Today I miss Coffee like crazy. More than crazy. Derangedly-crazily-missing. And that sucks.
The End.
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I like talking to the cheese lady. I’m pretty sure she has a name – other than “the cheese lady” – but I’ve never asked what that name might be.
On Fridays when I grocery shop, I make the rounds of the store. I start with breads and vegetables, hit the organic section, up-and-down the aisles of boxed and canned foods, loop back to the dairy section and then over to the frozen food. The cheese lady works, um, in the cheese/dairy section. Every week I saunter up to her counter and request 40 slices of low-fat provolone; I eat some, I share some with the dogs. Sometimes I ask for a chunk of 3 year old cheddar for Coffee.
The cheese lady started with small talk – we chatted about stinky cheese and how neither of us likes strong cheddar but love the soft taste and texture of bocconcini. And our husbands are the opposite from us. The next week we talked a bit about dogs and rain and spring. Today we covered pink hair, dogs, weekends, home ownership (and the cost of real estate) and when another customer showed up, the cheese lady made her assistant serve her so we could keep talking about vegetable gardens, cigarette smoke in public and the fact that we are neighbours but didn’t know it. (She lives around the corner from me.) Every week we get a little more in-depth and this pleases me greatly. I like getting to know new people, even when there’s not much chance we’ll hang out together. The cheese lady has grown, adult children, a husband and has lived in the same house for more than 20 years. She said she was wondering where I was this morning because I was a little later than usual in arriving at her section. I liked that, too.
Little conversations makes me happy. It’s also nice to be ‘remembered’ and ‘recognized’ – something I had a lot of when I lived in Toronto but much less of when I moved back to Hamilton. Despite Toronto’s huge size, there are many more small shops than super-mega-marts, and that means more personal interaction. It’s nice to have someone look happy to see me when I’m buying something simple (like cheese) and ask how the dogs are doing. I suppose the pink hair helps with being recognized, too.
And, of course, now Coffee and I are planning to relocate. Sheeesh.
I have absolutely no words. I feel sick to my stomach and unspeakably sad. I didn’t want to watch the whole thing, but it seemed like one of those things that I *had* to. To understand and to see exactly what has happened *since* Chernobyl. To see the children that could be my own – they are the right ages.
You’ll need sound in order to hear the photographer’s discussion of the photos and his observations. And I do think you should watch it, yes. I do.
Any comfort food (mac and cheese is my personal favorite) is friends with benefits sex. It doesn’t have to be exciting but it makes you happy. Probably not the best thing for you, but you feel better afterwards.
(Link)
1. Oprah, I need you to please – please! – stop with the whole, “This is the most important show you’ll ever watch..” pronouncements that are followed by an hour of the most depressing television in history. I really do know that the world is full of shit and horrible things and evil people. I also know that I am a woman who can’t watch these shows without getting all upset (in tears, sometimes) at the injustices that people face around the world. I cannot, no matter how much I’d like, solve the world’s problems, and I do what I can (as I can) but please don’t make me feel guilty for not simultaneously curing disease, supporting refugees, sending money to Africa or adopting every lost child in the world. Because y’know what? It’s not a lack of desire that prohibits me from doing all those things. I know I could just change the channel, but you TOLD me it was the most important show I’d ever watch!
2. Lucy Liu and Lisa Ling are the same person in my mind. Until I see one of them, and then I’m all, “What? That’s not Lucy Liu. That’s Lisa Ling.” (or vice versa). I can only blame the “double L” names.
3. I am so accustomed to blurting out my thoughts – without much of a censor – that when I am not emailing/talking to my friends and instead am emailing/talking with strangers I am spending an inordinate amount of time wishing I hadn’t emailed/said anything at all. Ha! Bad influences, all of you. All of you.
4. Can someone please tell me where Home Detention Lady went? Never mind, I found her!
5. I’ve been gleefully working on my Box o’ Joy box for this month. This may be one of my favourite parts of WNET – I get so worked up about sending mail! Eeeee! FUN!
6. My head hurts and all I’ve done today is fart. What kind of combination is THAT?
There are two adults, two dogs, and a bunch o’ small animals living in our house. We eat the usual collection of food, though, admittedly, we don’t eat frozen dinners/entrees/etc beyond frozen burgers and ice cream. We do drink pop and juice, we do have take-out sushi occasionally, and we do things like laundry and vacuuming and otherwise live our lives. Being honest, we don’t pay a lot of attention to the quantity of packaging on products we purchase – our needs are quite simple.
In our kitchen we have a garbage pail, a basket into which we throw all recycleables and a green bin into which we throw all our various scraps and food waste. Inside our fridge is a plastic container that holds only vegetable waste that’s suitable for our vermicomposting bins.
Once a week, I gather up everything that we need to toss out. The paper products, the tin foil, the cans and bottles and jars, the scraps of food, the generic detritus of life – it’s all sorted in about 10 minutes (maximum!) and placed outside.
At the end of the driveway this morning, for example, rested two recycling boxes (one for papers and one for containers) a large wheeled green cart (filled with vacuum cleaner lint, mooshy food, freezer-burned meat and god-only-knows-what else) and a black garbage bag that was 1/4 full. It could easily have sat for another week or two before it would be filled. The green bin and recycling bins were full to the brim. This is pretty typical for us, this amount of trash/compost/recyclables – the amount only increases when we buy a lot of items that have unrecyclable packaging (say, PVC-plastic) and then I feel pretty guilty.
Our neighbours across the street – two adults, no kids, no animals that we’ve ever seen – put out four bags of garbage, two overflowing recycle bins and no green bin. Sometimes there are even more bags of trash. I can’t figure out what the hell is inside those garbage bags. How can two people generate THAT MUCH garbage in 7 days? Coffee asserts that it’s because they’re not using their green bin (obviously) but I still can’t figure out the sheer volume of .. stuff! that would fill four garbage bags. And they’re not half-empty! They’re *stuffed*. It makes me mental. Absolutely, positively, mental.
In our case, I’m hoping to get down to minimal recycling too – knowing that it’s not exactly the world’s most efficient way to deal with things. Lately I’ve been sorting and clearing out cupboards and things, recycling the 8 billion yogurt containers and the mismatched lids, for example. And for the next few months, I’m sure that trend will continue. When we’re done, I’m aiming for a considerably smaller weekly output. Clearly, SOMEONE has to make up for the people across the street.
I am feeling spectacularly un-creative and un-inspired lately. Clearly there are two things I can do to remedy this:
- redesign my blog and get my ass back into posting actual entries instead of just hundreds of links to things other people have written. I miss my old online journal and I miss the feeling of a good long writing spell and I miss putting my thoughts out into the world (albeit a condensed world of, what, six people? no matter, it’s all good..)
- make an appointment with Greg to talk about my next tattoo and to get him started on drawing it. He does excellent work and I want something new inked on me very soon. Spring is an excellent time for adornment.
There must be some other things I can do to get myself all enthused about the world again. I just, uh, have no idea what; I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.
CANCER (June 21-July 22): “An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all,” said author Elbert Hubbard. I don’t know if I would go quite that far, but I do like the notion that the best ideas are disruptive to the status quo. Your mission in the coming weeks, Cancerian, is to flirt with and even embrace ideas like that–revolutionary perspectives that tend to undermine the way things have always been done and usher in fresh approaches to living the good life. For inspiration, you might want to check out The World Question Center (http://snipurl.com/lpik), which is collecting answers to the question “What is your dangerous idea?”
Lately, I have this nagging feeling of anxiety in the back of my head. I have nothing to be anxious about, of course, but that’s never stopped me before.
There is nothing wrong with any of the following:
- my marriage or relationship with Coffee
- my finances or anything related
- my pets (dogs, birds, hamsters are all fine)
- my health (other than seasonal allergies and a cold)
- my friends (at least, no one has said anything)
- my car, house or belongings (nothing broken or explode-y)
So, um, yeah. As far as I know, everything is peachy. And still.. this feeling.
My best guess is that I’m picking up some vibes from one of YOU. That’s right. It’s YOUR fault. Either you’re reaaaaaaaaaally stinkin’ mad at me or you’ve got some anxiety of your own. Speak up, people. I want to get this feeling OUT OF MY HEAD!
Confidential Note to the Universe:
This is NOT a request for YOU to start dumping shit on me. Just so’s y’know. Really. Please.
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