Chefs Anonymous

So now, after having written a veritably depressing entry, I feel compelled to write something funny or uplifting. So here goes. I am grateful that I am currently gainfully employed, for this weekend my best friend is going to be hosting a Pampered Chef party. Normally, this would not be a cause for particular celebration, but for me it is as though Christmas has come early! My kitchen is a collection of gadgets and paraphernalia that Wolfgang Puck himself would envy. I have stoneware in several shapes and sizes; a little chopper thingamawhoozi that can chop veggies and nuts, and even has a little tray to hold them in. Not to mention the fancy platter thing that is reversible: one side is set up for a veggie platter, and the other for devilled egge. What makes this tray so nifty is the fact the central piece that lays along the bottom can go in the freezer, so that you may keep your eggs cold! Now ask me how frequently I make devilled eggs.... I think my next mission will be to acquire the entire stoneware set that Pampered Chef produces. I am almost tempted to become a consultant because for a nominal fee I can have just about everything they sell... then it occurred to me that I have already purchased most of those things. I am sure some sort of intervention or support group is in order. I do believe next I will move on to the knives!!!! They cut bone, you know.....

The Shizz Nazz

It would appear that my last entry was an ill omen. The adorable, often haphazard cat Ziggy met his untimely demise yesterday morning at the bumper of a speeding car. It is quite upsetting to be driving home from work, ready to go to sleep, only to find your cat in the road. Needless to say, I was (am) devastated. I find it interesting that we can become so completely attatched to, and dependent on our pets. The pain over losing an animal is (at least to me), often far more intense than losing a person. Granted, the ache is not as longlasting. After much crying (and two glasses of Scotch), I managed to get myself to go to sleep. Now I am at work, in the middle of the night, and not quite as hysterical as I was this morning. But it gives me a little pang to know that I will no longer be sharing my water with Zig, or that no feline will be waking me up in the middle of the night to come in through the bedroom window. The vet even asked me if I wanted to have him cremated and keep the ashes. It almost seems maudlin... the part of Ziggy that made him interesting has gone to some other where, and I see no reason to hang onto the shell that housed it. I think he has a much better place in my heart and memories than in an urn or in my backyard.

Friggin' Cats

My cat Ziggy is a wondrous little bundle of trouble. In personality, he closely resembles Bucky from the Get Fuzzy comic strip (although less violent). He cuddles up on my bed every night and keeps my toes warm, and purrs when no one is watching (I think he feels it is not macho to purr in the presence of others). He also has "cute" little quirks, like twanging the screen of my bedroom window at 4 AM when he is ready to come back inside. Or feeling compelled to drink out of my water glass, even if he has a fresh bowl of his own water. Anyhow, the poor thing is prone to urinary blockages, and I spent a fortune on him last month to keep him alive. I can only imagine how uncomfortable it is to not be able to pee. Anyhow, the same symptoms have arisen tonight, and now he is camped out at the vet's. Again. He has frequent flier miles there; he is only 6, and has had at least 9 rabies shots I can remember off the top of my head for getting into fights with unknown animals. I am hoping they will erect a plaque to my cat, as chief benefactor in the construction of the new wing at the vet's office. He can be a pain in the arse sometimes, but he's an adorable little fuzzball, and I think I would like to keep him around for a bit.

Words

Words are tricky little buggers. They can accommodate you to express fantastic ideas and feelings. But using them without care can cause harm, more often than not unintentionally. Tonight someone made an offhanded comment about a hardship she has had to endure. I have never had the misfortune to go through this particular travesty, and cannot even begin to comprehend what she has experienced. I know that her comment was not made in malice, and most likely she had no idea what she was saying (at least, I would sort of like to think so). At any rate, I took great offense to this offhanded remark, and decided to remove myself from the social situation entirely. For some reason, those words seemed to sum up several things for me, and I am certain she did not intend for me to take them as I did, but so be it: In a few words, she managed to (inadvertently) make me feel as though any suffering I have survived in my life cannot possibly compare to hers, and any loss I feel (or have felt) is inadequate. She has someone to take every step of that path with her; meanwhile, those of us who are hoofing it alone are left to feel that we have not measured up in some way; and by "we" I mean "me." Do we ever truly take into account the affect of the words we say to others? Words are tricky little buggers....

Football is Life

This evening, the Patriots suffered a devastating loss to the Giants in the Super Bowl. In the grand scheme of life, this is a ridiculously trivial matter. However, for me, it is cause to wear a mantel of mourning. As a die-hard football fan (Patriots, of course), I watch the game for several reasons. First, its just plain fun. Second, I like having something in my life that has absolutely nothing to do with music; it is my outlet, if you will. Third, its nice to give myself over to something where I must completely relinquish my need for control. After all, I am not Bill Bellichick, and I cannot direct or foresee the outcome of any game. But after tonight, I can honestly say that I have not felt this ill in ages. Its quite depressing to get your hopes pinned on a completely undefeated season, only to be let down in the last 35 seconds or so. But alas, it is done. Now, I feel I should be more devoted to the Red Sox in my 6 months of pining for the commencement of the next football season. After all, today just ends this season. Tomorrow opens the door for the next.

People are Strange

One of my favorite Doors songs; but entirely beside the point. In keeping with my New Year's theme, I am going to write about something new. Or rather, someone new. As I said, I have met some new and interesting people in the past year. Some that were truly interesting, and some who are interesting purely because they are disturbing or bizarre. In the past few months, I have met someone who falls into the former category. I find him interesting for several reasons. First, as a cynical and sarcastic person, I am usually on my guard when meeting new people. However, from my first meeting with him, I was (for once) completely at ease. I thoroughly enjoy the fact that I have met another human being around whom I do not feel I need to act or portray a certain persona. Second, he does not make my Psycho Radar run amok. As a general rule, people with deeply seeded issues or neuroses seem to flock to me. Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but at work, through students, etc. The nutters come to me as if I were their appointed Messiah of Lunacy. Third, the man can not only intelligently discuss the White Album, but understands the places of the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Sabbath and Led Zepplin in the evolution of rock. I have no idea where this will lead, but its nice to know that there are people out there who can renew my faith in humanity, remind me that I don't always have to be an assuming bitch, and bring to life a part of me I felt had been dormant for far too long.

Happy New Year!

Well, it is quite obvious that I have been rather remiss in writing in my blog as of late. However, this is one of my several New Year's resolutions: To frequently update the Saga of Lola. I figure that if I make more than one resolution, I am bound to keep at least one of them. Another year has come and gone... its almost impossible to fathom! So much has happened in the last 365 days! I have finished my master's, uprooted myself back to MA, been through some tough times with friends, rekindled old friendships, and met some new and wonderful people. It is amazing to see how one's perception of time changes as we get older. When I was younger, a year seemed an eternity. Waiting for the arrival of Christmas was a never-ending period of anticipation. Now I await Christmas with the trepidation of trying to make sure I have bought everything, baked all I need to, and still had time to try and enjoy the season as a whole. I used to remember every ringing in of the New Year; now I am lucky if I can remember the next morning! However, all things considered, it has been a wonderful year. I can only hope that the new one proves as exciting and unexpected.

Oh my.....

So I joined an online dating service. Basically, it comes down to the fact that I am a busy woman, and I do not have time to be trolling bars to meet men. So, I have decided to be practical and hire an online company that can do it for me. And, to a certain extent, it weeds out the people who are truly NOT my type. I have met some wonderful and interesting people on this site... and I have also met some truly disturbing individuals. Within the first 24 hrs of having joined, I had one who told me I was "devastatingly beautiful" (which, of course, is a nice ego booster). However, in the same email, the individual also told me that he was auditioning for the part of boyfriend (his words, not mine), and if I was available for marriage, that was ok, too. Now... I like my men assertive... but this is a touch over the top. Another one wanted to know if I wore pantyhose or thigh highs. Now, maybe I am old fashioned, but I am convinced there is more to a person than their attire, and I told him as much. His response was to ask me out for a drink, and inquire what I would "wear for him." I think not. It is also becoming apparent that I should proofread my profile... You know, just to take out any mentions of the word "assertive" and to ensure that I don't have "I love psychos" secretly hidden in there somewhere.

Sport Eating

Today is Thanksgiving... which I believe is some sort of Native American derivative word for "eat until your GI tract cries." Usually, Turkey Day is an enormous event for my family. Its nice because some of my mother's family, and some of my father's family come. However, we were small in ranks this year; it was only 7 of us. Unfortunately, I don't know how to cook for 7 people, and I shall be eating turkey and pie until New Years'. However, this year Thanksgiving was different. It felt more like a Sunday dinner than a big, holiday, family event. It was less than 5 hrs from when everyone showed up to the time when I was by my onesies, finishing the last clean-up bits. I didn't get as much time to visit with people this year. But nonetheless, I am thankful. I am thankful that I have such a wonderful family, and that I am close enough to be able to spend time with them. We may not always turn out in numbers, but we love one another, and that is really the only thing that matters. Happy Thanksgiving!

Anonymous 4, Sequaelia

It seems to me that everywhere I turn, my friends are either married and/or preggers. Its not that I am in any particular rush to be in either one of those states, but it does seem that I am rapidly being pushed into the Single Minority. There are but few of us left. And, of course, there are always the aunts who consistently ask if I am dating anyone (although, thankfully none have called me a spinster in several years). I think we single women should band together. Thus far, I have decided that Meg, Kellie, Myrna and I are all members of a very elite quartet. Myrna came up with the lovely name of Anonymous 4 (certainly a music geek moment, but I like it). Since a group that sings renaissance music has already stolen that title, I have gone for Sequaelia. After all, our life as singles is as dying a breed as renaissance singers. Hmm.... maybe I should inform the other two women that I have thrust them into this quartet? Nah... let 'em be surprised.