You Sass like you Breathe: September 2011

I'm a day late, but I still feel compelled to revisit where I was ten years ago yesterday, on September 11, 2001.

It was maybe my second week of high school. I was a brand spanking new freshman, sitting in my World History class, with a teacher that had a twisted sense of humor and a ski pole he'd bring crashing down upon your desk should you be caught not paying attention.

We were discussing the Roman Empire. As we looked at a map of Italy, my teacher told us their geography made it difficult for others to attack and thus conquer them, aiding in their growth as an empire.

To the North, the Alps. To the South, East and West, they were surrounded by water. An attack by land or water would be a hard thing indeed, and as you may know, air was not exactly an option then.

He then likened their geographic safety to our own.
The United States of America, protected by water to the East and West, and Canada and Mexico to the North and South made it unlikely we'd ever experience a terror attack, even, he said, by airplane.

It was after those words that there was a knock on the door. It was the tenth grade English teacher. He asked my teacher to step outside where they conversed in hushed tones for a bit, and when my history teacher stepped back into the room he said, "There's been a terrorist attack."

We all laughed.

We thought he was kidding.

He had, as I mentioned, a twisted sense of humor, and what were the chances that just as he said we were safe...the unthinkable happened? It seemed far too eerie for it to be a coincidence. It had to be staged...

But it wasn't. It was real. We sombered up quickly, though the whole situation was hard to comprehend.

I remember going to the library during lunch and watching the news footage on television. There were some other students and a few teachers there. I knew what I was seeing on the screen was real, but it didn't feel real. How could someone do something so evil? How could anyones hate be so strong? Ten years later and it still doesn't feel real. It still doesn't make sense.

It was a confusing and scary time, even from 100 miles away.

And now, from 10 years away, I know it is a day I will never, ever forget.

Today I am falling apart.

Or, maybe, it isn't really today that I am, I actually think I've been falling apart for the last week, and today just seems the culmination of the gradual apart falling-ness.

I believe I have mentioned before that I wear compression stockings everyday. If I haven't, well, now you know. I am an old woman. That I know I've told you. But anyway, said compression thigh highs have crapped out on me. As in, their little plastic sticky bands that are supposed to hold them up around my thigh, have snuffed it, and fall most awkwardly in a pool of hosiery around my ankles. Often, in public. Why yes, I have had to hide behind a display of noodles at the grocery store in order to "stealthily" remove the offending garment mid-shop. I have also had to do this at work, only there weren't any noodle displays, so I just tried to walk swiftly to the bathroom with my legs locked together so the stockings wouldn't fall any farther. You can imagine this was quite a show of public awkwardness, even for me.

Well! Lucky me! I remembered I had a garter belt I had bought my junior year of high school for prom, because I wanted to feel sexy. They are bright, fire engine red. So now? I wear them under all of my work clothes. Which means you can usually see the garter clasps mid-thigh through my pants, especially when I'm sitting down.

I am now, officially, an even older old lady.

Then, this past Sunday, I reached down to scratch my leg after showering, shaving and moisturizing, to find the lower half of both my legs covered in huge welts. I had done nothing differently than normal, and was a bit shocked...three hours later when they were still alarmingly there (but hadn't spread or gotten worse), I became convinced I had some sort of Grey's Anatomy-grade flesh eating virus. I put aloe on before bed, and magically, the next day, they were almost completely gone. I guess it wasn't a flesh eating virus. However, I still believe it is a very good indication of my completely falling apart. Just another step in the process...

And today, thus far, as it is only 9:18am, I am a complete disaster. I attempted to make my friend's Chocolate Salami recipe for my boss's goodbye pot luck today. My friend had made it, it was DELICIOUS, and so she gave me the recipe. This whole incident is the reason why I usually try and resign myself to cooking, and not baking or anything remotely similar.

For those that don't know, you basically mix up this chocolate and cookie batter, form it into long log, or salami-like shapes, wrap them in parchment paper and refrigerate them for at least four hours. Then you slice them, and they come out looking like little delicious chocolate slices of salami. Good right?? Right.

Last night I prepared everything, successfully made the batter type mixture, and wondered, "Gee, why is it still kind of liquidy? I guess I'll put it in the fridge for a while and THEN try to make the salami shape." Only this didn't work so well. Slopping the batter onto the parchment paper, I quickly had to try and wrap up the paper so the salami mix didn't go everywhere. It was messy. Then this morning, after refrigerating them all night, I wake to find they are still suuuuper mushy. Not one to accept defeat or having to make a pit stop at the grocery store for a veggie platter on the way to work, I decide to scrape all of the chocolaty, mushy, batter-y mess into a bowl, and dump an excessive amount of cocoa powder on it to try and make it become a liiiittle, eensy, teensy, tiny bit more like a dough. I say 'liiiitle, eensy, teensy, tiny' bit more like a dough, because after adding essentially the entire contents of the cocoa powder package into the mixture, it still was a sticky mush mess. But...sliiightly more moldable. So I took to forming the logs, which, let me tell you, look a lot like a substance you do not often like your food resembling, rolled them in confectioners sugar (so this time they wouldn't stick to the parchment paper), rolled them up tight (ALL before work, while still managing to get myself dressed and ready and here on TIME thankyouverymuch), and have since stuck them in the freezer here at work.

Let me tell you, these babies better work this time, or you will find me this afternoon in a brown, sugary mess on the floor of the cafeteria, sobbing, and stuffing my face with my Frankenstein of a chocolate salami creation.

No joke.

Then, after work? I am supposed to be attending a co-worker's sister's wake. Beyond feeling absolutely terrible for her loss (I can't even imagine losing my sister), I am a nervous wreck about having to potentially go down a receiving line. I do not know why the Catholics devised this little bit of torture, and maybe it is helpful for those in the receiving line (and really I do hope so), but I feel like an idiot parrot saying "I'm so-and-so's friend/coworker/classmate and I am so sorry for your loss" over and over and over again. Because they are never small families. Never.

Seriously, I feel like I am hopped up on adrenaline already, in a nervous anticipation for having to meet her whole family and awkwardly shake their hands, while repeating my scripted chorus ad infinitum. Because goodness knows, if I stray from the script and try and get creative, I will say something so preposterously idiotic, her whole family will think I am slow and, possibly, even an insensitive jerk face. I am just that awkward in social situations, especially ones that are intensely emotional.

And after the day I have been having so far, I am fairly certain I should not be allowed near grieving people.

So. I am hoping that the adrenaline from this mornings rushed preparations wears off, and I can get my head on a bit less crooked (trust me, straight is never going to happen), so that I can be a tad more graceful at the wake, and have some form of tact at the ready. Because I want to show this woman support, I feel awful for the loss of her sister and best friend, and would love my mind not to interfere with the sincere emotion.

Anyway. Later, when I cut up the Chocolate Salami, I plan on taking a picture, for better or worse, so you can see the creation in all it's whatever-ness. Wish me luck!

Oh! and! The preview for the show "New Girl" is hiiiiilarious! I'll post the video preview for it here and hopefully it works for all! I died. Not only is she super awkward (yes, it is Miss Zooey Deschanel!) but she totally reminds me and of my college roommate and myself. Like if we melded into one person. (we would totally make a really awesome melded person). For instance, we first bonded over butt-jousting, inspired by bees. It's like real jousting, but with spikes on your derriere. And also, well, I talk to myself profusely, and Zooey's character sings theme songs to herself, and my "flirty face" is an abomination to all that is seductive, so obviously the connection is clear.