So You've Got Green Eyes
Okay. I have downed a bit too much of my namesake (but what is the opposite of namesake? Not a clue.) But what else is new?
My advice to you, gentle reader, is: Do Not Get Stoned Before Going to the Gym.
This morning I woke up incredibly tense, and the apartment was totally freezing. I made coffee which made me dry-heave after I drank it. I put on my sweatpants and Trey's big sweatshirt with the zipper. Still freezing. I thought about taking a hot bath. I had promised myself I'd go to the gym, that I would go to Pilates before brunch with Miss B. I felt a big paranoia coming on, and wanted to get back in bed with Trey but the one thing I can't ever bear to do is wake him up. Ever. I am incredibly protective of his sleep, because his hours are so crazy. Last Sunday I locked myself out of the house at 10:30 a.m. and killed time wandering all over Brooklyn until almost 2 so he got enough sleep.
So I smoked some pot and took a hot bath. I knew it was the only thing that would relax me enough to get me to Pilates.
Except, when you are stoned, the walk to the gym is very complicated AND you are likely to a) forget your mat and b) forget that Pilates is at 2, not 12:30. But the treadmill was super fun!
I then met Miss B. for brunch, which was very nice indeed. And then on my way home I ran into Trey, out for a walk, and it was as happy a surprise as finding a winning Powerball ticket. We came home and had a nice afternoon and he cooked me this incredible dinner before going to work and I read him silly things off the web, in particular, the blog that Ashbloem turned me onto: www.dooce.com. I have been reading backwards, crying at all the baby parts.
I am the luckiest woman in the world, having my husband. Not only is he incredibly patient, he seems to really enjoy being so. For example -- he thought it was funny when I insisted that we order the "Orange Glo/KABOOM! Bathroom Cleaner Set" RIGHT THEN because the T.V. said so. (Which arrived TODAY! and the shower has never been so clean!) He built me a closet and never gets mad when I buy dresses on eBay.
And he pays attention. One way I know this is that he knew immediately the correct color of my eyes. I have very green eyes. Not mojito green or moss green, but an exact melange of algae, Jell-O, and paper money that many casual observers write off as blue. The worst being my own mother. When I was 14 and my military ID had to be renewed, she filled out the card as my being a blue-eyed blonde. Which, being a dead ringer for Shirley Manson, is plainly wrong.
I hope he is having an okay night at work. I miss my husband a lot when he works. I can't imagine what it must be like to have your husband or wife away for weeks or months. What it is like having your partner -- in Iraq or something, when you have no idea when or if they are coming back?? My grandmother's husband was in WWII and gone for two years. Unbelievable. He died in 1997 and she last summer. We looked alike, she and I. It is a very humbling thing to be caring for a 94 year-old woman, to be bathing and dressing her, and to be familiar with the most intimate parts of her body, to be staring right into the architecure of a 94-year-old woman's private parts and realizing not only "that's where my dad came from" but "oh my god, our pussies are built the EXACT SAME WAY and I am looking at myself 3 kids and 60 years later!" Every day she had pictures of my grrandfather next to her, and would wave goodnight to him before she went to sleep. One of her favorite stories she would tell me is how in love they were until the morning he never woke up. Just a few days before he had pretended to chase her into the garage but she made him stop -- she didn't want to be making out in front of the postman.
Man, I hope we all get to be as happy as my grandparents were! I hope everyone gets to be so happy. You know what? If it meant that everyone got to be happy with someone else -- if it meant that everyone who missed someone got to be with them all night -- I would pay a lot more in taxes. Wouldn't you?
arrgh.
L.
My advice to you, gentle reader, is: Do Not Get Stoned Before Going to the Gym.
This morning I woke up incredibly tense, and the apartment was totally freezing. I made coffee which made me dry-heave after I drank it. I put on my sweatpants and Trey's big sweatshirt with the zipper. Still freezing. I thought about taking a hot bath. I had promised myself I'd go to the gym, that I would go to Pilates before brunch with Miss B. I felt a big paranoia coming on, and wanted to get back in bed with Trey but the one thing I can't ever bear to do is wake him up. Ever. I am incredibly protective of his sleep, because his hours are so crazy. Last Sunday I locked myself out of the house at 10:30 a.m. and killed time wandering all over Brooklyn until almost 2 so he got enough sleep.
So I smoked some pot and took a hot bath. I knew it was the only thing that would relax me enough to get me to Pilates.
Except, when you are stoned, the walk to the gym is very complicated AND you are likely to a) forget your mat and b) forget that Pilates is at 2, not 12:30. But the treadmill was super fun!
I then met Miss B. for brunch, which was very nice indeed. And then on my way home I ran into Trey, out for a walk, and it was as happy a surprise as finding a winning Powerball ticket. We came home and had a nice afternoon and he cooked me this incredible dinner before going to work and I read him silly things off the web, in particular, the blog that Ashbloem turned me onto: www.dooce.com. I have been reading backwards, crying at all the baby parts.
I am the luckiest woman in the world, having my husband. Not only is he incredibly patient, he seems to really enjoy being so. For example -- he thought it was funny when I insisted that we order the "Orange Glo/KABOOM! Bathroom Cleaner Set" RIGHT THEN because the T.V. said so. (Which arrived TODAY! and the shower has never been so clean!) He built me a closet and never gets mad when I buy dresses on eBay.
And he pays attention. One way I know this is that he knew immediately the correct color of my eyes. I have very green eyes. Not mojito green or moss green, but an exact melange of algae, Jell-O, and paper money that many casual observers write off as blue. The worst being my own mother. When I was 14 and my military ID had to be renewed, she filled out the card as my being a blue-eyed blonde. Which, being a dead ringer for Shirley Manson, is plainly wrong.
I hope he is having an okay night at work. I miss my husband a lot when he works. I can't imagine what it must be like to have your husband or wife away for weeks or months. What it is like having your partner -- in Iraq or something, when you have no idea when or if they are coming back?? My grandmother's husband was in WWII and gone for two years. Unbelievable. He died in 1997 and she last summer. We looked alike, she and I. It is a very humbling thing to be caring for a 94 year-old woman, to be bathing and dressing her, and to be familiar with the most intimate parts of her body, to be staring right into the architecure of a 94-year-old woman's private parts and realizing not only "that's where my dad came from" but "oh my god, our pussies are built the EXACT SAME WAY and I am looking at myself 3 kids and 60 years later!" Every day she had pictures of my grrandfather next to her, and would wave goodnight to him before she went to sleep. One of her favorite stories she would tell me is how in love they were until the morning he never woke up. Just a few days before he had pretended to chase her into the garage but she made him stop -- she didn't want to be making out in front of the postman.
Man, I hope we all get to be as happy as my grandparents were! I hope everyone gets to be so happy. You know what? If it meant that everyone got to be happy with someone else -- if it meant that everyone who missed someone got to be with them all night -- I would pay a lot more in taxes. Wouldn't you?
arrgh.
L.
posted by Lillet Langtry at 8:58 PM
3 Comments:
Well, I understand the crying because of Dooce, because that's what I spent some of my weekend doing too. Her newsletters to her daughter were so moving it took everything in me to not run outside and order the first good-looking man I saw to IMPREGNATE ME IMMEDIATELY.
I also know that feeling looking at my grandmother when she was dying and she needed help with everything and feeling the most basic female and familial connection with her. It maybe was the beginning of my thoughts on how I did want family after all and fuck this idea of the woman who has everything and doesn't need children. I mean, I'm sure it works for some but not for me. When I am lying on my deathbed and need someone to give me ice chips and a sponge bath I'd rather it be someone I gave birth to or my child gave birth to over anyone else, you know?
Wow.
The first time I went to take care of my grandmother after my grandfather died, was the beginning of that seismic shift within myself, as well, from thinking that Holly GoLightly was a good idea, and that I really wanted to be with someone nice.
love
Ida -
The opposite of "namesake" is "eponym." I think.
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