Helloooo 2012!

So, how was everyone's December? Sorry I disappeared there, right after Thanksgiving. I got all involved in gift-shopping and wrapping stuff.  Then my colleague retired and we had a party for her. Then there was more gift-shopping, gift-wrapping, gift-sending (to Virginia and California), cookie-baking, and bam! It was Christmas.

That's "bam!" literally, by the way. I woke up Christmas morning in the dark with a leg cramp. Just walking to the kitchen to get ice to put on it made it go away. That should have been the warning that things were not going to go my way that day. Did I heed said warning? No, I did not. Later on that day, while sitting in my sister's basement rec room and still in my jammies, I took a mouthful of coffee and choked on it--sort of. I tried to swallow at exactly the same moment my body decided to cough. Turned myself into a coffee fountain.  It made a mess of my clothes, so I went upstairs to change and throw things into the washer, which is kept out in the garage.

The floor of the garage is lower than the floor of the rest of the house.  It's too steep for a regular step, so to mitigate this some previous owner (or maybe the builder) put in a little step between the door sill and the garage floor. I've been in this house a number of times before and never had trouble remembering it was there. This time I missed it completely and went "bam!" right down. Actually, I'm not sure if I missed it, slipped, or only caught half of the step. It all happened very fast. I was talking over my shoulder to my Mom, with one hand on the door, when down I went.  Pulled the door shut behind me with extreme violence, slammed into the metal cabinet that was to the right of me, screamed out, "Son of a b!tch!" (but apparently no one heard that over all the other noise) and then just sat there on the floor, stunned.

Mom came to see why I'd slammed the door so hard and found me sitting on the step I'd missed, rubbing my right ankle. I asked for ice, which she went and got while I sat there listening to the memory of my voice screaming "Son of a b!tch!" It started me giggling (every time I remember it, I giggle again. I did just now, writing that). This turned into full-blown hysterical laughter, complete with tears. I'm glad my default reaction is to laugh in situations like this. My mom came back with the ice, and we both sat there: me laughing and icing my ankle, she rubbing my back and (probably) wondering if I needed an X-ray. It was mentioned a few times, but I decided against it. My sister loaned me an Ace bandage (which I'm still wearing), and I spent the rest of the day either hobbling around or sitting somewhere with my foot in the air. The next day we went to New Jersey to have lunch with my Dad's brother and his family, then on the 27th we all went home.

Here's what the ankle looked like two days later:


Pretty, no? I think Crayola should make a crayon color called "Ouch, My Ankle!" (not pictured: other side of ankle, which looked pretty much the same as this)

Since then I've been (for the most part) hanging out on the couch with my foot in the air, either watching TV or listening to audiobooks while I embroider. Right now (well, not right now, obviously) I'm listening to Middlemarch, as read by Juliet Stevenson.  She's excellent. I did make a couple of excursions outdoors, mainly to get necessities (milk, coffee filters, lunch meat), or, once the ankle felt strong enough to use, to take myself to lunch on New Year's Eve.  I thought I'd better go out then, because the bus wouldn't be running on either the 1st or the 2nd of January and I really should see a person or two before holing up for a few days.  I was going to go out today as well, but they're calling for snow, with a wind chill of 0 or even -5, so I'm staying right here, thank-you-very-much. I might go to the mall tomorrow, mainly because I can (I'm off until next Monday) but also partly to buy calendars from the calendar-and-game kiosk that pops up every November and disappears by mid-January. I need two wall calendars. I never think to ask for them as Christmas presents.

So how was your December? And your New Year's Eve? Did anyone make any resolutions? I can't without breaking one a I made a long time ago never to make another new year's resolution. I have some things I'd like to do this year, but I'm not serious enough about them to be "resolved" to do them. I'd like to post more often than I have been. And I'd like this year to be "Handmade Christmas," since I kind of fizzled out last year around February. I ran out of ideas. I think I have a better handle on it now. We'll see.

Loose change

Also known as random thoughts.

Going to be a brief post 'cause I'm typing this one-handed. The cat's sleeping on my right arm, snuggled into the crook of it and snoring in my ear. I'm afraid that freeing up my right hand to type will disturb her. I am so cat-owned.

Went grocery shopping today. Wegman's has a special right now--turkeys for $0.29 per pound, provided you have a club card (I d0) and spend at least $25 on other stuff. Not a problem. I scored a 12 lb bird for about $3 and change. Dang, I'm good. Bird is in freezer, along with 2 bags of cranberries and the other smaller (but not exactly small) turkey breast I bought last summer.

I found a picture of the fennel/potato thing I wrote about a couple days ago. Forgot I took one. Sure was tasty. Also found a photo of the gnocchi stuff. And another from one of my attempts at the carrot soup. Anyone watching me this summer must've thought I was nuts, the way I would set out all my vegetables on the patio and photograph them, then cook 'em up, drag them back out to the patio and photograph 'em again. I can hear the conversation now:

"Abner*! That freak in 916-10 is taking pictures of her food again!"
"Come away from the window, Gladys*. She might see you and ask you to photograph her eating it."
"You know, she never does eat out there. I wonder why."
"Maybe she's worried about being watched by the neighbors."

I'm making even less sense than usual this evening. Time to call it a night. If I can get the cat off my arm, that is. Maybe I'm sleeping here tonight.


*Not their real names. At least I don't think so. I'm not acquainted with any of the neighbors who'd be able to see my patio from their windows. Anyone else a fan of "Bewitched?" I loved the Kravitzes.

Public embarassment, bad dreams, and stupid ideas

or, "What the past few days have been like."

Occasionally I have an anxiety dream. It usually involves having to take a final in a class I didn't know I was enrolled in and now cannot drop. Don't know the subject, or the teacher, or even the building the test is in. I spend most of the dream running around campus trying to find this exam. If I find the room before I wake up, it's usually as some faceless voice is saying, "Pencils down." Test's over, I missed it. Then I wake up, and have to calm myself down by remembering I'm not in school any more.

Last night the dream had a new wrinkle. My report card came in the mail (I don't know whether I was a high school student or a college one). I got all A's except for one B+. My mother was ranting and raving about the B+, wanting to know how I could let this happen, this could ruin my future, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Here's the kicker--my mother? Was my old supervisor from a year and a half ago.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!

I told my fellow refugee from Hell this story and she said, "You are really letting that holiday party invitation get to you, aren't you?"

We'd just been invited the day before to the annual holiday "celebration" at the old office, and neither of us wanted to go. We're going, though, partly because there are some people there we'd like to see, and partly to keep good diplomatic relations between them and our people.

Then last night I had another doozy. All I remember from it is a bit about having to go to a morgue to ID my sister's body. And then I woke up sobbing. I had to talk myself out of calling her at three a.m. today to see if she was all right.

What the [bleep] is up, brain? Halloween was months ago, why are you scaring me now?

Then there's the fun bit on the bus this morning. It was raining quite heavily when I left the house. Everyone on the bus and all their belongings were dripping wet. I was talking to a friend and (now) neighbor as I went to get off at my stop (ahead of her, thank goodness) took one step and went jeet, BOOM! down the steps. Three of 'em. Hit my tushie on each one as I passed. I got to the bottom and, clinging to both hand railings, announced unnecessarily over my shoulder to the rest of the bus:

"The steps are slick!"

I drew the attention of people from 50 yards away, it was that impressive a fall. Bus driver asked me twice if I was okay, and then pulled up along side me as I was about to enter my building and asked if I was sure I was all right. I said, "Well, my bottom hurts, but I did just smack it three times. I'm fine."

And I am, for the most part. I'm going to have a beaut of a bruise when it finally shows. Right now it hurts a little if I shift in a particular direction, so I try not to do that.

When I got to work (after relating my story to my team, laughing so hard at myself that I was starting to tear up. I bet it looked hilarious!), I found Santa had stopped by. One teammate had given me shortbread, another gave me a bag of Jordan almonds and a big bottle of bubble bath/shower gel/shampoo. It's from a company called Philosophy, where my sister gets her perfume. Scent is Snickerdoodle. Food. Dessert, even. But I took a good whiff of it, and all I smelled was cinnamon. Not bad. It's a scent I think I can live with.

So tonight, after I got home and got myself some dinner, I decided to go soak my achy bottom in a bubble bath. I don't do baths very often. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I've taken a bath since my mother announced I was old enough to start using the shower. I don't think I'll be doing it again soon.

Try this: Take a small stock pot, fill it almost to the top with hot, soapy water. Then, from a height of about three feet, drop in a bowling ball. The resulting mess will give you some indication of what the bathroom floor looked like when I sat down in my too-full tub. And I wasn't in there very long before I noticed some of me was getting cold, and the water was getting lukewarm. So I emptied some out, refilled, and proceeded to slosh around, getting even more water on the floor in the process. Turns out I couldn't really soak my achy bum because it hurt when I leaned back. Or moved forward. Or stood up.

Sigh.

So now here I am in my jammies, lying prone in front of the laptop on the floor of the upstairs hall (I'd brought it upstairs to play some nice soothing classical music while I soaked. Really, really glad I didn't put it anywhere in the bathroom, but instead left it outside on the carpeted floor, well away from Lake Snickerdoodle), smelling of cookie dough, with an achy behind, and afraid to go to sleep for fear that my brain's gonna toss me another hand grenade tonight.

So. How are you?

P.S. Ditter's fine by the way. She says dreaming about a death usually means there's a birth round the corner. She's been trying to make me Auntie Vee for a little while now, so, fingers crossed.