I Can Be Yoko Ono

Ugh.

This weekend was weepy, creative, reflective, inspiring, tiring, escapist,
nutritious, and hot.

There were winners and losers, and the feeling of being lost.

There were cram sessions, pounding headaches, platanos, pancakes, and bling.

There were phone calls...my father left a message "I just called to say I love you" that was a tender rendition of Mr. Wonder's song. That started water works on Friday morning.

I got to do some web work with friend Sara and figured out how to put a pay pal button on a web site, which felt cool. Went to work to help some students catch up on makeup stuff, and that felt okay. I edited a video to summarize the visioning exercises we've been doing as an organization since February, and I went home after a tearful discussion with Megan having completed a 3 minute video and feeling totally drained. It was 10:30 at night. Thank God I chose to drive in.

Saturday I woke up with a headache and stared at the ceiling until 8:30 am. Then I knew I'd be late to my appointment with Mary Ann and called to apologize that I was having trouble motivating...

And I cried for the 40 minutes I had in her office. It started with not being served in the restaurant last week and then erupted to not having a two year old or being in the place to have one.

We talked that out. I'm making steps toward the stability I feel I need in order to even consider partnership, marriage, or motherhood.

And I am impatient, but even I had to recognize my progress.

I left looking for something to numb me.

The Germany Portugal game would do just that.

But since I was Verge-of-Tears girl, I nixed going to the Goethe Institute and embarassing myself to the tune of $3, crappy parking, and crying in front of people I knew. I hid under the anonymity of Alameda. I went to Speissekammer, ordered some Rotkraut, and watched the game. I hadn't seen Portugal play yet, but heard their brawl against Netherlands. I wanted to know who these brutes were.

Well, among them was Ronaldo. He was adorable. And had some beautiful footwork during the game. That took me in.

As well as Kahn's goalkeeping. He's not the wall, nor the sibling to David Hasselhof that Lehmann is, but he's a damn good goalkeep.

At the end of the game I went to my car and I drove home. I spoke with Meryl in Boston who reminded me that if I didn't like something in my life, I should change it.

I looked at my house.

It needed rearranging. I've been living sorta out of boxes and bad piles for 3 months now.

First I went to my kitchen (the clean haven of my home) and made a cabbage salad inspired by a recipe my mami showed me over Christmas. It's RIDICULOUSLY simple:

Mami's Ensalada de Repollo (Cabbage Salad)
Ingredients:
- a head of lettuce (i had a smallish one)
- olive oild
- fennel seeds

Okay, so mami just slices up the cabbage until it's lovely little strips of cabbage.
Then she slathers it a little bit with olive oil. Then she sprinkles fennel seeds for flavor and tosses. If you're in a snacky mood then and there, eat. Else chill and serve later. I added flax seeds for extra Omega-3s and nuttiness.

This salad is super easy, tasty, and refreshing giving stupid heat in my apartment.

While I cooked I received a call from Denise, who served as another therapist for the day. For 90 minutes she reminded me that I was a human being and the tension lessoned on my heart and head. Why would she spend 90 minutes of her precious life talking to me if I didn't have some redeeming qualities? My mind decided to believe her.

After chatting with Ms. Denise I heated up some leftover mole from Huarache last week and pita to dip in. And some grapes and nourished myself. I also made a smoothie of over-ripe bananas, fig (as sweetener), raspberries, and yogurt.

I sat down at my table crowded with nicknacks and along with a glass of Elderflower soda (A NEW FIND AND A REFRESHINGLY YUMMY FIND!), I filled my tummy. This lessened the crankiness of the head and the tautness of the headache.

Then I looked at my space and decided...I need to rearrange.

I took down a bookshelf that I was experimenting with as a faux-wall and moved it into the mudroom that is in the entrance of the apartment and stacked shoes on the lower shelves. I folded casual clothes and some odd boxes on it as well. That opened up my living room so I could do yoga again and I moved some of the piles into more sortable piles.

That felt okay.

I decided to nap on my floor, read more of my text book and take notes for Monday's quiz and sometime fell asleep listening to the BBC's account of the 3rd Place game and the Russian airliner that fell out of the sky killing 120 and seriously injuring 60. It was filled with kids. That made me sad.

Sunday. I wake up...and...I'm wondering...hey! I don't feel soooooo crappy.

I have 2 plantains that are getting black and Huy is having brunch for the final game...and Michelle and Denise and Joe are going to be there...and I have $6 for gas and toll. I think I can go and be human.

And I fried the plantains, the smell filled my kitchen and I loved the sweet smell of the maduros in my kitchen. I heated up soup for myself and enjoyed some of the salad.

I wrestled with my hair and put on the surrogate glasses that I have been using since losing my lens. They're not the right prescription, and they give me headaches, but at least I can not drive blindly with them on. Besides, they have snap on shades and that would protect me in case I had any ocular leakage going on.

The morning was marvelous. I drove, I had to refind my way to Huy's and had a little anxiety attack when I dialed and the signal was busy. I just heard Shakira sing, the game was about to start! My phone didn't receive reception...the spiral...I avoided the spiral by walking a little to get reception and calling and asking to be let in.

Disaster avoided...I was on my way to the Final World Cup game...