Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
- Financial - adj. pertaining to monetary receipts and expenditures; pertaining or relating to money matters; pecuniary: financial operations
- Health - n. 2) soundness of body or mind; freedom from disease or ailment: to have one's health; to lose one's health. 4) vigor; vitality: economic health
Monday, January 12, 2009
Over a month ago, HomeBoy relayed the message that his colleague was, ahem, waiting for me to invite her and her family to our house. We were both a bit perplexed by this. Had we waited too long to return the favor of her invitation? Why couldn’t HomBoy extend the invitation to them? He and I decided that there was some cute, albeit archaic “lady of the house” undertone. (Well, maybe the archaic part was all me.) So, in spite of my nervousness about the state of our Queen Mum and how poorly I perform with new people and my neurosis about being Muslim enough I said, “Let’s have them over this Saturday for dinner.” And then I died.
I decided on a menu of salmon, spinach and brown rice. Halal and simple enough. I asked HomeBoy if he thought we should get a dessert.
“Well, she said she would bring something,” he said.
“I don’t know.”
“Thanks. Thanks for that.”
I had to laugh because if one is preparing a meal, and a guest offers to bring something, not only do you thank them profusely but you FIND OUT WHAT IT IS. So there’s one less thing you have to worry about. He who was doing no cooking at all could not have thought to ask this important question. So I laughed because it was more cute than frustrating. Fine, I’ll buy a dessert. As the week progressed and the day of reckoning came steadily upon us, I started to get a little paranoid.
“Should we have appetizers too? Should I order some samosas? Am I doing too much?”
A blank stare, then a response.
“No, that’s a good idea. How many per person? How much will that cost?”
“I don’t remember, but I can find out.”
So now we have 3 courses going on, 2 of which I’m not even cooking (because I am a self-aware woman after all). So early Saturday afternoon we start to pick up the odds and ends for our evening of entertaining. We opted for mini cupcakes for dessert and a pita chip + veggie dip appetizer over the pricey samosas. Everything was feeling right. We came home, I started cooking, got dressed, etc. Except for my increasing heart rate and body temperature, all was well...
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
My high school boyfriend, who barely made the transition to my college boyfriend, is relocating. He sent me this message today:
Goodbye my orange moon, thank you for your light and remember, Mr. Lionel is always the man
My response was this:
(my, that sounds finite)
this occasion feels like it warrants a more momentous message, but I will follow your lead and keep it simple.
i wish you love, many adventures, hard-earned successes, opportunities for growth, and all the happiness a skeptic can hope for. so long, sir.
“you say goodbye, and I say hello”
I fancied myself a creature of extraordinary relationships. This boyfriend of yesteryear, he of the end of my high school and beginning of my college career, was my first real love. We experienced an intense crush, a high school senior prom and senior trip (with food poisoning on the side), a sweet post-high school summer, an emotional breakdown, separating for college (he in the North, I in the South), his breaking up with me one semester into our freshman year of college, my beginning to date homeboy (who would become HomeBoy – peep the capitals, that’s significant) which felt like a second break-up, slanderous emails, reconciliation and innumerous well-intentioned but malevolently-incited freestyle battles.
I felt special for being able to say “I’m still friends with my ex”, despite that fact that he and HomeBoy are not fond of each other. HomeBoy is supremely secure in our partnership (as he should be), and, to be honest, the friendship that existed between myself and “The Former” had become little more than bare bones. I sometimes pondered the significance of our continued communication. It had become a “2 calls per year” sort of thing – one for birthdays and one in late spring to discuss the anticipation of summer blockbusters. (Neither of us celebrate holidays.) There may be an additional call here or there to share a new piece of writing or hold the other accountable for the writing that isn’t being done. But that was all.
I struggled with whether or not to make some sort of formal break, or just let it continue to decline – fade into obscurity. Two phone calls a year would surely dwindle to one and then none at all. I would go to a book store with my husband and kids (many, many years in the future) and see his name on a book and smile; he would do the same in a book store half way across the world (or at least across the country), and that would be that. So when I received this message today, I was relieved and yet… there was this teeny, tiny feeling of loss. So I cannot boast “I’m still friends with my ex” anymore, but we are neither enemies nor strangers. I guess we aren’t anything except “he” and “I”.
It is as it should be.