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Category Archives: On Me

Nightmares

100_9550Today on The Daily Post: Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?

Funny you should ask that. I had a nightmare just last week, one that recurs with disturbing frequency, but with no perceivable pattern. In this nightmare, I am always on the ground, although the locations are never the same, and I look up at the sky to see a jumbo jet (sorry, I don’t know my jets well enough to say 747, 767, 777) in obvious distress. Sometimes the plane fights to gain altitude before nose-diving, and sometimes any attempt at recovery has already been abandoned and the jet is headed full speed for its disastrous rendezvous with the earth. The people (if there are any) near me on the ground when I spot the falling plane are almost always strangers and rarely do they show what I would deem an appropriate level of concern about the impending disaster; only once was my husband nearby, and on that occasion I lost him in the confusion. Only sometimes can I hear the plane’s engines as it drops out of the sky, but when I do, it is a fearful screaming noise that haunts me for days afterwards. Almost always, I have to run to escape being struck either by the plane itself or by debris hurled from the epicenter of the impact. Without fail, I wake up before seeing the wreckage; I’ve never witnessed mangled corpses or dazed survivors stumbling from a burning debris field.

In last week’s version of this nightmare, I watched from an unfamiliar porch as a large silver jet with engines howling like banshees cruised over the treetops then struggled valiantly to regain altitude. For a moment, it looked like the pilot was going to be successful, pushing the plane sharply skyward a couple thousand feet, but suddenly there was a large-scale champagne cork-type explosion about where the boarding door of the plane would be. Seconds later, I watched as shimmery silver raindrops hurtled toward earth, growing larger and larger, until I could discern that they were cans of Diet Coke travelling at terminal velocity. As I ran for cover from the shower of deadly missiles, the plane, obviously defeated by the explosion of the beverage cart, reached the crest of its climb and began to free fall. When I awoke, sweating and panting, a number of unsuspecting bystanders had been killed by the savage storm of twelve-ounce aluminum cans, but, as always, I did not know the fate of the passengers or crew of the downed jet.

I am never consciously aware of feeling particularly stressed out when this nightmare rears its ugly head (although I am definitely sapped and on edge for a few days afterward). Online dream interpretation guides suggest that visions of plane crashes, assuming they are not precognitive, signify that I have set unrealistically high goals or expectations for myself, and that I am doomed to crash and burn in my attempts to achieve them. I do have some ambitious goals (and some even more ambitious timelines for reaching them), and I always have high expectations of myself, but I don’t believe they are beyond my capabilities or I wouldn’t set them.  Maybe my subconscious believes otherwise, and is trying to get me to scale back. Then I fear I’d consciously feel like a slacker, and thereby subject myself to whatever nightmare haunts chronic underachievers.

 
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Posted by on February 19, 2013 in On Me

 

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Willpower?

imageTrying and failing to resist temptation

I am supposed to be on a diet to undo the damage sustained after fifteen months of packing away any kind of British comfort food set before me.  However, I am currently in Brugge, smack dab in the land of Belgian fries, Belgian chocolate, and Belgian waffles.  The city of Brugge has both a chocolate museum and a potato museum–if there’s a waffle museum, we haven’t found it yet. Within the 1.66 square miles of the canal-ringed old city center, there are more than 40 dedicated chocolate shops, sometimes three or four in a row on the same side of an ancient cobblestone street.  Thankfully, waffle shops and fry carts aren’t quite as numerous, though they definitely aren’t hard to find.  It’s too bad they were not distributing willpower when we entered the city, because rolling around an intravenous drip of the stuff would have been about the only way to save my diet from the warm waffle with ice cream and dark Belgian chocolate sauce I had late this afternoon, right before my dinner of Flemish beef stew with Belgian fries (the waffle shop closes at 6:00 p.m., so we couldn’t risk eating dinner first then coming back for dessert).  One thing I know for sure: I would have regretted leaving Belgium without experiencing its famous cuisine far more than I’m going to regret the extra miles and extra sit-ups the indulgence will cost me in the gym next week.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2013 in How It Is, On Me, True Life

 

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Rats

Gong Xi Fa Cai (or Gong Hey Fat Choy if you speak Cantonese rather than Mandarin)! Happy Chinese New Year! Today marks the beginning of the Year of the Snake, which has not been a particularly auspicious year in past lunar cycles (2001-September 11 attacks, 1989-Tiananmen Square Massacre, 1977-Elvis died, 1965-Malcom X assassinated, 1941-Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, 1929-stock market crash). I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to take a shower this morning (apparently on the first day of the New Year it washes away good luck), so I’m hoping to recover by wearing bright red and setting out a bowl of oranges. In the meantime, TOMW suggested I consider my animal sign in the Chinese zodiac, and analyze which traits are true for me.

Back in high school, I learned from the paper placemat on the table of the first Chinese  restaurant in which I ever dined that being born in 1972 meant my Chinese zodiac sign was the rat (⼦). This did not please me, especially as my brother was gloating over his tiger sign, given that my only images of rats were as wet, squeaking, ravenous villains scampering through sewer pipes in horror movies or as red eyes and scaly tails darting around laboratory cages in my biology class. I could not see any qualities in common between us, but subsequent study does reveal that I do indeed possess several traits that the Chinese identify with the sign of

Here’s a list of rat characteristics from an online source:

~very charming (I like to think so, but not in a smarmy way)
~gets more done than most (on a good day, when I’m firing on all cylinders, I can be incredibly efficient)
~adapts well in most environments (yep)
~good eye for bargains/discount shopper (I love sales, coupons, and auctions–rarely do I buy at full price)
~intellectual (yes, I believe so–not on par with a rocket scientist, but I can hold my own)
~good at concealing or hiding things (not to be deceitful, and only if it benefits someone close)
~secretive (I can keep a secret, but I don’t think I’m sneaky or conniving if that’s what they’re implying)
~creative (yes, if you count writing and crafty projects)
~talkative (about 95% of the time I’d have to disagree with this one)
~always in “alert mode” (yes, but I get lax when I’m tired)
~analytical (I usually try to look at all angles before choosing the best course of action)
~seeks power (I don’t really seek it, but I don’t run from it, either)
~great debater/gets point across (I try to stand my ground and present my argument logically, but usually think
of something else I should have said after the fact)
~honest (if nothing else in this list is true, I hope this is)
~takes advantage of others/opportunist (I don’t see this in myself, and I hope if others do, they will point it
out when it occurs)
~argumentative (not just for the sake of arguing, but if I firmly believe in something, I will politely and
respectfully defend it)
~materialistic (not in the sense of being greedy…another website suggested that Rats love to surround
themselves with knick-knacks and mementos to create a warm home environment–that sounds about right)
~anxious (sometimes)
~nervous (sometimes)
~very observant (as long as I’m not overly tired)
~quick tempered (not compared to other members of my family!)
~little hotheaded (yeah, okay, I’ll cop to this one on occasion)
~stingy (looking back on our childhood, my brother would probably say, yes, but I hope I’ve outgrown it)
~worrier (yep)
~good advice giver (I do give it, but don’t know how good it is)
~great imagination (until I sit in front of a blank computer screen…)
~resourceful (yes, I take pride in this one…there’s not much I can’t do for myself, and I thank my granddad for
setting that example)
~avoids manual labor (NO…I’d rather not break rocks in the hot sun for a living, but if something needs doing
around the house, I’m all over it)
~loves to travel (yes, I do, and luckily I have a husband with the same love)
~thirst for knowledge (definitely…always reading, listening, watching and storing tidbits of information)
~perfectionist (*sigh* yes, I am…more demanding of myself than others,I hope–one day I’d like to be a
reformed perfectionist)
~difficult to please (I don’t think so)
~good organizational skills (always in my mind, but they don’t always translate into physical results)
~dominant (only if the situation demands it…I think I’m equally willing to be passive)
~aggressive (no, that’s not me)
~does not seek advice from others (not true…I often seek advice from many sources, then analyze the results
to make my own decision–which can look like not taking advice, I guess)
~quick witted (sometimes)
~a doer, not a talker (I strive to be, because it frustrates me when others don’t follow through, but I know I don’t
always achieve this)
~great writing skills (we’re putting ’em to the test this year!)
~likes seclusion or solitude (yes, “me” time is important to maintaining mental balance)
~socially active (not a party animal, but I enjoy quality time spent with friends and family)

I’m in good company as a Rat–Shakespeare, Mozart, and George Washington were all Rats. But, unfortunately, so was Jeffrey Dahmer, so I guess that horror movie image isn’t completely wrong after all.

 
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Posted by on February 10, 2013 in On Me

 

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Caution

100_0807Caution: Road Ends in Six Months

We are almost to the end of the road here in England–this week marked the start of our PCS (Permanent Change of Station) countdown. Well, we can’t actually count anything yet, as we haven’t received our official release date, but we know it’s coming in about six months. At Tuesday’s departure briefing, we were handed a binder full of pre-move to-do lists, which is currently lying next to the sofa, waiting to be divvied up this weekend into his and her responsibilities. The days are flying by, yet I still have a whole list of my own to work through before I am forced back into the “real world” later this summer, and become slave once again to the demands of a full-time job. I’ve got high hopes that with steely determination, careful time management, and creative multi-tasking, I can cross off every item on the PCS checklists, as well as my own, before we set sail for the other side of the pond.

Places to See/Revisit

  • Holland
  • Brugge
  • Northern Wales
  • Iceland
  • Paris
  • Germany
  • London
  • Oxford
  • Cotswold Villages
  • Portsmouth (Mary Rose Museum)
  • Sulgrave Manor
  • Highclere Castle

Things to Do

  • Organize/scrapbook Japan memorabilia
  • Refinish chair
  • Restore lantern
  • Restore shoe last
  • Organize pictures on computer
  • Sort/purge documents on computer
  • Purge emails
  • Take class/renew teaching license
  • Suss out job opportunities in US
  • Polish horse brass collection
  • Lose another 10 pounds
  • Crochet Aran afghan
  • Frame auction pictures
  • Shadowbox antique Monopoly game
  • Purge old magazines
  • Import folder of recipe clippings into computer program
  • Create inventory of household effects

Whew! That’s a lot of stuff to do! Not sure how I’ll fit it all in around the daily routine of work, laundry, house cleaning, cooking, and blogging, but I am determined not to leave England with a backlog of unfinished projects and a load of regret about not making the most of the time I had here. I’m about to buckle down and make the next six months ones I can look back on with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I’ll revisit this post from time to time to cross off completed items…feel free to nag, encourage, bully, and cheer in the weeks ahead!

Last Sunday while I was trolling The One Minute Writer‘s archives for something to spark my imagination, I came across “Six Word Saturdays,” an idea they had picked up from the weekly series over at Show My Face. The idea is to sum up your current situation in just six words, then expand as much or as little as desired.  TOMW hadn’t done a “Six Word Saturday” prompt since July of last year, but I thought that starting today I would adopt it as my own end-of-week tradition–an easy, no-stress way to wrap up the blogging week. Lo and behold, when I clicked over to TOMW this evening, today’s prompt is “Six Word Saturday!” Great minds think alike. 🙂

 
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Posted by on February 9, 2013 in On Me, True Life

 

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Fence-sitting

100_0803-001

This week’s Mind the Gap writing challenge on The Daily Post asks, “How do you prefer to read, with an eReader like a Kindle or Nook, or with an old school paperback in hand?”

I am a complete fence-sitter on this issue—so much so that after fifteen minutes of contemplation and internal struggle, I gave up on clicking either radio button in The Daily Post’s poll on the subject.  If you put a gun to my head and made me choose, I certainly would, but I think it would take the click of the safety being released for me to actually commit.

I am a staunch supporter of reading old-fashioned paper books. Nothing beats going into a bookstore or library and wandering amongst the shelves, pulling down this volume or that, looking at the cover art, pondering the title, reading the dust jacket, and deciding with those three simple actions whether or not you’ll devote a few irretrievable hours of your life to the words contained within. I love the crackle of the dried glue in the spine when I open a book for the first time, and the smell of the ink that wafts so easily from whatever paper they use in today’s mass-produced paperbacks. I like the hardcover library books that have those ruffly, unevenly cut pages, and appreciate them even more if there’s sand stuck under the clear protective cover. If someone cared enough to read that book while relaxing on the beach, it’s surely worth my time as well. At home, a bookcase full of texts, their neatly aligned spines marching along the shelves until they collide with a family photo or personal keepsake, makes an office or living room warm and inviting. If an author’s words make a deep enough impression for me to purchase my own hardcover copy, the book becomes a treasure on those shelves, part of the art and ambience of the room.

However, now that I’ve defended my love of real books, I do have to admit to owning an eReader (well, four if you count the free Kindle apps on my iPad, desktop, and laptop in addition to the actual Kindle). I travel, and with the increasingly unrealistic airline baggage restrictions, the eReader eliminates the need to figure out how to transport a week’s worth of paperbacks and still have enough room to pack a swimsuit and some clean knickers when I go on vacation. I like having multiple books on my Kindle, so if I finish John Campbell’s biography of Margaret Thatcher while I’m waiting at the DMV, I can flip over to the latest novel by Maeve Binchy without skipping a beat. The anonymity of the Kindle is also refreshing…I don’t have to explain to anyone why I’m just now getting around to reading Pride and Prejudice or endure any judgmental glances while I’m working my way through the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. It’s amazing that so many classics are available for free download to eReaders…the benefits of having a library card but without the due dates (two weeks is not long enough to tackle some of those classics, and knowing there’s no pressure to finish a book on someone else’s schedule makes it much more likely that I’ll choose to read it).

I find the Kindle easier to prop up than a chunky hardcover novel when I’m reading in bed, but there’s no way I’m taking my eReader anywhere near the bathtub, one of my top three reading locales. I’d not think twice about leaving a paperback in the car to read whenever I’m waiting to pick up my husband, but possible theft or baking/freezing of the electronics would dissuade me from keeping an eReader in the glove box. A good storyteller can leave me sobbing—tears are absorbed (almost) harmlessly into the pages of a paperback, but what does a salty torrent do to the inner workings of an eReader?

Deep down, I harbor a secret longing to one day own a used-book store—a place with big comfy chairs, maybe some cakes and coffee—where people can bring the books that didn’t rate high enough to grace the shelves of their personal libraries and trade them in for someone else’s cast-offs, in hopes that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. I feel I’d be killing my own dream before it has a chance to come to fruition if I come down squarely on the eReader side of the fence. I can’t throw my full support behind traditional books, either; as an aspiring writer, I believe eReaders have increased my odds of eventually getting a work in front of a reader’s eyes compared to when traditional kill-a-tree publishing houses were the only option. Now, even if I am rejected by any number of reputable agents, I can still self-publish electronically (and comparatively cheaply) in the hopes of attracting an audience from the public who troll Amazon’s Kindle Store looking for free or almost-free novels by unknown (temporarily!!) authors. Going that route, I may never achieve the fame and fortune of J.K. Rowling, but there’s a certain satisfaction knowing my words could be scrolling across the screen of some faceless commuter’s Nook as the 6:45 train rumbles toward his downtown office.

My eReader is convenient and I’d hate to give it up; traditional books are my first love, to have and to hold till death do us part. I have different, but not totally unrelated, dreams for my future that count on both paper books and electronic books being widely desired and available. I am hoping that by reading an equal number of books in both formats now, both industries will see demand for their products and I won’t contribute to the demise of either. Bottom line is I love words, and will pick up a book in whatever format I can, so I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t force me to get off the fence.

 
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Posted by on February 7, 2013 in On Me, True Life

 

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Abundance

100_1122I am my mama’s daughter in that neither of us knows how to make just a little bit of soup. The problem is we don’t really follow recipes when we make soup, so it’s a matter of adding some of this to a little bit of that, and oh, look, that would be nice in there, then adjusting the amount of liquid till it all looks right.

Growing up, my brother and I were in charge of doing dishes, and soup making days meant we’d better roll up our sleeves and settle in, because we were gonna be there awhile. Whenever Mom made soup, there were always two, sometimes three, huge pots to be washed, in addition to whatever utensils, cutting boards, and measuring cups she’d used in the process. She would start out with her ingredients in a large Dutch oven, but before she’d gotten all the vegetables added to the stock, she’d realize she needed more room and dig out her humongous soup pot—the one that hung off the edges of the electric coil of the stovetop and was so tall you’d scrape your knuckles on the bottom of the microwave trying to lift the lid. Occasionally even that would runneth over, and she’d have to transfer a few servings to her biggest saucepan (or on a really generous day, back to the Dutch oven) in order to have room to stir.

I try to save myself a few steps (and a lot of pot-washing) and start in my biggest pot, but by doing so, leave myself few options when the volume of soup exceeds the capacity of the vat. I usually end up with a concoction that is too heavy on the “good stuff” and way too light on liquid. I once served a bowl of chicken soup to a guest and by the time she crumbled half a dozen saltines over the top, every bit of the broth had been absorbed; she wouldn’t have missed a drop if I’d given her a fork rather than a spoon.

This heavy-handedness does have its benefits. For a couple hours’ work in the afternoon, Jim and I have tonight’s dinner, lunch a couple times during the week, three dinner-for-two-plus-the-next-day’s-lunch size buckets to put in the freezer, AND a two-quart container to share with a friend. All that’s left is to fire up the griddle to make some grilled cheese sandwiches…

 
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Posted by on February 5, 2013 in Cooking, Food, On Me, True Life