December 28, 2004
I am two people.
On one hand, I am the loving mother, the caring wife, the true believer, the dutiful daughter, the empathetic sister, the dedicated worker, the woman content to be recognized and loved for who I am by those closest to me.
On the other hand, I am the ambitious woman, the cold wife, the truth seeker, the rebellious daughter, the antagonistic sister, the restless spirit, seeking recognition and fame by the world around me.
One of me is perfectly suited to the lifestyle I have chosen; satisfied, even. But the other? The other me bucks against my life, restlessly, uneasily, chomping and straining at the bit. Driving for freedom. Spurring me on. Trampling any who dare stand in my way. Pushing for… what?
An incessant voice whispers urgently, Hurry! Hurry! You might miss something! You’re going to miss something!
As time passes, as I watch my children grow, I see their endless possibilities stretching before them. It is then that I notice that one of me appears to be sinking slowly into obscurity, hidden in a darkness only I perceive. Drowning.
What happens if one of me disappears?
December 23, 2004
As the year swiftly and fleet-of-footly comes to a close, I am reminded of my many blessings. Please join with me as I count down my Top 10 Blessing of 2004:
10. I have a job where comments such as “I hate English!”, “Shakespeare is so gay!”, “Can I do extra credit?”, and “Will this be on the test?” are thankfully absent from the conversation.
9. Since my trip to the gastroenterologist, my constipation issues are all but resolved. (Heh. That pun? Totally intended! Get it?! “All but resolved”? Har.)
8. I have a job that allows me down-time to update my newly-minted blog-sites. Eh? Eh?!
7. There is water here. Lots of water. And trees! Green ones! Pretty!
6. I haven’t had to shop at, or even set foot in, a Super-Walmart yet. Because there are malls here. Big ones. Am I in heaven?
5. Um, did I mention the lack of constipation issues?
4. No one asks me every stinking day if Shakespeare was gay, and if so, why we have to learn about him and his works. Because he was gay. And wrote sonnets to men. And was totally gay.
3. I discovered that whistling on the Metro attracts attention. And any attention is good attention, right? Right?
2. I’ve come to realize how important my family is, and how much I miss them when I’m away from them.
1. My husband and kids are with me now, and we are happy together.
December 23, 2004
Say it ain’t so! A cloned-to-order pet? $50,000? Hello? Is anyone else frightened?
Ten bucks says the cute little kitty grows to ginormously large proportions (I’m talking hippo-sized, people!), begins hearing cat-voices telling him to “Kill! Kill!”, gets hopped up on catnip, goes full-on psycho, and takes out the rich old lady, Siegfried-and-Roy-style. Any takers?
December 22, 2004
I can’t believe he was “in the neighborhood” and I missed it… I may just die.
For this, I can almost forgive his Scientology zealotry.
December 22, 2004
In the cubicle directly across from me, a gaggle of women stand discussing assorted holiday cookie recipes. Ooooh, drizzled honey? Nuts on top? What are they saying? Rum? What?
I looooooove cookies… cookies, cookies, cookies! Mmmmm! ‘Tis the season, ya know what I’m sayin’? But the mother of all Christmas cookies would be my mother’s very own top-secret, scrumptiously-tasty, super-special Cuckoo Cookie. Oh yes. The Cuckoo Cookie. Oh yes.
It’s this wonderful little circley (not a word? no?) delight of a thing, with a fluffy chocolate cookie base, a slightly toasted marshmallow on top, and to-die-for chocolate glaze over the whole darn thing. Chocolate glaze! Over the whole darn thing! And sometimes nuts, but not always, ‘cuz somebody is allergic, or unnaturally averse to them, or some such nonsense. And did I mention the glaze? Because… yum.
Oh, I’m feeling all tingly inside just thinking about them.
Anyhoos, awesome cookie. But the name? Not so much. Come on, Cuckoo Cookies? What the hell? Are they so good, they make you go cuckoo? Are they the preferred cookie of the European Cuckoo bird family? Did they originate someplace called the Cuckoo Pen in some obscure English village of my ancestors? The possibilities are limitless. Honestly. It’s a conundrum. BUT, my sister, Jenny, has a theory. She believes it was simply an error in translation. She is logical that way, Jenny is. It’s amazing, really. Now Jenny, she theorizes that when my mother’s mother’s mother bucked the oral tradition and set this particular recipe into the written word, way back when, she accidentally wrote the word “cuckoo” instead of “cocoa.” Oooooooh, I get it! Because there’s a whole lot of cocoa in the cookie! Get it? See? Jenny is smart. And “cuckoo” does sound an awful lot like “cocoa,” especially with a British accent. Really. Try it. I’m not kidding.
Huh. So really, Jenny’s theory makes perfect sense. Heh. Great-grandma was all cuckoo for cocoa cookies! (Come on, like I could let THAT opportunity pass by. Please.)
Crap. The gaggle of women has dispersed. Now I’ll never know the drizzled-honey, nuts-on-top, filled-with-rum cookie recipe. What a shame. Guess I’ll stick with the Cuckoo Cookie.