It started out as a cold. Three weeks later it is mild pneumonia, or "walking pneumonia," as people like to call it. This is what happens when you are coughing up green chunky phlegm for weeks before going to see your health care provider. Also what happens when you don't take care of yourself is that you show up at a doctor's appointment for a cough and end up getting a pulse ox and an EKG because your heart rate is too fast (oh that feels too familiar...).
You know it is most likely because you are anemic since you never took iron replacement (even though you knew better) despite the blood loss from the c-section and subsequent six weeks of bleeding that followed. So you get your blood drawn, a prescription for an antibiotic, and a follow up appointment for two weeks.
Last weekend my therapist strongly encouraged me to take this week off from studying. Yesterday gave me a reason to not feel guilty for following her advice. Because taking time off simply for the reason that I have not had enough time to adequately take care of my physical and emotional health since George died isn't enough to ease my guilt about not being productive.
Dear Neighbor-Person Learning How to Play the Drums,
It is great that you have found an activity that you so obviously enjoying doing. I can say that with confidence even though we have never met because for the last two weeks I have heard you banging...I mean, jamming, every day from the hours of 2:00pm to 6:00pm. If you are really having a good time then you will keep going until closer to 7:00pm. I can tell you must be getting really good because you play the same riffs over and over and over again so I know you are getting lots of practice.
At first I thought you were playing outside, because how else could you be coming in so loud and clear in my living room? But now I think you are playing inside and that you leave your doors and windows wide open so you can share your love of percussion with the neighborhood. This is very thoughtful of you. If you didn't make me listen to your...umm...music, I would have to just sit here in silence while studying for a very, very important exam. I think you must have gotten the idea from our other neighbor-person who likes to repeatedly play scales for hours on his clarinet nearly every day as well. It is nice to live in a neighborhood where music is so greatly admired.
So thank you, neighbor-person who is learning to play the drums. I really, really appreciate your passion for music.
Sincerely,
Your biggest fan.
P.S. Just minutes ago I heard a new addition to our music-loving neighborhood. You have a singer to go along with your drums now!!! This is very exciting news.
So after nearly an hour of searching through online images of native southern Californian bird species I have finally found the name of the birds that have been hanging around outside of our apartment for the last couple of months. They're Northern Mockingbirds. Whenever I hear them singing I am always reminded of my grandmother's house and afternoon naps because I would always wake up to warm golden afternoon sunlight and their chaotic but beautiful songs.
Sometimes late into the night or early morning we can hear them singing, which is unusual for birds. But I discovered that the un-mated males, during mating seasons, will sing well into the night. The males are also fairly territorial and aggressive and we have seen them, on more than one occasion, chasing after crows.
Last night on a whim we went to see First Aid Kit play at a tiny little venue not far from our house. Two sisters, aged 17 and 20, from Sweden are probably most well known in the US for their version of Fleet Foxes' song Tiger Mountain Peasant Song.
This was the first show either one of us had seen at the Bootleg Theater (we missed Broken Bells playing there a couple of months ago when we went to The Magic Castle). Per their website it was originally a warehouse built in the 1930s which is now a space used for art, theater and music. I'm guessing packed to brim the place only holds a couple of hundred people so any show there is going to be pretty intimate (another pang of sadness for missing Broken Bells).
The second act, Samantha Crain, was one of those bands that as soon as you hear the first few notes of their first song you know that it is going to be a good show. Samantha Crain, the singer (and I assume primary songwriter) has a good energy about her, which is contagious and when they play it is hard not to want to bounce around to the music. Also the drummer is a girl. And she is good. I always appreciate a good female drummer as you just don't get to see them that often (I'm sure they're our there I just rarely get to hear/see them).
For the most part I wasn't too familiar with much of First Aid Kit's music, aside from the Fleet Foxes cover. I guess you could describe them as folksy. They definitely write and sing songs that make you think that they have experienced a lot more of life than is realistic for people at their ages. Which, I guess is why the average age of the audience member was a bit older than what you would normally see at any type of Indie music scene in central Los Angeles.
They did a beautiful job, even though it was obvious that they were a little jet lagged since they had just arrived in the US (for the first time) the day before the show. I would absolutely go see them again and would highly recommend their show to anyone else. Leif noted on our way out that this was probably the last time they would ever be at such a small venue in Los Angeles.
My favorite song of the night, Ghost Town, was possibly one of the best songs I've seen played live in a very long time. No mics, no amplifiers. Just two amazing voices.
Today is the day that I start studying for my board exam. I figure that it will be two months of full time studying before I am actually ready to take the thing. The last thing I want to do is fail it because then I couldn't take it again for another three months. No pressure.
I have to admit that my anxiety about taking the test is tied up in my heartache over George. Being alone, in silence, with a bunch of boring reading material is a recipe for disaster. My worst moments, those moments where I am so overwhelmed with grief and irrational thoughts,
If only I had made the ultrasound appointment for a week earlier....If only we had tried another intracardiac injection...If only we had not decided on comfort care...
are those when I am alone.
I can't help but be distracted and wonder how differently things should have turned out. Should. My favorite word. As if life should be anything at all other than what it is. I should have been able to have a healthy baby. I should be washing tiny little baby clothes and packing my hospital bag to be ready for when I went into labor. It should be very, very soon. I should be anticipating holding my son for the first time.
June 16th. June 16th. June 16th. June 16th.
Shoulds and if onlys will follow me around for the rest of my life, biting at my heels every time I see a child around George's age. How does one get over that part? How does one go on in this world instead of the one that should have been?
I have big feet. Not clown-like feet but they are large. That makes it very hard to find cute shoes that fit me. For months I have been trying to find a pair of casual oxfords and I have finally found them.
Well, I actually found them about a month ago but because I had only seen them online I was hesitant to purchase them. Rewind to yesterday. Leif and I were walking around Silverlake after some delicious tacos from Ricky's Fish Tacos and I stumbled upon them. I was pleasantly surprised because they were much cuter in person than I thought they would be. Sadly, and as usual, they did not carry my size so I had to end up buying them online.
I am looking forward to pairing them with rolled up jeans. Something like these outfits...
Sundays are my favorite. Slow, comfortable, grocery lists, the farmer's market and strawberry lemonade, the smell of clean clothes, the feel of crisp clean sheets at night...
It is artichoke season and english pea season. How much do I love dipping green leaves in garlicky butter? How much do I love the pop of an english pea? So, so much.
Oh, and it is time for sweet nectarines. Like peaches, only without the fuzz and with more tang. Like peaches, only better.
On the menu this week are dishes that fill our home with the smells and tastes of late spring and early summer.
Pasta bolognese
Steamed artichokes and salad
Spring green risotto with asparagus and peas
Nectarine, prosciutto, gorgonzola and arugula pizza
