When she is under the weather,
a sultry temptress emerges
That deep, raspy, masculine voice
like a grandmother who smokes 3 packs a day
sends shivers down any man's spine
And her lips
chapped and swollen from frequent encounters with a box of Kleenex
could you ever desire a more succulent pair of kissable rose petals?
Her face
as white as kindergarten paste
speckled with the crimson of fever
and the blood vessels that surface
after repeated coughing fits
reminds me of a fresh blanket of snow
covered by tiny red cardinals
picking away for their dinner
The lackluster of her eyes
blue tides washed away
in sleepless nights
and drowning in an overdose of Nyquil
They stare vacantly
and she's naked and open as a clean blackboard
Her sweet aroma
stimulates every sense
the stinging of the metholatum
the pinch of eucalyptis
the fire of Robutussin
burns between us as we speak
She moves gracefully
like an old gray mare
too tired to fight her imprisionment any longer
slowly
very slowly
she glides
on a pillow of antihistamine
from work to lunch to work to home to her couch and her bed and her pillow
She's a vision in the slumber of illness
her ruby lips parted
the consistent drone of congested breath
like a songbird on a busy spring morning
She splays herself fully on her resting spot
throws caution to the wind
and lets the cats lie where they may
Magnet of animal attraction
the sensual princess of head colds sleeps
28.12.04
The Unanticipated, Highly Biased & Entirely Unofficial Best of … 2004
Lately, I have actually had the time to sit down and read the last couple of week’s worth of Star Tribune, Rake, New York Times, Onion, City Pages, and just about any other free or left-behind publication that I can get my nothing-beats-free hands on. While catching up on my culture, international geopolitics, and foibles of that madcap Dilbert, it has become apparent that anyone with a computer and propensity to enjoy viewing their own indiscriminate ramblings in print can, indeed, publish a Best of … list.
That being said, and with the caveat that I am completely biased and limited to my simple experiences as a longtime urban Minnesota resident, enjoy. I have unabashedly decided what can be labeled “Cream of the Crop” over the last 12 months (and what a random way to rank the stuff I love, anyway.)
Happy reading, or wiping the gum off your shoe, or whatever you choose to do with these, the best things to come out of 2004 (in my incredibly humble opinion):
Music
2004, while perhaps not a banner year for the music industry, was indeed a banner year for my CD collection. With the advent of a CD player making is re-debut in my home last January, and a systematic organization of CDs following quick on its heels, I realized (a bit painfully) that I hadn’t done my due diligence in musical purchases, since, oh… April of 1997. The lack of music from this decade not only catapulted me into a purchasing frenzy, it also lit the fuse that ignited a year of sgh re-definition.
But enough about my quarter-life crisis. I plunged headlong into a scavenger hunt to define into what my tastes had now evolved. Thank God for a halfway decent alternative radio station, for Dave’s willingness to rip CD after CD after CD, for Sara Camerer’s moderating influence, and for the Killers.
After first hearing “Somebody Told Me” and questioning my ability to drive AND dance simultaneously, I realized that this song had to be at my house. And, it wasn’t at all what I thought I liked.
The entire CD is one big, guitar-laden, sparkling lyric that speaks to what 2004 meant to me. Hot Fuss belongs in everyone’s collection; if you don’t have it, ask me and I’d happily oblige to get your very own copy.
Way to spend half your paycheck
While I’ve known about IKEA for a few years now (Thanks, Barbara!), summer of 2004 offered a special chance for celebration: the Twin Cities very own IKEA. Really, it’s nice to have the Swedish Mecca just down the road (as opposed to making my Chicagoan friends or acquaintances who mention passing through Schaumberg stop and pick up my latest list of wishful thinking…).
And, while I would not find it at all hard to blow a week’s salary on jars, ergonomic chairs and redecorating Paige’s bedroom in a Swedish hedgehog motif, it would take some effort. I heart IKEA. It is the definitive best way to drop a wad of cash (or max out the MasterCard, take your pick.)
Bad thing that turned out to be good
I cannot decide which bad turned good is better, so I am nominating two as a tie:
To be honest, I had to resist the temptation to nominate John’s employment situation through most of this year. However, that TECHNICALLY started in late 2003, so that scenario was quickly DQ-ed. However, there was no drought of bad news this year. My friend Di started out the year with a divorce. Good times. And, although we’ll always have the memories of le divorce, it’s (yee haw) over now, and Di has actually grown by leaps and bounds this year (amazingly, so has our friendship.) Best of all, we learned together that the best way out is through (borrowed from Robert Frost).
Just in the middle of Di’s divorce drama, Sara Camerer got some gross news of her own: Target Corporation was selling Mervyn’s, and closing the Twin Cities stores. At the end of July, she would be out of a job. This was a big cloud with an even bigger silver lining. Sara ended up contracting with yours truly most of the latter half of the year, and 2005 has promise for more big money, be-your-own-boss fun.
Culinary experience
Now, at the risk of sounding my own horn, I am voting Friends Thanksgiving 2004 best culinary experience of the year (remember, I’m inherently biased…)
Not only is my husband one helluva cook, he is also an amazing host and partner. I love making huge meals with him. I love when 20 people come to eat. I love when we can all drink too much, laugh until it hurts, and whine about the next morning’s Haggerty Hangover.
Hands down: Haggerty dinner parties rule. I resolve to have more of them in 2005.
Movie
Painfully, I haven’t been to the movie theater since before Paige was born. Hence, the best movies I’ve seen this year haven’t been on the silver screen.
What has resurrected any interest in movies is the delightfully simple Netflix service. So, I’ve managed to catch up on my movie rentals and FINALLY (yes, finally) get around to watching Trainspotting (which IS fantastic, after all).
(For those of you chortling, gimme a break, will ya? Finding a babysitter on a Friday night is almost as gross as finding the center stone of your engagement ring in the Diaper Genie.)
Simple Pastime
For some reason, 2004 was the year that I picked up all kinds of bad crafting habits. I began scrap booking the life and times of Paige. I taught myself how to knit and made some significant crocheting projects. I even learned how to bead stuff. But my biggest craftorial accomplishment of 2004 was not only learning how to quilt, but making 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Six quilts in one year (including a MASSIVE king-sized purple quilt for my sister’s wedding gift).
Although old-fashioned and normally associated with 70-year-old women, (along with most of my other simple pastimes), Quilting is relaxing and gives me a chance to express creative and artistic energy in a physical end product. I’m real glad Sara got me addicted to this craft (bad influence that she is.) It’s the greatest pastime I’ve participated in this year.
Memorable Moment
Reflecting on the year, my whole life seems so memorable, and at the same time, so far away. It’s hard to pick just one thing that was memorable this year.
So, I’m just going with a memory I’ll tell my grandchildren about with pride:
It’s a hot night in July. I’m starving and thirsty after seeing my very first Man United game (although we lost on penalty kicks and it was more like a U-16 team getting beat up by mean, ugly German men). John parks the car “close” to the pub we are going to hang out at.
He parks on Grand. We need Grant. John doesn’t realize this.
We walk.
And walk.
And walk and walk and walk and walk.
And then, we walk some more.
And finally, after I’m about ready to pass out with exhaustion, heat, and thirst, we make it to Fado, the Irish pub we’re supposed to be at.
We get ushered in to a roped off third floor by the bouncer, and the room is full – FULL of hot, drunk, celebrating Man U fans. I squeeze into the bar, beg for two ciders, hand one off to Sara, and tank mine down like it’s the best, coolest, most purely refreshing drink of water you’ve ever seen. The hunger and dehydration combined with a pint of cider make for a quick buzz. But who cares. I’m singing and dancing with various Brits of all shapes and sizes. I’m shimmying with Jer the Irishman using a red boa. I’m tumbling down a downtown Chicago street into a dueling piano bar. I’m sitting in the bathroom at the piano bar, listening to the piano player talk about my… whhuut?
And again, I’m drinking, singing “She’s Got Breasts”, cavorting with Man U fans, and out the latest I’ve been since college, I’ve rediscovered my own identity and the fact that most 12-year-olds can drink me under the table with ease.
Non-memorable Moment
The story my grandchildren definitely don’t get to hear:
How Jimmy’s heels and Austin’s wicked mixed drinks can erase your memory and make Thanksgiving with Dad and Mum pure torture.
Addicting Habit
John’s been really, really into Man U for a couple of years now. He’s been watching games down at The Local for almost as long.
After the ambience of Chicago this July, I started going to the pub and watching with him, and was promptly hooked. I cannot imagine my weekends now without creamy hashbrowns, the stupid Fox Sports World intro music, and John Cosgrove shouting, “F___ing Wankers!”
Next to caffeine and chocolate, I confirmed another addiction this year: football. Thanks, boys.
Show of creative genius
Sara and I surprised ourselves when, amongst drunken stupor and generally girlish goofiness, a brilliant idea was born: take Dave Herman’s duck, take the duck’s photo in a variety of nonsense situations, and start a blog with a storyline to accompany the photos.
Little did we know that a) Dave would love it, b) it would drive Dave crazy, c) everyone Dave told about it would love it, and d) it would be the center of our existence for an entire month of the year.
We’ll continue Duck’s misadventures, even though Duck Original is back home with Dave. Check us out in the New Year: http://hermansduck.blog.com
Investment vehicle
It doesn’t take a financial genius to figure this one out: I’ve dumped a ton of my cash into the most precious investment available this year.
Her name is Paige, and every penny I spend provides dividends of 1000 times what I invest. I love you, baby girl.
Ol’ Reliable
While ordering office supplies this year, I was in need of pens. Remembering my high school English teacher’s fetish with Flair pens, I ordered 5. And have never been happier.
Want to feel like a million bucks when writing? Buy yourself one flair pen in each of purple, green, red, blue and black. And enjoy the smooth, bold lines of the pen (especially on quadrille paper… but that’s another ol’ reliable).
Big-Huge Life Event
Sweetly enough, both John and I were able to land decent gigs this year. I started my dream job (that’s right, it’s actually the job I’ve trained for and wanted all my professional years; how often does that actually happen…) in March.
John landed a contract gig with Wells Fargo in August, and they like him well enough to keep stringing him along. Perhaps a permanent placement in 2005? Time will tell – and in the meantime, we’re back to multiple W-2s for the 2004 tax year.
Read
Yah, yah, yah… so I still haven’t actually gotten around to reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (it’s on my to-do list, and in my defense, I’m writing this on December 28th…).
However, I discovered the joy and gut-wrenching laughter that is David Sedaris this year. Aside from his cunning wit and ability to write stories that make time spent in South Dakota enjoyable, I admire his brutal honesty, his random observations, and his ability to be candid about what makes an imperfect life, just right how it is.
Fruit of the year
The raspberry bush in the backyard is officially out of control. We were eating fresh raspberries well into October.
Overlooking the seeds in my teeth, I have no complaints.
Technological advance to adapt
Three fantastic technologies to laud this year:
The iPod. Store 4000 of your favorite songs for transportation anywhere, weighing, oh, as much as a fingernail. God bless the good people at Apple (and Bono and crew for partnering up on the special edition… atta boy!)
Blogs. Yah, they’re not new this year, I know. But now I have one (that’s grossly outdated thanks to that damn duck blog). But they are a great creative outlet and a way to keep in touch with friends (and get the occasional thumbs up on your otherwise private writing collection).
Sittercity.com. It’s eHarmony for parents and babysitters. And, it works.
Waste of time watching the tube
America’s Next Top Model. ‘Nuff said.
Coincidental delight
Oddly enough, I deduced that Sara Camerer’s former peer, Randy, is cousins with my longlost (or not so much now) friend from high school, Eric Sanford.
After an exchange of emails, I got to reconnect with Eric (on house arrest, saying “cookie” into the at-home breathalyzer). And so glad I did!
(Eric also made a surprise guest appearance at Dave’s birthday party, which I did not attend… Eric’s like the little smidgen of my past that pops up in the oddest of places. And that’s quite possibly the coolest thing he could ever be.)
Nugget of truth quoted this year
We do not live in a democratic society...we live under a quietly seething dictatorship. (alycia novotny)
Thing to anticipate going into 2005
U2 tour, St. Patrick’s Day, the basement getting finished, grandma and grandpa finally having a shower up at the lake, a trip to Ireland, more surprises, potty training, a few birthdays, friends new and old… and things that I’ll rank at the end of next year, the likes of which I could never even imagine now.
Happy New Year, Kids!
sgh
That being said, and with the caveat that I am completely biased and limited to my simple experiences as a longtime urban Minnesota resident, enjoy. I have unabashedly decided what can be labeled “Cream of the Crop” over the last 12 months (and what a random way to rank the stuff I love, anyway.)
Happy reading, or wiping the gum off your shoe, or whatever you choose to do with these, the best things to come out of 2004 (in my incredibly humble opinion):
Music
2004, while perhaps not a banner year for the music industry, was indeed a banner year for my CD collection. With the advent of a CD player making is re-debut in my home last January, and a systematic organization of CDs following quick on its heels, I realized (a bit painfully) that I hadn’t done my due diligence in musical purchases, since, oh… April of 1997. The lack of music from this decade not only catapulted me into a purchasing frenzy, it also lit the fuse that ignited a year of sgh re-definition.
But enough about my quarter-life crisis. I plunged headlong into a scavenger hunt to define into what my tastes had now evolved. Thank God for a halfway decent alternative radio station, for Dave’s willingness to rip CD after CD after CD, for Sara Camerer’s moderating influence, and for the Killers.
After first hearing “Somebody Told Me” and questioning my ability to drive AND dance simultaneously, I realized that this song had to be at my house. And, it wasn’t at all what I thought I liked.
The entire CD is one big, guitar-laden, sparkling lyric that speaks to what 2004 meant to me. Hot Fuss belongs in everyone’s collection; if you don’t have it, ask me and I’d happily oblige to get your very own copy.
Way to spend half your paycheck
While I’ve known about IKEA for a few years now (Thanks, Barbara!), summer of 2004 offered a special chance for celebration: the Twin Cities very own IKEA. Really, it’s nice to have the Swedish Mecca just down the road (as opposed to making my Chicagoan friends or acquaintances who mention passing through Schaumberg stop and pick up my latest list of wishful thinking…).
And, while I would not find it at all hard to blow a week’s salary on jars, ergonomic chairs and redecorating Paige’s bedroom in a Swedish hedgehog motif, it would take some effort. I heart IKEA. It is the definitive best way to drop a wad of cash (or max out the MasterCard, take your pick.)
Bad thing that turned out to be good
I cannot decide which bad turned good is better, so I am nominating two as a tie:
To be honest, I had to resist the temptation to nominate John’s employment situation through most of this year. However, that TECHNICALLY started in late 2003, so that scenario was quickly DQ-ed. However, there was no drought of bad news this year. My friend Di started out the year with a divorce. Good times. And, although we’ll always have the memories of le divorce, it’s (yee haw) over now, and Di has actually grown by leaps and bounds this year (amazingly, so has our friendship.) Best of all, we learned together that the best way out is through (borrowed from Robert Frost).
Just in the middle of Di’s divorce drama, Sara Camerer got some gross news of her own: Target Corporation was selling Mervyn’s, and closing the Twin Cities stores. At the end of July, she would be out of a job. This was a big cloud with an even bigger silver lining. Sara ended up contracting with yours truly most of the latter half of the year, and 2005 has promise for more big money, be-your-own-boss fun.
Culinary experience
Now, at the risk of sounding my own horn, I am voting Friends Thanksgiving 2004 best culinary experience of the year (remember, I’m inherently biased…)
Not only is my husband one helluva cook, he is also an amazing host and partner. I love making huge meals with him. I love when 20 people come to eat. I love when we can all drink too much, laugh until it hurts, and whine about the next morning’s Haggerty Hangover.
Hands down: Haggerty dinner parties rule. I resolve to have more of them in 2005.
Movie
Painfully, I haven’t been to the movie theater since before Paige was born. Hence, the best movies I’ve seen this year haven’t been on the silver screen.
What has resurrected any interest in movies is the delightfully simple Netflix service. So, I’ve managed to catch up on my movie rentals and FINALLY (yes, finally) get around to watching Trainspotting (which IS fantastic, after all).
(For those of you chortling, gimme a break, will ya? Finding a babysitter on a Friday night is almost as gross as finding the center stone of your engagement ring in the Diaper Genie.)
Simple Pastime
For some reason, 2004 was the year that I picked up all kinds of bad crafting habits. I began scrap booking the life and times of Paige. I taught myself how to knit and made some significant crocheting projects. I even learned how to bead stuff. But my biggest craftorial accomplishment of 2004 was not only learning how to quilt, but making 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Six quilts in one year (including a MASSIVE king-sized purple quilt for my sister’s wedding gift).
Although old-fashioned and normally associated with 70-year-old women, (along with most of my other simple pastimes), Quilting is relaxing and gives me a chance to express creative and artistic energy in a physical end product. I’m real glad Sara got me addicted to this craft (bad influence that she is.) It’s the greatest pastime I’ve participated in this year.
Memorable Moment
Reflecting on the year, my whole life seems so memorable, and at the same time, so far away. It’s hard to pick just one thing that was memorable this year.
So, I’m just going with a memory I’ll tell my grandchildren about with pride:
It’s a hot night in July. I’m starving and thirsty after seeing my very first Man United game (although we lost on penalty kicks and it was more like a U-16 team getting beat up by mean, ugly German men). John parks the car “close” to the pub we are going to hang out at.
He parks on Grand. We need Grant. John doesn’t realize this.
We walk.
And walk.
And walk and walk and walk and walk.
And then, we walk some more.
And finally, after I’m about ready to pass out with exhaustion, heat, and thirst, we make it to Fado, the Irish pub we’re supposed to be at.
We get ushered in to a roped off third floor by the bouncer, and the room is full – FULL of hot, drunk, celebrating Man U fans. I squeeze into the bar, beg for two ciders, hand one off to Sara, and tank mine down like it’s the best, coolest, most purely refreshing drink of water you’ve ever seen. The hunger and dehydration combined with a pint of cider make for a quick buzz. But who cares. I’m singing and dancing with various Brits of all shapes and sizes. I’m shimmying with Jer the Irishman using a red boa. I’m tumbling down a downtown Chicago street into a dueling piano bar. I’m sitting in the bathroom at the piano bar, listening to the piano player talk about my… whhuut?
And again, I’m drinking, singing “She’s Got Breasts”, cavorting with Man U fans, and out the latest I’ve been since college, I’ve rediscovered my own identity and the fact that most 12-year-olds can drink me under the table with ease.
Non-memorable Moment
The story my grandchildren definitely don’t get to hear:
How Jimmy’s heels and Austin’s wicked mixed drinks can erase your memory and make Thanksgiving with Dad and Mum pure torture.
Addicting Habit
John’s been really, really into Man U for a couple of years now. He’s been watching games down at The Local for almost as long.
After the ambience of Chicago this July, I started going to the pub and watching with him, and was promptly hooked. I cannot imagine my weekends now without creamy hashbrowns, the stupid Fox Sports World intro music, and John Cosgrove shouting, “F___ing Wankers!”
Next to caffeine and chocolate, I confirmed another addiction this year: football. Thanks, boys.
Show of creative genius
Sara and I surprised ourselves when, amongst drunken stupor and generally girlish goofiness, a brilliant idea was born: take Dave Herman’s duck, take the duck’s photo in a variety of nonsense situations, and start a blog with a storyline to accompany the photos.
Little did we know that a) Dave would love it, b) it would drive Dave crazy, c) everyone Dave told about it would love it, and d) it would be the center of our existence for an entire month of the year.
We’ll continue Duck’s misadventures, even though Duck Original is back home with Dave. Check us out in the New Year: http://hermansduck.blog.com
Investment vehicle
It doesn’t take a financial genius to figure this one out: I’ve dumped a ton of my cash into the most precious investment available this year.
Her name is Paige, and every penny I spend provides dividends of 1000 times what I invest. I love you, baby girl.
Ol’ Reliable
While ordering office supplies this year, I was in need of pens. Remembering my high school English teacher’s fetish with Flair pens, I ordered 5. And have never been happier.
Want to feel like a million bucks when writing? Buy yourself one flair pen in each of purple, green, red, blue and black. And enjoy the smooth, bold lines of the pen (especially on quadrille paper… but that’s another ol’ reliable).
Big-Huge Life Event
Sweetly enough, both John and I were able to land decent gigs this year. I started my dream job (that’s right, it’s actually the job I’ve trained for and wanted all my professional years; how often does that actually happen…) in March.
John landed a contract gig with Wells Fargo in August, and they like him well enough to keep stringing him along. Perhaps a permanent placement in 2005? Time will tell – and in the meantime, we’re back to multiple W-2s for the 2004 tax year.
Read
Yah, yah, yah… so I still haven’t actually gotten around to reading Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (it’s on my to-do list, and in my defense, I’m writing this on December 28th…).
However, I discovered the joy and gut-wrenching laughter that is David Sedaris this year. Aside from his cunning wit and ability to write stories that make time spent in South Dakota enjoyable, I admire his brutal honesty, his random observations, and his ability to be candid about what makes an imperfect life, just right how it is.
Fruit of the year
The raspberry bush in the backyard is officially out of control. We were eating fresh raspberries well into October.
Overlooking the seeds in my teeth, I have no complaints.
Technological advance to adapt
Three fantastic technologies to laud this year:
The iPod. Store 4000 of your favorite songs for transportation anywhere, weighing, oh, as much as a fingernail. God bless the good people at Apple (and Bono and crew for partnering up on the special edition… atta boy!)
Blogs. Yah, they’re not new this year, I know. But now I have one (that’s grossly outdated thanks to that damn duck blog). But they are a great creative outlet and a way to keep in touch with friends (and get the occasional thumbs up on your otherwise private writing collection).
Sittercity.com. It’s eHarmony for parents and babysitters. And, it works.
Waste of time watching the tube
America’s Next Top Model. ‘Nuff said.
Coincidental delight
Oddly enough, I deduced that Sara Camerer’s former peer, Randy, is cousins with my longlost (or not so much now) friend from high school, Eric Sanford.
After an exchange of emails, I got to reconnect with Eric (on house arrest, saying “cookie” into the at-home breathalyzer). And so glad I did!
(Eric also made a surprise guest appearance at Dave’s birthday party, which I did not attend… Eric’s like the little smidgen of my past that pops up in the oddest of places. And that’s quite possibly the coolest thing he could ever be.)
Nugget of truth quoted this year
We do not live in a democratic society...we live under a quietly seething dictatorship. (alycia novotny)
Thing to anticipate going into 2005
U2 tour, St. Patrick’s Day, the basement getting finished, grandma and grandpa finally having a shower up at the lake, a trip to Ireland, more surprises, potty training, a few birthdays, friends new and old… and things that I’ll rank at the end of next year, the likes of which I could never even imagine now.
Happy New Year, Kids!
sgh
14.12.04
the reason why annual reviews drive me to the bottle
Decidedly, those who call ourselves writers are a weird bunch.
I sit here, angsting over whether or not I have “met expectations†over the last 9 months. Expectations outlined by me, by others, by the business world.
The expectation that I really want to meet doesn’t pay the mortgage. It doesn’t whittle away the balance of my student loans, many of which paid for classes that were enlightening but not necessarily applicable to writing assessment questions at a 5th grade level for a group of adults who just learned how to negotiate higher payments from the man who is unemployed, divorced and about to go bleed out in the bathtub.
Weird, that I get paid to do something I love, and something that I don’t understand.
And, weird that what I find pure and good and beautiful and infinitely complex and profound can also be twisted into something perverse and mundane and simple, something that can be objectified by an Access Database and four measly key result areas.
I am the artist who revels in creative genius and doubts my own in predictably regular intervals. I am the designer who recoils at the mention of effective project management and strives whole-heartedly to achieve it.
I write succinct, profound, elegant prose. I write instructions on how to key a memo into a DOS-based computer system.
I get up at 3 in the morning to write lyrics to songs and scribble in eighth notes on blank lined music sheets. I get up again at 6:30 to put on mascara and respectable khakis and sell my soul for medical and dental coverage.
I find aesthetic pleasure in the unlimited potential of an unmarred spiral notebook. I find myself at a loss to reconcile myself to the tower of Post-it notes and cube wall-papered in Excel spreadsheets it sit in 40 hours each week.
Where does art and reality intersect? Am I just questioning my existence, my place in the corporate world and my fit in the realm of lasting art? When will the writer and the breadwinner reconcile?
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