Dear Mummy,

you and the rest of the family have cruelly abandoned me to gallivant in the English countryside, and are enjoying snow while I putrefy in this stifling heat. Mother nature damn over-zealous air-con users and ignorant Heads of States who deny the effects of Global warming.

As per your loving post it notes (do you really think that lowly of your first born child?) I have performed the chores you’ve left for me rather admirably.

Today, day 1 of living alone for a terrifying week and plus, I’ve completed the following quests set by you:

1. Cook breakfast, with assistance, and not burn down the kitchen/house or suffer crippling food poisoning.
2. Use the washing machine, without flooding the yard
3. Hang up the laundry
4. Water your plantation of houseplants.

   I even took the liberty to rescue one of the cactuses that was surely and slowly drowning. I don’t mean to blame you for this little incident (though I doubt you would deny your bad track record with cactuses); since this little plant belongs to the useless 3rd child of yours I am inclined to blame her for overzealous watering.

   The plant in question has been removed from its waterlogged pot and hopefully will survive when the soil dries out. I can’t tell yet if its roots have started rotting or not.

5. I also drove out, came back car unscathed, and parked the car really well, just the way you like it. Photographic evidence:
   
   This took only one try, despite the fact that your male child is always the one who gets the car, and I seldom ever do.

So today is almost over, but tomorrow the real nightmare will start – how am I going to get up in time to prepare breakfast, and get to work on time without you to ferry me to the train station? And for the next 9 days? Weep.

I miss KL, when the whole ching-chong family was there.

So I slacked off on my daily update about my new living arrangement, my bad.  I was just so busy sitting around the apartment hating life.   Yeah, basically, I sat around all day studying my ginormous outline (L, you know how I do), eating janky calzone, wanting to cry.  Eventually, I went out and drank with our friends who finished their finals yesterday, and even though I was super envious the whole time, I was so relieved to be around people again I didn’t care.

And that was Day 4.  I’m going to remember it as the day I cracked a little bit, and the first day I did the dishes since Leftie left.  Today’s goal:  take out the trash, including the random box full of trash by the trash can…

For breakfast this morning (partly since I’m out of bowls) I’m eating some janky calzone and drinking a soda (since coffee and calzone could be a rough combo).  Also, instead of washing a fork, I’m using the one I used last night to eat the rest of my curry.

I think Leftie’s absence is starting to get to me…

I was actually productive for reals for a while today!  I got up, showered, and went to Tierra with Amanda.  She took me home at 5:30ish, and I’ve been goofing off ever since.  I had this cute plan to do all the dishes tonight once I finished my outline, but by the time I finished my outline, I was so relieved I couldn’t bring myself to do any dishes.  Well, I washed one fork (again) so I could eat my left over Thai, and now I’m officially out of bowls so tomorrow I’m srrsly gonna try and do dishes.

Getting home so early tonight was kind of merrish until I started a Hills dvd, and then God smiled upon me and put the new episode of Jersey Shore on mtv, so that’s what I’m watching now.  Oh!  And my biggest growing moment of the day has been learning to fish

So I accidentally forgot about a soda I left in the freezer yesterday (I’d already had some of it, so it didn’t explode).  I decided it’d be a great idea to throw the frozen thing in my backpack and bust it out once it defrosted so I could have a nice cold soda.  Well, apparently the thing got all fizzy after being frozen.  I tried to open it slowly like 5 times and kept closing it before any incidents could happen.  Well, I was getting pretty thirsty, so on time number 6 I opened it really fast and the thing exploded all over me in the middle of Tierra.  According to Amanda, my face was hilarious, probably similar to the one I make whenever any sort of loud noise or unexpected thing happens to me.

Moral of my story:  Leftie missed out on the opportunity to watch me make a bigger fool of myself than usual.  Also, I just noticed a wet chunk of my hair that’s full of soda.  Wahhhhh.

All right, still staying strong.  Started the day off not getting out of bed til 11:45, then watched my Patridge Family movie (amazing) while eating a bowl of mac n’ cheese (thank goodness Leftie left some noodles in the fridge!).  Then, instead of letting myself spend an entire day in CJ alone, I went to a coffee shop and “did work” for a few hours, then went to get Thai for dinner.  Now, I’m “working” and thinking about going to bed soon.  The only dish I’ve washed since Leftie left me (jaja) is one fork, and that was just so I could eat my mac n cheese.   I think that’s all the important events of my second day of living alone.  The most important part is that I’m still sane, still not depressed, and still have a decent amount of food and alcohol.   I can feel myself growing (as a person, not a fatty) already!

So, the roomie left me and Achmed alll alone for 6 days, merrr   But so far, things are going ok.  After going out to lunch after my con law exam, I came home, started desperately texting everyone I know to try and get someone to play  with me tonight, and talked to the bf.  Now I’m gonna dick around and catch up on all the wonderfully trashy tv shows I need to catch up on, then make someone play with me when I’m done.

Yup, so far, so not the worst thing ever…

“Reaction to Budget 2010 is mixed as far as Older People are concerned” said Máiréad Hayes CEO of the Irish Senior Citizens Parliament today following the announcement of the Budget. “While the State Pension has not been touched per se, we must remember that Older People’s income has already been reduced by 2% by the withdrawal of the additional payment at Christmas” continued Ms Hayes.

“In addition we note that the new carbon tax will impact on vulnerable pensioners especially those 10% of Older People who are already living in fuel poverty. It is older people living alone, on low incomes, in older housing stock – which tends to be poorly insulated – that are currently struggling to heat their homes. It is these people that must be protected.

“Other Budget items impacting on Older People include the new 50c prescription charge. 96% of older people living alone are at risk of poverty, according to the CSO SILC (Survey on Income and Living Conditions) published two weeks ago. A previous Minister for Social Welfare indicated that the living alone allowance could be increased in the bad times – at times when the pension itself could not be increased, but this has not happened.”

“Taking the various cuts as a whole, Older People will see a fall in their income of approximately €600 per year, or 5% for someone relying on their state pension.”

“Older people do not live in a vacuum and are well aware of the financial realities – however the various cuts remind us that this is a long way from the promises in the current social partnership agreement ‘Towards 2016’”, concluded Ms Hayes.

AS GHAEILGE

Cáinfhaisnéis 2010 & Seanóirí

“Is fáilte meascaithe atá tuillte ag an gCáinfhaisnéis seo, ‘fhad ‘is a mbaineann sé le sean daoine na hÉireann” arsa Máiréad Hayes príomhoifigeach feidhmiúcháin Parlaimint Shaoránaigh Sinsearacha na hÉireann inniu i ndiaidh na cáinfhaisnéise. “Cé nár chuireadh isteach ar an phinsean stáit, caithfimid a thógáil san áireamh gur gearradh 2% ó ioncam lucht an phinsin níos luaithe i mbliana nuair a cuireadh deireadh le ‘bónas na Nollag’ a dúirt Ms Hayes. “Dar leis an The European Pensions Barometer Report tá an dara pinsean is measa san Aontas Eorpach anseo in Éirinn – céim amaháin os chomhair an Ríocht Aontaithe.”

“Chomh maith le sin, is fiú a luadh go gcuirfidh an cáin charbóin nua isteach ar pinsinéirí leochaileach – ach go háirithe an 10% d’ár seanóirí atá ina gcónaí le bochtanas breosala cheanna. Is iad sean daoine ina gcónaí leo féin, ar ioncam íseal, i sean-tithe – nach bhfuil inslithe i gceart – atá faoi bhrú le teas a choinneáil ina dtithe. Caithfear na daoine seo a chosaint.”

“I measc rudaí eile sa cháinfhaisnéis seo a chuirfidh isteach ar sean-daoine tá an táille nua 50c ar oideas agus an ísliú sa Liúntas do Chúramóirí. Tá bliain eile imithe gan pingin breise sa Liúntas maireachtála aonair – níl ardú ar bith sa liúntas seo ó 1996. Tá 96% de sean-daoine a chónaíonn leo féin i mbaol bochtanais de réir an SILC (Survey on Income and Living Conditions) foilsithe coicís ó shin ag an Príomh Oifig Staidrimh.”

“Ag tógáil na giorruithe éagsúla le chéile beidh titim €600 nó mar sin sa bhliain ar seanóirí na hÉireann. Sin 5% dóibh siúd a bhraitheann ar an Pinsean Stáit amháin.”

“Feicimid nár déanadh aon rud don pas saorthaistil nó don pacáiste sochair teaghlaigh. Bíonn tiochar díreach ag na scéimeanna seo ar na daoine is boichte agus is leochailí in Éirinn. B’fhéidir go bhfuil ceacht foghlaimithe ó ollfeachtas na bliana seo caite”, chríochnaigh Ms Hayes.

What I love about my solitude (aka living alone):

You can eat whatever you want in the fridge because you know it’s all yours.

There is no lights out at a certain time policy or inconvenience of cooperating with other’s sleep schedules.

You have the ultimate say in what channel or radio station you want to stay on, along with the furniture and general layout of the house.

This is a little depressing, but you can have your sad and miserable phases without other people having to worry about your odd behavior around the house.

If you forget to bring something into the bathroom before a shower, you can run out naked as long as your windows are covered.

You can have secrets.

Do things that aren’t your style and not get criticized for it.

You can sing aloud in the shower extremely poorly and choose the most embarrassing songs as well.

Yours stuff doesn’t magically disappear or get relocated.

No one can tell you to fix the habits that you know are already bad.

No sorting of mail. It’s all yours. That applies to the phone line too.

You should be able to sleep through everything since there shouldn’t be any other noise in the house.

You don’t have to clean up after others, especially with dishes.

You can vacuum or open up windows whenever you want since no one is there to complain about it being too cold or too early/late to clean.

If there is a situation to calls for avoidance, you have no one to blame it on or use as an excuse to get out of a sticky situation. Ex. You stub your toe really bad and you’re writhing in pain on and banging your fist against the floor simultaneously. After the pain subsides, you realize you have an anal neighbor downstairs who already seems to hate you. When he/she comes up, you blame it on the room mate who is “supposedly” moving out by next week and won’t bother the neighbors again.

You don’t have to worry about interrupting someone or bringing home friends at anytime. It’s always convenient as long as the time suits your schedule.

What I love about living with someone:

It doesn’t get so lonely, especially on bad weather days. Stay in for a rainy day.

If you spot a spider or centipede, it’s all up to your room mate to kill it or do something about it.

If the lights go out, you’ll have company…in the dark.

No privacy. You can’t have secrets.

It’s safer. Less chance of getting robbed or whatever. Make sure your roomie is a jetininjablackbeltpirate.

You have a buddy for board games! I love Scrabble

If you keel over, there is someone there to call 911. Or at least I hope they do?

You have someone for a second opinion in clothing or for open discussion about recent events/happenings.

You can share stuff! Whatever that may be.

You can vent to someone after getting home from a bad day at school or work.

Share the load of work. Rotate for cleaning or laundry.

Have someone to eat with.

You need to talk more. Your mornings will be less of zombie mode if you need to reply to a “good morning”. (Unless you plan on ignoring them.)

Someone can wake you up if you know you’re going to have a late night.

Forgot something on the way out but you’re already running late. Call room mate, they come downstairs/out with it and you save yourself a good 5 minutes!

To clarify why I’d decided to make public a post from a few days ago, I did so only after the circumstance that has inspired it had passed, so that it could not be interpreted as a cry for attention or sympathy but a mere description of my experiences and thoughts.  So it seemed acceptable to post such musings once the thought no longer struck me as a reasonable answer for the current situation, hence no longer something worthy of others’ concern.  Because I don’t respect those who cry wolf for others’ attention and sympathy.  It’s manipulative.  I’m of the philosophy that, if you speak of it, you better carry it out one day so you’re not just a whiner.

As for making something public which most would keep private, it’s because it matters to me that I am as I present myself.  As I explained to Philip, I’ve known for several years now that I would bring my own end, even with the help of therapy and medication.  It doesn’t scare me, only I get annoyed when events make those thoughts premature, as was the case this past week.

The key for me is to do what I can to think of something to live for and that usually postpones my plans.  It’s only unfortunate I have fewer things to live for now than even a few months ago.  I’m working on it, but with little success beyond the ever shortening list I had two years ago.  On the bright side, I still floss and use stim-u-dents every evening for my gums (as my periodontist instructs), which means I haven’t given up on myself. I’m simply the kind of person who is fascinated by these little aspects of life, hence my choosing to write about it.  This thought, in turn, made me realize I had another motivation to live, simply to be able to observe life, since as all sensible people know, death isn’t as it’s portrayed in The Lovely Bones.

I also realized recently that I can’t merely live to spare Frank (I no longer care what effect I have on my parents), since I can’t protect him from being hurt.  He has to save himself eventually, as I’ve been constantly exhorting him to, though I know my pointing this out is to no avail.  This is an odd dance Frank and I perform.  I do what I can to protect him, only to resent feeling I should protect him, but the pain of seeing him hurt makes me give in and make things better, only to know in myself that I won’t always be able to be there for him.

For those who may question why we continue this dance, it’s because he makes my life worth living.  We always laugh together, no matter how difficult things get, and he understands my sick humor (and its unhealthy roots); he doesn’t get tired of my overanalyzing things and answers my hypothetical questions based on the disturbing things people reveal about themselves on update feeds; he knows what twisted things repression leads people to do but also regrets that being open about who one is isn’t a panacea; he plucks my eyebrows and uses his prescribed pain-killing cream to make the process more bearable; he has the same instincts about people and language; and he makes me care about the Huskers and also made me believe people’s handwriting does in fact reveal aspects fo their personality, which I’d thought was a joke before.  (I’m socially awkward [left-leaning print] but I fight it [largeness of print showing desire to be understood], my writing sample says today.  My signature also doesn’t have the blunt [sharp-tempered] end it had a few days ago.  Bravo!)

On a very sad and serious note (which can’t be underscored enough), it’s the birthday of a former classmate who died just over a year ago from anorexia.  She’s often in my thoughts, when I think of my relationship with food and my body, when I think of parental expectations and the disparity between our friends’ and our own view of ourselves, when I think of what depressed individuals have to live for, when I imagine potentially living alone and able to lock out the world, when I think of how much I wish I’d known her and all the conversations I didn’t have with peers in school.

In the seventh grade, she was my Secret Santa, a great one actually, and she made me a mixed tape with songs I so appreciated her taking the time to introduce me to (I was very self-conscious about not knowing any popular music at that age).  The one song I remember in particular from the tape was Alphaville’s Forever Young.  It’s heartbreaking to hear now.  I’m not sure what message I would give if I could: It would have been wonderful to have known you better, but I’m so glad you had a tight group of friends to support you.  I wish you were still alive and battling through whatever challenges you faced, if that was a feasible option, but I’m glad you’re no longer sufering. Most of all, though such questions can never be answered, I hope you made the right decision for yourself.

Photo by Sherry Keller

Budget minus 3 – Sunday 6 December

“On the third day before the budget, Older People asked of Brian …”

Living alone / Over-80 increases

Dear Brian,

The Vincentian Partnership for Social Justice has shown that the cost of living alone equals 73% of the cost of living as a couple. The state helps the 26.7% of all people aged 65+ in Ireland who live alone by paying them a living alone increase amounting to €7.70 per week.

But this payment has not been increased since 1996 – in over 13 years. We are calling for this payment to be now increased to €18 per week.

This is an essential benefit – not only do we want to see it maintained but we feel that it should be increased to match the rise in the cost of living since 1996.

The Age Increase paid to those aged over 80 has not changed for a number of years and the Parliament is now calling for it to be increased from €10 to €15 per week. It should also be extended to a dependent spouse over 80 years of age.

Every small measure that keeps Older People healthy & out of hospitals and nursing homes will save the state money.

Yours sincerely

Ireland’s Older People

This will be my second Christmas in my new home – somehow I’ve been able to keep this place afloat for a year and a half.  No utilities have been shut off, no creditors ringing my phone. Sure, I’ve been late on somethings here and there, and I’ve learned how to live off a dozen eggs and lentils for weeks at a time, but all in all. I’m a success. In my book anyway.

I had some help to get where I am today, and I hope I’ve expressed my gratitude to those people clearly enough, so they will know I am forever grateful.  But nobody did the work for me, nobody taught me how to buy a home or how to keep it, I did the legwork and the preparation – I saved and pinched and figured it all out. It’s still a bit of a challenge to keep everything moving forward, but somehow I work it all out in the end – no matter how much I stress at the end of the month.

I don’t make a whole lot of money, as my income is just about as much as my outgo. It’s a balancing act for sure, and I’m working on creating more positive, financial energy flow my way. But I do have one advantage: good credit. 

This is something that WAS taught to me, and a lesson that was drilled into my head by my Mother. Boy, am I glad she did. Even though my bank account isn’t very full and will drain bit by bit as the month goes along, I have purchasing power. I could go out and buy a new car today if I wanted to. But, I won’t, of course. (and hopefully won’t need to for a long time – knock on wood)

It’s the power of credit that allowed me to finance this house. I worked hard on getting credit, being responsible with my debts, paying them back on time. I carry balances that are larger than I’d prefer, but even so, they work for me – creditors like the fact that I owe them money, and my credit score goes up because of this. Strange game, indeed. But you gotta know how to play.

This Christmas I won’t actually spend at home, I’m going to go to Florida to see family and friends.  I was given a generous vacation slot by my boss, and I’m going to take advantage of it. The original plan was to do Orlando – Tampa – Miami then home to Atlanta. But as plans got more finite, prices on flights from Tampa to Miami and Miami to Atlanta are ridiculously expensive on the dates I need. 

Fact is, I can’t afford this trip at all. But I’m going anyway. I can only do it because of I have credit. But at the same time, I have to be frugal, even though I can spend $50,000 doesn’t mean I actually will. But I’ll spend $500 for two weeks in the Florida sun, catching up with family, making memories and relaxing, and just getting away from it all. It’s worth it to me. But that’s my limit. If I really think about it, I used to spend twice that just shopping on Christmas gifts. So, really – I’m saving money

I really wanted to hit Miami and spend time with Yamel, but as it turns out I’ll be in Tampa – and he is most welcome to join me there. I know he isn’t a millionaire and doesn’t have a lot of disposable income, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask, considering I’m just a few hours away.

He kind of ranted at me about how many things he has to pay for, and if he had known earlier, he would’ve put money aside. Ah, yes – such is life. It’s unexpected, I know, but there’s a full month to save up some funds, yes? He said something to me along the lines of, “Nobody helps me paying my bills, I guess I’ll just have to get a loan” (in a smarmy sort of tone).

Oh, how I bit my tongue. I hear statements like this all the time, the whole “poor me” thing. Ick. 

I could do it too. I can go off if I really wanted to. I could scream from the top of my roof about all the things I have to do all by myself. I’d start with the roof, it’s mine – I pay for it. Everything in the house I paid for, from the paint on the walls to the pictures hanging, the furniture, the glasses in the cupboard, the candles on the mantle. All me. How about the food in the fridge – or the electricity that the fridge runs on. Me. The heat? The gas? The water? The trash pickup? The Homeowner’s Association? The taxes? The insurance? Me. How about the car? The gas? The registration, fees, taxes and insurance for that? Me, me, me. Or, how about dear, lovely Echo – she’s only fat and happy because I took her out of the shelter and feed her and scoop her poop everyday. Who buys it? Who does it? Me. Who does the laundry and buys all the laundry soap? me. Who does the dishes and all the cooking? me. Who bought the vacuum and uses it weekly? me. Who replaces things when they wear out, fixes things when they brake, finances upgrades when they’re required? Me, me, me. And who can I rely on to help me with any little thing in my life, personal, financial or otherwise? Me. 

I didn’t mean to rant, I guess I just needed to get it out. At least I didn’t cause a public disturbance…

But that’s the facts, I do this all on my own. AND I’m able to take myself to Florida for two weeks. I don’t go without, and yes, at times I worry about my dwindling dollars. But I know that ultimately, money means nothing. But credit is freedom. I can’t go grocery shopping until January 2010, but I will eat well on my vacation and Echo will be looked after while I’m gone. 

I work hard and I try my very best to keep this machine going as well as I can. If you were here, I’d offer you some wine and cheese, we’d talk and listen to an array of groovy tunes. I’d hope you’d get comfortable and cozy up by the fireplace.  This house is a home because I’ve made it so. Me. 

It’s not about how much money I have, but how I use it. I prioritize carefully, and there is room in my budget for $5 wine and $4 Cracker Barrel cheese (yummo!). I haven’t purchased new clothes in about a year, but my mortgage gets paid on time every month. I may wear the same things to work every week, but they’re clean. It’s a lot of work, but I think it very worth it.

One day it would be nice not to have to do all these things on my own. I would like to share all of this, the good and the not-so-good. One day… but even if I am destined to be the crazy cat lady who screams from the top of her roof, at least I can say I did something I’m proud of. Even if it was all on my own.

Oh and the irony is … got a call from a friend who needs a  loan. I know I’ll never it see again. Not that it’s in my budget, but I’ll do it anyway  because it’s been done for me. And I believe in that whole Karma thing… you get what you give, yes?

It’s a totally different ballgame to try and upkeep a blog when you have a job…and then go on vacation for a week. I haven’t been able to find my camera cord (I swear it just gets up and walks away) and so I’ll have to share my vacation photographs at another time. As a result, this post is totally out of order.

So in this moment, can I just share that I love being back at work?

I know I’m still in honeymoon stage, but everyone at the office seems really very intelligent and laid back, but not snobbishly so either. The work itself is fairly familiar, public relations at its best. I think as I get a better handle on the material, then I should be good to go and getting the results I want. Further, I’ll be able to start work-related goals. I know, just what you’ve been waiting for right? You’re riveted, I can tell.

Additionally, I finally found a volunteer organization that will work and I’ve signed up with New York Cares. I think I wrote that I signed up in the past, but the opportunities sign up incredibly quickly and it’s hard to find slots. But, at this rate, I’ve found that I can only realistically volunteer once every two weeks.

Now, I believe my greatest challenge will be to find a new place to live. As you know, I found a sublet in Williamsburg a few months ago and will no longer have said-apartment at the end of January. This means moving for the fourth time in 12 months. It’s exhausting. I’m tired of moving. In March, I moved from San Francisco to my parents house in the suburbs, then from the suburbs to Manhattan, then from Manhattan to Brooklyn. I would like this next move to last at least a year, or ideally two years, at the very least.

But where should I live? Rent is incredibly expensive. I could stay in Williamsburg, it’s a wonderful neighborhood — I like it a lot and it’s very easy to get around. I don’t particularly love being smushed up on the L and 4/5 trains each morning, but morning commute-smush is bound to happen. Additionally, the East Village is amazing. I lived there for a month while living in Manhattan. Actually, I was squatting there. It’s kind of a long story. Regardless, it’s the other place I enjoy. Truthfully, I haven’t really given other areas a chance and I’ve heard that Chelsea, the UES, UWS and other parts of the Village are great places as well. I guess it’s time to find a broker and/or start scanning craigslist again. Oh man, I totally just groaned with bitterness and then took a deep breath. Please let me find a decent place to live.

In short: if you’ve gone through this New York apartment situation or can help in any way in my hunt, please let me know.

The next post promises to provide pictures from my New Orleans vacation. Get excited.

Dear Thanksgiving,

I would like to give thanks for:

1. Ok, well, guys, let’s start here– I am in school. I am a student. This means I LEARN THINGS all the time! And it’s what I’m supposed to be doing! I show up, I learn some things, I go home, I think about some things. I do not make coffee or sit in a cubicle all day or dig ditches. And for that, I am grateful. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you love your job digging ditches, and for that I thank you. I need ditches in my life probably. For culverts and stuff. Those seem useful, even if I can’t think of exactly why.

2. …FOR POETRY. I am in SCHOOL for POETRY. This means not only do I live the life of a student– and seriously guys, in case you’ve forgotten, that means like 2-3 hours of class a day and then….umm….drinking coffee and playing board games, mostly– but as a student, my main jobs are to read some things and then to write some things. This is what I do with my life. In fact, this is what I get to do with three years of my life. I would like to thank whoever thought up MFA programs, and whoever decided they were a legitimate way for people to spend their time, and my parents for supporting my dreams, and my heart for dreaming, and “last but not least, the wonderful crew from McDonalds who spend hours making those egg McMuffins without which I’d never be tardy” (Clueless? Anyone?). Ok. Well. Seriously. Thanks. I will be in my armchair reading some more words on a page. And writing some other words down sometimes.

3. Cookies. Baking. Dancing while baking. (DANCE-BAKE.) That doesn’t link to a definition of Dance-Bake. It links to my friend Kristen. Who is the definition of Dance-Bake. Anyway, Dance-Bake is pretty self-explanatory. You dance and you bake. Or you dance while you bake. Whatever. Put on some music, make some cookies, see what happens.

4. New Friends. Including ones that like to talk about poetry. And dance. And bake. And tease. And go to the beach. And sometimes play board games with me: bananagrams, chess, cribbage, Jenga. Yeah ok, it’s an odd list, but it’s what we’ve got. Next on the list: backgammon. Also: actually learn how to play chess, not just memorize (mostly) which pieces can move where. I’m working on it, ok?! It’s hard. Cut me some slack.

5. A seafood taco truck. You heard me. I’m not going to even tell you where it is. But I will say this: $1 fish tacos.

6. Bagels. I have a lot of bagels in my life. I love it.

7. Hillcrest. I have a lot of drag queens in my life. I love it.

8. My apartment. I love it.

9. The restaurants around my apartment. This really counts under both “Hillcrest” and “my apartment.” But the restaurants! So wonderful! Deserve their own listing.

10. The Dog. She’s my parent’s, but I get to see her sometimes, and she’s soft and cuddly and will let you haul her around with you like a stuffed animal (a really, really big, patient one).

11. Family. Hi guys!

12. Books. Who came up with books? High five.

13. Food.

14. Doughnuts. The real ones, not the vegan ones. Or Donettes. Not real but I am grateful for them anyway.

15. Health. HEAR ME, WORLD? I am grateful for my health! After four years of illness, sickness, ailments, infections, whooping cough, I am HEALTHY. And I appreciate it every day that I wake up feeling like I can tackle whatever comes along, that I can commit to plans whether they be today, tomorrow, or a month from now, that I can take on an extra class or extra work hours or sign up for yoga and not worry that it will go to waste. I appreciate every day that I can walk around breathing easily and thinking clearly, every day my body moves, jumps, stretches, breathes without pain.

16. The ocean. I live near the ocean. I try to remember to go see it at least once a week. Just to sit with it. It makes me happy.

So Thanksgiving, happy you to you.

Another year, another turkey (it’s such a boring meat! what is UP with having the most boring meat the centerpiece of the biggest food holiday of the year?)

With thanks and blessings and yams with marshmallows (of course that is my favorite part, obviously),

MM

I have never been much of a TV person, but I learned to enjoy it simply because He liked it a lot.  We would spend time relaxing in front of the black box together.

Today, there was this big boxing match on TV, and we had long ago planned on watching it.  It was supposed to be a big deal.  A week ago – we were already facing this separation issue – I brought it up and He said that he had plans.

I ended up watching it alone, and it started out really badly.  Instead of enjoying the fight, all I could think of was Him.  Yesterday, when we said goodbye (for the nth time), he said he was flat broke.  He has a roof above his head for a week, at least, but he said he didn’t have any money to eat or do anything else.  I was (AM) worried sick, but I don’t have anymore to give, plus that really isn’t going to solve anything.

Sitting down on our couch, I could feel his absence so much.  Even now, I know that this is the way things should be for NOW; but that does not stop me from yearning.  That doesn’t stop me from being sad and lonely.  That does not stop me from wanting to be together again.

All this in spite of the fact that he says he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.

So today I went to get my hair done, and my stylist asked me the usual get to know you questions, and the convo went a little like this:

“So is it just you?”

-Yup just me

“You moved out here all by yourself???”

-Yeah, I have family around though

“So you have an apartment or…?”

-Yes I have an apartment, I love it!

*long pause* “…………….. by yourself???”

-Yes

Is it that shocking, really?

In matchmaking news, the other day at lunch the conversation turned to a wedding someone was attending this weekend. One of the ladies from the office mentioned that I “need to get on that”. hmmm right.

ps. I stumbled across these offensive+delightful cards in this cute shop downtown the other week. Fell in love with all of them and are now my secret card weapon for every occasion. Check out there website here. Pure genius.

Dear Dinner,

You and I, we haven’t always been on the best of terms. When I was a kid, I loved simple foods: aka toaster waffles, rice krispies, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Sometimes I could be talked into eating ham on whole wheat with mayonnaise. No mustard. No lettuce. No cheese. Dinner was hard, for both the chef and I– would I eat it or not? Would my mom cave and make me something else if I didn’t like what everyone else was eating? Could I get away with pushing my food around on my plate, loudly proclaiming, I’m Not Hungry….and then suddenly, mysteriously, be starving just before bed and eat toaster waffles (again)? Or would I get yelled at?

I had patient parents. And yes, my mom often made me something else to eat. And I was never sent to bed without eating, even if I had refused to eat at the time or prepared meal of dinner.

Now in college, just about anyone can tell you the worst dorm food of the day is dinner. And when you live in an apartment or a house for the first time, it’s pretty easy to get yourself a bowl of cereal in the morning, a sandwich or bagel for lunch and then….then you have to COOK. Or be really, really wise in your choice of roommates and really fond of doing the dishes.

I love doing the dishes. If you want to cook me dinner, I will do the dishes. I will do the dishes so well you will want to cook me dinner all the time. I will clean up the whole kitchen. Unless you’re my mom, then I probably abuse the system (hi, mom, I’m sorry).

So last year, out of college, I lived with a roommate who was a fabulous cook. I was dating someone who can look at a refrigerator and make a meal. My sister and her roommate made dinner almost every night. Plus I had Wednesday Night Dinner, where a group of friends gathered at my sister’s house every Wednesday and took turns making dinner. Not potluck! –we all took turns each week making dinner for one another. Then we played games or sang karaoke in the safety of their living room. You know you’re jealous, don’t try to pretend to be too cool for school.

And, ok, I know how to cook a few things at this point. But I knew, when moving to a new city and living completely, entirely alone for the first time, that the hardest part was going to be eating dinner alone. There’s just something about it. I grew up in a family where we all ate dinner together every night. Dinner, despite my best efforts to avoid it as a child, is a meal. You set the table, you serve food, you sit, you eat, you talk, you catch up on your days, you take a break from doing homework. My eyes are tired from looking at a computer screen all day, dinner is when I want to take a break and focus on the mid-range points of my plate and whoever is sitting across from me.

Eating dinner alone makes me feel lonely. What can I say? We all have our moments.

Also, I HATE grocery shopping. It’s confusing and nothing is ever sold in the amounts that I need it for and there are so many choices. Finding recipes for one person, by the way, is just not possible. They don’t exist. Recipes are made for four. And some are indivisible. Like when a recipe for four calls for one egg. And ok, once I open a can of something– tomatoes, pumpkin, coconut milk, chipotle peppers, chicken stock– if I don’t use it all, chances are it’s not going to get used. Unfortunate but true. I tend to decide what I want to eat, then find the ingredients, make that. I am not a refrigerator chef. I can’t just look at what I have and create something delicious. It’s a skill, a talent, one I greatly admire, but I’m not there yet. And don’t get me started on leftovers again.

So, now I am here, living alone, in the new city of San Diego, and eating dinner alone. Often. It helps that I really enjoy being in my kitchen. My kitchen is lovely. It has pretty little painted knobs on the cupboards and display cabinets at the end of the counters. I have a little table that sits just 2, or me with a couple of stacks of books, and a window that looks at my banana tree and out over a brick wall to more trees and buildings in the distance. And my kitchen has a plant, now, that sits against the wall and is green with reaching white flowers, and a map of Paris up over the stove, and the refrigerator has pictures of people I love on it. It’s a nice kitchen. I like to be in it.

Also, I have some tricks up my sleeve. When I really don’t want to cook and eat dinner alone, I go across the street and get a wood-fired Italian pizza. I sit in the warm skinny restaurant while I wait and people-watch. Or last week I knocked on my neighbor’s door, and carried my food into their kitchen and ate with them. Then we played cribbage. Sometimes, when I first got here, I would talk to my mom on the phone while I cooked and ate.

But I’m writing this letter, now, dinner, because I feel like you and I have healed some of our rift. In the last two-three weeks, I made dinner most nights. I made delicious, good-smelling food. I turned on music, and I looked up a recipe, and I halved it or not, and I cooked. I sat at my little table and I ate. I made good food and I had good dinners and I did not hate the process.

Like anything else, it took practice. But I’m practicing, and I’m learning, and hey– who doesn’t love learning something new? And I really, actually like cooking. And I like being able to choose what I will eat for dinner. Turns out I’m hungry at dinner time more often now, and therefore not so desperate for toaster waffles just before bed. All picky eaters should just be forced to learn how to cook.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to Seattle in a week, and I could not be more excited to have somebody else decide what to make, go grocery shopping, and cook. It is going to be heavenly. HEAVENLY.

And if you would like to have me over for dinner, I will do the dishes.

And, actually, if you live where I do and would like to come over for dinner– my table only fits 2, but picnics are always fun and I have a lovely circle of floor that would do. I can roast a mean chicken. And after tomorrow night, I’ll be able to make a butternut squash and potato pie with tomato, mint, and sheep’s milk cheese (thanks to The Wednesday Chef). Yep, when I’m trolling for ideas, I go to the food blogs.

What can I say? I’m a girl who likes a little narrative and some pictures with her recipes. I hope, dinner, that you and I will continue to grow in fondness and familiarity.

But first– today– something I will always love making and eating more than dinner: chocolate chip cookies.

xoxo,

MM

We’ve recently transferred to our new, insanely huge, insanely equipped, and insanely expensive hospital.  I like that it’s insane, but whoa, I am not kidding when I say “huge”.  It’s like one gigantic complex made up of three buildings.  The hallways go on forever.  And I mean FOREVER.  I’ve only been inside one of the three buildings, and I haven’t even seen all the floors yet.  I should’ve expected that though, since the whole place is located in GC, about 3 cities away from where I live.  The way I see it, a block in GC would be equal to 2 or 3 “normal” blocks.

Anyway, I’ve been taking the MRT to GC for the past week.  Commuting to GC isn’t much of a problem (even if I lose sleep waking up veeery early to beat the morning crowd), it’s getting home that drives me crazy!  You can’t help but want to kill.  Riding the train from Ayala/Guadalupe to Cubao during the rush hour is like going to war.  The MRT’s a battlefield.  Or a trash compactor.  You’d feel way more comfortable in a sardines can.

I don’t think I can take commuting to GC once we start on shifting schedules, so I spent about two months looking for a nearer place to rent.  I was lucky enough to find a room (at one of my friends’ house, oh yeah).  I love that her unit’s number is 133, same as the number of my house.  I’m moving out next weekend so I guess I have to start packing as early as now.

Bye bye family.  I’ll be home on weekends maybe.  I hope I don’t get separation anxiety.

Os 250 primeiros membros da página Living Alone no Facebook que enviarem email com seus dados completos de endereço para mailingvip@customeditora.com.br vão fazer parte do mailing da Living Alone e receberão a revista em casa, no aconchego do seu lar.

Aqui nós Também temos regalias, Living Alone em casa.

In-Home Senior Care: Dependence vs. Independence

Senior citizens are living longer and a growing number are choosing to age at home. In-home senior care services allow them to do so safely and confidently, seamlessly adjusting the services they receive to match their needs and health at any given time.

In this way, in-home elder care services help senior citizens age gracefully and maintain good health and independence at home for as long as possible.

In-home senior care services work in partnership with a senior’s family and can help avoid much of the awkwardness aging parents and adult children experience as they begin to reverse roles. Seniors and their families find that in-home care services help smooth the transition, enabling seniors to better accept the consequences of aging.

Seniors especially appreciate that in-home senior care allows them to retain a good degree of personal autonomy in the comfort of familiar surroundings, while their children feel more at ease with in-home care knowing their loved one is under the watchful care of professionals.

Seniors and their children can further smooth the transition by planning ahead and sharing their wishes for the future before a health event or other change forces the issue. At times of crisis, aging parents and their children are understandably stressed, making it difficult to effectively discuss possible lifestyle changes.

Adult children also can help the situation by allowing their parents to make as many decisions as appropriate about their care and to exercise as much independence as possible.

In-home senior care agencies offer a wide variety of services that clients can select as needed. The services can be tailored to provide whatever amount of help a senior needs to perform the activities of daily living. Services include:

· Companionship and care services, such as meal planning and preparation, light housekeeping, conversation and companionship, medication reminders, transportation, grocery shopping, laundry, and recreational activities

· Personal care services, such as bathing, help with mobility, incontinence care, toileting, feeding, and special diet preparation

· Technology services, such as monitoring and medication management systems to provide security and care for seniors when professional or family caregivers are not present

Many seniors needing in-home care have chronic medical conditions that require regular management, so medical home care agencies can work in conjunction with non-medical in-home senior care providers to meet a senior’s complete needs.

In-home elder care providers help seniors maintain connections with friends, as well as community organizations and hobbies that continue to give them satisfaction.

Elder care services also offer families respite services, taking care of a senior to give family caregivers a break from caregiving or to give them time to attend to other family or work responsibilities.
To read more about in-home care click HERE.

Muitas pessoas que, assim como eu, moram sozinhas, encontram ótimas dicas na revista Living Alone, que vão desde receitas para organizar jantares e fazer drinks, até sugestões de móveis para decoração e outras reportagens que são úteis tanto na hora que se procura inspiração para mudar o visual da casa ou do apartamento, até quando tudo o que desejamos é uma boa reportagem para passar o tempo e curtir o sofá de casa.

Recentemente, a Living Alone começou a divulgar reportagens de conteúdo exclusivo em seu PORTAL e no Twitter, que além de divulgar conteúdos referentes a revista e ao site, também interage com os leitores e “twita” atualidades da rede. Siga @Living_Alone no Twitter

Aqui Também tem dicas para quem mora sozinho