While I still have another week before I resume teaching, it would appear that my little corner of the world is returning to its pre-holiday state.
And while I enjoyed certain bits of the holiday, I'm happy to be returning to routine.
A very routinized creature I am.
Very.
Just ask Stephen.
There are times when I think I may just make him crazy with my intense desire to maintain my routine, and thus cling to my false sense of control.
Everyone is allowed their delusions.
It would appear Mother Nature has come out of her hot flash.
Mild, snow melting, foggy conditions were replaced overnight with cold, snow bearing, windy weather.
I have enough personalities living in my head.
Mother Nature should have the decency to keep hers to herself.
I had an experience yesterday, that, had I actually not been in the car and heard it with my own ears, I don't think I'd be capable of believing it.
Sunday after New Year's Day or not, the Superstore refused to open before noon.
Thus, after acquiring all our necessary goods from Victory, Stephen, Meredyth and I were left with about 20 minutes before the Superstore opened its doors.
We'd never actually arrived before the doors opened on a Sunday, as we're usually at Quaker Meeting, or, on occasion, still asleep.
Watching the people line up outside the locked doors was very interesting.
And certainly fodder for another time.
However, the bizarre event I'm referring to has to do with a Twilight Zone-esque conversation that occurred between Mer and Stephen.
About, of all things, Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew.
I wasn't aware Stephen even knew that this program was on the television, let alone what it was called.
It would appear he didn't.
So while waiting in the car, no heat because we are environmentally conscious and didn't leave the car running so our breath was fogging up the inside and I abjectly refused to allow the windows to be open even a smitch because ever since losing weight, I can't seem to get warm no matter how hard I try, except when I'm at the nursing home, in Mum's room, where it is always a balmy 30+ degrees, Mer and Stephen traverse into the Twilight Zone:
SJP: I saw this older, grey haired guy on tv last night with someone who looked like an aging rock star. (Just as an aside, Stephen, what color is your hair???)
MVE: Yeah. That's Dr. Drew and Leif Garrett.
SJP: Whose Leif Garrett.
DAC: A singer from the 70s. I had a poster of him on my wall.
Pause.
DAC: Stephen, how come you were watching Dr. Drew?
SJP: It was on.
MVE: I love that show.
SJP: Yeah! He had a bunch of people on there. They must be celebrities, but I don't know who they are.
MVE: Janice Dickinson, Leif Garrett, Eric Roberts. . .he's addicted to pot.
SJP: Why does Janice Dickinson sound familiar?
MVE: She was a judge on Americas Next Top Model.
SJP: Oh yeah.
Pause.
Me sitting in the driver's seat of the car completely flabbergasted and gobsmacked at what is happening right in front of me.
If the Queen of England had walked by at that moment, grabbed a cart and stood in the line up of would be grocery shoppers, chatting while smoking a cigarette, I would have been less shocked.
MVE: She claims she's an alcoholic, addicted to drugs and sex.
SJP: Really?
At this moment, THANK GAWD the Superstore opened and people started moving inside.
Because I was terrified of where this conversation was going to lead.
Toddlers in Tiaras perhaps?
I personally can't stand Dr. Drew.
Have we become so desperate for entertainment that watching anyone, celebrity or not, work through addiction is appropriate.
Same with Intervention.
But, people like Dr. Drew and Dr.Phil seems to have appeal to some people.
A lesson I learned when I dissed Dr. Phil in front of Stephen's father, while sitting at his kitchen table.
He turned, looked me straight in the eye and said,
"DR. PHIL HELPS PEOPLE!"
No, Dr. Phil helps himself.
But, because I was brought up to respect my elders, I just sat there and did not say a word.
I am very thankful he couldn't read mind, though.
This morning SFL wasn't open, so I have no idea if I've lost any weight over the holidays.
I just hope I didn't gain the "usual ten pounds" people acquire during the holidays.
Feasting on all those goodies and yummies.
While I resolutely eat baby carrots and celery.
So, I was actually at Mer's by 10.00 am, as promised.
Being on time is almost as stupefying as Stephen knowing what Celebrity Rehab was.
Mer had just gotten up.
But, she had made a valiant attempt to clean her apartment knowing that I would be coming.
She was madly scrubbing dishes, mumbling, "This container stinks. . .I don't know why. . ."
There were so many things I could have said, but I kept my mouth shut.
And then we started.
Keith's dire prediction was that there would be food flying and nasty words volleyed back and forth like a Wimbledon tennis match.
He was wrong.
HA!
We had a lovely time, cooking, cleaning, chatting. . .
I showed her that crock pots were useful things in spite of her unsuccessful attempt to roast a chicken in one.
Some things are better saved for the oven.
Beef stew meat provided the basis for a lovely stew and beef stir fry strips.
Chicken breast was transformed into chicken cacciatoire.
Rib ends have been par boiled and await their turn in their crock pot bbq sauce bath.
And I am taking over two containers of homemade turkey soup when we pick her up for work at 2.00.
Meaning, when everything is cooked and contained, she will have about 15 meals in her freezer.
Ready-to-eat, preservative free.
And she even asked if we could do it again.
Next time, she wants me to teach her how to make homemade mac and cheese, and beef stew in the oven so we can top it off with dumplings.
Homemade biscuits and pizza pops, too.
All in all, a good hour and a half spent bonding and cooking.
With a clean kitchen to boot.
On a somber note, I was saddened to hear of the death of Pete Postlethwaite.
He was brilliant.
Particularly In the Name of the Father, where he played Guiseppe Conlan.
If you haven't seen it, you should.
With lots of kleenex.
Title Lyric: 1985 by Bowling for Soup
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