My Favorite Stalker

Do you have a sister*? Does she stalk you?

I just got off the phone with my sister for the FOURTH time today. (To be fair, I did call her once. To state that the Chorus teacher was 12 minutes late in letting the kids leave and that if I had kept her waiting with Mackenzie for 12 minutes after practice was supposed to be over, she would be incensed by the "thoughtless parent" who kept her waiting after school. ... I'm just sayin'.)

Don't mind me. I'm just cranky. My back hurts.

What was I saying? Oh yes. My sister. Her best trick is calling me when she's in the car going to pick up this kid or drop off that kid. Or during times like this morning, when she and the 5 year old were headed to Indianapolis for an eye appointment. She was hostage in her car for 60 miles and called me. Despite the fact that she knew I was at work. So I talked to her for longer than I'm willing to admit to you, dear Internet, lest you are actually my boss (Hi Beth!) and you decide to fire me.

Then, seven hours later, I called her while waiting for Mac. To commence with the bitching. Remember?

But she was at Target buying pink and purple glasses with "diamonds" (not for her, for the 5 year old, duh!) so she passed me off to each of her three daughters before hollering into the phone, "Can't talk! Call you back!"

And then, half-an-hour later, she did. So we talked about cooking and new recipes she has recently tried. (Including one from Real Simple with the unfortunate and stoopid name, "Quesadilla Pie." What it is, people, is a stacked enchilada! What redneck decided to name it "Quesadilla Pie"? It has cheese in it. That's where the Quesadilla-ness ends... Therefore, I forbid her to use that title and would only talk to her if she called it "Stacked Enchilada.") So we talked for a while about that, and how much we hate Sandra Lee because it is not ok to match your menu with your outfit with your curtains with your table setting. Yet, we still watch her because sometimes "Semi-Homemade" is way easier than "Totally Homemade." Then she had to go because she is not divorced and she must make dinner for her Husband and Offspring.

Then, mere minutes later, she called me back. Because she started to panic that the recipe called for a 9-in pan or a 2 qt. casserole and her tortillas weren't! going to! fit! But then she tried it and they did. Crisis averted. Which is a good thing, because she wasn't going to like my idea of carefully trimming each tortilla with her kitchen shears. Muahahahaha! But then she called it "Quesadilla Pie." Three more times.

Then I hung up on her.

I haven't heard from her since.

*A sister who called me up to start a Blog for her so she could join in the fun, then played for 2 weeks before disappearing forever to let her page languish and stall on the Information Superhighway.

Paige's Perfect Pear Salad

Paige’s Perfect Pear Salad

Spring Mix lettuce
1 1/2 cups Gorgonzola, crumbled
1 Asian pear or 2 regular pears
1/2 cup chopped basil
1 cup candied walnuts*

Toss.

Dressing:
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
1 1/2 cups canola oil
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon pepper
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
Squeeze of lemon

In a blender, whirl vinegar, salt, pepper and mustard on high while slowly adding oil. (Be careful here because the dressing thickens up quickly. Also, sometimes, I put the basil in the dressing and not tossed with the salad.)

*Candied Walnuts (Or Pecans):
1 cup walnuts (or pecans)
2 tablespoons corn syrup
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
pinch cayenne

Preheat oven to 325. Spray baking sheet with Pam. Combine all ingredients in a bowl; toss to coat.

Bake until nuts are golden brown and sugar mixture is bubbling, stirring occasionally, about 15 minutes. Cool completely. (Or just buy them already candied at Trader Joe's.)

Photo Update

Yoga. Trying desperately to re-center myself.



What divorced women eat for dinner:


The state of the floor when I made Mac's Valentines for her because she waited until the Very Last Minute to handle it. (Then school was cancelled the next day, anyway. Figures.)


Boys are weird. They were on their way up to the 9:30 Club for a 'Slayer' Concert. They had fun, I suppose. D came home with a fat lip and a limp from the Mosh Pit.



Haniwa Horse


Homework Girl


Friday Night Lights


Sunday Morning Snow

Mackenzie in the Window

Traveling Journal Update

It's been finished for over a week, but I'm a little swamped here (evidence the 85 emails I'm working my way through in my Inbox) so I'm just getting around to posting this:

Leah has finished with the book~







Thank you, Leah! She has sent it off and I hear it's arrived, in the Snowy Midwest, at Bec's house.

Have fun, Bec!

(Other Paige, you're on deck!)

No, Really, I LOOOOOOVE My Job

It's been a long time since I've ranted about this, but you may recall that my job is in Property Management. I am the Homeowners Association Customer Service Rep/Site Manager for my neighborhood. It's just Me, part-time, and Wiley, the full-time maintenance man, against 500 homeowners. We are hideously outnumbered. (Well, Beth too, but she's not on site.)

So.

The residents of my neighborhood (aka Satan's Minions) must have heard my whining about how self-involved I've become lately and have come to the rescue by taking my mind off myself and focusing all my hostility and indignation back towards them. (It's true, I take my job too personally and have no business working in Property Management - just ask Beth. She agrees.)

Anyway, You, loyal readers, reap the benefits of that. Cheers to Satan's Minions!

*******

This is what I have learned during the past 3 days of Phone Answering Goddess Goodness:

A) It is, apparently, My Fault that the "Wintery Mix," which blanketed the DC Metro area last Tuesday has hardened into a frigid, crystalline, Siberian wasteland, making it virtually impossible to plow, much less shovel allowing freedom to the cars that remain ice-bound about the neighborhood. Residents - please discuss amongst yourselves the tragedy that has befallen yourselves whilst stuck in your cozy, lighted, heated homes for the past four days. Mr. Shackelton, we'll start with you.

2) The design flaw on Every Single Snow Plow on Earth, which allows some snow to cascade out the sides during the plowing motion of the vehicle is also My Fault. When this snow forms a little frozen glacier behind the cars in our parking lots, I am the Responsible Party for removing every last snowflake from behind Mrs. Bitch-a-lot's Pontiac so she can go stock up on more Bridge Mix for tonight's card game.

C) I have it on Excellent Authority (Thank You, Mrs. Nasty-Pants) that "when [I] plowed the streets, [I] did it wrong and left too much snow in the streets and piled the rest up in poor places." (This was a paraphrase, because quite honestly, after a few seconds of this call, all I heard was Charlie Brown's teacher. But the message was clear. It was My Fault.)

D) Crazy Grass Lady called to let me know that "her car had been plowed in and she couldn't get out for her CAT Scan which she needs because she has some disease (again, not listening), but that if the maintenance man - what's his name again?" Wiley "Oh, yes, Wiley - could come over, she has an ice pick that he can use and it's not really an ice pick, but it has a flat blade and it's adequate for chopping up ice, but she can't do it (she tried) because she's too weak but if he can come and help her, she will leave it inside the back gate and ...... blah, blah, blah ...... and she's willing to tip Wiley if he can just come over because she has a CAT Scan......" (That loud sound you hear is me banging my head against the wall.)

Wiley went over. I hope he got his tip.

E) Slow-Talking Man With Strange Voice Inflections called to let me know that "they didn't plow C** Drive because he's looking at it (he didn't actually walk over there but he can see it out his bedroom window) and he knows it hasn't been plowed because he can't see any pavement." Well, Mr. Slow-Talking Man With Strange Voice Inflection, we've surveyed the entire neighborhood and it has been plowed. I believe you can't see any pavement because that street is in the shade and the snow and ice hasn't started melting off yet. "No, on the street in front of my house, I can see pavement, so since I can't see any pavement on C** Dr., I don't think it's been plowed." Well, Mr. Slow-Talking Man With Strange Voice Inflection, the street in front of your house is in the sun and the snow has started melting there, that's why you can see pavement. The street in back is in the shade and hasn't started melting off yet. "I don't think so." Ok, thank you for calling Mr. You're An Idiot and It Scares the Crap Out of Me That You're A High School Teacher!

F) Crazy Grass Lady, Part Deux - "...also (as if she had NEVER EVEN STOPPED TALKING), they pushed too much snow over the sewer behind building 21, beside the lamp post, and it will never melt and when it does melt, it will be unable to drain, forming a pond in that portion of the parking area and then it will freeze at night and we will have an ice rink and that will be terribly dangerous..." (On the other hand, if you fall and damage your brain centers for speech, you can never call me again and ramble on in that insane way that you do that makes me Actually Crawl Up Walls, while rolling my eyes and sticking an ice pick in my ears...)

G) Ms. No Wonder She Never Got Married called to let me know it was My Fault "that she was missing work on Wednesday since her street hadn't been plowed yet". Ms. No Wonder You Never Got Married, that street is County-Owned and the Association doesn't maintain it. It's the County's responsibility to plow it. "Well, where are they? I'm missing work!" in a very high, insidious shrieky voice. I don't know, Ms. No Wonder You Never Got Married, it was not MY day to be in charge of the COUNTY!

(No, I didn't really say that, but don't you wish I had?)

Drill Down Stats:

• 47 Residents Bitched that we didn't plow early enough. (This is because it was not our community's turn to be First.)
• 1 Resident Bitched that we plowed - it would have been better if we hadn't. (I told her I had nothing to say to that. Seriously. I did totally say that.)
  
• 1 Resident anonymously called and Bitched in her shaky old-lady voice that we need to come over Right Now to see what a terrible job they did plowing T****** Ct. and then hung up before I could let her know that I recognized her voice (because if you're going to call and complain constantly then you lose the ability to be anonymous. Idiot.).
  
• 1 Resident Bitched that her sidewalk was not clean enough and if she had an emergency, the ambulance couldn't get to her. (After assuring her that the EMT's would, in fact, reach her in an emergency, and assuring her that the plow job was acceptable, I asked her: If you died, would it really be all that much of a tragedy? I mean, honestly, look how miserable you are. ...Except that I didn't actually say that last part out loud. I only thought it. Because I'm divorced now and poor and I need this job, awful as it is, for the next 4 months.)
• 1 Resident Bitched that Wiley didn't shovel ALL the sidewalks in the neighborhood (realize, please, that this is a job that would take a crew of 50 an entire day or more to accomplish). That was just stupid.
  
• 7 Nasty emails...

...and a Partridge in a Pear Treeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

On Overcoming Distraction

Have you noticed lately, how all my posts have been very ADD-laden, listy sort of affairs? It's because my mind's been brimming with plans and fears and insecurities; 'what ifs' and 'if onlys' for far too long - nearly a year. I'm having a hard time choosing a subject, let alone concentrating on it for long enough to write a post that anyone should care to read. I sit down to write and all that comes to mind is moving and job-searching and Mediated Agreements; where to start picking up the pieces of my life - which ones do I keep and try to fashion into a new life? ...which ones do I discard for better or for worse? ...wondering how they will all piece back together to create a new definition of 'Paige'. It's exhausting to be this consistently self-involved, and so incredibly dull to have nothing else on my mind.

So. I've decided that baby steps are my friend, and I've started doing a few things to re-train my mind to look past my personal trainwreck and focus on one thing, any thing for a while:

I finally read a book.

I bought a book of 100 New York Times crossword puzzles (because I don't get the paper every day, and even if I did, the Post does not carry the NYT crosswords and those are my favorites).

I've started to make a To-Do list of everything I need to accomplish during the next several months (that right there feels like an elephant on my chest) before the divorce is final and we migrate to Indiana.

I'm writing this post. (Does concentrating on writing a post about not being able to concentrate cancel itself out and put me right back at the beginning?).

(OH MY GOD! I just wrote a list! I may have a problem that will require Intervention.)

That Which Makes Me Smile

~Coming home from work to see that my work buddy has shoveled out and salted my parking space for me.

~The Cactus writes haiku.

~Seventeen pound dogs that slip and slide on the back patio. (Actually, this makes me laugh out loud.)

~Hot Chocolate.

~A friend you can call, who reassures your sense of reason, when the entire world seems to have gone stark raving mad.

~This.

~Being safe and cozy inside when you can hear ice pelting the window outside.

~The New York Times crossword.

~Little girls who are overjoyed to escape school early and big boys who are able to take a nap before his 5th straight night of work.

~Stripey scarves.

~The defrost function on Lucy (as I am entirely too short to scrape the accumulated ice from the center of the windshield).

~The promise of Spring.

Things I Learned This Weekend - The Bubbles & Co. Edition

A) I took a bath for the first time in 3 or 4 years last night. Turns out, they're making bathtubs smaller these days.

(Or maybe I'm bigger....)

(Edit: Actually, I just thought about it and I'm NOT bigger - American bathtubs are waaaaaaaay smaller than Japanese tubs. You can have a party in a Japanese tub! Go ahead, let your mind wander... I'll wait.)

2) If you concentrate really hard, you can finish a book, even while in the midst of a divorce. I spent most of the weekend in my super-clean, super-quiet, super-cozy house, reading with Mackenzie and actually finished my first book since last fall.

C) Only during an evening with great friends (Bubbles and the Big Sexy) will you end up sitting on the kitchen floor talking and drinking wine while waiting for dinner to finish cooking.

D) I'm not too old to fall in love again. This baby girl demanded (and received) my heart this weekend:


...While sitting on the kitchen floor, she hugged me spontaneously and without bribe - her head down on my shoulder, her chubby baby-hand patting my back. And she did it more than once. My uterus still feels the pangs.

Double D) Turns out Mackenzie likes babies after all. And this baby adored her. Behold....



(PS - Her hair is weird because it was Wacky Hair Day at school.)

E) Even if you spend 8 hours talking non-stop with a sister-girlfriend on Friday, you can still carry on a 90 minute conversation on the phone on Sunday (while she drinks wine with a twist-cap and I hide from my kids in the basement).

Weekend At Brandi's

The weekend started out a bit sad. I was surprised by a sneak-attack of some emotions I wasn't expecting to have and the delivery of some legal documents from the county clerk. I was sad and lonely and frustrated; remorseful, guilty, embarrassed, and after work on Friday, I came home and crawled into bed and slept for 2 hours before I had to pull myself together to go get Mackenzie from school. We ended up putting on our jammies at 5:30 and losing ourselves in some movies all night long, munching on popcorn and candy.

Saturday was slow. Reading the paper, cleaning a bit, talking on the phone with friends and family, then we went to Jeff and Singing-Lisa's for dinner. But not before taking a much overdue Saturday Self-Portrait (which is better in small format because what is actually in focus in this photo is the bookcase behind me...duh)(on the bright side, the 'soft-focus' hides my wrinkles!):


And as we don't care too much about the Superbowl (I know - I'm an embarrassment to Indiana) we went to the mall today so D could spend his Christmas and Birthday money that's been burning a hole in his pocket and I needed to snag a couple of work-suitable, on-sale items as my closet is full of stay-at-home-mom jeans, t's and sweatshirts - all super-comfy but unfortunately, very inappropriate for the workplace.

And to prove to everyone that Mac and I are going to be fine:

(To get the full effect, you should hum Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" while viewing this photo.)