Our Apartment

There's something about living in a larger home that is at once appealing and yet diminishing at the same time. We have moved into a more commodious apartment, a two-bedroom that resides at the end of Far Rockaway, as far away on the A train line as it is possible to go. It is a seven story building, with a total of ninety one flats to let.

It is much different from living in Balsam Village. So far, we have spent about a month in the neighborhood. It used to be six apartments in the building, two apartments on each floor, where we used to live. A small garden apartment that was nice and cheap, good enough for poverty stricken college students.

But now, it seems as prospects are looking up, although the place we have chosen to live for the next year or so is undeniably poorer. That is all right though, for we are still very dependent upon the bounty of family goodwill until Kevin graduates.

To describe about the apartment, it is nothing of course in comparison to the lavish homes that I have read and dreamed about. Today I saw a luxurious Victorian mansion, perfectly furnished with all manner of gleaming woods and chandeliers. But it is a nice enough place for us to dream in.

The walls are all painted fresh, though there are dabs of poorly done splotches that show up in brightest sunlight. They are a creamy, antiqueish white in color that is complementary to what furniture we have. The kitchen is in between the two bedrooms, the junior office one is very well lit by two windows on adjacent walls, and has a small but deep closet that is currently stored with business books. Not much furniture here, only the computer desk and the litter boxes for the cats.

Our kitchen, which admittedly has seen very little cooking as of late, seems all brand new, and is a delight to the eye with its friendly white cabinets and black "granite" looking counter tops. We have purchased a little white wood cabinet that holds spices and food containers and letters and pills and other odds and ends for a pittance. On top lies the microwave and tiny Mr Coffee maker.

What I grandly call the master bedroom is usually rather a bit of a shambles, unless company is coming. Our walnut furniture set has got a number of knickknacks sitting all willy nilly, and our television on it. The air conditioner is blocked off with bits of old newspaper and plastic tape... not very elegant, but what is one to do with short funds? Clothes are normally strewn about the floor, usually with a cat getting hair over everything. A load or two of laundry always waiting to be done, and blankets and sheets are wrinkled and tossed about with wild abandon.

The large living room has dusty floors that are rarely swept, and a pile of books on every available surface (truly every room has a number of books scattered about, and most likely a cat as well). A dirty glass here, a small plate with crumbs on the dining table. But it is homey and pretty to look at nonetheless, with the sheer white checkered curtains by the two windows, and plants in pots shining verdantly in the sun. It would only need a cheerful tablecloth, a vase of colorful flowers or two, some candles, much cleaning, another comfy chair, perhaps a coffee table and some tasteful pictures and shelves to put it to rights.

Overall, we are very happy here, though there is not much to do here. But at times we go to the beach at night, when there are so few people about, and it seems worth the small bit of discomfort and lack of amenities and lively things somehow. Also, the privacy is wonderful. One doesn't really meet one's neighbors very much.

It does get lonesome when Kevin is gone, particularly on the nights he comes late from school. It is a pity how long of a commute he has, and I will relish the day when we can move to a nicer neighborhood with a closer commute, but for now this seems like a good place to dream for a while, and to spend the first year of marriage together.

Sunday Night Menu

Macaroni & Cheese
(actually used about half a box of curly Rotini)
boiled in a pot with a tablespoon of olive oil and plenty of salt

mixed four tablespoons of butter & two of milk, salt pepper parsley, and five melted cheese slices of Kraft

half can of spam cut in cubes and mixed with Rotini
tablespoon of olive oil

Garlic Green Beans

bag of French green beans
three tablespoons of sesame oil
salt, pepper
crushed garlic aplenty mashed with a spoon of butter

all fried in a pan

Barbecue Sauce Marinated Chicken

1 and a half cup of veg oil
2 cups of barbecue sauce (Sweet Baby Rays)
parsley, oregano, salt pepper

4 chicken breasts
marinated for about 2 hours

will cook in pan



Some soul food for a rainy Sunday... will enjoy with a perfect neighbor and a loving boyfriend.

My Weekend

Listening to: Sorry Sorry Answer & Good Night Moon

It wss a stressful weekend. Surely not the type of weekend you'd dream about, but it made me appreciate our home even more.

On Saturday, Kevin and I were picked up by his parents to have dinner & a mentalist show with them and some church friends of theirs Tony & Dian. I was looking forward to it, even though we had to haul two bulging sacks of laundry and do them. Speaking of which, I still have to fold a huge bag of clothing, but that's for a bit later.

Anyways we went to see the mentalist, a pretty cool man named Dr Mike. He was pretty amazing at his work; Kevin and his mom were chosen as volunteers. We had some cake and coffee, the standard Lutheran type of fare, but the cake was really good for a box recipe, with vanilla frosting and green sparkly sugar. We all had a nice wedge of it, and chatted, Kevin won a beach bag with some chips, soda, and a kite and some other beachy toys.

Then we had to stay overnight, and it was just kind of an ugly night. Kevin got into a mood over a secret drawer full of rather unsavory and embarassing items, and was disagreeable.
Neither of us could get a good restful sleep- we missed our comfortable bed and just the smell of our home.

We had an argument because Kevin was rather short and rude when I tried to discuss his work. Perhaps it was really my fault, men get testy about their work. I was really distraught; I went up on the loft bed, despite the crawling spider on the ceiling, and looked up directions to walk the 12 miles home at midnight, because well, I just felt so uncomfortable and unhappy. Kevin just turned into his covers on his side, and ignored me pretty much. I admit I acted ugly too; I gave him a sharp kick in the back, and we exchanged hateful remarks. It was more than upsetting. I even printed out directions and snuck out, but something stopped me. That was really because I felt that Kevin didn't even care that I was leaving, and he hadn't even noticed I was gone. I was piqued, and also I didn't want to lock the door behind me in case I had to come back. That would have been a humiliating scene. I also didn't want to leave it unlocked.

So I went back... we had a quiet make up session and stayed up until around almost five am. Then we woke up relievedly about 2 hours later and returned home.

Where we found that our kitten was lost. Thirty minutes of my life were just horrid... I ran about from the house, and outside in the pouring rain, calling for Nelle and crying, waving a sparkly banner stick. It was embarassing and more than that, just so heartbreaking.

Finally I checked my phone, and saw Renee had called a lot. My heart leapt a bit from its drenched state, and I immediately ran upstairs and pounded on the door. Luckily, Renee the Angel had our baby, who had been locked out before we left last night. She must have ran past our feet without our noticing. She spent a warm comfy night in a soft flannel bed, digging vigorously in various large pots, and ate herself rotund on dry food while her parents were upset and distraught by turns.

I was so grateful and teary, Renee and I had coffee and talked.
I've volunteered 55 hours of my time this week for another $100 because I do adore Melanie and Ben is quite a good kid, or could be with some work. It's exhausting to look upon the week to come, but overall, despite all this, I'm just so happy to listen to the rain pouring down all day from my own home and just have my cats and boyfriend safe and sound, even if they do break my heart at times.

It's more than a lot of people have, this kind of weekend.

Weekend

On Saturday, we went for a longish walk. Back and forth, it must have been 2.4 miles at least.

The sun was out, we walked past the wonderful old cemetery that I think of as a proper cemetery. It sounds odd to describe a cemetery as wonderful, I suppose, but it is. I love the old stone walls, slightly uneven, and with tons of greenery growing over it. I love how the grass isn't perfectly trimmed, and the headstones are old and atmospheric, though the original purpose of the headstones of course is somber. But though the stories told on those tombstones are sad, it adds beauty and piquance to the whole scene... time chips away at grief, and removes the rough outer layer, leaving behind a smoothed and beautiful thing.

We bought new curtains, on Liberty and Grant. Lovely Curtain II on 1195 Liberty Ave to be exact, and the ABC Discount Store. We got curtains for the kitchen and bath, the bedroom and the living room, along with three curtain rods. Pale silver and beige and black for the bedroom, nice and discreet with just a touch of elegance. Bathroom and kitchen are one set, a cheerful set of black and white curtains with happy cows on them. And the living room ones are a very exotic light orange shot through with silvery and gold threads. Hopefully they'll set off the pale yellowy-orange walls of the living room.

Anyways it was a lovely day. We had Marguerite come over around 8 on Saturday, and she stayed till Monday... lots of long conversations, fun games, and cheerful dinners. We dyed my hair, and talked talked talked. It was great. I cooked meat loaf one night, with Renee in attendance on Sunday, and for breakfast that day Marguerite cooked us all some lovely scrambled egg and cheese rolls.

I really want to see her again soon...

Changes

It's been a month of many changes, although I suppose it's what's considered to be little things, just tiny seeds of changes blown my way.

One thing that hasn't changed is my owlish behavior, I guess. I still find it the most intriguing time of the day, when all is quiet. Well, nothing is ever all quiet here in the city, but still. The lights are out, except for a few windows in the distance, you can hear a few crickets making pleasant music.

In other words, I still can't sleep early.

Without being cliched, I've begun to change a bit. Not mind bogglingly, but I've met new people, and reconnected with old friends.

I'm happy to be where I am, though there's still bits and pieces of problems that come with day to day life. I can't help but think what a lucky girl I am, even if I have the occasional head to head with Kevin, and the old cloud of depression descends on me from time to time.

Right now I'm a little sad, although we had a nice dinner with our upstairs neighbor Renee. Perhaps it's a bit silly... I just feel like there's beginning to be a new feeling to the household. Ever since I brightened up a bit, started to become more busy and housewifely, doing nearly all the chores by myself and socializing and able to hold my own, I feel like Kevin has become more and more dependent on me being that way.

Today coming down from dinner, I remarked that it was starting to smell in our apartment and that we should change the litter boxes. With four cats, it really should be done regularly... Kevin said decisively to the negative, and despite many pleas (without a touch of acid in my tone, I might add) he refused.

Now he used to be a lot more open and would help me out with chores, but it is as though since he's fulfilling his part of the bargain, which is earning more money and keeping us comfortable, Kevin is suddenly exempt and does not have to keep me company while I do chores. I admit that in the past, I've been lazy and just let him do everything.

I just feel like, I'm still working on myself, I'm trying to be good and I have been good. And I just unloaded my chest today about some private things that I've been keeping to myself because I guess inwardly I didn't want to burden him with. It just seemed so unappreciative and uncaring for him to just fall asleep... it wasn't so much about the chore I did not want to do, but it's going to be our anniversary soon, and I have been doing so well... baby sitting, having guests over, cooking nice dinners, cleaning the house well enough so that it's a pleasure and not an eyesore... he just could have helped me carry the boxes over, kept up a friendly conversation or something.

But Kevin just flopped over on the bed, pulled up the covers in a nice air conditioned bedroom, while I was obviously fuming and sweaty, lugging the smelly excrement filled boxes and cleaning them, hauling out the garbage, washing the dishes, the kitchen. Without even a peep at me.

I understand he's an amazing boyfriend by a lot of standards. So what if he doesn't have a romantic bent and gives excuses as to why he isn't so romantic? So what if he considers the only way a man can show romance is by pulling out his wallet, and spending the contents? He is great. I know. He is faithful, he brings home the paycheck, supports me, provides me with sustenance and the roof over my head. I feel great contentment because of him, I don't have to worry about paying bills.

I guess I just feel that because of these reasons, he's starting to feel exceptional compared to the boyfriends that other women talk about. It's true. And yet, I feel anxious that suddenly he no longer feels obligated to be as supportive, because he really does seem to equate financial stability to happiness and a good relationship.

Maybe that's a bit of an unfair assessment, but it's true.
He'd be the first to deny this, in fact he has... but the seeds of thought are in his mind I know. He thought, I am tired. I have done well this past month, I have been a wonderful boyfriend and it's all adding up. I can let this one little thing lapse.

But he didn't take into account that it hurt me. It may be just this one little time, but it only takes once to start building a habit.
This is a change I just don't want.

Quigley

It happened on December 13. Just three days ago.
We never would have guessed it would happen so soon.
Quigley, our dearest little gray kitten, passed away as I saw my first snowfall this year. He was not even five months old yet.

He had an incurable disease. We're not sure exactly which one it was, it was one of two fatal diseases, but we had no idea. Apparently it was hereditary. His little kidneys were taking up far too much room in his tiny tummy, a tummy that I adored from day one for it's silver and white smooth fur and bright black dots. He would have starved to death, and felt much pain before dying in a few days, so we made the choice to put him to sleep before the disease took him on a more painful journey.

But dear god, we had no idea, even when the facts must have been right in front of our faces... he hadn't grown much at all. He was thin, and still so small at 5 months when he should have been plump and round. In the last two weeks before that night of the 13th, we had noticed he was rather sick, but we thought it was a cold. Something that a batch of antibiotics and a few nights' sleep would cure. Even when we took him to the veterinarian's office, we had no idea that we'd be carrying home the cat carrier without him.

Because he was still so loving. Even while he must have been feeling so weak, he still ran to the door like a puppy when we came home. He would jump on the bed, a high high bed, if we called for him. He liked to be carried around all the time and would cry if we left. We figured that sick cats, really sick cats, just hid all the time. We didn't know that he waned to spend the last days with us, to make the most of the short short time he had left...

Quigley was a special cat. When we got him, he was so happy to be out of the small cage teeming with other cats that he pranced about for hours on his skinny little legs. At that point, his eyes were bright and happy. He played for hours every day. He loved a dog toy best of all, a toy that was larger than he was. He'd wrestle with it on the bed, and if we tossed it off, he'd go fetch it and come dragging it back up. He liked being in my shirt and being with me all day, no matter where I was. He squeaked so cutely, and ate voraciously. He loved everyone who came the moment he saw them, and everyone loved him...

He was the dearest cat in the world, and I wish I could have seen him grow up to be a cat. I wish we could have had years together, where I could have really gotten to know his personality. I want him to have been so big he'd make my arms ache when I held him, and for him to annoy me in the kitchen all day long, begging for attention or treats. That'll never happen now, and I know it.

I love him still so much it hurts... I know I always will feel this love and the pain. But what eases his passing, to me, is that I know he died without ever knowing fear or betrayal. He died only knowing happiness, and trust for all humans. He never knew anything but the warmth of loving arms and gentle fingers. He said goodbye one last time with his habitual kiss, he loved kissing and touching noses, and his eyes, which were half covered with the third eyelid, seemed to say that he loved me with all his heart too, and that it wasn't our final parting. We'd see each other again, in so short a time. But mostly there was just that love.

And so he must have died, on that quiet December night, where the snow fell so gently and meteors fell early the next morning with a brilliant light. I like to think that God was celebrating to receive back the perfect little animal, and giving the world some beauty to replace the light that Earth had been depleted of.

To him, it must be that he just drifted off to sleep and woke up in a brighter, beautiful place where he doesn't feel that awful weariness and that cold. He's in heaven, and he's waiting for me, I'm sure, and I know that when I get there, his face will be the first one I'll see, and the first kiss I get will be from his healthy, non-leaking little nose.

Quigley, I love you. I miss you. I'll see you again, one day, probably far in the future, but nothing can convince me from the belief that we will be together again.


Rest in peace.
August 19, 2010 - December 13, 2010

Milky

Happy nineteenth birthday Tatyana!

I know you won't see this, but I thought of you today, and I think of you often.
You were a good friend, the best, in many ways.

Well I won't go on and on, but here's a bit about Taty.

I called her Milky
(I was her Cake)
She is a Scorpio
She is a GREAT friend
She was the kind of friend who stayed up all night
to work on a project
for all the little crises that occurs in a teenage girl's life
or for no reason at all
She had thousands of songs to suit any occasion
She would dance in the streets
She loved dangly earrings
and shirts with no arms
and bright bright things
She's the kind of friend that you can trust
after 3 years of not talking
to she'll hug you the same
with her strong skinny arms
as if you'd seen her yesterday.
not to ask questions
not to accuse
she accepts you as you are.

So thank you for the days, the memories
My dearest Milky Tatyana
You deserve the best birthday
I wish you many more to come, each better than the last.