Smoke and Mirrors

Happy birthday, Mom!

Today is my mom's birthday -- happy birthday, Mom! She spent the weekend here, after driving through a sleet and snow storm Saturday morning. She arrived here at around noon, a bit frazzled, but in one piece. She brought me a lovely box filled with Halloween treats (ghost and spooky cat marshmallow Peeps, a cute little stuffed bat, a couple of nifty pens, and some tea) and I barely let her get in the door before making her open her birthday presents. I'd bought them a few weeks ago, and was impatient for her to open them, even though Saturday was a bit early. I got her the Chronicles of Narnia in one volume (I have it, and she'd borrowed it, but she really wanted her own copy) and Peter Gabriel's new CD. Once the presents were all opened and admired, we headed out into the rain to get lunch and go shopping. We ate at Friday's, where the cutest little girl in the world flirted with us from the booth behind ours -- she was about 4, and was having great fun peeking at us from around the corner of our booth, then giggling and darting out of sight. Her little brother was equally adorable -- when his mom went off to the bathroom, he sat in his booster seat looking after her with a terribly worried expression. When she came back, he flung his arms around her neck and gave her big, wet kisses. Aw.

Lunch was good, except for cole slaw that tasted inexplicably like fake banana flavoring. It was mostly just nice to get warm and dry, as it was pouring out. Of course, we decided to shop at a strip mall, where we'd be strolling around outside. We went to Target first, where I hunted unsuccessfully for a jacket with a hood. I did get a new wallet, to replace my old one -- the zipper broke last week, and closing it with a rubber band was more trouble than it was worth. I also broke my no-theme-clothing rule and bought a Halloween T-shirt -- black, with three little orange cats on the front. It's very cute, and was only $5. I'm wearing it right now, in fact, but I don't feel like posting photos of my chest right at the moment. Perhaps if you ask nicely...

After Target, we went on the PetSmart, for cat food, a bottle of those catnip-essence bubbles, and a new catnip toy for Smoke. The bubbles were a failure with both Smoke and Cleo -- they'll stare at the bubbles intently, but won't go near them. Alas. The toy, a fake-fur mouse with a velcro pouch for catnip, was well appreciated, though. We stopped to talk to a gorgeous grey parrot -- I've forgotten what kind it was, but it was so pretty -- soft grey feathers, and beautiful blue-grey eyes. It was also $1,300, so we resisted the urge to bring it home and went on to browse Old Navy (where they had no jackets with hoods at all, the bastards) and Bed, Bath and Beyond (which smelled nauseatingly of apple-cinnamon potpourri), and then went on the Michael's to shop for craft-type things. I bought two huge bags of yarn (Lion Brand Homespun -- seven skeins of Tudor, and three of Edwardian. It cost surprisingly little -- $40! I was expecting it to cost close to twice that, and had been saving money accordingly. Now I have enough to keep me busy for ages. I have some gifts to make, plus I need a new scarf for winter. After Michael's, we were thoroughly soggy and tired, and wanted to go home and have tea, so we slogged back through the rain to the car and headed out. We stopped in Malden for groceries, and the people in the store nearly made me homicidal. It was crowded, and in every aisle, someone either stepped in front of me and then stopped short, so I'd run into them, or forcefully shoved me out of the way. I actually found a faint bruise on my arm from one guy who elbowed me aside in the damned meat aisle, and I came close to stuffing a teenage girl into an ice cream freezer when she stepped between me and my mom and then stopped dead, and rolled her eyes at me when I said "Excuse me." Went to check out, intending to write a check, and was remembered, too late, that if you don't have one of the store's cards, you can't write a check. Gah. (A side rant -- why do grocery stores do this? The big chain stores, I mean -- this one rhymes with Flop and Mop. I used to have a card there, but I don't live near one anymore, so I threw the card out ages ago. The grocery store I usually use lets me write a check, and all I have to do is show my drivers license. In fact, every other store I shop in lets me write a check, whether I have their special store-issued card or not. I mean, I know they want to avoid bad checks, but having a reward card doesn't mean my check won't bounce, and it doesn't prove my identity, since I've never seen one of those cards with a photo or a signature on it. It's just stupid, and annoying, and makes me not want to bother shopping there again. End rant.) The cashier told me I couldn't write a check only after all the groceries were rung up, and then seemed to say that, if I didn't have a store card, I couldn't buy groceries there at all -- I'm not sure, because she was doing her best to speak without moving her lips, and I couldn't understand much of what she said. My mom and I had enough cash between us for the groceries, and she took the money, and we left before I had to kill someone.

At home, we ate salad -- we ended up not being very hungry -- and, while Mom was on the phone checking in with the neighbor who was watching her dog, I snuck off to the kitchen to put candles on the birthday cake I'd made for her. I lit the candles in the wrong order (note to self: light the ones on the inside of the cake first, doofus, or else you burn your hand.) I'd found a candle that, when lit, played Happy Birthday -- Mom liked it, and it saved me having to sing. We had cake and wine and watched Trading Spaces, and then went off to bed. I got all confused when I turned the clock back -- it felt very weird to be going to bed when the clock said it was only 10 p.m. on a Saturday, but I did enjoy the extra sleep. Sunday, we got up relatively early and went into Boston to go to the Museum of Fine Arts. We had a nice refreshing walk before the Museum, because I... well... okay, I got us lost. I decided it would be easier to take the Orange Line subway to the Ruggles stop, instead of changing trains at Park Street -- I'd been told the Ruggles stop was right by the Museum. I was obviously told that by people who lie through their teeth. We ended up walking the opposite direction from where we were supposed to be, I think -- and the one person we were able to find to ask directions, a really, really cute jogger, turned out to be from out of town. Sigh. We ended up walking all the way back downtown, until we found the Symphony T stop and were able to get on the correct train. We got lunch at the Museum cafeteria, then step off to fill our brains with culture. We looked at art from Africa and Oceania, wandered through some Victorian furniture, looked at some modern art, and finally found my favorite spot, the Egyptian funereal arts. They've moved everything around since the last time I was there, and some spots were closed for renovation, so it took a while to get there. I love the Egyptian stuff -- I recently spent a Saturday watching specials on King Tut and the Discovery Channel, and wanted to see the exhibit again. It spooks me, being in that area -- I think it's the age of it all. There was a huge stone sarcophagus that seemed to watch us as we walked around, and more mummies than I remembered. We felt oddly guilty, looking at them -- my mom commented that she wondered if it was right, having them there on display. I figure it's better than having them looted or destroyed. After that, we found our way upstairs, and looked at our other favorites, the Impressionists. I know next to nothing about art, but I like Impressionism. That room was crowded, as it always is, so we sat on a bench and people-watched for a while before looking at the paintings. Once we were done with that, we were tired and footsore, so we headed to the gift shop ( a paint-by-numbers calendar for my mom, and a Dr. Seuss one with stickers for me) and then made our way back to the T. We thought about going downtown for a bit, but Mom was tired and not feeling very well by that point, so we just went home instead. We watched Lord of the Rings while we ate dinner, then Angel (for my benefit -- Mom doesn't watch the show) and then went to bed. She left this morning after I went to work -- I came home to a clean kitchen and tidy living room, and a perplexed cat wondering where Mom had gone. It is awfully quiet around here tonight.

Let's see... I meant to write earlier about the Elvis Costello show Lee and I went to last Monday -- it was at the Orpheum, and was excellent. We had terrible seats -- thanks to Clear Channel's members-only presale, all the good seats were taken before the public sale even began. The best I could get were in the balcony, where the seats are the size of postage stamps. Really, the seats are unbelievably cramped. If you're over 5 feet tall, you'd best be able to detach your legs, because they just won't fit in the seats. I may be carrying the lovechild of the guy who was sitting next to me, the seats were so cramped. Also, the audience was lame, and sat perfectly still during the whole show. I thought it was just the balcony, but I heard later that it was everyone, with the exception of one girl in the balcony who danced up a storm the whole time, and Crazy Drunk Concert Guy, who was in the row ahead of Lee and I. He finally got thrown out, because he was being a bit of an ass, and making it really hard for the people behind him to see the stage, much less hear anything. But the show itself? Phenomenal. He played some songs I wasn't expecting to hear (I'll Wear It Proudly made me squeal and bounce around in my seat) and did three encores. Afterward, Lee and I went to Bickford's for greasy omelettes and people-watching, then I went home to sleep. I took Tuesday off because I knew I'd be too tired to go to work -- I slept in, knitted for quite a while, and just relaxed in general.

So, there -- a mammoth entry, all about what I've been doing. How have you all been?

Smoke says hi. She'd like someone to rub her belly while she lolls on her kitty perch, please.

Domesticated

So, I was going to write an entry about how calm and content and relaxed I was feeling, having spent the past two days doing not much at all, and knowing I have tomorrow off work, but then I had an encounter with a skunk that could have been very unpleasant indeed. I went outside to have a cigarette, and did the usual check for skunks in the yard and slugs on the porch (it's not at all nice to step on one in your bare feet) and saw nothing amiss. While I was happily smoking and watching the rain, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned to see a rather large, fluffy skunk investigating the neighbors porch -- maybe three feet from me, and a little too close for my comfort. I turned to slip back inside, and tripped over the little grill my roommate put on the porch, making a very loud clang. The skunk whirled around and raised its tail, and I dove through the screen door so fast I hurt my shoulder. It didn't actually spray -- the yard doesn't smell skunky or anything -- but it was far too close, I think. I don't want to be posting entries asking for the best skunk-smell remedies, after all.

Other than fleeing from startled skunks, I've been lazy and domestic all weekend. Saturday I went to the library to pick up a book they were holding for me, and then went to the grocery store to buy stuff to make vegetable soup. It was cold and drizzly, and my umbrella decided to die halfway there, so I was damp and chilled when I got home. The soup took care of that, though -- it came out more stew-like, since it's so thick, and made enough that I'll be eating it all week. I spent the rest of the day working on the afghan I'm crocheting -- I just need to sew a few more of the squares together, and I'll be done. Today I woke up with the unexplained need to bake a pie, so I ventured back out into the rain to buy ingredients, and came home and baked a lovely apple pie. I'd never tried making a pie before, so I was pleased -- as was my roommate when I told him he needed to eat some of it, to save me from eating it all. Apple pie for breakfast tomorrow, yum...

Both cats somehow got shut in my bedroom when I went to bed last night, prompting a feline war of grand proportions. Cleo must have gotten shut out of J.'s room at some point, and I think she must have been hiding under my bed. Smoke ran in and hopped into her nest in the duvet when I went to bed, just like always, but a few minutes after I dozed off, she leapt off the bed and there was much yowling and hissing and shrieking. I had been asleep, so I was a bit groggy, and didn't turn on the light -- I just opened the door, flung one cat out into the hallway and the other onto the bed, and went back to sleep. Luckily I tossed the correct one out, and Smoke spent the rest of the night clinging to me. She's got a cut on one ear, but it's not too bad -- it doesn't seem to hurt, but I've been putting antibiotic ointment on it just in case. I haven't seen Cleo, but I told J. about it, and warned him to check her for scratches. They had been getting along better, but today they growled and spat at each other whenever they had the chance. Damn cats.

I'm off now to work some more on yet another project -- I dug out some pretty purple wool I bought ages ago, and am making a scarf for the 3WA craft fair. Hopefully I have enough, because I won't be able to get more. And I'm very happy that I have all day tomorrow to work on it!

(See, this is why I don't update more often. I'm completely boring!)

Yawn.

Few updates mean very little going on. I slept far too late this morning, dragged my groggy self out of bed at around 11 o'clock, and ate pancakes while watching Trading Spaces. I went a bit nuts playing with the library's online system, and requested five books, all of which came in this past week. So, after stuffing myself with pancakes, I wandered to the library to pick them up. I'm reading the whole Aunt Dimity series -- they're very sweet books. I'd read the first one back in college, after my mom read it and lent it to me. Sort of mystery/ ghost stories, very easy to read, and thoroughly charming. I was planning to spend the afternoon curled up on the couch reading them, but my roommate is home and has some rather bass-heavy music playing upstairs, so I can't really concentrate on them. I really should be working on the afghan I'm making -- I've crocheted all the squares, and I just need to finish sewing them together. I'm nearly half-done -- it's just too warm today to want to handle thick, fuzzy yarn.

There really isn't much new here -- last Saturday evening, Lee and I met up with Patrick and D. to do laundry, which was a whole lot more fun than it probably sounds. I hadn't seen Patrick since he moved out, and it's more fun to do laundry in a group, anyway. Our general silliness made a few of the other people in the laudromat look at us funny and give us a wide berth, but made one woman folding clothes nearby laugh a lot -- with us or at us, I don't know. And I can't remember quite what we were talking about, but I think it involved pirates, and I know we were mocking America's Most Wanted for quite a while. Laundry done, we went out for dinner, then went home to put all the lovely clean clothes away.

Work has been busy, but my boss will be away for the next two weeks, hurrah! She leaves me in charge when she's gone, but I don't think my authority extends to closing the place and giving everyone a two-week vacation, alas. I told my high-school best friend off after she sent me an offensive e-mail forward -- I wrote about it here, in the October 2nd. entry. I haven't heard from her since, and that's probably a good thing. I wasn't thrilled that she'd decided to wander back into my life again -- we were great friends in high school, but drifted apart in college when her drinking and drug problems grew to be too much for me to handle. I tried to keep in touch with her, but she never reciprocated, and eventually I stopped trying. We had nothing in common anymore, and it just made me sad to try to find some common ground with her. She has reappeared a couple of times in the last ten years -- once about five years ago, when she called me out of the blue. We had a great long phone conversation, and she promised to stay in touch, and I suppose in her mind she did -- she never called or wrote again, but she did forward me every hoax, chain letter, bad joke, and cheesy poem about friends she came across online. Since she only checked her email every couple of weeks, and she forwarded every damn thing, I'd get end up with dozens of forwards from her in my inbox, all at once. Since she was sending them to my work email, I was less than pleased. I asked her gently to stop, then asked more forcefully, then told her if she forwarded me one more thing, I'd block her address. After that, I didn't hear from her for five years. It wasn't so much the forwarded stuff that bothered me as the fact that she never contacted me any other way. I'd call and leave messages, and she'd never call back. I'd write her chatty emails, and be answered by a barrage of forwards that she was sending to everyone in her address book. I tend to dislike being forwarded things as a rule, but I don't mind a few as long as the person sending them isn't relying on them to be our only means of communication. So, a few months ago, she contacted me -- again, out of the blue. She said she wanted my address and my mother's, so she could invite us to her wedding. Now, it's been five years since I last heard from her -- I didn't even know she was dating, much less getting married. My mom asked me not to give out her address, so I wrote back and said that I didn't know if we could make it to the wedding, but to send both invitations to me. She wrote me back a rather curt email, asking what my problem was, and saying that if I had decided I didn't want to be her friend anymore, I should just tell her. Sigh. She always did have a penchant for drama. I wrote back and explained that I wasn't angry, it was just... it had been five years. I was more than happy to renew the friendship, but maybe we could, you know, talk a little bit before the wedding? Get reacquainted? (The whole thing really struck me as a plea for wedding presents, but that's neither here nor there, really.) She apologized, we had a great long phone conversation, and then... nothing. My calls and emails went unanswered. No more contact at all... until the forwarded emails started showing up again. It was only a few, so I just deleted them, until that last one. It was offensive and hateful, and I didn't want any part of it. I'm assuming she won't contact me anymore -- I hope she doesn't, anyway. It's not so much that I'm angry with her, because I'm really not. I'm annoyed, sure, and unhappy that we've grown so far apart, but you know, it happens. We didn't have much in common in high school, but we had fun together. She could make me laugh harder than anyone else in the world. We were opposites, but with a very strong bond. That bond just didn't hold together once we graduated and moved on -- she went off to college and spent every night partying until she flunked out after her first semester. while I went to school and worked my ass off. She moved back home, and I stayed in Boston. I'd visit her, but we very quickly ran out of things to talk about. She made it clear that she found my life boring as all hell, and I'm sure I didn't hide my concern over her drinking and drug use well. (She'd been in rehab before I met her, and she knew I was unhappy with her decision to start drinking and using drugs again. I just didn't know what to do to help her, since she saw nothing wrong with it.) I didn't see much of her after the night she got so drunk she passed out, leaving me to catch a ride home with a guy I'd just met that evening. Luckily, he was nice, although I was so angry with her that he would have been taking his life in his hands had he tried anything with me. So... I don't know. Obviously she stirs up a lot of unhappy feelings for me -- I wish things had turned out differently. I was sure that she and I would be friends for life -- we joked that we'd be roommates in the nursing home. It's not going to happen -- we're strangers to each other now, and the gap between us is too large to fill.

Now I've depressed myself. But the roommate has left for the weekend (riding off on the motorcycle he bought recently, and is deeply proud of) so I'm going to curl back up on the couch and read my books. Have a good weekend, all.