The Final Frontier

Here's the thing about celiac disease: there are so few things that you can eat that you feel like the things you're allowed to eat, you should be able to eat as much of them as you want. As often as you want.

Which, for me, means Frosties.

Because they're gluten free.

This is a revolution for me. In the Bread Years (as they will hence be known. I also considered the Good Years or the Tasty Years, but I digress) I would have a Frosty on rare, special occasions. Sometimes when travelling. Delicious, chocolate smoothness. Mmm.

But now?

Just don't be surprised if you see my ancient minivan, which resembles a sheep, pulling into the local Wendy's once a week. Or once a day.

Welcome to the Final Frontier. In search of all things Gluten Free. Especially Gluten Free things that are convenient, cheap, fast, and don't taste like cardboard/gruel/poop.

And Frosties so pleasantly fulfill every single one of those requirements.

Bless them.

Hiatus

It has been a long time between writings.

Because there are things I just don't how to write about yet. Because sometimes life is all-consuming.

Currently, The Spouse has taken Thing 1 to go ice skating. It has been much anticipated by her. I hope that she is having a wonderful time. She doesn't have enough "wonderful" in her life these days. This past Sunday, I walked with her into her children's class and saw the three little girls in her class sit down together, put their hand over the one open chair, and say "You can't sit by us. There isn't room for you."

And my heart broke into a thousand pieces.

Because I know these girls are good, kind little girls. Because I know that they aren't being mean, intentionally. They are just friends. And she isn't part of the group. But the lost, forlorn look on my daughter's face brought me to such a helpless, hollow place. I wanted to scoop her up and carry her out. I wanted to tell her that there would always be a place by me, for her. But I can't do that. So I pulled up a chair for her, gave her a hug, and left.

Things like that leave very little in me that is worth writing, and they seem to be happening a lot lately.

And, at the same time--not.

Because I've spent this evening with Thing 2, watching him while he watched his current favorite: Robin Hood. His chatter about the characters and laughing over the story. He is my Boy. And I'll take half an hour of sheer joy in exchange for a day full of confused temper tantrums. Any time.

So there really isn't any point to this post, except a simple "Here I am, and this is where I am." I feel grateful, at least, to have someplace to say it.

Day 159: Clementine, Chapter 18

"Where are we going?" Violet moaned, as she dragged her feet.
"House hunting." I snapped.
"It's hot." she replied.

I spun around, "Go home, then! I'll go by myself!" I shouted at her. She cocked one eyebrow at me and screnched her big blue eyes.

I turned on my bare heel and stomped off. It was quiet, but after a couple minutes, I heard her feet plodding slowly after me. I was glad. I didn't really want to be alone. I really wanted her to come. But I didn't want to go home because my Mom would be there, and I didn't know if she knew where Rose was. I didn't want her to ask me. I didn't want to know what they'd been fighting about. And I didn't want her to tell me.

What we needed was a new house.

So I rushed down the wide streets of the trailer park and past the brick wall that was the entrance to Meadow Brook, with it's burned out lightbulbs and flowerbeds that were tangled with weeds and pansies gone to seed. I turned left and kept walking for a really long time.

Violet didn't say anything. She sucked on her fingers, savoring sticky remnants of Twinkie. I marched past neighborhoods that I knew well, looking for something new. I wound past the busy streets of town and up into streets I'd never visited before. These weren't subdivisions. These were neighborhoods. The streets were lined with arching trees. The homes were made of brick--some of it so old that it looked crumbly. Perennial flowers were established, here. Door knobs were worn with coming and going. Old houses. Beautiful old houses.

I never let myself come wander these streets. As much as I could dream about a ranch home over in Willowmere subdivision, I couldn't even let myself imagine living in a home with old wooden floors, polished banisters, and narrow stairways. Houses like this weren't for people like us.

But today? I felt like that was just what my family needed. Maybe if we could live in that house, over there--the one with the wide front porch, then Rose wouldn't have to sleep in a closet sized bedroom and she'd want to be home more. Maybe.

Violet walked next to me as I slowed down. I finally came to a stop standing in front of a yellow house. It had a sharply peaked roof, gracefully curving stairs, and a wide lawn stretching to the road. Violet looked up at it and nodded.

"This is a nice one." she said. I sat down on the curb in front of it. "Yeah" I said "It's really nice."

And for the first time in a long time, I started to cry.

South Beach No Cholesterol Gluten Free Diet = Super Awesome-ness

Um. For those of you still checking in????

THANK YOU.

I know I've been a total slacker in the blogging department. It's just that the karma I've got going on right now? It's pretty amazing.

You all know about the broken toes.
I found out that I have celiac disease. (Thanks, Mom.)
And high cholesterol. (Thanks, Dad.)
I'm doing South Beach.
And I'm trying to decide if I should homeschool.

Let's just say that if I worked on Clementine right now, it would probably have a tragic ending, and no one wants that. *grin*

So--I have a goal to deal with my plethora of issues, and be back writing each day starting next week. I'm taking one more week off. Then I'm back, and I've got chapters stored up, so please come check in and let me know what you think!!

Day 158: Clementine, Chapter 17

I almost tripped over one of the throw rugs.

I was thinking about 1,000 questions, I can tell you that much.

What was Rose doing, asleep on the Finley's couch? I didn't know she even knew the Finleys, really.

And suddenly I was furious.

My father had stayed up, waiting for her. He had sat in our uncomfortable chair in the front room, reading about Egypt. He had been worried. And she had been at the Finleys??? This didn't make any sense. My adolescent mind suddenly had the urge to pull her hair, run away, break something, eat something, and laugh all at the same time.

I followed Mrs. Finley dumbly into the little kitchen.

"Twinkie?" she asked, holding out a limp paper plate with Twinkie halves on it. I shook my head. Violet looked at my out of the corner of her eye as she took a Twinkie and placed it on the napkin Mrs. Finley offered. We all sat down at their kitchen table, a nice solid wood dining room set crammed into the tiny space. High backed chairs and velvet seat bottoms. I saw Violet sneak her pills and then take a bite of Twinkie. I honestly think I heard it crunch.

Mrs. Finley leaned forward conspiratorily "Rose is asleep in the front room, so we have to be quiet." I stared at her. Her eyes twinkled. "I don't want to wake her up, poor dear." My eyebrows raised. I think they disappeared into my hairline. I'm pretty sure.

Poor dear????
Selfish beast.

"What's she doing here anyway?" I asked, bluntly. Apparently I spoke too loudly, because Mrs. Finley looked at me sternly for a second and then opened her mouth to reply, but a voice came from the doorway, "None of your business."

Mrs. Finley's mouth smacked shut and she turned to Rose, who was standing in a pair of jeans and a rumpled tank top. Her hair was standing up in all directions and I could still see lines on her cheeks from a beaded throw pillow.

"Is so my business" I said, feeling bold, "Dad waited up for you all night. I had to sleep in their bed."
She rolled her eyes at me and turned to ask Mrs. Finley if she could hop in the shower.

At that moment, I felt like my sister was a complete stranger.

Oh, for the love.

Two weeks?! Has it really been more than two weeks?! Good grief.

I was doing so well!
I was being so with it!

I was doing flylady and whipping my house into shape.
I was following my strict eating rules.
I was making my BED for crying out loud!

And then I slipped on my bathroom floor tile and jammed my foot into the edge of the door. And I didn't even swear.

I just hobbled out to the couch to inspect the damage, which--of course--was an open invitation for my two year old to come zooming over with nothing less than a tennis racquet to see what was wrong and he whacked my foot again. And I didn't even swear.

I gimped around for the rest of that day--managing to pull together Father's Day dinner, somehow. Trying to lavish The Spouse with the praise and attention he so richly deserves. Then the next day, a family birthday, I dragged my poor children to the urgent care to get my foot x-rayed. Yup. Broken. They handed me a massive blue shoe and a bottle of Lortab and wished me luck.

So I took my lovely blue shoe to Girl's Camp this last week, which required a lot of up and down, and popped Lortab to get through the nights with sweet twelve year olds needing one more story and one more tuck-in. I am a much nicer person on Lortab. I still notice the things that annoy me. They just don't annoy me.

Home from Girl's Camp. No naps to be had. And my bottle of painkillers is empty. So what else is going to happen but get a nasty flu? It's probably the swine flu. I wouldn't put it past me, I really wouldn't. And my HAIR IS FALLING OUT.

Out the window goes my clean house! Pass the chocolate! Drown me in chips and salsa!

Did I mention that I didn't even swear?????

Lortab and a broken foot

This is Dave, Becca's husband. Becca asked me to post that she's sorry she hasn't posted in a few days, but she'll post again soon. I'll fill in with a limerick:

I shouldn't have kicked at that door.
But I tripped on that thing on the floor.
Now Lortab's my friend,
So my day's at its end,
I just wish I could take a bit more.

Now you're all glad Becca is writing this blog and not me.

Day 157: Clementine, Chapter 16

When I woke up the next morning, no one was home. My dad was gone to the cherry warehouse. My mom sometimes stayed late to finish her charts from the night before. I knew that my dad had stayed up, waiting for Rose. I heard him call my mom at work around 2:00, and have a brief, muffled conversation. I lay in their bed, listening, but I didn't feel especially worried, and was even less so now, in the daytime. Whatever Rose's problem was, she would figure it out.

I sat on the vinyl chair, holding a mug that had King Vitamin cereal in it and skim milk. Stale King Vitamin cereal tastes like sawdust and cardboard. No offense to anyone who likes it. Just my opinion. I looked around our kitchen. The small oven with a dish towel hanging over the handle. My mom hated that oven because you couldn't fit a Thanksgiving turkey in it. "What good is an oven that can't even cook a turkey?!" she would bemoan, every November. Yellow marbled laminate was peeling off the counter tops, showing the cheap pressed wood underneath. I looked at everything as if it weren't my own home, but someone else's. If I were a visitor, what would I think of this place?

"But then," I thought, dumping my uneaten cereal and milk down the disposal, "who would ever come to visit?"

I didn't bother to put shoes on as I walked out the door and down the street. I hadn't visited the Finley's in a few days, and maybe Violet would be home and come with me. On the way, I tried to think of every possible trouble Rose could get into. I wondered if she'd shoplifted something from her favorite store at the mall, Wet Seal. Maybe someone at school had given her some drugs. Weren't there drugs at every high school? Maybe one of those drugs that is supposed to make you super thin. I guess it could be about a boy, although I never saw Rose with one boy more than any other. That was part of the problem of having a teacher for a dad--they all knew him, and he knew most of them. Who would want to date a girl if you'd failed her dad's algebra class?

The problems of high schoolers were baffling to me. I knew that high school was important, I had overheard my mom say "But, Rose--in high school, you're playing for keeps" at least twenty times. The grades you made, you kept. The clubs you joined and sports you played would determine what kind of major you had in college. You were playing for keeps.

As I got close to the Finley's, I saw Violet standing on the curb. I was glad. She smiled and waved at me, and I waved back. She fell into step beside me, without saying anything, and we walked up the ramp to the Finley's front door. I knocked on the glass and Mrs. Finley cracked the blinds just a bit, motioning for us to be quiet. She silently slid the door open and beckoned us in.

We slipped in from the sunlight into the darkness of their front room. All the shades were still closed. The swamp cooler was churning out humidity. I could hear Mr. Finley typing at the keyboard in his miniature bedroom, working on his family history. And on the couch, under an intricate and ugly afghan, Rose was sleeping.

Day 156: Clementine, Chapter 15

I knew Rose was in trouble because my dad said "Hey, kid, why don't you go sleep in our bed tonight?"

Which meant only one thing--he was planning to sit in the chair in the front room and wait for her to come home, at which point he was expecting a discussion that probably wouldn't be conducive to someone who was sleeping on the couch.

I always felt like waiting up in the front room would've been so much more of an impressive gesture if he'd owned a shotgun that he could lay across his lap. A shiny, polished Browning rifle, catching the gleam of the streetlamp as the door slid open.

As it was, I knew he would be sitting in the chair with his latest book. The touch-sensitive lamp on to it's dimmest setting.

My mom had looked hesitant as she headed to work that night, sending meaningful backward glances at my dad. I was bursting to know what they were all fighting about, but I knew full well that my parents wouldn't tell me straight out. I would have to stay awake and catch the discussion, that was all. Or wait until Rose was in the mood to vent while we were brushing our teeth. She did that less and less, though, so eavesdropping was my best chance.

I took a long, cool shower, to kill time. I would splay my fingers and watch the water run off the tips in little arcs. I used one of the guest soaps that was shaped like a seashell. I shaved my legs for maybe the third time in my life. Then I stretched into a long-sleeved t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. I brushed and flossed my teeth. Twice.

I sighed. And looked at the little digital clock by the sink. It was 10:00.

I walked out to the front room and found my dad with his head bent over a battered copy of Egypt: An Economic Geography. He was a sucker for the giveaway bin at the library. I kissed the top of his head and he smiled at me absentmindedly.

"G'night, love. Sleep tight."
I nodded, "Sure, Dad. Good luck."
"Thanks, kid."

I walked down the narrow hall and climbed into the sunken mattress in my parent's bedroom. I turned off the overhead light. I stayed awake, for the longest time, listening to the soft sound of my dad turning the pages of his book. I was determined to stay awake until Rose got home, to find out what they were fighting about.

But Rose didn't come home that night.

Day 155: Clementine, Chapter 14

We never found a meadow. Or a brook. We did find a pair of broken binoculars, a size 6 shoe, a whole Walmart bag full of cans to recycle, and 1,354 cigarette butts. Give or take a few.

I invited Violet home for dinner. She asked if my parents would mind. "They won't mind" I blurted, without considering.

I'd never had a friend home for dinner before. I'd never really had a friend home for any reason before. My parents would probably have a hard time concealing their giddy delight. Maybe Violet wouldn't notice.

Pushing open our glass front door, I called out "I'm home!" and walked into the kitchen, Violet on my heels.

I had interrupted something. I could tell. My dad was standing at the sink, twisting the life out of a dishrag. His face was composed into a tight calm. My mom was stirring something in a pan--her shoulders slightly hunched. She didn't look up. Rose was standing across from them giving her very best teenage girl "I resent authority" glare. I hadn't noticed how much she had perfected that art form before.

"Hey" I chirped, falsely, suddenly embarrassed by the awkward silence, "this is my friend, Violet."

My Mom jumped and sloshed something over the side of the pan. It landed on the burner and started to smoke. My Dad slapped a smile on his face that appeared genuine, "Well, hello, Purple! Nice to meet you!"

Violet wore a gigantic smile as she shook his hand comfortably. She looked so at ease. I snuck a glance at Rose, who was now glaring at the curling, faded linoleum. Her arms were folded across her chest, her hands balled into fists against her sides. "What's with her? What were they talking about?" I wondered. I never sensed tension like this in my family before.

My Mom finished wiping off the stove and turned, finally, to meet Violet. "Violet. Hello. We didn't know Clementine was expecting company." As she said this, she shot me a glare that said "Some warning, next time, please?" Trying to make up for things, I asked if there was anything I could do, to help with dinner.

"No. Just grab a seat. We're just about ready" said my dad, placing a bowl of lettuce on the table. Rose, letting out a sigh that was meant to be heard, stomped out of the room. At least she didn't slam her door.

Good. She was gone. We only had 4 chairs at the table and I didn't feel like dragging one of the living room chairs in. My mom put a hot pad on the table and set the pot on it, while my dad poured some milk. He even found some napkins in a drawer and put those next to the plates. I could tell they were trying to make things nice, because I had a guest. I would have to wait until later to find out what they were all fighting about.

Once my parents were seated, we started to dish up. Violet rummaged in her pocket and I saw her pull out another little wad of pills in a tissue. She popped them expertly into her mouth when my parents weren't looking at her, and swallowed quickly. At least, she thought they weren't looking. I could tell from a slight tilt of my mom's eyebrows that she had seen. Might as well get it over with.

"Violet has C.F." I tried to sound offhand about it. I hoped she didn't mind me just dumping it out there like that. I was watching for their reaction. Ever the nurse, my Mom's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. My Dad, of course, didn't skip a beat, "C.F.-- Clown Feet?! Oh, how terrible for you, Purple! Do you mind if I call you Purple? But I'm sure that you can special order shoes from the circus, right?" He shot us a wink. I giggled, and Violet put on a tragic air "Thank you for your sympathy, sir. It is so difficult to find shoes in a size twenty around here. Especially in green, which is my favorite color." I was laughing, stirring cheese as it melted into my chili.

Which reminds me, what was my mother thinking--cooking chili on a summer day? Two options: dings and dents bin at SaveMart or Special Buy at Big Lots.

I was relieved, now that they knew about Violet. My Mom would be able to explain it to me. And they wouldn't think she was bad for taking pills. They would know why she coughed a lot. They would make it all make sense.

Rose came back in the room. She was wearing her swimsuit under a pair of shorts, a towel over her arm. "I'm going swimming with some friends."

My Mom didn't even try to veil her surprise, "Swimming? Where?" There was the slightest hesitation from Rose, and I could tell my parents had sniffed it out. "At a friend's house. They have a pool." I knew my parents wanted to find out every blessed detail--whose house this was, what friend it was, if parents were going to be home, who else was going to be there. But I had a guest. They didn't want a fight. Violet was looking at them, with her wide eyes, so they finally just nodded.

"Home by 10:00." said my Mom.
"Yeah. Sure." said Rose, slinking noiselessly from the room and out the front door.