Let's Go Ride a Bike

Recently Viva was riding her bike around the neighborhood with her dad and she was coming down a hill and got nervous as she was going too fast. Instead of braking, she put her feet down, nicked one heel on a bike pedal, and then in reaction, leaned too far in the other direction and pretty much ate it on the tree she was trying to avoid. They were a couple of blocks away, but her leg was scraped up pretty badly and she wanted Sweet Dub to carry her home. (Oh, there were tears! And moaning! And he was so mean because he would not just carry her!) He reasoned with her that they couldn’t just leave their bikes on the street, so she had to tough it out until she got home. She recounted the whole episode to me while I washed her wounds, put her feet up on a pillow, and treated her to a Popsicle and uninterrupted Disney Channel viewing.

A couple of days later, Sweet Dub had her go back to the same spot and ride down the hill again. She didn’t want to do it, but he insisted that was the only way she would learn to navigate the situation. She came back very proud of herself for having conquered her fear of the big hill.

So you know when you've been away from your blog for a while and you don’t even know what to write about? You think, I just have to get back on that bike and write something, anything, any damn random thing. And then you do and you even connect it to something else that actually happened in your universe and you’re all like, well, that wasn’t so bad. And then you realize you’re kind of talking in the second person and that’s kind of annoying. And then you’re a bit peeved at yourself. And around we go.

I’m going to put it out there: I’ve been a bit depressed lately. And when I’m depressed, I tend not to write about it, because that makes me dwell on it and that is no good for anyone. And I hate using my blog as a dumping ground for this kind of thing.

And there is this thing, this NaBloPoMo? Which all of us who have been blogging for a while are well familiar with? If I were participating I would have posted something every day this month so far. I thought about writing something cheeky and subversive like, “I declare this to be NoBloPoMo” but what sense does that make, it’s really just an excuse to be lazy, yeah?

I’m officially back on the bike and I’m not making any excuses for myself. Hello, Internets! What’s happening out there?

Oh, no she di'n't!

Yesterday, during the minor miracle that was Viva's nap*, I sat down in my reading chair and rather than power up the laptop, I read a book. More specifically, I read this book, which is easily one of the top ten books I read this year. In fact, I would rank it among my top two for the year. Now, your tastes and mine may differ, but I really enjoyed this book. So much so that I finished it and realized I had let Viva oversleep, so I lurched out of the chair without a second thouhgt. And I didn't realize until this morning as I was waking up that I forgot to blog yesterday, so I am once again not fulfilling the pledge of NaBloPoMo. Oops.

Well, it's a damn good book, is all.

*Yes! She has begun taking naps again on the weekend! And there was much rejoicing!

Public Service Announcement

Have you, like me, ever come across a laundry care label with only symbols and you have no clue how you are supposed to interpret them? How, for example, did a triangle become the symbol for bleach??

You know me, I live to serve. Find your cheat sheet here. Back to your regularly scheduled programming...

Now and Then

It is Saturday morning. Sweet Dub has taken Viva out to breakfast and then they are going to see Bee Movie.* They left after repeated, stern instructions from him for me not to overdo it while they were gone.

There are so many things I want to do right now and I can't:

(1) Exercise.
(2) Clean the house.
(3) Take my car to the gas station, get gas and put air in the tires. (I can drive with a towel over my abdomen between me and the seatbelt, but the squatting to inflate the tires would still hurt and I might strain something.)
(4) Gardening/working in the yard.
(5) Pretty much anything active.

The good news is that my abdomen has shrunk enough that I can fit into my comfy jeans, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I am heading back to the world of normal clothes! Oh, how I've missed you!

The weather today is perfect for a nice fall hike in Griffith Park. On one of my first real dates with Sweet Dub, he took me for a hike in Griffith Park. I didn't realize it was a test! (Ooh, sneaky Dub.) We drove up and parked across from the Greek Theatre and headed up a steep trail. It was all uphill for a good 5 minutes, then leveled out, then uphill again, etc. We walked and talked for a good hour or so, and I didn't poop out. I guess he was trying to see if I was actually in shape or whether I was thin because I didn't eat much.** Because he is a very active person, this was an important compatibility issue for him.

I am not as active as he is, but I do miss yoga and hiking and dancing. Those are my three favorite "active" activities. (Well, the three that I can tell you about. Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge.)

I am now going to fling open the windows and let the crisp air into the house and maybe "couch dance"*** to my (and Viva's) new favorite song by Flight of the Conchords. You know I like funny. I am slightly ever so in love with them:



"You like boom, I like boom, enough small boom, let's boom de boom!" Viva likes to dance to the abbreviated version we show her via TiVo (so she doesn't actually hear the f-word or the b-word. Give us at least a little credit.). Enjoy!

* Please note that if you click on the link for Bee Movie, you will be taken to a review by Common Sense Media. My adding this link should not be interpreted as my having read the review before sending my kid to the movie. Because I didn't. Because I am just that lazy. Thank you and good night.

** Which, in itself, is kind of ridiculous, since during the blind date at which we met, I ordered French toast, swimming in butter and syrup, and bacon. What can I say - it didn't occur to me to order an egg-white omelet. That is just not how I roll.

*** By which I mean sit on the couch and dance only with my shoulders and arms. Gently.

Let It Go

Eeps! Despite having forgotten about NaBloPoMo until a few days after it started, I am trying to participate in my own charmingly forgetful, ass-backwards way. I've been posting every day since I realized that was what we were supposed to be doing. Yeah, whatever.

At any rate, I just started reading the blog Flawed But Authentic, and one of the recent posts by Jessica was about forgiveness (sorry but I can't figure out where the permalink is, or I'd link to it...it's the Nov. 7th, 2007 post). When I was lunching with my dear friend MG yesterday, she mentioned that an old mutual friend had called her several years ago to announce that when they were roommates, she was struggling with bulimia and anorexia and that part of her program was to contact people she had wronged somehow with behavior related to that. So she rattled off a list of ten things she wanted to apologize for. Evidently MG was quite gracious and empathetic, but, as she confided to me, "I honestly didn't remember most of the things she was apologizing for! But then I didn't want to say that, because she has clearly been carrying around all this guilt about it, which I felt guilty for, and then I thought she might feel worse if she realized she'd been so worried about it -- I mean, she must have really had to buck herself up to call me in the first place if she felt this bad about it. And really? I probably was drunk for most of these incidents anyway!"

So I guess our old friend was asking for forgiveness for these actions which she perceived as wrong. And yet, MG certainly was harboring no ill will toward her at all. It made me ponder about how many things we all internalize and carry grudges and worries over -- things which may not really be all that important in the grand scheme of things.

In my own family, recently, more drama has arisen over things that took place in the past. My sister Lola and I had a conversation this week in which she referenced the way I had behaved in the past toward my mother, which is evidently impacting my relationship with her now. Since my mother never ever directly explains what is bothering her to the person she has a problem with, I have never fully understood what I have done. However, my mother has given Lola an earful. My sister won't share with me what my mother has said because she thinks it is between my mom and me.

Pause.

Yes, how I am not completely mental from these passive-aggressive twists and turns is truly beyond me. I feel we are at an impasse. It always seems to me, when dealing with my mom, that there has to be a better way, yet no matter how I try, it always devolves into something completely unproductive.

I know I can only do what I can do. I accept that I am a flawed but well-meaning human being. So for the moment, I am concentrating on being good to myself, protecting myself from the bad vibes, and hoping that understanding may ultimately flow from that. And trying not to wonder what I did that I have clearly glossed over (evidently, it is not just one thing) and fervently swearing not to continue this same pattern with my own lovely and amazing child.

Happy Friday, and if you can't make amends, make brownies or something.

You Look FABulous!

Today was "get pretty" day for no other reason than that I had a hair appointment already scheduled. I gave myself a facial and a partial manicure (didn't have time for polish) and then tootled over to the salon. They spent two hours coloring my hair, first with the base color, then the highlights. I went directly from there to a nearly three-hour lunch with an old college friend -- we had a great time getting caught up and talking about how much beer and vodka we drank and how little sleep we survived on back then. Then we laughed about our shitty GPAs. Ah, college.

It was a wonderful, very self-indulgent day. I highly recommend!

My Only Consolation

Oh my GAH.

Recently, I received a bill for $420 from a doctor I saw back in February for a consultation on my fibroid issues. The doctor did not have a very good bedside manner and he did a really hard sell on a procedure which is still fairly new, for which not a lot of data on effectiveness is available. At the time that I made the appointment, the scheduler told me, "Yes, we accept Blue Shield [my insurance company at the time]."

Now, some ten months and change later, I get a bill from them. Apparently, they've been billing Blue Shield and Blue Shield will not pay them because they are "not a participating provider." When I spoke to a Blue Shield representative this morning, she explained to me that even though the doctor's office told me that they accept Blue Shield, all that really means is that they will try and bill Blue Shield for the office visit. Here is a transcript of our conversation:

Blue Shield Rep: They are not contracted with us. So in the future, what you need to do when contacting a doctor is find out not just if they accept Blue Shield, but if they contract with Blue Shield.

Mama Blah Blah: Wow. Okay, so but you can see why I feel a little bit like I've been scammed? I mean, they acted like all would be well and my insurance would cover it. I'm not saying that's your fault, I'm just saying --

BSR: [Nervous yet empathetic laughter] Yeah, it seems --

MBB: I mean, what recourse do I have now?

BSR: Well, you need to speak with the doctor's office and explain the situation.

MBB: I have a feeling that's going to go over well.

BSR: [Again with the laughter]

MBB: Well, this is a very expensive lesson.

BSR: I'm so sorry. Is there anything else I can help you with?

MBB: [To self: Yes, you can help me find my can opener because I am about to open up a 64-ounce can of Whup Ass on the doctor's office. To her:] Um, no thanks. Thank you for your help and have a great day.

And three phone calls later, with still no resolution of the matter, I find myself leaving a message with one of the medical billing specialists. Frustrated, I hightail it to the Internette, where I drown my sorrows by reading one of my new faves; I speak, dear friends, of Shoe Blog.

I am a big fan of shoes, in theory. I love, love, love them. In practice, my feet are extremely difficult. A shoe which looks great and fits well in the store quite often tortures my feet when truly put to the test of a full 8 to 9 hour day. This means that I tend to have to buy rather expensive (to me) shoes so I won't further ruin my feet. This also means that I don't buy a lot of shoes, much though I love them. I'm thinking however, that I may not be able to resist these:

I mean, come on. Throw these on with jeans and a bright top with a cool jacket and that is pretty dang cute. They also come in orange!

And for those days when you want a bit more sophistication:

Henceforth I think I will adopt this as my motto: New shoes beat the blues! I'm also enjoying NaBloShoeMo tremendously. It's making my heart go thumpa-thump.

Oh, shoes. I do love you so.

Six Days Late, 'Cuz That's How I Roll

Oh, right, Halloween! Didn't I threaten promise you, my faithful readership, that I would post pictures of Viva's modified costume? I know you are past all point of caring, but since it is almost but not quite a week since Halloween, I feel it is still worth a shot.

Here is an action shot:


Bat Cat takes off to save the city!

And here is a head-to-toe, so you can get the full effect:



The problem with the head-to-toe shot is that you can't really see the bad-ass hand-sewn and hand-drawn logos I came up with, across the chest and on the utility belt. From far away, she still looks like Bat Man.

Damn it. I'm going back to bed.


Edited to add: Oh, it appears that if you double-click on the pictures, a new window will open and you can see a larger version (and can thus see the logos). Ah, the wonders of technology.

Tangents

I fully and finally admit to having succumbed to a bit of a funk over the past week or so. Tired of not being able to do much of anything, blah blah blah, so full of malaise that I couldn’t bring myself to write about it. It makes me tired even to type that, so moving on…

I just got caught up on my blog reading, and hey! Have you noticed that people out there are participating in NaBloPoMo? They’re blogging every day for the month of November! Hey, maybe I could do that! …Oops.

Anyway, after getting caught up on my reading and other things, I picked up the remote to watch a little TV during lunch. The remote wouldn’t work. I contemplated calling Sweet Dub at work and shrieking, “The TV’s broken!” because you know what, I don’t think he has enough to worry about. But the very idea of calling him and screaming that led me into a reverie…

When I was 6 years old and my mother was newly remarried, we moved from our low-income housing project to the home of S and R, two of my mom’s childhood friends. In hindsight, I think this was probably because once my mom and stepdad made it legal, we no longer qualified as low-income-enough to remain in the projects, although we were still pretty broke. At any rate, we moved into their large old house in the neighborhood where my mom had grown up. S and R had two little boys who were younger than my sister and I – the older one was maybe 3 or 4 and the younger one was a toddler, still in a crib. Early one Saturday morning, we were all awakened by the sound of the 4-year-old screaming, “Daddy! The TV’s broken!”

As I said, it was early. It was so early, in fact, that there was no TV on. The television was showing what we called, back in the day, “snow.” Yes, youngsters, in olden times, if you turned on the TV at, say, 4:30 AM, NOTHING WOULD BE ON. The airwaves were actually silent. And, as yet, there were no VCRs. There were no DVD players. There was no TiVo. Your TV was basically useless for a couple hours each day.

I know what you’re saying. You’re saying, “That sounds like hell on earth!”

Having been pretty much housebound now for nearly four weeks, I can tell you this: at some point, you do get fairly sick of television. Every person has a different tipping point. Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time on the phone talking to actual human beings rather than staring at the screen. Today, I got caught up with a very dear friend who I’ve known since we were 12. I spent a lot of time during my most awkward years hanging out amidst her very loud, very large, very loving extended family. There have been times when years have gone by and we haven’t talked person-to-person, but when we do, there is no weird small talk, no bullshit. We dive right into whatever is going on with each of us.

Too often, we make excuses for not having enough time to keep in touch with all the people who are important to us. I am grateful to have this recuperation time to reconnect with people. I want to make sure that I continue to do so after I get back on the hamster wheel of work-family balance post-recuperation. More to come…

Shortest Post Ever

It's been almost 4 weeks since my surgery, and I am thoroughly thick of sweatpants/yoga pants.

That is all.