the urge…. I think it’s gone

Well, dear lovies, I was about to write new lyrics to “The Thrill is Gone” — using “The Urge is Gone” — but then realized that I might start rhyming again and blow my plan to quell this urge for a while.  The limerick has left the building.  I will now go back to decorating 8 more seed pots that I made prior to surgery.  Since I have the only slightly soiled bill of health (clean one to come in a couple of weeks), I am allowed to do as I please, which for me means working with clay, and feeling that moist earthy substance in my hands again, and smelling the wondrous clay, letting it give my body a thrill.

 

That’s one of the seed pots. 

Hey…. my mouse cursor is creeping across the page.  What the…….?  Just found the other wireless mouse – the Apple one.  Not my favorite shape and all that, but it does have a life of its own even with only one battery!  It is now sitting (hahaha) in front of me, belly up.  The cursor has stopped the mystery movement. Will wonders never cease?

Going to start practicing the oboe again today.  I’ve left it for a while during the recovery from the hystiepystie surgery (pronounced hiss and piss).  I do have a gig on December 5.  Should be getting the music within the week to be sure I can handle it all.  Should be ok….. lots of rest time, since it’s a service at B’nai Israel, and my friend the chazzan has promised to be kind to my recovering body. We’ll see later today when I make the first attempt to honk out a note.  It’s been a few days!

Today I will also make the decision about what exercise I will begin with.  I have done yoga with Peggy Cappy (Yoga for the Rest of Us — the rest of us being old folks).  I have done a modified, less strenuous version for a couple of weeks, but am ready for a bit of a cardio workout.  At least an aerobic one.  Love the Jane Fonda tapes from years ago that helped me put a bit of tone into my then sadly abandoned body.  I think it may word again.  Then again, perhaps the one wheeled bike that goes nowhere would be a good thing…… I can play biking scenes from different countries and log my miles as I go!  I remember one friend used to have one in which the wheel doubled as a fan.  It was as though the wind was beneath your….. umm your wheel, blowing past you gently, then moreso as you got up a bit of speed.  

Investigations start later today, after I go back to bed for an hour or so.

Just took a minute to go look outside.  Forgot this is Friday, and my organic veggies and fruits from Farm Fresh to You were still on the front step.  I usually go out during the early morning hours and bring in the welcomed box, but when you go to bed in the early morning hours, it rather precludes any thought of waking oneself up to go out into the rain and fetch a box that will be there just as safely a few hours later. Today’s box contains not only more of those lovely cayenne peppers, but also fennel, kale, potatoes, apples, pears, spinach, rapini, radishes and a small pumpkin.  Oh what fun it is to ride……. oops, wrong holiday.

Speaking of holidays, I believe that this year the usual holiday family get-togethers will be quite different, since Sam and I have decided to be elsewhere starting NOW!!!  Every year we say that we’re not going to participate.  I, of course, have been away many times in my life during the Thanksgiving and other holiday periods, but this would be Sam’s first time.  Family gatherings are always so ridiculously fetid and objectionable that recovery from them takes considerably more time than they are worth.  Now other peoples’ families in combination with a few friends is another story!  We’ll see where that one takes us.

Now…. is it too late to go back to bed for a true lie-in?  Why not, I say?  This is the first day I have no commitments except to myself.  Yes, let me stop this drivel and once again raise my feet to the level of the bed, cover me bod with a snuggly comforter and snooze.  Must go turn sprinklers to the OFF position, since the rain is falling quite heavily right now.  No, I will not go outside and do that in the dark, silly.

Really was lovely to see Erin yesterday afternoon.  Hearing of her family’s activities, of her exploits, and being able to be me with a friend is a true boon.  Then Sam came for dinner……. a chicken breast saturated with garam masala as a dry rub, basmati rice, and his choice of available vegetables – spinach, snow peas, mushrooms and baby broccoli.  Actually I asked him which ones he would like, upon which he chose them all.  We had started with small slices of baguette and globs of my favorite cheese, St. Andre, and a little avocado smashed with lots of garlic, a tomato and salt and pepper which I ate with barbecue chips, and he with some old leftover corn chips.  Said he couldn’t abide the BBQ with the avocado.  

The meal ended with a lovely tart with cranberries and walnuts topped with a dollop of indulgence in the form of creme fraiche.  Dropped him back at his place around 11pm.  Nice evening.  Actually it was a good day all round.

Well you all know what was missing, but I’ll leave it at that for now.  I still have that silly smile on my face.

later…………………….

doc sends in probe…. finds only a hole

Well, puppies, I’ve had my 4.5 week follow-up to the hystericalectomyfication on September 29.  My gyn/ surgeon is such a sweetie.  He couldn’t stop smiling when I said there was no real pain, no trouble with my life.  When he asked how it was to have no bleeding, I just laughed and said, “I have somehow blanked all the misery, all the pain, all the uncertainty that was caused by that intermittent, horrid issue.”  As he looked at the scar I asked him if both he and the surgery resident took part in the suturing, since one half was completely different than the other.  He merely laughed and said that it might have been, but that even if he had done it all, it might be different on one from the other.  

He did the speculum check, nodded ok to the accompanying nurse, took out that wretched implement and sent in the lunar probe to check the vuh-jay-jay (Oprah’s word).  He poked my belly area, and as I winced, apologized and became the gentle giant after that.  All’s well, evidently.  Everything healing as expected.

Told me I could do some exercise…. still not too strenuous, like walking, exercise bike, treadmill, etc.  Said I should listen to my body, since it was the best judge of how things were progressing.  I do love this young man.  He has given me my FREEDOM.  We talked a bit about “dating.”  He just smiled and said, “Go for it!”  I will still observe the time frame given me by the resident upon my departure from hospital.  Still another 1.5 weeks at the very least.

Oh yes, Dr. Seaver found a tiny piece of dissolving suture sticking out of one end of the scar.  He trimmed it off.  I told him it was probably the side of the scar where the resident had done the sutures.  His laughter could be heard for miles…… well several feet.

My gratitude and sympathies to all those who have gone before me, who have had this wretched surgery before last month, before the techniques were so advanced.  I think the barbaric cutting of the muscles still goes on in many countries outside ours.  Spreading them and letting them ease back together after the hysterectomy is so civilized.  Yes, I am a proponent of alternative medicines, but as I’ve said in other places here, this was to be the only cure.  

I AM TRULY GRATEFUL…….. DR. MARK SEAVER IS MY GOD OF THE DAY!!!  GYNECOLOGIST EXTRAORDINAIRE. YOUR TEAM WAS A GLORIOUS SEPTET OF TRUE GEMS IN TODAY’S MEDICAL WORLD.  Dr.Seaver’s practice is within the walls of the Kaiser Permanente facility on Fair Oaks Boulevard in Sacramento.  What a sweetie!  

There were raindrops when I went into the back garden a bit ago.  First ones for quite some time.  Must be snowing in the Sierra for the temperature to be so low all day.  Highest so far today is 66F.  Record for this day was 114F in 1925.  No air conditioners… what DID they do?  Take off clothing and cavort at the river would be my recommendation.

It’s been lovely today — for me.  Thank you for joining me in my humble blog.  My sentimentality is getting a bit frightening.  More on that later.  

My smile is broad

later…………

falling asleep…

As I go to my bed tonight, I look forward to the days when I will be snug in the arms of a man.  It is more than a wish.  A culmination of events?  You bet.  Words once again fail me, my dears, for life is on the brink of change.  Stay with me and be amazed.  The situation is bursting with promise.

later………………

not another rhyming thing….puhleeeze!

This veritable Hebrew named Jack

Was lying there flat on his back,

When what did arise

Was a whopping surprise.

Now Jack is asleep in my sack.

 

Oh, dearie dearie dum dearie day….now another dilemma.  Stop my fruitcake brain from rhyming phrases into the form above.  I can’t think without exuding them.  I seem to be enjoying it.  You are the one who has to suffer the insufferable.  And the healthy thoughts of this new guy….  I find it very sweet and incredibly exciting! Yes, I said exciting.  Me.  That was me writing.  I have proclaimed excitement in my otherwise freaky deaky staid existence.  Pardon me sir…. my life is a blur –

Now I know you are all laughing, unless you know me well, and realize the rarity of my combination of words above.  

Ok… another subject for a few minutes:

The Life Before Her Eyes was yesterday’s film.  Uma Thurman and Evan Rachel Wood provided the constant flackbashing throughout the entire 90 minutes.  It was recommended by Caramay at the video store.  I go there once in a while to get away from Netflix.  This is something I might never have seen had C not handed it to me as something she hadn’t seen, but was planning to see soon.  Oddly enough, it could have been in Swedish with no subtitles and the audience might have still gotten the drift.  You know those angst-filled films with no real angst.  We are led by the characters through their respective lives, twisting and turning, fitting into impossibly small spaces within the reality of life on earth.

The whole purpose and foundation of the film comes at the very end.  The director, Vadim Perelman took the screenplay (Emil Stern) of a 2007 novel by Laura Kasischke and allowed the push/pull of the story to take over the mind of the viewer.  Just enough information…. spaces left for you to insert your own bits of life experience.  

The miniscule views of Bret Cullen (swoon, swoon) are just enough to keep the love alive throughout the entire time.  I always wish I had seen films with someone else.  The process of getting out of the film is quite often difficult.  Being able to talk it out would have been good.

Thinking of going to northern California soon.  Need time by the Trinity River… sitting upon those amazing river rocks, with the mountains dipping their toes into the water.  

Must take care of myself.  Surgery followup appointment with gynecologist/surgeon tomorrow.  Something interesting I’m going to ask him…… wondered if the resident did one side of the suturing, for each side is quite different from the other.  

If you’re still with me, thank you for tolerating today’s self-indulgent blathering.  Blogs are a wonderful thing, tra la.

later………………..

feel like a high school twit….

Long story short.  Met a man on Friday.  Liked the feeling.  Want to see him again.  What do I do next, being the high school twit-like girl I am today, Tuesday.  Now, one would think that a mature, sensible 58-year-old would be able to pick up the phone and call said 61 year old hunk…. I mean man and just say what she’s thinking.  What social stigmas have been engrained into my heart and soul, and are just now rearing their ugly heads for me to see….. making me jump back in surprise.

Perhaps best said in limerick form:

 

Dear Peg met dear Jack s’gone four days.

Her heart and her soul with him stays.

For when he dropped pants,

She fell into a trance.

Now Jack’s in Peg’s ooooogling gaze. 

 

What does a mature, sensible 58 year old woman do in this case?  I can but smile at the situation, for I do wonder whether or not he has a simple reluctance also.  My dislike of foisting myself upon someone has held me back……….. but with the fortification of a bowl of good chicken soup, I may have the huevos.  (Yes I still have those things.)

It has been a long, difficult day.  This situation is, quite amusingly, giving me the quirks.  Perhaps he’ll contact me.  Isn’t that what we all wait for?  Silly girl, silly girl.  Put it out to the universe.  He’ll be here before you know it!

All suggestions gratefully accepted.  Merci mille fois.

later……………..

surgery + 4 weeks and one day

Geez, Louise.  Here is sit at my little table in my tiny kitchen after having trundled out of bed to my computer half an hour ago.  I’ve written a limerick in response to that of another person, and realized just what I have on my plate for today…… breakfast at Napolitos (one of the best Mexican restaurants in Sacramento — only open from 6:30am to 2:30pm, though), an itty bitty hole in the wall on H Street, then home for an online meeting with an old friend at 11, a much-needed rest, then an afternoon with my senior ball date.  I like calling him that…. we always giggle about it.  Reconnected with the guy after over 40+ years of life had passed without any contact at all.  He’s in town from the east coast to spend time with his mom and other friends, and as usual stops by here to bring me up to speed about his antics since we last met.  I’ll be ready for bed by the time he leaves. 

One of my friends asked yesterday whether there was ever anything romantic between us… me and my dance partner from 1965.  I cogitated for about 3 seconds.  I don’t remember my first response, but my brain’s response was I’ve considered it, and am sure he has, but the twain has not met as yet.  Leaving that to the science of chemistry.

Now back to the matter at hand.  Surgery + 4, etc.  It has left my libido vulnerable, for I am out there for all to see….. all to feel….. at the end of the freaking branch with nowhere to turn.  I’ve bared my soul and other things many times – can’t take it back.  What is it about Jewish men when they return to the breast?  Is it the complete abandon with which they allow themselves to be “taken”?  The profundity of the actual climactic event?  Their handsome cocks and malleable butts?  For goodness sake, someone save this woman!  Surgery has only opened her up for the ubiquitous treasure hunt of life.  The hunt for red October… oh yes, no more red.  

If you are reading this, please tell me what I am talking about, for I am deeply into it and want to stay there for a while, even when the clock says it’s time to close…… yet another Doors reference.  You remember soul kitchen, right?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9l9l2ltTXwQ&feature=related

Aw, heck.  Time is fleeting, and still here I sit.  

Oh yes, back to the recovery….. remarkable.  When I met my new friend last week, as he came into the house, he said very seriously, “How are you?”  I think he truly expected a person closer to the invalid state. I don’t think I was truly ever there.  Hospital booted me out less than 48 hours post surgery.  I had achieved all 5 points of consideration …. pee, pass gas, eat solid food, walk to toilet unaided, control pain with meds.  Considering I stopped all meds the day after I got home, I thought perhaps something was wrong. Nothing wrong.  A remarkable recovery all round.  I have abided by the edict of nothing in the vuh-jay-jay (Oprah’s word) or the hoo hoo (socially acceptable word for vagina) for six weeks, but look out world.  I have reached week FOUR, and am taking applications for the deflowering of this newly proclaimed virgin.  

What has this surgery done to me?  I’m not saying I mind, but will I lose control on week 6?

Time for a shower.  No, not a cold one.  

The sun is lighting the sky outside. 

Now I have limericks on the brain.

 

later……….

the movie’s over…. turn out the lights

I feel as though I should have had company while watching that fillum… as I’ve heard it pronounced in angleterre.  It needs stopping and for a viewer regroup periodically.  I found my mind wandering to places it hadn’t been in many a year.  Sacramento weather today has been like the bay area, but without the charm. When it’s sullen and overcast here, everyone goes around moping save for those who live for these days. People dig out their overcoats, their down jackets, their heavy woolen socks and their UGGs.  Never in all my days in this town, have I understood that, for I wear the same wardrobe year round.  Sometimes I add a pair of cotton socks for the cold toes in the morning, but have shed them by midday.  And an added scarf makes the whole body warmer.  Let’s not talk of hats here.

So, I’ve breezed — or is it brazed (that would be braised) or maybe brozen?) past that odd film, the oddest part being John Malkovich himself.  A fascination with his carryings on precludes any concentration on the subtleties of the music, the scenery, heard and seen in previous Kubrick fillums.  

I prefer to remember today as the day I became acquainted with Geraldine (Gerry) Granger, The Vicar of Dibley.  For some bizarre reason, I identified greatly with this woman’s character.  I laughed, got teary-eyed (I know….. hopeless), loved the typical English stereotypes in the over-the-top roles some of which were created for specific actors.  One favorite moment was when the elderly woman on the town council made a cake for the birthday of one of the other council members.  It was greatly admired by all in attendance as a perfect chocolate cake, until she announced it was not chocolate frosting and filling, but in fact Marmite. Now if you have ever had Marmite, you will understand.  Enough said.

One of her other creations was parsnip brownies, each with a little shriveled piece of parsnip atop the gorgeous brownies.  She was testing recipes for her soon to be published book, 100 Ways to Cook With Root Vegetables.  We are never quite sure of what is in the actual recipes… most likely a good thing. Worth seeing just for that episode (in the first season).   

I still thank my friend, JK, for recommending the Kubrick delight.  It was rather like one of Letitia Cropley’s Vicar of Dibley gourmet creations.  The end result is solid, but confusion reigns supreme through the creation and baking.

Barry Lyndon next, I think.

I’ve had the basmati rice with a mixture of mushrooms, and other tasty morsels atop it.  My son will be over later this week for dinner. He might get Marmite cake, or mushroom basmati, depending on how I feel after going to the doctor for my checkup on Thursday at 1:30pm.

Just realized the title up there should say music, not movie……. the shoe did fit for a moment.  Apologies to Jimmy Morrison and his other three doors.

Try this if you have da noive…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NX3py3i15wA         it is continued here

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zns_IXFHn9w&feature=related

I loved that guy from a distance…. just look at him.  Now I see a tranced out, drug infested bloke who saw nothing but what was inside his eyelids.  I can still dream.

Later………..

basmati rice

Crikey…. the couple across the street are yelling at one another.  Why?  Why is she now driving away?

Break from the film…. making some basmati rice tonight. Will fill in the other stuff (veggies) when rice is done and left to sit for a while.  Anyone care to join me later?

Just had a call from a woman who wanted to stop by after work today.  She changed her mind.  Yippee!!! Was not looking forward to listening to her issues.  Ok…. basmati here I come.

Rice is on.  Back to the film.

yum……….

incised pottery…. an experiment

Well, I say I’m missing being able to work on large clay vessels since the surgery.  When they are made from about 20 lb. of wet clay (coil built, not wheel thrown), moving them around becomes a serious issue.  I snapped a photo of one recently completed on the MacBookPro the other day.  Amazes me what those little integrated cameras can do.  And yes, that is me and my newly incised pot in the photo.

sweet sepia

I miss the coolness of the clay when it is being formed by my humble hands into the vessels that come to me from who knows where.  From whence cometh this great love of the earth, so great that I must feel myself a part of it as I work.  There are times I wish to spread it over my face and let it dry so that I can feel it crack and fall off.  I really do miss it.  Glazing these seed pots is grand, but not the same as working with unfired clay…… my most favorite of pasttimes.

Now, I must return to the film I have chosen to view this afternoon — one recommended to me by a new friend of three whole days!  Color Me Kubrick, subtitled The true…ish story of the world’s biggest liar.

I’ll be back when I’m finished with the gem.

later……………

beware, my darlings

Beware, for it is I……… yes I who have caused consternation, ill-at-easeness, backpedaling, disdain, discomfort, unpleasantness……….all the while being calm, efficient, apparently in control, open to the world.  I am not what I appeared to be.  Until Friday night.  On that very evening, I became who I am to be — who I was in that moment was me au naturel, sans peur ou facade, ma vie pour le moment.  I recognized that woman as one who has been inside me forever, yet never allowed out either by me or by anyone with whom I have ever come into contact.  This is tres serieux, mes amis.  

The cause?  I will not say right now, for I have yet to accept what has happened to this unwitting, yet open-hearted woman of valour.  I am in place for a change of great proportion…. in which life as I have known it will collapse into life as I have always imagined it.

There is an overwhelming sense of…….  within my body right now.  Help me.  What is it?  A new unnamed experience.  Expression, aside from these few words, is elusive.  

Yes, I am still recognizable as the woman you know and love.  Trust me.  Something is different.

Later……