Nuggets

Boy howdy, I've been in a horrible mood today.  I'm all achy and cranky.  Crachy, really.  I think I need something to distract me from the unmoving wait for a referral, and the sense I have that my life is on hold until we know who our baby is.  You would think that fundraising, writing (a little), and doing my Rosetta Stone Vietnamese lessons (also a little -- I need to work harder on that...but my brain hurts after work on weeknights, wah, which leaves the weekend, and there's only so much language I can cram into 48 hours) would be enough, but apparently not. 

I don't have it in me to train for the marathon this year, but I need something that will engage me in the same sort of physical and mental way but that I can fit into my schedule relatively easily.  Maybe I should take up tae kwon do?  I've thought about going back to dance class on the weekends, but I fear the humiliation of having let my turnout and extension and general dance ability atrophy to the point of nonexistance.  Any suggestions?

Separately, I was paging through my little idea notebook tonight on the way home -- I have to have a notebook and pen on me at all times, just in case the secrets of the universe are revealed to me while I'm on the subway or buying a bagel -- and I had to chuckle at some of the items I've jotted down to remind myself of stories that need to be told. 

For example, the first item on the list is "bordello apt."  As in, bordello apartment.  After law school, I moved with my ex into an apartment in the Gramercy area.  At some point, we got a package in the mail that was addressed to our apartment, but with no recipient specified.  We opened it up and found some, ah, indelicate photographs of a woman posing in ways that highlighted her, ah, rear view. 

Some time later, I moved into another apartment in the same building.  I had some people over one night, and one of the guests mentioned that she used to work in the building.  I thought this was odd, since it was a residential building. She said that she worked on the second floor as the receptionist for...a bordello.  She had answered an ad for a receptionist position at an importer/exporter business or some such thing -- and when she showed up to work, they told her she was to answer the phone, schedule appointments, and let people into the apartment for "meetings."  She quickly realized, however, that they weren't importing or exporting anything, and she beat a trail out of there.  And yep, that was in MY OLD APARTMENT.  Apparently the nudie pictures were of an applicant for a new, er, opening.

Here's another item:  "Miss W. -- shoplifting."  That refers to my junior year English teacher.  After I graduated high school, she was caught shoplifting at the local JC Penney. 

Another:  "Old men alone (IA, Mr. L) + dog comm."  I have NO idea what IA refers to (Iowa?  But why?  I CAN'T REMEMBER) or what "dog comm" means (dog communication?  WHAT?), but the old men alone thing is pretty self-explanatory.  Seeing old men alone -- especially eating alone -- makes me SO sad.  It gets me every time. 

One of the saddest things in the WORLD was this time in high school when my friend G's dad came to have lunch with her at school.  Her dad, Mr. L, was an older gentleman; he walked with a cane and didn't see all that well.  But he adored her to the ends of the earth, and he was one of the nicest people you'd ever meet.  That day, G got her lunch and went and sat down, but her dad somehow didn't see where she went, and when he came out of the lunch line, he stood in the middle of the cafeteria, holding his tray with one hand and leaning on his cane with the other, and he peered around, looking forlornly for his daughter, while packs of rowdy teenagers swarmed around him.  Something about it was so vulnerable and so tragic that it makes me tear up just thinking about it.  OH MY GOD, it was sad.

One last one for now:  "ketchup problem."  Ah, another lunchroom story.  This was in 8th grade, when I went to an all-girls' junior high (yes, public -- it was a product of desegregation and a relic of racism and it, thankfully, no longer exists).  We were sitting at lunch one day and this rather dim girl from my homeroom decided that it would be hilarious to take ketchup packets and stomp on them under the table.  She, of course, ended up spraying ketchup all over the wall and floor, and after lunch she and I and one of my friends were summoned to the principal's office. 

The principal, a rather ineffectual woman whose disciplinary methods often consisted of making menacing announcements over the intercom system, sat back in her imposing armchair and looked down at us as if she were deliberating something weighty.  We stared at the floor and traced circles with our shoes as the silence thickened.  Finally, the principal said, "Girls.  We have a ketchup problem....we have a ketchup problem."  I had to pinch the side of my leg with all my strength not to burst into crazed laughter.  I think, in the end, we had to clean off the wall (the principal thought that my friend and I had "encouraged" the packet-stomping, even thought we HAD NOT) and maybe she made us apologize to the lunch ladies or some stupid thing.  Man, am I glad I'm not in school anymore. 

Comments

[fats]

"ketchum problem" cracked me up!!

How are those Rosetta Stone tapes? I always see the kiosk at the airport (and of course, ads in the SkyMail magazine, which I devour as soon as I sit down - after checking what movies are on the flight, of course - because god forbid my shopping addiction should be put on hold during a 4 hour flight!) and wonder if they're any good.

[Loth]

Wahey, you used to live in a bordello! My mum once claimed in front of a houseful of guests that she and my dad spent their entire Spanish summer holiday in a bordello. My mother apparently can't tell the difference between "bordello" and "bodega". The punchline was when she declared proudly that she and dad went back every day because it was so cheap.

[-R-]

Maybe lonely old men are good at communicating with dogs, and you wanted to discuss this?

My high school principal was arrested after I graduated, but I will not tell you what the crime was, except to say that maybe he and Senator Craig could hang out.

I seriously can't believe that you need MORE activities! Geez, woman! Tae kwan doe might be good actually. Or I can imagine you liking pilates.

[Lawyerish]

Fats -- The Rosetta Stone thing is great, although I think I'd be more able to assess its quality with a language I had more of a hope of speaking intelligibly. It's a little frustrating at first, because there is NO English in it, so you don't know what exactly you're saying; but I have actually learned a lot. I think between this and a good phrasebook I may have some hope of saying a sentence or two when we travel.

Loth -- BAHAHA! That is awesome.

R -- Yeah, I've taken Pilates in the past, and it's great for toning and all, so I sort of do it at home sometimes. Maybe I should find a class nearby for once a week or something.

Separately, I can't get into yoga. I don't find it that relaxing or stimulating because it seems too slow and I am always afraid of doing stuff all wrong, and plus yoga classes here are filled with Yoga People, who are all serious about it and stuff. Ugh.

I am DYING over your H.S. principal. Where do these people come from?

[Heather]

This is in regard to the post below, thanks for this great idea. I haven't gone to the Orphan Care website yet to donate, but that is going to be Sarah's Forever Family Day gift. If you've seen pics of her orphanage, you'll notice is is lacking in the playground department. Hope your referral comes soon.

Heather

[Heather B.]

The very sad part about your last story is that I actually thought it was a good idea (Hello, I'm the dim girl) to stomp on a ketchup packet last night. And so we did it over and over again. Because I'm in junior high. At least it was in a parking lot and no one was around. But still, I'm sure the dim girl got more mature as she aged and I apparently do not.