xylophone in the forest.
if all commercials were this lovely, i think i would be much less bothered by them repeating all the time when i’m watching tv on the internet.
do you want to hear a xylophone in the forest?
yes, of course you do. click below.
you’re welcome.
[from here]
the very best thing of today.
with some explanation about how this came about that will happen later once i can digest what i heard last night at the frank chimero lecture, today begins a series of telling you about the very best thing that happened to me today. maybe with explanation, most likely without qualification, and hopefully with pictures, but who can say.
all i know is that i can write, every day.
i need to write, every day.
and some days, more.
the very best thing.
* * * * *
the very best thing that happened to me today was walking from the car on my first time driving in a month (almost a contender for the VBT) and seeing a meticulously laid out yard art installation on the wall in the yard next to the dumpster.
courtesy of disney tchotchkes.
the set up:
okay, i’m really going to need to get a basset hound now.
and, what would an art installation be without a security guard:
the very best thing, folks.
an e.t.a.
the time will come that i don’t get a lump in my throat and have to take a deep breath when i see something surrounding the teaching profession. this week it was parenthood (we’re watching the first season before we head old school with watching seasons of mad about you) when lorelai gilmore sarah braverman starts dating the 11th grade english teacher, mr. cyr.
there are probably many reasons for it, good and bad and none that i can fully express.
i guess my response can be summed up in the same way that sarah braverman answers the note given to her by mr. cyr later in the episode:
it’s complicated.
i just wonder when.
monday evening ughpdate.
it’s monday morning usually, but i was busy working this morning. i was in the mood to WORK this morning, which is unusual. usually i arrive to monday mornings a bit sluggish and reluctant, but this morning i was all business. anyone else? just me?
what’s going on this week:
1. tuesday night girls group.
we started all getting together, this small group of girls who knew some people well and others not at all. we got together because we loved god, loved life, loved friendship, but didn’t love any of the contrivance that occurs when any of those things are forced. we tenuously committed to coming, wondering when it would all fall apart due to busyness and families and the ebb and flow of life.
that was over three years ago.
this group is one of my most valued possessions. i’d definitely grab this as i ran out of a burning building.
2. candy cane.
i trade in the trusty but annoying crutches which have been my constant companion these last two weeks for…a cane. and then we’ll celebrate my 87th birthday. our second family, the billigs, are coming down to spend some time in town and mr. billig will be lending me a cane to aid my hobbling around. maybe mine will be made of peppermint!
3. grant-writing.
i’ve been getting into grant-writing as of late, and although it makes my head spin and make me feel not unlike a blindfolded dart player, i really like it. if the next few months goes well with this organization i’m working with, i may have a regular thing with it to complement my copywriting i’m doing as part of our company, fixer design.
working with my husband is a blessing, and i tell myself that EVERY.DAY. 😉
4. zeitoun.
since i couldn’t seem to procure a local book club, my oldest friend (in terms of time, not age) erin decided to start up an online one. so far we’ve read two books together, but this last one i couldn’t read because somebody at the library didn’t turn their book in on time. we’re on a book-buying hiatus right now (the worst first-world problem EVER 😉 and so i am at the mercy of the library patrons.
serves me right, however. i have seriously bad library karma and you would blush if i told you the amount of library fines i’ve accrued over the years.
i’m going to see if i can somehow speed-read it in the next few days and catch up with my book group before the next one.
5. confessions.
some very good friends and i used to have a private message board with each other on which we posted (among other things) these terrible confessions, embarrassing and deeply lame things we did/do. it was hilarious and cathartic, and talking about my library fines over the years reminded me of that.
of course, most of the time these were things you don’t want shared at dinner parties but don’t mind saying out loud.
the real confessions hardly ever happen like that.
6. racquetball.
not me, of course. an entirely enclosed room with people with racquets who swing hard at a little rubber ball that ping pongs off the echo chamber and hurtles towards my head is definitely the sport played in my 7th circle of hell. my brother, though, loves is. well, he loves any sport he can be competitive at, and a few non-sports too. he and the boy will be playing racquetball tomorrow at 6:30 in the a.m. the boy is deceptively sporty and my brother is competitive, so this should be an interesting morning.
7. faux-range julius.
i’m combining clementines, coconut milk and a little vanilla in the blender tomorrow in an attempt to make my version of an orange julius. i’ll let you know how it turns out.
8. easter.
totally snuck up on me this year. it’s sunday? whoa. WHOA.
* * * * *
happy almost easter, friends! i have to go eat dinner now.
book four: laura hillenbrand’s “unbroken”.
fin: 13 april 2011
cliches are often trivialized for their ubiquity, but there is a reason
that phrases like “triumph of the human spirit” stick around:
stories like this.
[so good it merits another sentence: hillenbrand’s writing is so ineffably compelling that i devoured this book in 2 days, like i did her earlier triumph, seabiscuit.]
what’s cooking?
yeah, that’s not my kitchen. i wish. our deeee (wait for it, barney stinson-style) lightful kitchen is a one-and-a-half butt kitchen, which means you can get about 1.5 people in the kitchen, as well as about 1.5 dishes on the counter and then it’s at its limit. and what with the ZERO drawers, cracked floor tiles, poorly grouted counter which traps food in it for eternity and no windows — DREAM COOKING SPACE. right there.
but that doesn’t matter, because some excellent things are cooking in there this week.
that, and it does contain the periodic table of spices.
but more on that later.
for no other reason than this is something i like to know about other people and because, well, i need to put it together for the week anyway, this is what’s cooking around here for the week, not laid out in daily fashion because we’re orderly and all, but seriously, we’re never that organized. i will always be the girl with some crumbs in the bottom of my purse, know what i mean?
also, a HUNORMOUS thanks to my mother who graciously came and cooked/prepped nearly everything below, and to my long-suffering husband who will cook/prepare everything below for us due to my zombie foot, named for the bizarre coloring the puffyfoot has now taken on.
we’ve had friends bring us some meals this weekend when, upon accidentally slamming my fingers in the car door on an evening drive designed to get me out of the house for once, the husband shouted and shook his fist at the sky proclaimed that he needed a break. we realized that him taking care of everything that i take care of AND having a seriously full workload this week (with no imminent end in sight for my recovery), we needed a bit of help.
our friends brought us great take-out (seriously, chick-fil-a counted as great take out 🙂 and frozen pizzas and whatever they could to tide us over the weekend until….
mom came home.
the second-best three-greatest-words.
my mom was on a much needed vacation last week to visit her best friend, and so missed our mini-meltdown over the weekend, but came right over and spent nearly all day monday cooking food for the week for us — using our food and a bit from the grocery store. that might not sound like a big thing, but i tell you, a few nights of take-out or other meals is fine, but then i just long for the food that we eat.
our recipes.
our food, not going to waste.
our favorite dishes, served on our dishes.
when you are laid up like i am, it’s small things like that that make a big difference.
so here’s what’s cooking around here, and email me [saradarlingblog [at] gmail [dot] com] if you want any of the recipes and don’t want to troll around the internet like i do looking at all the delicious food blogs out there.
note: all meals homemade unless marked. names with a * come from mark bittman’s uber-awesome cookbook, how to cook everything vegetarian.
BREAKFASTS:
grapefruit
homemade granola, adapted from orangette’s recipe
mountain high vanilla yogurt
green smoothies
LUNCHES:
mom’s chicken salad sandwiches (this chicken salad rules, and uses up the last of the chicken meat we had — apples, onions, celery…so good.)
falafel in pitas with tzatziki*
veggie burgers (mom-made and dr. praeger’s are our favorites)
blue cheese potato salad*
leftovers
veggie sticks
DINNERS:
quinoa/black bean stuffed bell peppers
salads (most every night)
BBQ roasted veggies with buffalo/blue cheese patties
spinach/feta penne pasta
artichokes/spinach/sundried tomato pizzas (homemade dough)
mom’s mac & cheese casserole
lentils w/ potatoes and curry*
chocolate chip cookies (slightly adapted) (yes, for dinner!)
get on it.
“The advice I like to give young artists, or really anybody who’ll listen to me, is not to wait around for inspiration. Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just show up and get to work. If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightning to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens. But if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and something else that you reject will push you in another direction. Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.”
– Chuck Close
h.r. puffy foot.
we’ve taken to calling my A+ ankle sprain “the puffy foot” or sometimes, if we’re feeling polite, “mr. puffy foot”. or, h.r. puffy foot after the bizarre children’s cartoon character of the late 60’s.
although i’ve been off the heavy drugs for a few days now, occasional episodes of pain cause my mind to melt and leak out of my ears, and then after i take something for it, the brain mush then detours to find its way out of my mouth.
hence, the iterations of “the puffy foot” that have come into being lately:
mr. puffy foot
senor puffy foot (for that south-of-the-border flair)
herr puffy fuss (pronounced foooose, like the germans do)
for-the-love-what-is-at-the-end-of-my-leg
and, despite my busy schedule of trolling the internet, napping, doing some work, watching netflix, reading, looking pitifully hungry to remind the husband to feed me at regular intervals (he’s a rather unpredictable eater), i decided to get all technically correct (at least internet-correct, as we all know the info on this machine can seriously range) and get the following:
die geschwollene fuss (note the AWESOME german adjective for puffy which sounds an awful lot like the word ‘swollen’)
el pie hinchado (spanish)
le pied gonflé (the french, which makes my hunchbackfoot sound rather like a tasty soufle, no?)
or
de gezwollen voet (in dutch, which sounds like the german translation got a little drunk, sloppy and chatty)
of course, this is the internet, so all of these phrases could just be
translations of “this injury has made the girl go ROUND THE BEND.”
“exercise is bad for you” or, “i swear i know how to use a treadmill”: a story through one-sided dialogue.
in which i tell you the story of how i became the valedictorian of ankle sprains, rendering myself immobile for an entire week, told entirely through my actual answers to the questions i was asked by 16 different people immediately following said event.
“yes, yes, i think i’m fine. i think i may have just rolled my ankle. you can go back to your workout now, i’m sure i’m fine.”
[minutes go by]
“hey mom, you need to come get me RIGHT NOW. i definitely sprained the crap out of my ankle or, perhaps, you know, severed off my entire foot….i don’t know if it’s broken, and troy’s too far away and i can’t get him on the phone right now. i could possibly pass out from the pain. thanks.”
“hey dear, i just tried to call you…oh, you’re talking to my mom on the other line? my car? i think someone needs to come get me now before we figure out the car situation. okay. yeah, i’m going to die now. okay, love you, bye.”
“hi sir. yes, i think you’re right…it seems to be much more serious than i initially thought. you’ll go get someone on staff? that’d be great.”
[more minutes go by, then i’m suddenly surrounded by seriously half of the ymca staff]
“i usually don’t go to this ymca [the north one] but i was up here running errands, so i thought i’d pop in.”
“well, i usually run on the treadmill and have for years, so i do know how one works. no, i didn’t fall off the treadmill. i dropped my ipod while i was running so i stepped on to the side rails to get it and then hopped down to pick it up. during the hopping endeavor, i caught the right edge of my shoe on the carpet and did something to my ankle…”
“…inverted, yes thank you, that’s definitely the word for it — i inverted my ankle and then ended up kind of over-correcting and inverting the ankle a bit the other way.”
“yes, i’m quite talented!”
“yes, i’m sure a lot of people saw me since i was in the very front row of treadmills at the busiest time of day. i sat there for awhile, nearly blacking out, and then turned my treadmill off and attempted to walk out of there.”
“a few people did come help me, including this nice gentleman who watched me hobble out of the exercise room while finishing his non-dramatic workout on the exercise bike. he originally got some help, but…”
“well, i would have asked for help when the first people came around but, well, i thought it wasn’t as serious at the time, even though it hurt like hell, but then as i was sitting here in the hallway, i realized that i couldn’t walk on it and it was blowing up the size of a small planet. i also was spacing out from the pain, which nearly made me vomit.”
“no, i didn’t actually vomit, so there’s no need for plastic gloves.”
“it definitely looks awesome. pretty right? it looks like i’m smuggling oranges in my socks.”
“no, i didn’t plan on driving out of here. my mom is a nurse and she’s on her way.”
“she lives about 10 minutes away.”
“yes, she’s a nurse, so we’ll probably be headed to the hospital.”
“yes, i have used a treadmill before, i promise.”
“well, i’ve been sitting out here for about 15 minutes, because i was hoping another staff member at the Y would come by and i could ask for help, but they’ve all been strangely occupied. i’m glad you are…all, wow, there’s seven of you around me now…i’m glad you are all here now to help.”
“hey look, you brought a wheelchair!”
“pain level? what range are we talking here?”
“1-10…i’d say i’m at an 8…i know, i smile a lot and seem friendly. it’s what i do in a crisis.”
“you can let her in, that’s my mom.”
“hey mom i…..(devolves into muffled crying and yelps of pain. good times!)
[minutes later, at the hospital]
“my name is sara derose, my address is……..blah blah blah blah….”
“well, i didn’t actually fall, i more ‘hopped’ off a treadmill…”
“no, not when it was moving.”
“no, i did not FALL off the treadmill.”
“oh, you fell today too? that sucks for you. it must not have been too bad if you are walking around LIKE YOU ARE FINE. and i didn’t fall.”
“fine, whatever, i FELL.”
“yes, i would like something for the pain. do you have a hacksaw? perhaps you could just lop of my leg underneath the knee. vicodin? i suppose that’s an adequate replacement.”
[several minutes, x-rays, patient wristbands later]
“well, i’m really glad it’s just a sprain too—–” [interrupted by nurse]
“oh, a grade-4 sprain? on a scale of….?”
“oh, the scale only goes up to 4. so that would mean mine’s the worst then right?…3-7 weeks recovery, and at least 1-2 weeks completely off of it. that sounds fun.”
“yes, mom, i DO like to read…just not all day every day coupled with the fact that I can’t even really get to the bathroom myself.”
“yes, i DO know how to use a treadmill, nurse*.”
“yes, dear, you are correct: i am definitely the valedictorian of ankle sprains.”
* * * * *
it should be said that despite my sarcastic recounting, i was treated incredibly well by the entire ER nursing staff, and the doctor. the admitting person was a little airheaded, but you know, whatevs.
for insight into the judge’s deliberations granting valedictorian status and awesome photos of my quasimodo-foot (because, seriously, my foot is NOT normally that size), continue on below:
ankle view side A.
notice the nice eggplant coloring. the judges will score that higher for sure, as well as the fact that the swelling spans both side of the ankle — that’s talent.
ankle view side B.
while the coloring hasn’t fully developed, it does span beyond the ankle to travel up the leg. while the coloring gets the ankle sprain about a B+, the sheer deformity and size of the swelling, the pain factor, and the spectacularly lame way that the injury occurred render the judge’s grade of the injury an A+.
valedictorian status, people.
sunday: a short story.
on sunday, after planning our meals for the week, i made a whole big homemade batch of this
and then made whole wheat pizza dough so that we could then munch on this for dinner
after which we finally got the office decorennovations finished with the floating shelves the boy made for me on saturday
upon which this tired person needed some of this
it was a great weekend.
the end.
sara, darling. 
