My Dad did it again.
I thought he couldn't possibly beat the full out frozen waffle/mayo episode. But he did.
I watched him from my place at the counter.
I was there to make muffins, not eat the batter. Though if my father wages his counter-blog, I'm sure he'll say the muffins didn't look that well baked.
But, this is still my blog. However unread and overfed I am.
So there he was.
He had a line up of crackers and he was putting margarine on each one.
Now granted, this doesn't sound that weird.
But let me explain:
Only minutes earlier he was ranting about juicing.
He has this hefty bag of carrots and celery just waiting to be juiced tomorrow morning. He even has them front and center in the fridge for an eager start.
The scary part is his disassociation with his "tomorrow self." And the scariest part is- I hardly saw my dad- I was so busy seeing myself.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
What If?
You taste like "what if's?"
Salty, never sweet.
I tried to play Regina Spektor's Fidelity, but my computer had no sound.
It hasn't had sound for days. Maybe weeks.
No volume makes me feel like my googling is soundproof or subtitled.
I press play on videos and I imagine what's trying to be said.
It adds a complexity to simple previews.
"What If I counted points?"
I did for 3 days and 14 hours.
I counted and counted. I ate and then didn't eat.
I heard about other peoples diets and how easy they were to keep.
"What If"
Come on, really- what if?
What If someone put sound on my computer?
Would my words be able to scream instead of just being read off the screen?
SCREAM!
Sometimes I think about screaming, but then- isn't just eating myself into oblivion- the loudest, most silent, blood curling yell around?
Salty, never sweet.
I tried to play Regina Spektor's Fidelity, but my computer had no sound.
It hasn't had sound for days. Maybe weeks.
No volume makes me feel like my googling is soundproof or subtitled.
I press play on videos and I imagine what's trying to be said.
It adds a complexity to simple previews.
"What If I counted points?"
I did for 3 days and 14 hours.
I counted and counted. I ate and then didn't eat.
I heard about other peoples diets and how easy they were to keep.
"What If"
Come on, really- what if?
What If someone put sound on my computer?
Would my words be able to scream instead of just being read off the screen?
SCREAM!
Sometimes I think about screaming, but then- isn't just eating myself into oblivion- the loudest, most silent, blood curling yell around?
My Aunt. My Memories.
At your memorial brunch, they served the sweetest Grapes. I thought of the taste for days afterwards. But when I bought my own, they tasted sour in comparison. I sat outside with my husband, remembering last summers visits. How you noticed everything. A comment for my daughters matching outfit. The way you cared about the choices I was making for her. You asked of summer camps and summer toys and I sat with you and watched the neighbor care for his garden.
He was there again. This time I watched the Cardinals and enjoyed seeing my husbands joy in them. I showed him things you showed me. The deck. The summer chairs you loved. (I think I will forever feel the guilt of breaking yours. I feel the loss for that chair). The way the porch was made to "almost" fit the sukkah.
And then I got passed with a card. "When I think of Eva, I think of..."
And I couldn't write anything then. Maybe not even now.
But, as husbands go- mine is always right. Even when I tell him he is so very wrong.
He said I owed them a cue card. But, I owe no one what I don't know yet.
My husband took two cue cards home with him and when I was quietly sitting at the table, he handed them to me.
I took them and stared.
When I think of Eva I think of life. I can not picture her not alive. She was so real. So larger than life. She didn't have to pause and she never really did.
So I didn't think. I try not to think.
Today I noticed at your stone that the font is so familiar. Your name is exactly the way it was on your office door. And I felt tears falling when I had the most perfect memory.
I pass the secretary desk and see your name on the door. In that font. And I peek in and youre on the phone. You let me come in and I fall so comfortably into the chair across from you. I listen to the rest of your conversation.
I think those years teaching at spring farm were my best years.
I was so happy there.
You gave me that job as an aunt. I didn't deserve it.
But, every day I proved myself and nothing felt better than you noticing.
I can see you coming into the classroom while Chanie is teaching, and we meet at the sink and talk. You always peeked your head in for a few minutes, even seconds.
But you were funny, witty, and if you had to be serious- you were kind and quick.
I can not believe you are not here.
I think to myself that you loved living. That you showed others how.
You made teachers better teachers and parents better parents.
You made us laugh.
You liked the coffee I used to bring you from second cup. This was before Starbucks.
And you ordered tuna pitas from not just yogurt.
But I know you placed the orders for me to get some fresh air. It was our shared laugh.
"Naomi, I will send you out later."
And I would wait to hear what for.
Later life drew me to you.
I got to bring you little tokens of flowers or fruits.
But really, I came for the company.
I came to see you sitting at your chair in the kitchen.
To hear your rendition of your day. To have you hear mine.
To me, because I missed your funeral, you are very much alive.
I have to remind myself that you are not here.
The font on your stone is cruel. It reminds me all too well.
When I think about Eva what don't I think about?
He was there again. This time I watched the Cardinals and enjoyed seeing my husbands joy in them. I showed him things you showed me. The deck. The summer chairs you loved. (I think I will forever feel the guilt of breaking yours. I feel the loss for that chair). The way the porch was made to "almost" fit the sukkah.
And then I got passed with a card. "When I think of Eva, I think of..."
And I couldn't write anything then. Maybe not even now.
But, as husbands go- mine is always right. Even when I tell him he is so very wrong.
He said I owed them a cue card. But, I owe no one what I don't know yet.
My husband took two cue cards home with him and when I was quietly sitting at the table, he handed them to me.
I took them and stared.
When I think of Eva I think of life. I can not picture her not alive. She was so real. So larger than life. She didn't have to pause and she never really did.
So I didn't think. I try not to think.
Today I noticed at your stone that the font is so familiar. Your name is exactly the way it was on your office door. And I felt tears falling when I had the most perfect memory.
I pass the secretary desk and see your name on the door. In that font. And I peek in and youre on the phone. You let me come in and I fall so comfortably into the chair across from you. I listen to the rest of your conversation.
I think those years teaching at spring farm were my best years.
I was so happy there.
You gave me that job as an aunt. I didn't deserve it.
But, every day I proved myself and nothing felt better than you noticing.
I can see you coming into the classroom while Chanie is teaching, and we meet at the sink and talk. You always peeked your head in for a few minutes, even seconds.
But you were funny, witty, and if you had to be serious- you were kind and quick.
I can not believe you are not here.
I think to myself that you loved living. That you showed others how.
You made teachers better teachers and parents better parents.
You made us laugh.
You liked the coffee I used to bring you from second cup. This was before Starbucks.
And you ordered tuna pitas from not just yogurt.
But I know you placed the orders for me to get some fresh air. It was our shared laugh.
"Naomi, I will send you out later."
And I would wait to hear what for.
Later life drew me to you.
I got to bring you little tokens of flowers or fruits.
But really, I came for the company.
I came to see you sitting at your chair in the kitchen.
To hear your rendition of your day. To have you hear mine.
To me, because I missed your funeral, you are very much alive.
I have to remind myself that you are not here.
The font on your stone is cruel. It reminds me all too well.
When I think about Eva what don't I think about?
A Relative Song
I've thought about writing. But, then I think my words do more harm then good. I leak revenge and at times I seem bitter when all I really am is sad.
And you see it.
The way vision feels when the windsheild wipers aren't working.
Is it something external making me appear blurry to you? Or are you so lazy- you fail to see I'm being hurt?
And you see it.
The way your eyes adjust to a darkened room. And the lights are turned off without a true warning.
But, I whispered it in your ear- do you pretend I didn't warn you?
And you see it.
In the candy wrappers tossed deeply into the garbage. In the way my back turns away from you.
But, I never write it. For fear of sounding too bitter. But, maybe I am.
Maybe sadness grew in me till it could grow no more.
Maybe life changed and I stood too still.
Maybe.
But, I think you know I see you watching.
And some say, Seeing is Believing.
But, do you?
Do you belive in me?
And you see it.
The way vision feels when the windsheild wipers aren't working.
Is it something external making me appear blurry to you? Or are you so lazy- you fail to see I'm being hurt?
And you see it.
The way your eyes adjust to a darkened room. And the lights are turned off without a true warning.
But, I whispered it in your ear- do you pretend I didn't warn you?
And you see it.
In the candy wrappers tossed deeply into the garbage. In the way my back turns away from you.
But, I never write it. For fear of sounding too bitter. But, maybe I am.
Maybe sadness grew in me till it could grow no more.
Maybe life changed and I stood too still.
Maybe.
But, I think you know I see you watching.
And some say, Seeing is Believing.
But, do you?
Do you belive in me?
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Weight Watchers Has Me
I think back in March I posted on Weight Watchers Wanting Me and if I actually tagged things here in my blog, you would be able to find it.
But, have no fear- weight watchers caught up with me.
Sure, I seemed to be running as fast as anyone can carrying this much weight with me- but somehow, with good friends and the promise of new skirt sizes- I joined.
...And even went to a meeting.
Then I came home and heard a message left on my machine from Dr. Poons Office. The protein crazed Chinese doctor who made me bruise my arm with blood tests. He seemed so much more drastic with a weight watcher meal filling my belly.
But do I cancel an appointment that was so hard to get?
Do I trust the feeling of a new start at weight watchers?
Hmm, if only I actually had comments in my blog- then my questions wouldn't be this rhetorical.
At my first ever WW meeting, (and I have been a member on and off since 6th grade) I found myself staring at a familiar face across the aisle.
Staring. Trying to pin pint where we had met before.
She waved. I waved.
I think I'm easier to recognize with all my weight issues. So no fair on her figuring it out first.
But, then I got it:
She's my neighbor from across the street.
We had a smile over it.
When she told me she has been a dedicated member for 18 years, I scolded her for never knocking down my door.
I have a feeling that she will be my silent strength.
Sure, I'm in a diet group. I signed up with two friends.
But, come on- Isn't there something to be said about the Joneses.
But, have no fear- weight watchers caught up with me.
Sure, I seemed to be running as fast as anyone can carrying this much weight with me- but somehow, with good friends and the promise of new skirt sizes- I joined.
...And even went to a meeting.
Then I came home and heard a message left on my machine from Dr. Poons Office. The protein crazed Chinese doctor who made me bruise my arm with blood tests. He seemed so much more drastic with a weight watcher meal filling my belly.
But do I cancel an appointment that was so hard to get?
Do I trust the feeling of a new start at weight watchers?
Hmm, if only I actually had comments in my blog- then my questions wouldn't be this rhetorical.
At my first ever WW meeting, (and I have been a member on and off since 6th grade) I found myself staring at a familiar face across the aisle.
Staring. Trying to pin pint where we had met before.
She waved. I waved.
I think I'm easier to recognize with all my weight issues. So no fair on her figuring it out first.
But, then I got it:
She's my neighbor from across the street.
We had a smile over it.
When she told me she has been a dedicated member for 18 years, I scolded her for never knocking down my door.
I have a feeling that she will be my silent strength.
Sure, I'm in a diet group. I signed up with two friends.
But, come on- Isn't there something to be said about the Joneses.
So Happy It's Mothers Day Today
Mothers day is everyday.
But it is so not.
If mother's day was everyday- how come today, with all the drama and all the tears. Three scraped knees and no band-aids left. How come today didn't win me any hallmark cards?
It is not that I need something big, it is that I wonder why you could not have made me something small.
A card. A child sent to hug me.
It's pathetic, but- at times I feel like you make me feel.
But it is so not.
If mother's day was everyday- how come today, with all the drama and all the tears. Three scraped knees and no band-aids left. How come today didn't win me any hallmark cards?
It is not that I need something big, it is that I wonder why you could not have made me something small.
A card. A child sent to hug me.
It's pathetic, but- at times I feel like you make me feel.
The Way You Sound
I have decided you can not hear the way you sound, because if you could- you wouldn't sound like that.
Mean.
Like being nice would cost you too much money and we all know you have none.
So, I have this crappy day full of crying background music.
I wake up and my one daughter is crying.
I fry eggs- and off goes the other one.
It's swimming lessons, lets cry some more.
I end up in the pool- and that's no laughing matter.
When I'm feeding my kids frozen yogurt and adding minutes together to figure out when I'm due for an explosion of tears- I find myself wiping at my own eyes.
So, I call you.
When tough gets going- I call.
And somehow you haven't learnt that I call only when I need you.
And you sound,
well you sound so mean.
And I am just the go-to girl for tantrums and tears.
And your voice might not be laced with tears- but your tantrum is evident.
The way you say your words sounds like they are being spit out at me.
And now I'm wet again.
Does it really matter why?
Mean.
Like being nice would cost you too much money and we all know you have none.
So, I have this crappy day full of crying background music.
I wake up and my one daughter is crying.
I fry eggs- and off goes the other one.
It's swimming lessons, lets cry some more.
I end up in the pool- and that's no laughing matter.
When I'm feeding my kids frozen yogurt and adding minutes together to figure out when I'm due for an explosion of tears- I find myself wiping at my own eyes.
So, I call you.
When tough gets going- I call.
And somehow you haven't learnt that I call only when I need you.
And you sound,
well you sound so mean.
And I am just the go-to girl for tantrums and tears.
And your voice might not be laced with tears- but your tantrum is evident.
The way you say your words sounds like they are being spit out at me.
And now I'm wet again.
Does it really matter why?
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Frozen Waffles and Mayo
My dad ate frozen waffles with mayo. When I say "frozen" I am not talking about the type of waffles I bought, rather the state they were in when he ate them.
I was watching Greys anatomy when he sat down next to me. I try not to look away from the screen. I'm pretty religious about the only show I watch- even if it sucks. Always when it lets me down.
But I thought I saw him eating a waffle. He was holding it in his hand, and it had some sort of white glaze on top.
So I looked.
And then I couldn't concentrate on Greys anymore. Not even with the Merideth/Derrick heartaches starting to Code blue on me.
"Are you eating a frozen waffle?" I asked my dad.
His reply:
"It's actually less calories to eat food frozen. The body has to work to bring the food down to body temperature."
"Is that mayonnaise on top?" I asked scared of his answer.
His reply:
"Um, Yes."
And so you see, this is why I have no hope. This is why family sized servings are good for one. This is why corns get re buttered and breads get slathered in mayo. This is why I write a blog where Mommy is "so not" on a diet.
I have decided that in the time It would have taken for my father to actually toast the waffle and maybe reach a little deeper in the fridge and take out a tub of margarine instead of the oh-so-easy to squeeze mayonnaise bottle- I lost something.
Not weight. That seems to love me.
I lost my singularity. My voice I thought was so unique.
Because the truth is this problem I've got myself stuck in... it runs very deep in this family.
I was watching Greys anatomy when he sat down next to me. I try not to look away from the screen. I'm pretty religious about the only show I watch- even if it sucks. Always when it lets me down.
But I thought I saw him eating a waffle. He was holding it in his hand, and it had some sort of white glaze on top.
So I looked.
And then I couldn't concentrate on Greys anymore. Not even with the Merideth/Derrick heartaches starting to Code blue on me.
"Are you eating a frozen waffle?" I asked my dad.
His reply:
"It's actually less calories to eat food frozen. The body has to work to bring the food down to body temperature."
"Is that mayonnaise on top?" I asked scared of his answer.
His reply:
"Um, Yes."
And so you see, this is why I have no hope. This is why family sized servings are good for one. This is why corns get re buttered and breads get slathered in mayo. This is why I write a blog where Mommy is "so not" on a diet.
I have decided that in the time It would have taken for my father to actually toast the waffle and maybe reach a little deeper in the fridge and take out a tub of margarine instead of the oh-so-easy to squeeze mayonnaise bottle- I lost something.
Not weight. That seems to love me.
I lost my singularity. My voice I thought was so unique.
Because the truth is this problem I've got myself stuck in... it runs very deep in this family.
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