who is speaking to me again, by the way. After the congestive heart failure brouhaha--during which I called several times to check in on her well-being--she just up and called me last Sunday, and we both pretended nothing had happened. We also carefully avoided (mostly) the subject of my work and my well-being. Hey, whatever; I've realized that my relationship with my mother is the most unhealthy relationship in my life, in that I wouldn't put up with the kind of crap I get from her from anyone else, but I've also become largely (though not completely) immune to it. I can't change her behavior, I can only change my reaction to it.
But that's not my point here.
I managed to score a ride to Whole Paycheck yesterday, so I could shop for groceries without worrying about how to get them all home. I do this about once a month, which seems to be sufficient. It makes for a whopping bill, not least because there's almost always a couple of higher-ticket items, but I've budgeted for it, so it's not a big surprise, either. So yesterday, Newman Os
were on sale, including the ginger ones, which make me swoon. I stocked up: one of the original ones, one with chocolate instead of cream filling, and four (yes, four) of the ginger ones. I figure I'd've bought them anyway, and 70 cents off per pack was sufficient impetus to stock up in a marginally serious way (which is the mother-channeling portion of the program). I bought a bottle of olive oil, without which I probably could have done, despite tonight's pesto-making operation; pine nuts, of which I bought about twice what I needed for the pesto-making; laundry detergent; two bottles of body lotion, because my skin sucks that stuff in all winter; and a lot of frozen veggies (broccoli and spinach, if you want to know). I managed to bypass most of the fresh produce, except for some bagged salad that was on sale: I know, but still have to keep reminding myself, that I can go ahead and BUY that fresh bit of something, but the likelihood that I'll use it before it turns into a science project is pretty low. I might as well take some cash and set it on fire.
Yesterday I got my basil: I deputized (and gave $30 to) one of the guys who works in the bakery and who was working the farmers' market yesterday. He bought the basil--and I'm here to tell you that $30 doesn't buy nearly as much basil as it used to do--and gave it to our delivery guy, who picked it up when he picked up the rest of the stuff left over from our stand at the market and brought it back to the bakery with him. And, yes, I made pizza yesterday.
We have a new crop of help in the bakery, and one of the kids is tall, cute, and Mexican--and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was flirting with me a little. Not in any big-time way, mind you, but the vibe is kinda there. It's amusing, not least because I am old enough to be his mother--or even his grandmother, depending on how old he actually is. I suspect he doesn't know how old I am, either. And, hey, maybe I can get him to teach me Spanish. Between him and the friend who took me shopping last night (who is bilingual and who may be able to get me some teaching tapes), who knows, maybe I'll be able to pick out more than every fifth (or twenty-fifth) word. If I (a) learned the verb forms and (b) picked up some vocabulary, I'd probably be on my way, and I suspect the guys at the bakery would be entertained by my efforts and would be helpful.
Today, despite the nice weather, I chained myself to my computer and hacked away at one of the proposals I'm writing. It's a challenge, not least because I don't know this new agency very well, plus one of my contacts will be on vacation this coming week, which is when I have to do the bulk of the work. I'm a little worried, actually: I have to work next weekend, so I can do that bread class (which could have been more inconveniently timed, but not by much) the following week, and these things all have to be written by the 25th or so. I think some sleep will be lost along the way.
Things about my apartment that kinda suck, now that I've lived here awhile: There's no radiator in the bathroom, which is the only room in which I typically want a radiator. Plus, the window in the shower is going to need shrink-wrapping, because cold air kind of comes through there into the shower
, which really won't do. The apartment shares a wall with the stairwell, which can be loud. The walls and ceiling look like they have measles, thanks to water damage--but I expect they'll fix that.
As long as I'm complaining, I have to bitch about my uterus, which, with its fibroid-laden self, is making me extremely peevish; the near-constant spotting is just annoying beyond belief. It seems that there's some kind of estrogen surge right before menopause, and, since estrogen makes fibroids grow (and the lack of estrogen makes them shrink), I think that I'm in the middle of that surge. And, of course, the fibroids are, indeed, one of the conditions that seems to be making me difficult to insure, even though (a) I've been treated for them, and (b) once I hit menopause, they'll shrink pretty dramatically. Insurance companies suck, and not in a good way. I have to solve this insurance problem, but it's going to have to wait a couple of weeks, given the current schedule. Feh. Single-payer system, I want you now!