Meet Me On My Vast Verandah

I did it. Don’t be a lazy ass. Update your links and your bloglines now.

When I was in Italy I had no Wordpress worries. 

I tried to post this morning, really I did. But I ended up having a hissy fit because…oh,

God, it’s just too complicated to explain. I think what it boils down to is: I’m too stupid to have a blog on anything other than a platform for complete idiots because I don’t understand how to manage it or download new versions or whatever.

I suppose I could call Wordpress and talk to their support people. But I will feel stuuuuuuuupid.

So don’t be surprised if you come back here tomorrow and find out that I have moved. I will leave my new url, of course. Does this mean I’ll lose all my comments?

I don’t even care. I just want to start all over.

This is how I felt at the staff meeting.

I know we all despise Monday (we do, don’t we?), but I believe that my Monday is worse than your Monday. It’s my long day with no break for Music or Art or PE, and today we had an emergency team meeting during lunch/recess because of blah-blah-blah, and then as soon as the kids were dismissed we had to go to a staff meeting.

When you go to a staff meeting, do you ever look around for sharp instruments that you could use to put yourself out of your misery? I do. I didn’t find any, but I did find the snack table, which was laden with unhealthy food. I made 3 trips to that table during the course of the staff meeting. Death by cheese and chocolate.
Eventually I was able to go home, where I promptly collapsed on my bed for about an hour. I am completely, fully aware of how incredibly unencumbered I am with children who need my attention once I get home. So don’t be thinking how easy my life is. I put in my time back in the day, people! And it was hellish!

By this point in the post, you have probably figured out that I don’t really have anything to say. True, my friends, very true. BUT. I am trying to get back in the routine of posting more regularly so you will just have to play along and think of something to say in the comments section, because your job is to jolly me along.

I did have some sort of a point before I started writing. Something about how I have gotten off-track again with the whole self-care regimen. I’m waking up too early, working long hours, going to bed late, and not exercising. I suck-diddly-uck, Flanders.

So, as soon as I hit the publish button here, I am going to bed to read my Gypsy book and relax.

Oh wait, did you want to hear about my urologist appointment on Friday? He said he’s NEVER seen a pelvic floor in worse shape. Kidding. But I have to go back next week for a cystoscopy, then he and my gynecologist will plan their assault.

A British tourist giving money to a Gypsy.

I have a policy of giving money out to street people who ask me for it. Not 100% of the time, but probably 75% of the time. I have a whole rationale for this that I am not going to go into right now.

When we were in Italy I was oddly uncomfortable about it. We saw a lot of Gypsies. Almost always women, often with babies. They would approach us in train stations or bus stations and ask for money. The baby always needed medicine or was hungry. We had been warned so much about them that I felt like a sucker if I gave them money, so I didn’t.

In Rome, in the shadow of the Vatican, there were a lot of beggars who would lie prostrate with a little dish in front of them with a picture of Jesus. A few of them had horrible physical deformities that they would display.

Near the Vatican. 

Sometimes we saw “regular” homeless people that looked the ones I was familiar with back home.

I felt uncomfortable snapping pictures of them, but I did anyway. Because, well, I don’t know. I am interested in stuff like that. I was more interested in the people than in the buildings. And I always gave money to anyone whose picture I took. GUILT MONEY.

Regular homeless guy with cute dog that I patted.

Anyway, I was really intrigued by the Gypsies because they seem to be universally despised and distrusted. The sum total of my knowledge about Gypsies comes from that Cher song. You know. “Every night all the men would come around, and lay their money down BOM BOM BOM”

So I got a book called Bury Me Standing: The Gypsies and Their Journey by Isabel Fonseca. I’m about halfway through. It’s a really interesting read; well-written and detailed but not deadly dull.

They are more properly referred to as the Roma people. They speak a language called Romany (nothing to do with Romania by the way, which is confusing because there are lots of Gypsies in Romania). Originally they came from India in the 9th or 10th century. Today they live all over the world, but mostly in Europe. The Roma culture is unique and has been remarkably preserved despite cruel persecution in every country they have ever lived in. For the most part, they are illiterate and marginalized and desperately poor. They were the only group besides Jews who were marked by Nazi Germany for extinction based solely on their ethnicity. More than 500,000 of them perished in concentration camps and mass executions. The Roma people call it The Devouring, which is such a sad, poetic description.

Anyway, I recommend the book if you are into that kind of stuff. Especially if you are planning any travel in Europe, because you will look at Gypsies differently.

I’m just saying.

Evangeline is the person I am copying when I use random song lyrics as titles for my posts. I’m sure she didn’t invent this practice, but I enjoy the hell out of it anyway. She often uses lyrics or poetry as subject lines for the email she sends. Her missives –small gems, all of them– come with tags like Nina, clouds blot out the moon or Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay. One of my recent favorites was Furious they assailed us.

That last one was a forlorn email, actually. After listing the reasons that she was downcast — and they were all very legitimate — she suggested that we send some toys to cheer her up. Parents of semi-independent college students live for shit like that. Josh and I went out on a mad shopping mission and bought a boatload of stuff at Toys R Us. Silly Putty, Connect 4, bubbles, Floam, a Magic 8 Ball, etc. We bought a lot of stuff, and some of it was bulky. Perhaps we went overboard. Josh was so intent on this operation that he wanted me to send it Overnight Express, but I couldn’t bring myself to pay almost $100 for shipping. So I sent it 2nd Day Air and paid about $80. And I felt very virtuous and thrifty. See, that’s funny, because — oh never mind.

Evangeline’s birthday present was also included in the box. It was a lovely skirt and tank top and jacket that I bought for her in Italy. She says that it fits, and she likes it, but I won’t really know if it was right until I see her wear it. I think that I am good at picking out clothes that she likes, so I have my fingers crossed that she is telling the truth and not just trying to spare my feelings.

***

So, Mother’s Day is coming up. I always tell my kids and my husband not to get me anything for Mother’s Day. Just cook something so I don’t have to. And a funny homemade card is always appreciated. (Sasha’s card a couple of years ago featured a big “Guess what, Mom?” and a hand-drawn pregnancy test kit stick with a positive result and “Just kidding!” on the inside of the card. Oh, she’s a pistol.)

Anyway, this year I have decided that I want an actual thing for Mother’s Day. Something that would make up for all those sleepless nights AND the damage to my pelvic floor. Yup, I want an iPod. And one of those things that you stick it into. With the speakers. What are those called again?