Monday, September 26, 2005

I heart candy corn

At six AM, when I needed to get up, the sun wasn't up yet. I hate this part about fall.

But the part I love about fall, one of the parts, is the proliferance of Candy Corn everywhere. Not just any candy corn, of course, but Brach's candy corn. No substitutes permitted.

When time permits, I eat the corns individually, first biting off the white, then yellow, then that hunk of orange at the bottom. When I don't, I still eat them one at a time.

I glanced at the ingredients this morning, knowing of course that corn syrup was high on the list, and it was. Oh well. I can't be perfect.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Better than Taco Bell

Dinner was a question mark when I arrived home tonight, especially because I only have me to feed tonight. Ava and T are still rolling around the hills of Tennessee with T's brother and family and I am pretending to be single and childless for the two minutes it's really possible to forget.

I thought about eating the last third of a small chicken lasagna, of which I ate the first third on Tuesday night, and the second third last night. Then I looked at the homemade tortillas T's Mom gave me on Monday, and a can of Rosarita beans in the cupboard, and declared it burrito night.

Nobody, but nobody, can compete with my mother-in-law's tortillas. I tried, as a social experiment to make tortillas a couple months back and they were edible, but just barely. They weren't round, they weren't moist, and they had the texture of saltines. T said they weren't "bad" - especially for a gringa - but it's hard to compete with the tortillas of someone who doesn't have a recipe because she's been making them for THAT LONG and yet they always turn out perfectly.

There's no point in competing anyway; she loves to make tortillas.

So I heated up the beans, taking care to oil the sides of the small sauce pan to make clean up easier, or really to test the theory that the clean up would be easier, added shredded cheese to the beans and stirred until hot.

Then I threw the tortilla onto the live fire of the burner, because this is the way the Mexicans do it. Or at least the Mexicans I've known, which include half of T and half of my ex-husband. I agree though, the flame heats the tortilla well, sometimes the sides catch on fire, which adds to the drama of cooking, and there's one less pan to clean. I am all about less cleaning.

I spooned the beans onto the tortilla, but alas, there was one thing missing.

"Please," I said to nobody in particular, especially not Magi the cat who was watching me, "please tell me he didn't throw it away."

But he didn't. Or maybe I stole a few more packets on my last run for the border. I saw one, resting innocently in the cheese drawer.

Single mild sauce, seeking friendship, maybe more.

Thank you Taco Bell, for your contribution to my burrito.

Friday, September 09, 2005

In case of emergency, go to yoga

This really should appear as a p.s. to the post below, but it really deserves it's own posting.

After the posting below, I drug my reluctant butt to yoga, arrived a few minutes late, and the first pose we did was the chair pose, which my instructor said is great if you wake up groggy or are in a bad mood...

I also held a headstand forever, and for tiny little slices of time I was able to balance without having my legs on the wall.

There are miracles, and better moods, but sometimes they are hard to see.

Soul-sick

In the movie "Joe Vs. The Volcano" there is one scene where Meg Ryan says to Tom Hanks, "We're on a little boat for a while; I'm soul sick and you're going to see it."

I was driving home from work today, on a day I was supposed to be off but because I suffer from the compulsion to say yes when I should say no, I was working. At least it was only for three hours. Plus travel, four and a bit. So as I was driving home I was pondering my recurring malaise. My good moods last for fleeting, unnoticeable moments; my bad moods linger and hover, not like a rain cloud, because that is such a cliche, but more like imminent doom.

I am in a decent mood at work, because it's work, and because I can put on a smiling face for the benefit of the people at work, I can pretend everything is fine, pretend, pretend, pretend. Then I get in the car and drive home and feel the bad mood lurking when I tear off the mask of office pleasantries.

By the time I get home I am fully absorbed in the bad mood, wanting to murder or at least pack for my current scapegoat, who may or may not have done anything. I am irritated and pissed off when I see T, who insists that he hasn't done anything to invite pissed-off Julie to take refuge here for the night. He usually hasn't done anything. It's just this mood.

I don't know how to break it. I don't know how to escape it. I don't feel happy to be around anyone, I don't feel happy to be by myself. I want to quit my job, I want to quit everything.

On a long drive recently T and I came up with this fabulous plan that we would just pack and move. We were tossing locations into the air...what about Tennessee? What if we rented a place near his brother's house and then later bought something? Of course we wouldn't sell the house in the city, that would be foolish, but we'd just go someplace else for a while and if we didn't like it, move back. I just wanted life to go slower, I still do, but then in this imaginary situation in Tennessee where our whole trio could live off of $1000/month, I was teaching yoga classes or computer classes, not just settling down and being a mom. I was packing busy right next to my socks and t-shirts.

Really, I want myself back. I used to be in a good mood more than bad; I used to escape these bad moods with a magic word and a chick flick. Now, I feel an act of desperation is necessary, but even then I don't know if it would stick.

Diane, my wonderful alternative doctor, says I need fun, and I need to do something I consider fun. What is fun? I used to wander around the city, now I feel guilty if I don't spend my free time with Ava, she's getting big so quickly, I'm afraid I'm going to miss something if I'm gone more than I already am at work.

There is no winning this game. I wish I could call it a self-pity game, but I don't even think I'm on the pity bus. I'm on the apathetic bus. I just looked up apathetic on m-w.com and it said "spiritless" - yes, I feel spiritless. Where do I go to get my spirit back??? What do I do to get my spirit back???

These are questions, ponderable, unanswerable questions. But now, it's time to go to yoga, where my bitter soul may find some nectar.