i'm feeling a little weird and mopey.  been thinking a lot about zane and how our relationship just is not what i wish it would be. we have lived together, i have been this parental figure in his life for one year now, and i still don't feel like it would make any difference to him at all if i wasn't here when he woke up tomorrow.  it sounds a little harsh, but i just feel like there is this distance with us.  he's pretty non-affectionate generally, and as he is almost 10 now and the natural pulling away from affection with anyone is happening, which makes me feel like that chasm is going to get bigger and not naturally disappear like i hoped it would.  i have more of a bond with a lot of my students than i do the child who lives in my house, and that's not how i envisioned this.  i love him, but don't feel that back, and then i don't think put it out there as much.  i sometimes feel displaced when he, todd, and i are together. and feel ultimately helpless to make things different.

i don't know where i am going with this.

domesticity often agrees with me.

todd has to work today, and zane is still in richmond, so i've had the saturday to myself. i went to the farmers' market and bought a mint plant; for whatever reason, the seeds in my herb garden never took, which from all accounts is a blessing in disguise. otherwise, it's slow and steady progress on… let's see… this would be cilantro on day i think 37:

i repotted my plant into a large pot when i came home, and it's hanging out on the front porch so i remember to take extra care watering it every day.

i'm getting ready for my dad's arrival tomorrow. he is going on one of his epic car trips - staunton to michigan to denver and back over a couple weeks - and happily, he lands on my doorstep for father's day. i am going to take him out to lunch but want to plan a couple nice, light things for a late dinner at home. the perfect side dish is my mother's cucumber and watermelon salad, which in my memory is really only those 2 items plus lemon juice and maybe a pinch of salt and/or sugar. i've googled the recipe but can't come up with anything exactly right. the closest is this martha stewart recipe, but it's not quite 100%. this happens to me so often as i try to replicate cooking from my childhood. i harbor resentment for people who can just pick up the phone and ask their mom about ingredients.

i'm making röllchen, too, which are a total blast from my past. my mother used to make them as hors devours at new years and other special occasions, and looking at a list of ingredients that included grated onion, horseradish, and worcestershire sauce, i'm surprised i would even touch them as a kid. you combine all of the above with softened cream cheese, and then she used to place a dollop on very finely sliced beef lunchmeat and roll them up like a little cigar. as a veggiesaurus, of course, i now eschew that part and just eat the filling as a dip with wasa crackers. mmm.

i think for dessert i'll either do a fresh fruit shortcake or cream puff, or try out a new recipe i have for no bake peanut butter bars that use rice and wheat bran cereal. i'm not quite sure how that last one will turn out, but peanut butter on most things is yummy, so we'll see. and i must emphasize most things.

i am so not a fan of the fact that with day 4 of a heat advisory going on ("EXTREME HEAT!!!") our central air conditioning has decided now would be a great time not to function.   it's the same/exact opposite of what happened in the winter when our furnace kicked the bucket during the weeks in which the high temp was like 19 degrees.  our fabulous gay-bors loaned us two window units, so we're not melting, but waging the battle with our highly inefficient home warranty company for the second time in 5 months for a multi-thousand dollar job is not enjoyable.

on the up side of things, schooooooool's out - for sum-mer!

Wretched mole why can’t
I kill you? I am so soft.
To the park with you!

So I'm getting the mail when I spot some movement in one of my many flower beds. Moles have been tearing up beds and lawn since we moved in, but I hadn't actually seen one in the entire 4+ years we've lived here. So, manly man that I am, I put down the mail, grab a shovel and–with all the might you'd need to be a primary suspect in CSI, Bones or Murder, She Wrote–whacked the shit out of the mound in my mulch bead. 

The movement stopped.

Surely, surely I'd killed the little fucker. Ah, but what to do? Leave the little bugger under their to fertilize the plants. But no, I'd be putting in some plants in a few days time (I've got nearly a hundred impatiens raised from seed), so out he'd have to come. What a gruesome planting experience that'd be. So, I tip the shovel and scrape back the mulch to find … nothing. Hmm. So I dig down a little bit and uncover his furry ass. Only, I can see he's still breathing. The several inches of soil above him must have dispersed the force of the blow. I dug him out the rest of the way and pondered over his stunned self for a few moments. It's one thing to whack the crap out of a moving mound of mulch, another to squish a furry little mammal. Sigh. The part of me raised by hunters raised by hunters and farmers just wants to step on it and be done. The parent in me just doesn't want to deal with this at all. So, I scoop the little fucker up and put him in a bucket. Only, he flops off the shovel and back onto the ground. So I grab him and plop him in. Moles are surprisingly solid little animals. Most furry little things you pick up are soft and squishy; not so the mole. It's like a fur-covered rock.

I kept him in the bucket for a few hours while I went about my business and decided what to do with him. In the end, I showed him to Reed, we observed his physical characteristics necessary to his habitat, and then settled on relocating him to the park. 

Sigh. I can hear the inverse telling of The Grinch that Stole Christmas in the back of my head: "… and what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch's balls shrank three sizes that day!"

this time tomorrow, i'll be back in ny. happy sigh. but in the vein of carrie bradshaw, i can't help but wonder… how is it that i pine so for a place where i was never really happy? BK is the new mr. big.

ps - rent "into the wild."  like, now.

yesterday, as i sat down for a sandwich at the ravenwood cafe, i had a bit of a loveburst for my little city. the ravenwood is new transplant in staunton, and the best way i can describe it is what i imagine edgar allan poe's kitchen would be like - a little dark, but very southern, yet progressive, as well.

anyway. i have such acute aches for new york sometimes that they are practically physical. but now that i have been in staunton for a year and a half, it's found its own place in my heart, and i love that.

i have "my" things in this town now - my routines and places and things. i've realized this sense of belonging is crucial to my comfort in, or with, a place. when i poke around at celebration!, the owner asks me how my crazy german relatives are doing. when we greet the door guy at clocktower, we talk about what's going on with big boots. i order my usual at blue mountain without glancing at the menu. i have my nice little artsy movie theaters, my crunchy veggie-friendly grocery, my favorite route to walk at the park.

i might not wear a staunton, VA shirt with the feel i'd have advertising my brooklyn pride across my chest, but at least the idea of wearing that t-shirt doesn't seem quite as foreign as it once did.

Christmas is upon us. I'll be on the east coast soon, celebrating with family.

But this year things are hectic, family has become more critical than ever — the focus of the trip is not the presents or decorations or rituals. This year it is seeing and spending time with family.

It is easy to say that this is always the focus; the difference this year is that it is the only item on the table. My parents are stressed and busy; I'm unclear if there is even a tree. I suppose there might not be. And that's ok with me. But all of this coupled with the weird feeling that the holiday snuck up on me this year and I wonder if I've just grown up a bit more, if I am a bit more worn from my day-to-day schedule to be able to enjoy the countdown to presents and vacation.

I don't mind, but I'm not used to celebrating the season this way. I'm not clear on how to revel in it when I am so entrenched in work and life, when I can't seem to make time slow down the way I could ten or twenty years ago, when Christmas presents sat out for a week or more, when anticipation drove me insane, when I spent all my free time shaking and feeling and sorting every present, delighted at the puzzle.

This year will be something different for my entire family. I'm very much looking forward to it — ultimately, it will be the best of all worlds. But it's odd when the yearly routine disappears.

And because I can announce it, I have gotten my first present this year. From my manager, I am the proud owner of the 8bit tie now.

And that is not me modeling it. But you get the idea.