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Oct. 14th, 2002 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
enteleinToday was a day that clicked along like clockwork, although I never felt the time as being measured or anything like that. Things just happened in sequence, and at the right times, and although I am up far too late right now for the day I will be having tomorrow, that in itself seems alright, as if today's charm will make that scripted and acceptable.
I went to a baptism today - watched a deacon blather on uselessly about having an audience with the Pope, which led to him blathering on even more uselessly about the beauty and wonder and utter value of children. Yes, we know. Let's move on to the spritzing and dunking of their holy heads, mmkay?
It was a modern church, all teak-y woodwork and a contemporary flair in the architecture. Glassed walls to the foyer, carpeted aisles, all redolent of posh mall more than house of God, but whatever. This is the new church, yo. The old charming brick church down the road just couldn't cut it for these progressive suburbanites, no way.
Anyway, saw my little infant second cousing get completely submerged (except for head) in the luxurious granite fountain to the left of the altarspace. More falderol followed of raimants of God being bestowed by godmothers, and then candles lit by godfathers, and blah blah children rule and I swear to you, my Roman Catholic mother was playing solitaire on my Palm Pilot, and her husband was nodding off quietly to my right.
Luncheon at the cousin's house after was nice - my mom and her two sisters told stories of living at their father's bakery, of my grandfather pressing a dime into my mother's little hand so she could run and get an ice cream at the corner store. We ate Corky's catered food - potato salad to die for, that gooey Jell-O with whipped cream stuff that is sort of like Geriatric Crack, paella and fried chicken and manicotti.
I drank lots of coffee.
After, I hung out at my mom's house for a while, helped her with a jigsaw puzzle. I got to work on the sky portion, fitting painted smudge of leaf and branch and snowy hillside to bright pale heavens. I was given a jar of honey and a jar of key-lime jelly to take home, as well as jars of craft glitter gunk (you dip stuff in it? I don't know. My mom thought it would be cool), vacuum cleaner replacement belts.
We went grocery shopping too, my mom and I. I picked up a large eggplant, hefted it, pressed my thumbs gently into the surface to check its freshness. Into the basket went chicken breasts, tilapia, salmon, shredded cheese, fruit juices. I hardly went down aisles, and I hardly ever do, any more. I'm more of a cook now, and the pre-fab food just isn't a part of my diet any longer. It's vaguely reassuring.
I got to see my brother briefly, as well. He stopped by the house on the way to the airport to pick up his wife. He's tired. He's going to school, and he's got a managerial job on night shifts, and he's looking elsewhere for a job. He still handed me ad papers for his store on my way out the door, though.
The night is chilly, definitely. There is almost that smell of winter in the air. I desperately want a pumpkin to carve, and I will hopefully have one before the week is out. It's Jack O'Lantern time, yes it is.
My cat Harriet has finally stopped puking up everything she's eaten this past week. I spent a few hours sitting on the futon with her last night, petting her and reminding her that I am here, that I am here, that I am here. I think she got the message, and she is no longer spasmodically horking up the contents of her stomach in anxiety. Poor cat. Next time Scott helps watch the cats I am setting measuring cups next to the food container. I think he may have over-fed them both while I was out of town, and so when I came back, Harriet's body had begun to react to this sudden massive change in diet. Scott claims he didn't really feed them that much, but it's OK. She's fine now, and she seems happier.
Life, as they say, is A-OK.
I went to a baptism today - watched a deacon blather on uselessly about having an audience with the Pope, which led to him blathering on even more uselessly about the beauty and wonder and utter value of children. Yes, we know. Let's move on to the spritzing and dunking of their holy heads, mmkay?
It was a modern church, all teak-y woodwork and a contemporary flair in the architecture. Glassed walls to the foyer, carpeted aisles, all redolent of posh mall more than house of God, but whatever. This is the new church, yo. The old charming brick church down the road just couldn't cut it for these progressive suburbanites, no way.
Anyway, saw my little infant second cousing get completely submerged (except for head) in the luxurious granite fountain to the left of the altarspace. More falderol followed of raimants of God being bestowed by godmothers, and then candles lit by godfathers, and blah blah children rule and I swear to you, my Roman Catholic mother was playing solitaire on my Palm Pilot, and her husband was nodding off quietly to my right.
Luncheon at the cousin's house after was nice - my mom and her two sisters told stories of living at their father's bakery, of my grandfather pressing a dime into my mother's little hand so she could run and get an ice cream at the corner store. We ate Corky's catered food - potato salad to die for, that gooey Jell-O with whipped cream stuff that is sort of like Geriatric Crack, paella and fried chicken and manicotti.
I drank lots of coffee.
After, I hung out at my mom's house for a while, helped her with a jigsaw puzzle. I got to work on the sky portion, fitting painted smudge of leaf and branch and snowy hillside to bright pale heavens. I was given a jar of honey and a jar of key-lime jelly to take home, as well as jars of craft glitter gunk (you dip stuff in it? I don't know. My mom thought it would be cool), vacuum cleaner replacement belts.
We went grocery shopping too, my mom and I. I picked up a large eggplant, hefted it, pressed my thumbs gently into the surface to check its freshness. Into the basket went chicken breasts, tilapia, salmon, shredded cheese, fruit juices. I hardly went down aisles, and I hardly ever do, any more. I'm more of a cook now, and the pre-fab food just isn't a part of my diet any longer. It's vaguely reassuring.
I got to see my brother briefly, as well. He stopped by the house on the way to the airport to pick up his wife. He's tired. He's going to school, and he's got a managerial job on night shifts, and he's looking elsewhere for a job. He still handed me ad papers for his store on my way out the door, though.
The night is chilly, definitely. There is almost that smell of winter in the air. I desperately want a pumpkin to carve, and I will hopefully have one before the week is out. It's Jack O'Lantern time, yes it is.
My cat Harriet has finally stopped puking up everything she's eaten this past week. I spent a few hours sitting on the futon with her last night, petting her and reminding her that I am here, that I am here, that I am here. I think she got the message, and she is no longer spasmodically horking up the contents of her stomach in anxiety. Poor cat. Next time Scott helps watch the cats I am setting measuring cups next to the food container. I think he may have over-fed them both while I was out of town, and so when I came back, Harriet's body had begun to react to this sudden massive change in diet. Scott claims he didn't really feed them that much, but it's OK. She's fine now, and she seems happier.
Life, as they say, is A-OK.
