layer our socks, too.

The thing is I've been in the world long enough to see that what my mom was saying is, in fact, true and now I begin to wonder as we cycle through a new stage of 'cutting edge' fashion which era I will inevitably get lost in-unaware as these men and women are-that feathered hair, wings and mullets and banana clips only make you look dated and not dateable.

When I was in college and serious platforms were in style, my mom would scoff at me and lament me as unenlightened-she seemed disappointed and determined to connect my fashion choice to some failure of the feminist movement of the 60s. I looked at pictures of women wearing shoes from 'back then' and managed to convince myself that my shoes were TOTALLY different. Which they were, and they weren't. A few years separation from that time period and the occasional glance at my bright red platform tennis shoes from 1997 at the bottom of my shoe shelf have since convinced me of that.

The fact is I've noticed a bit of recycling going on, and try as I might, as I've seen things go out of style, I loathe them coming back into style. Of course, my attachment here and there to a favorite shirt or pair of pants has had me treading in dangerously unfashionable waters and I have a few things in my closet that came back in style so I was happy about that.

I am sure my disgust is in part because I suffer a little bit from consumer conditioning, I mean, how can I move on to the next fashion if I am still digging the one from last week, or from 10 years ago? Gotta spend spend spend, right? But a big part of my irritation with fashion recycling is that changes in fashion mark passages of time in an undeniably vivid way.....and if you've had hopes and dreams that have not been realized this can be a crude, colorful and expensive awakening.

And so my flippant mind sometimes thinks little smart ass thoughts about people as they pass me by and then I worry and wonder if maybe I need to go shopping again.

(Truth is, I've started to like those pointy toed shoes but you can bet I will NEVER try skinny pants or them dresses over 'leggings' formerly known as stretch pants-much too much like my first day of school outfit in 7th grade)

babies!

My apartment is not baby-proof. I knew that. But when Kayla came over I knew that I underestimated my own energy levels at keeping her away from items of interest. Last night Kayla (age: 17 months) came over while her Mom went to a birthday/benefit party. Mom left at 750, running late. After she teared up a bit at the disappearance of her mother, I made Kayla dinner (pizza and strawberries) and tried to get her to watch the Electric Company, which held her attention for approximately 3 minutes. She ate the strawberries and tried to clean up after herself, "Ah None!" she kept saying. (translation, Alll Done!) barely gripping the bowl as she tottered to the kitchen to put it away. Came back and kept opening her mouth wide to receive pizza that I was apparently supposed to put in her mouth, only to have her grin and say "HOTTT!" as she slobbered over half a bite and put it back on the plate. Then I watched her chase my frightened cat around the apartment while screeching-Addy was very disturbed. I watched her bang on my keyboard (recently re-acquired after 4 years on loan to someone) and I watched her try to turn on my tv, turn off my tv, turn on my tv, turn off my tv, and then try to destroy a DVD. I watched her attempt to play in the toilet, crawl on top of chairs, try to open the refrigerator, and huff and puff when she couldn’t do that. At one point she grabbed my bedroom trash bin and carried it around triumphantly for a bit, it was the same size as she was. I was running after her like a crazy woman. At some point I knew, just knew, it was time for Mommy to come back….and I looked at the clock, and it was 845. I had been running around for less than an hour!

Then I found out today an old best friend from high school is a few months pregnant as are other members of a very fond crew of mine from back in the day. Sigh.
To Moms all around, I salute you!