Ikea Spoils

So here you have it, the results of our Ikea trip last weekend. All the while I was lamenting that I didn’t want our apartment to look like an Ikea showroom and I bought two things that say Ikea the most. But I love them. It does open up the room, and it brightens that dark corner where nothing but dust and Husband’s bike had been living. The bike has been moved elsewhere.

Before (as in before mirror but also before couch and paint)

Not pictured is a light we purchased for the “kitchen” – one of those industrial,  hang from the ceiling jobs that Ikea sells for cheap. We had to rig yet another powerstrip (taped to the wall, this one) but oh boy can we see the stove now! No more guessing if we’re burning food, it’s so exciting.

After. (ooh, retro!)

In honor of being able to see in the corners where we usually relegated the dirt, we cleaned our apartment. Nothing like a fresh space with new things to make a girl feel like staying in her apartment for another six months.

Next on the list: Carpets and someone to do our laundry.

Spring Cleaning

The timing isn’t right to switch pills. The timing is never right to switch pills, really. No time is good to go wonky in the brain. Where things were mostly predictable now they are not. Predictably unpredictable, that’s how I am.

It makes me wonder what is really so bad with my brain. I went through years where I was supported by anti-depressant alone. I never threw things at walls then. I never cried and wanted to scream. What is different now that needs to be fixed? What has changed?

It’s February – not quite spring. The weather teases us with warm, sunny days followed by cold, rainy ones. I want to move out of my apartment. Everything about it seems dark. There isn’t enough light, that’s true. There aren’t enough electrical sockets, either. It leads us to the superfluous use power strips. Imagine power strips plugged into power strips and you have our apartment. It’s sad, really, because lurking just behind all those fire hazards are little blocks of REAL electrical connections right there on the WALL but not yet live. There has been promise of this “New Electricity” since we moved in a year ago but for now the empty sockets peppering our walls at nice, convenient intervals just taunts us.

We can’t move out of the apartment, not just yet. Husband needs a job first and we are supposedly trying to save money. Naturally our solution is Ikea. It’s cheaper than getting a new apartment and hopefully with its obnoxiously loud color palette I can find something there that will spruce up the space. Lamps will be bought. Space will somehow be made in the cramped living room / kitchen / dining room. How, I don’t know, but surely Ikea does. (And if Ikea doesn’t, Apartment Therapy does.)

And, in the meantime, we will continue.We'll do laundry and go to the movies and keep trying to make friends and I will keep going back to the doctor until things feel right in my head. We'll keep adapting to our space and I will keep adapting to the brain of mine because, well, love what you've got, right? Doesn't do any good to spend all our time wishing it was different. Make a change or stop whining.

That's the moral of the story.

Last Weekend

Washington was lovely. (I promise you there will be photos.) Our hotel was just three blocks from the White House and the weather was incredible. This meant we spent most of the weekend wearing out our feet and burning off the calories of vacation food. Not that we spent a lot of time thinking about the calories in our food – we didn't. We were on a mini break.

The weekend was exactly what we needed. For me, it has been over a year since I have taken anything resembling a trip (something with a hotel, eating out and sights to be seen). We went to the Poconos in the fall but somehow that didn’t feel like a break, I guess because we never left Pennsylvania. I had an awesome Bachelorette Party but that feels like a million years ago, now.

For Husband, the break was from his job search. Anyone who has looked for a job in the last year or so knows exactly what I mean.

We saw all the major sights to be seen. Well, we saw everything that was in walking distance of The Mall, anyway, most of which was under some form of construction.  It ruined some potentially great photos but mostly we didn’t mind. The weather on Saturday was practically balmy, forcing us to play with the placement of our coats – on or off our bodies, under our arm or over. We wandered in and out of the Natural History Museum (The Hope Diamond!) and the Air and Space Museum (where I spent a full thirty minutes sitting like a sleep lump outside of the Albert Einstein gift shop). We walked from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol.

“I don’t even know what they do in this building!” I scoffed. Husband took photos, despite the construction. I was pretty tired by then.

At dinner that night we chose a restaurant arbitrarily. We were uncomfortably wedged diagonally between two tables, one of which did not know that I could hear them when they were talking about me, the other occupied by a couple who looked all at once bored and uncomfortable to be with each other. He was trying too hard to impress her and she, frankly, couldn’t give a damn. To make up for poor dining we went to a pub and had overpriced cocktails. I insisted that Husband have a shot with me so we ordered a couple of very green Thin Mints. They were on the house.

Before leaving D.C. we went to the National Aquarium. Fun fact: I did not know that my own husband loves Aquariums as much as I do. This is something we had never spoken about before, but how often does a love of aquariums really come up in a relationship? When you have the opportunity to go to one, that’s when you talk about it. Suffice it to say that, despite the relative shabbiness of the aquarium, both of us enjoyed it. They had, for reasons that weren’t totally clear, an albino crocodile and a handful of snakes.

We decided that we would definitely visit D.C. again, vowing to return in about a year when all of the photo disrupting construction should be done. We want to take some Frenchies and visit the International Spy Museum. There will be time for all this.

For now we’ve shuffled back into the real world.  But only because we have to.

Happy Birthday Husband!

It just so happens that today In addition to being an overly-marketed love holiday, this the day of Husband’s birth. He is a year younger than me and so those of you who know how old I am know how old Husband is. If you do not know this information you will never know.

The day, as a Hallmark Holiday, means little to me. I have celebrated it, and pondered it and wished I weren’t alone on it, but now I have a real reason to recognize February 14^th. Today is the day that my Husband was brought into this world by his petite maman and his doting papa. It was a joyous day for them, and now I too share in their joy.

The thing is, Husband, you have brought so much richness to my life I simply cannot imagine my world without you anymore. Well, I can but I hate it. Even though sometimes we can’t stand each other, and sometimes we don’t see eye to eye, it’s always you who brings me back to earth and back to life. Our first year together was infinitely harder than any couple’s first year should be, but you were there every single night, for better or for worse, and you still are and so I will be until there’s no breath left in our shriveled old bodies. We’re going to be two tall, old people, watching our TV Shows together and holding hands. I want that so much you can hardly even imagine it.

Before there was you there was no one. It was a string of no ones who didn’t challenge me and who didn’t make me a better person and who didn’t love me despite my ever changing shape and temperament. Before you there was a void. But you have filled that. You are my everything and I want to be there for you as your everything on every single completely imperfect day that we live. For your birthday, I give you that.

That, and the promise that this year is going to be so much better than the last. We’re going to make it this year, we’re going to finally start living out our dreams. And that’s worth celebrating. Thank you for being in my life, for being my friend, for being my husband. I love you.

Next year I'm buying you one of these.

And Gosh Darnit, People Like Me

Soooooo, actually I won the chili cook off after all. By all accounts it was not that great. It was a sweet chili, which under the laws of chili, does not usually merit “The Best” chili but somehow, I won. I hear there might have been ballot tampering.

I figured since I actually did win that I would share the recipe, in case anyone else would like to try and award winning chili. It is an alteration of this recipe, as follows (I altered it because I don’t like spicy things all that much):

INGREDIENTS:

2 teaspoons oil

2 onions , chopped

3 cloves garlic , minced

1 lb lean ground beef

1 (14 ½ ounce) can diced tomatoes

1 12oz can or bottle dark beer

½  cup of espresso

1 (6 ounce) can tomato paste

1 can vegetable broth

½ cup brown sugar

1 tablespoon cumin

2 tablespoon cocoa

1 teaspoon Italian spices

1 teaspoon cayenne

1 teaspoon salt

4 (15 ounce) cans kidney beans

DIRECTIONS

Heat oil.

Cook onions, garlic and meat until brown.

Add tomatoes, beer, coffee, tomato paste and beef broth.

Add spices Stir in all cans of kidney beans and peppers.

Reduce heat and simmer for 2 hours.

Alas, I did not photograph any of the winning chili, because I only ate one bowl out of the whole batch. Not that I couldn’t have had more, I just didn’t. Of the thirteen different chilis I can only admit to trying two, but there was a pretty damn good potato soup and some awesome cornbread. I am not actually that big of a fan of chili. (Oh the irony!)

The reigning champion – an adorable grey haired woman named Bonnie – was the most gracious loser of a title ever. She came and congratulated me on my win and I took the chance to assure her that it would never happen again, mostly because I can probably never replicate this recipe. She didn’t seem to concerned.

My prize, lovingly put together by my sister (the host of the Chili Cook Off and fierce competitor) was this recipe book full of yummy southern style recipes, a bottle of Tabasco and a give card to Baskin Robins (or Dunkin Donuts, if I want), to cool off after all that hot chili. What an awesome prize!

I am still scratching my head on the whole thing, really. I personally think it was a taste novelty that made it stick in people’s heads, but whatever! Considering I am rarely a winner of things, I am happy to take the accolades and run away with them to Mexico. I hear they have great chili down there!

Our Meteorologist Know Their Stuff

It snowed.

It snowed exactly the amount and duration that the weathermen said it would. I am impressed, to say the least.

It reminds me that I need to buy new sweaters this year:

Off to the chili cook-off where, upon tasting my chili, I have decided I will definitely not win. But at least I tried?

Finally The Weekend

The week is finally over. For me it seemed endless. I can’t remember what happened Monday (or maybe I just don’t want to.) Oh, but it’s over now. It almost makes me want to buy a bottle of champagne, just to celebrate it being done. Have you ever felt like that at the end of a week? It’s not as though anything so serious or terrible happened, it’s just that the damn thing just seemed to never want to stop. Why aren’t weekends ever like that?

The snow has come and gone, leaving persistent little patches of white here and there. It was the perfect kind of snow – not so much that I had to dig my car out or worry about the roads, but enough to make the trees hang a little low and frame my winding path to work in crisp black and white. It made me happy, actually. Funny how little things like that can change your mood.

This weekend I have been entered into a chili cook-off. I have never been a part of such a thing, always linking them to state fairs and cowboy hats. If I had one I would probably wear it.

I don’t have a special chili recipe. I honestly don’t think I have ever cooked chili for dinner that didn’t come out of a can. My favorite chili is Amy’s Organic Vegetarian, if that tells you how much I know about the stuff. But my sister asked if I wanted to enter one and I said yes and now, despite my initial reluctance, I am very much looking forward to putting together a ribbon winning chili. Apparently there is a woman who wins every year and I plan to beat her. Never mind that I am competing against my sister, her husband and half the congregation of St. Paul’s Lutheran church. I am going to win.

Tonight it’s supposed to snow again. I haven’t seen the geese on the ground since last week. I guess that they got the memo that winter, late as it may be, has finally arrived. It’s a good time to stay inside and cook a chili.

Waiting For New News

I saw the flock of geese again. This time they had landed in the safety of a veteran’s cemetery, hundreds of flat headstones paving the way for their webbed feet. Each goose was turned East, head up and facing the rising sun, slowly marching across the crispy, frost-covered grass. They seem to not know that the meteorologists are calling for snow this week.

Whether we will actually get snow or not is another question entirely. While they say it will come this afternoon, the clouds seem lofty and unsure. The sun peeks through in places taunting us with yesterday’s fifty degree temperatures. Will it really snow tonight? Will the geese have flown to someplace warmer by then?

Before my coffee in the mornings I find I am awash with the blues. It frustrates me because I want to be happy. I pass a kid on the side walk who is standing on one foot, his right leg folded over his left in a sort of teetering number four while he cleans something out of his shoe. I want to find this funny, because it is, but no smile comes. I hate my brain for this.

Then I have my coffee and something clicks and I start to feel normal again. I wonder if anyone has ever done a study on this – the effects of caffeine on depression.

In other news there isn’t much other news. Things feel like they are inching forward and Husband and I are standing at the sidelines screaming like crazed NASCAR fans - as if that will make things go faster. Spoiler Alert: It won’t.

The good news is it’s February and that means next month is March and so spring is really just around the corner. My appointment with the psychiatrist is next week and then Husband and I are going to spend a long, much needed weekend away in Washington, D.C. I suppose we could have waited for cherry blossom time but frankly both of us have the travel bug pretty badly. New York City is the furthest I have gone in year and it just doesn’t feel natural.

It’s days like this I wish I could just be rich already. 

Oh but really - wouldn’t we all?

Brain Farts

The other day the therapist said something so poignant I thought “I should write that down, I will want to see that again later.” Then I promptly forgot it.

Similarly, while at WholePaycheck for lunch, I spent a good ten minutes agonizing over the ingredients of each item I wanted, checking it for nut content. I couldn't have the blackened tofu because there were sesame seeds, a particular sandwich had sesame oil in it somewhere (sesame for some reason falls in with the nut allergy), what used to be my favorite salad has chopped walnuts on it - I couldn't really eat anything, it felt like.

I settled on a sandwich, finally, content that my purchase would satisfy my unnamed craving. After a lengthy wait at the checkout I sat down at a table in the seating area, ready to consume. I laid my tomato, basil and pesto sandwich in front of me and then I sighed heavily in exasperation. Pesto. Pesto has nuts in it.

I ate half of it anyway, as a sort of punishment for choosing something so stupid and not nut-free as pesto.

In the spirit of admission, I have to mention that I have been walking around for most of the day with the zipper of my pants down. It would be an understatement to say I am becoming my mother.

Things In the Air

The geese are confused by the mild weather we've been having. Driving to work I saw them circling like sparrows – a flock of a hundred geese all organizing to land in someone’s back field. They didn't seem to know what direction to go so they just collected there as if holding an emergency meeting at the town hall.

Further on down the road I caught a glimpse of what I felt sure was one of these flying through the air:

I wondered if they were going to drop another flock of geese on us from above.

I have decided that this weekend’s attacks were more than just fleeting. There is definitely something amiss with my medications. I feel as though my nerves are just below the surface waiting to be attacked by any unsuspected menace that might brush up against me. The slightest provocation makes me defensive and teary; regular noises seem repetitive and loud. The sound of a person in the office next to me pulling french fries out of the box makes me cringe. Crunching one room over sounds like thunder in my ears. I feel an anxiety attack coming on.

I called the psychiatrist and asked them to move my appointment up and it bought me another week. I marvel at the fact that there isn’t some kind of fast track for those of us who know we need our meds fixed. Wouldn’t they want to keep all the bonkers people drugged up and off the streets as much as possible? But the supply of wackos verses the demanded head shrinkers isn’t a balanced ratio. I personally spend a maximum of fifteen minutes with my psychiatrist – naturally being charged for an hour – but on a good visit I am up and off of his couch in five minutes. He is a well oiled crazy-fixing machine, pumping out prescriptions like overpriced gas. We all need him to keep running.

                                                  

For the time being I am laying low. Husband is being very understanding, if not cautious. He knows what could happen if this boat gets rocked too hard and he is treading lightly. A visit to the therapist helps, if only for a couple of days. I have these things to keep me afloat.

On the ride home I expected to see the geese still there, hunkered down on a wet field waiting for some meteorological message of where to go next but they had already gone. The afternoon was brilliantly blue and warmer than any day in the beginning of February should be. I drove with my windows down and the radio up. I have these things to keep me afloat.