Category: life

wearing my serious pants

Society for the Prevention of Pants
The Fund for Pants Awareness
Pants Across America
The Right to Pants Association
Friends of Pants

This week’s Monday Mission solicits donations in the form of posts about a charity, real or imagined, serious or humorous. (Wow, I just started to type “humourous.” I think it’s a side effect of reading so many blogs by Canadians.) With so many options, it’s hard to narrow down. How can I pick a favorite? Usually, I take every opportunity for silliness. But with things going on in my personal life right now, I’m moved to actually write a serious post, and mention a real charity.

My friend Elizabeth was a beautiful person. It hurts me to write about her in the past tense. But there it is. She died on Friday after a 2-year valiant fight against cancer.

I saw Elizabeth on Tuesday at the hospital. She was still herself, in many ways. Quieter. It was an effort for her to talk. But she still had her sense of humor intact. A close friend of hers flew in from out of state, who I got to meet for the first time. We sat around talking, then reading questions from Trivial Pursuit. Elizabeth and her husband and parents, who had spent much time in hospital rooms with her, had devised a variation of the game. They’d gotten rid of the board ages ago. Instead, they’d read and answer all 6 questions on 6 sequential cards, and total the score out of 36. When an awkward silence started to creep over the room, Elizabeth called for a round of questions. “With three smart women like us, we ought to be able to beat the high score.”

When it was time for me to go catch my train home, I hugged her and told her that I would see her again once she was back home, but I didn’t want to be a pest. I told her she should tell me if I was being a pest. And I hugged her husband, and told him that he should tell me if I was being a pest. And then I turned to the friend, and said “I just met you, so you don’t get to tell me if I’m being a pest.” And we all laughed. Elizabeth, too. I said my good-byes and left. I didn’t dream that it was the last time I would ever see or speak to Elizabeth. I worked on a letter to her that night, determined to share things with her about how much her friendship has meant to me.

She did get to go home. I called on Friday, hoping to make plans to see her over the weekend. When I got the answering machine, I was worried that perhaps she was still in the hospital, that there had been more complications. But then her husband called me back a bit later with the news. Elizabeth had died that morning. It was a huge shock to me, and I dissolved into a blubbering wreck on the phone. “I’m sorry. You don’t need this from me,” I apologized to my friend’s husband through my sobs. But maybe that’s what I’d want in his shoes. To know that my grief and pain were shared.

I’ve had a bit of a rough few days. I’ve had to share the news with our mutual friends, most of whom were not in regular contact with Elizabeth. Some of whom had not even known she was sick. This was a new job for me. I can only imagine what my friend’s husband is going through. He has so many things to take care of. I am so sad for him. And their little girls. And the rest of her family.

I’m still in shock that this has happened. My friend was 35 years old.

She underwent 2 years of procedures and treatments, including chemo, radiation and multiple surgeries. She showed an incredible amount of strength through it all, even as her body became weaker. She didn’t give up hope. She kept living. Kept being a wonderful mother to her 2 beautiful little girls. She was wife, sister, daughter, aunt, friend. And she played all these roles amazingly well.

Time after time, she got bad news from the tests. She would share the news with me at times. The cancer was spreading. The chemo drugs weren’t working. Then the next chemo drugs weren’t working. That she had basically maxed out for radiation. Two weeks ago she told me that they had reached the end of the FDA-approved treatments. She still had hope for the experimental treatments. It turned out she didn’t qualify. Just last Monday, she was told that the next step was hospice.

I found myself very angry that she couldn’t get those experimental treatments. I find myself thinking that things didn’t have to be this way. Science is making great strides in determining causes of cancers. Strides are being made towards the prevention of certain types of cancer. Treatments are much more effective than they were even 10 or 20 years ago. Or 30 years ago.

My own father died of cancer 30 years ago. And I’ve lost others to cancer, too. My much loved grandmother, who was a powerful force in my life. The father of a close friend, who treated me like family and called me “daughter.” A dear stepfather, who I only knew a short time. Even my beloved dog. With my new grief for my friend, I revisit the past grief. I think especially of the loss of my father, how I not only miss him, but missed getting to know him since I was so young when he died. And I think of how Elizabeth’s daughters will miss out on getting to know Elizabeth as the friend that I knew and loved. Cancer robs us of people that we love, of their contributions to our lives and our world.

And I find myself thinking that things could have been different. That with more research, things will be different.

So I end this with a nod to the American Cancer Society.

The American Cancer Society is the nationwide community-based voluntary health organization dedicated to eliminating cancer as a major health problem by preventing cancer, saving lives, and diminishing suffering from cancer, through research, education, advocacy, and service.

good-bye, dear friend

I am immensely sad to say that my good friend, to whom I wrote my fond letter earlier this week, did not have as much time left as I’d hoped.

I don’t believe that she had a chance to read what I wrote, but I hope that she knew those things without me telling her. I am so grateful to have been able to spend time with her this past week. Those hours will always be precious to me.

some words

Dear E,

I don’t know where to begin, because I have so much to say.

You are an amazing person, and I don’t think I’ve told you how much I not only like you, but admire you. You have a strength and wit unmatched in my acquaintance. Even with all that’s going on in your life, you can still make me laugh. You still offer me support.

I’m sure you realize that it’s a testament to you how your family and friends are rallying around you. You strike me as someone who doesn’t like to ask for help, but there are so many who want to help. There are so many who love you.

Ever since I learned you were ill, I have been torn. I have wanted to spend more time with you, but I haven’t wanted to intrude. I don’t want to be a pest.

I can’t believe how long it’s been since our used bookstore romps and binges. Or since we went outlet shopping. Or even how long it’s been since we just went out for a movie or dinner together. I guess that’s one of the ways in which parenthood changes things. But now I find myself wishing we’d found more opportunities. More opportunities to at least hang out and do nothing.

I always like seeing you and your family. Your husband is one of the nicest people I know. (“One of the nicest?” you ask. Well, possibly the nicest. But I haven’t taken a full inventory and measured the niceness of everyone I know. I do know quite a few nice people. But I can’t think of a nicer person just now.) He is smart and funny and likable, just like you.

Your kids are cute and beautiful and impressively bright. I love how much H looks like you, and acts like you. And R is such a force of nature. Even when they are driving you crazy, they are still wonderful. I love to hear you talk about them. Because you are funny and clever, and yet your devotion to them shows.

You guys have been models for us in the parenting department. You’ve given such helpful advice when I’ve asked, though you’re not someone to foist unsolicited advice on others. (If you did, though, I expect it would be good advice.)

I love to talk with you about books and movies and music. You have such a wide range of tastes. You love great literature, but you still enjoy some cheesy sappiness.

I love that you don’t hold back when you don’t like something. You have a talent for cutting through the crap.

Another thing I admire about you is the way you have been happy with your life. While I know you have had hard times and that there are things that don’t go the way you’d like, you have not let those things dominate. I was always impressed to hear about how much you loved your jobs, for example. Not that I thought you had bad jobs, it’s just that so few people I know actually like their jobs. Most people I know are always trying to figure out what else they can do with their careers. Part of me thought that with your talents and intelligence, you could have some sort of higher profile career, or maybe something more directly creative. I could see you as a professor. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn you had Jane Austen-like writing talents.

I’ve wanted to tell you these things.

And then there’s something else. I know you sometimes read my blog. And I feel like the biggest dork in the world bringing this up. I have wanted to write about you, but I haven’t done so out of respect for your privacy. I write all sorts of silly stuff on my blog, as you have seen. I write about all sorts of random crap. Part of me feels like it’s tacky to write such light and silly stuff when people are going through such heavy and serious times. When you are going through such serious times. But I know that you like to be cheered. So I actually often think of you when I am getting silly. I hope you know that my pants have been for you. (Well, I will admit that I have learned to appreciate pants as much as squid. Which is another gift that you’ve given me. So the pants are for me, too. We can share the pants.)

And I have felt like an ass even worrying about what to write in my blog when you are going through some of the worst possible crap life can deal.

But there it is. I want to tell you these things, but I also want to share them. Because you have been in my thoughts so much that it feels like a lie to continue not to talk about you. And because I think you deserve to get some recognition. From me and whoever reads this, of how fabulous a person you are. I want to acknowledge how terrible this is, how grim things are in spite of how hard you’ve been fighting. I’d give you a medal if I could.

I’d say I can’t imagine what things must be like for you. But that’s not exactly true. I have been imagining. And my heart aches.

I’m scared for you. I’m angry that this is happening to you and your family. I want to do something to change things, but of course I can’t. And I’m sad, too, of course.

But I’m also happy that I get to have time with you. I’m so glad to know you.

So, there it is. I’ve said a bunch of stuff I’ve wanted to tell you, but haven’t managed to say in person. I have more things I could say, too. But I’ll stop here.

I hope that you won’t be offended that I’m writing this so publicly. If it bothers you, I will take it down. But in any case, you are required to forgive me. Because I selfishly can’t bear the thought of alienating you.

Much love,

Alejna

I do doodle. Do you?

I doodled today. I do like to doodle. (I also like to say the word doodle. Also noodle. I may well have to doodle a noodle just so I can talk about it.) Anyhow, here is what I did doodle.

doodle.jpg
My doodle, as photographed by John.

Today we went into Boston (John, Phoebe and me) to go to a computational linguistics meeting. We (that is John and I, not Phoebe) were part of the group’s foundation almost 6 years ago, and were very active in the group for several years. But for that past few months, the group has been largely hibernating. (Not the people so much. They’ve been largely awake. But busy.) We’ve decided to reanimate the group, though. Which is great. I did, however, volunteer to do actual work for said group, before my mind had a chance to catch up with my mouth. And as such, I have given myself even more metaphorical bagel over which to spread my figurative cream cheese.

After the meeting, John wanted to go to a camera shop in Cambridge. This seemed fair, especially since all during the meeting, John had been pretty tied up with Phoebe. (Don’t worry, not literally tied up. We used duct tape, not rope. No, no, no, I mean John was busy keeping Phoebe occupied.) We’d brought a few toys, but they didn’t hold interest her for long. John and Phoebe went wandering for a bit, and came back with, among other items, a new box of crayons and a pad of drawing paper.

By the time the meeting finished, over an hour past Phoebe’s usual naptime, Phoebe was both wired and tired. Within a few minutes of being back in the car, though, she was out. (As in asleep. But still in the car.) So when we stopped at the camera store, I decided to just hang out in the car with Phoebe so she could nap. I figured I had my laptop to keep me busy, anyhow, and I could even do some work. However, my laptop ran out of battery within a few minutes. And I found myself with no reading material other than a sort of sad little board book we’d gotten from the pediatrician’s office.

So I decided to take advantage of the crayons.

Here’s what I doodled while waiting in the car. (I did a bit of the coloring after we were moving, but discovered that I get carsick when drawing in the car. Not something I’d known. I can’t read in the car, but I didn’t realize doodling would be a problem.)

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I added a bit more to it while John was giving Phoebe a bath.
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Then I finished it up once Phoebe was in bed.

I also fiddled a bit with the levels in iPhoto, since I had trouble getting the color right in the picture. (These 4 photos are ones I took, by the way.) And I stumbled across this weird effect: when I boosted the saturation and the contrast, there was a point in the levels adjustment where the white paper appeared black, and the opaque crayon bits came out white. Nifty, huh?
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hungry

I’ve been thinking about food these days. Look at me with my bagel here, and my veggies there. And not to mention the stash of chocolate, what with trick-or-treating almost at my doorstep.

Today was a day of eating and running, or running and not eating. I had to go into Boston, and I try to take the train in when I can. There’s a 9:00 train I can catch if I head to the station by 8:30. But what this usually means is that, once I get Phoebe bundled off to daycare, I can barely get myself together in time to, for example, eat breakfast. So since I didn’t have a scheduled meeting till later in the afternoon, I decided to catch a later train. To give myself time to for breakfast, for one thing. Most important meal of the day, and all that. I tend to be hungry in the morning, and if I don’t eat, I get cranky and less than fully functional. So I had my breakfast before leaving home.

It was a bit of a crazy day for public transportation in Boston today. Unbeknownst to me, there was a freakin’ parade scheduled, so I shared my commute in with a trainload of exhuberant teens in party mode.

I figured that by 5:30 or so, when I was heading back towards home, the post-parade chaos would have cleared up. Not quite. As I headed to the train station, I realized I was getting hungry. I thought I’d stop in at the convenience store to get a snack, since I wouldn’t be home till after 7:00. But the train station was mobbed. They had passengers waiting for trains corraled off into lines. I didn’t want to risk being bumped to a later train, so I joined the pen for my train, and missed my window of time to grab something to eat.

It was a long ride home. The train wasn’t as crowded as I’d feared, and I got to sit down. I did a bit of work, but found it hard to concentrate. For one thing, my rumbling stomach kept interrupting my thoughts. It’s hard to focus when you’re hungry.

Of course, my hunger was only temporary. I got to go home, and get something to eat.

Not only did I get to eat, I got to eat foods that I chose. I make efforts to eat well, to eat high quality whole-grain foods, and lots of fruits and vegetables. I find that when I eat well, eat healthily, I feel better. I have more energy, stay healthier, sleep better, work better.

What I find unsettling is that there are so many for whom real hunger is a daily obstacle, and poor nutrition is a regular detractor from health and productivity. Even in the US, where food is plentiful for so many. How can it be that in the same country, where millions are “watching what they eat” in order to lose weight, that others still struggle to even get adequate quantities of food? Restaurants serve up obscenely large servings of food, and we eat more than we should or want, and often waste the rest. Some of us have too much food, while others of us can’t get what we need. Eating healthy foods, especially fresh produce, costs money. And takes time.

Jen at One Plus Two wrote a compelling post reminding us that among those who aren’t getting adequate healthy food are lots of children. 13 million children…in the US alone.

Poor nutrition leads to poor health, poor performance in school, and even impaired cognitive development.

Recent research provides compelling evidence that undernutrition — even in its “milder” forms — during any period of childhood can have detrimental effects on the cognitive development of children and their later productivity as adults. In ways not previously known, undernutrition impacts the behavior of children, their school performance, and their overall cognitive development. These findings are extremely sobering in light of the existence of hunger among millions of American children.

Poor nutrition is one of the many ways that those who live in poverty are denied the opportunities to get out of poverty.

On the bright side, there are things we can do.

We can let our politicians know we find the current state of affairs unacceptable. We can give to food banks. There are organizations who are active in fighting hunger, and advocating changes that will prevent hunger. You can learn more about hunger, and hunger in the US and around the world, from a variety of groups, such as Second Harvest. In Massachusetts, there is Project Bread, a group that organizes an annual Walk for Hunger. (Don’t worry, though. The walk is not actually in support of hunger, but in support of efforts to eradicate hunger.)

more than I can chew?

bagel.jpgUm…I have a tendency to throw myself into things with great enthusiasm. And sometimes, this leads to me going a little bit crazy with the amount of things I commit to doing. This is one of those times.

Part of me thinks it’s not a terrible thing. When I get hyper-busy I often tend to get more productive and even overcome hurdles that have been holding me up.

I have thrown myself into several research projects for work/school, with goals of meeting deadlines for submitting to conferences in the next few months. One is even in the next few weeks.

I have commited to co-teaching a class in January, which I’m very excited about.

I told my violin teacher that I would play in the recital in early December.

And then not only did I sign on to blog every day for the month of November for NaBloPoMo, I’ve gone uber-crazy with enthusiasm for it. I’ve added a bunch of blogs to my feed-reading, and started a “group,” complete with its own blog.

You may also recall that I have various other roles that I play, such as “mother” and “wife,” as well as “daughter,” “sister,” “friend,” and “blithering idiot.”

What all of this means is that I will be spread particularly thin for the next few months. Like too little cream cheese for a really big bagel. Though there are some parts of the bagel that really require more cream cheese than others. It’s just possible that some parts of the bagel may get virtually no cream cheese. And I can only be thankful that bagels have a hole in the middle, meaning that at least some parts won’t require any cream cheese. I mean, if a Kaiser roll were the chosen baked-good metaphor for my life, there would be all that much more surface area. But why you’d want to go spreading cream cheese on a Kaiser roll is beyond me. It would probably totally fall apart, since it’s not as sturdy as a bagel. And I’m really hoping that the act of spreading myself around too thinly won’t lead to my life crumbling apart.

happy third second wedding anniversary

alejna_john_wedding_135.jpg Today is a happy day. It’s the anniversary of our wedding. Our second one. Wedding, that is. Not the second anniversary. It’s actually our third anniversay. Of our second wedding. (We celebrated the seventh anniversary of our first wedding back in December.)

I was glad we managed to have a fall wedding. (For the second wedding, that is.) I love the fall. I love crisp smell in the air when the days turn chilly. I love the way the angle of the afternoon sun makes the trees glow with their reds and yellows and oranges. I love the riot of colors, and the way the scene changes from day to day. I love to find fallen leaves in all their varied colors and shapes.

I had a beautiful drive on Monday, when I went to and from the farm to pick up my vegetables. I take some winding country roads, and go past quite a few farms. Over and over again I was struck by the scenery. An old tree-lined cemetery on a hill. An antique Colonial house, painted white with traditional black shutters, surrounded by towering maples of red and yellow. Red barns. White rail fences. Cows in the pastures. I drove past postcard scene after postcard scene.

I zipped along in my little car, heading towards home. I was singing along to music I like, with a trunk full of fresh vegetables. My eyes were feasting on the scenes around me. And I thought about how happy I am with my life.

I have so much, and so much going on. I get paid to do work that I love, and I work with pleasant, intelligent and fun individuals. I have a wide range of interests and activities, and the resources and health to enjoy them. I have a loving mother and sister, who are both also my good friends. I have a great family, and wonderful in-laws that have really made me feel like I’m part of the family. I have lots of good friends, some nearby, some far away, but each of whom adds something unique to my life. I have a comfortable home in a beautiful location. I have a healthy, wonderful, smoochable baby girl. And as if that weren’t enough, I’m married to the love of my life and my closest friend.

I am so very lucky it embarrasses me sometimes. How did I get so damn lucky?

my head is stuffed full of cotton wool

I’m a little shaky on cranial anatomy, but I’m pretty sure that some of the nooks, crannies and othr empty chambers inside my skull are currently stuffed full of cotton wool. Or cotton balls. Or maybe cotton candy.

I have a wee bit of a cold, making my head (more than usually) foggy. Yesterday was very foggy, due to the impending cold, and also due to 2 nights in a row of insufficient sleep. Because Phoebe got the cold first, and perhaps has been teething on top of that. We had mulitple night wakings. (Plus I never get to bed on time.)

Ideally shouldn’t have been driving yesterday. But I had to go into work, and wasn’t particularly sick (yet). I had planned to take the train in, but my autopilot kicked in, and I started driving towards Boston instead of towards the train station. And since I was running a few minutes behind, didn’t want to risk turning around only to miss the train anyhow. And then when I got off the Pike, the autopilot kicked in once more, and steered me into Boston instead of into Cambridge. Later in the day, when I actually did have to go back across the river into Boston, I was additionally rewarded with a parking ticket. Not for an expired meter. But for expired registration. I renewed my registration online last minute, but I hadn’t gotten the new sticker in the mail yet. And while it’s legal to drive as long as you have a printed copy of the email receipt in the car, the meter checkers apparently do not care about this. (And what’s especially irritating is that had I managed to actually take the train in, I wouldn’t have gotten the ticket. And I might have gotten a bit of a nap, potentially leading to clearer-headedness.)

Whine, whine, whine.

Anyhow, today was much better. Today was a “work from home day.” But I spent much of the day napping, figuring that I will work much better once I manage to remove the cotton balls from my head. (Don’t worry. I’m not planning on trying the surgery myself.) I did try doing some reading, but that is what (inevitably) led to the napping.

——

In other news, the wedding this weekend went very well. The hitching was quite hitchless, as these things go. Phoebe did a wonderful job as flower girl (did I mention she was going to be flower girl?), my pumpkin-colored shoes were surprisingly comfortable, and my strapless bridesmaid dress didn’t fall down. I got my hair and make-up done by professionals, which was a novel experience for me. And I think I cleaned up pretty well. John got some great pictures, too. (I’ve mentioned before that John is a very talented and skillful photographer. )

He’s posted one of me and Phoebe over at his blog that I like a lot. (Don’t I look girly in that picture, by the way? Especially for someone who has written about often wearing men’s clothes. I was tempted to entitle a post “I like to wear women’s underwear.” I don’t know why that amuses me so much.)

cereal: it’s what’s for dinner

Menu
Alejna’s Busy Day Bistro

Appetizers

Corn on the Couch
A paper bag filled with freshly popped kernels of corn. Skillfully microwaved, and usually not burned. Available with butter-like flavor or “natural” flavoring. Served on the sofa.

Lowering the Bar
A protein bar, grabbed out of cabinet. Eaten while driving to catch the train, or while otherwise multi-tasking. Hasty unwrapping leads to bits of chocolatey coating to be found stuck to clothing, providing a treat for later.

Entrées

Early Bird’s Special K
A bowl of cereal, eaten at the kitchen table.

Life is a Bowl of Cheerios
A bowl of cereal, eaten while standing in the kitchen.

Variety of Life
A bowl of cereal, regular or cinnamon flavored, eaten while sitting on the kitchen floor.

Multi-grain Pillows
A bowl of cereal, eaten while slouched on the sofa cushions.

Chef’s Gourmet Specials Tired

Cheddar Broccoli Pot Pie
Tender broccoli, carrots and potatoes in a rich, savory cheese sauce baked in a hearty whole wheat crust. Baked Fresh Daily.Purchased from grocery store, removed from freezer. Box opened, pie microwaved on high for 5 minutes.

Harvest Medley
Portobello mushrooms, sundried tomatoes and fresh asparagus in a garlic cream sauce a box of crackers served on a bed of house-made linguini, and garnished with micro arugula.

Napoleon de Goober
Alternating layers of sliced bread, ground peanut spread, and orchard fruit preserves. Cut in half and served with a fresh fruit garnish.

Desserts

October’s Bounty
A bag of miniature chocolate bars, purchased in advance for Halloween, hidden carefully at the back of the cabinets behind the dried beans. Eaten 1 or 2 3 or 4 at a time throughout the day, bag replaced in hiding place. Repeated until bag is empty.

Frozen Guilt
Pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Half-cup serving size presented in bowl, and served at dining room table. Once this is finished, the rest of the pint is eaten directly out of the container while sitting on the couch.

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This week’s Monday Mission placed orders for posts written in the form of a menu. Please note that I don’t always eat this way. But, well, there are days when the farm-fresh vegetables stay in the refrigerator.