Posts Tagged ‘Ben’

    Dream state

    Wednesday, November 4th, 2009

    I had one of the more scarily bizarre dreams of my lifetime last night.

    I know, you don’t so much care to read about another’s dream. Because, if you’re anything like me, you’re curious about just how scary/bizarre it is but know better than to ask for a play-by-play about something that, inevitably, is wholly uninteresting and anticlimactic .

    But I dreamed last night that Ben and I had a baby; the most adorable little girl with dark hair and big brown eyes who looked more like an 8-month-old by the time we brought her home, which (surprise!), wasn’t our home at all.

    I was calling my baby by three different names — Brooke, Gus and Asha — and growing frustrated by those who called her by the wrong name. This detail, I believe, symbolizes my control issues.

    Anyway, I started nursing my baby for the first time, and somehow the act of breast-feeding was the easiest thing I could have done, which I’m sure is a statement my mom-friends who nursed their real-life kids would guffaw at.

    Once she was fed and burped, I placed Brooke-Gus-Asha into her bassinet and walked away. I don’t know how much time elapsed, but I thought I heard cooing sounds so I went to check on her. As I peered at her face, I discovered that she was very much not cooing but choking on milk she had spit up.

    And so I saved her.

    I quickly yet calmly picked up my dream-induced daughter and patted her back  to clear her throat. Her breathing steadied.

    I saved her. I saved her even though seeing her choke would’ve been the precise moment I’d shake myself awake from a nightmare — when all seems hopeless.

    Sacred Sunday

    Monday, November 2nd, 2009

    There’s something about Sunday that always has me pause and give thanks. I reflect on my healthy mind and body, thoughtful parents, a flourishing marriage, a support system from here to halfway around the world, shelter, sustenance and my four-legged furries that nap all day long.

    I know there’s a reason I feel this way every Sunday; and I think you know, too.

    What’s cooking

    Wednesday, October 28th, 2009

    It’s Wednesday, usually the day Ben and I eat out. Usually the day I can come home and sit on my heinie with nary a thought wasted on what to cook for dinner.

    But because we blew through our monthly “Dining Out” budget around, oh, Oct. 10, there will be no Wednesday-night-heinie-on-the-couch time … YET AGAIN. November, please hurry.

    The good news is that I’ve been researching recipes for tofu-veggie stirfry all day today and found one that should win me points from my husband. The bad news is that my ego is completely shot — do you know how many Julie & Julia types exist in the world? For these women, cooking is a hobby, whereas I have to overcome an entire day’s worth of hubbub just to make a tuna melt.

    Although it is an awesome tuna melt.

    Check out my favorite sites: Pham FataleThe Nourishing Gourmet, and Cannelle et Vanille (translation: Cinnamon and Vanilla). It’s OK if you don’t cook the food, the images on these blogs are enough to satiate you. … unless, well, you’re hungry.

    Creatures of habit?

    Tuesday, October 27th, 2009

    First, there’s my tendency to sleep until about 7:30 a.m. every work day, even though my alarm goes off at 6:50.

    Then, after dressing, there’s the check and re-check of the dark nooks within the master closet to make sure none of the cats snuck in to dance on the clothes.

    Then there’s the parting kiss that my husband never forgets to give.

    There’s also makeup application: a spot of creme blush and a shade of lipstick — which ends up being the same one out of 15.

    Then there’s the rush to get in my car by 8:05, except that it’s always closer to 8:15.

    Then I see the security guard dozed off again in the tower in the employee parking lot and think, “Life is unfair.”

    There’s, of course, the man at work who dumps canned tuna on a whole-wheat tortilla and eats it for lunch Every. Single. Day.

    There’s the blogging (lately, anyway).

    There’s definitely the slowing of time once the clock strikes 3 p.m. on a weekday.

    And then there’s Gizmo, sweet, cantankerous Gizmo, who waits and meows on the other side of the door as I unlock it upon my arrival home.

    From about 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday, these are the markers of my life. These occurences orient me in a space-time sort of way; they provide context and, as a result, spur decisions. Yet, interestingly enough, those daily decisions are never the same.

    Let your light shine

    Saturday, October 17th, 2009

    “While popularly regarded as the Festival of Lights, the most significant meaning of Diwali is the awareness of one’s own inner light.”

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