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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.

Update

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

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Пошатываясь

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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Скорописью

Как-то слишком всё хорошо и удачно последнюю неделю – ух, неспроста! Надо бы поосторожнее.

Получила приглашение на обход showrooms в СОХО ->прогулялась с радостью, увидела много чего замечательного (плиточки и light sculpture, например, какие были прекрасные в Blackbody -> везде отмечали на входе, а вчера оказалось: отмечали не просто так, а внесли в raffle для билета на любое кино в Arch.& Des. Film Fest -> и я таки выиграла билетик.

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Пару дней тому получаю текст…и ещё, и ещё, целую серию.
Пишет сотрудница с которой не виделись 2 года. Азиатка, на 17 лет меня младше, мы с ней работали в 2012г на одного совершенно чокнутого дядю (собственно, она и нынче там, но собирается линять). Раскованная, талантливая, стильная, общительная; 1 де-юре муж и 1 де-факто любовник; куча друзей, родни, и знакомых. Ну что, встретились после работы в новом ресторанчике в Чеслси.

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Having read two of JDC stylized “costume mysteries” (one squeezed in Victorian corset, another – eased in Empire high-waist gown), I had no idea his roaring 20’s adventure on high seas will be so hilarious.

Haven’t had that much pure fun since first encountered P.G. Wodehouse. SRSLY!

All in all, today’s a wonderful day. [long-winded passage redacted, as I’m feeling too sleepy and lazy to proofread]

G’night

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Рецепт выпрошен у Паши Кудрявцева, за что ему ОГРОМНОЕспасибо. Невероятно вкусно.

Итак, на 2 порции:
50 грамм креветок с головой, алебо же лангустинов.
1/2 зубчика чесноку
Чорт… Ciboulette… Лук-батун… По-английски не знаю.
Полторы-две ст. ложки оливкового масла Экстра Вирхен
50 мл белого вина
30 мл рыбного бульёну
50 мл двойных сливок
малая чуточка чёрного перцу смолотого тут же и кайенского.

Очистить креветков и всю шелуху вкупе с головами и в отдельном ковшичке обжарить на ложке оливкового масла. Как покраснеют- добавить вино, за пару минут выпарить алкоголь. В другой сковородке на второй ложке масла за те же две-три минуты обжарить с чесноком очищенных креветков. В ту же сковороду добавить бульон и процеженный отвар из-под шелухи. Туда же сливки. На первом этапе в обоих случаях огонь довольно сильный, далее- слабый. Всё перемешать, добавить перцы и готовить 1-2 минуты не более. Далее облить пасту и проглотить язык)))))))))))))))))

А теперь – дискотека картинки!

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Sick day…or three

Just back from a dental operation. $3K off bank account, in one quick signature. Have a sensation that my jaw turned into a brick and lags behind me every time I turn my head. The thaw is setting on and I’m starting to feel it.

First liquid then soft food, he said, for a couple days or a week. Preferably no talking, and no looking at self in the mirror. In a nutshell, it’s a description of a perfect wife…by some accounts. OK, I’m going to turn on AC and drag in curtains.

I’m out to heal, be back…sometime.

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To anyone concerned

…about me and wondering how I am:
I am smack in the middle of LLLiberal (triple l, l ^10) country, and by country I mean my workplace.
Not only it is run by two Michigan Dems-born California-fed, NYC-GOVERNMENT ex-employed couple.
Our clients are two-fold: govmint agencies with unpronounceable abbrevi-names, and non-profits. I am surrounded by lies, lies, obnoxious hypocritical lies and liars, parasites living lavishly on $million-grants from taxpayers like me – while pretending poverty.
And every day I survive endless humiliations as only self-absorbed, spoiled Liberal can inflict on their dependents – and demand expressions of gratitude as if they bestowed on us all goodwill of their 70’s generation.
By every Saturday I am spent. I am squeezed, worked in-n-out, my mental and physical reserves of perseverance are diminished to the point that I do nothing all day.
Today, in fact, was a day of higher than usual energy: I made myself go out to gym in the morning, and then to dry cleaning, and then to a shoe repair-guy. But now I collapsed, completely exhausted.
At least the freezer is filled and I don’t’ have to cook today!

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***wordpress почему-то поменял ленточку-фон в “закулисном” меню: вместо синенькой-красивенькой теперь там пошлая 6-цветная радуга (без жёлтого). полистала ленту и дошло. это они так празднуют одобрение верховным судом гомосексуальных браков? смело! solidarnosc!

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Matrix shifts

It’s 10pm, 83F outside and feels like 90F.

A fly is stuck to pulsating light of TV. When scene changes to something dark it moves away and then returns unable to resist magic blue screen.

I click on local news to learn if the rain is coming. The weather guy on map background pours his high-speed nonsense and suddenly…his tone changes to almost human. “Hey, do you see a fly here?”, – he asks two anchors at a counter. -” It messes with my hi-pressure front. Call somebody to get is out!”

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Sat.

Had BIG plans for today. Started right: ate healthy breakfast, went to hairdressers for a haircut, then to dry cleaning, then to gym.
And from that point on everything crumbled:
Body: in ruins. Energy: none. Patience: on a last leg. Desire to continue on a chore list: nil. Money spent in Century XXI on my way back from gym: $$$. That’s how demoralized I was. And now I have bunch of clothes to alter, too!
I don’t even want to eat. My back and legs hurt even when I simply stand straight! And I’m tiiiiiiired…

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Нынче ветрено и волны с перехлестом.
Скоро ЛЕТО, все изменится в округе!!!

Нет, правда, ветер ужасный, 23 мили/ч; облака бегут поверху как скажены, деревья скандалят ветками, а я иду в Salvation Army, сдавать сумищу с барахлом вычищеным из шкафов. Весна, свежо, и накатывает минутами Катеринино чувство: так и обхватила бы себя под коленками и взлетела б.

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A blogger sat in a Paris café with a glass of Loire Blanc, engaging in that oh-so-French people-watching. Is that me or you too notice that 80% of French men look distinctly gay?

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Snow. Снег.

Blank page.

At least I want to think that is it so.

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#20

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– is something I need to work on.
Over the weekend had a very distressing conversation with E and others. Wanted to discuss how we as a family can develop something of a plan B in case situation with Ebola leads to a crisis. Failed totally: was accused of espousing conspiracy theories, believing political hacks(!), of spreading panic, gullibility and downright idiocy, &&&. No matter what I said, no matter what examples I gave of disasters we personally lived through and how they were downplayed, covered up and misrepresented by the government and the media, and that survivors were people who relied on themselves, not on government – Chernobyl, 9/11, hurricane Sandy – I was laughed at and shouted dawn.

What to do and how to make them listen?

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Standing under…

…the shower (best place for deep philosophy  and self-analysis) caught myself on a thought: I avoid telling, even to myself, how happy I am right now. Out of banal superstition, and after 4.5 years of negative false starts. So, to fight that demeaning notion, here it is, I said it.

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Substance

I haven’t smoked for…at least 20 years.

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Long day

1
Overslept. Got up at 7:15am instead of 6:30. Too hurried for pics to illustrate my morning routine; an egg, toast, two clementines and coffee for breakfast and I’m out the door.
2
Snow! First one in season; luckily I don’t have to go back up for umbrella, happen to have it in the bag. Boots, however, are not made for snow, what with the thin leather sole and “kitten” heels… Slipping, running, hopping – somehow got to the subway, all under cutting wind and white stuff slapping me in the face.

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Тьфу-тьфу

ОК, если упала вилка/ложка – надо ожидать визита женщины, если нож – мужчины, а если у кого-то руки-крюки, и уронено ситечко из эспрессо-машины – да так, что спитый кофе разнёсся по всей кухне, снизу доверху? Какой монстр ко мне нагрянет?

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