Undifference

I rung in the New Year by watching a rerun of The Shield, a cop show on FX that I often watch. The star is a chunky bald man with incredibly blue eyes. I don't know why I like the show, it's violent and has lots of swearing and police corruption in it, but for some reason I like it. Anyway, midnight came and went and there I was, in the world of Glenn Close's police station in Los Angeles. So I figure I feel ok about another year's beginning. 2005 was ok. Ken and I had a discussion about it on Sunday and we agreed that nothing particularly good or bad happened to either of us in 2005. I dealt with life, got better at some things, felt hopeful about some things, solid about some things.

I spent New Year's Eve making pea soup for Ken. He had a ham bone and wanted pea soup for his New Year's Day Sunday dinner. On Saturday I picked up my fish from his house. Of course this was complicated, but it was good because I ended up emptying the tank and putting the fish in a one-gallon glass jar while I transported the tank, pump and heater, then cleaned the gravel and tank at home, and rearranged their furniture (plants). When I put them back in the tank they were all a-twitter about the new arrangement but now they are incredibly happy and swim around like Jet Stream trailers on Route 80 in the summer time.

And my pea soup was absolutely delicious. I was mighty proud. Ken pronounced it a culinary delight (OK, so he doesn't use those words: I've never heard him say "delight," and needless to say he never says culinary). Excellent flavor, excellent texture. I also made shrimp Dejongh, a favorite of my mother's and something she made for company when we were kids. That was not a hit with Ken. Turns out the only way he likes shrimp is boiled, chilled and with cocktail sauce. No point trying to do anything else with them. I liked it, though, and was pleased with my efforts. He just kept focusing on the soup. We had a nice time together (Bill was in Boston, where he always spends New Years with camp friends).

Yesterday was a great day off. I had a wonderful day and want another one just like it today. Alas and alack I am at work. Yesterday I cleaned my bedroom. Sorted clothes. I have pants in 3 sizes: fat, not-so-fat and thin. The thin ones are on bottom of the pile, fat on top. I hope to work my way down. I have many, many pairs of blue jeans, it turns out. Apparently I am dedicating my life to the search for the perfect pair of jeans and the perfect pair of shoes. Just when I think I've found them, along comes another possibility. Anyway, I swept up a huge pile of dog detritus--2 tennis balls, 2 chew toys and the stuffed animal hedgehog that grunts that Jenica gave Chances 2 Christmases ago, along with pieces of blue flip-flop, some reed, a plastic measuring cup, 2 magazines and big dust bunnies from under the bed. Then I vacuumed the floor. This involves using the hose attachment and holding it perpendicular to each of the nail holes--and there are 4 for each section of board--because Jamie never really finished the room, never filled in the holes so they fill up with particles of things, dog hair and dust. Vacuuming the bedroom is one of my least favorite activities. REALLY least favorite activities. There is also no molding along the wall, so all kinds of stuff gets down between the floor and wall, which must be vacuumed/forced up by hand. Anyway, I filled one garbage bag with clothes for the dump and another with clothes for the Salvation Army and now feel very righteous. I rotated my futon and put a new sham around the bottom of the bed. I might actually let someone look into my bedroom now (maybe).

Today is the day the new bookmobile arrives from North Carolina. It cost $300,000 and has been difficult to get financing from the 3 counties for, difficult to design, order, get built, and get the graphics on the sides for. But it's finished and will arrive today with a police escort from the highway through town. Unfortunately the previous director has been here for 1.5 hours, wasting everyone's time because she was notified that it was coming this morning and she wants to be sure to get credit for arranging to get the 'bile. It creeps me out totally to have her in the building, and we've had to cancel a 10:00 meeting because she's been wasting the new director's time. But then, I suppose it's more important to entertain her than it is to actually accomplish anything here--NOT.

My mother and I had a discussion about the words "It is what it is." This is how Donald Rumsfeld explains away anything he wants to, especially when asked questions about the war. We decided that this is a philosophy that I try to have--accept things the way they are, deal with it, and that maybe this is not a bad way to look at life. But is this really an acceptable way to run the country? I think not, but I think I will try to have 2006 be my What It Is year.