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Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Me, the Flu and a Disgusting potion

The worst thing that can happen to you is to know that you’re going on a trip and start feeling the symptoms of an awakening cold, creeping out from your nose to the outer world, ready to throw you on a permanent bed rest.

Today I woke up with that feeling.

I couldn’t differentiate the cold from an allergy, so I didn’t know if my trip to London was going to be pestered with tissue paper and decongestives, or if I only needed a couple of hours for the morning allergy to pass its usual course.

Reluctantly, I started to prepare my husband’s usual concoction when in suspicion of a cold.

Unenthusiastically I took a Thera-Flu with honey, a pill of Centrum and a glass of orange juice; all this without my usual morning coffee… yuck!

At first I didn’t feel anything, but after a while, somewhere up inside the “mucusy” caverns of my cranium, I thought I felt my sinuses throw their hands up into the air and admit defeat.

I can be really persistent when I want something (or don’t want it); big surprise when the cold decided to recede to its usual hibernation mode and allow me for a 10 days vacation without the torments of a runny nose and constant headaches.

Who’s your mummy now? B-I-A-T-C-H!

Monday, June 14, 2010

The "Inactivity" individual vs the Vamp Woman

Sunday was my first relaxing day after 2 weeks of non-stop activity.

It was a rainy day and my husband decided to invite me to a Yankees game, however, I found the perfect excuse and showed my generosity by offering my spot to my brother-in-law who’s here on vacations (I’m such a considerate person!); so I gratefully stayed while they went along to the stadium, hammering rain and all.

I mean, I love to do stuff with my hubby, but let’s face it; I’m not such an outdoors type of person and for me, the most appealing thing to do (ever) is to be wrapped like a blanket-burrito with the A/C in full blast and a movie playing in my computer.

At one point, my eyes where getting tired and I threw myself (gracefully positioned, doesn’t fit my profile) over the sofa and let my legs dangle over the arm, the position on which nature intended music to be listened to, and I played my favourite artists on my iPod.
Slow music on a rainy day has to be considered the most remedial treatment to be invented by mankind: it’s free, it doesn’t involve drugs (prescription type people!) and you get to do it at home.

By 5 pm, I was a new and improved person, my mood was back on superior mode, I had tons of energy (whoever said that endorphins only get produced while exercising never tried my inactivity therapy) and on top of all that, I had the free time to continue reading my books.

The down size of all this laying around is that once you get back to a fast paced routine, your body requires extra time to accommodate to the new hysteria around you; so today I was feeling dizzy just by driving in my car towards the office.

While the city, traffic jams, people, cars, stop-lights and chaos unravelled around me, I made a mental note to find out if bright colors can cause nausea…

With a sudden realization, it hit me: I become a “vamp” during these therapeutic processes.

I continue to live among common people without the need to feed on blood (rather on coffee and cheese cake) and the sensibility to light and noise and chaos, for the next two hours or so, until I’m back to my normal self: still an inactivity lover; but grateful for summer and vivid colors.

Regards from your recovered "Forks" girl, who’s not a vampire, rather a quiet-type-of-Sunday individual.

Friday, June 11, 2010

Monday… Tuesday… Thursday… Wednesday… Friday… Sunday… Saturday

Don’t take The Godfather as the Bible; it DOES matter what day of the week is.
Today started as a regular Friday: getting up earlier than usual to avoid all the vacationers that leave town in the weekends and decide to use their cars only in that particular day.

I didn’t have my lunch ready so I grabbed a yogurt and a fruit for the whole day (I started to see little bright lights in the screen near midday); all for the sake of leaving Manhattan with the first commuters that understand the precious time and patience that one wastes on a traffic jam.

However, twenty psychos decided to collide head-on with each other and packed the highway with tow-trucks, police cars and imbeciles that have enough free time to stand there and watch while the destroyed vehicles are being towed away.

A four-lane highway reduced to a one-lane street translates as the wonderful idea to fit the ocean in a fishbowl... impossible.

If it takes me 75 minutes to get to work every day, today I drove for 180 minute at an ant-paced velocity, with my mood decreasing every two seconds.

While I was standing in this 6 miles long lane waiting for my turn to finally be free of the traffic jam, I made a note of all the unuseful quotes that The Godfather has to offer:

- “monday tuesday thursday wednesday friday sunday Saturday”: can you please explain to the guy that Monday and Friday are not the same?? Jeez!!

- “Leave the gun. Take the cannoli”: Give me the gun! I want to shoot something!!... Leave the cannoli, I don’t get hungry when in “assassination mode”.

- “I make him an offer he won't refuse”: I wouldn’t stay in a traffic jam no more than five minutes, doesn’t matter what you could offer, my patience wouldn’t take it.

- “Go to the mattresses”: What is a mattress has to do with anything? The mattress makes me sleepy, no fighting when I’m sleepy.

No wonder men don’t have a clue about anything. For them, The Godfather is their Bible, they abide by its rules as if God himself wrote the script.

One thing I do agree with The Godfather is: .. "your business is a little....dangerous”.

Yes it is!
Not an easy task to be a Working commuting housewife with no tolerance for anything other than silence.


I hear you… I’m still hearing you… Mum’s the word.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

The usual shpeel from me to you

You assume that with my uninterrupted pause over my writing since last week, that I had the most boring week ever… as usual, you assume wrong.

First of all, I went from being in a job for no more than 9 days to having a promotion in no more than 2 months… you heard it people: I’m a big top shot business woman; and as my brother –in-law put it: I will not stop until I’m in the Forbes list as one of the most influential women in the world (or in my house if it’s more doable... I know when to compromise).

Then I received my mother’s visit.

We don’t have one of those typical "mother and daughter" type of relations. We don’t see each other very often because of our different living locations and when we do see each other is usually to try and NOT to kill each other in the process (mainly me killing her) and have a good time with the remaining time left between the greeting and the killing part.

I’ll be honest though, this time the wind was blowing exactly right and we actually managed to have a good time (I can see the surprised faces of my sisters now, almost spraining their faces while reading this) so no blood or murder-type confessions to make.

My routine is pretty much the same. I won’t bore you with my commuting time, assassination impulses, ranting episodes or deprived sleep behaviour… as I told you since the beginning of the post: this is my usual delivery from your perfectly balanced and sane employed, housewife, to my dear reader who after Facebook, emails, BB and WhatsApp, manages to save time and read my incoherent thoughts.

Well, I can always give you my Crayola so you can paint your world and make it interesting and pretty… However, my world is going to get the looks of its owner, so go get your own blog!

PS: If you’re planning for a night out to laugh your guts out in the Big Apple, don’t miss Cirque Du Soleil’s Banana Shpeel… not your usual Cirque, nor your usual theatre event either, rather a mixture of a stand up comedy and clowns… or better yet: a stand up comedy for clowns! (No… not you).


Banana Shpeel: www.CirqueDuSoleil.com/BananaShpeel

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Who’s right in a married couple’s discussion?

Thanks to my love for Lady Gaga and her incredible songs, I’ve mastered the difficult art of a perfect poker face.

With this incredible attribute I get to maintain a cool composure even though I’m picturing murdering feelings inside my head… and let me tell you, they’re vivid as hell!

Most of the time, these feelings are directed towards impertinent individuals that disturb my gazelle-like travel through life…

Like the lady standing in line in front of me at the supermarket who can’t find his wallet in her over sized purse; or the taxi that stops in the middle of the street to aid a hailing customer; or to our doorman, when he sees me, heavy with groceries, and walks at the pace of a snail towards me to open the door… pretty much everybody in my social and working life has been honoured with my bright imagination; however, in my personal life (being my husband and our dog) the impulse of assassination it’s not frequent - I think my mind gets tired with the over worked daily routine – at least, not enough to arouse suspicions of my interlocutors (namely my husband).

Every time we have a difference of opinion and are trying to get in sync, I think about calming and soothing things to control my building rage.

I mean, how is it possible that he can’t see the things as perfectly and clearly as I see them?

For me it’s obvious that I’m ALWAYS right and in those rare occasions that he gets to have the correct assessment, I prefer to drop dead on the spot rather than to give him the benefit of righteousness.

However, if you’re planning on a happy and long married life together with your hubby, it’s inhumanly possible for them to accept your truth every time; so even though you know you’re right, you’ve to bend a little and give him the winning hand… just for their sake of course.

This doesn’t mean that you can’t rebel about it.

I always use my household tasks as a payback.

When I’m folding his clothes, I make a perfect mess to improve wrinkling, or I put the dirty pillow cover in his side, or I let our dog walk over his pyjamas and then I fold them neatly in his drawer, or I use his shaving machine for my underarms… not that he’s ever going to notice… well, maybe now that I’m confessing in my blog he would be more aware of this little details.

Nonetheless, there has to be a reward for being so unselfish and offer them the precious gift of the last word in a discussion: Yes, Honey!!

Greetings form a non-murdering feelings individual, with the purest heart ever!!