Requested Reading List

December 7, 2010 at 10:05 AM (Help, Real Life) (, , , , )

I’m afraid I’m going to fail to fulfill a promise I made a few years ago. When my second son was born, one day the cat came to me and said (I’m paraphrasing), “Why do you keep bringing these men into the house? When will we ever have the chance to be alone together in the sunshine with all these boys around, and their hammering, running, zooming, and eating?” I told her, “Elly, one day you and I will have a girl room, with a chintz-covered chaise longue, late-afternoon sunshine, a mohair-y throw blanket, a pot of tea, and a stack of great books. We’ll spend weekends in there, dozing and reading. I promise.”

Well, the Girl Room hasn’t materialized yet, and unless they’re planning a big Christmas surprise for me, it probably won’t happen. But I can still lie around with a stack of books like it’s my job, and for this Cinderelly is truly grateful.

What I’m having trouble with is: what should I read? When I hit the bookstore, I look for interesting covers or for books I’ve heard mentioned by other people. Sometimes I hit; sometimes I miss. Whenever I go to the library, I wander around aimlessly, looking at covers and pulling out books I haven’t read by authors I already know. But I’m sure there are people (other than librarians and critics) who know exactly what is good, or a classic must-read, or not-just-chick-lit-but-good-chick-lit. Are they you?

If you had a year and wanted to make sure you read all the important stuff, including classics and contemporary literature (although maybe not so much poetry; sorry, Amy), what would you read? Tell me, tell me — there’s still time to put together an Amazon list…

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Erosion

May 12, 2010 at 12:09 PM (Energy, Mood, Sleep) (, , , , , , , )

Some days I feel like a regular person. Aside from my daily nap, I run errands, walk the dog, cook dinner, sort the junk mail, fold the laundry. Except for my goofy haircut, you’d never know I am sick.

Today is not one of those days. I’m completely drained. I’m not sure if it’s the allergies (Massachusetts is covered in green pollen) or what, but in my Pilates class yesterday I had trouble completing any of the exercises (that usually make me sweat, but not collapse). It was as if someone was squeezing handfuls of the bottoms of both my lungs. We had a dozen errands to run in the afternoon, and by the time I’d dropped #1 Son off at soccer practice, I could hardly bring myself to heave my body out of the car and climb the stairs.

This morning seems to be little better. At the gym, I had to dumb-down my not-so-strenuous treadmill workout, and still hopped off every five minutes for a water break. At the park, I felt so fatigued I wondered if I’d make it back to the car. Even the dog seemed to know not to make me work too hard, and behaved himself.

At the risk of sounding like Pitiful Pearl, I’m flat. My feet are killing me. My sinuses feel like there’s been a knife fight. And I’m noticing that despite my ability to stand up to the flood of finite treatments and surgeries and to keep on truckin’ in the battle of Me vs. Ovarian Cancer, I’m wearing away, little by little, in the face of a slow trickle of endless chemo and side effects. Is it the Cytoxan? Is it the tumors? My lungs feel funny – is it the metastases? I can’t say, at least not until my next scan (5/19). But it’s getting harder to pretend I can do it all in the four hours a day I seem to be able to stay out of bed.

Gee, I might have to add a morning nap. That’d be terrible.

Photo courtesy http://www.reallynatural.com


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Don’t Come For The Housekeeping

May 9, 2010 at 8:15 PM (after chemo, Energy, Family, friends) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

I love entertaining. I don’t know whether I inherited it from my mother, who also loves throwing a good party, or whether it just gives me the excuse to wear frivolous shoes in the dead of winter when I don’t have to leave my own house, but I love hosting guests. I adore planning the menu, shopping for ingredients, and cooking for an audience that’s usually more appreciative than my kids (although Mr. Wonderful adores all my food, the young’uns aren’t quite as culinarily adventurous yet).

It’s been really hard, as I’ve gotten sick/well/sick/well over the past few years, to have to pass off hosting duties to other people. I’ve been lucky enough that some of my mother’s visits have coincided with social events at my house, in which case I’ve relied, in varying degrees, on her shopping, cleaning, and cooking assistance. But for the most part, I’ve had to let numerous gathering opportunities slip by. I just didn’t have the stamina for prepping the house, kitchen, table, bar, appetizers, etc., to be guest-worthy. And I wasn’t willing to let my standards drop.

We had a big New Year’s Day Open House this year, a big drop-by-whenever food-and-drink extravaganza that strikes me as the best kind of party for the current commitment-phobic party-goer. It was amazing, with lots of friends from different walks of our lives, hordes of kids, plenty of delicious food and Champers all afternoon. But the set-up took a few days, with the cleaning and all, and clean-up (thanks in no small part to Mr. W again) a couple days afterwards. I just don’t have the endurance to throw big-time shindigs as often as I want.

This weekend, we had some friends and their kids over for dinner on Saturday night. They’re good friends, our kids are all great buddies, and I know they’re casual folks. And although I ran the vacuum before they came, and made the little ones put away their stuff (aren’t parties great for clean-up impetus?), I stopped caring about the dust bunnies under the couch, or the piles of stuff on “my” end table. I was content to serve dinner on paper plates, and the condiments (salsa, sour cream) out of their containers with spoons. I think I might have gotten over the mortal fear that I would be judged on not decanting everything into little serving bowls, and accepted the fact that not using every dish in the house is, in fact, a worthwhile excuse for wrapping the tortillas in foil.

I can either expend my somewhat limited daily ration of energy preparing a delicious meal for my friends, or I can waste it worrying that anyone will notice that, behind the closed shower door, it’s maybe been a couple of days weeks longer than White House standards probably dictate since I’ve scrubbed the tub. And that’s just ridiculous, seeing as how I have a much better time hosting a party than cleaning my porcelain.

So the next time you come for dinner/brunch/a cookout at my house, you should be honored to have been asked. It means that not only do I love you enough to want to cook for you, but I trust you and the depth of our friendship enough to realize that you don’t love me for my table-setting prowess, and you’ll be my friend with or without the cobwebs across the recessed lights. Bon appétit!

Photo courtesy bonappétit.com

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Kids Say the Darndest Things, Vol. I

February 9, 2010 at 4:11 PM (Energy, Family, kids, Sleep, Uncategorized) (, , )

I was heading off for my daily kip when I realized that I had put the blanket and comforter from my bed into the wash, and they weren’t finished yet. Never one to let a minor inconvenience come between me and forty winks, I stopped by the playroom to ask my five-year-old if he would mind if Mommy borrowed his comforter to wrap up in for her Quiet Time.

He looked up at me with his big brown eyes, and in the sweetest, most concerned voice, asked, “Will it get cancer on it?”

You can’t make this stuff up.

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