When I was in 9th grade, my volleyball team made fun of me for not shaving my legs. It had not even occurred to me. I wasn’t old enough to do that. I had to take a shower with my mom while she shaved my armpits, and then showed me how to do my legs. One night about a week later, they were out and I was caring for my sister, and I was shaving my legs and sliced the bejesus out of my thumb trying to clean the long hair off the razor. I called 911, the nice lady talked me through bandaging it. So much blood in that house, and we didn’t even live there that long.
I still don’t shave my legs if I don’t have to. I don’t shave my underarms until some hipster makes a comment about my political views based on my armpit hair, then I shave it as soon as I get home. I’m not trying to make a statement, I just don’t think I should have to shave.
“you’re making it weird”
I have dishes to do and I plan to race myself. I think there’s 40 minutes of dishes in there. So I’m going to get all ready to go, and then set the timer for 40 minutes and then see how well I can do. Then pie making and banana bread making, and maybe cookie making. The pies and bread will keep me in the kitchen, watching the oven temp for a long time, I may as well put together some cookies. I can always chill them overnight if I get tired.
Things I Didn’t Think I’d Have to do When I Grew up That I had to do as a Kid: Be the one to open the bills and deliver the bad news when they came in. And nobody really takes “don’t kill the messenger” seriously. The messenger is the first to go. At least I don’t have to hide the bounced check notices from my mother any more.
Yes, I am aware that I have parent issues and I need to just let it go. But it’s so much stuff, what if there is nothing left of me?
Wow. First time I ever successfully articulated that.
Things to do:
– tag and categorize the 35 journal entries I have made
– add the tag cloud to the bottom widget area
– add the calendar widget to the bottom widget area
– find a third widget, something fun
– really, Cyd, install the software, already
– make headers
– resize PSDs
– post new galleries
And Doc is staying home, so after he eats, I may rope him into the dish race. I can wash and he can rinse. Or vice versa . . . no, he is far too AR to let him wash. He still polishes the silverware and it is A) Cheap thrift store shit; and B) Hand washed and scrubbed. Little things he does. He can’t make a pot of coffee without scrubbing out every piece of the coffee pot first. Not just rinsing, but scrubbing. I don’t even ask him to make coffee anymore. It takes literally a half an hour for him and brewing time. Drives me round the bend. I will also make salads for him, if I am in a hurry to get into the kitchen. It takes 45 minutes for him to make a salad for one. I don’t know what he does. I shred, julienne, de-seed, and finlely slice his veggies and wash and break up his lettuce in 15 minutes. If he wants it decorative, give me another five. He’s in the kitchen now, on some adventure with roast pork and noodles and veg.
As I kneel
in the shower,
hot water
washing down
I chant,
“I love him”
over and over
as I wash his come
off off my chest.
I don’t realize,
he is listening
at the door.
Oh yeah, I have salmon and green beans to make! And don’t worry, the salmon is in a water bath, so it isn’t going bad. I just changed the water, and everything smells fresh as the day Doc brought it home. It’s going to fry up really nicely. It isn’t too thick, like their fillets tend to be. It is hard to fully cook the middle without overcooking the edges. Even if basting with butter while cooking, which I do avidly. Especially if I have fresh lemon to do it with. And I think I might clarify a half a cup of butter to do the cooking in. It would be nice not to have Brown Butter Salmon. I know some people consider it a delicacy, brown butter, but to me it just tastes like failure. It’s like all the big chefs that were tired of monitoring their fires banded together and just made up the brown butter craze. It’s lazy, not delicious. It’s the rest of the dish that is delicious in spite of the brown butter, not the brown butter making it taste good.
Now I’ve made things weird. Doc picked up the laptop and read the above. Fuckity fuck fuck.