Yesterday's post got lots of response. Not in the form of comments on the blog itself but in direct emails. Some of you say that Sam needs to stop being such a dookiehead. Others said I should let Sam read the post so that he can see how I feel (and for the record, he knows the address to the blog but 1) isn't much of a reader and 2) doesn't much care about my art... other than whether or not I save it on a disk somewhere so I don't lose it *eyeroll*). One even said that they thought Sam's feelings might be hurt if he read it (or maybe if he knew that so many other people had read it). Of all the responses, that is the one that troubles me the most.
First of all, I don't rehearse what I write when I blog. I sit down to record events and observations, emotions and frustrations. So, if I'm still pissy when I actually get to the computer, it's gonna come out. And you all can be sure that Sam already knows all of my feelings because I truly am an open book. I tell him exactly how I feel, exactly what I want/need and exactly when, where, how, etc. I am my own owner's manual. So, none of what I write would ever be a surprise to Sam (if he were to ever read it). I'll admit that in re-reading my post from yesterday, I did a good job in relating how I was feeling at that time. And of relating my perception of Sam, at that time. I hope you all don't think that that's how I feel (or that's how he is) all the time, because, those of you who know me... do you REALLY think I would stay with someone who was like that? I think you know better.
Back to hurt feelings. If I thought there was even a slight possiblity that Sam's feelings would be hurt or that he would be embarrassed, I would delete the entire post. I might even shut this blog down. Because though he gets on my last nerve, though he constantly seems to use his passive agressive little tics to trick me into letting my self feel like mud, though he sometimes sucks the joy pure out of everything, I'd never hurt him on purpose. I guess that means I love him.
And, well, today was better... That always makes yesterday's shitty day look like an exaggeration, doesn't it? Fridays are hard. We're both fed up with our respective roles for the week and sleep deprivation and unwillingness to communicate in a friendly way all exacerbates that. But Saturdays are easier. He doesn't have to go to work, so he doesn't inhale whatever I've prepared, give me the drive-by kiss and storm off to communicate with actual adults leaving me in kidland still smelling like yesterday's sweat and grease. He doesn't cut in the shower line.
Today was good.
I got up early and took Ryan with me to the market my friend showed me. She had told me that Saturdays and Sundays were the days that the "bio" (or organic) booths would be there. So Ryan was a big boy. He walked right along with me (or skipped ahead of me). He held my hand on the bridge. Held on extra tight. He even asked me to "hold him" because he could see the water far below through the railing. And he didn't whimper too much when I said, "I can't hold you, but I can hold your hand." Then, he wanted to hold his own metro ticket. And validate it. He didn't want to hold my hand as we went down the stairs or up the escalator. He wanted to know what "that black stuff" (grease) was on the middle track. He jumped and skitted when the noisy metro train came clanking and clacking up to the quai. And he sat by himself on his bottom as we rode the train to Croix-Rousse. It was fun for me to have a little sidekick.
The market was great that early in the morning. There was hardly anyone, so I didn't have to worry about losing Ryan in the crowd. We took our time walking through the organic section of the market. It was great to see tomatoes and cukes and other things that look like they came straight from my mom's (grandpa's, father-in-law's, whomever's) garden instead of all plastic-y and shiny and waxy and whatnot.
So, we started with the eggs. I let Ryan pick them out as I filled a carton of six. The vendor greeted me and I murmured, "Just this half dozen."
"No," I said louder, "a half dozen."
"That would make six then, huh?"
I giggled. I don't get market humor. I paid and wished him a great day.
Then, we stopped for bread. It is organic bread whose flour is milled locally. I thought I'd kiss the vendor. Just knowing it exists. I so hope I can get ahold of some of that flour so I can make my OWN bread and pasta from it. Anyway, Ryan and I were speaking English. She asked me, "Do you speak French?" in French. "Because my English isn't so good."
"Yeah, I can hold my own," I said in French.
"Oh, you speak great French."
My ego swelled, as usual. Oh, how it loves to be pet.
We bought a loaf of demi-complet (which isn't quite WHOLE grain, but half... she said kids prefer it to straight up complet but it's healthier than white). It smelled AWESOME and had little sesame seeds on the crust.
Then, we stopped for some pears and some summer apples. The apples were little and greeny and didn't really draw me in, but Ryan really wanted some. So, I took out the little sheer cloth bag my new friend gave me (or was it the one she accidentally left at my house?) and put whatever apples Ryan chose into the bag, choosing some pears as well because Lily loves them and they were both the same price. Well, this whole time, there's this chick ahead of me in line, chatting with the vendor as he rings up her plums. They're talking seasons and what not and blah blah blah that I normally might have found interesting, but since the market was starting to get busy and I had a line of people behind me at this point, not to mention an antsy and hungry little four-year-old, all her banter did was get on my nerves. Move it lady! And when she began to UNLOAD her sack to deliberately and painstakingly slowly REARRANGE its contents, still blocking the line to the register, I found myself releasing a sigh... A SIGH... and not one of those silent ones you let slip, but a full-fledged move-your-ass sigh. I felt so French. At least I didn't click my teeth, huh?
After that, though I eyed the honey (but I could hear Sam's voice in my head telling me we already have two jars) and stared longingly at the free-range rotisserie chickens, I hadn't yet bought my tomatoes and cukes and knew I wouldn't have money left over. I'll have to save that for another trip. We already have other meats in the fridge that need to be eaten anyway. So, we made our way to the veggies.
I don't know protocol of the "bio" market. What I do know from observation is that they either have no sack at all or use the little biodegradable paper sacks. Well, that's great. But I have little thin plastic sacks leftover from the NON-bio market vendors from the other day. So, should I take one of their paper sacks just so I don't show any evil plastic, OR should I recycle my plastic sack by actually USING it until it's full of holes. I chose the latter. I let Ryan pick the maters and then looked up to greet the vendor. He wished me bonjour but held out a little basket to put my veggies in. It was at that point that I noticed other people using these little baskets. Oh well, it definitely wasn't the first time I had committed a faux pas. I could have let it trip me up. In fact, I almost did. He asked me, "And with this?" I said, "That's all for today." But it wasn't. And I knew it. And I could have just taken my change and walked away, but then, "Oh, you know what? I mispoke. I need some cucumbers" slipped out of my mouth. Ryan picked out the biggest cuke in the basket, but that was okay because it was per piece. The guy mimicked Ryan's English and said, "zee beeeg wahn, eh?" *eye roll* Whatever. I wish I got market humor.
Anyway, it was a great trip. However, the chicken smelled painfully good. Ryan kept saying, "Now can we go to the restaurant?" (we had promised him we would go to IKEA for breakfast so the kids could play). I had planned to have Sam meet us at the top of the hill so we could just get in the van and head out, but after a quick call and hearing that he and the girls were NOT ready to go, I told him that we'd meet him a the Hotel de Ville at the bottom of the hill, that Ryan would enjoy another trip in the metro anyway.
And he did. He was even more grown up this time.
We went to IKEA. I LOVE their breakfast. But you know that. We bought a lamp for my office--yay, I have light!!! And we got a few baskets to put the kids' toys into because I'm trying to completely weed plastic out of our lives forever. We've been doing this for about a year, but now we're getting down to the nitty gritty... The next step will be getting rid of the little plastic containers of yogurt and buying directly from the yogurt makers in little glass containers. I'm looking up mousse au chocolate (chocolate mousse) recipes tonight so that I can make my own and put it into Lolo's old babyfood jars. We've already gotten rid of our old Tupperware kind of stuff (except for the ones we use for crayons and doodads). It just feels more responsible knowing that we're not contributing to an addiction of non-biodegradables. DUDE, we really are turning into SUCH hippies!!!
OH, and I found a possible solution to the diaper pail dillemma. Since we have a front-loader, we can't soak our diapers in cold water before washing them. This wouldn't be a BIG problem (since our washer does have a "handwash" setting) if I hadn't already found a small chunk of POOOOOOOP in the washer AFTER a one-hour cycle of washing. SO, I realized at that point that if I ever wanted to wash anything OTHER than dipes in that washer, I was going to have to find a solution. There had to be a way to soak 'em. The problem wasn't the soaking... it was the draining. Back home, I'd just fill the washer half way on the soak setting and then spin 'em out before actually washing them. But as I mentioned, you can't do that with a front-loader. And I couldn't very well just throw the whole kit and caboodle into the washer. I'd need a way to DRAIN the dipes before putting them into the machine. I couldn't find a basket big enough in ANY material. Then, I got the BRILLIANT idea to get one of those mesh bags you can wash littlies in (know what I mean? like a sock thingy?) but one big enough to hold the dipes. That way, I could line the pail with the mesh, fill it with water, soak the dipes and then when it came time to wash 'em, I could just pick up the mesh, set the whole thing in the bidet, dump the poopy water into the toilet, put the dipes back into the pail and throw the WHOLE thing into the washer (including the mesh).
Only problem was, I couldn't find the mesh ANYWHERE!!! I've been to camping stores, sports stores, fabric stores... NADA.
Guess who found my mesh? SAM!!! I couldn't believe it. It's a star-shaped like, stuffed animal thingy doodle. I'm not even sure EXACTLY what it's for, but it was just hanging there in IKEA near the toys and Sam saw it. I'm trying it out right now. I'll keep you posted. Cross your fingers.
I've become addicted again. I was going to TRY to wait until I completely weaned Lolo, but I've been sucked back into drinking coffee. Up until now, I've settled for the imposter coffee maker we used to use when we lived here before. But that cup of coffee I had the other night after my meal was just too damn good... I broke down and made Sam buy an espresso machine today. I just wanted him to get a cheapy little one-cupper, but he found a good deal on some Italian job. And it makes a crazy wicked good cuppa. *sigh* Vices.
After we got home from all that, we ate a great lunch. I made an omelette from the mushrooms I bought the other day and the eggs I got this morning. We had cauliflour and zuchini from Pepe's garden. Of course, Ryan ate his stand-by ham sandwich (talk about your vices... the kid's addicted) and Lily ate her stand-by cold ravioli.
But just after lunch, we loaded up into the umbrella strollers and took the trolleybus down to the other big store. We wanted to use filtered water for our new coffee machine but just couldn't reconcile buying plastic bottled water all the time so we decided to go get a Brita. Plus, we needed to get Ryan a cap, water bottle and wind-breaker for his first day of school on Monday. We got all that and some babyfood. Ryan LOOOOOOOVED the trolleybus, of course!
The kids konked out and I cleaned the kitchen while Sam put together my new lamp and put it into my office. He also calibrated my GPS wrist-watch so I can start training next week for my races (woo HOOOOO!!!!). THEN, he took the oven door off its hinges so I could clean the ten years of grease and grime out of there.... I just couldn't use the damn thing thinking of someone else's filth on my food. But it looks all shiny and clean now. All that's missing is some bakeware.
Dinner was simple organic veggies from this morning's trip--cukes and tomatoes--as well as a couple of palm hearts, rolled up turkey slices and leftover pasta/pesto eaten cold.
The day has been long and full and civil and happy and rewarding. Don't you think it's funny that I find him sexy when he's taking the oven door off it's hinges? Crazy how he looks so good coming back from calibrating my Garmin. But oh how my skin crawls as he watches the Olympics.
I probably should be medicated, huh?
Tomorrow's adventures are supposed to include a castle. We're hanging out with our friend and we get to meet her mom. I'm psyched!!! Stay tuned.
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