Food for thought

I wonder if the prehistoric man wiped his nose. It is a question that has been bothering me for days now. I don't even know how that started. Must've been a random thought that grew out of control.
It is a valid question, though. .... I think.
I look at people today and every time even the slightest drop of liquid tries to leave their nose and the napkin, handkerchief or whatever comes to hand is used to wipe it. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule and those people make me wonder. Did the prehistoric man think to wipe his nose or did he let all that snot run down his face, posibly even swallow some of it, by mistake or intentionally, after deciding it is quite delicious.
If they wiped their noses, what exactly did they use? Leaves? Tree bark? Animal skins?  Dirt? Their hands, like some more civilized people do nowadays? Anything is possible.
I am afraid to imagine what they did when they caught a cold.  Besides occasionally dying for lack of medical treatment. What did their faces look like with all that gooey stuff all over their beard ( they did have actively growing hair on their faces, being prehistoric and all),  on their chest ( also covered in hair), on their hands ( do I need to say it? ... HAIR).
I hate my imagination so much sometimes. Why can't it leave me alone? Wahy can't I be dumb so I can not care about stupid things like wiping my nose?

Did I mention, there's graphic content in the text? No? Sorry. I thought i did. Big sorry.

Silence is golden

 

I don’t get why some people feel the need  to talk. I mean, they are afraid to allow a single second of their lives without talking about something or the other. I know people who can talk for hours, about various things, about the same thing over and over. It doesn’t matter what about. The important fact is that they do not shut up. As is they are afraid of silence.  

I don’t think silence is anything bad. On the contrary. I could live for days without talking to anyone. I would just mind my business in peace and I will be okay at the end of the day. Or week. Or month. It doesn't mean I am upset with someone if I don’t talk when they talk to me. It only means I don’t feel like talking.

My mom always gets mad at me when she wants me to tell her how my day was, for example, and I mumble something then go do something else. It doesn't matter if it was a good day or a bad one, if you do not feel like talking there is nothing anyone can do to make you talk. Mom is one of those people who can talk for hours.

It happens, on lucky days, to be able to hide away from the world, working in the garden or just taking a walk up the hills, when the only time I would speak is meeting one of my cats or the ducks. Or just speaking to a plant I especially like. A word or two. I know how it sounds. Lonely. Pathetic. Stupid, maybe? Don’t think so. I am well aware they will not answer and me talking to them means nothing else but giving my thought a voice. For one moment. Then back to silence. To listening to the world around you while your brain is a stormy sea, each wave a thought, bigger and stronger with every second you spend on each of them.

There are two types of silence for me. One, if you’re lucky enough to ever get to that stage, is when your mind is clear and you can just enjoy being. The other is when you want to be alone with your thoughts, when you need to think things through and do some cleaning in your head. There’s a lot of dust piling up during a day.

Of course I like taking to people. Certain people. There are times when you can ask me anything and I will talk and talk without restriction. For about half an hour or so. Unless I really , really enjoy the other person’s company. However, I find more pleasure in listening to other people and if I have an opinion I might speak out, I might also keep it to myself. Because I value my silence more.

There is so little peace in our lives nowadays.

Stream of consciousness (1)

I had so many things on my mind this week I simply cannot list them all. Every time I saw something a new thought was born, a new thought that would eat away at my brain until a newer thought came along and replaced the now old thought. It is exhausting sometimes. It keeps me up at night. Literally. I cannot sleep properly. Someone I know, she teaches biology, says it is because of the unusual weather at this time of the year, that our bodies suffer because nature is not healthy. I am not the only one with insomnia, it seems but I think the causes for my problem run deeper than just a poor adjustment to weather fluctuations. I also know people who are just fine because they don’t spend that much energy on thinking. They just do things, let the animal part of our being run the show and all they are concerned with is food, shelter and reproduction. That is why they are happy. Because they don’t need much to be happy. Whereas, us over-thinking people always need more, always have to overcomplicate things that are in fact very simple.

Humans experience all sorts of emotions in a lifetime, depending on the type of life they are leading. Some people will never know what love is, what being alone feels like, what having a family is like, what hunger is, what having too much looks like. A simple mind will never thing about those things they don’t have because they have no idea how life is with those things. And they will be happy. Of sorts. There are , however, those people who will always wonder what would it be like if the situation were different, if they had this or that thing, if they lived here or there, if they  knew him or her, even if they never had any of it.

All this begs the question: why the hell do we want more that we can carry? Why the need to be more than what you already are? Why can’t we just be contend with the little we got (a little that for some is quite a lot) and be happy already? And, if we are in the existential questions category, why are we so unhappy when all the so called improvements to our way of living are supposed to make our lives better instead of more miserable with every passing day?

Of course I want more. Who doesn’t? More clothes, more desert, more friends, more love, more everything.  I want it. You want it. Everyone wants it. Can’t have it. It is my firm belief, if we had everything, we would immediately find something to want, to be ahead of the person next to us, to be better.

The sad part is that all we want is palpable things. We don’t want stuff we cannot see. What use is knowledge if you cannot display it in a golden case? What good will intelligence and a rich imagination do if we cannot sell it; show it off somehow for everyone to marvel at?

You know what? I want things I cannot touch. I want information. It will not help me much to know what a person I haven’t talked to in a while is doing. It will not change the course of my life, it will not kill the virus I am fighting, but I still want to know. I want to know they are okay, they are happy, they are where they want to be and they have everything they need. That knowledge would make me happy, even if for just a second. Have you noticed that when you are sad and you find out someone you care about is okay, somehow things seem better all of a sudden? I feel sorry for those who are happy when they learn someone is in trouble. They say things like “I am glad I am not the only one who is miserable.” I have done it a few times and I feel sorry for myself for needing that to make myself feel better. As if it ever helps. When I cross the street, I sometimes wait until there is someone else crossing with me because, is a car speeds by it will hit us both/all. Stupid, right? Don’t know why I am doing it but I do it almost every time I need to cross a street. Almost.

 

Thinking too much can hurt, I think.

That is why so many just don’t. That is why those people will live longer than over-thinkers. Because they are not in pain all the time, because their dreams are simple; because their sleep is not disturbed by endless hours of thinking about how to make the world a better place, for themselves and fro those around.

Even if I know I will die in pain, I don’t want to be a mindless robot without any real expectations beyond food, shelter and procreation. Maybe I am wrong, maybe those three things are the only things that matter. Maybe that is why all the cultures of the ancient world, after creating so many wonderful things, died. Maybe it is better to be stupid.

 

Some thoughts about loss.

Losing someone always hurts.

It hurts the mother when her little girls grow up and don’t need you anymore. There is a sense of pride in that, they can take care of themselves now but it hurts all the same because they are no longer your little girls.  It hurts when your baby leaves the nest, ready to fly the dangerous winds of life on her own.

Losing someone you love (keep in mind, there are many types of love) hurts because you lose a part of yourself, however small, because once you had that part, without it life will never be the same. You cry like an idiot, you hope like an idiot, as you watch the thing you love die in front of you. You are powerless to stop Nature. Nature cannot be stopped. Nature can sometimes be prevented.

Our addiction to other human beings is deadly. Our addiction to companionship of any kind is toxic. It drives you insane; it eats you from inside out. It makes no sense. We are very capable of doing everything by ourselves yet we insist on having someone to help us.

Losing something you never had hurts even more because whatever you will do, you will never have that thing.

Loss is inevitable. It is the way of Nature. People come and go. We are careless.

Loss, even for a short while, hurts.

Think about it before you take anything for granted. Or not.

New season/at the doctor’s

At the beginning of February an old fever of mine started to burn. Cross stitching. I love it , I just don’t have much time nor an excuse to spend hours hunched back over a piece of canvas, a needle and a lot of colored threads. I found the perfect excuse in making tokens for March 1^st.  This country of mine has this custom on the first day of March to give small tokens (broaches, but mostly useless plastic or metal or cloth tokens) accompanied by a red and white tread that is tied in a bow. ( I have the feeling I have mentioned it once before, not long ago.) On March 8^th, when it’s the International Day of Women, or something like that, at school and everywhere women get gifts in the form of flowers, chocolates, whatever. I dread these days. I dreaded them when I was little when I had to give my teachers tokens and gifts, I dread it now when there are chances to get one, the other or both. I simply dread going to school because I know there is a chance I will get into one of these awkward situation where I will hove no idea how to respond. I am good at faking emotion and surprise, but behind all those smiles  there is only dismay and horror. My mind screams HELP ME!!!! from all my being. Luckily, the custom is fading in our parts, but not entirely so the danger still exists. I cannot help but feel uncomfortable in such situations.

I know, I know. Am I crazy? Free stuff. How can I not be happy about it? My mom tells me all the time. She if of the opinion that if someone choses to give you something for free you must take it. I suppose she is right and I try to think like her when it happens but it doesn’t make it any easier.

I distributed handmade tokens myself today. I made them. Put my soul into them and gave them a value beyond commercial. (though I am perfectly capable of selling them because I do a pretty good job, I might add)

Today was easy. Little awkwardness because, in recent years, the custom to give boys/men tokens on march 1^st grew strong. I only gave to my teachers  (who are now, strangely enough, my co-workers) to the headmistresses and everyone I consider friend, more or less (the definition of friend is a tad different with me)

 I fear the next Tuesday when its march 8^th. I just don’t want to think about it.

**
Because I have been feeling this unpleasant, not too powerful but recurring pain inside my left ear I decided to visit the school nurse and ask her about it. She said it could be an infection and that I should pay my doctor a visit. So I did, after I finished classes at three. The waiting room had a few people in it, among them an old lady, a mother and her son, man and two little girls or around 6, a boy from 12^th grade and some other people that came and went. My hope was to get out of there by 4 because I wanted to catch the bus home. The next would come at 7 in the evening, after me waiting for hours in the station.

Anyway, I went in, I sat down and , to pass the time, because I get bored very easily, I started reading a book on my phone. Olivia Munn’s SUCK IT, WONDER WOMAN! is the title. Fun book to read .  during the chapter about the robot invasion I had to stop reading because I was starting to lough to loudly and soon I would draw unwanted attention. They others were still recovering from listening to one of those girl’s screams of agony and despair and her declaration, upon exiting the doctor’s office, to never come back again. They gave her a vaccine with a small needle that doesn’t hurt a bit. We cannot mess with the power of a little girl’s fear, however. Never. Ever.

The 12^th grade boy left at one point because everyone was going in before him, even those that came after. I supposes he was trying to be polite a few times and let a lady go in first but the situation must’ve gotten over his head because he seemed rather upset when he left. And he was right. When you go to a doctor in a small town like this be prepared to wait forever because there are some people who think they must go first even if there is a dying man waiting to be admitted. The category consists mainly of old ladies who are supposedly so tired and sick they cannot possibly wait a few minutes, officials from the town hall that are too important to wait, and gypsies who, if you do not give them priority in everything, start yelling they are being discriminated and play the victim card. That is why I missed my 4 o’clock bus. That and the fact that the doctor takes too much time with explanations no one really understands.

Also at the doctor’s, a woman came in at one point and after a few minutes with talking with everyone else she turned to me – I like to stay outside people’ s line of sight to avoid such encounters – and said “ Ah, Stella! I almost didn’t recognize you.” (Which is funny because I haven’t changed much in the last 14 years of my life. ) She said she had heard I am working at school now, asked me how that is. How I am. What I’ve been doing. I answered, politely, to all her questions, smiled and everything, all the while wondering who the hell was she. I don’t remember my highschool mates that well by name but I think I would remember a face. Perhaps I met her in a different capacity, I just have no idea. Happens all the time with me , for people to talk to me as if they know me and for  me to pretend that I know them, but sometimes it’s just downright annoying.

Never mind that. It happens, we move on, hope to never meet again that person.

At 4.30 I finally got my face to face with the doctor. He used that thingy to look inside my ear, decided it is an infection and gave me a prescription. I left, bought a few things from the grocery/bakery then went to the bus station fully aware it was gonna take a while until I would get home. And it did take a while. Luckily, the bus station is right across the street from a restaurant with Wi-Fi. I have the password from a girl I know and I was able to not be bored by the waiting. Much.

 I almost forgot about the date and about what is coming. Which is good. Too much stress.

Gotta go to the pharmacy tomorrow to get my prescription because by the time I left the doctor’s  all two pharmacies in our town were long closed. Because no one needs medicine after 4 p.m. in this town.

Truth is, everything sucks sometimes.

 

A day off

I was awake long before the alarm rang. Thinking about stuff. Also with a sharp pain in my left side. I have a terrible bed and that happens from time to time. I sort of fix the problem by putting a small pillow under my lower back. It straightens the spine and I feel better. Don’t fall back asleep though. I just can’t. once I am fully awake it is very hard to. I think about things. Sometimes just let the mind wonder on its own and I am surprised to see where it goes. I try to form a series thought: how to distribute time for the day’s tasks. They are not many and are pretty simple. Plenty of tome to do absolutely nothing in between them. I think about how the postman brought the TV-guide I am subscribed to school and they lost it. Not that I use it that much. But I did not like to ask them for it. Especially when I see their puzzled looks. What am I talking about? Or the leave-me-alone-, -I- have-more-important-things-to-do-than-keep-track-of-your-things look. I had an arrangement with the postman. He leaves the magazine at the post office, when it arrives on Wednesday, and I go pick it up on Friday. Simple as that.

Because it is Monday morning, a car drives up the road at 6.25 then down five minutes later. Don’t know why, I am assuming to pick somebody up. Or something. Anyway, it is like clockwork – every Monday, same hour.

Then an alarm clock rings and my sister turns on the TV at 6.30.  My alarm is supposed to ring at 6. 45. Who cares? I lazily rise from the bed. Sit on the edge for a few minutes. Eyes closed, half closed, almost wide open. No hurry. It is funny that after waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to g back to sleep, five minutes before you have to wake up your body suddenly decides it is a good idea to start wanting to sleep. Happens every time. Not much we can do about it.

Soon, I hurry a lot because I have got a bus to catch. Big day today. I moved my classes to Thursday so I can have a full free day. And not see anyone I don’t want to see. Which is pretty much everybody I know. it is my day and I want to spend it the way I like it. Free of everyone. Only happens once a year. Am I asking for too much? … thought so.

In any case, the plan is the following: go to the city, go to depot outside town to check out building materials for repairing roof, find at said depot interesting plants and take them with you, or just seeds, go shopping in supermarket no. 1 and leave the bags in one of the luggage boxes so I don’t have to carry them with me all over town (they are heavy), go to supermarket no. 2 and 3, and return with luggage to no. 1 then go back to wandering the town for other things on the list. In the end, return in the vicinity of no. 1 and go to the dentist. Hurray!! Day is almost over, can go home now.

Did all those things, in that order. It was very wearisome. All worth it.

Did I mention it is my b-day?  Well, it was, on the day of the trip. Did I mention I wanted to not see anyone on that day? I didn’t. sort of. In no. 1 I met a former student. She finished highschool last year. She was in my favorite class ever. There will be no other groups of people I will like more. I was in the gardening section looking at some plants. Didn’t see her. She saw me. Otherwise I would have never seen her . I am so careless sometimes. All the time. It was nice to see her, especially because she had no idea about the b-day thing. I do keep it a secret. Oh got, it would’ve been so awkward for me. She would have had to tell me happy b-day and I would have had to say something in return. Like it happened today. It feels so wrong. Don’t know why, I am just wired that way. It was a nice surprise. She said it herself, the next day, when she learned the secret. I may have released the date on fb. Hence the influx of “Happy b-days” during the day. (Mom is my friend on fb and she followed the event from home. She was more excited about it than I was, I think. Oohh, all those people wishing me stuff.. such an important event. (sounded very mean in my head, don't know if I sent that in writing as well) ) That is why the secret was no longer a secret but at least I didn’t have to interact directly with any of them. Naturally, I thanked everyone – it was like a duty that needed to be done a.s.a.p. I get this problem with all my social networks interactions. If someone comments, I need to answer somehow. It is a duty. It is common sense. It is being polite.

Listening to Sia right now. My sis’s has her playing. Not really helping with my writing.

Anyway…

Remember when I said I really want a Ficus Benjamina? I was hoping to find one on my trip. Hope dies last. You also know how things never go according to plan and instead of a Benjamina you end us buying an exquisite Phalenopsis orchid. They were just sitting there, winking at me with those eyes of them. I just couldn’t resist. I have had orchids before and I love them. Now I wonder if I should give up my idea of the second ficus. It does take up a lot of space which I do not have. Then again, many of my plants take up a lot of space I do not have.

 

I was mighty glad to talk to an old college mate of mine. Also via fb. (I suppose it is good for something after all, it is just poorly used by limited people) Haven’t seen her in five years. I would not have wanted to see her face to face because that entails many touchy-feely formalities and I was never like that. Everybody knows it. I just don’t know how to respond, that is all.

First and eight of march is coming up so, naturally, the market and all shops were full of spring tokens. Those little objects with a red and white string tied in a bow. I made some myself this year, in needlepoint. Will give to some of my co-workers, bosses. I rarely do things like this and it felt stupid to buy stupid looking tokens when I am perfectly capable to make amazing ones. From my point of view , anyway.

I walked a lot on Monday. The dentist’s appointment was at 4 in the afternoon and I walked from 8.30 am to 3.45 pm. With those brief ten minutes at the depot when I got something to eat and sat down at the table. Those people have really good food. That chicken schnitzel with cabbage salad was amazing. And it kept my hunger at bay all day because, like an idiot, I forgot to eat before going in at the dentist even if I knew I would not be allowed to eat for two hours after she finished with me. (some drilling into a pair of teeth that need to be covered with fake teeth. First, she has to clean the dead parts and it will take a while to do that right. No matter, I don’t know why but I love it. The drilling is a bit unpleasant because it shakes everything in your head but…)

I spent half an hour before the bus came reading and interesting story by E. Caldwell. Rachel. Did not see that ending coming.

##

Every year it gets stranger and stranger to me, this day.

The other day, one of my former teachers, now co-worker, asked me ho old I am. I told her I will be 29 soon and she said it is a beautiful age, that I am still young and it is nice.

The problem is, I do not feel young. I never have. There was a time when I was young, when my body was, at any rate. My mind, however, rarely felt it.

I don’t know why. It just doesn't. I do not claim superior wisdom from an early age. Heaven knows, I am yet to achieve that, if ever, but I never felt the same like my classmates in school. I was never attracted to things that should attract a young mind.

I was never young to begin with...

Sounds terribly depressing , doesn’t it?

Well, it is. To some extent. I don’t see why we celebrate the passing of another year of our existence. It is only one step closer to our death, not that people should think about this very often, and a reminder that another year has passed without doing something meaningful with our lives.

I have this neighbor, former classmate of mine, whose father is obsessed about having a lot of animals. And by animals I do not mean a few chicken but lots of cows, pigs and a useless horse. She has to do all the work with those animals, feed them, clean the stalls, give them water, and between these activities must also cook a thousand courses a day because eating the same thing twice in  the same day will kill you. She tells me all this , every single day. One can say we are the only people she can talk to openly about it, to unload a day’s worth of misery. Then, like clockwork, every year in July she celebrates her b-day inviting most of the neighbors and some members of the family from the village. I am not sure how much this occasion makes her happy but she will never not celebrate and I do not understand why.

I have stopped marking this day publicly along time ago and the less people know about it, the better. I am not sure my former classmate remembers the date. She would have said something. I am terribly fortunate this year that I won’t have to meet anyone who might know. All the people I met on Monday were either strangers or ones that had no idea.

I bought a few cakes to share with my mom and my sister when I got home. And a bottle of sangria - a compromise for not finding my favorite wine. I don't know what is happening but I am unable to find it for months. it is beginning to get on my nerves, this situation. So this is how I celebrated. it was enough. Moving on.

Working at a school, I get to meet a lot of young humans and it has been a great opportunity to observe them , to learn things about what it is like to be young like them. It frightens me at times when I realize I was never like that. What I am is really good at pretending to be something I am not. It is the only way to survive in my world. For now, anyway. Times change. We must evolve with them and that is not easy for someone who would prefer to turn back time to an age where things were …. I don’t know  what to say here.  I was going to say ‘easier’ but things were never easy. In the world of humans, things are never simple. If they turn out to be simple, humans will make sure they will not be for long.

 On the other hand, the same working with people has given me an opportunity to learn to be a better member of the society, to learn to behave, to be, to interact with other people. I think... not sure it produces many results because there are very few people in this world I like and admire. Very, very few. 

My phone battery was almost dying when I got on the bus so I put on my headphones and let Loreena McKennit drive my imagination to wherever it wanted to go. I was awake the whole ride, to my surprise. I was holding the orchid in my arms because I didn't want it to fall and get hurt. As the bus came out of town, on top of a hill ,I saw the moon and I remembered it was full today. I watched it all the way thinking the were-creatures would be out and about if they existed.

Then I fell asleep almost immediately after I got into bed, a few hours later, after watching The Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, which only reminded me humans are horrible. They can be good too, however, so there is some hope.
 

Randomness

I went to the county capital a few days ago with my mom. She was going to go alone because she felt it was time to visit her favorite hairdresser for a trim and a curl or two. I was gonna go later in the week because I needed to pay the internet and phone bill. I know what you’re thinking, I can do that online. Yes, I could. But I don’t want to. It is one of my excuses to go to the city once in a while. It is bad enough that I started ordering plants online. In my defense, most of those bulbs cannot be found in a regular shop. Nor can the seeds. I do a lot on online shopping for plants but when I need a pot, a saucer or hope to find that ficus Benjamina I want, I need to go myself, to touch the pots, to feel them, to talk to the old lady selling her interesting plants at the market and ask her about them , about  what they need to thrive. There’s a feeling of assurance when you learn things directly from a person who experienced them  first-hand.

In the end, I asked mom to take me with her, like old times. When I was little , she had to go to the city many times because her work at school required it. I would sometimes beg to be dragged with her, I would patiently wait until she finished the important stuff then we went shopping. The best memory, though, was getting up early in the morning, at 4.30 to catch the 5.00 bus (hated it then, I hate it now), going on the smelly bus and stopping a few dozen meters away from a pastry shop. It was about 6 when we arrived, the place was just opening and the still steaming sweet cheese pie and the whipped yoghurt simply melted in my mouth. It has been years since I had one of those dream breakfasts. Unfortunately, the place is now closed. The building abandoned.

While mom went to the hairdresser,  I went to a store outside town to get a ceramic pot, in the shape of a somewhat large coffee cup, I had seen the week before and could not stop thinking about it. I know exactly what I will plant in it. Then, I wondered the market until I found the perfect cloth for kitchen curtains. I have been looking for that for a long, long time. Cannot wait to start cutting and sewing. All handmade, the way I like things.

Waiting for the bus, I remembered the old times when there were only three of four busses that ran towards home in a day. Because they were rare,  and people seemed to rely more on them in the past, on account of not having cars, it was an adventure to get a good seat in that bus. And by good seat I mean any seat at all. People crowded at the door and tried to get all at the same time inside, carrying  huge bags of shopping. Mom always told me to keep close but I would always get lost in the crowd because people don’t really care a child could get squished between them as long as they get a spot on the bus, be it standing or seating. After the big battle, mom came to get me and everything was fine. We stood all the way to or from the city many times, though. Because the busses were already full when it came into the station. Ahhh. Good times. I survived them. Didn’t make me like humans any more than I already don’t.

If I could, I would choose to live in a remote area where your closest neighbor is at least a few kilometers away from your house. Perhaps I have had a bad experience with people so far. It is rather far fetched, though, because that would mean all people are bad and I refuse to believe that.  I know it is not true because I have met a few that are really, really nice. I don’t particularly want to spend much time with them , however, because I would not know how to behave properly around them. I think. I like the thought that they exist, that hope lives on in spite of the mean world I am looking at right now. The same mean world that made that pastry shop go out of business. The same mean world that thinks a cat trapped in a store for two weeks,  is a funny thing (like the news I saw the other day on TV). There is nothing funny about dying of starvation. Why don’t they try it, for a change?
I can’t do that unfortunately. I have to share fences with horrible people who do  not  even speak to us. There isn’t much I can say about tit without turning to profanity. I don’t use profane words, ever. I replace them with regular words and use the tone for swearing. I just cannot bring myself to use such words. Don’t know why. There was a time when I did. I was little, I was a feisty little thing and then, who knows when, everything changed. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I suppose I cannot do or say something to someone I do not want done or said to me by someone else. It is a very good rule. Too few people  follow it.

I digress. A lot.

When I came home, on that day, do not recall the exact circumstances, I remembered someone I know saying how cute her sister’s kids are. And I wondered. How can people find children cute? I cannot stand looking at them, I hate it when they touch me, I hate it even more when they are trying to be affectionate. It is said they can feel one’s love. Why can’t they tell I do not want anything to do with them? I would much rather pet a dirty old duck.

I don’t mind people as long as they keep a safe distance.

With that in mind, I look forwards to my next visit into town. They have been building all sorts of useful places in my hometown, like the much needed proper vet's office or the recently opened plants' pharmacy but nothing compared to a visit to the big town where I can find almost everything I want /need. That is why I look forward to my next visit on Monday. a lot of plant related shopping and a visit to the dentist that I am actually excited about.

An Adventure Story

A while ago, I don’t know, maybe two or three weeks ago, one of the roosters had something sticky stuck to his feathers and the only way to remove it without hurting the bird was to cut  the feathers. Easy enough. Because it was cold, I put on my multi-purpose coat I always wear when I have to do things outside , in winter, when I am home. I brought  out the scissors, cut the feathers, job’s done.  Put the scissors on a table outside because I had to do something and could not go in the house to return it to a safe place so we can find it easily the next time we need it. End of story.

Sometime later, because of an event at school, I had to go to the city and refill my laser printer cartridge. The last time I had done that was at the end of May 2015, and , as things usually are, when you need something the most it will find a way to break or need refilling. The bus must've come a few minutes early because I had to wait an hour in the station until another bus came that only took me in the next town where I jumped into a car with the same destination as me. (there’s a lot of hitchhiking going on in my world. Worth talking about some other time.)

In town, because the guy at the shop wasn’t coming until noon to refill my cartridge, I went shopping. And I say a really nice Ficus Benjamina that I regret to this day not buying it. A few years back, when I was in college, I was in a supermarket when I saw a Benjamina and instantly fell in love with it. So deeply that I spent the last money I had on me to buy it, risking to get stranded in a strange city at night with no place to sleep.  It wasn’t expensive, the risk of not catching the bus home was higher. I loved that plant. However, I didn’t know at the time how to properly take care of it and, about a year and a half later, it died. I had always wanted a Ficus and now I have one, a Ficus Elastica, you know, the broad leaved, giant-growing type. However, ever since I saw that Benjamina I am determined the buy on in spring, of the first chance I get. I have learned a lot of things about plant growing since that unfortunate moment years ago.

Back to the actual story…

So, the event at school involved a lot of paper. Some of that paper needed to be cut into certain shapes and sizes. With a scissors. That I could not find. Before this school thing, I needed the scissors to cut open a few bags of pasta, some other ingredients for cooking, I looked for it, didn’t find it, resolve to using a knife. Cutting the papers the way I wanted, though, required a fine instrument made for just that. Definitely not a knife.

So I looked for the scissors. That day when I had put it on the table was long in the past. And it wasn’t there, as expected. Things rarely stay in the same place where you put them. Someone always comes and put them somewhere else. It is a universal rule. I assumed Mom took the scissors so she was the first person I asked where is it. She didn’t know. I looked all over the kitchen, maybe it was covered by something, maybe someone put it behind a flower pot or it fell on the floor and got swept under the couch. (Thing also have a tendency to disappear under furniture. Case-in-point, Mom’s hat. She bought it one day, she lost it the next, and we could not find in for a whole year. Can you guess where it was?) I looked in all the drawers in the house next. All of them, even in those I knew for sure in could not be. You know how it is when you lose something. Must look everywhere, including/especially in the place it could not possibly be, because a) you never put it there, b) it could not possibly fit in that place, c) because you remember one time putting it there but it may actually be a similar object or it happened several years ago, d) some other stupid reason to waste your time.

In the end I borrowed a pair of scissors from a kid at school and cut my papers the day before the event.

A few days later, I decided to spend my free time doing some cross stitching. I do that from time to time. It is calming. It keeps me from doing stupid things and it is also addictive because once I start I find it very difficult to stop. But I love it. Don’t know how other peoples do it, but in my world there is this custom that on March 1^st and 8^th of every year to offer people tokens that celebrate the coming of spring. There’s a big thing about this holiday. In the second half of February the markets and all shops are full of such tokens – basically, some good luck charm, tiny doll, a plastic flower that has attached to it a red and white string. (I will probably do an post on the subject when the time comes.)

Anyway, because I find the tokens they make nowadays quite tacky and totally ugly, and because I really love cross stitching , I decided to make my own small gifts. For that I needed a special type of cloth that needed to be cut into the needed shapes and sizes. And for that I need a pair of scissors.

That is why I started the search again. First I asked Mom,  then I looked through the same places as before even if I knew for sure this time I will not find it anywhere in them. Meantime, I found the bag of thread balls that I would need and decided to see what new colors should I buy. You can never have enough of them. That is where I found another scissors, a small one that was intended for nails (at least that is how it was sold in the shop) that I use for plants and sewing and that I had lost about a year ago and had given up the search. Problem solved.

I gave up on my scissors and decided to buy a new one and take better care of it in the future. Maybe install a tracking device on it , just in case.  In fact, I was in the shop yesterday and was thinking of buying one but I ended up getting a stapler. Not because I forgot or I didn’t have enough money. It was mostly because I didn’t want to open my mouth a third time and ask “Do you have scissors?”  Noooo. I talked a lot about the stapler and about finding the right kind of staples but not about the scissors. I thought, I’ll get one next time I come by.

In conclusion, I am the proud owner of a stapler that has the right type of stapes.

Yesterday evening, because it was cold I put on my coat and went to get some water from the well. Because it was cold I decided to put on gloves. Being a practical person at times (and because I find it easier to find them) I keep the gloves in one of the 5 pockets my wonder coat has. I usually put them in the same right side pocket but I deviate from time to time, that is why, last night when I decided to put them on , I searched both pockets at the same time. With the right hand I took out the pair of gloves, and with the left, what do you know? a pair of scissors I had never left on that table two or three weeks ago. My guess, just a memory from who knows when.  My sister asked “Do you ever use those pockets?”  I said no. It's the truth.

In retrospect, I was wearing the coat while I was looking for the scissors. For weeks, I wore that coat every day.

The lesson? Things just like to hide from you. And they laugh their hearts out because you are too stupid to find them.

Too much thinking

It is 6 a.m. and I am angry. Haven’t slept properly in two days. Some sort of headache and a touch of fever. And a lot of thoughts that won't give me peace. But mostly the headache.  Perhaps the cold has finally got me. Perhaps it is because I should spend more time outside in the fresh, albeit freezing, air. Could be something else entirely. I am thinking I should do more exercising. Do stuff that involves using many muscles. That is the fate of people who prefer thinking over moving. So I am angry because it is cold and I have to get out of bed when I finally started to relax. Took me forever to fall asleep last night. I am angry at the phone because it did exactly what I, in a moment of lucidity, programmed it to do. It forced me to leave the warmth of my covers, get dressed and leave the house hours before any rays of light from the sun showed their face in my corner of the planet.

Mom urges me to hurry because I will miss the bus. I know I won't because it is only 6.08 and the bus never, ever comes before 6.30 a.m.. But mom is the kind of person who thinks being on time means arriving half an hour early. The practice rubs on me so I get fearful sometimes. What if the bus will come earlier. Just to spite me. Today, of all days, when I have to be on time and there are no other busses to take me there by 8.30. My fear is that it was so cold over night the driver will not be able to start the bus and won’t come at all. Coming late is no problem. It is better than not at all.

I close the front gate behind me and trudge down the road. The bus station is almost half a kilometer from my house. I must first reach the main road, that is 250 meters ( I know the exact distance because there’s 50 meters between two electricity poles, and I pass by 5 of them). Once I reach the main road I am safe, I can signal the bus to stop if I haven't reached the station.

A little bit down the road I hear an engine in the distance. I look towards the bus station. I haven't reached the trees, I can still see all the way there. A vehicle that looks like a bus slows down close to the station. It is white. My heart starts to pound. What am I gonna do if I miss it? How am I gonna get there by 8.30? I start to run, all this time thinking the bus is always red so why am I running? This could be another car. But why has it stopped in the bus station? I try to keep my mouth closed while running. Too cold outside. I really like my voice just the way it is and certainly do not miss a sore throat. I run, even after the bus-looking vehicle speeds in front of me, no chance in hell of catching it. My mind starts to process. What to do? What to do? I will wait until something comes, anything, that will take me to my dentist’s appointment, 48 kilometers west of my town, in the county capital. Why couldn’t I have chosen someone closer? We have a dentist in our town. That easy. Or, there is one in a neighboring town....  Well, wouldn’t be me if I took the easy road. (The real reason is that I wanted quality and from what I heard from patients of our local dentist, she was not for me.) Anyway, I run, I reach the main road and I am relieved, there are some people in the bus station which means the bus is yet to come.

It is still night. Snowed a bit. Not enough to protect the plants in the garden from frost. I like it all the same. It looks good in the bus’ headlights. I love travelling in the dark. It brings back interesting memories. A few years back, when I had to commute 80 kilometers almost every day from one town to another, most of the return home trips happened at night. I sometimes stood in a bus full of people for the duration of the ride , two hours, but I had my headphones on and none of it mattered. I had listened to many hours of The Once and Future King and loved every moment of it. There is something about that book that is just too good to be able to describe.

This time the bus was full but I had a seat of my own. I don’t remember the last time I had to stand on a trip. People do not travel as much as they used to on public transportation. They either have cars of don’t have the money.

I like travelling at night because it opens up my mind. I usually take to time to work out plot details from my stories. Sometimes, my mind just wonders off, depending on the music I have.  Can’t wonder of too far with Adele’s album because I cannot relate a personal experience with any of the songs. You know how it is sometimes, lyrics aren't always important. If the music makes you feel good, that is all that matters.

In any case, I was looking at the road ahead  as soon as the bus left the areas with public illumination and plunged into the heavy darkness of night I wondered what would it be like if zombies suddenly appeared on the road. (Six seasons on The Walking Dead can do that to a highly imaginative person.)  I could almost see them  being hit by the bus. I hope the driver will be able to keep his cool and move on.

Then, without warning I am thinking of ordering some bulbs for spring as soon as they become available. I saw a few rare lilies on a website. I must have them.  I always think about that. I will not stop until I order some.

But what if we are run over by zombies? What then? What will happen to my cats? (I don’t recall seeing any cats on TWD. I wonder why. Have they all died? Are they in hiding?)

I arrive in town around 7.40. Have time to go to the market and buy some winter gloves, the kind you can work with in the cold. They said it was gonna snow this week. Not much, but it will. I have time to take a town bus to the dentist. She sees me at 8.15. Finish by 8.50. It feels weird to have something in your mouth after so many months of getting used to without it. But it is good. I will go back in the spring for more work. It is good to take care of your teeth.

It is snowing in town. Also, there is this killer wind. Not powerful, just freezing. I have to get back to the market and get mom some kitchen towels. She insisted. Said she’ll kill me if I don’t get her a few. Buy a few bathroom towels for me as well. Cannot hurt and I like what I see.

I look at my phone. The shopping list is short but not from this part of the town. Must go back the way I came from the dentist. To do that, I must take a town bus again. To get to the bus station I must walk through the flowers market and make a shocking discovery. All they have on display are funeral decorations. I am thinking: many people die during winter. ‘Cause it’s too darn cold.

 

The rest of the story is boring. The next bus home, the same with which I came, is heading back at 1 p.m.. It is only 10.00 a.am.. I can get warm wondering through three supermarkets near the bus station. I can go through the shopping list then just relax.

An hour and a half later I call mom to tell her I am bored to death and very tired of pushing the cart around the supermarket. I ask her if she wants something else. To give me purpose for another 5 minutes. Then it is back to boredom.

I discover toys can be creepy.

 

I remember I want new dust bins. New energy for me. Soon to go away when I discover I don’t like any of the ones I see on display. Perhaps they don’t make them the way I want them anymore. I give up. I know a place that has a much bigger offer but I will not go there until close to spring. That is when they bring bulbs and new plants for me to buy. I have many interesting cacti from there.

On the road back, poor Adele sings to no one because I fall asleep and don’t remember hearing a few of the songs. It is good, I guess. I always feel better after a nap on the bus. I notice it snowed some more during my absence and I take a few pictures of the road that takes me home. I do it now because I know I will be too lazy to walk all the way here for a picture then go back. Though I should, it is good for one’s body. And what can be better than a stroll during winter? The air could not be cleaner. Maybe later.

 

Change of date

What is New Year’s exactly if not just a change of date. One day is December, the next is January, one day is a year, the next another. If we were to celebrate every change of date like we celebrate the coming of New Year… I do not want to imagine that. In fact, I cannot. Knowing what a big fuss is just one day like this, having 365 of them is my idea o f hell. I still do not understand, however, why are humans so interested in this particular day of the year.

 In my world, there are a bunch of traditions that need to be kept otherwise you will fall into the pit of despair, solitude, starvation and bankruptcy. You have to  - no, you MUST have on you dinner  table all sorts of foods and drinks, pork, fish, wines and other alcoholic beverages, sweets, and let’s not forget money and grapes.

I know one of my neighbors is obsessed about having grapes on the New Year’s dinner table otherwise his head will explode or something. I am pretty sure I saw him yesterday in a shop I was in buying some. Also yesterday, I saw way too many people pushing each other at the single man that came with fruits at the market. Poor guy was overwhelmed. But people need oranges, bananas, apples, and whatnot so the new year catches them with plenty of everything. It doesn’t matter the rest of the year they have very little of everything, if they  have these things now all will be fine. And here’s a question that is bothering me. If they are so into having fruit on New Year’s, why not plant an apple tree in their garden, and a grape vine that can be kept for longer periods of time? And pears, and quinces, and plums. I understand they can’t have orange trees, that is okay, but the rest  are easy to take care of. One apple tree can give a small family fruit for the whole winter. I know ‘cause we are a small family and we have at least 2 mature apple trees and who knows how many young fruit bearing trees that live in our Eastern European climate.

And the foods. Oh my, the foods. Must definitely have certain types of foods otherwise you risk starvation in the next year. One of the things that is sort of traditional in our country is something called Beouf Salad, loosely translated Beef salad. I think it comes from French.  My mom is making it right now, on the first day of 2016, not three days before New Year’s Eve like the rest of the world. It is the easiest thing in the world to prepare, albeit it takes a lot of time. Basically, take a bunch of potatoes, carrots, a can of precooked peas if you can’t make your own, a lot of pickled peppers and cucumbers, whole olives, boiled eggs for their white, boiled meat – we use any bird meat because you would never catch us eat beef, not even with a shotgun to our head. This year she boiled a Muscovy Drake. We had a few and he was rather mean to the chicken so he had to go. Fear not, she did not boil it alive, or whole. Bits and pieces.  Anyway, you take these ingredients, potatoes, carrots, meat, pickles, chop them up really small, mix with the peas, make sure there is no juice left in the pickles and peas, then you mix with mayo, put in the olives as they are and place everything on a large plate where you try to give it the shape of a cake. Cover all this with more mayo if you have enough, then ornate with pickled red pepperoni, the white from the boiled eggs, olives, and, my favorite, parsley leaves. (still had some in the garden and I decided, a few days ago, to pick it even if it was mighty cold outside, I could not feel my hands and one of my cats was in the mood to play and started attacking me. The look of surprise and content on Mom’s face this morning when I brought her the bag of parsley was priceless. Then she made me wash it and all the joy faded. – have you ever washed curly-leaved parsley? Ain’t fun. But it looks wonderful.

In any case the salad is delicious. We only make it at special occasions, not because we don’t like it, but because it takes a century to make it. The decorating takes a few decades alone.  I suspect I will soon be called to do it. Or not. I am thinking of letting her and my sister do the job this year. They always make me do it. Sometimes I insist I do it. It is so confusing. J

I suppose I could talk for hours about foods made for New Year’s. The problem is that, except this salad, we don’t follow the norm that much. Yes, mom likes to cook things, but, then again she does that year round, always making something more. You’d think she wants to fatten us up or something.

The holidays traditions for us are rather off the books. Just the fact that she is making the salad today would be frowned upon. Lucky her, no one except  us knows the secret. Mostly because the winter holidays for us are a private affair. Just the three of us. Nice and quiet. Without interference from the loud world outside. There is enough noise the rest of the year. My sister and I have made a tradition of our own. Don’t know when or why it started but, on every New Year’s Eve we stop doing what we are doing around midday and go watch a movie of our choice. During this movie, we enjoy the delicious eggplant salad and open up a bottle of very sweet wine I buy a month ahead to make sure we have at least one bottle available. (This year was particularly difficult to find. It is also a bit expensive, but worth it.) (The eggplant salad if made from our garden, when the eggplants are ready, we cook them on the stove as they are, peel off the burnt crust them freeze them until we need them. After they thaw completely, let the sticky juice out then chop the eggplants into a fine paste. Peel a few onions, raw, chop them as fine as you can and throw them in the mix with oil and some salt. When we take a portion on the plate we mix it with mayo. Serve with plenty of bread. )

To be honest, New Year’s Eve for us is a day like any other. Chicken and ducks need feeding, warm water and fresh straw. The cats were particularly needy and we let them in the house for a few hours. (We don’t normally allow the cats inside because mom doesn’t like them and because they are naughty.) The dog needs feeding; the coops need cleaning. Those sorts of things that need to be done every day of the year, with few variations depending on the season. However, we have these little traditions make the day a bit different. After all chores are done, we have another movie to watch that we make sure to end before midnight.  This year’s pick was Ant-Man, of all. It is a surprising choice because, when my sister learned they were going to make a movie with this title she immediately decided it was going to be the worst movie of all time. We were going to watch it anyway, because we watch all the Marvel movies – mostly because of me – and she had no choice. At the end of the movie, back in October, she decided it was brilliant and that we were going to watch it again on New Year’s Eve. So, yeah… there are happy endings to strange stories after all.  

Keeping with our nice and quiet holidays, we climbed the hill in our garden and watched the fireworks over the village. Not as many as last year but the ones closest were nice.

There is no reason to celebrate the coming of a new year, from my perspective, because it is nothing but another step towards us being older. And who’s to say it will be e a better year? Just because of all the wishes we say or text one another? People should remember that to actually produce a change for the better in their lives, they must work for it.  Nothing ever comes for free. Everything has a price and, when the time comes, we must be ready to pay it.

In the meantime, if we can squeeze a few moments of fun and good memories with the people closest to you, go for it. We can never know what is going to happen tomorrow. We might all freeze to death.

‘cause it’s damn cold outside.

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Here are a few of the Beouf salad decorations from previous years.