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Today is our anniversary. We have been together for 11 years.
I met Someone while on holiday in 1997. I wasn’t expecting this. It was the social hour at Big Ruby’s guesthouse and he was at the table. We started talking. And here we are 11 years later.
I sometimes wonder why he sticks around. My tendencies to blurt and be distracted drive him bats. He sits still; I am nearly always in continuous motion. When I moved in with him, I came with all my quirks, cats, season tickets to the opera, and my large and extended (ADHD) family.
If he had only asked a few logical questions when he first met me, perhaps he would have put himself at healthy distance from someone like me – or at least find a boyfriend-doctor who does a billable procedure ! But he ‘sticks around’, for which I am grateful.
It is nice to have him in my life. After 11 years I can not imagine life without him. He takes care of me, and keeps me anchored. Through him I have learned a lot. He is knowledgeable about plays and the theatre and how it works. I have gone on cruise holidays because of him; I doubt I would have ever experienced that sort of vacation if it were not for him.
We will go to a dinner theatre show tonight. As we will both be ‘post-work’ I suspect we will eat, have a drink, and promptly nod off. We are quite the middle aged couple. But such is life and love and growing older.
I am glad for having someone – Someone – with whom to nod off and wake up.
Someone has a crock-pot. I never had one, so I am not familiar with how it can be utilized. He tends to use it for one thing: a very nice recipe for meatballs with pineapple bits.
Once upon a time, Maddog (the dear) from A Mad Dog in the City sent me a recipe for Spaghetti pie, which is made in a crock-pot. This worked well, so it inspired me to do more. I like to cook, and I like to use the things around the house. I have an itch to learn what can be done with a crock-pot.
Last week I succumbed to one of the items you see at eye level while waiting for the clerk to ring up your groceries. Between the candies and the gossip magazines was a little book titled “Crock Pot cooking made simple”. It guaranteed easy to make dishes. I bought it on impulse. To justify such folly, I vowed to make at least a few recipes from the booklet.
Each recipe calls for only a handful of items – some vegetables, some meat, and some additives. You put it all in layers, turn on the heat to ‘low’, go to work and voila! You return home at the end of the day to supper.
It makes me giddy to have something heating/turned on at home while I am away. I fear that I will come home not to a supper but a burned down house.
The first dish was a disappointment. It sounded good – chicken with sweet potatoes – but the honey mustard sauce it called for was a nauseated shade of green/yellow. It looked like bile. The chicken and sweet potatoes were overcooked – I got home late so they cooked longer than indicated.
Anyone out there have a fabulous crock-pot recipe?
Please share and I will try it.
I seem to be in a creative slump again. The Muses are used to me being in Key West this week; I sense they went away (as is their wont at this time of year). I hope they are getting some sun. Perhaps they are visiting the Furies – it is always a hot time there. That leaves me by myself.
What to write about…….
Sometimes I feel I have said everything to say. I have a tendency to pick up a hobby, run with it for a while, and then put it down in lieu of a new one. Never fear; I am not closing up the blog!
Spo-Reflections is approaching its 2nd birthday in the next month. It makes me ponder what I am doing. I hope I am adhering to my primary goal of blogging as an outlet for creative writing. I have to watch this. I catch myself eager for comments and sometimes write things ‘to get comments’. This feels wrong. Besides, I’ve learned I can’t predict comments. I am continually surprised what scribble of mine get responses. I sometimes write thinking ‘this will be popular’ only to sense no one enjoyed it. At other times an entry written in haste without process evokes a lot of comments. Blogging is incalculable.
My mother is a very nice woman who would not say anything bad about a person no matter what. She is also a long time member of several women’s church groups. How she does both I don’t know.
Here is a list: “10 statements women can’t say, but might think”.
I wonder if mother ever thought them.
1. That’s the fourth time she has used that excuse.
2. They are dying like flies around here. If I have to bring in another cake I think I will scream.
3. Don’t call me for anything. I’m too busy.
4. Get some of the younger ones to do it.
5. Let’s cater the darn thing instead.
6. It’s about time we started using paper plates.
7. I can’t work (given without an explanation).
8. I haven’t seen the pastor’s wife get her hands in a sink of water yet.
9. Nobody wants a big meal for a 3 o’clock funeral, that’s for sure. Sandwiches will just have to do.
10. Let’s keep it simple.
There are two birthday boys today –
Lewis Caroll
And
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Act accordingly.
In honor of the day – this quote hangs in a big picture in my office.
“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don’t much care where – “ said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“ – so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.
“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”
Now, go play some Mozart !!
The week was far too busy. There is always a time crunch when one of two things happen – I get a lot of new patients or there are evening events. New patients mean I need to find time to dictate the notes. Normally I do this in the evening after work. If we are doing things in the evening then there is no time to dictate. “Having a life” interferes with work.
I have 10 reports to do this weekend. These people didn’t lack variety; there was an 87 year old man having panic attacks and a few young men devastated their wives are leaving them. One poor soul came home from a Christmas holiday back East only to discover the house had burned down.
I went to the doctor to get a work-mandatory TB test. My kvetch was I had to return after 2 days to ‘have it read’. I pointed out to the tech I could read it as well as anybody and I would call her with the results. This was not acceptable; so I have to go downtown for the 5 seconds it took her to see the (negative) results.
My lipid profile is slightly better, attributed to exercise.
Speaking of exercise, my personal trainer continues to torture work me hard. I give the fellow credit; I would not do a fraction of this stuff left alone. Most of his proposals evoke either ‘you’ve got to be joking’ or ‘you’re effing mad’. But his job is to push me.
I have not gained a pound but apparently the body fat % is going down, so I am turning adipose to lean muscle mass.
I got as far as cutting out the pieces for my new holiday shirt (see 7 January). I’ve not had time to start sewing it up. It should be fabulous though.
We are being cheap still haven’t turned on the heat; I think we are trying to go for a winter without having to turn on the furnace.
So the weekend is here – I need to tidy up the messes around the house, and do more laundry. For some reason I generate 3-4x as much laundry as Someone.
I am overdue reading my blogs. I suppose I could cut them down or out but I really like to see how these 40-50 people are doing.
Good night and see you all this weekend.
With rare exception, I eat alone at lunch time. In the past 15 years, my jobs have been so I don’t have co-workers with whom to have lunch or the co-workers can’t connect to have lunch. There were some times the co-workers didn’t make such good lunch company. There was also the temptation to run out when I can, gobble, and get back to work as soon as possible.
Eating alone has its benefits. I often read journals and papers. Unfortunately I tend to spill when I am not paying attention to my plate – it is one of the main reasons why I wear bowties.
Sometimes I get to hear other people’s cell phone calls or conversations. People think people eating alone are deaf. I have heard many a fanciful conversation at counters and in fast food joints. It is free entertainment. Sometimes it is annoying – today I overheard a rather loud man talking nonstop about his operation.
Overall eating alone is either a dull or a sad past time. I think too much about the lonely situation I have at work. Eating alone touches a memory of the times I was growing up and ‘forced’ to eat alone or elsewhere (although there is some consolation these kids have grown up to become my patients).
I get tempted to ask a fellow ‘eating alone’ person if they want to join me for company, not unlike the scene in Moonstruck where Olympia D. asks another person eating alone to join her for dinner.
It is not a major issue, but I experience it every work day.
A Spo-fan sent me this from the on-line encylcopedia.
In the fictional universe of Babylon 5, spoo is a valuable and highly desired food product. Made from the alien worm-like creatures of the same name, spoo is considered to be the most delicious food in the galaxy, regardless of which species is asked. Although it is a universally loved foodstuff and an actively traded commodity, the creature itself is regarded with contempt by the races that consume it.
Since its introduction on the Babylon 5 television series, spoo has remained popular among fans of the science fiction saga, spawning everything from attempts to cook their own version of spoo, to fan fiction related to the creatures. “Spoo” is also used variously outside the Babylon 5 universe and fan community as a nonsense word.
Today is St. Agnes day, traditionally the coldest day of the year; from now on it only gets warmer – except in Michigan, where it will remain cold only to suddenly go to hot in early June. Every year on this day I read the poem ‘Eve of St. Agnes Day” by Keats.
Often on this day we are either preparing or already on our winter holiday. This year it is delayed until middle February. We are going with DougT of Gossamer Tapestry and his partner Leon A.K.A the Wild One on a week long cruise. We four set up our shore excursions. Douglas has us all hiking to someplace named the “Island of Desolation”. Sounds jolly, no?
Last weekend was filled with decadent homosexual lifestyle behavior: we did a lot of laundry, I ironed some shirts, we went to the grocery store, and did some exercise.I just hope I did not wreck anybody’s marriage in the process.
When we get visitors to AZ, we get them starting about now – family and friends wanting to escape the Midwest winter. Before spring time, our “B & B” will host my parents, my friend Joel, Jack Radcliffe, and Someone’s niece.
I will fly back to Michigan at Easter time to hear my mother sing Mozart’s Requiem. I hope to get to Ann Arbor to see some friends as well.
The home computer is being difficult. I have a theory it gets overheated and thus slows down. Someone thinks this not likely. So it must be due to gremlins or Mr. Gate’s crafty minions reeking havoc to annoy and generally make life irritating.
Several of my blogging buddies are dealing with sickness or depression or financial stress. I hope and pray for their well-being. I believe sending them positive energies is helpful.
On the first day of my psychiatry rotation in medical school the professor welcomed us and announced we were to attend a lecture that afternoon with a Dr. Feldman, who would be teaching some introductory topics.
The professor told me to ask Dr. Feldman the following question –
“Dr. Feldman, I see you are graying and balding. How come you don’t dye your hair or get a rug?”
I was dubious to say such a rude thing, but I sensed I was being set up for something.
We met Dr. Feldman who was indeed graying and balding. I said my rehearsed statement. Without batting an eye (or hitting me) he replied:
“Because this is who I am. Self-esteem ultimately comes from inside, not from outside trappings.”
He went on to talk about how growing up and growing old and being content with who we are – ‘warts and all’ – was one of the main goals of our lives.
I think about Dr. Feldman whenever I see people with face lifts, botox treatments, and (obvious) plastic surgeries. Would he approve? Do these maneuvers count towards self-esteem or divert away from working on one’s true Self?
A neighbor (who has a history of ‘having work done’) gave me at Christmas a bag of grooming products to help with baggy eyes, balding scalp, bad skin and dull teeth. At first I was touched, then amused; now I feel a bit off by it.
I once dyed my beard to take out the gray but thought it looked ‘not me’. I have earned that gray. I have never felt bad about growing old – I know too many people who did not live to grow old and complain about baggy eyelids.
In the past years, a few acquaintances with plastic surgeries have dropped off contact with me. I suspect it is because we are the same age or they are older – yet they look younger. I may make them look bad viz. “You can tell the other one has had work.”
I suspect I will be leaving this world mostly ‘as is”
Dr. Feldman would be pleased.
Spo-Reflections 