THE GROCERY STORE PT. 2

This is continued from HERE.

Enjoy!


It had been a difficult morning, preceded, as usual, by a night of insomnia that left her shattered and groggy by six, when the alarm went off. The internal battle to shut off the snooze, drag herself out of the blankets, and propel herself out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen was made more difficult by the fact that she'd drunk a bottle of bad white wine the night before; the rebelliousness that had pushed her to do that had now mutated into a simmering anxiety about her drinking, among other things--into worries, intensified by a stabbing headache and dry, dirty taste in her mouth, that were difficult to ignore.

She made it to the coffee maker and turned it on, her mood briefly brightening with the comforting sounds of the machine and the smell of the coffee; for a moment, she leaned against the counter and rested her head in her hands, resolving, once again, to approach the day with a new, dynamic, positive perspective.

The sound of the baby crying drew her out of the beginnings of a dream, the insomnia finally having given way to dark curtains falling, falling, falling mercifully around her, and she jerked up and looked at the clock on the stove: it was 6:45. Late.

The coffee hadn't finished brewing but she grabbed the carafe and poured it into a cup sitting by the sink, then shook a hefty amount of artificial creamer in the cup and stirred it, hastily, with a fork. The house was rarely tidy by nighttime and it wasn't unusual for the morning to play out like this--a mad scramble for spoons, razors, and matching socks, a kind of real-life board game with real-life setbacks that, for some reason, never sank in.

Lifting the cup to her lips, she walked as fast as she could to the bedroom yelling "Hon! Hon! You're going to be late!" and then shook, with her free hand, the lumpy shape of her sleeping husband.

"Hon! Get up!" she said again, and gave him one more urgent push, then lurched away towards the baby's room. The movement--the turning, especially--prompted a fresh series of piercing jabs in her head, and she instinctively raised her hand to press it against the pain, but in her foggy state forgot about the cup she was holding; in a slow, dreamlike arc, the contents sloshed out and landed in a milky brown puddle around her.

"Goddammit! Fuck!" she said. The hangover and agitation were rising, a flood threatening to spill over, and as she opened the baby's door the smell of shit hit her and it was too much. The smell was too much, everything was too much, and as she reeled and fell to the floor the flood waters surged. Suddenly relieved, almost...happy, she opened her mouth and released a giant wave of white wine and coffee and another thing, a profound, unidentified thing, all over the legos and clothes littering the pink fluffy rug.

TRYING TO GET BACK IN THE SADDLE

DEAR EVERYONE,

I HAVE NOT BEEN ABDUCTED BY KILLER BEE CLONES AND SENT TO WORK IN THEIR HIVE ON PLANET FLEEDLEBOP. DON'T THINK I'VE GIVEN UP ON THIS BLOG--I JUST NEED TO TAKE A BREAK BECAUSE I'VE BEEN FEELING BURNT OUT.

AND I'VE BEEN DOING LOTS OF OTHER STUFF LIKE MAKING JEWELRY AND DRAWING, THOSE THINGS I CLAIM TO BE DOING IN MY BIO THING AT THE TOP BUT WHICH I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY DONE MUCH OF UNTIL NOW. FOR A LONG TIME THIS BLOG WAS ALL I THOUGHT ABOUT AND IT MADE ME VERY HAPPY AND VERY SAD ALL THE TIME AND NOW I'M DOING OTHER THINGS AND FRANKLY IT'S GREAT TO TAKE A FREAKING BREAK FROM IT.

Hello! I've returned, briefly, from Planet Beetleflop, whence I was sent by Spence. Who's Spence, you ask? Frankly, I don't know. All I know is he has plastic eyeballs and no arms. Overall he's a nice guy despite his abnormalities.

Sooo....the old blog question. Right. Right. Yes, it's true, I've been taking a bit of a break from it. And really only because I've been doing OTHER stuff, that stuff I mentioned already, the jewelry and children's book stuff. Hot dang dawg kebobble, it's been so great doing those things! I feel productive, finally, for the first time in a long time. I've made 70-something necklaces, and I started drawing on these illustrations for the FIRST children's book (not the one about the bug) I started, seven years ago, and although it feels slightly weird using watercolor pencils again (it's been a really long time) I can't really describe how satisfying it is.

And! Tonight I got some supplies (electrical wire, ribbon, beads) to start some mobiles, and all I can say is yee-f'ing-ha, this is what I want to be doing, thank god almighty in the deepest heaven and Planet Fruitcake, or wherever hE (note cryptic reversal of standard capitalization) resides.

I tried to write more to go with the last thing I wrote, but it sucked, it really did, and I got all weirded out about it, like I wasn't able to keep up the voice, or whatever, but lately I've been reconsidering that and all I can say is, writing is hard. Good writing is practically impossible. For me, anyway.

Readers, whoever you are these days, as always, I want to thank you for reading and checking in--I'm sorry there's been a void. I'll be trying harder to get back into this blog from now on and providing something of interest and entertainment to you.

Buenas noches a todos,

Isabel

THE GROCERY STORE

It started with chicken breasts falling, chicken breasts falling off the over-stuffed shelf to the row below, an equally crammed expanse of grayish-pink poultry bodies. The slapping noise jolted her out of her moody thoughts and brought her back to reality: the grocery store, Monday, 3 pm.

The act of bending to pick up the fallen packages embarrassed her almost as much as the noise they'd made, that bare and open sound of flesh striking flesh, a noise that was so raw and primal she wanted to close her eyes for a minute, just a minute, while she got her bearings and was able to respond, with a quick, confident smile, to the gazes of the young couple and the dirty toddler beside her.

"Just chicken breasts falling," she thought, but as the shelf continued to waver beneath its weight, her unsteady hand sent more chicken breasts falling like dominoes--like lemmings, she thought. It could have, it should have, been comical, but with that feeling in her head each slap felt like a warranted reproach, and with all eyes seemingly on her in painful accusation, all she really wanted to do was cry.

The toddler was grimy and scantily dressed for the chill of the meat aisle, and the mother had bad teeth, chipped and gaping, the teeth of a mouth she could hardly imagine kissing, let alone loving to the point of creating a baby, and she momentarily felt cynical, but then the absurdity of her own situation--the fact of the breasts falling, the fact of the breasts, the breasts that were not unlike her own breasts, the breasts she'd used to feed her kids, the "time bombs," she'd heard, "waiting to happen"--hit her and she succumbed once more to the feeling that had overtaken her, the feeling that had made everything so strange and shaky in the first place.

NOT SO FALLOW NO MORE

Hi everybubby!

Don't worry, I still haven't been devoured by a Siberian tiger. And I do mean to tend the fallow fields of my g-o-l-b in the near, near future, like maybe tomorrow, when my "rolly-polly chubby cheeky shit machine" (I'm quoting a friend here, describing her toddler son) is being watched by his new, wonderful nannies!

Joedy got back in one piece the other night, just as I was embarking on a nervous breakdown, standing in the middle of the house crying because I'd watched Black Beauty that afternoon with Lula and Malko and it was sooooo saaaaaaaad, I just couldn't get over it, poor Ginger, why did she have to die?!?! And little Merrylegs--why couldn't he be at the meadow at the end too? It wasn't FAIR! LIFE isn't FAIR!

I was having a teary crisis partly because certain hormonal fluctuations were taking place at that very time, but also because I was just ready for Joedy to be home. I was sick of being Solo Parent and listening to my thoughts all day long, I was sick of the intense quiet when Malko took a nap or when both of the kids were asleep. By day 8, I was over it--very, very over it.

While he was gone and since he got back I've been making craploads of jewelry, necklaces actually, and it's been an incredible blast. I've made 47 so far, and I'm going to try to get to 150 so that I can have enough to try to sell them. I found out how to do a booth on South Congress on Sundays, and I'm just so excited about it, I really can't wait to give this jewelry thing a shot!

In case you're wondering, I'm not giving up on the other projects, namely, the children's books--they're just on the side burners while I focus on this project, which I hope might bring in some much-needed greenbacks in the next month or so...

It's late now and I need to go to bed so I'm bouncy and perky in the morning. Oh, right, it's Valentine's Day! I'm not going to get all sappy on you like I did last year:

Happy goddamn Valentine's Day!

And good night.

HAPPY

Malko's sleeping and Lula's playing outside in the snow, yes, SNOW, so I have a little time to write.

As I said in the last post Joedy went to California for work on Monday; it's been remarkably easy managing the responsibilities that go with solo parenting this time around, probably because we have such a better house than the last one--comfortable and pretty and with a yard for the dogs and kids to play in--and because Lula's in school (except for today, due to the snow) and Malko's in day care. I didn't want this time alone with the kids to be difficult and stressful like the last times, and I'm really happy to say that I've not only been able to keep my cool (ok, there has been some yelling) but I've also managed to do a little extra, like wash the kitchen floor and cook something new and interesting (a bison and cauliflower pie).

Despite an insanely stupid washing machine saga involving three consecutive floods in the utility room, the purchase of a third washing machine when we had two perfectly good ones in the garage, lots of heaving around, and, ultimately, a clogged drain pipe, which started the whole stupid thing in the first place, I've survived, and even managed to produce clean clothing for the three of us, although much of it belongs to Black Ear, my old teddy bear, and is definitely a little snug. Malko has been throwing up off and on since last night (due to a bug, I think--hopefully not my culinary creation), so there's a pressing need to get this drain unclogged and one of our three washing machines hooked up; the maintenance guy said he'd be by today, so it should work out...except that it snowed and Austin's apparently frozen in place...so we'll see.

LATER

I just put the kids in bed, and the house is clean and warm--heaven. It's not even 8:30, so I'm pretty proud of myself, because of that and because I got Lula to eat warmed-up bison and cauliflower pie and salad without much complaint--she even said she liked it.

In a way it's been good being solo, because I've been able to have a constant, solid connection with Lula and Malko and to rule the house unhindered by the opinion of an Equally Important Person. The place has stayed remarkably tidy, not because Joedy's particularly messy but because I've decreed that during this period the house will be clean, and therefore less a source of stress. And having the kids to myself, when Malko, at least, tends to be a little obsessed with Joedy, has been really nice: holding him today when he was all sick and cuddly, hearing him say "Oh, Maman," feeling his hands reach up to my face to give me a hug, was beyond compare.

Late last night it started snowing, and this morning it was all white out, with heavy gray clouds overhead; with the bare brown tree trunks and the cardinals and blue jays flying here and there, it reminded me so much of Rhode Island, of that feeling of winter, that I was as excited as Lula, who jumped out of bed and was dressed and ready to play outside by 7:20. I watched her romping around in the back yard with Diablo and Astrid, her hat sticking straight up on her head and her too-big navy corduroys tucked into her rain boots, and although I'd barely slept I felt peaceful and happy, because she was experiencing one of my favorite childhood things: snow, and a day home from school to play in it.

Malko continued feeling sick all day, a clear indication being the fact that he only ate one cookie, which, if you know Malko, is absurd--the kid loves to eat like...like...like crack addicts love doing crack. A few times he allowed me to offer him some juice, which he drank good-naturedly, resting his head on my shoulder between sips and in general being the most adorable snuzzle monkey you can imagine; the rest of the time he dozed in our bed or on the couch, waking up now and then to look around with glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, just asking for another hug...

I said it's nice being solo, but when I talked to Joedy today, immediately falling into a highly detailed account of the stupid washing machine saga, complete with voices of certain players, I was reminded of how much we see eye-to-eye and how much, frankly, I feel like I'm living with my twin (in a good way) (most of the time). Granted, I'm somewhat better with time than he is, and he's somewhat better with banking than I am, but from the very beginning, from our first "date," I felt like we were connected somehow. The fact that I still feel that way, that I still love having a conversation with him, because half the time we're saying "Right! Exactly!" means--despite my present highly enjoyable ruler-of-the-roost status--I'm really looking forward to him coming home.

It's 10:08 and I'm going to go get into our sort of throw-up'y bed (that odor eater stuff works wonders!) but first I'm going to post a picture of Joedy and me from last weekend in Corpus. We'd been out doing some shopping for his trip, and stopped at a seafood place and had some delicious grub; the picture's a little dark and blurry, but I think you can tell we were happy...

STILL HERE!

DEAR READERS:

DO NOT WORRY. I HAVEN'T DIED. NOR, DESPITE THE URGINGS OF A CERTAIN PERSON RESIDING AMONGST ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WITHIN ME, HAVE I DECIDED TO PULL THE PLUG ON THIS BLOG.

WE WENT TO CORPUS CHRISTI LAST WEEKEND, AND THEN JOEDY WENT TO CALIFORNIA YESTERDAY, SO IT'S BEEN A LITTLE BUSY AROUND HERE. PLUS, I DIDN'T GET CHOSEN AS ONE OF THE FINALISTS IN A CERTAIN BLOG COMPETITION I ENTERED. THAT WAS A LITTLE DEPRESSING.

I'VE STARTED WRITING ENTRIES THE LAST COUPLE DAYS BUT HAVEN'T HAD ENOUGH TIME TO SIT FOR A WHILE SO I'LL GIVE IT ANOTHER SHOT TOMORROW--I FEEL SOMETHING BREWING ANYHOO.

THANKS, AS ALWAYS, FOR CHECKING IN, EVEN IF YOU'RE CLOSE FAMILY AND FRIENDS AND FEEL OBLIGED TO AND THAT'S WHY YOU DO IT.

HA HA!!!

SEE, I'M STILL HERE...