Ahhhh, refreshing. . .

It is sooo hot.
    It is so hot that the other day as I was cleaning the kitchen I saw a jar of flax seed that somebody had left me when she moved away.  (V's mom) and I had a terrific idea for some relief from the heat.
You see, I noticed that below the English word "Flax seeds" on the label, it had the Spanish word, "Linaza." 
    Hmmmm.... Linaza, I thought to myself.  Didn't I used to see a refreshing linaza drink when I lived in Costa Rica?  I remember that it was a clear liquid with small black seeds floating in it.  I sincerely don't remember what it tasted like (did I ever try it?  Probably).  But, suddenly, a nice cool fresco de linaza sounded like it would really hit the spot.
    So, I took the flax seeds and boiled them for about three minutes (my instinctive"feel" for cooking led me to this technique rather than any actual research).
     Then I put ice in a glass and a touch of sugar and poured in my fresco... Flaxaide, anyone?

     What's this?  It's slimey.  Surely a little more water to thin it out and a little more sugar will do the trick!  Nope, it's still slimey; no, it's still disgusting.  Frugal me tried to drink it up - but I couldn't get down more than half the glass.
       Just then - - - a flash of memory... It wasn't fresco de linaza that I used to see in Costa Rica, it was fresco de HORCHATA. 
        Oh well, I think, maybe I can still use the slimey mixture for something... I pour some oatmeal in the mucous-like substance, oh, and some old raisins.  Maybe I could throw in an egg and try to cook it?  Breakfast????
       But, here's the clincher.

        A little while later I'm sitting next to my hubby and I tell him about the linaza; before I really give him any details - he says to me, "It's slimey isn't it?  In Colombia they use it as a laxative." 

     Ha HA HA HA - I was trying to get down a nice refreshing ice cold glass of laxative. 
Not to fear - I seem to have stopped myself before doing any damage.  I'm going to say that you'd probably have to be really desperate to drink enough of that stuff to have any effect.

    I threw out the mixture (sorry, world). 

She's a keeper

That's how my teenager described this girl he'd clicked with at the park last night in our town's Fourth of July celebration.  He went down with his friends.  H. and I didn't feel like leaving the house.  It was too hot.  What a change; every other year we've kind of gone just to keep an eye on our son.

Anyway, why is she a "keeper"?  Because she has watched all seven seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. 

close call

The most idiotic thing that I have done for a long time... Fell off a stool* and gave myself the most painful bruise I've ever had (about 6 inches diameter).  I couldn't sleep well and, in fact, it hurt to walk - I had a limp.

I was painting the living room and wanted to reach the top of the wall so that I could paint a neat seam between the wall and ceiling. 

On the bright side, I'm almost all better now and it's only been two weeks!  Oh, and my living room looks very nice.



* The stool was placed on a chair; so, technically speaking, I feel off of a chair and a stool.


*  I fell off more than once.

Wow, you'd think he was getting married.  Sigh... I've always said that he'd be the one to make me a grandmother, and now I worry that I may have been right.

you know you're sleep deprived when. . .

You shower before bed and when you have to wake up, your hair's still wet. 

... the rest are too embarrassing.
... I've forgotten any that aren't too embarrassing because of sleep deprivation
... zzzzzzz  I need to get more sleep. 

I've been so desperate, I've even gotten mad enough to finally force people at home to help more.  But, it's not enough.  I have to work more efficiently.  (Seriously, the sleep deprivation contributes to working less efficiently and illogical time allocation - then, I stay up late to "get caught up", but I never do).

Nightmare

Night before last I woke up from a nightmare (I wanted to write TERRIBLE nightmare, but by the light of day, the adjective seems overwraught). 

L. has taken me to a store... there seems to have been a "backstory" because I think, for some reason, L was in charge of finding a good place to change our money.

He heads into the store ahead of me and goes directly to a section that's partially hidden by shelves.  The owner says samething about "L knowing that the ..."  I didn't really catch the end, but I was assuming video games or something.

 I reluctantly go back there.  Anyway, the guy starts handing me dollars and saying something like, "Let's see if they're okay..."  I say, "?Nos estás pasando dólares falsificados?"  He denies it, but his explanation makes me sure he is. 

So, I say loudly, "Give me back my 3000 dollars." Well, I mean to say it loudly but suddenly my lungs seem to close up... I try again to say it loudly and it's suddenly terribly clear to me that I've suddenly developed a serious asthma attack.  It's such a terrible sensation to be in a confrontation, be helpless, need help... and then, of course, have L on my mind.

To me, this dream is about how scarey it is to give L more autonomy.  He wants it, and I sincerely want it for him also... But, what will happen to him if he screws it up... And, certainly whatever happens to him affects me also.

It's also about my being a terrible mother.  How could I have let L take on this responsibility without doing my part of the job - the due diligence? 

So... I may be taking this a tad too seriously.  It's strange how much the dream weighed on me.  But - I know, I know... it's only a zzz zzz

adrenaline rush

Took L. to regional choir practice today.  It was hours of waiting around and it was sooo cold out.  Got very hungry so I left to have dinner.  Ate at the super market - I just hate eating out when I'm alone.  Then I couldn't find the school when I tried to drive back... dark out.  Sigh... Got back just in time to wait another hour.
But here is the sweet thing.  L was so excited when he got out and so high energy when we got home.  Papa had made some soup, and L sat down to eat a bowl with no complaints.  (His father's soup... and no faces).  Then he started talking about the last song they did at practice and  he described the intensity of the piece and how all of the guys have started to keep the beat with their feet and how the tempo builds.  He was really on a music adrenaline rush (he used the word adrenaline).  I miss that feeling and I'm so happy for him that he has it: being in the very middle of tight harmonies and great singers.  I always tell L that my fantasy is to be the worst singer in a choir and he's never agreed with me, but now maybe he gets it a little.
     The good mood got him through cleaning the kitchen after dinner with me.  It was a treat to be with him.
      Then he hardly complained when he only got to watch about 15 minutes of an episode of "How I Met Your Mother"  (He had started it already - so he watched the end).

Papa and I watched an Italian movie "Mid August Lunch,"  I think.  There was something very charming about it and something a tad depressing - It was very Italian: sons who feel an incredible obligation to care for their mothers... It's dependence and take-chargeness (?) mixed in a strange way.  Speaking of charming, H snored through about one third of it.  ha ha

PS papa's soup?  Not bad, but he always lets the veges get sooo mushy.  But, he was very sweet about our getting home at 10 pm