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Just Jen
Careful with the pretty things

Monday, January 30, 2006
It was an Emily Mortimer weekend for us. No, it was really more than that; we just happened to see two movies starring the actress and it prompted me to describe the weekend as such.


I'm not sure how we managed to go to the cinema two weekends in a row, but we did and Saturday we saw Match Point. It's good, on a number of levels, and is unlike previous Woody Allen films that I've seen. And oh, Ms. Mortimer also starred in Dear Frankie, which we rented this weekend. I recommend both but don't much feel like going into a total movie review post or anything.


What made me think of all this was reading the smussyolay and the Damien Rice lyrics she posted, and the fact that I was just talking to B last night (in the middle of Dear Frankie) about where my CD is. Apparently, it's mixed in with his, which brings up the whole other issue of mixing things. Even though I'm married and all, I still don't like the meshing of things.


And I digress. The song Delicate was in Dear Frankie, which provides me with an excuse to post a small bit of lyrics now. See, I deserve to because I live in America, and because I have streaming thoughts today, and because I woke up late and spilled my soda all over my car seat as I was getting in for my morning commute. Because I deserve to do so and also, because I do not.


we might kiss
when we are alone
when nobody's watchin'
we might take it home
we might make out
when nobody's there
it's not that we're scared
it's just that it's delicate


Friday, January 27, 2006
Today's post is all about the food ... how I can't get enough lately and prefer to consume only things that are made of, with, or are covered in, chocolate. I've gained a couple of pounds and am about to start a diet after I eat absolutely everything I can possibly shove in my mouth.


Apparently I'm successfully teaching my son the art of shoving. I'm about to tell you what the kid ate for dinner last night. I'm aware that you likely have no interest but will share this information anyway. Seriously, my 15-month-old boy ate three chicken nuggets, a jar of vegetable turkey dinner, a jar of green beans, mashed potatoes, a roll and a whole banana, followed by a handful of banana cookie squares. People, this is a lot of food for a toddler, though I think I ate the equivalent grown-up portion at lunch today.


Tomorrow I'm meeting someone for breakfast so I'll start my day with a very large meal, and I'm fairly certain I won't begin a diet. What's the best day of the week for starting a diet anyway? I'm partial to Mondays, but sometimes Monday is enough of a shock to the system without having to also endure snack deprivation.


Cheers for Friday. I must focus on today, the coming weekend and (of course) the variety of my weekend menu. I will worry about fitting into my jeans next week.


Monday, January 23, 2006
Saturday night was the first night in nearly three months that I spent away from Ryder. I was wishy-washy about it from the get-go. Should he stay overnight at my mom's or should we just pick him up after our movie? I didn't even make a decision until about 5:30 that evening. I should have planned and prepared for it better, but I didn't realize it would be as big of a deal as it ended up being.


Once we got home, after the movie, I couldn't relax and didn't know what to do with myself. What does one do when there is not a child sleeping in the next room who might wake up or kick the blanket off and get cold? One calls one's mother and asks for a detailed report on the child's breathing pattern.


My mother didn't understand my anxiety -- I didn't understand my anxiety -- but she filled me in on everything Ryder had done from the time we left her house until the point at which I called. She assured me he was fine. He went down for bed just fine. If he woke up at some point in the night and was inconsolable, she'd bring him home. She promised. And yes, Jennifer, it's absolutely safe to leave the crock pot on all night; it's not going to start a fire. Stop worrying.


After the call, I felt better. I ran myself a bath (another thing I hadn't done in months), caught the end of SNL, took a sleep aid and went to bed.


Friday, January 20, 2006
I got side-tracked already -- so early in the year! But I'm not off course and will catch up here later.


Simon said:
"Breakdowns come and breakdowns go.
What are you going to do about it?
That's what I'd like to know."


-- Paul Simon


I'm still on course, even though I lost my voice earlier this week. Guess what? My voice came back, which proves it is mine forever.


Monday, January 09, 2006
I don't know what's with my kid lately. Last week we experienced what I hope isn't a recurring stretch of days that I might refer to as a "Tantrum Week," but I also know that we haven't even begun to see full on, terrible-two tantrums at this point. I'm not sure what sparked it; perhaps he's angry about the whole draggin' him to Ohio thing, where the temperature was much lower and there were crowds of family that included 13 cousins.


Actually, Ryder didn't mind the kids at all; that was when he was most pleasant. It was bedtime that was difficult, and the days when it was just his grandma and B and I at the house until grandpa and uncle S arrived home. Those days he clung with determination to my legs. Perhaps there weren't enough distractions and he feared we were going somewhere without him. At any rate, it was a whippin' feeling unable to walk from one room to another. That kid has a grip on my heart that rivals the one on my legs, and his clinging makes me feel as if walking from the living room to the kitchen will scar him for life.


But I had this moment while visiting. There, in the home my husband grew up in, the home my in-laws have lived in for 32 years, there was a moment when my mother-in-law and I connected. She wanted to show me some old pictures of B and his six brothers, so I grabbed Ryder and the three of us went upstairs where she pulled open a drawer full of photos. Not only were there pictures of the boys, there were pictures from her wedding. She and my father-in-law have been married for 44 years; they were so young in the photos. I looked at that girl in the picture and realized we could have been friends.


Meanwhile Ryder's running around the room, picking up the loose photos and putting one here, one there. He hands one to me, then hands one to grandma. Picture browsing was getting difficult about the time my father-in-law arrived home and came looking for us.


He had with him one delicious iced Christmas cookie -- the better with which to lure the grandchild downstairs. Once there, grandpa put on the Hank Snow record I'd bought him for Christmas. He and Ryder listened to music and played for quite some time. From Hank Snow album to Johnny Cash album, I could hear Ryder slapping his knee, clapping his hands and laughing with his grandpa. I caught myself listening to the sounds echo up the stairs to where I sat with K, smiling and chatting over disorganized stacks of family photographs.


It's just one reason our trip -- diverted flight, emergency car rental, and unanticipated two-hour drive from Columbus to Cincinnati on Christmas day -- proved to be so very worthwhile.


Sunday, January 08, 2006
I do not write about football on this site. However, I am making an exception today because many people I care about were seriously bummed by this news.


"In losing Palmer, the Bengals were forced to go on without the player most responsible for their AFC North championship and their return to the playoffs for the first time in 15 years."


Sucky.


Friday, January 06, 2006
When you unexpectedly hear from someone you were once very close with but no longer are, and he asks you how things are going, do you tell the whole truth or do you just give a high-level answer without getting into any smutty details?


A fan of brutal honesty, in this case I think it's better to just give the high-level. It's essentially true. Actually, it's entirely true, and really, people don't need to know all the intimate details.


Interestingly enough, I exchanged emails yesterday with such an individual and also with an individual whom I do not know. I told the former less about my actual life than I did the latter. I told more to the new stranger than to the old one.


A stranger will let you start in media res. The past wants more information, which leads to more questions about how you got from point A that's remembered to this point where things are now. It takes too long and requires too much effort to get the past caught up to the present.


I'm learning this lesson: Like the old acquaintance, I only need to know what I need to know. You'll tell me what's important if you want to.


Wednesday, January 04, 2006
As part of my New Year ritual, I replaced the calendar in my day planner with the current year's edition. Yes, I still use a day planner of the paper variety and physically write down due dates and the like.


My day planner isn't the run of the mill planner either. It will soon be 10 years old; I purchased it at 21 in 1996. Are you starting to feel me here? Through drunken college and post-college escapades, I never lost it. (I lost a lot of other things, but never that planner.) It was with me when I started my first real job in Jan. 1998 while living on Thackery Street in an apartment that is no longer there. For years I've written due dates for bills in the left-hand margin. It's part of my system to keep things running, reminding me of birth dates and changed addresses. I seriously love the planner.


I carry the planner to and from work every day, though it is larger than my laptop and heavier, too. I could stop carrying it and significantly lighten my load, but I never know when I'll need it.


It's amazing how short a year looks on paper. That I can hold it in my hands and quickly transfer important dates from the previous year to the new one solidifies the notion that time truly does fly. I've never been able to throw out the old year with a clear conscience, which is why I keep archives.


I mean, say I need to know what date I went to the dentist six months ago? I could look it up. I can find the date because I have archives. This is how I know that I went to book club Oct. 20, 2004, nine days before Ryder was born. It's how I know that we met at Carrabas that night. It's how I know I dropped off dry-cleaning Sept. 21, 2004. I will probably never need to remember many of the details stored in these files, but I sleep better at night knowing the information's there.


Tuesday, January 03, 2006
2006
"When I'm standing somewhere on someone's crowded deck full of strangers tomorrow night, when the magic hour is high, I'll let go into the air the confetti in my palm, and think of you."


It's a new year, and I haven't been on the computer in awhile. What I have been doing during the past 10 days:


Eating sweets
Pecan pie, dream bars, fudge, cupcakes, carrot cake, homemade turtles, more homemade turtles, iced Christmas cookies; all thanks to my father-in-law who is a seriously talented baker.


Watching movies
The Family Stone; Must Love Dogs; The Exorcism of Emily Rose; Trauma; Four Brothers (didn't make it through that one though); and unsuccessfully attempting to see Brokeback Mountain.


Reading
The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion (a memoir, big surprise)


The fact that I finished this book and watched as many movies as I did is an accomplishment -- especially considering that my boy wouldn't let me out of his sight the entire time we were at the in-laws. This was rather cute at first, but by day four I was feeling claustrophobic and wanted to yell, "Please just let your grandparents hold you for ONE minute!" Children learn manipulation very early, and then grow into talented adults who can eat with one hand while dressing a child with the other.


I hope everyone has a Happy 2006. I'm looking forward to this year.