JanuMary

Happy Anniversary!

Today marks one year of marriage as well as the day we moved into Tiny Bella. Yes, we got married and moved in on the same day. It was pretty cool.

To comemorate, I got Ivan a gift certificate to a local glass blowing studio so he can get a glass slug he’s been eyeing and he got me my very first iPhone. Look out apps store!

All in all, a satisfactory day.

fishy:

oldfilmsflicker:funeralface:douglasmartini:

A little Facebook meme that I’m bringing to Tumblr, because I’m bored.

(1) Turn on your MP3 player. (2) Go to SHUFFLE songs mode. (3) Write down the first 15 songs that come up—song title and artist—NO editing/cheating, please. (4) Reblog or repost to show your friends.

This is from a selection of 10,786 (!) songs from 2 external hard drives. Ivan and I combined our individual libraries to play through one media station. Selections marked with an * are from Ivan’s library. The others will be mine.

1.   Calling All Angels : Jane Siberry and kd lang
2.   All the Way Down: Bart Ramsey*
3.   Eternity: Sheena Easton*
4.   Hi, Hi, Hi (Single Edit): Paul McCartney & Wings*
5.   A Gringo Like Me: Ennio Morricone* (from ‘Legendary Italian Westerns)
6.   Home: Barenaked Ladies*
7.   Pensativo (Interlude): Ozomatli
8.   You are the One: Mike + the Mechanics*
9.   Things Go Wrong: Chris Isaak
10. I’m So Glad: Cream
11. Your New Twin Sized Bed: Death Cab for Cutie
12. Things We Said Today: Salamander Crossing
13. My Sister Rose: 10,000 Maniacs*
14. Rock Bottom: The Dandy Warhols
15. I Sing The Body Electric: Me First & The Gimme Gimmes*

The husband wants to be taken back
into the family after behaving terribly
but nothing can be taken back,
not the leaves by the trees, the rain
by the clouds. You want to take back
the ugly thing you said but some shrapnel
remains in the wound, some mud.
Night after night Tybalt’s stabbed
so the lovers are ground in mechanical
aftermath. Think of the gunk that never
comes off the roasting pan, the goofs
of a diamond cutter. But wasn’t it
electricity’s blunder into inert clay
that started this whole mess, the I-
echo in the head, a marriage begun
with a fender bender, a sneeze,
a mutation, a raid, an irrevocable
fuckup. So in the meantime: epoxy,
the dog barking at who knows what,
signals mixed like a dumped-out tray
of printer’s type. Some piece of you
stays in me and I’ll never give it back.
The heart needs its thorns
just as the rose its profligacy.
Just because you’ve had enough
doesn’t mean you wanted too much.

-Dean Young

“I don’t know how many hungers there are …”

—Kim Addonizio’s, “The Numbers”

All day I’ve been reading poems about
unfinished conversations,
unanswered prayers,
a woman fed up with how
people die so horribly and live
without ever finding lasting love,
and in the middle, there’s this amazing image —
pies spinning in the glass refrigerator case
of a restaurant, long after it’s closed.

The diner heaven of Astoria, Queens
where I was raised,
was a haven for those brightly-lit,
spinning showrooms —
blueberry, rhubarb and apple pies,
foot-high strawberry shortcake,
Devil’s Tower chocolate,
cheesecakes topped with cherry glaze,
Eclairs chubby as newborns,
ruby and emerald cubed Jellos.
So many magnificent choices —
a jewel case for desire.

Wouldn’t it be grand
if love could be like that,
where the only trouble —
the only one —
is which sweet thing to pick?

And yet,
whether you’re the type
who savors or the type who gobbles,
it all ends up devoured, disappeared, gone.
What you’re left with is
“can’t-believe-I-ate-the-whole-thing” guilt
and heartburn, which pass,
but those love handles,
those extra dollops of cream on your hips,
Baby, let me tell you,
those will last your whole life.

-Lana Hechtman Ayers

In an effort to get people to look
into each other’s eyes more,
the government has decided to allot
each person exactly a hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it
to my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
at chicken noodle soup. I am
adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long
distance lover and proudly say
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn’t respond, I know
she’s used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.

-Jeffrey McDaniel

scenes-from-my-hood:

wow.

Oh my gosh. I have know idea how to respond to this. Condolences to his children and family.

I am sooo excited! Today is payday and that means that tonight I will pay off the last of my credit card debt! Woo AND Hoo!

I could do it now during my lunch break (thanks on-line banking!) but I want to wait so I can do it with Ivan sitting near by. Without him I never would have been able to have cleared it up as quickly as I have.

Should we get champagne?

So…my appointment with the physical therapist went well. I guess. He agreed with my assesment that I have Compartment Syndrome. Which is what I told my other PT 3-4 years ago right before she dismissed it out of hand.

Sigh.

So, yay! for feeling justified that it’s not me being a wimp and unable to ‘work through the pain’ but an actual medical problem. And Boo! because now I have to go for definitive testing with another doctor (who is not a preferred provider on my insurance plan) next month. I’m told the test is not pleasant. And surgery is likely the only option if I do, indeed, have it.

I’m not sure what my options are if it turns out not to be CS.

I have an appointment this morning with a new Physical Therapist. Hoping to find a solution to a chronic ‘shin-splint’ condition (for lack of a better descriptor) that makes even walking quickly incredibly uncomfortable. All part of the great “Get Back In Shape” manifesto I’ve got going!