10-Line Poetry

Freefall

I jumped out of a plane once. It was loud
and fast and cold. Exhilarating. Then I pulled
the ripcord and all was quiet and still
and perfectly peaceful. It was magical.
And I was invincible.
Temporarily.

I need to be invincible again.
There must be an easier way than freefalling.
The answer is easy:  just close your eyes, hold your breath,
and take one single step.

I'm a Poet

I have started my much anticipated poetry class with the amazingly talented and all-around awesome Maya Stein.

I’ve always been the math chick. I’m an accountant; numbers are kind of my thing. In high school, I remember crying in English class when I was given an assignment to write. Words are not my thing. They fail me and they escape me. I would get so frustrated at my inability to write, that the tears would come to eyes, and I’d try to blink them back. It was always so hard for me to create. Now, numbers on the other hand, they were black and white and needed no creativity. Numbers have been a comfortable friend.

So, this is the poem that I worked on last week with Maya.

And…here goes nothin’.

WAITING ROOM

That middle of the night phone call – it came.

Speeding to the hospital, I made wicked deals with a

God I didn’t believe in. The door to the ER eluded me,

playing hide-and-seek like a game around a fat tree trunk.

My father kept me away. I know it. He hid so I would

be unable to call him back.

His most selfish act.

I found it  – in time for nothing except

to sit in a waiting room for the words to destroy me:

he’s died.

I'm Buzzing

When I am really, really tired, my body feels electric; like it’s vibrating. This morning, I feel the vibration. I am a ball of electricity. I am pretty damn tired.


I am back to interpreting in the evenings after my day job. I am a Sign Language Interpreter. I love being able to say that. It sounds so much cooler than “I’m an accountant.” Which I am; I am an accountant, but I am also a Sign Language Interpreter, and after a six year hiatus, I am back, baby.

I am so very grateful that I am working. So.Damn.Grateful. This week is my first week of almost an entire semester of working every weekday evening. I go from day job, run home, feed the dog, 2 cats, and myself, and then run out to interpret for the evening. Now, normally, my bedtime is 9pm, but that is not going to happen for awhile. I don’t get home until 10 or 10:30 most evenings, and sleep hasn’t been coming until after 11:00. So, for this chick who is used to getting up at 5am; I’m a bit sleepy this Friday.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays: OH MY…….but as the song says, “I can sleep when I’m dead.”

But, I CAN do this. I have to do this. It feels good to have my hands moving again, and my brain working in that very special way an interpreter’s mind works. Yeah, call me in December after my umpteenth week of five nights a week, and see how perky and optimistic I sound.

And, things I am looking forward to:

*A poetry class with Maya Stein starting October 1 (I hope to fill my blog with my musings after this class)

*The new Cultivate Courage workshop with Andrea Scher starting October 8 (I am going to come to work wearing a superhero cape after this class)

*Our annual girls weekend to Park City, Utah (I hope not to have a week-long hangover after this one)



And here is me saying to myself in a bathroom mirror: “You got this, beyotch.” (as an assignment for another of Andrea Scher’s classes: Treasure Hunt)


Excuse me now as I lay my head down on this accounting spreadsheet for just a minute…

What Spice Am I?

The last couple of years have left me wondering which spice I am. I struggle with it often.

Am I Sporty Spice?

Am I Scary Spice?

Am I Posh Spice?

I’m certainly not Baby Spice, and I don’t really know what Ginger Spice was all about.  Actually, it’s amazing I know the Spices at all.  I was definitely too old to follow them.

But, I’ve been trying to find out where I fit. 

Am I Sporty Spice? Would Athleta clothes be more my style? I drool over the Athleta catalog and the fit models.  They all look like they completed a kick-ass work-out, and threw on some really cool clothes.  I would kill to have a body like the Athleta models.

Am I Posh Spice?  Well, posh for me is more similar to Banana Republic.  Am I classic and put together? I would love to feel put together and classic.  Like sometimes you see a woman walking down the street, and you just know she has her shit together.  I would love to give people the illusion that I have my shit together.

Am I Scary Spice?  Am I the funky chick who wears cool, funky outfits and feels unique and hip?

Just wait until Fall arrives and I can wear my Athleta dress, with some cool red patented leather hiking type boots, then I’ll be Scary-Sporty Spice.

I guess there’s a bit of everything in me.  I wonder if other women are the same, or if they have one particular style.

Kids wear me out.

This was the epitome of my few days with my nephews.

Last week, I had my nephews stay with me for a couple of days.  Cooper is just about 9, and Carter is 6 1/2, and they are a freaking handful.  When my sister-in-law dropped them off Thursday morning at 6:57 in the AM, she told them to be good or that she would just come back and get them, and that would be that.  At about 9am, I texted her and asked her to come back and take them home. She just laughed a maniacal laugh, and the boys stayed with me.

By hour 3 of their stay with me, both boys were in the bathtub.  The result of a tie dye adventure gone wrong.  I had a tie dye kit that has three bottles of color, and you just squirt the colors onto your rubberbanded and twisted t-shirts.  Carter picked up the UNcapped bottle of blue dye, and felt the need to shake it up.  The dye went all over his ear, and all over his nice Under Armor work-out shirt.  I should have known better and given those boys smocks to wear.  We put our shirts (oh yes, I said "our".  Do you think I would let those boys have tie-dye fun without me?) in bags to sit overnight.

After their bath in lavender bath salts (I don't have Mr. Bubble at home), the boys and I hopped on the 'L' to McDonald's for lunch.  Those two just LOVE public transportation!  After lunch, we usually hop the 'L' north a couple of stops to Marshall Field's.  I refer to a lot of the free stuff we do as "adventures".  The boys buy it.  So, our adventure to Marshall Field's is an adventure because from the train, we take the "secret passage" right into the basement of Marshall Field's luggage department.  Then we pretend we are taking a trip to Paris, and shop for luggage.

We didn't make to Marshall Field's because for some reason, Chinatown came up.  Cooper told me that Chinatown was in California.  I told him we have one in Chicago, too. The two of us argued, then to prove my point, we got back on 'L', and went south instead.  We landed in Chinatown and did a little bit of shopping and walking around.


We headed home for dinner before walking to SummerDance.  On the way to SummerDance, we did some Geocaching, and the boys LOVED it.  That night SummerDance was some sort of Hungarian gypsy/folk dancing or something, so we didn't last long.

Friday morning, Cooper woke up at 5:30.  Yeah, I said 5:30 in the morning.  I made him stay in his room until 7.  Then, we hit the ground running.  We took the dog for a walk, got to wash out our tie dye shirts, had a photoshoot, and then headed to the movies.  We walk to the movies too.  The boys always want to take the train everywhere, and they don't understand that the trains don't go everywhere.



After the movies, we headed to Millennium Park for the symphony.  They were playing Beethoven's Fifth that evening, so I thought the boys would at least recognize the music.  We also discussed going back to SummerDance for Disco night.  I had packed a small picnic for the symphony, so we sat and ate, and listened.  Well, not really.  The boys were in such a mood!  They would not sit still, they would not be quiet, and they would not stop touching each other.  I was so frustrated, but really, what was I to expect with two boys at the symphony?  I asked the boys if their mom ever cried out of frustration.  Finally, I had had enough, and told the boys we were heading to Disco night at SummerDance.  Carter told me that he thought he was already listening to Disco.  Oh my!  Beethoven's Fifth is Disco?  Priceless.


I had to get the boys home early the next morning for football equipment pick-up, but Cooper came back downtown later for his first concert.  We were going to the Doobie Brothers/Chicago concert at Northerly Island, and I gave Cooper a ticket for his birthday gift.  He loved it!  Standing, dancing, singing... he totally got into it.

On Sunday, I think I napped the day away.

RPM

I don't watch the show, but Nancy and Jodee do, so the very next day after girls' dinner, we headed to Bill and Giuliana Rancic's restaurant, RPM. We were seated at Bill and Giuliana's table because we are just that cool. (No, Bill and Giuliana were not there, but if they had been, they would have LOVED our company).

We started off with a little cocktail (of which now I cannot remember it's yummy name).
I think Jodee became really nervous when we were told that this was yet again a place to share plates.  I felt really bad because I know I wouldn't want to have to eat with me if I were in their places.
But, it wasn't too bad, we shared two salads and four appetizers, and then we each ordered our own pasta dish.

I was really having issues with trying to remember to get a photo of each dish.  We had shredded brussels sprouts with avocado salad and the arugula with shaved artichoke salad.  Both damn yummy.
For appetizers, we had fried olives, gnocchi with gorgonzola, lobster caprese, and roman-style artichokes. I didn't like the gnocchi that well; the gorgonzola taste was too strong for me.  The olives had sausage in them, and the girls loved them.  I quickly fell in love with the artichokes.  HEAVEN.

We ordered a bottle of wine (most likely two) to accompany our dinner.  Our mini pasta dishes were:  sweet pea risotto, the special ravioli, short rib pappardelle, prosciutto pansotti (I'm not 100% sure about the last one).  And here's what happen with the pasta:  we scarfed down those bitches like it was our last meal on earth.  Our plates were all void of any pasta, but we could see sauce, so we did what we had to do.  We yelled at any busboy that came by to try to take our plates, and ordered bread so that we could lick our plates clean.
We ordered two of the desserts, both of which were chocolate, and both of which I wish I could eat everyday for breakfast (not that they are breakfast foods, I just want it everyday). OH MY!!

Afterwards, we walked to The Westin on the river so that we could continue drinking and talking.  This seems to be our "go-to" joint.  It's relatively quiet so that we can hear one another, has cozy couches, and they give you free nuts!
Nancy and I had taken the 'L' from my place to the restaurant, and our way back, Nancy was such a chicken shit!  She was so scared of the 'L' at night. Sheesh, you can tell that one lives in the suburbs.
But, as always, great night with even greater friends.

May Girls' Dinner

This past Thursday, the group headed to Sable Kitchen & Bar for our monthly get together.  The executive chef of this joint is Heather Terhune of Top Chef fame.  (I was trying to count, and I think this is the third restaurant we've been to of a Top Chef contestant...we have many more to go).
Sable dishes are meant to share, and because I am a MAJOR pain in the ass when it comes to what I will eat, the group hates me at these types of places, and I don't blame them one bit.


We had mini wild mushroom veggie burgers, pear and brie flatbread, tuna tartar tostadas, sweet corn creme brulee, potato and cheese pierogis, balsamic roasted cauliflower, and bacon wrapped dates.

The food was fantastic.  The stuff was really good.  I think it's all about being a bit brave at some places (yeah, that's coming from the chick who won't eat meat, mushrooms, or olives), but something that sounds strange like sweet corn creme brulee is delicious.  It's a strange phenomenon when you are sharing plates, there is always a bit left because no one wants to seem greedy and take the last bite.  So silly.

The best part of my evening, was my 'L' ride back home.  I walked down into the subway, and I heard music playing, so I peaked through the little doorway in the subway tunnel, and saw the musician singing and playing guitar on the other side of the tunnel.  I stood and watched and listened to him serenade ME with "Darling, you send me, ooooh, darling, yooooouuuu send me, honestly you do" for quite awhile.  I motioned to my camera, and gestured to him to make sure he was cool with me snapping his photo, and he moved to the edge of the platform, so that he was a bit closer to me, and allowed me to snap away.  As he heard my train coming, he stopped playing, and blew me a kiss.





That is kind of stuff I live for.  The little serendipitous moments.

A juicy evening, indeed.