So this summer's adventure is going to be . . . vegetables!
Yeah, I know, I'm the last person in the universe to sign up for a CSA share (a small share, actually, because I'm not trying to feed a family of four). I found one that had a long list of stuff I like (or even love), and, even cooler, they deliver to your door. Yes, there's a charge for that, but it also means I don't have to haul a half a bushel of produce on a bus or el. Total cost is going to be less than $25/week. Okay, still not exactly cheap, but a half a bushel of fresh organic produce, delivered to my door, every week, plus I get to support a local farmer? Sounds good to me.
And, really, it will keep me from wandering through the farmers markets, overloading myself with stuff that then must be hauled and that proceeds to get mauled by bumping around in my bags for the duration of the travel. I'm still going to need to buy fruit and honey, but I'm okay with that. I'm also going to do what I did last year with the blueberries: buy a big wad and then freeze them into small bags for dumping into oatmeal.
I will probably freeze a lot of stuff from this effort, and I"m okay with that, too. I already buy frozen vegetables a lot of the time, precisely to avoid things turning into a science project in the fridge. In short, I wouldn't be surprised if my 30 weeks of produce ends up lasting for a lot of the year. Some of it--winter squash, anyone?--already lends itself to keeping; I still have two butternut squashes from last fall sitting on my counter. Other bits, like herbs, I'll probably chop and freeze as herb pestos; easy enough to hack off a little, and I have found, from my basil pesto operations, that, if you squish the pesto to the bottom of the baggie and squeeze out the air, the pesto log will last for years. Once you start hacking bits off--and break the seal, basically--it can get a little freezer burned, but I've also learned to make the logs relatively small.
I am so tired.
This week has been full of more stress--yesterday I discovered that I had forgotten two providers in our budgets. (All people currently on staff were supposed to already be preloaded in the system, but these two were not, possibly because they started relatively recently; I half-noticed they weren't there last week, but then must have gotten distracted by something else, or figured I couldn't find them, or whatthefuckever, and . . . just forgot to deal with it. Luckily I found it yesterday, and then there was a great flurry of finding $150k in an already very very tight budget, not to mention the fun part of saying to my boss, and his/her boss, and the finance person, "Ummm, people? I fucked up."
It was sort of interesting. The finance person--with whom I have had go-rounds, and whom I still do not entirely trust--was dismayed, but was also very pleased that I HAD found it, and, more important, had called everyone's attention to it now, (a day) before it all goes to the finance committee of the board for approval--insisted that I should not be the one to call it to the attention of my boss's boss. And my boss was fine with it--other than the stress of the steps we have to take to find the money--and my boss's boss was concerned that I not be upset, commenting that it was just a mistake, and finally I have made one (??has s/he not paid attention to my multiple other errors??), and yay on me for catching it now. S/he insisted my boss come find me and tell me not to stress about it.
Wha??
It's especially interesting because, earlier in the day, s/he had sent this completely snotty email complaining that we hadn't sent something s/he requested, and what I sent was still not what s/he wanted, and, as the Muckety-Muck, s/he thought s/he could ask for that. (Actually s/he HAD received what was requested, but apparently failed to understand that, which really made us roll our eyes.) As a result of that exchange, though, I said to my boss that the thing I hate most about that attitude is that it fosters an atmosphere where people are afraid to make mistakes and, when they do, are more likely to cover them up rather than own up to them. So, yes, this person managed to display both sides of the coin in the same eight hours.
I really, really hate when I fuck up like that. Yes, not every day can be a good day. Yes, we all make mistakes. And so on. That doesn't make the finding-and-owning-up process any more pleasant. But the alternative makes me even more queasy. The thought of knowing that we had that big a hole in the budget but not saying anything about it makes my stomach clench even tighter. I mean, seriously; what was I going to do?
And, of course, there's always the temptation to find someone else to blame--why weren't they already in the budget? why didn't anyone else catch it? why are we paying administrative fees if we don't get the help we need?--and I just swallowed it. It was my responsibility; no one else's. And I can also see the systemic changes we need to reduce the chance of it happening again, which is even more important.
The good parts--and there are a few--are that I did catch it in time, and that I've identified a couple of gaps in the system, and, finally, everyone really was very supportive, rather than critical or finger-pointing. But I would really rather not go in today and find more issues like that, thanks so much.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
More Nothing
Okay: we haven't had much food blogging of late, so let's talk recipes, shall we? Last night's concoction is from the Moosewood Low-Fat Cookbook, which may be my single favorite cookbook ever; it's certainly in the top five. The recipe is for Lentil Sambar or some such, and it includes lentils, cauliflower, sweet potatoes, and a bunch of spices. The pot I used is quite large and does not have a lid, so the potatoes and cauliflower took forever to cook, but it was quite tasty.
I didn't have the mango peach chutney (recipe in the book, too), but I had some apricot ginger chutney in the fridge--only four years old--and threw some of that on it, and I added some brie while I was at it, thinking the ammonia of the brie and the creaminess would make a nice complement to the warmth of the spices. I liked it a lot, because of the complex flavors, but it may not have been to everyone's taste; hard to say.
Tonight's dish, from the same cookbook, is supposed to be garlicky black-eyed peas and greens (kale, in my case, though you could use collards or mustard greens or presumably even beet greens or swiss chard). You cook the beans with some cloves of garlic, saute the greens quickly with more garlic, mix them, serve over rice.
I, of course, must fiddle with the recipe. I added some fresh ginger to the pot in which the beans and garlic cooked, and I added a diced sweet potato (I had bought two, but they were large, so one was enough last night0 and an onion to the pan in which the greens were cooked, and served tonight's over whole wheat pasta instead of rice. It was quite tasty, at least to me.
Which is always an issue on some level. I put combinations together that I wouldn't necessarily serve to anyone else. Friend is pretty willing to try my experiments, and, for that matter, Chuck was, too, but I try not to come up with anything too crazy if I know someone else is going to be eating it. I think part of that is because I don't necessarily make the same thing the same way twice--the brie was quite good in last night's dinner, but I wouldn't go out and buy brie just for that; same with the chutney. I happened to have both around, and I thought the flavors and textures would complement the curried cauliflower, and I was right, but it would have been quite tasty on its own. Tonight I ended up with more of the beans/potatos mix than I had greens to go with it, so I froze some of the beans/potatos in separate containers and I'll mix it with spinach or whatever I have handy when I make it for dinner, or I could have the beans/potatos over rice. And so on.
Part of the point of yesterday's and today's cooking was to fill the freezer with lunches. I'd depleted most of my stores before the move, to reduce the amount of food that had to be moved, but it's time to stock up again and start eating (and exercising!!) in a more healthy manner.
This weekend's other challenge was convincing my mom to take my dad to an acupuncturist. His full-body rash continues; it can only be kept under any kind of control when he's taking steroids, and, even then, he's itching all the time. It's been going on for six months, and no one seems to know what it is or what to do about it, and it's getting him down. I pointed out to my mom that it wouldn't hurt him--it might not help, but it won't hurt--and that western medicine hadn't actually done much for him so far. And I think I got through to her. I'm going to try to find a few accredited people near where they live (the google is a wonderful deity), and I think she's ready to go for it.
The biggest problem is that the person who sounds like he might be best is Taiwanese--which is a problem only because, if the website is any indication, his English isn't terribly fluent. My dad is already nearly deaf, even with hearing aids, so thick accents pose an additional difficulty in understanding. Given that it's a modality with which he has no experience, understanding is probably key. The other part of that is that nearly everyone will want to give him herbs, and I can tell you that ain't happening.
I'll keep looking, though; the fact that my mom is agreeing with it is a sign of just how bad it's gotten for my dad. And, really, it would be nice if something helped.
The other thing I got, from my acupuncturist, is a list of foods that supposedly help with "yin deficiency." I was laughing with my mom today, because a number of things on the list are not things that my dad is going to be eating (he loathes asparagus, for example, and I don't expect my dad to be eating mung bean sprouts any time either). But other stuff, yeah, so I'll send the list to my mom, along with some dead sea salts (for bathing) and some cream with calendula in it. Cross your fingers that something works.
I didn't have the mango peach chutney (recipe in the book, too), but I had some apricot ginger chutney in the fridge--only four years old--and threw some of that on it, and I added some brie while I was at it, thinking the ammonia of the brie and the creaminess would make a nice complement to the warmth of the spices. I liked it a lot, because of the complex flavors, but it may not have been to everyone's taste; hard to say.
Tonight's dish, from the same cookbook, is supposed to be garlicky black-eyed peas and greens (kale, in my case, though you could use collards or mustard greens or presumably even beet greens or swiss chard). You cook the beans with some cloves of garlic, saute the greens quickly with more garlic, mix them, serve over rice.
I, of course, must fiddle with the recipe. I added some fresh ginger to the pot in which the beans and garlic cooked, and I added a diced sweet potato (I had bought two, but they were large, so one was enough last night0 and an onion to the pan in which the greens were cooked, and served tonight's over whole wheat pasta instead of rice. It was quite tasty, at least to me.
Which is always an issue on some level. I put combinations together that I wouldn't necessarily serve to anyone else. Friend is pretty willing to try my experiments, and, for that matter, Chuck was, too, but I try not to come up with anything too crazy if I know someone else is going to be eating it. I think part of that is because I don't necessarily make the same thing the same way twice--the brie was quite good in last night's dinner, but I wouldn't go out and buy brie just for that; same with the chutney. I happened to have both around, and I thought the flavors and textures would complement the curried cauliflower, and I was right, but it would have been quite tasty on its own. Tonight I ended up with more of the beans/potatos mix than I had greens to go with it, so I froze some of the beans/potatos in separate containers and I'll mix it with spinach or whatever I have handy when I make it for dinner, or I could have the beans/potatos over rice. And so on.
Part of the point of yesterday's and today's cooking was to fill the freezer with lunches. I'd depleted most of my stores before the move, to reduce the amount of food that had to be moved, but it's time to stock up again and start eating (and exercising!!) in a more healthy manner.
This weekend's other challenge was convincing my mom to take my dad to an acupuncturist. His full-body rash continues; it can only be kept under any kind of control when he's taking steroids, and, even then, he's itching all the time. It's been going on for six months, and no one seems to know what it is or what to do about it, and it's getting him down. I pointed out to my mom that it wouldn't hurt him--it might not help, but it won't hurt--and that western medicine hadn't actually done much for him so far. And I think I got through to her. I'm going to try to find a few accredited people near where they live (the google is a wonderful deity), and I think she's ready to go for it.
The biggest problem is that the person who sounds like he might be best is Taiwanese--which is a problem only because, if the website is any indication, his English isn't terribly fluent. My dad is already nearly deaf, even with hearing aids, so thick accents pose an additional difficulty in understanding. Given that it's a modality with which he has no experience, understanding is probably key. The other part of that is that nearly everyone will want to give him herbs, and I can tell you that ain't happening.
I'll keep looking, though; the fact that my mom is agreeing with it is a sign of just how bad it's gotten for my dad. And, really, it would be nice if something helped.
The other thing I got, from my acupuncturist, is a list of foods that supposedly help with "yin deficiency." I was laughing with my mom today, because a number of things on the list are not things that my dad is going to be eating (he loathes asparagus, for example, and I don't expect my dad to be eating mung bean sprouts any time either). But other stuff, yeah, so I'll send the list to my mom, along with some dead sea salts (for bathing) and some cream with calendula in it. Cross your fingers that something works.
Disorderly Profit
Little by little . . .
I keep hacking away, and I'm down to one box, and a couple of Areas of Concern; but I did a bunch of stuff yesterday and even already this morning. I already did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathrooms this morning, so I don't feel a huge need to do a lot of other stuff today. I have a small editing job, and, if I get ambitious, maybe I'll knock out some of that and get it out of the way before the hockey game tonight. (No I don't have a ticket, but I sure wish I did--the cheapest resale tickets I've seen are about $150 a ticket, in the highest level of the stadium, and I don't want to see it in person THAT badly.)
I've been hearing this commercial lately for something labeled "shift work disorder," and I've decided it's the apotheosis of capitalism. People who work variable shifts, especially if some of them are night shifts, often have trouble sleeping or staying awake, and shift work can seriously fuck with your circadian rhythms, apparently. No surprise there. And some organizations (including the military, I believe) have done some research on this; I have vague memories of reading about police departments that structured their shift changes to minimize the havoc on people's systems, which makes sense.
But, when push comes to shove, on some level, it shouldn't be a surprise if shift work trashes people's circadian rhythms. "Shift work" is something you can really only do when you have the ability to see at night--so it's only a couple hundred years, at the most, that people could do it at all, and, therefore, something to which we would not be particularly adapted. The real push for it comes from a desire to not shut down large machinery; you can make more stuff if you keep the machines going. In other words, the "disorder" comes not from some illness or disability inherent in the system, but, rather, from the conditions of Modern Capitalist Life. Likewise, the "cure" for this disorder isn't something like "stop expecting people to constantly change their sleep-work schedules," or even "structure shift work in ways that minimize the effects on circadian rhythms." Oh, no--the "cure" is . . . a drug! In other words, a profit-making item, another product of the very system that causes shift-work disorder.
Really, it couldn't be more perfect: capitalism causes the disorder and then creates a substance that can be sold to treat it.
I'm half-tempted to go look at furniture today; there's a resale shop a few blocks away where I might find something. I've been contemplating having a Morris chair made for me; I found a guy online that does it, and it is Very Not Cheap, but I could have it made to my specifications--the size that would fit best in the sunroom, for example, and the type of arms I want, and so on. K found a somewhat-more-local place, as well, but they're not THAT much cheaper, for one thing, and, for another, it's not clear how much I could specify. But, really Not Cheap, no matter how I go with this.
I may decide to do it, but I think I need to contemplate it for awhile, see how the budget fares in the next few months, things like that. I do not want to make the classic move of buying a place and then emptying the bank account to buy furniture and decorations and such. In the meanwhile, however, I need more places to sit. I have these old wicker chairs of Chuck's in the sunroom, and they are really uncomfortable, which makes sitting there less enjoyable as well. I need a small table in the entryway, for keys and mail and the like. I need more seating in the living room--all I have there is the couch. I need a table next to the couch.
I am perfectly happy to buy decent used stuff for most of those needs, I just have to haul my ass around to find the stuff.
I keep hacking away, and I'm down to one box, and a couple of Areas of Concern; but I did a bunch of stuff yesterday and even already this morning. I already did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathrooms this morning, so I don't feel a huge need to do a lot of other stuff today. I have a small editing job, and, if I get ambitious, maybe I'll knock out some of that and get it out of the way before the hockey game tonight. (No I don't have a ticket, but I sure wish I did--the cheapest resale tickets I've seen are about $150 a ticket, in the highest level of the stadium, and I don't want to see it in person THAT badly.)
I've been hearing this commercial lately for something labeled "shift work disorder," and I've decided it's the apotheosis of capitalism. People who work variable shifts, especially if some of them are night shifts, often have trouble sleeping or staying awake, and shift work can seriously fuck with your circadian rhythms, apparently. No surprise there. And some organizations (including the military, I believe) have done some research on this; I have vague memories of reading about police departments that structured their shift changes to minimize the havoc on people's systems, which makes sense.
But, when push comes to shove, on some level, it shouldn't be a surprise if shift work trashes people's circadian rhythms. "Shift work" is something you can really only do when you have the ability to see at night--so it's only a couple hundred years, at the most, that people could do it at all, and, therefore, something to which we would not be particularly adapted. The real push for it comes from a desire to not shut down large machinery; you can make more stuff if you keep the machines going. In other words, the "disorder" comes not from some illness or disability inherent in the system, but, rather, from the conditions of Modern Capitalist Life. Likewise, the "cure" for this disorder isn't something like "stop expecting people to constantly change their sleep-work schedules," or even "structure shift work in ways that minimize the effects on circadian rhythms." Oh, no--the "cure" is . . . a drug! In other words, a profit-making item, another product of the very system that causes shift-work disorder.
Really, it couldn't be more perfect: capitalism causes the disorder and then creates a substance that can be sold to treat it.
I'm half-tempted to go look at furniture today; there's a resale shop a few blocks away where I might find something. I've been contemplating having a Morris chair made for me; I found a guy online that does it, and it is Very Not Cheap, but I could have it made to my specifications--the size that would fit best in the sunroom, for example, and the type of arms I want, and so on. K found a somewhat-more-local place, as well, but they're not THAT much cheaper, for one thing, and, for another, it's not clear how much I could specify. But, really Not Cheap, no matter how I go with this.
I may decide to do it, but I think I need to contemplate it for awhile, see how the budget fares in the next few months, things like that. I do not want to make the classic move of buying a place and then emptying the bank account to buy furniture and decorations and such. In the meanwhile, however, I need more places to sit. I have these old wicker chairs of Chuck's in the sunroom, and they are really uncomfortable, which makes sitting there less enjoyable as well. I need a small table in the entryway, for keys and mail and the like. I need more seating in the living room--all I have there is the couch. I need a table next to the couch.
I am perfectly happy to buy decent used stuff for most of those needs, I just have to haul my ass around to find the stuff.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Cheese and Crackers
and strawberries; that was tonight's dinner. Tasty, too--and I"m glad I found the strawberries in the fridge before they turned into a science project. I'd completely forgotten that I bought them.
Let's see; where are we?
Well, to his considerable credit, Chuck came back to me (via email) this week in an effort to keep trying to find a way for me to see CK. Which I appreciate tremendously; it isn't any easier for him than it is for me. The reality is, he has never had to allow this or make room for it, and the fact that he continues to do so is a huge credit to him.
At work, the budget stuff continues. I had put together a worst-case budget, which put us at a deficit; my boss's boss cannot take a deficit budget to the board. But a little tweak here, a little ootch there, a slightly more optimistic forecast someplace else, and I'm hoping that will do it. I have tomorrow to make it happen, so it'll be another long-ass day. On the other hand, I managed to work out again tonight, so at least I"m getting a little of that in the mix, too.
Meanwhile, though, the hockey game is about to start, plus I need to get a drawing done for the tile class; I need to have something to work on tomorrow.
Let's see; where are we?
Well, to his considerable credit, Chuck came back to me (via email) this week in an effort to keep trying to find a way for me to see CK. Which I appreciate tremendously; it isn't any easier for him than it is for me. The reality is, he has never had to allow this or make room for it, and the fact that he continues to do so is a huge credit to him.
At work, the budget stuff continues. I had put together a worst-case budget, which put us at a deficit; my boss's boss cannot take a deficit budget to the board. But a little tweak here, a little ootch there, a slightly more optimistic forecast someplace else, and I'm hoping that will do it. I have tomorrow to make it happen, so it'll be another long-ass day. On the other hand, I managed to work out again tonight, so at least I"m getting a little of that in the mix, too.
Meanwhile, though, the hockey game is about to start, plus I need to get a drawing done for the tile class; I need to have something to work on tomorrow.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Outta the Way
Although I have eaten in the new space (albeit mostly things like bagels with peanut butter and cups of tea), and even cooked one meal, tonight was the first time I cooked a meal and ate it at the dining room table. So yes, I do continue to make incremental progress, as noted this morning. This weekend I need to clean, and finish the sorting process, and probably do some laundry as well. And some cooking; part of the reason for the massive shopping expedition was to make some food, but I'll have to go back through my cookbooks to remember which recipes I'd picked to make. It'll be good, though, and now that the freezer is plugged in and working, I can fill it up with portions of lunches and make my way back to healthier eating.
The big dilemma at work lately is that I'm kind of being forced to disparage someone else's work, which I really really really prefer not to do. But I've reached a point where I can either get the work done or spend a bunch of time explaining stuff to someone with the work remaining undone (and it's stuff this person should already know), and the work really must get done. It's so frustrating, because I like this person personally, and also because I really do not like being in the position of having to point a finger. My first priority is to get the job done, in a way that works for our programs; if someone cannot help with that process, then just get out of the way and don't waste my time.
It's difficult, though, because I also know this person's job is in jeopardy, precisely because this person's boss expects this person to provide more assistance to our program. I feel like I'm caught between covering up for this person--which puts a lot more pressure on me--or basically being relatively realistic about this person's lack of assistance. I hate it. There isn't any solution here that is going to make me feel good, but, at some point, I have a choice between saying that this person provides the assistance we need--which is not true at all--or not, even as I know that saying "not" puts the person's job in jeopardy.
If it didn't cause extra work for me, I probably wouldn't say much one way or the other, but the reality is that the lack of assistance puts an additional burden on all of us. Especially me, but I'm not the only one. So, in short, I'll keep my mouth shut to the upper levels, as long as it doesn't burden me or others in the program, and I won't go out of my way to complain in any case, except behind closed doors with, say, my boss, when I'm just letting off steam, but it's reaching the point where I can't cover it up any longer without making myself look incompetent--or, at least, more incompetent than I can make myself look.
I find that I work best in an environment where, and, as much as I can, I try to foster an environment where it is expected that mistakes will occur, and that people try to put systems or procedures in place to catch those mistakes at early stages of any given process, where the effects are less likely to be dire. Catch my mistakes in the budget now, before anything's finalized, rather than eight months from now when a whole bunch of other assumptions have been hung on that budget. Analyze my formulae now, find the weak spots; let's figure out which numbers we need to monitor most closely to make sure we don't get into trouble. Taste the dough now, while it's still in the mixer and the salt I forgot can be added.
Anyway. Time to go to bed, so I can put in twelve hours tomorrow if necessary. It's taken me way too long to write this, because I had to delete so much detail, but also because I've been watching hockey as I go. Go Hawks!
The big dilemma at work lately is that I'm kind of being forced to disparage someone else's work, which I really really really prefer not to do. But I've reached a point where I can either get the work done or spend a bunch of time explaining stuff to someone with the work remaining undone (and it's stuff this person should already know), and the work really must get done. It's so frustrating, because I like this person personally, and also because I really do not like being in the position of having to point a finger. My first priority is to get the job done, in a way that works for our programs; if someone cannot help with that process, then just get out of the way and don't waste my time.
It's difficult, though, because I also know this person's job is in jeopardy, precisely because this person's boss expects this person to provide more assistance to our program. I feel like I'm caught between covering up for this person--which puts a lot more pressure on me--or basically being relatively realistic about this person's lack of assistance. I hate it. There isn't any solution here that is going to make me feel good, but, at some point, I have a choice between saying that this person provides the assistance we need--which is not true at all--or not, even as I know that saying "not" puts the person's job in jeopardy.
If it didn't cause extra work for me, I probably wouldn't say much one way or the other, but the reality is that the lack of assistance puts an additional burden on all of us. Especially me, but I'm not the only one. So, in short, I'll keep my mouth shut to the upper levels, as long as it doesn't burden me or others in the program, and I won't go out of my way to complain in any case, except behind closed doors with, say, my boss, when I'm just letting off steam, but it's reaching the point where I can't cover it up any longer without making myself look incompetent--or, at least, more incompetent than I can make myself look.
I find that I work best in an environment where, and, as much as I can, I try to foster an environment where it is expected that mistakes will occur, and that people try to put systems or procedures in place to catch those mistakes at early stages of any given process, where the effects are less likely to be dire. Catch my mistakes in the budget now, before anything's finalized, rather than eight months from now when a whole bunch of other assumptions have been hung on that budget. Analyze my formulae now, find the weak spots; let's figure out which numbers we need to monitor most closely to make sure we don't get into trouble. Taste the dough now, while it's still in the mixer and the salt I forgot can be added.
Anyway. Time to go to bed, so I can put in twelve hours tomorrow if necessary. It's taken me way too long to write this, because I had to delete so much detail, but also because I've been watching hockey as I go. Go Hawks!
Piles of Crap
Budget Heck took up the vast majority of my energy last week, and an acrimonious exchange with Chuck added that special something. There's nothing to restrain him now, and, of course, I actually want something from him (a relationship with his son) but don't have anything he wants in return, so he often doesn't hesitate to spew.
Not that he held back all the time when we were together, mind you. One of the things I liked least about that was that I found myself torn between engaging in the stupid back-and-forth, and trying to defuse or disengage from it, to try to work toward something positive--it was a lot of work (in which he participated, too), and, not being anywhere near perfect, I engaged in the back-and-forth way, way more often than I wanted. I really fucking hated it; it brought out the worst in me, and the worst in him, and any pattern that does that isn't a good one. I had a hope, a fantasy, I suppose, that we would continue to be able to make space for each other, to work toward something positive in our own and each other's lives. And, really, we did do that, much of the time--or, at least, I thought we did--or I wouldn't have married him. Fool that I am, I even thought we might find a way to do that after he left me, and even after we divorced.
Which, sometimes I think we're doing, until the next wake-up call.
Ah, well. It's depressing as all hell, but I can't control Chuck's behavior. And, really, at this point, I don't have to deal with it much, either. I have continued to do so, in order to try to see CK at least once in awhile, in the hope that things would eventually improve. But Chuck continues to insist that I don't really care about CK (and then he lists a litany of reasons why), and then ends up with how he needs to Protect His Son. Basically, he's convincing himself that I don't care about CK, not really, so it's okay for Chuck to withdraw him. And no matter what I do, I guarantee you that, in Chuck's eyes, I'll eventually fuck up somehow. It's been made especially painful because, as I unpack, I stumble across pictures, or little drawings, or the "letter" that CK wrote when he was first learning his letters, and each of them is a little stab, another reminder.
Anyway.
As I continue to pick away at getting things organized (or, at least, as organized as my things will ever get) I'm finding (a) multiple skeins of embroidery thread (which is what I use for my needlepoint, so, when I finish a piece, the odd skeins are still around--and not put away, in a single place, oh no, not THAT), and (b) endless scraps of paper on which recipes are scribbled, printed, or printed and amended. Typically, they're not labeled, especially the scribbled bits, so I have to skim the ingredients and see if I can tell what the formula is for. I'm better at that than I might have predicted (I suppose I should be, given my experience), but still. I'm making piles of those things, toward the end of eventually putting them away. A third thing I'm gathering: the little knobby things that have fallen off my dining room chairs. And a fourth thing: blank paper of various sorts.
Yesterday K took me on a Massive Shopping Expedition. She met me at Whole Paycheck (I got there when it opened, and arranged for her to pick me up an hour later), and then we stopped at Target (paper shredder; hangers; cutting board for the tile-making class) and then the Container Store (a.k.a. the gayest store in the universe), where I got a bunch of stacking bins for clothes and for paper of various sorts.
Saturday I unpacked nearly all the books, and I did the rest of them yesterday, more or less. This morning, while I wait for the security people to show up and activate my alarm system, I went through more crap in the second bedroom, which has become the junk room. You know how, when you move, the last few boxes are all the little crap, all the things you don't have time to sort, or you don't quite know whether you want them but you don't feel like taking the time to think about it? Yeah, well, those are also the last things to put away at the other end, too, it turns out, and no surprise there.
But I'm getting there. I need furniture, and I have some ideas about that, but I don't want to empty the bank account getting it, so I'm trying to come up with some intermediate solutions until I sort it out. So, yes, a virtual housewarming and tour will be soon, now that my decorating theme is no longer only "still-packed boxes of crap, with other boxes opened and spilling out on the floor."
Not that he held back all the time when we were together, mind you. One of the things I liked least about that was that I found myself torn between engaging in the stupid back-and-forth, and trying to defuse or disengage from it, to try to work toward something positive--it was a lot of work (in which he participated, too), and, not being anywhere near perfect, I engaged in the back-and-forth way, way more often than I wanted. I really fucking hated it; it brought out the worst in me, and the worst in him, and any pattern that does that isn't a good one. I had a hope, a fantasy, I suppose, that we would continue to be able to make space for each other, to work toward something positive in our own and each other's lives. And, really, we did do that, much of the time--or, at least, I thought we did--or I wouldn't have married him. Fool that I am, I even thought we might find a way to do that after he left me, and even after we divorced.
Which, sometimes I think we're doing, until the next wake-up call.
Ah, well. It's depressing as all hell, but I can't control Chuck's behavior. And, really, at this point, I don't have to deal with it much, either. I have continued to do so, in order to try to see CK at least once in awhile, in the hope that things would eventually improve. But Chuck continues to insist that I don't really care about CK (and then he lists a litany of reasons why), and then ends up with how he needs to Protect His Son. Basically, he's convincing himself that I don't care about CK, not really, so it's okay for Chuck to withdraw him. And no matter what I do, I guarantee you that, in Chuck's eyes, I'll eventually fuck up somehow. It's been made especially painful because, as I unpack, I stumble across pictures, or little drawings, or the "letter" that CK wrote when he was first learning his letters, and each of them is a little stab, another reminder.
Anyway.
As I continue to pick away at getting things organized (or, at least, as organized as my things will ever get) I'm finding (a) multiple skeins of embroidery thread (which is what I use for my needlepoint, so, when I finish a piece, the odd skeins are still around--and not put away, in a single place, oh no, not THAT), and (b) endless scraps of paper on which recipes are scribbled, printed, or printed and amended. Typically, they're not labeled, especially the scribbled bits, so I have to skim the ingredients and see if I can tell what the formula is for. I'm better at that than I might have predicted (I suppose I should be, given my experience), but still. I'm making piles of those things, toward the end of eventually putting them away. A third thing I'm gathering: the little knobby things that have fallen off my dining room chairs. And a fourth thing: blank paper of various sorts.
Yesterday K took me on a Massive Shopping Expedition. She met me at Whole Paycheck (I got there when it opened, and arranged for her to pick me up an hour later), and then we stopped at Target (paper shredder; hangers; cutting board for the tile-making class) and then the Container Store (a.k.a. the gayest store in the universe), where I got a bunch of stacking bins for clothes and for paper of various sorts.
Saturday I unpacked nearly all the books, and I did the rest of them yesterday, more or less. This morning, while I wait for the security people to show up and activate my alarm system, I went through more crap in the second bedroom, which has become the junk room. You know how, when you move, the last few boxes are all the little crap, all the things you don't have time to sort, or you don't quite know whether you want them but you don't feel like taking the time to think about it? Yeah, well, those are also the last things to put away at the other end, too, it turns out, and no surprise there.
But I'm getting there. I need furniture, and I have some ideas about that, but I don't want to empty the bank account getting it, so I'm trying to come up with some intermediate solutions until I sort it out. So, yes, a virtual housewarming and tour will be soon, now that my decorating theme is no longer only "still-packed boxes of crap, with other boxes opened and spilling out on the floor."
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