Grateful Friday

Today I give thanks for...

Freedom. I am out of QT. Not that there are all that many places to go right now, but I am no longer home bound.

I showered today and got dressed in real clothes. I put on perfume and a little make-up and I almost didn't recognize myself.

I'm feeling better too, but still not 100 percent. I'm grateful for a quiet weekend to continue to rest and recover. It's the perfect excuse to commit to this stack. I started When We Believed in Mermaids this week because I was in the mood for some easy fiction. Then I'll breeze through Gillies second memoir and take my time with Massie's narrative fiction. I don't expect to get through all three this weekend though.

 I have a date with Sue next week to go consignment shopping and then have wine.

Goodies from the Oostburg bakery. My brother and sil dropped off a QT booster. Lily had donuts for dinner one night this week and we were all good with that.

 

Another night I made this old favorite adapted from a recipe my mil gave me when Mike and I first got married. It's a chicken tortilla casserole and it is dang good. Lily even said so and she's hard to please these days.

Then I made Sunday sauce on Wednesday because I could. Also pictured here is my immersion blender which I could not live without.

Cooking with Lily. I love spending time in the kitchen with my best girl.

She has her confirmation retreat tomorrow. It's an all day Zoom. That's a bit of a bummer, but I know that she has a stack of letters from family and friends that she gets to open and she will feel the love. We had to print off T's. I read it accidentally. I was a puddle. It was everything a mother wants to hear her children say to each other.

And Ted is in the part of the semester known as the grind. He's studying hard...a serious student and I am proud of his commitment.

Day 10

After not leaving the house for over a week, yesterday I had to get out. I did a couple no contact errands and then I just went for a Sunday drive on a Wednesday. It was a mood booster. I was inspired to make dinner when I got home. I have had zero kitchen inspiration during QT, but my taste is coming back and so is my appetite and thus my enthusiasm. I roasted tomatoes (romas and camparis) and garlic for my favorite tomato soup. It's simple, but delicious. The tomatoes and gooey garlic get shuzzed in the blender with some herbs after they are soft and brown. Then they go in a pan on the stove top with a pat of butter to cut the acidity and some good chicken stock. After about half an hour, I ladle the tomatoey goodness in crocks, add some diced onion (kind of makes the soup), and top them with a mound of sharp white shredded cheddar. Into the oven they go for 20 minutes until a crusty cheese lid forms. Lils made the foccacia. We hemmed and hawed about needing bread, and then we ate the entire round between the three of us. Family dinner is an important ritual at Casa Wags and I was grateful for its return.

We finished our game of gin while we ate. I was last night's winner. As we cleaned up, I felt happy to my core for my family, our house and even my health.

I am on my last day of QT and I'm feeling better...like 75%. I'm also very much feeling like the naughty child for having contracted the virus in the first place. There is definitely a stigma attached to it. I think that's why I've been quiet here. I'm porous. Prone. Tired of questions about how I possibly contracted the virus. The virus that is airborne and highly contagious.

I think I'll go for another drive this afternoon and maybe even a walk. The exercise regimen I worked hard to re implement has been dashed during this bout, but it's time to get back to business. Spring is on the horizon...it's in the 40s and sunny again today. 

Brighter days are ahead.

 

You Cannot Bear Witness With A Single Word

My eighth-grade English teacher st Christian Heritage Academy put the word genocide on a vocabulary list. I hated it immediately.

I did not understand the point of the word genocide then. I resent and revile it now. The word is tidy and efficient. It holds no true emotion. It is impersonal when it needs to be intimate, cool and sterile when it needs to be gruesome. The word is hollow, true, but disingenuous, a performance, the worst kind of lie.

It cannot do justice - it is not meant to do justice - to the thing it describes.

The word genocide cannot tell you, cannot make you feel, the way I felt in Rwanda. The way I felt in Burundi. The way I wished to be invisible because I knew someone wanted me dead at a point in my life when I did not yet understand what death was.

~ The Girl Who Smiled Beads

Clemantine Wamariya

This passage from Wamariya's story of war and what comes after got me thinking about words straight away. I kept thinking about the way language defines and constructs as I read her narrative. Obviously, her experience is beyond words. Words fall short. They seek to impart order to chaos and to explain the unexplainable.

I finished this memoir the other day. It is a powerful recounting of survival and also brokenness. I think every young woman should read this story. I'm passing it onto my daughter.

Day 8

I've spent the last week in QT. What I thought was a head cold, ended up being THE virus. I don't know where I got it. I don't know anyone who's sick. Not even the two people I live with. I am thankful I have a mild case. The worst symptoms are my overly sensitive nose (I feel like I have to sneeze all the time) and my loss of taste and smell. That's what sent me for a test. 

The health department finally called me yesterday. The very nice nurse is supposed to call me back today. She couldn't answer my questions about when QT ends. I didn't think they were trick questions, but she confessed that she needed to check with her supervisor. Hmmm. 

Right now I can hear Lily playing Jingle Bells. She's in piano class. The QT version. It's 50 degrees out today. I can't help feeling that Here Comes the Sun might be a better option. I feel horrible that she has to QT because of me. Softball practice started yesterday. I know she hates missing things and here we go again. Deja vu.

It's funny. I used to fantasize about an extended stretch with nowhere to go, no place to be, but it gets old. I'm thinking about becoming the next Roger or Ebert. I've watched a lot of television. Some of it worth mentioning like Hotel Rwanda. I tracked it down after finishing The Girl Who Smiled Beads. Wamariya is a Rwandan refugee. A survivor. Her story is haunting me just a little. I also watched The Little Things because I love the cast. Mike and I both agreed it was decent. 

I have a stack of books, but I also have a foggy brain so little concentration. Candace dropped off a book about the Romanovs that looks promising, but also like maybe too much right now. She also left a loaf of fresh bread. I almost ate the whole thing despite the fact I couldn't taste it. No taste means no satisfaction.

I might make tomato soup this afternoon. I might take a walk. And I might just curl up on the couch and watch reality tv.

Wordie

Do you ever come across words in another language that make more sense than your native lexicon? I often find this when one foreign word feels like it gets to the essence of what several familiar words fail to capture. They are the kinds of words that give me pause. I sit with them and think where has this word been all my life? It's an aha moment. These words...they stay with me. When I find words that get to the heart of the matter, I adopt them because words are my passion. I'm all about poignantly and efficiently expressing myself.

In The Girl Who Smiled Beads, Wamariya talks about her katundu: her stuff, in a nutshell. But it's not just the miscellany or the detritus she's accumulated along the way, it's literally how she makes sense of her life. She refers to these fragments as primary sources. As such, they help her construct a narrative of her complicated history. I cannot stop thinking about this word. Katundu has taken its hold. It's so much more powerful than possessions or mementos or stuff. 

Titzia is another word once borrowed I now own. It's a lovely word with origins in the Bible. Noah's wife was often called Titzia. In Amharic, it means memory tinged with regret. So nostalgia, but more. Titzia embodies that sentiment more completely. I say it and I do so with yearning. It is not overused or cliche. It's powerful.

I find Yiddish powerful too, but also playful. Fun to say. So many of the words and phrases are mainstream now like verklempt and chutzpah and kvetsch, but I'm lucky that Linda shares the more obscure ones with me even though I am a goy.

Snow Day

 

It's a good thing work was called off today. I'd be home either way. I came home yesterday feeling horribly punky and spent the night on the couch unable to get warm while feeling achy and feverish. The slight cough I developed the night before returned. The ridiculousness that is The Bachelor kept my mind off my ailments temporarily. Then I went to bed with Wave and I finally felt warm and completely distracted for the first time all night. I finished my book. What a lovely life Sonal had and lost. I simply cannot fathom how she is still living. Neither can she.

I know what you're thinking. I went there too, but it's feeling more like the standard respiratory infection today. I took two generous swigs of Nyquil last night and slept 12 hours so I'm feeling groggy more than anything this morning. And grateful. I love a snowy shut in day.

I stopped at the grocery in anticipation of this storm and one of the things I'm going to do today is make some meals for Teddy to send with his buddy who's going up this weekend. I may also make more tarts to share and a quiche for later this week. I love being in the kitchen on cold, snowy days. I have big windows that look out on my backyard so I can admire the accumulation.

I also plan to start the next book in my queue. It's called The Girl Who Smiled Beads. It's another memoir. From what I can tell, another tough to read memoir. Those are my favorite because survivors are the best teachers. I learn so much about living from the courage they have to muster to tell their stories.

On an aside, I just want to say I think it's ridiculous that Lily had to drive to school this morning. With the online capabilities they are all now familiar with, I don't understand the logic of making them come to school in a raging snowstorm. This world is upside down.  Cold and beautiful too.

Weekending

This Valentine's weekend was filled with the good stuff: time together and treats. Mike and I played lots of cards. In the course of three days, we exchanged the title three times. We made a celebratory dinner Saturday night and set the dining room table with flowers and candles. Mike roasted lobster tails from the Galapagos and perfectly cooked filets. It was better than restaurant quality. I made risotto in the oven. I was apprehensive having been schooled in the belief that good risotto requires steady stirring, but I couldn't tell the difference. I consider this quite a breakthrough because it eliminates the fuss factor. We exchanged our Valentines and all felt the love.

Sunday I was up early to get in a workout before church. I had the 8 o' clock hour and Lily had the 9 o' clock, before 11:30 mass. I thought it would be sparse given the fact it was barely above zero, but I dare say it was more crowded than Christmas Eve. We went for a holiday brunch after church. It was hoppin' at Café Hollander too. I just cannot get over what a treat it feels to go out, see people, be waited on and cooked for. Mike loved his spicy egg dish and Lily sang praises over her chicken wrap. I was perfectly pleased with my traditional breakfast of runny eggs and multi-grain toast. The company was the best part.

I came home and curled up on the couch under the warmest afghan I could find and started Wave. After 50 heartbreaking pages, I dozed off for a 60 minute nap. This was shaping up to be the perfect day. I woke feeling refreshed and ready to win back the Gin title. None of us were all that hungry, but we followed through with the plan to make a little Chinese dinner. It was inspired by some General Tso's Cauliflower we picked up the last time we were at Costco. It is worth buying btw. I made egg rolls and Mike made Fried Rice. Lily made the most decadent Chocolate Tart that I enjoyed with my coffee this morning. I earned it after my mammogram.

The cold is here for a few more days, and snow is in this evening's forecast: 4-6 inches. I'm going back to my spot on the couch under my Ugg throw with my book. Dinner tonight is leftovers from the weekend. I won't be disappointed if tomorrow is a snow day.