The Sandwich Life

Sweet Silly Serious Girl

Owen continues to mine our garage. I am embarrassed to admit that some of these boxes have been sitting there since we MOVED here in 1998. Wellll....the last 18 years have been busy, what can I say.... Yesterday's find was a box marked Cynthia that was full of all my day calendars from 1980-1984, as well as random newspaper clipping sent to me from my mother and grandmother, copies of The Magazine Antiques, copies of Maine Antique Digest and Ohio Antique Review and odds and ends such as a Bohemia poster and a David Lee Roth poster...oh and various postcards and letters. I sat and paged through the 1980 calendar and shook my head in....I don't know....fondness for that girl I guess.

Here are the events I marked in my calendar. I know there were plenty of other things I went to but this is what made the calendar, apart from school related notes.

Friday, August 22 Vertebrats (I think this was a street dance)

Saturday, August 23 Vertebrats Mabel's

Thursday, September 4 Kinks Assembly Hall

Thursday, September 11 Pretenders Foellinger

Friday, September 12 The Student Prince Krannert Center

Thursday, September 25 Chicago Symphony Orchestra Krannert Center

Saturday, September 27 Krannert Art Museum opening and Pete’s party

Friday, October 10 Beverly Blossom Krannert Center

Thursday, October 16 Vertebrats

Sunday, October 19 Pavarotti Krannert Center

Thursday, October 30 The Bar (New Wave Night no doubt)

Friday, October 31 Vertebrats Mabel's

Tuesday, November 4 Ultravox with Vertebrats Mabel's

Wednesday, November 5 Van Halen Assembly Hall

Friday, November 14 Vertebrats Mabel's

Sunday, November 23 Vertebrats Mabel's

Friday, December 5 Vertebrats

December 14 John Lennon memorial

Tuesday, December 16 Bus Boys

 There you have it, my first semester at college. And here I am today. Ha!

 

 

Sweet, silly, serious girl. I remember when I became friends with Boo a few years later, she told me she always thought of me as "that flighty girl from Record Service." I miss that girl, and this one too.

this picture is from 1981 I think, on the porch of the little house on Springfield where David Conroyd and Ernie (and eventually me) lived

Vertebrats Posters Motherlode

I've had a pisspoor weekend, albeit for a lovely dinner with friends last night. Back home after that.....shit returns. Woke up this morning? Still shitty. And the liquid the chicken on the stove is simmering in is cooking down way too fast and it's making me furious.

HowEVER.

The other day Owen unearthed the motherlode of Vertebrats posters from the depths of the garage. I thought they'd they'd been lost as I had looked long and hard in the past and only found two. Here they are in all their glory. Many years ago they formed a border along the top of my dorm room walls. Now, well now they just make me happy.

It's still not going down as one of my favorite weekends but it's looking a lot better.

Thanks boys.

Flow Blue and That Other Place

I woke up with that vague sense that something was wrong. Then I remembered I'm pissed at one of my children and therefore pissed at myself.

Sigh.

I remember years ago, one summer in Maine, hauling deadweight screaming toddler Owen away from the midway at Old Orchard Beach, getting pitying looks from other parents and fighting back tears. We hauled him to the car and let him scream and I sat and cried. My sister Debbie was with us, and she finally delicately asked, "Uh....why are you so upset baby sister?" It makes me laugh a bit now to think about it, but it made me realize that one of the worst things about your kids acting up is how mad you get at yourself. I don't think I'd even acknowledged that feeling until I thought about her words later. Now in hindsight Owen was just being a typical overtired toddler that didn't want to leave, but I swear to God....carrying him through those crowds as he screamed made me just want to weep that I was a failure as a parent.

Now I know I am no better or worse than most parents but that guilt still crops up at times. When the kids fuck up, and even though now I know they are separate beings with their own strengths and their own faults, I still feel that awful sense that I have failed them, I have not prepared them as I should have. I also know that's a bit overwrought and in the light of day I can shrug my shoulders and say that everyone has to make mistakes.....but when it's not the light of day I can't help but sink into that other place.

Said child is upstairs, in theory working hard on school work. I sit here still a bit grumpy and out of sorts. 

I took some pictures of my recent purchase and it makes me feel a bit better. Whenever I get a piece that has one of those old red and white tags on it utterly delights me. And this is ALL Diana Eyre's fault because she went and admired the plate my bagel was on in a picture the other day. So I thought to myself that yes, I really DO love that plate. Not even sure where it came from....whether it was my folks' or Judi's.... Now I have three pieces Diana, and you know what that means....

Onward. 

 

The World Is Drunk

Good God everything is mad. I'm struggling with how much you let a child fail. Can they learn that way? WILL they learn that way? Am I burying my head in the sand or am I trying not to be a helicopter parent?

Annie the cat is becoming crazier and keeps peeing outside the litter box.

And Chris Christie endorsed Donald Trump?

What the fuck?

The world is drunk. 

And when I looked at this building this afternoon, all I could think was, "Did it jump, or was it pushed?"

And now I realize that I have become Ernie because I am talking in song lyrics.

 

 

 

 

Missing Staircases and Spicy Chicken

February moves along.

Today would have been Judi's birthday and it's also the day of my mother's funeral some six years ago. Wow...so long ago. My dreams have been vivid. For the last few weeks I've had a recurring dream of a huge, beautiful old three story house. We live on the first floor but I go up to the abandoned second floor often, trying to turn one of the rooms into my own space but it never seems to work. The furniture is too big or just won't fit. The house has a big square courtyard ringed with stairs. Sometimes I try to get up to the third floor where my sisters and I used to have rooms. Part of the stairway to the third floor is missing though so I can't get there. Last night Judi was there with me but we still couldn't get to the third floor. Then I dreamed my colleague got test results and she had capsicum cells throughout her body and her brain, and it turns out the capsicum cells weren't peppers but were actually cancer cells. I assured her she was o.k., that it was just like what Ernie had. When I woke up I felt grumpy and out of sorts, but then I kind of laughed at my busy little brain.

We had a good chicken and pancake night last night though and that helps too. I marinated the chicken thighs in Vietnamese chili-garlic sauce plus a bit of cayenne and salt and pepper for a few hours. Then I cut them into thirds and rolled them in seasoned cornstarch and shallow fried them. Leo, of course, was in charge of the pancakes. Owen set the table and supervised.

Despite it's surprises, and its missing staircases, life is good.

 

 

Random Notes from the Sandwich Life

1. "It's 10:00 on Sunday night and  you just thought to mention that you need glue to finish a project?" I googled DIY glue for awhile before I convinced him to use tape.

2. Ernie's late night fun: red wine and 45s

3. How old ARE we that we got a free Reader's Digest in the mail?

4. Last night sitting in the living room: pouring down from upstairs is the sound of Leo's deep laugh occasionally as he computers with online friends and the pounding bass and cooing of Miss You by the Stones (Owen's room of course). Life is good.

5. Ernie took me out to Fries and Peanuts for a drink after work last night. Lately I have been staying home all weekend which feels perfect, but then on Monday I get itchy and think maybe I need to get out of the house. We settled in to our spot and I commented that I thought they usually did the radio thing in the other room on Mondays. He pointed out to me that it WAS Monday. Huh, not sure if that's good or not.

6. My sweet Leo got recognition on the National German Exam. I was very proud of him, and the best part was that he was pleased as well. I'm also surprised because I was wretched at learning a foreign language, to my regret, and I thought Leo might take after me. No, my sweet baby surprises me once again.

Leo entertains us every bit as much as Owen does but I don't write about him here as much. He prefers it that way and the way he amuses us is quieter and more internal. Never doubt that he isn't as huge a part of our family dynamic though, even if he doesn't show up as much here. He is my beloved Big Head. He hates it when I call him that but hell, I gave birth to him and that head was off the charts...

7. Last night: Pretty little lights of town.

  

 

Different Kinds of Families, Different Kinds of Memories

"In the end, you're my sister," Edith says. "And one day, only we will remember Sybil, or Mama, or Papa, or Matthew, or Michael, or Granny, or Carson, or any of the others who have peopled our youth. Until at last, our shared memories will mean more than our mutual dislike."

I could have watched Downton Abbey all night last night, as is usually the case when I watch it. The moment that got me though was that statement from Edith. It spoke so clearly to my heart and to my experience that the loss of a sibling isn't just the loss of that person, it's the loss of all your shared memories. Ernie looked over at me and said, "WHAT? Are you CRYING?" I sniffed, and assured him I was fine, and indeed I was, but it was such a clear statement of loss and memories and family that it has really stayed with me.

I think it's the same thing that brings closeness to people that you knew only tangentially 30 years ago, but with whom you now feel a kinship. As I've watched, just via facebook, John Isberg digging into the music scene of CU in the 80's and  90's and all the responses it has brought forth, I've thought about that. In some cases, the connections I feel now with some of those folks are far closer than they were to begin with, but as fewer people remember and reminisce about that period, those of us that have those shared memories feel a stronger and stronger bond....because it's all really just a different kind of family.

 

Sons and Daughters and Books

I've never been sorry I had sons instead of daughters. I was shocked, I will admit, to learn that we were having a boy. It had really never occurred to me that my body could create a boy. I know that sounds ridiculous, but wouldn't it make more sense if like created like? Women could create girls and men could create boys? Anyway, after I got over the shock I have never looked back and have often thought I was definitely meant to have boys. Sure, every so often, looking at a particularly sweet little girls' dress I will think 'awwww', but I have no regrets. One small tiny thing that makes me wistful though, is that I couldn't pass on my childhood love of books such as the Little House on the Prairie books, or Anne of Green Gables. Now I'm sure there are some boys that have read them and liked them but just the same...well, not my boys.

My guys both read a fair amount but I don't think they bury themselves in fiction the way I did. Of course, it's also a completely different world so it's a bit of apples and oranges, but just the same, I think you know what I mean. Recently however, Owen told his father that he'd been reading some Ray Bradbury stories online and loving them, so the next time they were out and about, they stopped at Barnes and Noble and Ernie bought Owen a big thick book full of Bradbury stories. It just made me so happy, that he was loving reading. And it made me think how pleased my folks would be.

The other day he came home from school and held the book up in the air, saying, "These stories are SO great! I read 100 pages in school today!" I said, "oh, that's wonderful sweet pea," and then cautiously asked, "uh, where you supposed to be reading it for your class?" And he cheerily responded, "Oh no, it was math and social studies, but these stories are GREAT!"

I just love that boy so damned much.

I had already recounted to him the story of being a junior in high school, in history class, reading away one day from my novel tucked inside my history book. Evidently the teacher called on me, I was totally oblivious and didn't respond, so she just went on and called on someone else. Somebody protested, asking why I didn't get in trouble and she replied that when she was young a teacher had told her she read too much and she was never going to say that to anyone. I didn't even know until someone told me after class.

So it somehow felt full circle and all I could do was laugh....and tell him that he probably should be doing math and social studies during match and social studies....but that I was so happy he loved his book.

My sweet pea.

 

A Nice Day

I love that Tommy Womack song, A Nice Day. There's something about it that always wants to make me cry, but not necessarily sadly. It came to mind because yesterday was, indeed, a nice day. An almost perfect day in some ways. The skies were so blue and the air so warm that I know we weren't alone in succumbing to a bit of spring fever. Ernie and I went outside and started cleaning up some of the garden beds---the things we were supposed to do last fall. Then I summoned the boys out, easier said than done, but got them out eventually. They raked and burned some of the brush and then we just ended up sitting in the yard for hours. Ernie and Owen ran to the store and fixed the wheelbarrow which has been sidelined for mmmm, a good several years now. Leo and I chatted and looked at old pictures of our house when it was yellow and teal. Owen wants it back to those colors, Leo and I say no. Regardless of color we need to paint one of these days. I pondered what I want to plant this year and we all, even Leo, just drank up the sun and the breeze.

As the afternoon wound down Leo and I went inside to our computers and Owen and Ernie went and did some cleaning in the garage. Eventually they came in too and we sat and laughed together. In talking about dinner Ernie mentioned skewered chicken and Owen screeched "SKEWER? I don't even KNOW her!" and we just laughed helplessly. It's all in the timing and that boy has it.

I tried to convince Owen to help me cook dinner, but somehow it evolved into Ernie and Owen cooking and I would serve. Owen found this hilarious because generally I cook and make them serve. I thought it was a great plan so curled up in the living room and read while they cooked. We tried Blue Apron for the first time this week, and based on two meals anyway, we LOVE it. I'd never actually been that intrigued by it (it's meal delivery service) but my boss has been doing it and she has loved it and she's a hardcore food person and after talking about it with her I decided to give it a try. It's not cheap and yet when I sat down and really thought about our grocery bills and how much food we waste it ended up making sense. The one thing about it that made me cringe a bit was the environmental aspect of getting your meal shipped. I sat down, and in my own obsessive way, read up about the company and read a number of reviews. I came to feel that the issue isn't as big a barrier as I though...between their commitment to recycling, using family farms, using less packing early on in the process.....enough to make me willing to try it for a bit. We are doing the family plan, for 4, twice a week. It comes out to $8.74 per serving. That's more expensive than most meals I make, but not all, and certainly is far cheaper that you could ever get in a restaurant for that quality. And there's no waste....I throw out leftovers or dessicated vegetables far too often, and if you really factor that all in, it comes out to be quite reasonable. The meals for two are $9.99 each and you get three meals a week. The family plan is either two or four times a week. Four would be too often for me, but two works out nicely. You can also start and stop and skip weeks whenever you want. With our two meals a week we get a choice of four options (according to what we check off---meat, shellfish, vegetarian, etc.).

Look what a disaster our kitchen is. Please tell me that your kitchens look like this sometimes too.

With all of one week under our belt we are kind of tickled with it. We shall see. It's really smartly done and packaged with clear directions, and the quality of the ingredients was fantastic. The first night Ernie and I made pork and ricotta meatballs with broccolini over polenta. It was amazingly good and we had a LOT left over. Last night Ernie and Owen made za'atar chicken skewers with mint yogurt sauce with roasted broccoli and pearled couscous with apricots and almonds. What intrigues me is the fact that Owen said he kind of liked the couscous and didn't mind the yogurt. Now, if I-I-I-I had planned that meal....I can assure that would not have been the response. With this meal we ate all the chicken because Ernie and Owen are chicken fiends but we had couscous left over. I love cooking, but not necessarily every night, and the choosing of what to make and getting ingredients is by far the hardest part, so having two days a week where it's just there....very nice. Oh, and you can get two free servings with your first order, just fyi. I sound like a commercial, don't I? We shall see how it goes. A little bit of reading and lazy tv watching (still binge watching all the Top Chef Masters episodes) and the last of a very good batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies. 

So a nice day. A nice day.

  

They Grow Up So Fast

Look at our little mulch pile. She's almost a year old now.

They grow up so fast.

I wonder when she'll be old enough to actually mulch a garden?