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This is partially a test post to see if certain issues are resolved. Apparently, something got into one of my wp files making me appear to Google as a sales person of some male enhancement product, as well as posting my articles “as” Google instead of myself. Now that I’ve uncovered the hack, I’m busily hammering things back into place.
It’s been the worst weekend ever. My teenage self would probably say different, but here’s how the weekend has gone. With something like 28″ of snow falling between Friday and Saturday, it’s been hard to get anything accomplished. But on top of that I spent the weekend with a nasty cold that evolved into a case of pink-eye. Twitter friends turned me on to a remedy for that, which turned out to be something my own body happens to be making: breast milk eye washes. I know, it sounds crazy! But it worked!
So now the cold is better and the pink-eye has abated, but the heating oil truck that was supposed to come yesterday never came. I called and was told “I’m in the queue” but that some of their drivers were not able to make it into work, so they are running really behind. The tank, which was at a quarter full last week, is now sitting on empty, and I turned it off to avoid needing to have it primed. We thought we’d be able to get some kerosene to put into the tank to hold us overnight, but every single store is sold out of containers for transporting said kerosene. So the furnace stayed shut off overnight.
Jesse is now wearing two sets of pajamas and napping fitfully under two fuzzy blankets. Kieran is holed up with a space heater. I’ve busted out my own layers and am running the oven on the cleaning cycle. Dean has gone into Northern Va to swap out some work files, and hopefully will find some kerosene in case the truck can’t make it again today—which is entirely possible, given that it’s already snowed a bit here…
But we’re ok, if a bit cold. Jesse doesn’t seem to have been affected by my being sick, and everyone else is doing just peachy. I realized why this cold hit me harder than they usually do: I’m accustomed to being able to sleep all day when I take sick—and Jesse no longer sleeps all day, so that’s a lost cause.
But with no Momma’s helpers around—sitter and FIL are even more snowbound than I am, and Kieran’s only useful as a babywatcher when said baby is asleep—I’m staying busy.
And the day goes on — I wrote the above much earlier today. At 6:30, I saw a truck go by from my oil company, and wilted as it pressed on down the street–knowing it couldn’t have stopped even if it wanted to because there was so much traffic stacked behind it and there was no clearance for it to pull over because of the snow piled up there, as tall as 5 feet in places because of digs and plowage. But I compartmentalized the house so that the heaters are strategically placed and everyone has a warm place to sleep and the pipes won’t freeze (I hope). And lo, there is more snow falling here, work is closed again tomorrow, and I remain behind on work AND school because of all of this. Missed my entire week, assignment wise, of an online course–and doubtless will be graded down for it. But if I can rock the course for the rest of the term, I might be able to pull it out. We’ll see. And the web site at work is languishing. Hopefully tomorrow, with Dean home, I can catch that up.
And after all, if it has been the worst (extended) weekend ever, things can only get better, right?
RIGHT?
Oil watch now on day 6. Snowbound day 5. Help!
In the middle of ungreening this theme’s stylesheet to my preferred pastel-and-earth-tone palette, my macbook’s magsafe cord bit the dust. It kinda looked askew this morning and I had noticed it had gotten a short–typical of me; the cord I use to download my pictures from my now-five-year-old digital camera has the same problem. I’m slowly learning to pay better attention to whether I’m holding securely the connection part of the connection rather than pulling from the wire, but still, I thought I could buy more time with electrical tape, once I could motivate myself to get out of the house and up to Lowes to buy some. But just a few hours later, the crack was apparent, and no amount of jiggling or pinching seemed to restore the connection. So it’s over, macbook magsafe thingie. You’re being replaced just as soon as I can figure out where the closest apple store is, because for some god-knows-why reason, Fair Lakes is not a place you deigned to grace. The last time I was in an apple store, actually, was in Ardmore, Pa.
So anyhow, if you’ve stopped by tonight to read my latest on Podcamp DC, think of it this way: I never made it out of my workout sweats today, and neither did my blog template. While I could try to continue editing here on the pc, I know it would be frustrating as all get out, and besides, I do need to actually tend the house I own.
And a quick note on catching up with the A-list: I’m trying out utterz, but really appalled with how I sound. I think I’ll start talking in my southern accent just because at least then I can blame it on that.
Yesterday I got to work and realized I had gotten a smudge of MAC foundation powder on my shirt. This was all the more annoying for the fact that I wasn’t wearing makeup yesterday.
Today I had an episode of exploding yogurt. It’s blueberry, and so the resultant spot is purple, which color coordinates well with my striped purple-blue-and-white hoodie. But then I look down and find a smudge of indeterminate origin on one of the white stripes.
Clearly, I have no business being allowed in public without a body-sized bib.
…realizing you’ve been having a conversation with a dribble of vanilla yogurt on the lap of your black sweater.
I apologize for the radio silence on the faith fronts. You’d think, during this season of liturgical beauty and wonder, and given my earlier wish at the Abbey for a simpler Christmas, that I’d have much reflection to share on this year’s season, awake to the real spirit of it through new eyes.
But quite honestly, these eyes can’t afford Christmas decorations, nor an advent wreath, nor a nifty CD of Christmas carols–not after the winter I’ve had with my car. Since early November, I’ve sunk close to $1,600 on the blasted thing, and that ate up Christmas, put me behind on several bills, and kicked me in the spiritual chest. It’s put EFM at risk, and the slight influx of cash I got from it being holiday time went directly toward surprising the heck out of my son with a few things under the tree. (Getting visits from Santa at 13 is no easy feat, but his eyes were pretty dern wide Christmas morning when he realized there were seven more packages under the tree than the night before.)
Said car trouble kept me from being peripatetic and visiting my childhood parish for lessons and carols the weekend before Christmas, and seriously curtailed my trip to Philly. As a result, I have not been to church since Shelby’s ordination on the 15th, but what a lovely ordination it was.
Being away from church, though, something strange has filled my heart: the realization that the emptiness I feel in Virginia is simple homesickness. In Philly, I had a close connection with a dozen wonderful friends, and a wider circle of affection that made the place home. I had a conversion experience while driving alongside the Schuylkill river. My aunt and her family were my support structures while raising my son alone. I spent five whole days in the Delaware Valley, my longest trip back since I left a year and a half ago, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been wrong about my calling. Cause, you know, it’s so hard to hear.
No less committed, but realizing that the Diocese of Pa. is my home too.
Fortunately, I have a meeting with Fr. Jim in January wherein I can try and work all this out. And I think I’m here for the next few years, regardless: the kid needs me close, now that he lives with his dad.
Speaking of the kid, today’s the day that he makes a cameo appearance at A Light Blazes in the Darkness — okay, I’m a day late, but still, it’s really neat. It’s writing that fulfills.
God, help me to remember that I do forget to listen for you, as I have these past weeks, mired in my anger at cashflow and juggling the needs and demands and company of family and friends. Help me to slow down. Help me to concentrate on the slow-and-steady when the impetuousness tickles my chest. And please, God, a small favor: please don’t do this by breaking my car down again.
Been home since about 5, and it’s been that kind of a day, wherein.. as I explained to one of DFH’s friends on the phone, it wasn’t so much traffic as the fact that the journey had a few blobs along the way, of the sort that look tiny and inconspicuous until you drop a paper towel on top of them and they spread out.
For instance, the taco bell that had no line, but after we walked over to get our drinks, we realized that of the 20 or so people in the room, only two of them had their food. We ordered at 1:45, and
weren’t eating until 2:30. I almost got my money back–and several people did. What I have learned, this being the second time having had this experience at a taco bell in northern maryland, is that I need to break up with the restaurant for good no matter how much K loves the crap.
I had to take several alternate routes, not the least of which being that I departed Pottstown as if going home to Narberth, and ended up on this beautiful stretch of highway that connects 422 to 202.
Then we hit a massive snarl where 322, 1, and 202 come together in southeast pa. I dropped down route 1, slid over to newark on 896, and crossed the delaware line without paying a toll before rejoining 95. that’s a neat scam they have going on.
95 around Baltimore was like a pong game, with me heading over to the baltimore washington parkway to get around the backup after the tunnel and sliding back over to 95 to avoid the backup at the route 32 sinkhole. What is it with that road and sinkholes?
hit rush hour in maryland. was mostly going against it, but still managed to call DFH while at a complete stop in the third of six lanes on 95S just before it splits into the beltway.
Also, all I want next Christmas is a job offer in Philly that will allow me to move back into my old stomping grounds, somewhere in Montgomery County near Merion High, near my friends, near the restaurants I love, near my aunt, near my family, and near what my heart now tells me is home.
I don’t think I’ll have it by next Christmas, but it’s nice to have a goal.
Fate has decreed that on the one night i really want pizza (actually, it's more often than that, but we don't have the divine pizza here that we did in philly), the pizza place i dig is closed.
Further complicating matters is the fact that Dean was going to pick it up on his way home from work, and doesn't have his cellphone with him so that I can reroute him to another pizza place.
And lastly, I don't feel like cooking, and by the time Dean gets home, cooks something, I will be sound asleep, I'm betting.
Bebother and confusticate!
I did a brilliant job of explaining what happened to L. and DFH so that they would understand why what was going on was hurting me so much. And forgot to save a copy for myself. I’ll get it from DFH, because it explains why the bad juju was out in force.
The reader’s digest version is that I want to marry my best friend, and I saw someone encroaching on the “best friend” bond I have with DFH. So while they were perplexed at my jealous and possessive behavior, it took me several days to explain what was causing it in a way they could understand. DFH saw it first, because he had the benefit of presence for my explaining it in words.
This is going to sound hokey and new-aged, but I have a heightened sensitivity to other dimensions of consciousness as a result of things I have been through over the years. Each is progressively more spiritual, and my relationship with DFH in the past year has largely been about building bridges on each of these levels. L. was not a threat to my conscious, romantic relationship with DFH, but she was encroaching the unconscious, spiritual relationship I have with DFH.
She has behaved erratically in the meantime, which led me to believe that there was something more to her motives. Last night, she admitted that she was trying to forge a spirit-bond with my partner but never meant to come between us. I explained that I felt this “spirit-bond” was a potential destructive force because I crave that bond with my partner as much as I do my romantic bond with him.
None of this is meant to imply that i should have exclusive domain on DFH’s friendships. This one, though, felt sour from the beginning and I dismissed my own feelings as being irrational. I should have listened more closely to my intuition.
Now for the bigger question: What have I learned? I’ve learned that I crave a spiritual relationship with my partner. I’ve learned that no matter how much I want to extend out into the community and the world, I still need to tend the garden at home. I’ve learned that true love saturates all these levels of consciousness, and no matter how strong it seems, it is always vulnerable.
Also, a lesson that ex-Tim taught me came back again here. It is grossly unfair to be angry at someone when they don’t know what they’ve done wrong. He taught me this by becoming very angry at me and, to my knowledge, staying angry at me to this day. I still don’t know what I did that was such an affront to his universe that he felt inclined to walk out the door. Similarly, J-Hon spent a long time angry at me and I didn’t understand what he was so angry about. When I saw that happening here, I realized my primary objective was to help DFH see. If he then chose to be defensive and closed-off, that would have been a problem, but he wasn’t.
I share this because relationships are never easy, and some of the finer points of navigating them are worth sharing. They may help someone else someday.
Some will argue that ignorance is not an excuse. It’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation.
Thanks everyone for listening these past few days. Now to turn my attention outward again.