Life is … strange … lately.
Depressing. But not. I try to keep a positive attitude.
Yesterday my wife and I walked through the house with sage and candle, smudging away the bad energies.
Then my wedding ring disappeared. And I started to lose it, searching the house. I knew it was in the house somewhere. But why had it left me? I looked all over. Even in the garbage, just in case.
And casually, my wife kept saying, “Let’s flip over the couch.” I had already looked under there, with a flashlight and everything. I hadn’t seen it. But eventually I gave in to her certainty. And somehow, sure enough, there it was. The spirits had been telling her, and she had been trying to tell me. It took me longer than it should have to listen.
The funny thing was, as I found it, and felt relief, she was still wound up herself. She lets things get to her too. Not that I blame her. Her health is becoming a real issue for her, a constant reminder that all is not well. Her job is no picnic either. The house has so much that we want to do to it, so many things half-done. The painting outside, the repair work inside, both held off by rain. Because obviously you can’t strip and paint wood in the rain. I need time for it to dry out before I can get back to it. But also the kitchen repair work I need to do some minor electrical work. Hopefully minor anyway. No big deal, except that the clouds keep the room dark, and because of the goofy wiring in the house, I’ll only feel safe cutting the main, which means the only light I’ll have while I work will be the sun. Hard to do with so many clouds. So much of our house is half-done. Because of the weather. Because my wife’s health keeps her from helping me, or doing what she needs to do.
And still I have no job. That grates on us both. Me, because I feel useless. Her, because we have two mortgages and she worries about the money. Granted, I do too. But at least I knew things like this could happen as an independent software contractor, so our bank account was prepared. We have savings to fall back on. It’s scary all the same. But at least we make ends meet. We just, in this time of uncertainty, don’t do things we otherwise could, like hire someone to fix this or that.
But I try to keep positive. If not for me, than for my wife. She has so much weighing her down. I try to help.
Today is no different. And yet, it is.
Last night we had a rotisserie chicken for dinner. We grabbed it on our way out after grocery shopping. Neither of us was in much mood to cook. We had made a day of shopping. Looking at clothes. Looking at Christmas decorations. Looking at hair colors. Looking at video games. Just looking. And then looking at food, and somehow, like always, buying a lot more than we intended. Not that we won’t need it or use it, but somehow a simple list of ten things always turns into a cart filled to the brim. At least I got some new shoes. Nothing special. Just some regular-wear black shoes to replace my worn-out black sneakers.
So we had the chicken for dinner, and that was nice.
And then my wife’s daughter called and had a nice talk with her mom. It was sweet. Sometimes my wife hates being “Mom” because kids are kids. Especially while one is a just-graduated teenager and one is in his early twenties. Life is so full of drama for them. Oh to be young again. With so many things on my wife, sometimes she just doesn’t have the patience of heart to put up with their silly little games. But that’s what moms are there for. She doesn’t appreciate it when I remind her of that.
I have to admit a kind of perverse joy in being “Step-Dad”. Heh heh. Not that I try had to win over my wife’s kids. They have their own dad. They don’t need me to pretend to be something I’m not just because I’m with their mom now. But all the same, they’re people. And I treat them as such. And I think they respect me for that. I don’t try to win them over. I don’t patronize them. I don’t go out of my way to make them my friend like some fake. I just give them respect, and they seem to give it back. I think they find it a nice change of pace, to just be treated like adults. In its own way, it’s fun.
But so in the course of the conversation of daughter and mother, it turns out she’s got a job. Having just graduated high school, and having had lectures from Dad about how she needs to concentrate on college and only take jobs that will support that, and having had it out with her boyfriend about what jobs she can and can’t take, and so forth, she was happy to just have a job and nuts to everyone’s opinions. That’s the spirit! It’s her life. I’m glad she’s starting to appreciate that. It was nice to hear. But she mentioned that she found the job on Craigslist.
Oooh.
That place?
Not that I have anything against it really, but every time I’ve tried to look on there… Well… It’s hard to take seriously. I mean job searching there is bad enough. It’s like, knowing it’s free, people just don’t even try to fix their grammar or make things even remotely readable. The place is almost a joke. And that’s the people trying to take it seriously. Then there’s the personals…
But I figured, what the hey. I could add it to my job searching. So this morning I did. I hit Career Builder and Monster and Dice and Yahoo and then, I hit Craigslist.
Wouldn’t you know it, but darned if I didn’t find something that was actually inteligbly written and seemed sincere. So I applied with an email, attaching my resume. And then damn if not literally minutes later there’s a phone call, from them, to set up an appointment to interview. Wow! That was fast!
And it makes me think maybe, just maybe, the universe is trying to get me to listen.
So, today is a good day.
And in the spirit of good days, I took the remains of the chicken carcass and sat down at the TV (watching Monkeybone in high-def on HBO) and started pulling the meat from the bones.
Does anyone even do this anymore?
Normally I separate the white meat from the dark meat when I do that because my wife isn’t so keen on dark meat. (Me, I love it. It’s so much more tender! You just have to scrape off the icky fat.) She uses the white meat in salads. I use the dark meat in soup. I love to make soup and stuff out of the leftovers of chickens or turkeys.
This time though I’m just going to make a big batch of chicken pot pie casserole. So I just put all of the meat together in a bowl for later instead of baggies. And this time I felt especially olde tymie, so I also separated the bones and some choice bits of meat that I didn’t want to mess with, and dried skin, and put all that into a pot. Add the congealed drippings in the bottom. Fill the pot with water. And boil, simmer, and reduce to make stock.
I never manage to get much stock out of chicken, not when I save as many bits of meat like I do for actual eating. Turkey however, like after Thanksgiving, you can get a lot more from. Especially if you’re smart enough to save the turkey drippings from the pan after roasting your turkey. Mmmm. Besides making good gravy (just as some salt and corn starch dissolved in water), those drippings also make good stock for soup.
But still, it’s strangely satisfying.
I don’t know why though.
I can’t recall my mother ever doing this.
I can’t recall my grandparents ever doing this. Though I’d bet at least my dad’s mom, AKA “Good Grandma” has done it. (My mom’s mom, AKA “Evil Grandma” is a drama queen, and was never really one to get along with. She’s almost the opposits of “Good Grandma”, just for a bit of explanation.) “Good Grandma” is a health food nut (which is a good thing) and one of those people who can’t throw things away. She’s a product of the Great Depression. She even saves the water she boils vegetables in because that’s where all the nutrients go. And she never goes out to dinner without a plastic baggie in her purse, as if we don’t have doggie bags these days. She used to embarrass Grandpa, but I always thought it was cute. He probably did too, or he wouldn’t have married her and stayed with her all those years, you know?
So I really don’t know where I learned to do it. Honestly, I think it’s just past-life memories coming through.
But so, there’s just something about taking that cold picked carcass and turning it into home made soup, or something else that’s just homey-good. And it fills the house with such wonderful smells. It’s what makes a home a home. That and fresh-baked bread, and cookies, and pie. There are just those old smells, as old as time itself, that fill your heart as well as your stomach.
It seemed like a good way to honor the day. It’s especially perfect for autumn, with the colored leaves in the trees, on the grass, everywhere. And that damp earthen smell. It’s like, at least for this one day, life is perfect, and I can just put everything not-perfect aside for a while and just concentrate on the good for a change. It’s a little slice of home-made heaven. It’d god, in a pot, and meant to be shared.
I hope all of you out there in Blog Land are having your own special day today.
