fields of reefer

I don’t really have much to say today. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep (four hours…I didn’t fall asleep until after four). Maybe it’s the anxiety about…everything.

I guess I just want to say “goodbye June, hello July.” July: the month of our family vacation (which we didn’t take last year due to horrendous lack of funds), the month of Indie’s visit, the month of our friends’ wedding (less than three full weeks now), the month of our own fifth wedding anniversary.

Although five years is really such a short amount of time – those of you who have been married much longer probably think of us as infants (well, maybe toddlers) in the world of marriages – I still feel like we’ve been through a lifetime’s worth of experiences together. Maybe this is because I’ve spent almost my entire adult life with Cardo.

Sometimes I feel like, after seven years of being together and about six of living together, we should have each other figured out. We should have us figured out. Now, I know that all relationships take constant work, but I’m still continually amazed to learn new things about Cardo, about us, about myself. Recently, I’ve realized that I need social interaction with my friends and he just doesn’t seem to need any beyond work and family. I’ve also realized that he’s much more accepting of me than I thought any person would ever be able to be. He’s probably come to learn that I’m much crazier than he ever thought I’d be. Such is the trade-off in life.

I never thought that this relationship stuff was going to be easy. I saw my parents argue. I’ve seen other couples argue. Recently, a friend used the metaphor that marriages are like gardens that we have to continually weed. (Of course, I thought she said, “Marriages are our weed.” Does anyone even use the word “weed”?)

So, anyway, I have no idea how this devolved into a freewrite about my marriage. Hmmm.

So, hello July.

pack rat

Among the items that have moved with me since high school. I've finally started to let go...except, I kept the lady in green. (The second picture is incredibly dark, but it's the tag that came with my competition swim suit when I was on swim team in high school. Obviously a treasure to be valued for almost a decade.)

fear

Lately, I’ve been giving a lot of my life a closer look. Okay, so “lately” isn’t exactly the most accurate term. I’m always over-analyzing my life.

Anyhow, lately what I’ve been obsessing over is this desire I have to settle down already. I thought that at twenty-seven, I’d still feel so young, I’d still feel like there were so many opportunities open to me. And, I do…sometimes. It’s just when I focus on the next five to seven years of my life that are going to be devoted to PhD and the next three to five or more that are going to be devoted to finding a forever job that I start to get panicky. I feel trapped, suffocated. I keep asking myself, “Is this still what I really want?” and I don’t know that the answer is yes. The problem (one of them, at least) is that this is all I’m trained for. I have a Bachelors in English Literature. In a year, I hope to have a Masters in the same. I refuse to go back to serving and the only thing I’ve ever done aside from that is retail.

Since I was three, I wanted to be a teacher. I still believe that that is what I really want…or at least I think I do. I just don’t know that I’m emotionally and mentally capable of attaining that goal. Sometimes, now, I feel like I just want to disappear, become a recluse and somehow survive in this place I’ve crafted for myself.

I’m just starting to settle down here, form a community, a tiny little community, I feel comfortable with. Of course, because my community consists of people very much like me, many with similar goals, this community is fluid and I can’t bottle it. People have already moved and will be moving and, soon, I’ll be picking up again and settling down in some new and scary place.

And that’s the thing. I’m so afraid of everything. I’m afraid of creating new connections, but once I form them, I’m afraid of severing them. I’m afraid that maybe I’m just not really cut out for this. I’m afraid that one day Cardo will see that I’m so full of this fear to really live and take chances that he will grow tired of me and my timidity. And, I’m afraid that I will never allow myself to feel fulfilled, satisfied by my life and the choices I make, and avoid, in it.

And, I wonder if others have these feelings of self-doubt also, but I’m afraid to ask because if the answer is no, I’m not sure where to go from there.

picture pages

a bakery in Seattle












moving is fun












my temporary wedding ring

glorious books

I just notice that Ms J has added a 'reading queue' to her blog! I'm super excited about this. I'm always interested in what others are reading. Thanks to Ms J and Poke for sharing their reads. I'm open to suggestions from anyone else, anytime. Happy reading!

pic

It's late and I'm getting tired. I still have plenty of laundry to dry and fold and then I'll probably read a bit before I go to bed. I just wanted to share a few things before I headed off with the b-52s to dreamland.

First of all: a big Congratulations to Ms S who just received news that she was accepted to a Masters program at Kings College in London! Best of luck next (school) year.

















Tuesday night was Pajama Night at the library. This is one of Pic's favorite events. During storytime on Tuesday morning, Pic informed me that she didn't want to attend Pajama Night, but when Ms Judy asked her if she was coming, she said "Yes!" Of course. As Pic and I were about to head off for our walk to the library, I sent her upstairs to find her pajamas. After a few minutes, she called down to me, "I found my vagina!" She paused a moment and then called down, "I found my...pajamas!" Yeah, I thought so.

We are on day three of antibiotics for Pic's UTI. The moment she tells me she has to pee, I get her to the nearest toilet asap (faster than usual, just in case you were thinking I usually made her hold it in). Yesterday, Cardo, Pic and I were at the bank when nature called. There was no restroom available to us at the bank, so I took Pic over to Gottschalks (Yo daddy Gottschalks...hi Ms P!), leaving Cardo at the bank. As we ran in, franticly in search of a restroom sign, an employee at a display table remarked, "She's really tan." As we rushed past, I assured the woman that we applied tons of sunscreen everyday. I think she understood Pic's "tan" as we were leaving, though. Cardo came in to meet us and Pic ran down the aisle yelling "Papi!" as if it'd been days since we'd last seen him. (Just in case I somehow have random readers who've never seen us, I'm just a wee bit light-skinned, but Cardo is a self-described "brown guy." Pic got a good mix of our skin colors.) (Does anyone remember the Jackie Kay campus visit when she related a similar anecdote? While she was clothes-shopping with her mom, one of the salespeople remarked, "She's rather tan"...except you have to imagine Kay's Scottish accent there.)

I'll end with food pictures because I haven't posted any lately. I'll save tonight's dinner for another post because I still haven't shared Father's Day dinner pictures. We celebrated the day after because Cardo worked Sunday night (we took him to breakfast on Father's Day).



Here are Pic and me in our aprons from Poke:













Dinner was whole wheat spaghetti, mushroom-marinara sauce to which I added carrots, turkey, mozzarella, nectarines and sparkling white grape juice:





















Dessert was caramel cake and milk on dessert ware given to me loooong ago by Poke's mom:

peeved

As usual, I had a difficult time falling asleep last night. I finally came downstairs at about 1:30. At two, the neighbors began noisily going into and out of their apartment (I think it was some of the many kids who are always congregating there). I finally started falling asleep a little after 2:30 when there were two loud slams on the door at 2:45. Little punks. (Believe you me, there are/were many other not-so-sweet words going through my head.)

Because I had just fallen asleep, I was completely out of it when I heard the noise, so I didn’t react quickly. By the time I managed to figure out what was going on, the delightful and considerate little joys were inside. They woke Cardo up, which irked me even more. He’s been sick for over a week now and he needs his rest. They didn’t wake Pic up and thanks be for that. Next time, we’re going to go over and pound on their door. Seriously, parents? I remember being a kid (it really wasn’t all that long ago). I remember staying up all night at sleepovers and being obnoxiously loud and giggly (I hope not too loud, but I’m sure my parents just had to listen for a minute to confirm that all slumber-partiers were still present). However, we lived in a house, we didn’t slam doors or shove each other into walls or rearrange furniture or whatever the crap my neighbors seemed to be doing all night. And we never threw crap at or pounded on neighbors doors in the middle of the night (or at any other time, mind you).

Argh. Just as I thought it was getting quiet.

In other non-news: Pic has been blessed with a UTI. I went to check on her last night and her room smelled like concentrated urine (I don’t exactly know how to describe it, but it was a very pungent urine smell). I took her out of her bed and slipped her out of her pajamas and panties. I made her a little bed on the floor and I took her bedclothes downstairs so I could wash them today. Rarely does she wet her bed. I can’t even remember the last time she did it.

Then, this morning, as we were waking up, she called out to me “I pee-peed in my panties.” She was upset. I didn’t see any blood and she told me both “yes” and “no” when I asked her if she was hurting. Ten minutes later, just after I got her dress on, teeth brushed and sunscreen slathered on, she peed in her underwear again. She never pees in her underwear.

She was at school for less than a half-hour today. I made a sick-visit appointment for her at the doctor’s office (such an important convenience: the ability to schedule a sick-visit at the pediatrician’s office). She freaked out when she realized where we were going, but the visit went surprisingly smoothly. Even the peeing in the cup. She’s had to have a catheter put in before, once, when we thought she had a UTI before (turns out all the fun of putting the catheter in was for nothing). This time, the nurse handed me a cup and we hoped that Pic would be able to go in it. She did…kind of. She wanted to stand as she peed and she ended up peeing in the cup, down her legs, on the floor and on me. I really didn’t care, as long as the sample was big enough, and it was.

Since then, we’ve dropped off the urine sample at the lab, purchased her antibiotics, administered the first dose (“It’s milk!” she exclaimed before tasting it. After tasting it, though, she spit a large amount out and wailed, “It’s baaad.”), eaten lunch, bathed, done laundry and we’re both “resting” right now (I can hear her upstairs singing to her toys). Now, I’m going to lay on the couch like a useless lump until Cardo gets home (he gets off at three today, so I have a limited amount of useless-lump-laying-around time).