clickmom

favorite holiday

I have 8 carved pumpkins.  Notice I didn't say I carved 8 pumpkins. Normally, I'd let the kids draw out the faces and face the arduous task of pumpkin carving in "it's just easier if I do it myself" isolation.  This year despite that I had plenty of time for any task in the world yesterday (as I waited for a delivery between 12 and 4 which arrived at 4:52)I, in typical me fashion,  couldn't being myself to start anything thinking that my delivery was bound to show up any moment, so the only thing I did manage to accomplish during my 5 hour delivery wait was a little nap not entirely comfortable in a chair, much like snoozing in the passenger seat with your neck all twisted and lovely drool landing on your shoulder.

I never got around to carving our pumpkins, which I also forgot to get the kids to design, so I didn't feel too bad.  Today I was busy busy with a photo assignment for the paper in the AM, dropping off 2 photos for a juried contest (the volunteers accepting the submissions LOVED one of them!), taking Matt for a haircut, bringing the husband to a car dealership so he can get a vehicle for Matt to learn to drive in that isn't my humongo truck, picking Matt up from his haircut, stopping by the music shop to reschedule Matt's weekly lesson, going home and then greeting the parents of all of Evan's friend's plus the kids that Evan's friend's said they would trick or treat with before getting asked by Evan came over and I had the brilliant idea of enlisting 9 twelve year old boys to design and carve my pumpkins and that was a SUCH great idea.  Aside from the one kid who was more happy merely stabbing all of the pumpkins than carving and de-seeding, the kids did an awesome job.

Then I gave them all pizza and let them loose on the neighborhood.  Sorry neighborhood.  All I'd like to do right now, at the very late hour of 8:41 is take a nap.  But Matt, being 16 is invited to a party that doesn't even start until 9.  So now I have to not only stay awake and dressed to bring Matt to the party, (I do plan on getting a visual on some parental supervision before abandoning him) but maybe even to bring him back home again.  I did warn Matt that I might be showing up at midnight in my PJ's, so he knows that I will not be getting out of the car during the return flight.  

Both Matt and Josh wore penguin costumes, and as is their typical routine, Matt took Josh around the neighborhood while I manned our front door and tended to the candles in 8 carved pumpkins on this windy halloween eve, as well as performing full size candy bar distribution.  Matt tells me that all the little kids that saw my two penguins parading around got pretty excited, and I can totally relate to that.  The two of them were damned adorable, even if I myself am not entirely objective, no not in the least.  

moving forward

I woke up in a funk this morning because I had a horrible dream.  I am overwhelmed with guilt over the way my father my died.  I struggle with the knowledge that I caved into the pressure of the two cardiologists who insisted my dad would not walk out of the hospital unless they put in a stint that night.  And I wonder every day if the failed attempt to put in that stint is what caused the massive stroke dad had 9 hours later.  Maybe he could have had even a couple of more weeks. At least he would have been able to say goodbye.

In my dream I was with my dad, who is kind of strung to a wall, knowing he is going to die because he has had a stroke and can't move or talk, like he was in real life.  Lil sis and my steps come into the room moving in slow underwater motion and no one is able to talk to each other.  We are not connected.  

All of a sudden my dad opens his eyes, lifts his head, and requests a banana from the nurse standing beside him.  I hear his voice and it sounds extraordinary.  It's like hearing heaven.  I am dream shocked, yet totally psyched, because I know I had just bought a bunch of bananas at whole foods and then my dad, wearing his typical pastel colored pants and acrylic old dude cardigan, steps off the platform he was tied to and I run to hold him up. 

I put his one arm over my shoulder and I hold his body tight.  He can barely walk and I am panicked, not knowing what to do about this sudden turn in his health.  Mostly, not knowing if it is real or imagined, because I think I might be dreaming in my dream.  At the same time I am luxuriating in the feeling of giving my dad a hug with my one arm while trying to help him walk and I think how amazingly comforting it is to have my arm around him and feel him right there next to me.  I smell his cologne.

I look around the room for someone to take dad's other side and no one can see us. It's like we are invisible and I can't get sound out of my mouth either.  I feel desperate that I am the only one who is aware of what is going on.

Then dad asks to walk unassisted.  I let him go, not because I want to but because I have to respect his decision, and he can't stand up.  He cries out from pain in his back, he bends forward, I can see his spine through a dark shirt he is suddenly wearing instead of the cardigan and I wake up.

I spend the first couple of hours of this day walking around with the weight of the world on my shoulders.  Then my house cleaners, who I normally try to avoid because the dude cleaner likes to talk to me more than I am comfortable with, come earlier than usual and the dude cleaner starts talking to me about all kinds of stuff except I don't feel like I can listen to him with this unbearable guilt smothering me, so I start talking and I tell him my dream.

And then cleaner dude says that he doesn't think the dream should cause me guilt at all.  He interprets the dream as illustrating how supportive and in tune with my dad I had been in real life.  He thinks the dream was my dad thanking me for being there for him.  And cleaner dude also thinks I should now pray to my dad.  But I'm focusing on the part where I was being appreciated for being supportive.  And in the end, much to my surprise, cleaner dude made me feel much better.  I gathered up my stuff and I went on with my day.

wah wah wah

I'm trying not to cry after getting a phone call from the place that I ordered some (15 different) photo cards from today.  After spending hours learning how to put a border on them and then finally ordering all 15 only to find out I have to order each one individually instead of all on one order and redoing all of my hard work, they called to say I didn't size the photos right and the results were not satisfactory.  

weeping weeping weeping

At least I found a reputable place that wouldn't send me not perfect photos.

And at least there are some real quality resizing video tutorials out there.

And I do have time. 

sniff sniff

pass the kleenex

all about me

I stopped by the frame store/gallery yesterday to pick up two images I had framed for a contest.  These were the images that the frame store/gallery owner put up in addition to the one he wanted for last weekend's big symphony party.  I walked in and he told me that my photos were very well received and that a local restaurant owner wanted to contact me to see about putting my shots up on display in his restaurant.  Yippee!  (Except for the part where I am going to have to pay for all the framing)  I called the guy yesterday but he wasn't in.  I'll try him again this afternoon.  It seems so weird to me to have such representation in a town that is not where I live.  My new new undead therapist is about a 25 minute drive from here.  I know, it seems strange to go that far.  I actually end up enjoying the whole routine of the long drive there and back.  It gives me pre and post therapy time to process what I have to offer up and what the results were.

Seeing that I have no connection with the new new undead therapist's town, it was struck me as shocking, to be honest, when the frame store/gallery owner told me that some people from the symphony knew me.  He said they were looking at my work and said to each other "Oh,  It's Amy." and that they seemed definitely familiar with me.  ?????????  I have no idea who it could have been.  But I'm dying to figure it out.

Speaking of figure it out, (howd'ya like that segue?)  I had a weight related moment of clarity over the weekend.  I was standing in front of the dryer folding clothes and apparently talking to myself in my head, which I know I do sometimes, but am not always aware of it until I say something surprising.   (My mother was a big self talker too, it must be hereditary.  Eventually, if I follow her lead, I'll begin talking out loud, so feel free to simply turn and walk away.  I might begin to resemble a crazy bag lady any day now.)  I stopped myself when I realized that I was conversing with my own feelings (and to honest, if you don't share my special kind of crazy don't even try to figure this one out) about losing weight.  My talking self told my feeling self that I should really lose some weight to feel better and be able to move more easily and run on the track easier and my feeling self was hesitant and fearful so my talking self suggested that I just lose some of the weight and I could still be fat, just more comfortable and that is when my conscious self stepped in and said WHAT"S GOING ON IN THERE?  

And then, standing there with Josh's warm dry sweatpants in my hands, I realized that all this time I have been giving lip service to the "It's not the weight I am wanting it's the eating I need to do" I was lying to myself and there is some kind of attachment to the poundage.  Now I have to try to figure this one out.   Not only do I eat too much for the ability to comfort myself for having any emotion, you name it, at all, but it has just become apparent that all this extra poundage is serving some kind of psychological purpose as well.  Sheeeeet.  

I'm going to call the psychic and see if she can clue me in here.  It's not that I don't want to do the head work, it's just that I'd like to have the answers to the test so I can study more effectively.  You know? I am ready to face my demons and deal so I can move past, it's just that I have no idea what the demons are.  I need the test prep.

Josh came home from school yesterday asking to go to the bookstore.  His class was visited by an author who read from her book and he just had to have that book.  It was convenient, so we stopped by our local mom and mom book store and the author is a SAHM that I actually know.  I'm pretty jealous of her accomplishment (even if she did self publish) and now I might have to write a book myself.

Seriously

More of Josh's doofy talking like a grown up.  This is what he declared walking into the house after a game of football with Evan.  "That was one intense game.  (pant pant) Seriously, look at all the stains it provided!" (And then he showed us his green/brown pant knees.)

In other news, lil sis met Kate of Jon and Kate plus 8 fame.  Lil sis reports that Kate is seriously skinny and that her hair only looks shiteous from the back.  I'll see if I can get the photos for you.  I wonder if I'd be skinny if I had a camera crew following me around and a staff of people in my employ.  hahaha.  Never!!

janitor

While I was getting ready to prepare my babes birthday for Kitten lunch yesterday I got a call from my editor asking me to cover a possible (and now we know actual) homicide.  Gulp.  

I can't say NO to my editor, she's been such a great friend to me over the years, and I had factored some extra cleaning time into my morning prep, and cleaning?  who needs it? right?  So I gathered up my gear and headed off to the crime scene.  The only thing on my mind was NOT wanting to see the body being removed from the building.  I was fine taking photos of the activity in the area, but dreaded the slim chance that I'd get a peek of a sheet covered victim.  My heart was in my mouth the whole time.  The people in the area were in total shock.  I sent in my photos without IDing the subjects.  I just didn't feel like I could approach them.

I went back for a little while today, and spent much time on the phone with my editor describing the scene, and checking in with her.  During one of our conversations my editor mentioned that another paper employee lives near the scene and that the people of the area were grateful for my sensitive photos and the way I conducted myself while in the area.  (Or something nice like that, to be honest I wasn't expecting to hear the compliment and was kind of in shock)

I had no idea what to say.  Normally I feel like such a clod in any kind of sensitive situation.  The post that started this whole blog was a funeral post.  Someone didn't like me being at this other funeral though.   I'm glad I did the right thing.  I want to find these people and ask them what I did right.  I'd like to do it again.

vodka!

I highly recommend vodka drinks at Friday's lunch.  Especially when Friday's lunch is in honor of kitten's birthday and also is at your house from which you can stumble over to the elementary school ON FOOT to pick up your only child who does not arrive home by himself either by foot or by school bus.  I also recommend preparing friday's dinner before imbibing in friday's vodka filled lunch because once the vodka mood strikes cooking is not what you are going to want to do. Also, sharp knives and vodka?  Not a good match

As if enough really nice things hadn't happened to me already I was in Whole Foods yesterday, staring at the freezer case trying to will the pre-made cinnamon buns into showing themselves to me (isn't that a nice friday morning breakfast for my little students?) when I think I hear my name timidly whispered on my right side.  I turn to the right to discover the mother of one of Josh's best pre-school buddies standing there.  I haven't seen her in two years, and she tells me right off the bat that sometimes she needs inspiration (she's a poet) and she keeps the postcard from my show last spring in the book she writes in and in those dry times she whips my landscape postcard out and stares at it.  Awesome right?  

U just tried to proof this and gawd do I spell craaaazy after a vodka lunch.  It's like totally worse than when I quickly post from my iphone.  But easier to correct, so forgive me folks, I tried- you know to correct.

Now you'll have to excuse me while I search for my unfocused image on all the news shows (every single channel and Pat Battle said HI to me as all the press people stood around WAITING) that were in my town today when someone influential died under suspicious circumstances.  I have a connection and I know the real prevailing theory.  Not exciting at all, but I figured they sent the helicopters, so they are at least going to run some of the footage.

positive reinforcement

Some people respond to it (see title) and I am one of them.  Tell me I am doing a good job and I'll work even harder.  I got some positive reinforcement this week and I am just floating along this afternoon.  

1. I've been taking a photo class where all the people work on their own personal projects and the teacher is there for individual help.  Monday I showed up with a couple of color early morning fog photos that I wanted to print.  The teacher and the TA really liked them.  After printing them up I admitted to the TA that I had no photoshop skills to speak of and his responded by saying "When you take photos like that you don't need photoshop skills!" (still, I know I should learn) 

2. I decided to enter those two photos (see #1) in an upcoming juried contest for which they have to be framed.  Today I brought them to the frame store/gallery where the guy wants to put up a different photo of mine (to see what kind of response it gets) for a couple of local events he is hosting in the next few weeks.  When he saw the two new photos today he said he said he was going to frame them ASAP so he could put them on display in his gallery for the first big event scheduled for this weekend.

3. The frame store/gallery guy keeps suggesting that I contact some of the larger poster companies (which is a great way to make some serious $$ as a photographer) and show them my stuff.  He thinks my stuff is better than anything they have in their catalogs.  Maybe one day you can buy my stuff at Pottery Barn.  I'd take it, totally.

4. Then I went to therapy and I was going on and on about how I make myself all anxious worrying about shit and if all of my worrying had any purpose (like preparing me for disasters which may or may not happen) or if I was just wasting my energy and my new new undead therapist leans forward in his seat, looks me in the eye and and says in a most serious manner "Look, you're an incredible artist, you need to forget that shit and pour all of that energy into your craft."  Like he really thought I had this big gift to share with the world, and you know, I'm starting to believe that maybe I do. 

do do do do do feelin groovy

Turducken victory

First I want to tell you all that I have mo resection for Julie of Julie and Julia because deboning??? Just not that hard. Time consuming? Yup. Hard?? Nope. I'd like to personally thank just about every YouTube tutorial on deboning for their guidance. I felt like I had been there before, even with first bird.

I did go with a basic brine solution over night. Salt and brown sugar.

I ended up only making two stuffings because I made way too much. They were surprisingly good considering they were gluten free. The assembly was easy up until the sewing Franky back together part. I didn't have the right kind needle so I poked holes in the skin with a knife a managed to push loops of kitchen twine through with my finger nails. Functionally it was just fine. Didn't make for the prettiest presentation, but the bird gets cooked string side down anyway.

What I would different? This time I got the smallest birds I could find. Next time I would get bigger duck and chicken to even out the ratios a bit. Also, I'd consider remving the very thick duck skin.

I cooked franky at 375 for about 3 hours. If I did it again I would go for a lower heat and a longer cooking time for more well done insides. Mine was cooked but not like- slow cooker cooked. I think the duck in particular would have benefitted from some more time in the oven.

It was good though. And the gravy from the pan drippings totally rocked.

Franky is in the oven and smelling real nice!!

Here is his rear view right before I flipped him over coated him with butter and sprinkled him with seasoning. He smells so good cooking. I haven't a clue how long the cooking is going to take. I just hope we don't end up ordering take out at eight o'clock when he's still half raw.