Insomnia and festivities

I am surrounded by my children, my daughter (USA) my grandson "Little Sunshine' also USA).and my charming son (from Germany). This kind of get-together hasn't happened in a very long time and sometimes it seems to me that I am dreaming. But speaking of dreams…I think that most everyone who is over-excited - like I am these days - finds that there is an undesirable side effect to even the most wonderful excitement which in such case keeps one from falling asleep. So I lie there at night on my bed and I think of the day which has passed, what we did, what we said, and what we are going to do tomorrow.

Usually, when sleep eludes me and I get up in the middle of the night, I visit my good friend, the fridge, full of expectation to be pleasantly surprised.. Maybe I'll enjoy a sip from the bottle of wine which has been there for ages and which I bought I can't remember when because the French drink wine and have healthy hearts. Truth is I'd really much rather have a glass of orange juice. Remembering my mother's wise teachings I should warm a glass of milk, stir in a spoon of honey drink the stuff hot and sleep would come promptly, she used to say. I am really too lazy to pour milk, add honey and nuke this cocktail. If I am particularly lucky, I may find that piece of chocolate which I hid from myself so well that I'd never find it until time comes round to clean my fridge very thoroughly. By then the chocolate would have reached ripe old age and I wouldn't be desperate enough to eat it!!

Every six months

When I phoned my dentist asking for an appointment, he exclaimed:

"Whaat? Have 6 months gone by already?"

He knows that I am one of his few patients who don't wait for a toothache to bring me to him but that I will put in an appearance every 6 months like clockwork.

However...6 months are not just a day or two and when I said hello to him I noticed that this last half year he had grown just a bit older and grayer. I immediately stepped into his bathroom and looked into the mirror trying to determine what those 6 months have done to me. Well, I couldn't say because my own face is just too familiar!

Tree hugging

Here and there a group of mystics give advice on TV on how to cope with the difficulties of life. Coincidentally I listened to one of those mystics the other day and I remained literally open-mouthed hearing his advice. He said:

"Whenever you feel that life is hard to bear, go to a park and look at the trees. Decide which tree attracts you, then approach the tree and embrace it. Tell the tree exactly what bothers you and soon all your troubles will leave you!"

So... the man says I should embrace a tree and ..wow, all my troubles will evaporate into the nowhere and I become happy as a lark.  Prepared to sing and dance!

My first day at the Towers

I sit with my friend Sarah in the cafeteria of the Elisha Towers. She seriously considers to move into the Towers, having lost her husband one year ago and both her sons living and working abroad.

"It's such a difficult decision", she says, "how did you do it? Tell me about your first day here, how did you arrange everything, how long did it last, who helped you?"

I smiled remembering my first day in the Towers.

Understanding and intimidation

All of us are quite familiar with the phrase "my wife doesn't understand me" or "my husband doesn't understand me" a statement usually followed by explanation and/or elaboration. Sometimes it is left to stand by itself in the hope of having found a sympathetic ear and thus eliciting a sympathetic reaction from the person it is addressed to.

This week I got a quite unusual variation on the theme when my friend Amanda came to visit and told me:

"My nephew doesn't understand me!"

Amanda's nephew manages a bank in Zurich. I've known him since his teenage years as a very smart and friendly young man. Now Amanda complains about him:

"You know that I practically brought this boy up, he got all the attention from me - and all the pocket money - or whatever else he did not get from his parents. Now he lives in Switzerland and I am here. I phone him about twice each day because I want him to be part of my life! I tell him that  my dentist has died and I don't trust my new one; I tell him that I have a new neighbor next door who speaks only Russian and who plays Russian music until late at night, and I can't sleep, and I tell him that my left shoulder hurts again and it will take 6 weeks until my orthopedist will see me! He is so short on the phone as if he would not be interested in my life and my troubles at all!"

Movies, a clean house and good weather

The last film which I took from Blockbuster back to the Elisha Towers was called "Love Actually". It should have been called "Disaster Actually". Once more I betrayed, although not intentionally, the trust of friends and neighbors and picked an objectionable movie for our Tuesday evening entertainment. At the Blockbuster studio, the young man had recommended the film saying:

"It's a romantic comedy, good-looking people, some misunderstandings, a happy end, what else could you want?"

Yes, really what else could I want? But as soon as the film started to roll I realized that this will go from bad to very bad! It was one huge and regrettable catastrophe. The action was not clear, too involved, events which were supposed to be connected were not connected at all, at least not to my simple mind. After the first few minutes people started to get up and leave, especially when a certain love scene was more than we bargained for. The lady next to me covered her eyes and whispered to me furiously:

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All about temperature

There is too much cooking on TV, I believe. I switch on the TV any time in the afternoon or evening and I always find someone there who is performing miracles in the kitchen. There must be many people who enjoy watching these culinary wonders, otherwise we wouldn't get so much of it! I personally could do with a bit less of kitchen activity I am sure! I look at the people who work there, they have so many helpful gadgets, three kinds of mixers, food processors, knives, pots and pans, not to mention a big comfortable kitchen! Then I glance at my own tiny kitchen corner and I think to myself if I would have all that electrical and mechanical help maybe my own production would also be so much more successful than the occasional dish I produce as per TV instructions which at the end turns out something else altogether! But maybe I am fooling myself!

Sleeping pills and can openers

One of my two drama queens was on the line:

...."and to make it all worse, my cleaning lady has left me! She left because she is getting married! Can you imagine? Not a word of warning! I didn't even know she was seeing someone! We used to be so friendly, she should have told me! Now I need someone to show me how to work the washing machine! My sister-in-law is in the hospital but thank God we are not on speaking terms so I don't have to visit her! Sam is still in China, he doesn't phone and his cell doesn't react. I am telling you, everything bad is happening to me this week, I can't find my  silver necklace and..."

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Wallowing in nostalgia

I sat with my friend Erica when she took out some pink wool and started to crochet. I have endless admiration for people who can do that, never having learned or tried it myself.

"What will this be?" I asked her.

"A dress for the little princess", she informed me, "I don't care what my grandsons are wearing but my grand daughter will always be dressed like a princess!"

The princess is exactly 3 days old.

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Story-telling

Ms. George is a well-known author. Her novels are rarely shorter than 700 pages and I often lose my patience with her endless descriptions, digressions, speculations, exaggerations, insinuations and metaphors... So reading that novel which I took from the library, suddenly my late husband comes to my mind. I used to tell him stories. Sometimes about what happened in the office, whom I've met on my way home and what we talked about, what was available in the shops, or what we should plan for the week-end. Just when I got into the real swing of my tale, he used to interrupt me:

"Now get to the point, get to the point, I'm in a hurry, I have to...". Well, whatever he had to! So... now quoting my husband: "Ms. George, won't you ever get to the point?"