Prescription Television

The white streak is dried Fluff. Ben. Der.

So, the picture above sums up why I haven't been blogging. I've been in a spoonful-of-peanut-butter-and-pile-of-chocolate-morsels-in-a-bowl-kind-of-place. I got back from RI on Monday night after several emotion-dense days (which may or may not have been influenced by PMS...same goes for the chocolate and peanut butter binge) and it was just too much to narrate at the time. That just seems to be how things are feeling lately.

As I type, just to catch you up, my mom is enjoying a nice getaway in Chatham on the Cape with my Dad. She's been vomiting steadily and her pain came back with some intensity, but after managing it with medication, my parents decided to skip town. She seems to be fighting a bit of cold (hopefully, that's all it is) so I'm not sure whether chemo is in the cards for this Friday, though whether or not my mom will opt to continue treatment is still a topic of much discussion; a discussion that my mom, dad and I sat tearfully around the table talking through while I was down there; a discussion that, sitting outside it for just this minute, I can't believe we are in. But, right now, she is taking in an ocean-view and I have retreated to my couch and decisions are second to life.

I find I'm beat when I get back to NH after my visits to RI. I have a cold sore (and, perhaps, a second one on the rise), what feels like a sty coming through (sexy, I know) and that scary tickle of sickness in my throat. (And just so we're really clear, every time I fall off the nutrition wagon as I have over this last month---EVERY. TIME.---it ends in illness.) So, I'm trying to recharge and treatment in this case has come in the form of back-to-back episodes of Mad Men. I had never watched this show (crappy cable, remember?) but we pushed through the first season in less than 24 hours and are just starting its second (via Netflix). Dan and I were both hesitant, skeptical of the hype as we often are, but it's a fantastic show. While feminism and sexual freedom are practically synonymous with the mid to latter half of the 1960s (and have been depicted to death on TV and in movies), Mad Men look at the sprouting seeds of these themes in the early 60s (and under the poodle skirts of women everywhere). It's a orgy of cigarettes, adultery, repressed homosexuality, alcoholism, sexism, sexiness, sexual awakening, sexuality in advertising and all the other makings of any seedy underbelly...I could write like 15 high school essays on this show. (All of this takes me away from cancer for a minute. We tried to get into the show Breaking Bad but as its main character is afflicted with terminal lung cancer, it didn't exactly provide the same service...and I had to shut that shit right off.)

There have, however, been other EXTREMELY IMPORTANT things going on.

First, and I can't believe I've been holding this one back, the neighbor is moving out. (I did it, guys. I pushed her away to save her from further hurt later on.) I got the news from another tenant in our building. (The one whom I once saw packing rifles into the trunk of his car...not to be confused with the one we saw skinning a deer outside our kitchen window. Two totally different people.) He also told me that our landlord's sister will be moving into her place which feels kind of like I'm getting stuck with the room next to the chaperones during the eighth grade Washington trip. I haven't crossed paths with the neighbor in weeks and at this point I'm hoping she will slip away silently in the night so we can avoid any awkward good byes and empty promises to keep in touch. Though, I do have a Bodyguard-like scene playing in my head where, instead of stopping the plane, she puts her Hyundai into park, and runs out to give me one last hug before driving away. (By the way, she's only moving to Portsmouth, so the chances of our running into each other again in life are pretty strong...what if I find out where she lives and this sick little game continues...it would be for my art!)

The second big piece of news, and I'm sure you're all aware of this by now, is that The Oprah Farewell Season has begun! That means I only have 127 chances (episodes) left to get on. (I'm okay with debuting on her new network though. I've gotten comfortable with the idea.) I have to say, I like the feel of this season; very nostalgic. I'm weak for depressing music and video montages so Ms. O is doing me just fine so far. I'll check in on this matter as the season progresses.

Other than that, I'm just breathing in the fall air and getting on with it. Splashes of reds and yellows are showing themselves in the trees and Dan has already started rolling out the fall menu: last week it was the creamy chicken and rice soup, this week it's "stained glass windows": a confection which involves rolling melted chocolate and mini marshmallows into a log (and rolling that in shredded coconut) and then freezing it. When you slice the log, the chocolate circles and marshmallows have the appearance of stained glass windows. Delicious, of course, but isn't it a little early for holiday baking? As I say this, I am noticing the makings for fudge sitting on my counter. God give me the strength.

Dan is home and Don (Draper) is calling my name (though it should be said that the red-headed secretary is the hottest one on the show and this is not me being biased...) so I am off because

If I should stay,
I would only be in your way.
So I'll go, but I know
I'll think of you every step of the way.

And IIIIIII will try to blog soon.
III will try to blog soon.