Wednesday, December 22, 2004
A collage of a day...
...and that's the only way it makes any sense.
I awoke from a dismemberment dream. It wasn't scary, wasn't a bad dream. Although I have no idea what dismemberment dreams classically mean, I think I know how this one came about. The dream featured me looking for and finally locating someone to lop off my left hand. Somehow in my sleep I'd managed to assault my "compassion crick" left thumb (which hasn't shown any signs of healing), painfully locking it. I awoke from the dream as I, equally painfully, straightened the offending knuckle out of the lock. Immediately upon awaking, remembering the dream, it occurred to me that, considering how intense the pain is when this happens, it's possible that the discomfort of a phantom hand would be more easily endured than this.
Despite this things went well for awhile. I awoke early, visited the natural foods store where I purchase Mom's 100% aloe vera gel and one of Mom's iron supplements, had a crazy conversation with a guy about talking the automatic door open, which added a touch of whimsy to the day, and headed home determined to get Mom up and out. It was, by the way, a cloudy morning, which always buoys my spirit. I also tend to forget that the opposite happens for Mom; at least until I awaken her and notice she's dragging. Today, it seems, was going to be another "Why get up?" day for her. Disappointment eluded me, though. Today was Pick up a Pork Roast at Costco Day, whether or not she accompanied me.
I'm not sure what happened between the time I set Mom up with several episodes on Animal Planet of That's My Baby and the time I set foot on the pavement at Costco. I had even remembered to take my iPod and set it on a playlist loaded with upbeat, soaring music. Before I showed my card at the door I was being shadowed by dread. They had their pumpkin cheesecakes on display and my normal reaction is to stow one in my cart. Although my mother doesn't like pumpkin pie, she loves their pumpkin cheesecake. So do I. Couldn't work up the enthusiasm. Then I noticed I was going around the outside perimeter in order to avoid the sampling kiosks specifically so I wouldn't have to participate in conversation. When I discovered that Costco was out of the small pork roasts they had a few days ago I noticed a mean little elf inside me dancing a gleeful jig. That's it, I decided, I obviously am not interested in preparing Christmas dinner. In fact, I couldn't remember why I became momentarily enthused about it in the first place. Must have been guilt, I decided. Well, to hell with that. I'm not going to try to fool myself into thinking I'm interested in putting on a Christmas Show for anyone.
When I arrived home I announced to Mom that I'd changed my mind about Christmas dinner. I knew what I wanted this year in the way of celebration. Nothing. That's the way I was going to play it out.
Mom didn't seem disappointed although she asked, "Not even dessert?!?"
"We've got those muffins, Mom, we'll continue to have those, off and on, until they're gone."
"Well," she said, "I was thinking about that cheesecake, you don't have to make that..."
I tell you, the woman is uncanny. This happens often between us: One of us will be thinking of something relatively obscure and the other one will announce it. "I don't know," I said. "That would mean another trip to Costco, and Christmas is Saturday, and it's Tuesday, now...I don't know..."
"I can make Christmas dinner," she offered.
I couldn't help myself. It may sound unkind but I burst into laughter. "Mom," I said, "the last time you attempted to cook anything was four or five years ago, it was a pumpkin pie for a family Thanksgiving dinner and you couldn't concentrate long enough to follow the recipe on the can label!"
"Well," she said slyly, "I wasn't planning on using recipes."
My laughter ratcheted up a notch. "Yeow, Mom! That scares me even more!"
She laughed. Knowingly.
"Mom, I think I'm going to end up doing Christmas as though it was a regular day. I know you'll probably mind, but, damn, I just don't have it in me to do someone else's idea of Christmas, this year."
"No, I suppose not," she conceded. "Well, anything you fix will be good. It always is."
That's when it occurred to me. "Mom, I wouldn't mind making that tomato sausage biscuit pie. You like that, right?"
"Absolutely. Sounds good!"
"And it's red and green, it looks like Christmas."
"You're right, it does."
"O.K. I think I'm up for that. I'll have to go back to Costco and get one of those two pound containers of grape tomatoes. Those are the only good ones around right now. And Parmesan. We've been out of the shredded kind for awhile."
"Would you mind picking up one of those cheesecakes, then?"
Cagey woman. The discussion ended there. Nap time.
The tomato biscuit pie is labor intensive but it's more my style than a slab of meat. It smells so good while it's baking, all that basil. I'd been thinking lately about springing one on my mother again, anyway. May as well do it on Christmas. Yes, if I can manage to sneak to Costco while that mean little elf is preoccupied maybe I'll pick up a cheesecake.
I suppose, too, I'll remind my mother on Saturday that it's Christmas.
I could use some snow...the weather report is predicting sunshine and temperatures in the mid 50's. No rain or snow until the following Monday and Tuesday. Maybe I can call that storm here earlier. I hope so. That would make my day.
I awoke from a dismemberment dream. It wasn't scary, wasn't a bad dream. Although I have no idea what dismemberment dreams classically mean, I think I know how this one came about. The dream featured me looking for and finally locating someone to lop off my left hand. Somehow in my sleep I'd managed to assault my "compassion crick" left thumb (which hasn't shown any signs of healing), painfully locking it. I awoke from the dream as I, equally painfully, straightened the offending knuckle out of the lock. Immediately upon awaking, remembering the dream, it occurred to me that, considering how intense the pain is when this happens, it's possible that the discomfort of a phantom hand would be more easily endured than this.
Despite this things went well for awhile. I awoke early, visited the natural foods store where I purchase Mom's 100% aloe vera gel and one of Mom's iron supplements, had a crazy conversation with a guy about talking the automatic door open, which added a touch of whimsy to the day, and headed home determined to get Mom up and out. It was, by the way, a cloudy morning, which always buoys my spirit. I also tend to forget that the opposite happens for Mom; at least until I awaken her and notice she's dragging. Today, it seems, was going to be another "Why get up?" day for her. Disappointment eluded me, though. Today was Pick up a Pork Roast at Costco Day, whether or not she accompanied me.
I'm not sure what happened between the time I set Mom up with several episodes on Animal Planet of That's My Baby and the time I set foot on the pavement at Costco. I had even remembered to take my iPod and set it on a playlist loaded with upbeat, soaring music. Before I showed my card at the door I was being shadowed by dread. They had their pumpkin cheesecakes on display and my normal reaction is to stow one in my cart. Although my mother doesn't like pumpkin pie, she loves their pumpkin cheesecake. So do I. Couldn't work up the enthusiasm. Then I noticed I was going around the outside perimeter in order to avoid the sampling kiosks specifically so I wouldn't have to participate in conversation. When I discovered that Costco was out of the small pork roasts they had a few days ago I noticed a mean little elf inside me dancing a gleeful jig. That's it, I decided, I obviously am not interested in preparing Christmas dinner. In fact, I couldn't remember why I became momentarily enthused about it in the first place. Must have been guilt, I decided. Well, to hell with that. I'm not going to try to fool myself into thinking I'm interested in putting on a Christmas Show for anyone.
When I arrived home I announced to Mom that I'd changed my mind about Christmas dinner. I knew what I wanted this year in the way of celebration. Nothing. That's the way I was going to play it out.
Mom didn't seem disappointed although she asked, "Not even dessert?!?"
"We've got those muffins, Mom, we'll continue to have those, off and on, until they're gone."
"Well," she said, "I was thinking about that cheesecake, you don't have to make that..."
I tell you, the woman is uncanny. This happens often between us: One of us will be thinking of something relatively obscure and the other one will announce it. "I don't know," I said. "That would mean another trip to Costco, and Christmas is Saturday, and it's Tuesday, now...I don't know..."
"I can make Christmas dinner," she offered.
I couldn't help myself. It may sound unkind but I burst into laughter. "Mom," I said, "the last time you attempted to cook anything was four or five years ago, it was a pumpkin pie for a family Thanksgiving dinner and you couldn't concentrate long enough to follow the recipe on the can label!"
"Well," she said slyly, "I wasn't planning on using recipes."
My laughter ratcheted up a notch. "Yeow, Mom! That scares me even more!"
She laughed. Knowingly.
"Mom, I think I'm going to end up doing Christmas as though it was a regular day. I know you'll probably mind, but, damn, I just don't have it in me to do someone else's idea of Christmas, this year."
"No, I suppose not," she conceded. "Well, anything you fix will be good. It always is."
That's when it occurred to me. "Mom, I wouldn't mind making that tomato sausage biscuit pie. You like that, right?"
"Absolutely. Sounds good!"
"And it's red and green, it looks like Christmas."
"You're right, it does."
"O.K. I think I'm up for that. I'll have to go back to Costco and get one of those two pound containers of grape tomatoes. Those are the only good ones around right now. And Parmesan. We've been out of the shredded kind for awhile."
"Would you mind picking up one of those cheesecakes, then?"
Cagey woman. The discussion ended there. Nap time.
The tomato biscuit pie is labor intensive but it's more my style than a slab of meat. It smells so good while it's baking, all that basil. I'd been thinking lately about springing one on my mother again, anyway. May as well do it on Christmas. Yes, if I can manage to sneak to Costco while that mean little elf is preoccupied maybe I'll pick up a cheesecake.
I suppose, too, I'll remind my mother on Saturday that it's Christmas.
I could use some snow...the weather report is predicting sunshine and temperatures in the mid 50's. No rain or snow until the following Monday and Tuesday. Maybe I can call that storm here earlier. I hope so. That would make my day.
