Posts Tagged ‘alone’

The funeral is tomorrow

Someone I know just lost a mother. She was very old, frail, half out of her mind – and managing her existence consumed most of my acquaintance’ life. Still, she was loved, and now being missed. Three of us from the office are going to the funeral tomorrow, each bringing some dish for after-service reception in church’s rec hall. Can I bring “deviled eggs” to church?, – I joked, but they missed the pun; I guess the answer is yes, a mountain to Muhammad if not the reverse..

While I was rolling the 20 boiled eggs in the evening quiet of my home, I heard shouts from the open windows. At first I took it for a neighbors’ quarrel – sometimes their internal affairs spill on the backyard deck, and all 6 adjacent backyards become an involuntary audience – but noticed irregular repetition of only one word.

“Fire”, said the voice. “Fire! Fire!”. It was answered by another “don’t just say it, call 911”. I leaned out of the window. In the still warmth of Indian summer darkness a glow appeared on my right. It was getting coral, then reddish in a matter of minutes, and in the astonished silence terrible cracking sounds were becoming voluble. I felt a strange indifference. The source of the glow was unclear – is it at neighbor’s? at the wing of my own building? a reflection of house across the street? “I probably should dress and prepare my documents, checkbook and wallet” – the notion was as strange and disconnected as the stillness outside. Why should I? There would be nobody to miss me. Slowly, I returned to the kitchen and proceeded to peel yet another egg shell. Suddenly the fire engine sirens filled the air and the silence broke. Several people yelled and talked at once, someone jumped on the outhouse roof, a bonfire smell floated inside – as if it was released by a fireman’s permission – and everyone and everything got moving. In a few minutes it was over. No more glow, nor cracking sounds: the quiet returned and darkness spread.


Creative translation & interpretation here. Missing the point, as usual.

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Вот так, на рысях с West на East side, проходя тротуарами тёмными, тихой улицей, тающей мглой …а вот и нет! улицы громыхающие, тьма здесь никогда не бывает полной, а тротуары – гладкими

вдруг узнаёшь свою давнюю радость, дежавю изнутри: по тому же быстрому счастью быть здесь, сейчас, переходя 5ю по 33й, среди смеси прохожих парфюмов и амбрэ от год немытого бомжа на заплёваном бордюре. пробежавши за час с 15го по 1й этаж 200Lex, насмотревшись прекрасных вещей, продуманно одетых людей, напробовавшись просекко и белого с роны, встретив давних приятелей, покормив сыром чью-то собачку – и никаких грёз и тем более нескромных рук –

выплёскиваешься в безвоздушный город и непонятный сезон: и не осень и не лето, не жара, а вневременная духота

двадцать лет откатились назад


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Saturday was rather annoying. I’ve procrastinated long enough, then was sick, then had to buy a rug (another, not less irritating, story – maybe later) – and suddenly, the February is almost over! So I had to man up, brace up and face the Taxes.

¡Mira, panowie! Turbotax  is beyond belief. Because of one measly 1099-MISC I was forced to file as “self-employed”, and in addition to normal income taxes pay another half-a-thou as “self-employment tax”! Is it something new IRS invented this year?  Since when supplemental freelance gigs, accompanying a solid W2 is considered full-blown “business”? And did you know that Medicare and SS “wages and tips”as basis for namesakes taxes are calculated before your voluntary deductions, unlike your Gross? And the not-insignificant Medicare/SS taxes are not counted into your Federal tax paid – so even though your every paycheck is diminished by 1/4 of it’s worth by taxes, your annual federal obligation demonstrates underpayment? That’s what I call Creative Accounting!

So, not surprisingly, I went to bed in a foul mood, had nightmares all night (sinuses being choked up is no help either) and woke up at 5am. What to do, what to do? Opened my Kindle with latest download of Murder: British Library Classic:  a story by Gerald Findler, titled House of Screams. And I read:


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In their hearts…

Tomorrow is the day I am supposed to take the train to my LI mini-vacation. Hotel is booked, train schedule consulted, gym with classes and a day spa found in the vicinity.


I woke up at 7 with a strange feeling – which I had last when pregnant with my 29yo son – that I can’t judge distance to obstacles. Got up and fell on to bed again. Disorientation, loss of balance. Went to bathroom, took a shower – and in a process felt so nauseous, had to step out, dripping and shaking.

Stayed home and search the net for my symptoms (brain still works…or does it? Uncertain)

WebMed says it might be problem with inner ear, result of infection, and it starts suddenly with no warning signs or pain. No prognosis until I see a doctor. Can’t see a doctor, I’m afraid to leave my apartment: walk like an extremely drunk loonie. Doctors (at least, doctors employed by my insurance) do not make house calls. My son is in Japan. I am sitting very straight at my desk and avoid sudden movements.

Want to make gods laugh, tell them of your plans…





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Погадать на пирожках

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-надежды я, конечно, питаю, и намерения более-менее чёткие у меня есть. итоги я тоже, конечно, подвожу – но для себя, а не на публику.
-ещё перед отпуском прочла в event rally программу на выбор где встречать НГ. выбрала Бал Небесных Светил, соображала даже, из чего сварганить наряд, но сборы в дорогу захлестнули, и билет не купила, оставила на потом. а зря (см. длинный тред “а нет ли лишнего билетика”)
-выдвигается план Б: вечер усиленного питания истощённого послеотпускным офисным сумасшествием организма. воздушные куриные фрикадели в бульоне, утиный паштет, баранина облагороженная арборио в трюфельном соусе, салат escarole-с-печёной-свёклой-и-орехами, ягодное желе, 2 хороших вина в аккомпанимент
-обещаю обработать и выложить остальные картинки-с-отпуска. когда-нибудь.
-в субботу иду на Сильвию (проверив рецензию ТТ, разумеется). шоу, предлагающее две близкие моему израненому сердцу темы: midlife crisis и собачек. комедия! да ещё в декорациях Роквелла. у него работает моя давняя сотрудница/приятельница, так что внутреннюю кухню я представляю хорошо.
– божечки, а ведь уже скоро полдень! “что ж я тут с вами болтаю, зря только время теряю!”*

* двойное печенько тому кто признает цитату

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OPNY-15, Day 2

Yesterday dragged myself home, exhausted. Memory card filled, battery died – had to buy a pack on the run between two sites. Saw lots of beautiful, amazing things –  promise to load pics later. Didn’t di my weekend chores, house is covered with dust, started laundry at 11pm, went to bed at 1am: happy as a bird. Now came back from Pilates, emptied camera’s memory and leaving again for Day 2.

Stay tuned!

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