the fruitcake

The power went out yesterday morning as I was lining my cake pan with waxed paper, causing screams from neighborhood children cut off mid-video game. Being good consumers, we packed up and went shopping. We stopped at a fund-raiser car wash held by the community college's Fashion Society and laughed while the aspiring designers tiptoed around our car in fancy clothes and high heels, trying not to touch the wet sponges.
 

We sat in the evening to a Sunday dinner of roast beef, glazed carrots, and pumpkin eggnog. Gavin climbed out of his Power Ranger costume to sit at the table, and I lit the fireplace (read: put batteries in it), my triumphant fruitcake bundled securely in the wine cooler to age. And I did not set fire to the waxed paper, which apparently is entirely different from baking parchment, but I admit the pan was smoking a bit when I took it out of the oven, giving it a rebel rock-and-roll-fruitcake-from-hell kind of look. The bottom of the oven may have caught fire in places where the wax dripped, but that is understandable. The cookbook said to let it steam in foil until cold, and for a moment I was confused about how it would become cold, not just room temperature, and I was wondering if something chemical occurred between the cherries and brandy, but then I remembered knocking the frozen water out of the dog bowl in the indoor pantry as a child in Newfoundland. This recipe is from a place where things get cold in December. Of course, now I am wonder whether my fruitcake will get moldy before Christmas because it left it out at not-cold temperatures for a while. Leaning toward not. Mostly.

unbloggable

[saved as draft and published April 2, 2007]

It's hard opening up even to myself about relationship stuff, let alone to something I know is public, but I feel like a hipocrit fighting censorship in my library and then hiding my own life because I'm afraid of what people would think. I spent 3 hours on the phone with Mike yesterday. I was really honest with him. It's frustrating to me that we get along so well, even now, and that some sad part of the smashed ruins in my chest still cares about him. Anyone would tell me I'd be an idiot to consider him again. I know it. A wise woman told me Don't buy cheese whiz when there's still brie on the shelf. I told Mike that he has to become the man he wants Gavin to be, and if he can do that there might be something left for us somewhere much farther down the road. I guess I'll just keep my head up and eyes open for that brie. I thought my heart had broken open and emptied out, but last night I walked to the store and made eye contact with a face that in the semi-dark resembled the guy I loved, and my heart squeezed painfully. The stranger watched me round the corner, seeming to recognize me, too. [Or thinking about murdering me.] 

When you smile, your body releases happy chemicals. I've been trying to write about happiness, to create it, and it’s not working. It's kind of a relief being able to settle in and do what I want in life, just me; maybe grow some roots, enjoy my job, get into a groove with life and Gavin and family. I'm ok with just being me. But I'm still heartbroken.

fruit cake

Sunday. My mother is sad that I have given up coffee.

Saturday was a sick day, Gavin laying upside down on the couch with dual ear infections after throwing up his medicine. Po had a bad time in the litter box and streaked around the house until I chased her down with the enzyme spray and a wet wipe to fix her up. She seems to have eaten too much tinsel. Gavin dumped all his toys on the floor looking for a particular train, then slowly put them back in the basket. "Mom, I can't put them away," he said, "I'm too tired." "Oh, dear, I guess it's time for a nap if you're tired, should we go upstairs?" "No, mom. I'm not that tired. I just changed my mind," he said, putting his toys away again. He fell asleep 10 minutes later on the floor before he could finish. Walking over quietly to pick him up, I stepped on a micro machine, skidded across the floor, tripped on a play set, and fell headlong over Gavin's body onto the couch with a yell. He shot upright, pointing wildly, "Mom, you must be careful!" and fell back asleep in my arms as I brought him up to bed.

My mom came home from class with a fresh pine wreath, apple cider, and chocolate fruit assortment. We watched Love, Actually until we were very sappy and depressed, then broke out the candies and Christmas cartoons. Gavin considered the dialogue. "Why he say that?" "It was supposed to be funny." "But it wasn't." He is correct. In the evening, and I made a rash decision: I am going to make a fruit cake. The kind that is full of liquor and has to age 3 weeks before eating. The first step is underway, I have soaked several cups of raisins, currants, and candied cherries in brandy overnight. Today the cake comes together, and then I will wrap it, seal it, and brush it with brandy every week until Christmas. Why not?

Thus begins the season

Put up the tree. Created an avalanche of Christmas boxes in the closet under the stairs. Assembled tree upside down, righted it. Cut the tape off the boxes of ornaments, discovered lost beloved toys stuffed in with them, which made Gavin happy. Filled advent calendar boxes with chocolates. Gavin helped hang ornaments, and opened the box of tree chocolates. He's a great kid. I walked up to the store to buy a power strip for the lights. After a bit of pantomime, the dollar store guy figured out what I was looking for and rang me up, asking "Where the sweetie? Home with Grandma?" It's kind of comforting being such a familiar face that the clerks at the stores know our family. Picked up some holiday booze next door, winding up at the register with the underage cashier who always analyses my choices. "This is good, I always get anything that says Puerto Rico on it," she said. Walked back home. "Mom," I said, "You're the dad, put up the star." We've got the star up, and Po is sleeping on the stockings. We're good to go.

Gavin hanging ornaments:



 The face I made when the flash went off unexpectedly:

We know you're all robots

Unexpected day off. Thank you, no toilets at work.

I got the call partway to work, so showed up anyway to herd misplaced children. By 8am, the kids were all squared away and the teachers were mutinous, inching farther and farther from the gates until the headmaster finally cut us loose and we all scattered.

On the drive home, the road repair guys did an awesomely bad job of setting up the lane cones, creating a 30mph driving course of weaving and bobbing cars and flying orange cones. I had the theater all to myself for a matinee of Tenacious D. I kicked my boots up in the middle of the empty seats and drank an enormous Diet Coke. Bad idea.

Baked banana bread. Watched the new Top Chef. Went to the mall. Bought Christmas crap.

Good day, even if I'm still not really feeling it.

Creepy

A big guy driving an SUV nearly ran over me, waving a cigarette and demanding my name. I think I am going to just stay indoors and read from now on. Or maybe learn a martial art. Haven't decided.

The days are darker longer, the air is cold enough to need long sleeves and the car heater in the mornings. This morning I sat and listened to my rear speaker giving its death rattle while Jack Black finished yowling, then shut the car down, pulled my boots back on and headed for the library. One of the office guys met me in the parking lot. "You just had your birthday? How old are you?" "27." "Ughh! You're younger than me! Oh, man. I'm sad. I'm getting older than people." I laughed. He's 28. Tough times, the late 20s.

A red flyer in my mailbox told me to dress up as something that "best illustrates the holiday season" for Spirit Day at school. The clip art showed candles, pot-mitts, and drums. I tried to imagine how I would make a giant pot-mitt costume. I thought maybe I wanted to dress as an oven, and the cynical part of me thought a bleeding ATM would be better, but I knew I would just end up in a red sweater and a jingly hair tie. On second glance, I realized that Spirit Day is on my divorce court date, and imagined standing in front of the judge in a cardboard oven costume. Hmm. Off the hook for that one.

27

Brooke and Yuri called to wish me a happy birthday, and I talked to them on the stairs with my feet on the wall. Drove to Waikele to spend my birthday gift card,listening to the new Tenacious D album. I sang along as best I could for not knowing the words, which was pretty damn well. Bought a pair of perfect jeans and some tins of holiday fatty snacks before heading home for cake. My auntie and small cousin met me at the door with presents, and the boys rolled down the stairs until one of them started crying.

Happy Hour at Dixie Grill. Gavin played in the sand pit, my mother ate too much bbq. Went home, fully intending to walk over to the theater after kiddo's bedtime to play pool and see Jack Black, but ended up pulling on cupcake pajamas and watching Robotech with Gavin until we fell asleep at 8:30pm.

Satisfying birthday.

Gavin decorates my cake with chocolate rock candies and meemees:

Thanksgiving 2006

Thanksgiving

Surprisingly good day. Didn't get dressed until mid-morning, watched the parade on television and strained our eyeballs to see Gavin's grandma running with one of the balloon strings. Saw the top of her hat bobbing, cheered and called it a success. Ate biscuits and creamed eggs while the smells of stuffing filled up the house and Christmas music warbled in the background.

My pregnant auntie (it's a boy named Teddy) and entourage arrived and surprised us with homemade rolls, cinnamon buns, and green bean casserole, as we were expecting her to just bring a plate of brown-and-serve rolls. My mom spent too long on the phone with grandpa and came down in a hurry to discover she had overcooked the turkey. This meant that the breast was a bit dry, but the dark meat was falling apart perfectly. It all came apart when she lifted it, but we arranged the dismembered bits to resemble a whole bird anyway. I popped open a bottle of sparkling cider for my aunt, served up some white grape juice for the kids, and the rest of us worked on a couple bottles of moscato over steaming plates of ham, turkey, broccoli casserole, and bourbon sweet potatoes.

The boys enjoyed each other. "Oooh, Chris, don't cough on my glass, it could be yucky," Gavin said, and demonstrated coughing with his hand over his mouth. They practiced coughing politely until we distracted them with the task of blowing out the candles. We cleared the table and spread out the desserts, and they dug in, happy with the piles of whipped cream and many kinds of pies.

Washed up the dishes while the kids wrestled over trains and the grownups sat around on the couch, then we all walked across the street to see Happy Feet. I put together some containers of leftovers for my aunt, waved them off, and we called it a night after disassembling the feast table.

On to my birthday.

monday cont.

[saved as draft and published April 2, 2007]

7:00pm

The man I love has found someone else, looking for a life without this ridiculous seesaw of drama that has been set in motion. I can't blame him. I don't want this, either. Cried for a long time in the dark, then turned on a light and did the dishes while my mom played with Gavin in the living room.

Yuri called to catch me on the rebound and convince me to move to California. "Doesn't it feel sooooo good to be in love? You can fall in love with anything! Your phone, the internet, movie stars, it happens all the time! And now you're single, you can have real boyfriends and do whatever you want!"

I am trying to be happy about that, but I'm not.

Seeking clarity

When you look into a pool of water, if the water is still, you can see the moon reflected. If the water is agitated, the moon is scattered and fragmented. It is harder to see the true moon. Our minds are like that. When our minds are agitated, we cannot see the true world.

-Jon J Muth, Zen Shorts

6:00am:
My mother looked up at me as I put on my shoes. Elmo was singing to Gavin about finding a thinking spot when you're feeling troubled. She said, "My daughter has lost her thinking spot. She needs to find her rock." I kissed her head and walked Gavin to the car with his lunch box.

6:45am:
Sitting in a comfy chair at Starbucks, very large coffee in hand. I could feel the water settling, and I was starting to see beneath it what I had suspected for weeks. I stared out the window at the sun coming up, waiting. You're alive, get going, I told myself, and dropped my coffee in the trash on the way out. Enough of that, I need to get off caffeine.

8:30am, waiting for appointment:
I paced the empty shopping center in Hawaii Kai, watching the boats in the harbor bob around. Leaning on the chipped railing, I inhaled deeply to smell the ocean; smelled nothing. I wonder if that's good or bad, I thought. After walking past the coffee shops and pausing to look at the cheeses in the grocery store, I walked back to the car and rolled down the windows, turned up the radio. Warm day, shivering anyway.

10:45am:
I let the library door swing shut behind me and shook my head in disbelief. Employers who offer terrible hours and low pay should really try not to make ugly mocking faces while a potential employee is answering questions. Telling bald-faced lies about why the job is open is also not a good idea. I don't think I'll be getting a call back from them. If I do it will be a short conversation.

I headed toward Waimanalo, wondering where my anxiety went. In the garbage with the coffee, maybe. On impulse, I turned off at Sandy Beach. Blowhole exploded in the distance, the ocean rolled in with massive winter waves. Wave on top of wave. I opened my gym bag and pulled out my Speedo. Snaked out of my skirt and blouse with the windows still open, snapped up the straps and stepped out barefoot into the hot sand. Sitting on my towel, I watched the bodyboarders make run after run at the massive waves, getting rolled and crushed into the shore. A tanned man in sagging shorts stood near me, eyes on the formations of the waves, feet padding rhythmically, ready to sprint when the water looked just right. Completely focused. I leaned back and watched him run like a pelican into the surf and get flipped clean over - feet flailing - and smashed into the sand, causing me to laugh for the first time in days. The chill began to seep out of me into the sand. I picked up my towel and walked back to the car, pulled on my red shorts, and drove with the windows down all the way home.

I've been around this circle a few times before, and it always ends the same way; me alone on a beach in the winter, giving up my troubles to the sky. Bottom line: I like my home. 

Still no text that would break my heart. Coward, I thought. I tossed my phone across the table, put on some dry clothes, and walked to the store for stamps and shrimp. Bills in the mail. In the past week or so, I have started to regain my feet financially. Next month looks pretty good.

2:00pm
With a follow-up appointment for Gavin in an hour, I hopped back in the car and headed to the mall. I walked straight to the teen jewelry stores. Claires horrified me with all their pink fluffiness, so I headed down to Icing. Same store, but more boho. Didn't matter. I pointed to a gold stud, sat in the little swivel chair, and PUNCH! I now have a cartilage piercing. Another notch, this one for the end of an era. The tender spot next to my solitary right earring can continue waiting.

Gavin checked out healthy. He played with his blocks on the rug while I sauteed fish for supper. I thought about the corporate metaphor my headmaster used at the last staff meeting. Heart aligned beneath my head, feet firm beneath me, hands working at the things that need doing.