Pansyiana: August 2006 Archives

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned I was sick. I got better, but not 100%. I have not been able to shake the exhaustion. It is not simply exhaustion, I have been feeling that since getting pregnant. It is lethargy, and shortness of breath. I just want to sleep all the time and I sense some added blues as well.I am having trouble thinking clearly. It occured to me that I am probably anemic since that is my usual course during pregnancy. I looked up anemia and have all the symptoms except the usual tell-tale pica. I had a check-up yesterday and my doctor put me on prescription iron supplements. I hope they help.

I am awake now. (I have intermittent bouts of insomnia and falling asleep). I was watching a show on Discovery Channel that I like called A Haunting but fell asleep. I woke up to the next show called Most Evil. It is about a doctor from Columbia U. who studies the "why's" of serial killers and ranks them on a scale from 1-22, 22 being the most evil. I woke up in time to hear about the #22 guy for the evening, and to make a long story short without too many details, this guy was different because his victims were children. I got to hear the last story, and now I can't stop cryingh because I keep thinking what if that were my sweet, little Gorbulas?

I am not sure which is worse, that this stuff happens, or that they put it on TV. I mean knowing about it just got me really, really upset. But not knowing about doesn't change what happened. For some reason I think the Discovery Channel is "safe". But sometimes I think these shows are just as bad as any of the other crap, just in the guise of "documentary". If I learned something practical from it, then I would not feel quite as bad.

I think I have mentioned numerous times that my grandmother, her brother, and sister live together in a two-family haunted house in Mt. Vernon, NY. My brothers have named them "The Gang".

I love them, but they are a difficult bunch to get a long with. They have a set way things should be done (like everyone else), but they feel something is right for you, the ends justify the means. For example, if my grandmother feels you are overweight, it is equally acceptable to start putting you down, telling you are unattractive, and getting family members to start calling you up telling you you need to lose weight then just saying she is concerned for your health and handing you a Weight Watchers pamphlet. This pretty much goes for everything.

Then you add a few other elements, such as the fact that my grandmother is a hypochondriac, you have to take them with small doses.

One of the hardest elements with dealing with my family though is they have the worst communication skills out of everyone I know. Sometimes I think, and please forgive me if this is not very politically correct, that the people in my life who grew up in bilingual households and whose households although bilingual did not put a premium on correct grammar/language/communication skills have something of a difficulty communicating. I see a similar trend with my husband.

For example, The Gang has to put a definite article in front of every noun. The start many stories "did you see what happened to the grandmother? She has to go back to the doctor about the lungs."

Translation: Your grandmother is not feeling well and has to go see a pulmonary specialist. I *think* (but I could be wrong) that this is because in Italian, you do refer to everything as "the" whatever. La Nonna (the grandmother), il polmone (the lung-I hope that is masculine or else I have the wrong definite article).

So my aunt loves to tell stories about the goings-on in the extended family. The Italian population of Mt. Vernon is mostly related to me in some way or another, but I missed out on much history because I didn't grow up there. So it is not uncommon for my aunt to have to explain to me who she is talking about sometimes. This is enough to make you pull your hair out.

Aunt: Oh yes, that happened once up on the farm [in Pittsfield]*. When he was a baby, my cousin's mother's son got struck by lightening!

Did you get that? She meant her cousin. You get that tidbit of information after you ask if your cousin's mother was Aunt Laura. Yes. Then you ask if she had a another child you did not know about through another marriage. No. After 20 questions you don't even care why she just didn't say "my cousin".

Yesterday, my grandmother had an accident. She fell out the window or something. Deo Gratias, she is OK. Before I explain what happened, allow me to give you the story as I heard it:

Aunt: Did you hear what happened to The Grandmother?

Me: Um, no. (Wondering where I would have heard).

Aunt: She had an accident this morning.

Me:Oh no, what happened?

Aunt:She got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. She tried to go the one way and went the other and fell on the glass. Oh, she could have gotten all cut up!

Me: The one way and then the other?

Aunt: Yeah!

Me: She got disoriented? Lost her balance?

Aunt: Yeah, the balance!

Me: On the glass?

Aunt: Yeah, yeah, the glass!

Me: Do you mean the window?

Aunt: Yeah, the window (impatient now). Oh, if they blind wasn't there, she would have gotten all cut up. Oh, God forbid! You know why? When you get up from your sleep, you're supposed to stand there a few minutes before you move.

Me: Oh.

Aunt: And now she keeps trying to ge a glasser to replace the glass and can't get nobody. She just has the screen there and no glass.

By now, although I felt bad for my grandmother, I wanted to get off the phone because trying to make sense of the conversation is making my head hurt and thinking "oh, forgetta-bout it!"

You got what happened? My grandmother got up in the very early morning, lost her bearings, fell on the window shattering it. Thankfully she is not injured badly or cut up. I assume the glass was old and brittle and broke easily as it does with old windows. I think she keeps trying to call someone to replace glass, but I think these days you just have to replace the window.

This is the norm when communicating with my relatives. Conversations with them take a bit longer than most.

*My "Uncle Mooshki" (Mooshki being the Neapolitan pronunciation of "mosca" or fly) was my great-grandmother's first cousin. He married my gg's sister, started a dairy farm in Pittsfield, and had like 20 something kids to tend the farm. She eventually died in child-birth of a "shredded uterus" and her sister married him to help take care of the family. The fun fact is supposedly Uncle Mushki (how do you spell that?) was a good friend of Norman Rockwell, which I don't doubt because if you ever been to Pittsfield, I doubt many other people lived there. Apparently many of the 20 something kids are featured in his paintings.

But I am drawing a blank at the moment.

Yesterday was just one of those days, you know the kind when life seems a bit overwhelming and you do the stuff you aren't supposed to like self-medicate with a glass of wine, or a piece of chocolate cake. My dryer broke again, and I spent the day fighting with Sears over the fact that they did not fix it properly the first time, and I should not have to pay for them to get it right this time. I have to get the energy and start the phone calls again today. I think there is very few things I hate more than arguing with customer service representatives.

So I was feeling really stressed and couldn't drink wine, or eat anything I wanted to like chocolate chip bagels, so I penned the Star Wars rant and I felt much better. Now I would love to self-medicate again because my dryer is still broken,and I have to argue with more Sears people, but I am drawing a blank. I guess I'll go mop the floor.

My husband and I got into our usual dispute yesterday, and I need to prove once and for all that I'm right, he is wrong. There is no "grey" area in this issue. Just black and white I'm right, he's wrong.

He claims I am not a real Star Wars fan because I say Episodes I, II, and III stunk big time. According to him, if you are a true fan, even if the movies were a little cheesey (understatement), it was so great to see what happened after waiting all your life for George Lucas to make new movies. I say George Lucas should have left well alone, and as a true fan, I find the movies insulting.

They were horrendous. Why do I make such a bold claim? Here are ten good reasons to support my flawless argument:

1.Anakin cried all the time. I could not believe he was Darth Vader, but just some whiney skateboarder kid.
2.Little Anakin was equally annoying: "are you an angel?"
3.The pod races lasted too long. And for the record, little Anakin's best friend's name was "Kitster" which is a stupid, unimganinative name for a "kid".
4.Jar Jar Binks. The only good things about Episodes II, and III was less Jar Jar Binks.
5.Padme was useless. She was supposedly one of the best rulers of Naboo, and she chose this guy for his wonderful pick-up lines? And calls him "Annie" at that which means she should be thrown.
6.The whole notion that Anakin became Darth Vader because he wanted to save Padme's life, and then killed her is dumb, dumb, dumb. Does anybody buy that?
7.Bad dialogue like the "I hate sand. It's so coarse. Not like here. Everything here is smooth." pick-up line (see point #5) and overuse of the term "younglings".
8.Jar Jar Binks.
9.The fact that Mace Windu got killed in a "hey, what's that over there" move when he was powerful enough to defeat a single droid army by himself during the Clone Wars is annoying as well.
10.The big finale fighting scene at the volcano that we have been reading about for 25 years was lame!

Is that enough? Do I win, win, win?

I am sending the link to this entry to my husband, so I need to add the bonus #11 point: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy was better. :P

My husband went downstate to meet my mother-in-law and had the munchkins with him (another story I don't even want to talk about). I had to work, but chilled with my family afterwards. My family's routine is to go to the 4 o'clock Mass at the Church my father is assigned to. The pastor there has limited my father's deacon work to reading the Gospel at 4 o'clock Mass and doing funerals. (This guy is very insightful that he limits the responsibilities of a deacon with terminal cancer to doing funerals).

The Gospel was the Transfiguration. The pastor's Gospel was this (not verbatum, just from memory).

Want the condensed version today? (Everyone laughed and says yes. Oh that silly pastor, you know he is a good pastor because he is so witty). Recently philanthropist Warren Buffet gave 30 million dollars to the Gates Foundation. The Gates Foundation is a foundation that helps people and does good and charitable works around the world. The reason he did this is because he said "Bill, I have this money and want to do something good with it. If I give it to you, you have a better chance of transforming it into something better."

That is the message of the Transfiguration. We have to be like Warren Buffet and transform what we have into something better."

And that was it.

Later at Communion, I genuflected before receiving. I always do and have done so for years. I wait for the person in front of me to receive, while they are receiving, I kneel for a second (unless of course if I am at the Traditional Latin Mass). After Mass my father got yelled at because someone in his family genuflected, and the Bishop (supposedly) has specifically said we cannot genuflect before receiving. We are to bow. My father was upset because he got reprimanded and told me we should just be obedient to the Bishop (i.e. don't make waves and make my life harder).

The pastor should have said something to me,and addressed me as an adult, not yelled at my father (my mother told my father as much as well). As always, people never realize how psycho they are when they show that relationships with people are not about manipulating or controlling them. How nuts is it to scream at a 33-year-old woman's father because she kneeled at Communion?

I still have not heard of this edict from the Bishop, only when I go to Mass with my family. When I am not with them, I go out of my way to avoid parishes that are about the Pastor's therapy, and not about Jesus (we have a lot of those in Albany). So I actually still see things like kneeling during the consecration, homilies that have to do with the Gospel, and communion received in the mouth. Although altar boys are pretty much a thing of the past around here.

My mother said next weeks homiliy will probably again be about the evils of genuflecting. Most of his homilies are about someone doing something that he doesn't like, and lecturing the parish about it.

Warning: Blatant whine alert!

I have a cold or the flu or something that seems to have settled in my lungs. It hurts like a SOB when I cough, I feel lightheaded and dizzy. Everytime I try to go downstairs and do laundry, I get winded like I just came back from running, but without the high.

I hate being sick. I remember being small and being sick was something of an annoyance. Now as an adult, getting a cold is practically the end of the world. How would I manage if I contracted some horrible real illness like ebola or cancer?

I would have gone to the doctor yesterday, but with kids and life, I wanted to see if this was something that would pass. It was in the evening I realized that I really should have gone. But I can't go today, my husband has school he cannot miss. I cannot go tomorrow and, I have to work. I just looked at myself in the mirror and I look like crap. My Mediterranean (or whatever) complexion means every time there is anything amiss with me health wise, I get anything like not enough iron or H2O, lack of sleep, sick, dark circles appear under my eyes. But they are particularly pronounced when I am ill. The only thing worse than feeling bad is people asking me 800xs "you don't look so good, do you feel OK?"

I think it was easier to be sick when I was a child because I got to take time off. In adulthood if you are ill, that's just too bad.