Category: life

half-brained

Tonight, my brain is tired. Very tired. Sleep deprived. Stressed.

We’ve come down to New York to visit John’s parents, since we haven’t been down here since before our big trip to Europe. It’s been about 2 months. We drove down last night. Left later than we meant. Hit more traffic than we anticipated. Arrived after midnight.

Phoebe slept in the car on the way down. And I largely did, too. (You’ll be happy to know that I wasn’t the one driving.) So the car sleep was dandy. But then, we were up. And visiting with Phoebe’s Grammy. And there were new toys. (Actually, some old toys that were John’s when he was little. But exciting and new to Phoebe.) There were delays of getting our stuff together, and putting together the travel crib.

Before we knew it, it was 2:00 a.m. While this may still be before last call at some bars, it’s a time of day that some might consider to be late for a toddler to be up. So we worked on winding back down. Pajamas. Reading books. A sippy cup of milk.

But Phoebe would not wind down. NOT. Nope. Nuh-uh. She was Awake. Wired. And when she realized that we were conspiring towards getting her into bed, she was also Not Happy. We had screaming and sobs the likes of which we had not seen or heard in many a month. The long and short of it was that it was 4:00 before she (and we) got to sleep.

She did sleep as late as 8:00 this morning, but all in all, it wasn’t enough sleep for her. So it was a bit of a rough day. And then tonight, we got home late too. (From visiting John’s dad and then picking up dinner from my favorite restaurant in the universe.) Not as late, but Phoebe had fallen asleep in the car and was Unhappy to be Awake, but Unwilling to be Asleep.

So the upshot is that now I am tired. And feel that I barely have half a brain left with which to function. But I did come across this test at Azahar’s place that lets me know a bit more about the halves of my brain. (Apparently, I’m supposed to have two halves.) It looks like I’m more right-brained. I thought I was more half-and-half brained. Or perhaps sometimes just half-brained.


You Are 30% Left Brained, 70% Right Brained


The left side of your brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning.
Left brained people are good at communication and persuading others.
If you’re left brained, you are likely good at math and logic.
Your left brain prefers dogs, reading, and quiet.

The right side of your brain is all about creativity and flexibility.
Daring and intuitive, right brained people see the world in their unique way.
If you’re right brained, you likely have a talent for creative writing and art.
Your right brain prefers day dreaming, philosophy, and sports.

pushover

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Phoebe and I went to the playground at our town park this morning before lunch. She’d been at daycare the past 3 days, and we didn’t get to spend much time together Monday, either. So I was determined we’d go do something fun together today.

The playground was more crowded than I’d ever seen it. Actually, there have been a number of times when we’ve been the only ones there, and other times when we’ve seen only a couple other kids. Today, though, there were a half dozen or so mothers there, and maybe 10 or so kids. I had the sense that a number of the mothers knew one another, so perhaps it was some sort of play group. A few of the mothers seemed moderately friendly, and I had at least one in-depth conversation about the the unexpected warmth of the day, and the duration of the recent rain shower.

There were several kids close to Phoebe’s size. Phoebe was interested in watching them, but didn’t interact much with them. There was a bit of smiling with one other toddler, and another kid who tried to get Phoebe to chase him, and then another kid (or maybe the same one) who tried to play with Phoebe. At some point, a couple of kids were walking away from the play equipment down a nearby path. Phoebe started to follow, from a bit of distance. One little boy, perhaps 2 years old, turned around and walked right up to Phoebe. I thought perhaps to meet her. He reached his hand out toward her, and I thought “how cute.”

Then he pushed her over. Gave her a good solid shove, and knocked Phoebe right over. Then he said something like, “you go back there.” Phoebe sat on the ground, and didn’t make a peep. She just looked. I was behind her, so I couldn’t see her face for the whole interaction. But she seemed, more than anything, surprised. Perhaps wondering if this was a usual form of interaction.

Anyhow, the mother asked her boy to apologize, and we wandered our separate ways without further incident. We climbed some more, and went down slides, I pushed Phoebe on the swing. Then we went home.

When we got home, I told John about our park visit. What was the first thing I told him about, do you think? I’m sure you guessed it. The shove. Even though there were more pleasant interactions, and lots of fun was had, the one brief mean act stuck with me. It was the first time that I knew of where Phoebe had been subjected to a random act of meanness. And as I mentioned the incident, Phoebe watched me very intently, her eyes huge. I realized that I was reinforcing her memory of the unpleasant incident. So I talked about all the goood things we did, and the nice kids.

This sort of thing happens so often. The one bad incident overshadowing the good ones. The one rude person making more of an impression than all the largely polite ones. I remember this a lot from working in retail. In a day when I’d help 100 moderately pleasant people, a single interaction with an asshole of a customer would tarnish my whole day. (Is it just me?)

Anyhow, it was a fun visit to the park, dammit.

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missing Red

Those of you who know us in real life know that we once had a dog. It doesn’t quite seem right to refer to Red as just “a dog.” Because he was really part of our family for many, many years. And he was really a remarkably wonderful dog. I’ve wanted to write about him for a while now.

It’s now been 2 years since Red died, and I still miss him very much.

If you ever call us on the phone, and we can’t get to the phone, we have an answering machine. Ever since John and I started living together, in our various homes, our answering machine message was always more or less the same: You have reached [our phone number], home of John, Alejna and Red. Please leave a message. This led many who called to believe that there were three humans living in our household, and occasionally that John and I had some sort of offspring.

At some point in this house, we got voicemail for our home phone, too. I don’t remember exactly why, but it came in handy if the power went out, or if we were unable to take a call that came in on call waiting. The message for that was the same as usual: You have reached [our phone number], home of John, Alejna and Red. Please leave a message. Except during that recording, Red barked.

After Red died, I changed the answering machine message. It made me too sad to reduce the names to just the two of us, so we just got the abbreviated version. You have reached [our phone number]. Please leave a message. But I didn’t want to record over the voicemail message, the one with Red’s bark. You see, it’s the only recording that I know of with Red’s bark. I don’t know if it means more to me than it would to other people since I work with sound, collect recordings as part of my professional work. Maybe any devoted dog-owner would feel equally attached to that one bark.

For the last 2 years I’ve intended to somehow retrieve that recording, and get it onto a computer. I know that there are ways to call phone numbers from a computer, such as Skype, but these generally involve a charge for that type of service. So I put it off. And the voicemail message stays the same.

People don’t often reach our voicemail, but it happens from time to time. Sometimes you just can’t gracefully switch over when a call comes in on call waiting. But I find myself rushing to try to answer the calls, to beat the voicemail. Because I’m sure it’s unsettling for people to get this message from another era, to hear that bark from the past.

a breath of relief

I learned today that John’s friend, the one who was hit by a truck, is doing incredibly, amazingly, almost unbelievably better. Not only is he now out of intensive care, but he is back home. The last I’d heard he was going to be transferred to a rehab hospital, but it turns out that it was only for a few days. He still has much recovery to do, as his injuries were extensive. But, wow. Just wow. I am so relieved, and thrilled for him and his family.

In other much less weighty news, I am also relieved that a party is now behind me. Today was a friend’s bridal shower. A surprise bridal shower. And I was, somewhat unwillingly, one of the instigators. I am one of the bridesmaids, and it was my job to bring the bride to her shower on the pretense of going to a bridesmaid’s dress fitting. And I really don’t do deception well. I can hide things, I’m reasonably good at plotting and planning, and kind of enjoy making stuff up. But I have trouble lying to someone’s face. I’m a terrible poker player, at least when it comes to the poker face part. Then there’s the whole issue of fearing I’ll spoil the surprise. (I did spoil the surprise for a surprise party once, in college. A friend told me that I was invited to a birthday party that a mutual acquaintance was throwing for her girlfriend. He didn’t mention that it was a surprise party, dammit, and when I saw the birthday girl I said I’d see her that weekend, or something. When I realized she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, I tried to cover it up, but the beans had been spillled. Spilled, I tell you. Damn beans. A word of advice to anyone inviting people to surprise party: specify that it is indeed a surprise party.) Anyhow, I did not blow the surprise this time. I feel that I am now one step closer to being qualified to become a criminal mastermind.

procrastinator’s horoscope for today…or tomorrow

The Procrastinator’s Horoscope, September 10, 2007:
For today or tomorrow. Or maybe some time later this week.

Aries (March 21-April 19): That deadline is fast approaching, so you’d best get cracking. That project absolutely needs to be done by Friday, and you have a lot of work left to do. Wait, Friday? That’s days away! I mean, practically a week. You can afford to spend a little bit of time online before you dig in. Surf’s up!

Taurus (April 20-May 20): It’s about time you wrote the email you’ve been putting off writing. It’s a sensitive matter, so make sure to choose your words carefully. Stare at your computer screen. Type “Dear Bob.” Wait, does “dear” sound to personal, or maybe too formal? Better delete that and start over. Type “Hey Bob!” No, that’s too informal. Delete that. Hey, look, you got an email! Your buddy sent you a link to a really funny YouTube video. Man, YouTube is cool. I wonder how many videos are up there that have “Bob” in their title?

Gemini (May 21-June 21): Before you get started on your day’s tasks, check on your blog, if you have one. How’s traffic on that last post? Any new comments? Any interesting search terms? How about now? Ok, that’s enough. Let’s get to work. But wait, any new comments now? What about now? Now? If you don’t have a blog, today would be a good day to start one. Maybe two.

Cancer (June 22-July 22): It’s time to pay bills again. Get yourself organized. You’ll need the checkbook, a pen, and some stamps. Oh, and the bills. Where are those bills? Oh, right. Under the pile of catalogs. Hey, what’s new at L.L. Bean, by the way? Didn’t you need to look for some gloves? Ooo, and look at that sweater on page 17.

Leo (July 23-Aug. 22): The day is already half gone, and you’ve barely even thought about the work you need to do. You must need some coffee. Go get some coffee right now. Go for a walk, even. You know, get that blood pumping. You can absolutely start working after you’ve had a quick walk and some coffee. And maybe a nap. Walks can zap the energy right out of you.

Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Your kitchen is a mess, and you have relatives coming over tomorrow. It’s time to scrub the floor, clear off the counters, clean out the furry things from the fridge, and tackle that huge pile of dishes. But have no fears, cleaning can be fun with the right tunes. Maybe you should put together a cool playlist on iTunes. You might need to add to your collection a bit to get just the right mix, too.

Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 23): It’s about time you got around to sorting through that pile of boxes in the basement or closet. Start by restacking the boxes neatly. Doesn’t stacking boxes remind you of Tetris? I bet you can find Tetris online these days.

Scorpio (Oct. 24-Nov. 21): If you don’t do laundry today, you won’t have any clean socks to wear tomorrow. Gather up your dirty clothes, and sort through them. That’s a cool shirt. Didn’t you want to get another one like that in another color? You’d better go buy one now before they run out. You can buy socks for tomorrow, too, while you’re at it.

Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): Today is the day to start being more productive. Absolutely today. The first step is to make that decision. See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? The next step is to get yourself savvy about the ways of the uber-productive, by reading some books or websites or something. Write that down on a Post-it. Aren’t Post-its cool? Hey, remember how Romy and Michelle pretended to have invented Post-its? That was a funny movie. Put it on your Netflix queue. Wow, it’s been a while since you’ve updated that queue.

Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): With fall around the corner, now would be a good time to finally start that home repair project. Before you get going, make sure you have all the supplies you’ll need. You’d better check in some home reference books for details. Or maybe some magazines. Or wait, isn’t there a home improvement network on TV?

Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): Spend at least an hour futzing around before you consider attempting anything. For good measure, you may also want to loaf, putter, amble and goof off. Time’s a wasting. That’s your motto. Or make that “Time’s for Wasting.”

Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20): Just stay in bed today.

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Brought to you by this week’s Monday Mission, which solicits posts written in the form of a horoscope.

to(o)ma(ny)to(matoes)

tomato_eggs2.jpgI head to the farm for my next load of vegetables tomorrow, and I fear I may be buried in tomatoes. For some reason or another, I’ve been having trouble keeping up with them. It could be that I’ve received 30 pounds of tomatoes in the past 3 weeks, and that I’m pretty much the only one in the house who eats them. I do love tomatoes, but I seem to have my limits. There were even a couple of days when I didn’t eat any tomatoes. Tonight, if I can get myself motivated enough, I plan to roast up a bunch of the smaller tomatoes with garlic, for some sort of sauce, which I’ll then freeze. I also haven’t managed to cook up my pretty eggplants, and I’l be sad if they get demoted to compost. But I’m a bit wiped out to start cooking.

I just got Phoebe off to bed, an hour and a half late. Phoebe and I went on an excursion to meet a friend, involving visiting a playground, and then dinner out. We didn’t get home until almost 8:00. Yes, I realize that in a previous life, 8:00 would be time to go out, not late to get home. But, you see, Phoebe’s bed time is 7:30. I can never quite figure out how to fit things together without messing up Phoebe’s schedule when we go out. She naps right smack in the middle of the day, from about 12:30 or 1:00 to around 2:00 or 2:30. I hate to have Phoebe miss a nap (for many, many reasons), and while she will sometimes sleep in the car, it results in a 20 to 30 minute nap instead of the usual 1 to 2 hours. So we often try to wait till after the nap to go out. But that almost invariably leads to a later bedtime. Arg. It’s worth it to get out of the house, though, I suppose.

John has just left this afternoon for a short trip to the west coast for some business, which means I get to do the solo parenting thing for a couple days. I’m cheating a bit by having Phoebe go to daycare an extra day. I have my violin lesson tomorrow, and John usually stays with Phoebe when I go to that. My other options were to cancel my lesson, or bring Phoebe (an event which I can envision, but which would likely result in a less than ideal learning experience). I opted for a fourth day of daycare, rather than switching a day. Because since John will be away, my working time will be otherwise reduced. And I’ve had a very productive past couple of weeks, and want to keep rolling with that.

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the week catches up with me

I am feeling totally zonked. Wiped out. I had a good day at work today, but it was a long, long day. Yesterday was a long day, full of running around to appointments. Sunday was a fun day, but a long day. And Saturday was a long day, and really no fun at all. I’m feeling the stress of the past week catching up with me this evening.

Last Tuesday night we heard the news that a good friend of John’s was…and it seems hard to even write this…hit by a truck. He’s alive, but in critical condition. It seems his car broke down on the highway last Monday night, and he was hit by a tractor-trailer while standing outside his car. The full details aren’t known, as he hasn’t been conscious since then.

We’ve been thinking about him and his family a lot this past week, and eagerly awaiting updates. There’s been some improvement. But there are still many unknowns about how things will turn out.

To make it all more stressful, his wife is 8 months pregnant. I can hardly imagine what she is going through, to have her life turned upside-down like this while being hugely pregnant and getting ready for a new baby. They also have a 4-year-old. At least she has family close by. I feel like I should help, but they are 2 hours away, and I’m not sure how I could help. I will try to think of a way to help, especially once the baby is born. But tonight I just feel stretched so thin.

We drove down to the hospital Saturday, with Phoebe. John and another close friend were able to see their friend, though officially only immediate family members were allowed into the ICU.

This is the sort of thing that makes you think. I’ve been looking at those big tractor-trailers on the highway, and I find their size to be so threateningly large, their mass to be so very unequivocally solid. I’ve been thinking about how fragile we are, in our little breakable bodies.

And I’ve been thinking about how we need to make plans and provisions for Phoebe, that we still haven’t dealt with. A will. Life insurance. We need to talk about things that are not easy to talk about. Make provisions for things we’d rather not think about.

It’s one of those times when I feel like I can’t possibly be old enough to be a responsible adult.

magical mystery fruit

Roll out for the mystery fruit. Step right this way.

Yesterday, John, Phoebe and I took the train into town to attend the Cambridge Carnival International, a primarily Caribbean street festival in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

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We got there a bit on the early side, so things were pretty tame when we arrived. Things got quite a bit more crowded as the afternoon progressed, though. There were lots of international food vendors there, which was exciting. (The vegetarian options were somewhat limited though. We ended up getting some so-so Indian food that had probably been cooked the day before.) We mostly spent the time at the festival wandering back and forth, taking some pictures, listening to the music, and looking at people. There were lots of non-food vendors, too, mostly in stalls. I went wild and got a tattoo. Well, I went very moderately wild and got a temporary tatoo. (Anyone want to guess what image I chose?)

At some point, we wandered past a woman selling mangos and some other kind of fruit, sitting on a chair in the road median with a stack of boxes. There was a little ring of people around her, buying this green fruit. I couldn’t identify the fruit as we walked past. Later, I noticed people walking around eating this fruit, and saw some green rinds on the ground (scattered among the bits of sugar cane that people had gnawed on). Towards the end of our festivating, I walked past this fruit woman again. There was no crowd this time. I watched her crack one of the green fruits open in her fingers, and pop the fleshy fruit insides of it into her mouth. She then rolled it around in her mouth a bit. I was intrigued.

“How much are they?” I asked, avoiding trying to name them. I didn’t ask their name. In part to seem as if I knew what I was doing, in part to keep the mystery. I bought a baggie of them for 3 dollars.

I’ve eaten a couple of them, still without knowing what they are. They are sweet with a slight bitterness to them, that reminds me a bit of underripe bananas, and which left my tongue feeling slightly furry and numb. The fruit is almost all pit, explaining why the woman rolled it in her mouth. It seems you sort of suck on the pit, and chew the fruit off. They are about the size of a walnut, with a rind that comes off easily, and that resembles a lime peel.

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These are photos of some fruit I bought yesterday. I have no idea what it is. It is definitely tropical. Probably Caribbean. Can anyone name that fruit?

In related news, today was farm day for me once more. Meaning I headed back to the farm for my week’s CSA share. Like last week, the share included 10 pounds of tomatoes. I have been working on last week’s tomato haul, but still have quite a few left. (By the way, my photo of last week was of only a portion of the tomatoes.)

Here are my remaining tomatoes of last week, probably about 4 pounds. (Note: the small person standing in the photo is not a tomato.):

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Below is this week’s full 10 pounds. (Not including last weeks remnants.) They include a lot more yellow and orange varieties. (Notice the large, orange brain-shaped one on the right?)

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I also got some husk tomatoes, which were an exciting discovery for me. They were pick-your-own, and I opted out of them last week due to Phoebe’s mood. But I went solo today, and decided to pick-my-own. We could gather a pint total of cherry tomatoes and husk tomatoes. The farm apprentice gave me the low down on the picking before I headed to the fields, including the details the husk tomatoes are ripe when the husks are brown, and the ones that have already fallen on the ground are often the best.

I decided to try the husk tomatoes first, as I was curious. (I’m always game to try a new fruit or veggie.) I tasted the first one I found, and wow! Them’s good eatin’! I decided to gather my whole pint of husk tomatoes. These are tiny little things, though they seem to grow in other sizes, too. Each is the size of a large blueberry, and is wrapped in a little balloon of husk. They taste very sweet, more like a berry or a currant than a tomato. (Tomatoes are berries, after all.) These may also be the same fruit that is known as a ground cherry, and are akin to tomatillos.

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These are the husk tomatoes I picked. I put in an averaged sized regular red tomato for scale. (Note that the plate in this photo is a smaller plate than the ones used in the big tomato photos above.)

the finger and 10 pounds of tomatoes

Vacation‘s over, and I’m back to the grind. Which in my case involves the violin and vegetables.

My CSA haul of this week featured 10 pounds of tomatoes. 10 freakin’ pounds. I’ve never had that many tomatoes before. There are quite a range of types, including some heirloom varieties, and I took a photo to document their pretty tomato-ness. (I didn’t arrange my tomatoes as artfully as jenny’s WTVG display, though.)

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The most creative I have gotten with the tomatoes so far is to slice up a bunch of the little yellow ones on a plate, and pour some bottled salad dressing over them. (It was decent salad dressing, at least. Some sesame and lime stuff.) I even ate a tomato whole and plain, like an apple, while still at the farm. I’d forgotten to bring along a snack for Phoebe for the trip down to pick up the veggies, and her temper indicated hunger. I hoped we could snack on a nice fresh tomato, but while she was willing to taste it, she was not willing to ingest more than a bite. So I ate the whole tomato myself, sitting in the car, with a cranky toddler on my lap. So perhaps that was a more creative tomato experience than the slices on a plate.

The violin lesson yesterday was a mixed bag, too. I had not actually even opened my violin case since the previous lesson, 3 weeks before. Considering this, I played not too horribly. The first song came through moderately well. The second, on the other hand, led to a discussion of how my hand position needs adjusting and how I tend to overshoot the fourth finger position. I’m convinced that at least part of the problem is the way my little finger bends. I can’t move my damn pinkies smoothly. They sort of jerk and pop, and my muscle control is poor. I feel like I need to develop a workout routine for my pinky to build up its strength and dexterity. (I’m envisioning something set to the Rocky theme song.)