Molly Goatwax

Tiny little bites

Moving about gingerly and eating carefully, the day improved my condition enough to shower and see to some of the estate's concerns. With time for reflection, I could see how the stress of my grief with the burden of the Holidays primed my back muscles for injury. It's a good thing this truama did not manifest itself on other muscular or vascular structures. Queue up the Mighty Mouse theme song here: my best sister is coming tommorrow! Here she comes to save the day!  She will  help me sort some things out and be glad company. The cousins can play in the park across the street and go to the pool!

Enought to make you sick

Beeing no abler to work this morning on account of having thrown my back out, I was fortunate that my doctor was in and able to see me this morning. There was no one else in the waiting room of the office except for siblings, five and six, who loudly pestered each other to tears until their mother came out from the inner sanctum with two younger children to silence them with dire threats of beatings and meals missed. I sincerely hoped she was seeing about getting her tubes tied and tried to distract myself with a magazine, but there were none around besides Retirement Living, some vegetarian newsletters and United Poultry Concerns, whose comparison of food animal farming to the Holocaust I found upsetting. The receptionist couldn't wrap her head around my medical savings plan charge plate and was denying me my appointment for being uninsured when Hubby came in from parking the car and got her manager to explain it to her. My hero! Soon we were heading to the pharmacy to get some medicine. Too bad it made me throw up.

All but staring at the ceiling

How utterly immobile I am! Thank you for the cozy water bottle, Miss Janet! Now if only I could lift it to the sink to refresh it with Hottest Tap. How I very sorely regret having thrown out all those good drugs that were lying around this house when we started to clear it. And with nothing to do but surf the web with this wireless laptop while semi-recumbent, how quite wearisome! How have Britney Spears and Paris Hilton managed to hold our collective attention this long? Even weird news sites pall after a while with reports of human stupid and often morbid behaviors. If not for the designantion of Baltimore as the future chocolate capital of the country, I would be wallowing in utter dispair! Ow! Pass the nut clusters! Ow!

back out

My prediction of needing to spend some time on the floor seems prophetic, as I can barely move with a sprained backside. Time for the nine year old to figure out how to use the washer and dryer.

Looking Forward

Went to Molly's earlier on an ice and lemon errand, I caught a few moments by myself to sample the gases in the taps and collect what wits I have remaining, thinking ahead to my next set of tasks. The poltergeist made itself felt, with a bottle cap falling and other untoward noises-or maybe it was the trains, though none were passing then. When Dad died the radio always drifted back to his station and chile recipes would float to the floor. Hubby saw him peering 'round the corner at us one night and accurately described a man he never saw. Yesterday making dinner in Mother's kitchen and rinsing the good dishes was difficult, because she was not there to scold or be asked advice. But she remains. This house and my bar are haunted, but I've reconciled myself to it. I'm sad but also hopeful, and I look forward to a New Year. I'll get my hair done, move into a different house and  sort through all these complications.

I'll be on the floor for a while.

All from scratch! A roast of beef, whipped potatoes, yams (not canned!) with molasses, pecans and marshmallows, corn bread and mushroom dressing, that green bean dish-you know the one!-and of course gravy. Gravy starts out as a kind of soup early in the morning. A big old onion and a few handfills of quartered mushrooms get simmered with a bit of pepper, a bone if there's one from the meat and this and that until it smells mellow, then it gets strained and chilled until we add the burnty drippings and flour. I make the best gravy anywhere if it thickens right, which most times, it does. The adult daughter's boyfriend brought over some very delicate brussles sprouts on a bed of spinach and gorgonzola. He also had a six of Old Peculier in his box. With clean-up, ten hours on my pins. Oh, ho! We never got to the hazelnut praline cheesecake! It will be good with coffee in the morning, or I can have marzipan...OR BOTH! So many blessings! I wish you all as many and more this Yule evening.

With bells on

What kind of kid sleeps late on a day like today? Hubby and I are not complete heathens. There's a large pile of presents waiting for the nine year old, but she's snoozing away.

Diversions

Well the food at the office party was hearty and fabulous, the gift revolting, and the chatter, of which I did not partake, was about hearing aides and surgeries gone horribly wrong, with the resulting lawsuits. Tales of vegetative children and withered sisters abounded. After the office get together I went to recover at Molly's. As I lit a votive in gratitude for my beer I was advised: "Goldfish make good pets." Books of matches with enigmatic messages have been appearing  in the bowls lately, with sayings such as "Shave that head", "Beat me, whip me, make me write bad checks"and "You will hurt your foot", as well as more naughty phrases.  I sat down and contributed "Weasles are your best protection", "Seances are good clean fun"and "Tatoos get you chicks". There were some others, "Don't snort pepper"and "Blue is a good color for your feet", I recall. I have a list prepared for the next series, with writing tips: "Ït is wrong to ever split an infinitive", "Comparisons are as bad as cliches", "Profanity sucks" and "Be more or less specific"... Perhaps the revelers at Molly's will leave more little pearls of wisdom or predictions on the inside of the matchbooks in the bowls on the bar.

Longing for lunch

Oooo...a potluck! At the office! With ribs and lamb and kabobs! I wonder if any of my co-workers will bring egg nog? I know if this guy worked here, he'd bring some! And then we get to leave for the long weekend!

Emerging

The sun is shining, my sinuses are clearing and I have Italian chocolate. It's not marzipan, but still! I feel less grumpy, dumpy, globular and spongey, and, I sold a painting out of Molly's last night! While some walking around money is nice, it's nicer still to feel validated as an artist and nothing does that quite like the exchage of cold hard cash for my goofiness captured on leaded linen. I had another deal going in which I agreed to trade a painting for the refurbishment of the bar's electric sign, but then Hubby joggled its switch and it came back on. Sooner rather than later the sign will go out again and while the fellow's up on a ladder changing the tubes he may as well tighten the fixture's sides and generally spruce it up. For this work he will get a gold leafed portrait of the St. Patrick's day dinner I tricked my mother into eating a few years ago. Oh, and I think I may detect some Joy on the horizon...