Pin Up Girl

I didn’t need to wait for the end of the month for my luck to change. Today I found out I got paid a day early, I received my tax return, and most importantly, I won a bathing suit! And from one of my favorite places in Portland, Poppi Swim and Sport, specializing in retro inspired custom made bathing suits. I have already bought two suits from them. They make me feel like a pin up girl. I have brought several of my friends to Poppi, and they have spent so money there that I was beginning to feel like I should get a commission for their purchases.

Not only does winning the suit mark an end to a crappy month, but it's the first thing I've won in almost 20 years. When I was in the third grade, I won a hermit crab that I think might have been dead by the time I took him home. I never observed him move or eat anything.

I am so pleased things are looking up. I choose to take this as a sign of more good things to come.

Mine

The other day one of my co-workers was talking about her will.

I don't have one, mostly because I don't really have a lot to give away. I should find a good home for my shoe collection, but I don't know anyone else who can fit into my shoes.

I do think it's a good idea to have a living will, and I thought about having a living will party while the Terri Schiavo situation was getting so much publicity. No one I knew had a living will, and I thought having a party to make them would make the process a little bit less of a downer. I imagined we could all be each other's witnesses.

I have put more thought into my funeral than I have into my will. I think I would like to have it catered. Not a sit down formal dinner or anything, but some nice rustic Italian food. I would definitely like some tomato salads. Here is one of my favorites.

Sicilian Tomato Salad

8-10 tomatoes
1 cup olive oil
1 cup red wine vinegar
1 cup cold water
1-2 cups dry ricotta (ricotta salada)
fresh oregano, basil
salt, fresh ground pepper

Cut the tomatoes into wedges into a flat dish. Add oil, vinegar, water, oregano, and basil (2 to 1 oregano to basil), salt, pepper to taste. Garlic powder optional.

Sprinkle coarse grated ricotta salada throughout. Gently fold and mix, adjust ingredients to preference. When balance has been established, sprinkle hearty layer of ricotta over top, covering salad. Chill at least 1/2 an hour. Serve with warm, crusty Italian or French Bread.

That's a friend's old family recipe...here's my two cents: the garlic is important, I don’t view it as optional. And use the real stuff, not powder.

This salad is really soupy, that’s the point. Serve it in bowls and use the bread to soak things up. I think it tastes best if it’s been getting to know itself for at least 2 hours before serving it.

Anyway, thinking about tomato salads made me realize that if the ones at my funeral are going to be any good, I will need to die in the peak of tomato season.

I was telling some friends about this last night, joking about how when I get really old and my health is fading, I will grow my funeral tomatoes. My friends thought this was a great idea, that it ought to be a short story or on This American Life, and one of them said he would write it. I told him, no, that it was my idea and sick fantasy. If anyone is going to write about it, it should be me.

I thought that was the way things worked, that people get first dibs on their own ideas. If it's not the case, I need to get out of the habit of telling other people about the latest crazy thing rattling around in my head.

I Already Have Character

I am ready for this month to be over. As if Ray's health issues weren't enough to deal with, my own came up. Last week Ray and I were both on antibiotics and spent the week convalescing on the couch. I am now thankfully off mine, and am really appreciating being able to drink wine again.

My laptop has been having health issues, too, and the really expensive trip to the Mac doctor still hasn't corrected the problem I encounter when I type...letters are inserted back into words I've already typed a few sentences back. I am already the queen of typos, I am sure I could win some sort of "Librarian Who Makes the Most Typos" contest. The two best typos I have ever made are "the last upper" and "paradigm shit", which probably wasn't really a typo so much as a reflection of the way I felt about the term after an excessive focus on them my first semester of library school.

Dealing with the bills Ray, my laptop and I have acrewed this past month has put me in a much tighter financial position that I am used to dealing with, especially because I have a tendency to treat bad weeks with retail therapy, and I didn't want to deny myself that treat just because I am broke. On Friday I bought another beautiful party dress that I now need an occasion to wear, and yesterday I bought a Minnie Mouse like red and white polka dot bathing suit.

I literally can't afford to have another bad week any time soon. I've had enough, and I am past the point where I think they are making me a stronger or wiser person. I already have character.

5 Out Of A Couple Hundred Pictures

Some Things I Love

abundance * accessories * antique shoes * baths * camping * crumbling beauty * dairy products * exaggerating * eating outside * family stories that probably aren’t true * garage sales * going barefoot * going out to breakfast * kissing * ladies’ night * naps * pedicures* playing dress up * pretentious French movies * projects * reading out loud * summer vacation * talking to strangers * wine

Cats & Dogs

The past few weeks have been crazy ones, colored almost entirely by animal body parts.

On the home front, the saga of Ray’s jaw continues. He somehow managed to remove the plate screwed into his jaw. I almost had a heart attack, both because I knew there wasn’t anything else the vet could do for him that wasn’t experimental and painful, and because of the amount of money I’d spent on the operation he so quickly undid.

I took him back to the vet to have them remove the pins poking out of his gums, and now we are seeing what happens. He is delighted to be free of the plate, and now that I don’t have to worry about him bumping it on anything, he has free reign of my apartment again. He has a good appetite and seems happy, other than when I give him his antibiotics. It gets harder to give them to him every day, and he spits them out on my clothes, the furniture, the floor and his fur. The nice ruff under his neck was getting gross, and I gave him a little sponge bath last night after I’d had a couple of beers to try to correct this. He seemed a little stuffy this morning and I’ve been worried that I’ve made him sick. I would never forgive myself if he died of a cold I’d given him.

I think he is on the mend, though, and I’ve wondered if his near death experience has changed him. Yesterday while I was in the shower, he changed the radio station from NPR to a Christian station.

Meanwhile, my work life has centered around dog scrotums. I’m not a big fan of scrotums in general. I don’t hate them, but I kind of like to pretend they don’t exist. The controversy over the use of the word scrotum (in reference to a dog, of all things) in this year’s Newbery winner has put me in the position of having to defend an author’s right to use a word I don’t even like.

I have received hundreds of emails over the controversy this word is stirring up. Family members have mailed me newspaper articles. I wish they would stop.

Maybe I’m just tired from dealing with the cat, but I’m just not as riled up about this situation as other people. I’m ready for life to get back to normal, and to think about other things.