It's time ... almost.

As I write this, my sweet orange kitty Eric is dying. He'll be gone sometime between now, and four days from now - either because he's slipped away on his own, or because I have taken the final step and put him to sleep. I feel a little silly calling it "put to sleep" - but don't like the alternative "put him down". I could keep searching for other ways to say it, but think I'll just go with "put to sleep", which is what we called it when I was a kid. I knew then, and know now, that it is an act of mercy, for everyone involved really. Not something to be rushed into, but also not something to put off for too long once the time is nigh.
My husband and I took him to our vet, Dr. S, a couple of weeks ago, because he'd just gotten so skinny, and wasn't eating well.  Dr. S is a gruff, no nonsense man, like a thinner Wilfred Brimley, with sad eyes, framed by heavy, dramatically wrinkled lids. If he thinks that what you just said is kind of stupid, he doesn't  hesitate to tell you. But he's also given to displays of unexpected sweetness, saying things like "Cats don't worry or care so much about living here on earth, not like we do, and soon his little spirit will go off to kitty heaven and he'll be waiting for you when you get there."
An x-ray showed a mass. "It's pretty hard..." Dr. S said, gently probing his belly, "... and that's not a good sign, not good at all."  It was sort of near his bladder, from what we could see. Hard to tell exactly without doing a sonogram and/or exploratory surgery, which would cost $300 and $600 respectively. We don't have the money for either of those things right now, not really. I mean REALLY not really. We do not. So lucky for us, Dr. S didn't think either of those things were really worth doing. He winced when I asked about chemo or any kind of treatment, or maybe trying that exploratory surgery, to see if there was any chance of removing it.
"You need to think about how much you want to put this 15 year old kitty through." he said, not unkindly, but not all "comfort and roses" either. It was more like a little shake, to bring me to my senses. He said we could give him subcutaneous fluids to get him re-hydrated and see if that helped his appetite perk up and to call in a few days to let him know how Eric was doing. So, we took him home, did the fluid thing, and he did perk up, a little at least.
But soon he seemed to be losing ground again. When I took Eric in for another check-up, about two weeks later, he'd pretty much stopped eating, barely a tablespoon of food a day, if that, for over a week. He'd lost another pound and a half, a lot for a cat. Dr. S looked at me, sighed a sigh containing all the final sighs of all the animals he'd devoted his life and heart to, and said, "I think it's time we think about ending this for him. Are there people at home who need to say a final goodbye?"
I'm crying by now, of course. "Not really..." I say, "... my husband is out of town. He's on tour, and I'm by myself..."
He felt that I should take Eric home, spend the weekend with him. Then bring him back in on Monday. But then he realized that they wouldn't be in on Monday because of Columbus Day, and that he himself wouldn't be in again until Thursday - so - ugh. What to do?  I asked if we should do it "now, right now..." and he drew back, a little horrified, "No!"
He really, truly thought I needed to spend more time with my kitty. He wanted me to say goodbye. And I'm glad, but, it's also been a little torturous. I cried most of the rest of the day on Friday - managed to stop crying and go to work on Saturday, but only by banning all thoughts of Eric entirely. When a co-worker started to tell me about her cat's minor stomach ailment I mostly just nodded, "uh huh..." Another co-worker joined us and chirped, "They're like our children aren't they?"
I extricated myself from the conversation without anyone noticing, and made it through the rest of the job, a cocktail party for 55,  in tact. But now here I sit, at my computer, writing this essay about my dying cat, free to cry as much as I want. And because I'm also an actress, I just looked at my crying face in the mirror and thought, quite seriously, "I cry as good as Claire Danes don't I? I think I do." Thank you "Carol's Ego", for making Carol laugh.
Anyway, as sad as I am, which is very, that whole "they're like our children" business kind of bothers me. Because, I'm sorry, but they are not. Losing a pet, as sad as it is, can't possibly be like losing a child. I have nothing to base this on really, since I have no children. But I can do my best to put myself in the place of my friends who are parents. I can see the look in their eyes when they're simply showing me a picture of their child, and I can guess at the incredible pain I know they would feel at the loss of that child. I can't feel it, of course, but surely, the pain of losing a child, on a scale of 1 to 10 has got to be infinity. Beyond any conceivable scale.
The pain of losing a pet is more like losing a friend. I've lost a few friends, sadly, so I know what that's like. And that's what I'm feeling now, with Eric. He's been a good friend. And yes, a bit "child-like" in that he's an innocent little creature that I agreed to take care of. He's always been a snuggler. He's always gazed into my eyes, purring like mad, reaching out his paw to touch my face, like a lover, or yes, more accurately, like a little child, motivated by all that is good and makes life worth living; the pure pleasure of connection. He drinks my bath water for Christ's sake! Hot bath water, even it's got soap or bath oil in it, because it's mine. That's how much he loves me. So I get it, I get it when people say "they're like our children" - I just don't buy it. And I don't need to say that to justify how sad I am, which, as noted, is very. I know that when Eric finally goes, I'll cry some more, and yes, I'm crying now, but I'll stop soon enough. In a day or two at most. I'll always miss him, but it won't be a wound that never heals. Closure is possible with the loss of a pet, and even with the loss of a friend. But with the loss of a child? I don't know if closure ever comes.
What I hope is that Eric will last four more days, until Thursday, so that I can take him back to Dr. S, to have him put to sleep. But I'm not sure he'll last that long. Dr. S wasn't sure either, so he gave me a syringe that I can give Eric myself if I feel the time has arrived before Thursday. He showed me where to inject it, behind the last rib, into his side. Oh my god. Jesus Christ. I don't think I can do that. I don't want to do that. Please tell me that I don't have to do that.
And that's were I am now. Waiting. Waiting to say goodbye to my sweet kitty friend. And looking forward to the closure that I know will come, with time.

Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown (in his own words)

(interview, already in progress) ... So Paul Ryan runs into my office screaming, "He's not budging. YOU SAID HE'D BUDGE!! But he's not!! He's not going to defund Obamacare! And he won't fix the budget!! And he won't do any of the other stuff YOU SAID he'd do!!!"
"Calm down Ryan!" I said, "There's no crying in Congress!" (except for Boehner, ha ha). 
But - he just kept crying so I sent him out to get some air. Therefore, I'm afraid you'll just have to hear from me, Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown. Yes, yes, please write that down. I'd like you to write that every time you write my name. Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown. Thank you.
Wait, what did you say?? Did you seriously just ask me what is wrong with Obamacare?? Well, it's worse than slavery! It's like nine hundred nuclear bombs covered with AIDS! That's what's wrong with it! It's like something the Nazis would do! And Hitler, you know? Have you HEARD of Hitler? You're actually asking me how it's like Hitler? Well how is it not like Hitler?? That's my question to you! Can you answer that??
OK - I hear you speaking, saying things that sound like ways you think Obamacare is different from Hitler, but you might as well be speaking in some kind of foreign language to me because it doesn't make any sense and I'm not going to discuss it anymore. Next question.
What still needs to be fixed in the budget? Did you just ask me that??? Well it's too big!! Duh!! You certainly wouldn't run your household the way we run this government. Can you imagine?? Borrowing money from China to buy things for your family? Like, say you had a young son, a toddler perhaps - and you needed, of course, to buy him things, like medicine, and clothes, and toys; I guess ... though I'll tell you, and this is true, kids are usually pretty happy with a box. That's what I get my kids every year, for birthdays and Christmas too. I go to all the big toy stores and snag some really good boxes, right there in the dumpster, in perfectly good condition, usually with pictures of toys right on them and  I give those boxes to my kids instead of toys and they're happy as can be! OH sure they whine about it at first, "But Daddy! Our friends get the actual toys! Not just the boxes!" But then when I explain to them the fiscal sense of my giving them free boxes, instead of paying good money for toys, Chinese toys that are very likely covered in poison and poop germs, well, they stop crying and sit down with those boxes and have a ball. Kids love fiscal sense! It makes 'em feel safe! Why the Democrats don't want their kids to feel safe I couldn't tell you, but they don't, which is why they reject the laws of fiscal sense. And why they don't understand that we need to run the government like a household. "But our government's not like a household Congressman Cruz!" people say. "Yes!" It is!" I say. End of discussion. 
Do I know economists disagree with me on that? Well I guess if I believed in economists that would mean something to me, but you know, I might as well believe in The Tooth Fairy. Economists are just like scientists. They believe all this mumbo jumbo based on research and stuff, and they've got charts and graphs that they CLAIM show facts and stuff, but the real deal is this ... God tells me what I need to know. End of story. I get a message from God, and I get that message pretty much every hour on the hour, and that message is this. "Ted! Don't cave. Don't listen to 'em. Don't let that bastard win!" That's right. God, speaking DIRECTLY TO ME, refers to President Obama as a bastard!! Listen, I wouldn't believe it if I didn't hear it myself, every hour on the hour, but I do. I tried to record it on my iphone, so I could play it for everyone in the world, but - of course, you can't capture the voice of our Heavenly Father on a worldly mobile device. And I was arrogant to think I could, so God took me down a peg for that by giving me a pretty mean case of diarrhea! Now a lot of other Reps got it as well and they think it's because our Government Shutdown sent all the staff home from the Congressional dining hall meaning we had to prepare our own grub and somebody (I'm looking at you Boehner!) probably didn't wash their hands properly after going to the bathroom. But - well - I don't know - even though other people got it too, I still think my diarrhea is special and was sent from God. And as far as I'm concerned, what I think goes, know what I mean? I don't need to "listen to other people" or "weigh the facts" or "learn from history" or any of that. I've got me, myself and I, and, of course, Him, and those are the only Facts that I need to weigh. So here's the deal. God says "Ted Cruz! Mastermind of the Government Shutdown! That bastard cannot win under any circumstances!"
His words - not mine. So, even if everything ends up getting destroyed to achieve that, well, as we all know, God has destroyed things before. So - if he wants to do that again, through me, then I, his humble servant, have no choice in the matter. Because God hates that bastard Obama! It's not up to me, and Amen to that! Because that would be a lot of pressure! And I probably wouldn't be up to the task IF it weren't for God guiding me: Ted Cruz, Mastermind of the Government Shutdown.
End it like that, if you don't mind. I just love the way that sounds you know? Oops! I've got to run to the bathroom. If you'll excuse me.

What I did yesterday? Forget it.

Well - that certainly didn't work. Me writing a daily blog entry called "What I Did Yesterday" - as a ploy to get myself to write more - or write period. I've really fallen off the old bandwagon. Way off - and neither the "wagon" or the "band" is anywhere in sight.
Fine then - that wasn't the answer. And there will be NO series called "What I Did Yesterday". And no one will mind. I'm sure.
I do feel like writing again though - and so - I will. And we'll see how that goes.
This time I'll keep in mind that my schedule is weird - odd-ball - unpredictable; so for the foreseeable future, anything like regular "daily" writing isn't likely. Or - maybe it's the "publishing" part that's the problem/challenge - maybe that's what's really getting in my way.
Maybe instead of feeling I need to publish something every day (even if it's just on this wee blog that pretty much nobody - except you two ;-) - actually reads at the moment, I can just write, and publish once or twice a week?
It's the publishing part that takes so long after all, the editing, the "finishing" part that one must do before hitting that little "publish" button, that is what can take so long!
So - maybe to 'write' every day - but not to have to 'publish' every day - is the secret to getting to a place where I can actually write and publish more, rather than these little flashes I have every few months - that disappear the second I get busy with too much work, too much running around, or too much whatever else.
(e.g. at the end of June this summer - I was suddenly hired to do a play - a challenging, funny, thought-provoking play, going to The Edinburgh Fringe Festival for a whole month! It was an adventure to be sure - and I'll write about that next, as best I can. (though I may need to hire a lawyer - or a body guard - or something - ha.)
It was a trip, in more ways than one.

What I did yesterday - the day before that, and the day before that.

Dagnabbit!!
I done got behind here.
Cuz I got a wonkity schedule and I jus cain't always git it all squared away and get all of everythin' I wanna do done. You ever been thar??
I'ma bettin' that ya have.
And I ain't got much time today neither, so's I'm gonna do this at a bit of a clip.
Startin' with Monday - Not much to say about that - so I'm not going to dwell on it.
(A cop out!! I know!! Call the cops.)
Tuesday - went to therapy. I probably do have stuff to say about that ... but I don't got no time to get into that now - so - I ain't gonna say nuthin' about that either.
(Withholding! I know! Or is it resistance ... Call the therapy cops and ask them why don'tcha)
Then I went to Trader Joe's - which I love. And bought stuff I like to buy there - like wine (great prices! and no - I'm not talking about $2 buck Chuck or that cheapo crap. I'm talking nice bottles that are $15 to $20 elsewhere and $10 to $15 there - and you  know - other great stuff they've got there. Their toilet paper. (I like it! Don't know why really) Kind bars (good price point) Organic Celery! (great price on that!) (Brie Bites! Perfect for diet's - portion controlled goodness 'on the go'! - etc.
Then I did a very large party - I was a KA (kitchen assistant) and it was on the water (on the shore though - thank God - as I don't like to work on boats!) and it was gorgeous! And nice weather! and it was stressful - high pressure! But  went great - and the food was great - like really great - etc.
OK - Wednesday. Yesterday - got acupuncture! For nagging knot of pain in shoulder/upper back that continues to plague me - (Acupuncture is included in our health plan! Which is so great! + a free mini-chair massage from the massage/yoga guy at our "health collective" - Yes! We have a health collective!! And it's great!!) - then I went to Macy's - quickly - to see if they had one more shirt there like the other one I got that I really liked. It had a peplum waist, and that is what I should wear almost all the time for my body type - that's what I've learned lately about dressing -- but - they didn't have another one. That's OK
And there was a lady there who was an  "out-loud shopper". Which means that she narrated everything she was doing, VERY LOUDLY, as she walked around the store. "Two for $15.99!! That's a good price that's what that is!!" She declared at the top of her lungs. "I'm gonna get six of 'em!" Then - "I don't like them "boy" lookin' shorts for MY underwear - No I do not!" "I don't like them high cuts either. I like me a hipster brief! Ain't none a' them on sale?" "Can't nobody help me in this store?" "Don't nobody work here?" "This here is a good price too. I'ma get me six a' these here."
And so on. And - she had a young child with her, her grandson I'm guessing, who kept running away.
"Why you keep runnin' off Peewee!" she shouted.

"I know why you run off Peewee ..." I thought to myself. "Run Peewee Run!!"
And that's it - for now. :-)

What I did yesterday ...

Yesterday was Sunday - and the living was easy. Relatively easy anyway. But for the pain. the nagging constant pain in my back (upper left - sort of under the ol' shoulder blade and up over the top of the shoulder). An awful, self-massage-resistant knot that will not go away.
I remembered my friend Mary recommended a massage place, around the corner, that she said was pretty cheap and very good. I put it off for another hour or so, just to ... I don't know, suffer more?
Then I called. AND THEY ANSWERED!!!!
"Hi, I was wondering if you've got time for a one hour massage today, like ... within the hour?"
I think I sound desperate, and it's kind of embarrassing.
The woman on the other end, or was it a youngish girl? ... hesitated a moment.
"OH NO! Oh no..." I shrieked silently to myself, "... what if they're all booked!???"
Then - happily - she said, "Maybe ... 6:00pm?"
"Yes! Yes. That's great, thanks."
Oh my god! Relief. Now I'd just have to wait two whole hours, and I'd be in, Flynn-like.
I used the time to straighten up the apartment and lay on the floor hugging my knees to my chest, and to enter the calories I'd eaten so far into the calorie counter website and figure out what to have for dinner, and how many calories that might be.
Then - before I knew it,  I was lying on a table wearing only my underpants, face-down under a sheet with my face in the hole-thing you put your face in when you get a massage, John Tesh-ish music playing softly, and the massage therapist arrived. God love her. I pointed out the spot that hurt the most, hoping that this wouldn't be just the usual, sort of "general" massage, but that she would truly, sincerely, address my knot.
Well. I'm happy to report - that she addressed the hell out of it.
I have never experienced a massage exactly like this one. She was psychic. Or more specifically, her fingers were psychic. Or maybe she had X-Ray fingers. I don't know. I just know she was all up in there, working the hell out of my whole shoulder carriage, both sides, but with special attention to the sorest side. Climbing on top of me, elbows, knees, her head maybe? I don't know. But I didn't need to know. This woman had a plan. She knew what she was doing. What truly blew my mind though, was the way she attacked me armpit. As a way to get to the underside/backside of my shoulder? Mashing, digging and probing around in my arm-pit as if it were a drain and she'd just dropped her wedding ring down it.
"What is she doing?" I wondered, alarmed. "Is this a Lymph thing? A Qi thing? An Exorcist thing?"
It hurt. It hurt so much I almost asked her to stop. Almost. But I didn't. I rarely do. Because, nine times out of ten, whatever they are doing, no matter how much it hurts, seems like something that should, no must, be done. I trusted her and was willing to let her hurt me however she saw fit. And sure enough, at some point during the arm-pit thing, I felt some release. And relief. Not cured. Not gone. But better.
One time - years ago, I got a very cheap Chinatown massage, on a whim, and it hurt - a lot, and I finally DID tell him that he needed to "do less". It didn't work though. I thought he was going to crush my skull, or maybe tear off my arm and use it to pry my other arm off. He had no plan. He did not know what he was doing. Maybe he didn't even work there. I was sore for days afterwards.
Yesterday, as I was having that great, and surprising massage (arm pits!), I thought of my mother. Not because she loved massage, but because it would be so completely surprising to her that I, or anyone, a woman especially, would do that. Take ones clothes off and lay under a sheet, while a total stranger touches you for an hour? With oil? And sometimes it's a man instead of a woman??! Incredible. Unbelievable. Unfathomable! I like to imagine that she can see me, from her special place in heaven (the kitchen, if they're lucky). And that she thinks it's cool.  An exotic adventure. Something that takes balls. Like lots of things I've done, move to New York, acting, cooking for money, the whole thing. I like to imagine her watching me at an audition, or on a set, or getting a massage, or searing duck breasts for a  dinner for 20, or running down the subway steps and catching that damned train. And I imagine she's smiling, her eyes crinkling up at the improbable stuff this daughter of hers has done. And I know there were times that her back hurt like heck. And I'm sorry that she couldn't have gotten a massage, but ... that's OK. I'll just take her to mine.

What I did yesterday ...

Yesterday I slept too late. Late for me anyway. I woke up initially at 6:30am, but that was too early, considering that I'd gone to bed after 12:30am the night before. I need at least seven hours of sleep - maybe seven and a half - though seven is fine, really. But - it was kind of hard for me to go back to sleep. I finally did, but then I didn't wake up until 8:45am. I hate that. I have friends who consider 8:45am early though - and a couple of friends who regularly get up at 5:30am (and not just because they have kids - they just LIKE it) - so - I guess it's all relative really. I, personally, like to get up around 7:30am. That is my ideal.
Then I had tea - watched NY1 (favorite news channel) and ate one of my favorite breakfasts: 1/4 of an avocado, mashed with a little salt and lemon juice then spread on a piece of toasted Ezekiel bread , with 1/2 ounce of goat cheese, an over-medium egg, 2 ounces of smoked salmon and a small salad of arugula and grape tomatoes with olive oil, sea salt and lemon juice.
Somewhere in there I came up with this idea to write "What I did yesterday..." - so I did that, yesterday, for the first time. (this being the second time - for those following along at home)
Then I went to work.
A wedding - Indian Muslim - in a gorgeous party space in Brooklyn that used to be an old bank. Back when people had money and banks looked like a cross between a palace and a very large, well appointed mausoleum. Not like now - when a new bank is indistinguishable from any other business: Charles Schwab, Edible Arrangements, Super Cuts ... only the presence of fruit on skewers, ribbons and baskets or barber chairs and scissors make one discernible from the other. Old banks are uplifting. New banks are depressing. No one will ever have a wedding in a new bank.

I was in the kitchen at this particular wedding, so didn't get to see much of it. The people I saw on my way downstairs to the bathroom were strikingly beautiful, as a group, and they seemed to be having a good time. The music was unusual, a live string quartet playing hits from the 60's through 90's, in Muzak fashion, like what they played in the dentist office when I was a kid. "Benny and the Jets" for viola and violin. And this wedding - being Muslim, had no alcohol. NO ALCOHOL. I was released before it ended, but I'm thinking it didn't run late.
I've worked other weddings like that, with no alcohol. One in particular I remember, where I was on the floor, not in the kitchen.  A white couple, very Christian, from the Midwest. They'd moved here for work. She wasn't "un-pretty" - just very plain. She wore no make-up - a very simple, unadorned, long white dress and had her hair up in a "banana clip", as if she were just running out to the store for a quart of milk, rather than about the get married.
He, on the other hand, wore a Prince Valiant hair-cut - very precise, a simple, light colored suit with slightly larger than usual lapels, a tie I can't remember, eye-liner, mascara and blush.
Seriously.
They toasted with Twizzlers which were placed in glasses on all the tables. It wasn't yesterday, but I remember it like it was.
Back to yesterday. I came home on the G train, operating with delays due to track work (so it took an hour) had a snack and a glass of white burgundy, watched a little TV and was then saddened to learn, via Facebook, of the death of Jean Stapleton. I loved her.

What I did yesterday ...

Hi - I'm trying something new. It's called "What I did yesterday". In an attempt to make myself - cajole myself - insist to myself that I write more I'm going to write "what I did yesterday" and put it on here - every day. I suppose it's possible that I might miss a day here and there - but I'll try not to. And if I do - I guess it will be a special feature called "What I did for the past 2 days" - which isn't as good a title. (I'll still write other stuff too and hopefully, writing "what I did yesterday" will help with that as well.)
I predict that this will take off like a "house'a'fire" (an expression that people who've actually had their houses catch on fire do not care for) - and that readers will soon flock to find out - yes - "what I did yesterday".
Here goes:
Yesterday I got a manicure and pedicure and let me tell you - things are not going well for Reese Witherspoon, but I couldn't really find out why, exactly, because someone tore out the key page with the info (probably someone working for Reese) (I know it involved alcohol - and some poor decisions) Also - Jason Sedeikis and his new girlfriend went to Hawaii and kissed a LOT, and she loves him because he "can actually 'see' her." Kim Kardasian bought an ... $8000 crib and a $17,000 stroller and has gained a lot of weight, especially in her face. And there are women who's entire days seem to revolve around exfoliating. (these women also buy skirts and tops in the $300 to $700 range - sometimes just to wear to the beach)
I also had to go back to a catering company I'd done prep for the day BEFORE yesterday - because I'd left my knives there and needed to go get them. And - I spoke with a young couple - black - "middle-class or at least they went to Catholic school" looking - maybe 16 or 17 - native New Yorkers (I think) - who were trying to decide if they should go to Coney Island or Brighton Beach - as they'd never been to either. (yes - you can be a native New Yorker and still not have gone to Coney Island - but - they could also have just moved here from New Jersey - or - maybe they were from the Bronx. I don't know - but they didn't seem like tourists). I mention their race because I think it is relevant to their reaction to me, e.g. when I first started talking to them they looked a little wary, or surprised, or both - this could just as easily have to do with their age though, since they were so young, and I, in their eyes, probably seemed very old - or maybe just irrelevant. (I remember this from my own youth - when people over 35 or so just weren't ... relevant.) Never the less, I was sitting right next to them (elevated platform on the F/G train - Smith and 9th Street) so chimed in that they could go to both - as Brighton and Coney were basically right next to each other. They asked what was the difference - and I said that Brighton was very Russian - with a lot of Russian people - and that Coney ... was not. They seemed genuinely delighted by this news - as if they'd never imagined that there were actually people - from Russia - here - and that they had their own beach no less. Then I came home - made dinner (whole wheat pasta with chicken and greens) watched TV and went to bed.

A Thing for Spring

Sometimes in New York City you have one of those days where negative thoughts come into your head and there's nothing to be done.
 "F#%k you!" I think, when the subway conductor thanks us for our "patience" until our delayed train moves again.
"Patience?" I silently shout, "We're stuck on the train you moron! Patience has nothing to do with it!!"
Then later, when I can finally leave the train, "Oh Jesus! Seriously?" This because the person ahead of me is on crutches - or very old - or both, and they're in my way!
Or, "Crap!!" as I spot the harried Mom, preparing to struggle up the subway stairs with her baby/stroller/giant bag. "I don't have to help her ... " I hiss in my head. "I helped somebody yesterday - isn't that enough??"
Or other times its just a random torrent of vitriol. "This sucks! This s#%t sucks! F%#k this s%#t AND f%#k you too buddy and your little pig nosed baby or dog or whatever the hell that is!"
This all happens quickly, seamlessly - like liquid. Liquid feces I guess. Bad liquid, suffice to say.
Sometimes I'm not really concerned about it. I might even laugh at myself. "Criminy Carol, lighten up!" - ha ha.
But other times - it's a little alarming.
What is all this negative energy I'm spewing out doing? Is it creating MORE negative energy? Probably. Are other people doing it too? Probably. What would happen if suddenly all my thoughts were out loud and not just in my head. What if everyone's were. Would it be a chorus of "F%#k you's!!" that would swell into something with it's own unique beauty? A punk rock Gregorian chant?
Or more like "Music to Kill By - Satan's Greatest Hits! Vol. I".
Or would it be all pillowy, meandering day dreams,  random grocery lists, errands "to do" and done - with only my shrill and hateful thoughts stinkin' up the joint.
I don't know. But I do know it's not the thing for Spring (or any season, really) And here's the cure - I think.
It's something I started doing shortly after I moved here, when I first noticed those rotten little "thought bubbles" popping up. I would look around at my fellow travelers - on the train - on the street - wherever - and silently wish them luck. If I happened to make eye contact or not, either way,  I'd look at someone and send this mental message, "Good luck sir" or "Good luck ma'am" or "young man" or "young lady", whatever seemed to fit. And a wave of peace would wash over me.  A little space would open in my collar bone, allowing a tiny beam of light to peep through. Not enough to blind anyone or wreck an airplane - not like a laser pointer - just a warm little beam.
It was  - in short - a very noticeable change. And I started to wonder, "When I'm thinking all those mean things - does that have a physical effect on me too?"
It wasn't one I was particularly aware of - just a kind of tight, stony feeling. Which is, not that I think about it "an effect".  It was just hard to notice until I switched the "F%#k you's" to the "Good Lucks". 
Well. I totally forgot about that yesterday, and I spewed mental curses left and right, willy-nilly, a hateful mental drunk on a bender. And I just want to say, "I'm sorry New York City".
And "Good luck to you sir - madame - young lady - young man" - and to all who eschew those labels too.
I'm turning a new leaf for Spring. Or pulling an old leaf out my spiritual sweater box. From now on - until I forget - that friendly little leaf will be my touch stone.
Ah! my collar bone  just opened up! Just a little, letting out enough light to get through the day, the night, and so on. Yay Spring!

Make this: Broccoli children will eat!

I made this for a job a couple of nights ago - for 15 people (used 2.5 bunches of broccoli - should have used 3. Everyone raved about it. After the plates were cleared, the nanny (for two of the three toddlers at the table) ran into the kitchen and said "You've got to tell me how you made that! Maxie's never eaten broccoli - but he ate two servings of that!"
I gave her this recipe.
Children - will eat this broccoli.
Adults will to. 

Roasted Broccoli

1 bunch broccoli (though you might as well go ahead and get 2 - or 3 - because this is so good)
extra virgin olive oil
salt - pepper
fresh lemon

heat oven to 475
wash broccoli and cut florets - not too big - not too small - you know - medium-y. Also - if you're lucky enough to have broccoli with stalks - peel them - putting them on your cutting board and running a sharp knife - like a good paring knife - around them - laterally, e.g. "sideways" - like they are little logs and you're peeling the bark off of them. Then cut them into chunks about an inch or so - again - medium-y (they're pretty if you cut them on the bias - e.g. "at an angle".
toss with olive oil - 2 tsp - 3 at most (really - TEASPOONS - not tablespoons) - will be enough for one bunch of broccoli - add salt and pepper - but not lemon - not yet.
Put on a flat baking pan - like a jelly roll pan - and make sure the pieces aren't too crowded. They need a little space between them - don't let them be all piled up like puppies.
Put in hot oven - and wait - when you start to smell it - it will smell like you are cooking broccoli over a campfire (kind of) - then take the pan out and toss the broccoli around a little. Put back in the oven. Keep an eye on it (with your nose) Once you get used to this method - you'll be able to smell when it's ready. The goal is for it to be tender enough to chew - a little more tender than "crisp tender" - but not "smoushy". It should have some black/brown - caramelized spots and the ends of the florets should be getting a singed look to them. Once that has happened - but not until it has happened - it's ready. Adjust seasoning - adding more salt as needed - and spritz with fresh lemon juice. DELICIOUS!!

Make this: Potato Cauliflower Puree

Yes yes - this idea basically came from The South Beach Diet - a diet I've never been on, will never go on and don't particularly care for (though it's better than it's greasy, grouchy older brother The Atkin's Diet - also known as "The Bacon Diet" or the "You don't look so good are you feeling OK? diet").
I hope I'm making it clear that I don't advocate a low or no carb "life-style". (life-style? Really? Is it a "lifestyle" ??? Next thing you know they'll want to get legally married!)
BUT seriously - this recipe is very good. I make it a lot. It is easily variable (try it with turnips! Or parsnips! Sweet potato! And so on) it can be rustic - or fancy. And - it's NOT "no carb" anyway - since it's got some potato in it. But because it's "low-carb" - it's got way less calories - and you can eat it - and enjoy it - and save your "carbs" for some good whole wheat bread - brown rice - quinoa or whatever.
Potato Cauliflower Puree

1 large head cauliflower - creamy white or light yellow - with no spots if possible.  (about 2 pounds)
1 or 2  russet - or yellow potatoes (just not the waxy red ones) (about 10 or 12 ounces - tops)
low fat buttermilk OR low fat milk - 1 or 2 cups (buttermilk is better)
extra virgin olive oil
butter
salt - pepper

Peel potatoes then cut into biggish pieces. . 
cut up cauliflower - also in biggish pieces - discarding leaves.  Put potatoes in a medium pot with water and salt and bring to a boil (make sure the pot has room to fit the cauliflower too) - once boiling - turn heat down to medium and simmer for about 8 minutes, then add the cauliflower. Simmer until the potato and the cauliflower are completely tender - easily pierced with a paring knife. Drain - then place back in the empty pot. Put the pot on the flame, shaking, briefly - just to dry everything off. (careful not to scorch it) - start adding the buttermilk (or regular, low fat milk) - start with 1/2 cup - mashing with your potato masher of choice - and continue, adding more buttermilk as needed until you have the consistency you want. If you want a very smooth puree a "stick" blender comes in handy - or - put the mixture through a ricer. Add a tablespoon of butter AND a tablespoon of good olive oil. Or - just add one of the other, though I like the combo. If it's a special occasion and you're not watching calories so closely - add a little more. If you are watching calories - you could even get by with a little less.  You could also add a little low-fat sour cream or creme fraiche - or even a little heavy cream (as little as a 1/4 cup will make a big difference). A dash of freshly grated nutmeg is good in this too, plus fresh ground pepper - white pepper if you don't want it to show. Reheat gently over low flame - or keep in a low oven - covered - until ready to serve.
* This is really an "al gusto" recipe - the amounts of liquid, fat and salt you add should be to your taste. Even at it's most ascetic - with the least amount of added butter or oil - this recipe is still delicious. I served it to my brother - who loves all things caloric - and he was shocked that it was mostly cauliflower AND and that it was so lean. Shocked I say!

makes about 8 cups - about 90 calories in a cup if you use the 2 tbl. of oil and/or butter - and don't add the cream.  I'm not 100% sure of the amount here - as it's hard for me to know exactly how big your cauliflower and/or potatoes will be - but - err on the side of making extra. It makes good leftovers - and is easy to turn into a little cream of cauliflower/potato soup!