The 8th Nerve

For the third day in a row, the sun is shining in a vast blue, blue western sky. The landscape stands out in sudden clarity in the crisp air. It feels like Vermont was suddenly relocated to Utah or Colorado. What a difference a little sun and sky make.

Steve took Casper to the vet for a little operation that make men everywhere wince involuntarily. I feel so guilty. Someday Casper will be in therapy and he and the therapist will trace all his issues back to the day that we, without any warning, took him to the vet and deprived him of his manhood. A friend of ours told us a horror story about how his friend had a really cool cat until he was neutered. When he returned home, he was never the same ever again (the cat that is, not the friend). So I am a little nervous. However, if Casper didn’t get neutered, I believe that he would single handedly tear down our place with crazed pent up energy and we will be forced to release him into the wild.

I was the one who took Aschi to the vet for a very similar purpose. I had to drop her off in the morning and pick her up at the end of the day. She was still very drugged and both of her back legs were still numb when I picked her up. I put her on the passenger seat. As I was driving us home, she started pulling herself towards me with her front paws, dragging her body behind her. She desperately wanted to sit in my lap. She started dragging herself over the gear shift between the seats. I could have wept, she looked so pitiful. I stopped the car and pulled her into my lap. How could she love me still after what I subjected her to? Surely she must harbor anger somewhere. Do animals have an unconscious? Can they be traumatized?

I’m so sorry, Casper. You’ll understand someday when you’re a parent. Uh, wait…I mean… never mind.

We had a fantastic weekend with my brother. We went up to Montreal, went to Peel Pub, where Jordan spilled beer all over my pants, then to a Moroccan restaurant where the interior made us feel like we were in a tent in the desert, and I spilled wine all over my pants. We had a nice long dinner and watched the belly dancing show (did you know that you have to have a bit of a belly to belly dance? Belly dancing celebrates having a belly. That’s awesome.) Then we went to a comedy show and were brutally made fun of because we were sitting up front and because we were Americans. However, most of it was very funny. We drove back and got home after 3 am. I was very sad to see Jordan go the next day. Come live here with us Jordan!

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Mar 30th 2004Uncategorized

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I am overcome with a silly, giddy mood. A good mood intermixed with a certain kind of energy.

When this mood overcomes me, my Mom would always catch the michievious glint in my eye and say in an amused warning tone “Uh oh.. this is when animals and small children get hurt..” Not that I would actually hurt animals and small children, I just like to mess around with them and make fun of them, when I am in this mood. My husband knows this mood well, as do my cats.

I cannot resist putting this picture up of my cutie patootie March birthday boy. If I could go back in time right now I would totally smoosh him with frosting and laugh.

My brother Jordan will be here soon! He is driving up from Boston to spend the weekend. I have not seen him since Christmas and I am very excited! Happy weekends everyone.

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Mar 26th 2004Uncategorized

[Disclaimer: this normal couple is not actually, literally, Steve and me. Steve likes the Dixie Chicks.]

If there’s anything my parents can do with incredible skill and grace and make it look so amazingly easy, that would be communication.

Hypothetical argument between a normal couple:
Him: Hey I thought of you while driving home and stopped and got you some ice cream. Here!
Her: Oh…thanks.
Him: What?
Her: Nothing.
Him: Fine, whatever, I just won’t go out of my way to do anything nice then.
Her: If you’re going to be so nice, you could at least get a flavor that I LIKE. Glad somebody’s paying attention.
Him: Oh yeah? Like the time you bought me that Dixie Chicks CD? I HATE THE FUCKING DIXIE CHICKS.
Her: Oh yeah? You’re a dixie chick.
Him: *storms off*

Hypothetical argument between my parents:
Dad: Hey I thought of you and picked up some ice cream. Here!
Mom: Oh…thanks.
Dad: What’s wrong?
Mom: Well it was really thoughtful of you, but it’s strawberry ice cream.
Dad: You eat strawberry ice cream.
Mom: That’s because you love strawberry ice cream, so I buy strawberry ice cream.

And somehow, through an ability so mysterious I cannot render it even in an example, my parents turn this experience into a funny joke and laugh about it, while still calmly acknowledging that sometimes Dad’s needs and preference take higher priority than Mom’s because sometimes he might unconsciously expect it and she might be a tad sacrificial about those kinds of things. Then the next day, Dad brings home peppermint ice cream.

Me: Holy hell, how do you do that?

I love you, Mom and Dad!

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Mar 24th 2004Uncategorized

Every night this past week it snowed, enough to blanket the morning when I wake up. I drive to work with my heater on full blast. Then the sun comes out, the snow melts, I can walk outside without a jacket. I drive home with the cool air on full blast.

This past weekend, the first official day of spring, the sun was gone entirely behind a stone white sky. The snow lingered, faded, then returned with a vengeance. I worked on my assessment and took a lot of naps. Steve and I saw Eternal Sunshine on the Spotless Mind which was excellent. Jim Carrey is amazing- his acting range from ballistic comedy to melancholy drama is unbelievable. Yet, he makes it believable. I can look at his sad, normal face and not experience intrusive images of him talking with his buttocks or see him sneering “LO-OSER. A LOO…HOOO..ZERR.” Now that’s something.

Steve and I have discovered a new, hitherto unknown, side effect of our comfy couches. We now fall asleep within 20 minutes of settling on the couches in a prone position. This is an unfamiliar sensation and somewhat disconcerting. It seems to be the final, undeniable hint that says “Yes, you are now one of those working adults who can’t make it to nine o clock without falling asleep.” We can’t hear you though, because we’re too busy drooling on the cushions.

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Mar 22nd 2004Uncategorized

Steve: “Ian Banks is a genius.”
Me: “You ate bags of cheese?”

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Mar 17th 2004I Misheard When

after i finally found my watch in the coat closet downstairs, my cat then hides all of the lids to my contact lens cases.

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Mar 16th 2004I Peeved When

i saw a bumper sticker that showed a W with a slash through it, and it said “let’s not elect him in 2004 either”.

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Mar 16th 2004I Laughed When

I used to pride myself on never getting sick. People around me will be dropping like flies, but through vitamin C and willpower, I do not get sick. However this winter I’ve had a bad cold and now I have a bizarre case of painfully tickly lungs that causes me to cough and cough. Everyone in my little office has this cough and when we’re all in the office at the same time we sound like a chorus of barking seals.

The particular jobs that I have worked since graduating from college have all made me very aware of age discrimination. Parents of the clients, in particular, who have their hackles raised like a rabid mother bear to begin with, smile frostily at me and I can see them analyzing and finding meticulous fault due to my age. In a field where so much value is placed on trust and experience, many times I’m doomed before I’ve begun because I look young, even younger than I am. Over and over I’m asked in a bright condescending voice “You look so young! How old are you?” Even in the middle of meetings concerning a client’s welfare, I’m asked this question. Usually asking one’s age is a very taboo question, especially in a work setting, but clients and coworkers alike seem to have no problem asking me this. I also get asked a lot if I’m a student, still in school, or just out of school. “Yes,” I say “graduate school.” I really need to come up with a response that, though friendly, still subtly points out how rude that question is, under the guise of supposed friendly interest.
“How old are you?”
“26. How much do you weigh?”

Something like that.

I’m further cursed because I have an acute sensitivity to people’s perceptions of me. When they are biased or judgmental or have expectations, I pick up on it, and often I find myself saying or doing something that confirms their expectations. It’s as if they bring it out. I am subtly different with most people I meet. This is a wussy quality to have. While the ability to read people is valuable, I need to be able to be my genuine self and not waver in the face of whatever people perceive or expect of me. And people are very discriminated against the young. Twenty years from now, if I find myself saying to a young clinician in a voice an octave or two higher than normal, “Gosh you look young! How old ARE you? someone please charge me with age harassment and shoot me.

I also get asked if I have children. A lot. And when I say I don’t, it further confirms people’s expectations that I don’t know the first thing about their children.

I think I’ll be one of the few who will be happy to see my reflection aging in the mirror. Finally I won’t have to overcome that initial suspicion, criticism and threatened look in some people’s eyes. Finally, people will trust me and warm up much more quickly when I have wrinkles and graying hair and wryly sympathize with them about children hitting puberty.

I can’t wait for that cellulite!

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Mar 16th 2004Uncategorized

Last night, after hanging out downtown fielding drunken incriminations from Robert, stinky Derrick car bombs, and Steve inadvertantly getting on the Channel 5 news we went and watched Johnny Depp have very bad hair for 2 hours.

Five years ago this month, when I was living in Wales, Steve and I took a 12 hour bus ride from London to Edinburgh. We took a backpacking tour out of Edinburgh through the highlands to the Isle of Skye. This was one of the most amazing trips we took, in that first year of our relationship.

Before I write about that, first I want to give two examples of times when the British were being completely serious but all it did was make me laugh until my bladder muscles were weak.

Example #1

Example #2

We took a little yellow bus with a tour guide named Clare. Our group consisted of a few other couples, a gaggle of Asians, and one whacky Canadian. When we were making introductions on the first day, a big 6 foot Chinese man stood up and said “My name is *indecipherable Chinese name*.” “But” he added, happily beaming, “call me Wayne!”. Steve and I would have done so if we were not so busy ducking behind the bus seat, shaking and snorting with laughter.

The bus trip took us out of Edinburgh and through a windy road that cut through purple, yellow, brown hills and snow topped mountains.

Clare was driving and yakking away the whole time and of course I couldn’t make out half of what she was saying. Finally I found a seating arrangment that put me at the right sort of angle to see her face in rearview mirror and by reading her lips I was able to follow most of it.

Over the next few days we made various stops at castles, Braveheart filming spots, historic battle sites, Loch Ness, ruins, several sites of myths and legend, geological formations, quaint inns with Scottish fare, hairy coos (Scottish cattle), fairy falls
and stone huts built by prehistoric man. I was so enthralled that a worried crinkle appeared between Steve’s eyes. “Do you love me more than Scotland?” he asked hopefully.

We took the long bridge over to the Isle of Skye and explored the small, closely knit island community. We checked into the lodge and I called my parents and all I remember is laughing and laughing and them commenting on how happy I sounded. After dinner Steve and I walked to the bridge and watched the sunset.
This view is with the sun behind us:

I thought of all the sunsets that have passed and that were yet to come of my finite lifetime. I fully, completely immersed myself in this moment. Steve and I looked at each other and I knew we had gone from being in love to really being in love and it was palpable in the air between us. Before you are gagging too much to continue reading, I will just add that it is one of those memories that will sustain me if I live to old age.

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Mar 13th 2004Uncategorized

I spent an inordinate amount of time last night trying to squelch a 1960’s poof in my hair that emerged dramatically after my shower. I looked a bit like a blond blue eyed Jackie O. Women probably once spent a lot of time obtaining that look, and here, in the 21st century, my hair does this of its own accord. Poof be gone!

Observations from my 3rd floor window at work:
1) A man squabbles with two policeman for at least a half hour and they make him take off his coat and his shoes for thorough inspection.
2) A scruffy, leg-less man in a wheelchair in the park across the street throws up on the ground. He throws up a couple more times, puts on his sunglasses and continues hanging out in the park with his dog.
3) A woman descends from a bus carrying a pillow and a giant stuffed dog twice the size of any normal, live dog.
4) In the past five minutes the sky darkened from blue to gray and snow has begun to fall.

I needed so badly to write but couldn’t think of anything to write about. I was empty and hungry and needed something but walked about for a half hour unable to find what I am looking for. Finally I bought a bagel.

I read an entire newspaper and it made me cry. Twice.

I think of the line from a poem I read in college: there’s something offkey and unkind, whatever it is, it bothers me all the time. I blame no one, but it meant I had to break a tie. Something I have never done before or thought I would ever do and when I reach that point it means I went through more suffering than you will know or understand. Sometimes, you have to let go completely in order to be free.

I didn’t do the reading I should be doing and lay on a comfy couch past my bedtime and laughed at Jamie Kennedy while Casper ran around going r-r-r-r-rEEEEE, r-r-r-r-r-EEEE! and any time I could reach out and know that Steve will be there for me, always.

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Mar 12th 2004Uncategorized