August 30, 2009

Jetlag

In spite of the picture above, I believe it's easier to adjust to jetlag when I'm heading out on a visit to Europe, excited about finally seeing all those sights I've noted in my guidebooks. I swallow a melatonin on the plane, skip their meal, set my watch ahead and try to adjust quickly. Of course, I've not gone to India or Hong Kong lately, which is completely inverted from our day.

We arrived home Friday from our trip to Italy (you can view our travel blog--click on the link to the right). The plane arrived at 1 p.m. Our luggage arrived at the carousel at around 2 p.m. and we were through customs about 5 minutes later, even in spite of my candied citrus peel and wrapped Italian candies for my classes. We arrived at home at 4 p.m. after enduring LA traffic. I was at the grocery store at 4:15 p.m.

I stared at the meat counter. I was jetlagging, seriously jetlagging. I looked at the chicken breasts and didn't think I could remember how to cook those. The fish looked too complicated too. Definitely couldn't face crab, real or fake. The man behind the counter looked at me. I looked at him. I shrugged my shoulders, smiled wanly, and moved on. We had pasta that night, a pale imitation of what we'd had in Montepulciano for lunch, even though I'd bought the expensive, imported pasta in the store that day.

Last night was worse than the night before. I'd taken my melatonin, but the weird thing is that even though my mind insists that it's dark and I should be sleeping, I awake at midnight, hungry or something, or at 3 and find my way to the bathroom, or 5 and decide I'd better give up. I finally got up at 7:30 a.m. groggy as I was when I turned in at 9:30 the previous night.

The worst thing is I can't seem to get traction in my own life, the teaching/grading life that begins again tomorrow full bore. It's going to be an interesting week.

August 6, 2009

It's Thursday


It's Thursday and that means two papers on the driveway--we have the LATimes weekend subscription and greedily dive into real news.

It's Thursday and my Fix-It man can come and put in the light switch in my laundry room that's eaten up 5 hours of my time, four runs to the hardware stores, three different purchased switches.

It's Thursday and it's supposed to be cooler today, but the morning was sunny and hot when my husband and I took our walk.

It's Thursday and I finally got the dead bananas on the counter made up into two loaves of Banana Nut Bread.

It's Thursday and I think I have enough energy to tackle three little almost-done chores around the house: living room curtains, bathroom curtain, quilt backing.

It's Thursday and I heard my daughter's voice today, clear and lilting, with a hint of a smile. Yesterday she went into surgery to cut the child-bearing machinery off at the knees and her heart, already hurting from her peripartum cardiomyopathy hurt more because as she said, "I have no choice in this matter."

It's Thursday and I woke up early, remembering our last phone call last night. I wandered around the house in the early morning, the dawn beginning to break, wondering how she fared on her anti-emetic medicine that she said made her chest hurt even more. I planned her funeral, throwing open my mental closet about what I should wear, how I could help her husband, how to keep in touch with her little children as they grew.

It's Thursday and when I told her all this, she gave the smallest laugh, saying "No Amazing Grace at my funeral. I want the pallbearers to dance down the aisle like they are in that wedding video on YouTube."

It's Thursday and that laugh was what I needed to hear.

It's Thursday and it's already a better day than yesterday.