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greenstormFirst:
Marriage
Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.
Lawrence Raab
There's something I haven't been telling you. I've been busy this week -- it's been a lovely, lovely week and I've worked hard so my body's remuscled all over. I've biked to the rubber-leg point (I've never been there before-- felt like my thighs are sheathed in fire, felt bowling balls in my calves, or weak, but never before like my bones bent ever-so-gently like stiff rubber with each pedal push. My commute home is a half-hour of uphill) and loved it. I've carried one or two cubic yards of soil up a very steep slope in buckets, dodging old shrubs and keeping my balance. I've helped disassemble, move, and rebuild two lock-block retaining walls (I've never used lock blocks before, they're easy enough that a retarded kindergardener could put them together).
I've ditched my bus pass, and may buy some more bus tickets, but not right now. So, all my commuting will be more-or-less on the bike. I want it to snow so I have an excuse to get snow tires for my baby. She's in the shop right now after a gear-shift exploded; when she comes home I'm going to take my auxillary bike apart down to the frame and put it back together to learn how. Whee!
I've been snowed on. I've watched Angus start to grow into himself, to begin to feel the personal power that we all have over ourselves and our actions but never seem to know about for the longest time. He's just beginning to be confident in his own decisions, to challenge the world around him when he knows he should, and it's beautiful. I've been looking forward to this since I hooked up with him. Perhaps because of the exercise I've felt re-empowered myself. I've discovered all sorts of cousins, bought a gift that would have had me shaking in my shoes to contemplate two years ago, and begun to win a fight with bronchitis.
I've learned that my dad is dead.
Realise I haven't seen my dad since I was two or something. My rediscovered family includes a relatively eccentric bunch of people ('colourful characters' was a term invented for us). I'm breaking down into incoherency now because I have no idea how to say this, or what to say. My cousin told me the news, and it hurt like crazy for about two seconds, and now I don't know what I feel. I usually take my griefs and drag them away from the incident into the safe space of the future where I can mourn them and lick any wounds they inflict. I don't know if I'm sad or if I'm just... I don't know. I have to tell mom, but she's sick right now and I want to tell her face to face. I don't know if she'll care or not. I don't, you see, know anything.
My dad has always been a black hole. There have been a couple stories from mom, now a couple contradictory stories from my newly discovered and quite eccentric uncle, and a few stories from my cousin from when she was small. I have a couple of pictures of him (I could get a picture of him from when he was older, one that's not twenty-seven years old!) and a necklace that used to be his and I saw the weddign ring that was his and mom's once but I think it's lost (I wanted to keep it so badly when I discovered it, and now who knows where it is?). Now there's no way of knowing what he was like. My family wants me to like them, they want to justify themselves to themselves -- on both sides -- and so the stories will come out the way all of our experiences come out, slanted as to other people's thoughts and feelings and even behaviours. I'll never know my dad, never see when he smiles or what his eyes look like when he does or when he particularly doesn't. I'll never know what kind of a hugger he is.
Apparently nudism runs in my family.
I think so does fear of abandonment. And so does abandonment. And so does abuse.
I have no regrets whatsoever about being raised by my mom. I may have some regrets about my step-dad, but more for my brothers' sake than for my own; I think I can heal from any wounds I received. Hell, I talk to Angus about financial stuff easily now -- the first time I talked to Chris about money I could barely speak I was crying so hard, it felt so shameful -- and I've tromped my abandonment stuff down to a couple of days per month.
I do have regrets about the information black-hole I have, about never being able to meet my father, about never having told him I loved him.
So.
Marriage
Years later they find themselves talking
about chances, moments when their lives
might have swerved off
for the smallest reason.
What if
I hadn’t phoned, he says, that morning?
What if you’d been out,
as you were when I tried three times
the night before?
Then she tells him a secret.
She’d been there all evening, and she knew
he was the one calling, which was why
she hadn’t answered.
Because she felt—
because she was certain—her life would change
if she picked up the phone, said hello,
said, I was just thinking
of you.
I was afraid,
she tells him. And in the morning
I also knew it was you, but I just
answered the phone
the way anyone
answers a phone when it starts to ring,
not thinking you have a choice.
Lawrence Raab
There's something I haven't been telling you. I've been busy this week -- it's been a lovely, lovely week and I've worked hard so my body's remuscled all over. I've biked to the rubber-leg point (I've never been there before-- felt like my thighs are sheathed in fire, felt bowling balls in my calves, or weak, but never before like my bones bent ever-so-gently like stiff rubber with each pedal push. My commute home is a half-hour of uphill) and loved it. I've carried one or two cubic yards of soil up a very steep slope in buckets, dodging old shrubs and keeping my balance. I've helped disassemble, move, and rebuild two lock-block retaining walls (I've never used lock blocks before, they're easy enough that a retarded kindergardener could put them together).
I've ditched my bus pass, and may buy some more bus tickets, but not right now. So, all my commuting will be more-or-less on the bike. I want it to snow so I have an excuse to get snow tires for my baby. She's in the shop right now after a gear-shift exploded; when she comes home I'm going to take my auxillary bike apart down to the frame and put it back together to learn how. Whee!
I've been snowed on. I've watched Angus start to grow into himself, to begin to feel the personal power that we all have over ourselves and our actions but never seem to know about for the longest time. He's just beginning to be confident in his own decisions, to challenge the world around him when he knows he should, and it's beautiful. I've been looking forward to this since I hooked up with him. Perhaps because of the exercise I've felt re-empowered myself. I've discovered all sorts of cousins, bought a gift that would have had me shaking in my shoes to contemplate two years ago, and begun to win a fight with bronchitis.
I've learned that my dad is dead.
Realise I haven't seen my dad since I was two or something. My rediscovered family includes a relatively eccentric bunch of people ('colourful characters' was a term invented for us). I'm breaking down into incoherency now because I have no idea how to say this, or what to say. My cousin told me the news, and it hurt like crazy for about two seconds, and now I don't know what I feel. I usually take my griefs and drag them away from the incident into the safe space of the future where I can mourn them and lick any wounds they inflict. I don't know if I'm sad or if I'm just... I don't know. I have to tell mom, but she's sick right now and I want to tell her face to face. I don't know if she'll care or not. I don't, you see, know anything.
My dad has always been a black hole. There have been a couple stories from mom, now a couple contradictory stories from my newly discovered and quite eccentric uncle, and a few stories from my cousin from when she was small. I have a couple of pictures of him (I could get a picture of him from when he was older, one that's not twenty-seven years old!) and a necklace that used to be his and I saw the weddign ring that was his and mom's once but I think it's lost (I wanted to keep it so badly when I discovered it, and now who knows where it is?). Now there's no way of knowing what he was like. My family wants me to like them, they want to justify themselves to themselves -- on both sides -- and so the stories will come out the way all of our experiences come out, slanted as to other people's thoughts and feelings and even behaviours. I'll never know my dad, never see when he smiles or what his eyes look like when he does or when he particularly doesn't. I'll never know what kind of a hugger he is.
Apparently nudism runs in my family.
I think so does fear of abandonment. And so does abandonment. And so does abuse.
I have no regrets whatsoever about being raised by my mom. I may have some regrets about my step-dad, but more for my brothers' sake than for my own; I think I can heal from any wounds I received. Hell, I talk to Angus about financial stuff easily now -- the first time I talked to Chris about money I could barely speak I was crying so hard, it felt so shameful -- and I've tromped my abandonment stuff down to a couple of days per month.
I do have regrets about the information black-hole I have, about never being able to meet my father, about never having told him I loved him.
So.
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no subject
Date: 2008-12-13 06:41 pm (UTC)I want to say that I am sorry for your loss ... but I realize it is not just the loss of the person, but rather the loss of the knowledge of the person. Maybe that makes it easier ... but somehow I doubt that.
Regardless, *hug*
no subject
Date: 2008-12-13 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-14 06:15 pm (UTC)But I am very sorry for all the different ways in which this is a loss. You know where to reach me if you need.
I know you're not a Christian, but I think this statement will make sense to you all the same, judging by the thoughts you're working through here: there is a place in which we can feel pain at how something turns out without accusing God of any wrongdoing or error in it. If you let it turn into bitterness, then there's a problem, but just acknowledging that it hurts is perfectly fine. Even outcomes that produce good things can be painful.
Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-15 06:52 pm (UTC)**About this weekend** - I wanted to double check that Angus is all right with coconut milk, and assume I am correct in thinking that soy sauce is a no-no for someone with his allergies. Adrian is planning oven-roasted chicken and veggies pulled from our garden and roasted in a little grape seed oil with garlic and spices. We roasted some acorn squash this weekend, and thought we could make soup - but I wanted to check on 'organic' chicken broth issues(?)
The evening of the 20th has become a last-minute family get together, which we are obliged to attend, but I put off the event on the 21st because we have a specific dinner date with you and he (and I get annoyed when people plan things last-minute!). If you'd like to come over on Friday for tea, I can pen you in :)
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-16 10:55 pm (UTC)Coconut milk is good. Soy sauce is ok if it's the tamari kind without wheat (look at the side and check ingredients, some has wheat and some doesn't). As long as the chicken broth doesn't have wheat or dried egg it's fine-- you'd be surprised what they put in some of that stuff.
Dinner already sounds exciting!
Friday I'm double-booked with family dinners, actually-- unless you're free during the day? What are the times looking like for the 21st? Want help cooking?
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 01:10 am (UTC)I'm hoping that Angus likes peaches for dessert? I'm looking to whip up some type of crumble with millet, flax, amaranth, and buckwheat flour/cane sugar and honey...
---Will duly check the broth ingredients
---Am not free during the day on Friday - I work the 9-5 grind :(
---The 21st is simply listed as "Erin and Angus for dinner." Come over whenever you feel like it in the afternoon - give us a shout to give us some idea of timing, and if you need to be picked up from the Skytrain station :) We can play Rock Band, a boardgame or cards, light a fire, listen to music, cook and just hang out.
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 01:19 am (UTC)I don't -know- about oats, there seem to be conflicting sources of information.
He's got IBS, and wheat exacerbates things quite a bit (but dairy and eggs are death-pain, with wheat he can 'cheat' at intervals)
It's funny, most soy sauces have wheat before soy in the ingredients. This would make them 'wheat sauce'? ;)
I have an unexpected holiday from everything being snowy and frozen. Bad on the wallet, good for fun.
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 05:50 pm (UTC)um....Adrian hates Apples to Apples - some personal issue of his.
I just found out that the key ingredient I was missing for a non-dairy crumble is coconut oil - I have a food sensitive co-worker, and she has also advised spelt flour instead of buckwheat. I'll avoid the oats to be safe, thought Bob's Red Mill and other suppliers apparently have GF oats that are processed seperate from other grains. I've been advised the use of coconut oil allows you to make a 'pea' crumble crust, and then adds an exotic flavour to the finished product. We shall see!
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 05:54 pm (UTC)Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 08:15 pm (UTC)Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-19 01:58 am (UTC)A mix of rice and something else is generally good, rice is so mild. Sorghum is great if you can find it, otherwise I find both buckwheat and pea (and chickpea, which is really easy to find too) to be strong but each good in their own way-- buckwheat suits chocolate well, for instance.
I can bring over some sorghum flour if you like?
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-19 05:17 pm (UTC)Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-20 05:41 pm (UTC)The baked pakoras needed some oil added to them, I think. I should give you the chutney recipes I used -- I got them out of the Vij's cookbook and they're fantastic.
Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 05:57 pm (UTC)Re: Unfinished business
Date: 2008-12-17 01:20 am (UTC)We will bring a game called 'Apples to Apples' too.