Livin' la Vida Solo Rant

Single life just isn't fun.

Oh sure, I have unlimited access to the phone, bathroom, remote control... but it just doesn't make up for being able to cuddle up to a warm husband at night (or at least cuddle up to a warm husband sleeping one bed over).

Tonight, I stayed at work until 5:30. Not late, you might say. True, I admit, but late enough when you consider I arrived at 7:30. And I brought more work home with me. This is all part of Hell Week. Somehow, I roped myself into coordinating and chaperoning the seventh grade trip to Mackinac Island this year. We're having an organizational meeting for the 100+ participants on Wednesday evening. Did I mention I'm xenophobic? Not really, but there's a huge reason why I didn't go into business or sales, aside from my deep and abiding love for serving humanity in the non-profit sector. I once read an article on aish.com that talked about how singles should spend their time developing a love and yearning to serve the community. Yeah. Serve this.

And, parent-teacher conferences are this Thursday and next Tuesday evenings.

The long and short of it all: I hate dealing with adults (present company excluded since *most* of you are not idiots).

You see, I can excuse most acts of anti-genius in children. They are, well, children, after all and it's my job to develop and mold their little brains and generally beat the ingrained stupidity out of them. Are you scared, yet? The problem comes when I have to meet their parents. All year, I train them to not say "shut up"to each other and not to say "I ain't got none". When I meet Mom and Dad, they are inevitably yelling at their child, "Shut up! You know we ain't got nonna that at home! Oh wait, maybe I seen some yesterday in the TV room."

It's a lost cause. At least they'll all know the capital of Bolivia (quick - what is it?). Wait. Wait. La Paz. Ha, I knew you could do it.

Speaking of adults at the top of my fecal roster, I have again been bullied into eating Shabbos dinner at the house of woman in the community who will simultaneously ask you to help serve supper, try to sell you some clothes, and arrange for you to babysit for her ten (b'li ayin hara) lovely children on Shabbos afternoon so she and her husband can have a Shabbos shluf. Single girls, after all, have nothing better to do.

My inability to say no (translation: my inability to think up lies fast enough when caught unawares answering my phone at 10:30 p.m.) is woefully underdeveloped, but improving, generally-speaking. I was invited to the bar mitzvah of this woman's son a while back. She didn't have it catered and was relying on her guests to help serve the food (though she did manage to rent a hall). I snapped right before cholent. I had just sat down to eat my salad when she approached me and asked if I would go in and help serve the rest of the meal. WTF?!? Across the room sat an entire bevy of her female relatives who were in town from New York. Did they lift one jappy little finger? No. I, on the other hand, developed sudden, violent stomach cramps and had to excuse myself immediately to flee the scene.

The lamprey eel is an invasive species in the Great Lakes. "When attacking, the lamprey fastens onto its prey and rasps out a hole with its rough tongue.An anticoagulant in the lamprey's saliva keeps the wound open for hours or weeks, until the lamprey is satiated or the host fish dies." Sea Lamprey/Fish of the Great Lakes by Wisconsin Sea Grant.

Draw your own parallels.

This time, however, I'm taking a friend. Two is stronger than one.

Which brings me back to my original statement: single life just isn't fun. There was no one to help me carry in the groceries tonight, no one to get excited about the yummy soups I'm going to make tomorrow, no one to rub my neck and shoulders (at this point, I'd trade any possibility of ever having sex for a good neck/shoulder rub). I know I can pay to have this done (the massage, that is), but at this point I need it so badly that it would be like hiring a prostitute and would be woefully unsatisfying in so many, many ways.

Ah, at least I have my feather bed and a nice dog warming it for me as I sit here and type this (moving her will require a forklift, but will be well worth it once accomplished).

Ta ta. I'm going to bed.

Blogging for the Blog's Sake

I am still amongst the living. Remember the adage "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"? Yeah.

In other news, I'm joining Elster in the Nanowrimo challenge - writing a 50,000 word novel in one month. I figure this works out to 2,000 words per day for the 26 available days of the month of November. We start on Monday night at midnight (or, in my case, at 5:00 Tuesday moning). Fame, fortune, and a cabin in the woods, here I come!

Seriously, it's October, almost November. I started putting on my storm windows today. Had to borrow M.H.'s husband to do the heavy lifting (thanks!).

Ugh. Will write more when have something nice to say.

Qualifications #57 and #58

My grandparents are selling their house - the same house featured in the blog entries The Princess Takes a Walk and Summer as It Should Be...




As of now, I'm seeking a chosson who is a) available immediately and b) rich enough to buy the place.

Lest anyone think that we here in the Midwest are wealthy, my grandparents purchased the lot for a very modest price the year I was born (do the math). Lakefront real estate has sky-rocketed in value since then, leaving me utterly unable to afford to buy it.

O Chosson, my Chosson - where art thou? Bringest near thy checkbook...

Call me a moneygrubber or call me a sentimental fool. Whatever. The thought of losing this place in the spring hurts like hell.

Mowing the lawn and other Sunday chores

Pulled out the vintage mower today for a last spin around the postage stamp. I've decided to let the fallen leaves remain in order to increase the amount of organic material in the soil. I just mowed right over them. We'll see how the neighbors like that.

I generally disdain the people who hire ChemLawn and other toxic lawn services. I don't care what they use or how much it has been tested - it can't be healthy for our neighborhood environment to have so many chemicals sprayed on everyone's lawn. I found this great website - Organic Lawn Care for the Cheap and Lazy - and I'm following the guy's advice. So far, so good, but I really don't care as long as it's green.

While I was mowing I got to thinking about all those people in Nevada and how they want to divert water from the Great Lakes to water their lawns which, incidentally, are in the desert. I'm sorry, but if you move to the desert, you forfeit your right to have a green lawn. Make a rock garden or a cactus garden.

"Photo/Tom Lynn The suburb of Henderson is part of the urban sprawl surrounding Las Vegas. More than 5,000 people move to the area every month, and many of them insist on having yards with trees and shrubs." Great Lakes Tempt A Thirsty Nation Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.

I grew up on the shores of Lake Michigan. For the past five years, the water level in Little Traverse Bay has been lower than I ever remember it. For up-to-date information on threats to the Great Lakes, visit the Great Lakes Commission.

On another, yet related, topic, during my lawnmower musing, I remembered a website that appeared shortly after Bush's reelection in 2004. The bit about Florida is what I thought of when I started thinking about geographical locations which are unsuitable for human habitation without major modifications to the environment. WARNING: it contains very foul language but is hilarious, if you have that kind of a sense of humor. If you're offended by the f-word, don't visit the site. I don't want to hear about it.

And, of course, remember that I would (will?) take my granola-eatin', Subaru-drivin', Democratic-votin' self and happily build a cabin in the woods of the Upper Peninsula and live there "off the grid". Perhaps soon, if this whole Chosson Hunt thing doesn't resolve itself.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 has been posted to my book blog. Feel free to check it out if you're interested in young adult fantasy/adventure lit.

Rosh Hashanah Blue

Let's talk about going to shul.

I have a friend who is frum, but who is one of the more outrageous frummies I know. We can go toe-to-toe in foul language and just last Saturday night, I saw her down a pitcher of some fruity vodka drink without even getting a buzz. My point? She goes to shul every Shabbos without fail. I sat next to her in our rented High Holiday seats one row back in the women's section - she was davening like her life depended on it.

How often do I go to shul? Mmm...never.

Shabbos morning rolls around and all I want to do is curl up on the couch with my book for a few hours before davening and going to lunch. I try to convince myself that I should go hear laining, but my laziness yetzer hara gets the better of me.

So, how much time did I spend in shul on Rosh Hashanah, one of the holiest days on the Jewish calendar? Approximately two hours.

On the first day, I arrived just in time for shofar blowing, having davened shacharis at home. I lasted through the Kedushah of Mussaf before I fled the scene. I had to get out. I was suffocating and dying of boredom. Where was the kavannah?!? In years past, I've been able to dredge it up from somewhere, but this year, nothing.

Second day I used the excuse that I was having people over for lunch and I needed to do last minute things like heat the roast, make Waldorf salad (sans nuts), bake the squash kugel, etc. I did manage to hear shofar blowing - a somewhat impromptu performance given by my neighbor while standing on the street corner for the benefit of myself, his wife, and M.H. who was coming to eat lunch at my house.

I hope Yom Kippur is easier. Otherwise, it will be a long, long day.

Off to eat oatmeal before the fast starts.

Posting Drought

I suspect that over the next few weeks my posting will be sporadic.

Between the yamim tovim (holidays) and playing catch up after missing so much school, I don't expect to have much time. Woohoo. I can't wait. (notice the deliberate lack of exclamation marks)

Also, Soulmate and I have set a date to meet in person. For lots of really good reasons (translation: I don't want any advice re: the timeline of everything), he's coming here for Thanksgiving weekend. This is totally groovy with me because it will give me the opportunity to really have a good shot at losing the 20 lbs (current progress: 3 lbs lost in 1.5 weeks - not too bad).

Yet, this brings up another dilemma - what am I going to blog about during this time? Technically this blog is supposed to be about shidduchim. I can only tell you so many times how awesome and fantatstic he is - I'm sure it's already gotten old. I don't want to share specific details of conversations/emails because they are ongoing and are personal - I wouldn't share most of them without his permission.

So, while I think about this, I'll go back to yom tov cooking (first time making real chicken soup!) and try to puzzle it all out.

L'shana tova.