irrational rage.

Yesterday, you slept till 1:00 pm, and I was pissed that you slept into the afternoon.

Today, you were up before I came out to the living room at 8:45 a.m. and that pissed me off, too.

Partly because you were laying on your ass watching cartoons.

Partly because you were eating up all the fresh blueberries I bought for another purpose.

But mostly because I didn't even have a few minutes alone with coffee and email.

I am angry that you have eaten or drunk: an entire half gallon of orange juice, and when I replaced it yesterday, you have now drunk half of the next half gallon; an entire pint of fresh blueberries; and 5 croissants that I bought for the dh, not you.

I haven't even checked the donuts; and I don't want to check 'em. I am afraid of what I will find.

I am also sick of your pizza crusts and boxes strewn over myh house.

family stories

It's freshman year in a very liberal, progressive college and my son is taking a course that teaches about Shakespeare.

The professor says: many of you may not realize that to "die" in Shakespeare's time had another meaning.

My son's hand goes up.

The professor: Yes?

My son: I know what it also means.

The professor (indulgent): Oh, you do?

My son: Yes. It means to experience sexual climax.

The professor (surprised): Why yes it does! Where did you learn that?

My son: From my mommy.

(I feel certain he didn't say "mommy" but it is much funnier that way.)

morning

So after washing, dressing, etc. I looked in the mirror and I noticed that the sunburn from yesterday could use some attention.

So I grabbed one of those little bottles of lotion that you get in hotels and smeared my face.

Only it really didn't feel right. It was smearing in a ... different way than it usually does.

So I got my glasses.

And I read the tiny bottle.

Which was labeled, in flowing script: Shampoo and Conditioner.

On the plus side, both my eyebrows are shiny, smooth and tangle free.

food in the blogosphere

My good friends Megan and Beth are writing in their blogs about food. Lovely essays about what they are making and how they are avoiding restaurants or all things fried.

Which makes me think of my love / hate relationship with food.

As anyone who knows me for any length of time, I like to cook. Actually, more accurately, I like to cook for people. I like to make Thanksgiving feasts for all my friends and family, making sure that there are protein dishes for vegans, and something for the one who eats nothing green, and respecting all allergies.

I like to make vats of delicious soup and deliver it to those whose bodies or souls need nourishing.

And there are foods that I love- chocolate and coffee, raspberries, fresh baked cinnamon rolls, potatoes with sour cream--

Some of those loves also contribute to the more troubled side of my relationship with food, as I am -still- unhappy with my weight.

However, what some might not know is that I also dislike making food. I dislike making food that is fuel: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I dislike making food that is taken for granted.

I dislike making food when it is tedious, another chore, nothing special.

I am thinking of making a great vat of potato leek soup: partly because I have potatoes and leeks that really ought to be put into soup, and partly because I have a friend coming home from the hospital.

But, at the moment, I have so many chores that even making food to nourish body and soul of those I love feels like another chore.

professional commentator?

Gee, I am having so much fun posting comments on the blogs I follow, I am running out of time to post myself!

Is there any $$ in commenting on blogs? Because I'm getting really good at it!

(plus collecting lots of words for my fantasy novel)

the Khord of the Sanwar

I've started collecting the non-words that you have to type in to the security box to prove you are not a robot.

I thought it might be fun to start a new language; and maybe I will.

Or maybe I will just mine these words to name events and nations in a fantasy novel.

Don't tell me

Don't tell me you want to help, you are there for me, and then dump all over me to make me feel guilty for accepting the help you offered.

Your timing is terrible. IF you were to tell me that you needed to back out of the offer, do it more than a few hours from the commitment.

I could have fixed this - on my end - two days ago.

Now I feel stuck, when I should have unalloyed joy for this one event.

proposal for a new language

So I've just been posting comments on some friends blogs, and I am noticing the almost-words that I must type to prove I am not a robot.

And I am thinking: I should collect these almost-words and create definitions for them. And start a new language.

THEN what will we type to prove we are not robots???

not a good day

It's not a good day. It is hot, too hot, and I don't have enough air conditioning.

My last gig with my troupe is not going well. Yes, I know that it is the traditional time for it all to suck, but I am deeply depressed by the missing actors, the actors missing- lines and cues; the social club atmosphere.

I am tired of parenting and pseudo-parenting teens.

This is the second day in a row I've had to go into bitch mode, and I don't like it, and I don't like me in that mode.

I'm tired of being fat, but it's too hot to move.

I am wrapping up this, my great creation, my artistic directorship, with so much layered on of what I am doing for others and little for myself.

And I am having a major attack of poor-poor-me weepiness. If I'm so smart, why aren't I rich? Or famous?

I know I am blessed and should count my blessings. But lately I feel like a big smelly heap of fast-fading unrealized potential.

teen parenting, revisited.

So, this not-my-real-daughter teen that I am extremely-temporarily parenting started off at our house by not showering for four days (that we know of).

This morning, she showered for (I kid you not) 50 minutes.

So, apparently, it all evens out in the wash.

the look

She gave me the look.

He and I had agreed: boundaries. Nothing artificial. We don't make her get up if there is no appointment to be kept. We don't tell her to turn off her cell phone or get off the computer just because it's annoying.

But we had agreed, he and I, that my seat at the table was my seat at the table. She is the new one, the one who is benefiting from what we have to offer. We have made room for her; we don't have to give her our space.

She sat in my seat.

He was supposed to say something; but he had stepped out. So I said something; I smiled and I teased, but I claimed my space.

She gave me the look: naked and raw, disdain and perhaps a flash of anger and hatred.

She gave me the look.

And she moved.

Interventions, inventions, preventions

I and my dh Ken are doing an intervention of sorts. My aunt, and her daughter my cousin, are parenting my cousin's two kids. The kids are now teens, both my aunt and my cousin are older, working, and majorly depressed.

Not a recipe for anything good.

The older, my cousin's daughter, is a particular challenge. She loudly announces her intense hatred of her brother. She doesn't do homework or housework. She sasses back. The dynamic in the house has been untenable for all concerned.

She claims she wants to be a star, but has done no classes, plays or taken any steps toward the goal. She just watches tv, plays on the computer, and sleeps in.

This summer is my last production with my teen theatre troupe. So, after various conversations, we offered and it was accepted that my cousin's daughter, KL, would spend most of the summer with us, at "Aunt Lisa's summer theatre camp."

So here she is .

The first two weeks, I was "awesome". I was taking her to meet cool new people in my theatre troupe. I was cooking great meals and teaching her to cook and taking her out to dinner.

The first two weeks she didn't have a computer, so she had- limited- opportunities borrowing my laptop.

Now we are four weeks in, and I'm not quite so awesome. Foolishly, if you ask me, her mom sent the family laptop with her. So, when not at rehearsal- or sleeping till noon- she is on her laptop or texting.

I don't take it personally; she's not my kid.

I've had one run-in with her when I pointed out things won't go her way if she isn't a helpful part of the equation (more on that later).

The prompt for this post, though, is this: she is constantly texting. I find it rude, and possibly dangerous- who knows who she is texting? But, she is fifteen, and this is something allowed by her parents/grandparent- who am I to intervene.

BUT

just now-- well, actually about a half an hour ago now-- her cell phone rang. She answered it, then sprang up and went to "her" room, saying- "did you get my text?" - She was in there for a long time, 20 minutes or more, door shut- then she came back, then her phone rang again, she answered, heading back for the room- saying "You ditched me, you totally ditched me!" - Now she is in the room but I think with the door open, and whoever is on the phone is loud enough that Ken and I are speculating that it's on speaker phone. And I can't tell if she is crying or laughing with her friend.

AND

I am currently choosing to stay out of this potential drama. I figure, she is safe in my house, because she can't drive, and has no access to a car, and is very rarely in the house without Ken or me or both of us. So, I think she really can't *do* much.

We're starting to see hints of what makes her mom and grandma so frustrated: completely self-obsessed, inventing fantasies for her future, telling outrageous tales of doubtful veracity of her adventures in the past.

Today, visiting with one of my teen theatre troupe members, KL counted her cash, and said she had $28, but she wouldn't be spending it all, because she is saving her money.

To buy an apartment in New Jersey.

my ring is too tight

So I went to a dinner last night with my dh Ken to celebrate the amazing financial miracle he arranged in orchestrating a loan for his school to achieve an expansion in this horrible economy, and I wanted to look great so I put on make up and used a curling iron on my hair and put on one of my nice rings. The ring was too big for my pinky finger and a bit snug for my right ring finger, but overall fit better on my ring finger so I put it on.

And, I am trying not to panic the next morning when it doesn't want to come off.