Kiss My Ass, Boston

You and your g-d rainstorms. I HATE this winter. More sloppy goop followed by pouring freezing rain predicted for Friday while NH gets 6 to 12 inches of pretty white snow.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Thoughts on Marriage

So I’ve been thinking a lot about marriage lately, and moral compasses, and what I see as a general lack of them in a lot of men, and the role of religion. While reading this book, about cadets at West Point, I was struck by how much it made me think I wanted to marry someone who went there – they’re really taught about honor, sacrifice, and commitment, three things I think you need in a marriage, and three things I’ve seen a lot of men completely ignore.

I see both Catholicism and Judaism honoring the sanctity of marriage in ways I admire and I think Catholics and Jewish folks tend to find common ground because the religions to me are similar in a lot of ways – heavy on the ritual and the commitment to family, and, when they’re doing it right, both religions foster a strong and positive sense of community.

I don’t think I could ever convert to Judaism, although I know (and fully support) someone who has. But the longer I am alone, the more this idea of what a good marriage is builds up in my mind, and for me it’s one that happens in the Catholic church. I just think they make you ask the right questions before you get started, for one thing. And I fully do believe in the idea of marriage as a sacrament and a spiritual union.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this – other than making McMumsy very happy at my thoughts – she picked up this mildly wacky but also in some ways interesting magazine on natural family planning (it was their wedding issue) which has prompted my thinking.

But how do you ever get from point A – single woman who wants a husband and family and wants to be the primary caregiver of the kids (but doesn’t want that to mean she stops working forever if at all) and wants that family to go to church, a church she doesn’t necessarily believe in? – to point B, actually being in that situation? How the hell do you ever even bring that up? I tell you, 33 makes dating very very serious. And the more work I do on myself spiritually, the more it ups the ante for anyone getting anywhere near my pants.

Geez.

McPolack Rates the Oscar Dresses

OK only two dresses because I am busy.

Gwynnie, nooooooooooo...trying to be all young and cool in the Zac Posen. But you are a mommy with one child named after a piece of fruit and another named Moses. Also this dress is kinda ugly. I don't like the cello shape of it, I do not like the color of it, I am not a fan of your hair over one shoulder like that.

Rachel, yes, yes yes! This was my favorite dress of the evening...I love the material, the jewelry, the fancy gibberdygew going on in the back, the bustline. Gorgeous! And you are a mommy who did not name her child for a fruit or a vegetable or a builder of large wooden boats OOPS-I MEANT PARTER OF THE RED SEA.

Strong Like Bull

I have grown to accept the broad shoulders passed down to me by generations of sturdy peasants and have spent the last couple of years stretching them and making them ever stronger. While working out at the Y in Albany with JoyceFrances last weekend on this wacky pectoral machine I noticed that I had some barrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrely noticeable vein action. I thought it looked good.

And then tonight, in yoga, ahhhhhhhhh, the Holy Grail was (semi) achieved for me: Forearm Stand. I managed to get up into it, albeit with the yoga instructor holding my hips, and stay in it for several breaths. Honestly I was a little giddy.

Work

Things have been busy this week and the blog has been more back of my mind than front -- so apologies if it has been boring. Today I went to the library and knitting circle and I thought, my goodness, I am becoming a dowdy spinster. Then tomorrow I am knitting more. But I still have hot bra and panty combos that I can fit into, plus an arsenal of slutty makeup from Victoria's Secret, so all is not lost.

There are updates on the ADD front but right now I am excited to have tea and watch a PBS special on the marines. So until then, TTFN!

Slush

Went for my first run in a week today. What with the storm and the inches-thick ice all over the place I just didn't want to risk sliding under the wheels of an oncoming SUV piloted by a neurotic Cambridge mommy.

There was less ice but lots of nasty slush and puddles. But also friendly people including a woman who moved some recycling bins out of the way for me. And this morning the man who hands out the free daily paper at the subway station let me know the escalator was going up instead of down and two men held open doors for me simultaneously and this seemed to counterbalance the Anna Nicole and Britney Spears celebrity trashola drama that makes me think Armageddon is upon us.

I need to start choosing The Economist at the gym instead of Life and Style.

No Corners For You

Spent the weekend in Albany with JoyceFrances, her husband, and their swell dog. We went to the Y late on Friday afternoon, where I was gawked at by an elderly African-American man wearing satin shorts, tube socks, a headband, and coke-bottle glasses and where they have an indoor track in a low-ceilinged smelly basement that you have to run around 24 times to go one mile.

Then on Saturday we went to a yarn store in the back of someone's house, to the grand-reopening of an Italian market where I bought meat that I then forgot to take with me when I left, and then that night we went ice-skating at a rink surrounded by all sorts of weird architecture -- there's a giant building that sort of looks like the Chateau Frontenac, a bunch of Chicago-esque skyscrapers, a giant halved concrete egg filled with snow, and a building that looks like a university library but actually has a carousel inside.

Also at the rink they play surf music from the '50s and '60's. Honestly it was pretty much totally awesome due to the surrealness of it and due to the fact that I just really love to ice skate, like really love it -- I find it very meditative and fulfilling, and also due to the fact that JoyceFrances loves to ice skate, too, and we do tricks, and then skate around post-trick with our arms in the air, ta-dahhhh style.

Also I knit a lot, met a really interesting and talented writer/dancer friend of JoyceFrances', ate one delicious meal after another prepared by JF, got a free wide-screen TV, and got hit up for cash by a cracky mccrackaddict.

So you think you had a bad night?

I called Dr. Moo last night to wish her a Happy Valentine's Day and see if I could do a little whinocerousing to her about the nasty sludge I was dealing with.

Turns out her day was much, much worse.

She got over two feet of snow in 24 hours in her neck of the woods. I lived in Vermont for five years; I saw the worst snowstorm of my life there, from a fire escape. It was howling, screaming wind and blowing snow and when I got up in the morning I couldn't open the door because there was too much snow piled up against it.

According to the record books, this one was worse.

So anyhoo, the Moo. Her four wheel drive truck gets stuck in a snowdrift and she cannot get it out. Not after 20 minutes of forward and reverse, not after getting out and trying to shovel. Also she has no cell reception, natch. So she has to basically crawl, dragging her 75 pound hound dog Tess with her, because the snow is too deep for Tess to move in, to a cow barn. She then has to break into the barn.

In the barn there are cows but no telephone and the farmhouse is far enough away from the barn to make it a bit of a haul. Luckily another truck happens by with two men in it, one of whom is a feed store owner/judge. Annie and Tess pile into the truck; Tess sits on her lap. They crawl to Moo's place (commenting to her on how long they've heard her driveway is), all of them (well, save Tess) trying to see the road in front of them through whiteout conditions.

When they get to Dr. Moo's, they basically stop the truck in the middle of the road and let her and Tess, who is shivering from exertion, out.

Of course the driveway is not plowed. So then Moo has to half-drag Tess through the snow for 20 minutes until she finally, finally gets to her apartment. When she gets inside she finds her face is coated in ice and red as a tomato and that snow has blown into the apartment through the air conditioning unit.

Within half an hour Tess was gnawing on a bone and had forgotten the whole thing, but Moo, who likened the experience to Pa Ingalls getting caught in a blizzard, won't anytime soon.

Workhorse

I made one of the fellow party-goers at the surprise shindig I helped throw last night for L's birthday giggle when, upon leaving the party, I pooh-poohed her assistance with helping me carry my many bags by saying "It's OK. My people have been doing this for a long time."

I do definitely have the peasant build -- broad shoulders, sturdy legs capped by birthin' hips -- and it came in handy when I got home tonight, and had to shovel snow that had mixed with pouring rain to create a heavy, frigid sludge.

And now I am tired. Tired and hungry. I have guest(s) coming over at 7 for dinner. It has been a marathon week of socializing for me, a woman who normally likes to follow two nights in a row of being with others with at least one of being alone. I have plans every night this week and may drive to Albany on Friday, which would mean an entire weekend of socializing.

Of course I am grateful to have full life.

No good. I've known too many Spaniards.

Today on the T there was a busker with an amp and a plug-in acoustic-style guitar. He was singing Beatles songs. In a thick Spanish accent. "Hecher, dehr, ahnd everywhere" in a high, pretty voice. I felt like he should have been wearing a giant hat and serenading me. It made me giggle.

Lately the T has not been making me giggle because lately it has been late a lot. But then I remember hey at least I'm not getting blown up, and I'm happy again.

And when I think that tomorrow any snow we get is going to be washed away by horrible pouring rain, like buckets of shit-ass freezing-cold, wind-driven, spit of the Abominable Snowman rain, I think, at least I don't live in upstate New York.

Treat Her Like A Lady

While walking back from the gym today I passed a house whose exterior is being gutted and redone. There was a construction worker in front of it, watching what was happening, and smoking a butt. As I drew closer, I heard the delightful sound of him hocking up a loogie. He turned, saw me, and waited until I had passed to spit that loogie out.

I can sure tell Valentine's Day is coming!

Canteloupe

So some man just totally followed me all the way through Russo's where I went to buy their good, cheap produce as I am entertaining on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday night this week.

I was having one of my dingbat nights. First off, I am really worried there is something wrong with my car. It is making a noise like the sound you make when you whistle through your teeth, or the "ssssssssss" in "ssssssssssssufferin' ssssssssssuccotash." Also I think first gear dropped out a couple of times, g-damnit.

And second sometimes McPolackthedork just takes over. My hair was in a messy ponytail and I was wearing an extra-crazy looking black fleece hat, had turquoise ring on my right index finger, and a cup of coffee in my left hand. When I first grabbed my shopping cart in the parking lot I headed for the out doors. Then when I made it to the in doors, which swing, I couldn't figure out how to maneuver my cart through them using only one hand.

So this gentleman pushed open the door for me. Then I could have sworn that, near the onions, he put some stuff in a bag and then into the cart of this older Asian couple, who thanked him -- but he wasn't Asian. I banged my way through the store, buying this and that (they had amazing Minneolas for a buck fifty a pound) spilling coffee on my sleeve and every so often I would notice him, with his basket, hovering nearby.

Then when I went to check out, as I was finishing, I noticed he was behind me in line. Which, honestly, creeped me out a little bit. Because really, I didn't know anything about the guy. He was, in a word, nondescript. Brown shoes, blue jeans, jacket of undetermined color, five-o'-clock shadow. He could have been foreign. The foreign men really like my juicy ass. But it was hidden behind my jacket tonight, so who knows. I did hightail it to my car and got out of there and then I almost got run over by a bus on my way home.

And because I am a spirituality dork as well...

I have to note the hawk as a spirit guide/totem animal represents clarity of vision, and being able to see the "big picture," your spiritual path. I do think I saw him for a reason.

WOW

I just saw a hawk (some form of goshawk, I think), right outside my living room window, perched in the oak tree in a neighbor's yard that overhangs my barn. He was so beautiful! I am such a nature dork! I sat in awe muttering over what a fantastic bird he was, quietly, and then said "binoculars...binoculars" and reached for them to get a closer look. He puffed up his feathers, did a smidge of preening, and then pooped on the roof of the barn.

And then he flew away.

Knitwits II

First, big news on the knitting front: I finished my first project!!! It's not the scarf I originally mentioned; I tore that one out and am reworking it. It's another scarf, and it's going to be going to a very lucky someone very soon. The other scarf I have promised to McMumsy. But I am also knitting things for the folks who offered to take my first ugly monster so just you wait...today I bought stuff to make socks at the knitting store. Socks are hard! Harder still when you insist on doing them on five tiny bamboo needles because you just like the idea of it. But I shall soldier on. I'm also making a belt.

Anyhoo tonight it was chicken parmesan and chocolate chip cookies with A and her husband and daughter, followed by some stitching and some bitching. We chatted about all sorts of things while A knit a hat and I worked on a couple of things. And now I have gas.

Peace out.

: )

Knitwit

I am starting to really like the knitting thing. Taught myself to purl and did a wee bit of it after cooking dinner with L and my German friend tonight, a tofu and red lentil curry with jasmine rice and salad, and caramel brownies for dessert. There's a yarn store near the transcription office and I keep going in there and looking at stuff, but am holding off on buying until I have a plan for what I will make and for whom.

Not much else to report. Hope everyone is feeling fine!

Big Fake Boobies Bad

Oh ho ho ho, did I ever find Dr. 90210 disturbing tonight. Not that I normally find the show anything but bizarre but for some reason watching a porn actress who couldn't have been more than 25 laying knocked out on an operating table with two big holes where her nipples should have been getting big clear 700 cc implants stuffed in those holes just struck me as sad and fucked up on so many levels.

Again, I realize I'm stating the obvious here but it's just so disgustingly, god-awfully wrong to do that to yourself, to chop every last bit of yourself up and bleed all over the place and then stuff all sorts of synthetics in yourself. It's barbaric and tragic and horrible.

And then even if you don't get plastic surgery you go to the grocery store where you're bombarded with all kinds of food that's bad for you that will make you fat and kill you and as you wait in line to buy those foods there are racks of magazines with pictures of women with bodies that are anorectically thin and whose flaws have been airbrushed.

I'm too tired tonight to do much more than say that I wish the world wasn't like this for women and that I wasn't susceptible to wanting to be all skinny sometimes myself.

Hangin'

Ended up going to the McPolack homestead early Saturday afternoon (thankfully missing the 100-car pileup that had happened on 93 North earlier in the day) to accompany Dr. Moo on a trip to North Conway to purchase ice climbing gear. For my companion services I received a free dinner but I was not allowed to bring my knitting into the store as that was deemed dorky by the Moo.

Anyhoo. Moo mentioned that she thought perhaps I should not have posted earlier about OSB's baby because then all my other friends with babies (and that's a lot of friends) might get mad and think "What about my baby?" Especially the one I babysit for. And I think there's some truth to that so I just wanted to say to them: I love your baby too. And I don't mean that in a snarky way either. Just like all my friends are really nifty and swell in their own unique ways, so are their wee ones.

In other news, Moo and I were standing after 10 o'clock at night at the butcher block counter in the kitchen talking to PolackPappy when Moo picked up the plate of olive oil she had been smearing bread in and licked it clean while I dragged my finger through the crumb-laced cream cheese frosting that had been used to secure a one-layer store-bought carrot cake to its paper bottom and then stuck that finger in my mouth. Mouth full, I looked at Moo, then remarked "I can't believe we're still single!"

And in other other news, at least according to the guy in the UNH sweatshirt who looked like an ex frat-boy behind the counter at the outdoor equipment store in North Conway, North Conway is chock full of lonely men. He said he had 10 single friends ready to go out.

Unfortunately, if we are going on appearances alone, it would have been an evening of Natural Light beer followed by gang rape.

"But it doesn't have to be gang rape!" announced Moo in the car, playing the role of the be-hatted ex frat boy. "That is your choice."