Failure

After I thought that I had conquered my battle with yeast I seem to have merely replaced with a battle with starter. I have just produced a “loaf” that is not only flat but stuck to the pizza stone. So I tweak again next week and return to a tested recipe for our bread this week…and maybe not believe everything I read on the Internet.

Drinks, dinner, and hockey

My hands smell of the thyme I just touched. Steve has flatly refused all help with dinner (other than the occasional direction to a pantry item or recipe clarification), so in a strange twist I sit watching the hockey game while he slices and dices. And the strange twist in that statement is that I have developed a profound enjoyment of this sport. It helps, I think, that we have a good team to root for (they’re from the South Bay and are named after the sea predators with very distinctive theme music). So here I sit with my Canadian cider watching a Canadian sport and write this mostly to fight the urge to jump up and help. He picked mac and cheese – and not the kind that involves a blue box. He’s sauteeing onions and making a roux and a five cheese sauce. Depending on his confidence there may be bacon involved (for him only, of course).
After midnight Saturday he will almost certainly be on strike and we begin an indeterminate waiting period. No plans, no trips until it’s over. I worry about this. I will be back to full salary just in time but for how long? He assures me the strike won’t last forever – and being the amazing person he is has enough socked away to cover expenses for quite a while but I’m tired of feeling like a financial burden and want to help.
It appears that the constant worry that has plagued me all winter will not disipate with the coming of spring. It seems that the old adage proves true- what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I’m sure I would have eventually tumbled to the realization of how extraordinary a person he is, but I wonder if finding myself in financial and emotional need helped catalyze and cement our love. I have found the guy who genuinely wants to sweep me off my feet and his sole motive in doing so is making me happy. Because of him I’m almost a bit grateful for the insomnia and loopy stomach that has become a constant. Because now when I wake up in the middle of the night and lie there with all my worries running through my brain, he reaches over and pulls me close, quieting my demons.

The return of the silent one

So this is a test while I wait for my honey to return with the drinks. I haven’t tried this ap yet, though it was one of the first things I downloaded when I became the proud owner of this magnificent phone.
So what’s up? Loads. I am officially smitten – he even comes to dance class. We are cohabitating and I’mmedting his parents this weekend. The cats are shedding, furloughs are ending, for now, and I am exhibiting all the symptoms of extreme job stress (insomnia, over eating, lashing out at others). I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands – I am now determined to marry and spend the rest of my life with this man and don’t want to drop dead of a heart attack two days after the wedding. So I am taking 3 10 minute walks every work day (another reason to love this phone-I can have my iPod, timer, and pedometer running simultaneously on the same device), and we’ve developed a bedtime routine – reading to each other and relaxing music. I am sleeping better and calmer at work.

Lucky, Lucky Me

OK, yes, I am once again going to bore you with the sweetness that is Steve.   I think, however, that many of the women out there will agree with me that this is just too gosh darn sweet to NOT share.

Yesterday, being payroll day, was, as usual, a very stressful day.  Steve and I  made plans for dinner at his place after work (and he suggested that I could try out the whole soaking in the tub thing that I had been dying to do).  So, after going home to set the cats up for the evening, I grabbed my overnight bag and headed out.  Within twenty minutes I was pulling into the garage and was met by my darling at the door.  He was starting dinner (veggie tacos and Spanish rice – yum!), and had his laptop set up to refer to the recipe he had pulled up on line.  After setting my stuff down he turned to me and suggested that I follow him upstairs.  In his second bathroom was a bouquet of Gerber daisies, an iced bottle of my favorite wine (with a glass), strawberries and whipped cream and chocolate sauce, a waiting iPod dock, a towel, and my robe.  “Your bath awaits.  I just need to know when you want to eat so I know when to start dinner.”

So, I got a lovely, relaxing, bubble bath followed by a tasty dinner and I didn’t have to lift a finger.

And I officially nominate Steve the sweetest guy, ever!

Gushing Praise

This is a long overdue post.  I’m home sick with the stomach flu and decided that there’s no time like the present.  This is going to be a very sappy post, so those who are diametrically opposed to such posts will want to bypass this.

I have found an AMAZING guy, so I’m dedicating this post to list off all the amazingly sweet things he’s done.

1. He opens doors for me (including car doors).
2. He lets me ramble on with my geeky/nerdy thoughts (like launching into a story about Holst’s Planets after seeing a commercial that used Mars as the background).
3. He always makes me feel special.
4. He sat through Fiddler on the Roof.  And didn’t complain.
5. He asked to come see me dance.
6. He volunatarily came to dance class.
7. He makes me dinner.
8. He takes me out to dinner.
9. He brings me flowers.
10. He plans romantic weekends with me…and makes them happen.
11. He got my bizarre Starbucks order (triple tall soy caramel macchiato) right on the first try.
12.  He let’s me read the techno ads first when we’re sharing the Sunday paper.
13.  He brings me fruit cups for Sunday breakfast.
14. He helped me record a flute solo to send to my grandfather (using my new flute), which required downloading and figuring out some software, and then used his email account to send it when it exceeded the memory requirements on mine.
15. He had a toothbrush for me.
16. He gave me free usage of his lovely bathtub.
17. He bought an iPod dock so that I can listen to my iPod while I soak.
18. He moved the second half of his couch in so that the cushions would stop sliding out from under me (thus making me more comfortable).
19.  He did not get annoyed when the above mentioned cushion sliding resulted in knocking over and shattering my water glass.  And a 10 minute broken glass clean up operation.
20. He rearranged his garage so that I can park in it.
21. He gave me a key and a garage door opener.
22. He offered his bonus room as a practice studio.
23. He watches The Food Network with me.
24. He records programs that he thinks I’d like.
25. When my car’s flat got repaired with a non-guaranteed repair (because it was a side-wall puncture) he offered to pick me up and drive me to work if the repair didn’t hold overnight.
26. He writes me love notes.
27.  He’s willing to stop movies and pick them up at another time if they get too long for me.
28. He uncomplainingly works with my insane schedule (since we started dating, I have had something on every weekend that we’ve had to schedule around.)
29. He texts me good night kisses.
30. He takes my movie recommendations for his Netflix queue.
31. He accepts my neuroticism.
32. He wanted to keep the two loaves of banana bread I made (I suggested sharing with friends and family).
33. He likes my bourbon balls.
34.  He’s willing to try my vegetarian cooking (and compliments it).
35.  He doesn’t get annoyed with my three million questions about football; in fact, he answers them.
36. He’s teaching me pool and doesn’t get frustrated with my lack of skill.
37.  He likes cuddling.
38.  Yesterday, we were supposed to eat dinner with his family (this was the “big introduction”).  I walked into their house and almost immediately started throwing up.  I tried to grin and bear it and not let anyone (including him) know that I felt so bad, gracefully excusing myself to the bathroom, but when I realized I couldn’t make it through dinner and told him what was happening, he immediately gave his apologies and took me back to his place (where, again, I walked in the door and went straight to the bathroom). 
39.  He let me curl up on his couch until I felt well enough to go home.
40. He texts me to check up on how I’m feeling.
41. He tells me I’m smart AND pretty.
42. He sits and talks with me.

I’m sure there are easily 42 million other reasons, but I think I’ll save those for another time.

Dancing vs. Dating

Over the past week, I’ve been contemplating my interaction (or lack of) with the opposite sex.  For years, my only method was on the dance floor.  I am comfortable with this; I can flirt, be charming, joke to my heart’s content.  I can confidently look them in the eye without the twinge of anxiety that I normally feel when making eye contact.  Through the dance, I am given a manual of what to do.  Take his hand now, turn under his arm here, advance towards him there.

I have recently started dating again and am longing for the same feeling of comfort…or at least some choreography.  I’m totally lost.  I feel like I’m perpetually stuck in a nasty exercise we teachers sometimes give our students: give only half the dancers the dance and make them get their partners through it without words.  I have not been given the intructions and I’m trying to desperatly to figure out where I’m supposed to go and what I’m supposed to do.  My greatest fear in all of this is that the poor sap will get so frustrated with my inability to follow his lead that he will give up.  Or, that I get so worried that he will get frustrated with me that I move faster than my comfort level (I already have a history with this).

To be fair, there has been no indication that he’s unwilling to follow MY lead, to work within my comfort zone,  but my limited past experience tells me that this lasts only so long.  And, let’s face it-I’m a coward.  It takes a very long time for me to work up the nerve to be the initiator whether it be hand holding or a a kiss.  Part of this is because somewhere it was ingrained in me that the woman shouldn’t make the first move.  I absolutely realize this is ridiculous and can be dangerous, but try as I might I cannot shake this conviction.

So, after a week of analyzing and perhaps realizing the steps I missed, tonight I step back onto the floor for another chance to trip the light fantastic and,maybe, to repair the steps I botched.

My Life as a List

Since my last regular posting period a LOT has happened.  Here is a brief summary…

I have officially been diagnosed with PCOS
I have gone to and returned from Franklin, MA where I attended a family reunion (and realized I really don’t know any of these people).
My grandfather’s health degraded, but has stabilized over the week.
1/2 of the office staff has quit.  Currently I’m covering 3 desks.
Put most of my CD collection on my iPod
Tomorrow, I am going on my first date in 7 years.
Imp has developed bladder crystals.

Here’s what I haven’t done (besides post):

Practice
Organized the spare bedroom
Tackled the spiderwebs
Finished The Memoirs of Cleopatra
Reorganized my kitchen

The Other Shoe

I am a great believer in cosmic equilibrium.  If something bad happens, there is something good around the corner to balance the badness.  Of course the reverse is true, as well.  I don’t know if I bring this on myself or if there really is some sort of force out there with a very demented sense of irony.  At the moment, I don’t really care; I’m currently stuck in an emotional vortex and I must ride it out until the end result.

In May, my grandfather generously decided to purchase a new flute for me.  I was totally blown away by this, but in the midst of my joy there was a nagging voice in the back of my head, “What will be the counterbalance? What big bad is out there waiting?”

Yesterday it reared its head.  The ultimate irony.  My grandfather’s health is fading; he has grown suddenly weak, relying on a wheelchair.  This morning my uncle found him on his knees where he had fallen, unable to rise.

And the flute? It is still at the Boston manufacturer.  It is finished; it is shipping today or tomorrow.  It should arrive in Arizona within the next couple of weeks.  The question that surrounds my waking day is, “Will it arrive in time?” I desperately want to play it for him, to show him how much his gift means to me, to prove that I am worthy of it.   I want him to know that his gift is not superfluous.  But I must continue to wait, to worry, to wonder, to weep.  And mostly, to scream at the complete and utter feeling of helplessness that has enveloped me.

I’ll be back

…soon.  I promise.  I’m just overwhelmed with life right now!

Amazing!

As I was returning from a last-minute-replacement gig I had this weekend, it occurred to me that the last two months have been fairly record-breaking with regards to earning money with my flute.

I normally don’t get paid when I play.  This spring and summer, though, I’ve managed to get invited to play for enough paying gigs that I have more than paid for my plane tickets for my August trip to Boston with music.

I think that’s pretty cool.