The Grove Part II

I am continuing on my Grove-obsession vein because I want to write more about this place and the fact that I met my friend - Little Green - there the other night and it was for want of a better word, perfect.

I call her LG because 1, it is almost like her name and 2, it is the name of a Joni Mitchell song that I adore and 3, because JM gave up her daughter and regretted it forever and my LG didn't have the easiest life but is one of the most fantastic people I know.

So me and LG meet at the Farmer's Market. To go back a bit, I got to the FM earlier, because I like to look at the shops and browse - especially in the knick-knacky Anthropologie which is every woman harking back to yesteryear's special place.

Of course, I am standing there and suddenly the piped music striks up extra loud "Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow!" And snow it does.

The Grove is a shopping Mall which is outdoors - like a fake street. Like a Disney idea of what a street in England would be like, with smoking and alcohol. Everything is a little bit jumbled up (on purpose of course), parking is discreetly hidden from view, there is the aforementioned piped music as well as a fountain which whizzes around in time to the music. It is a shopper's paradise and I am crazy about it. Well, I am crazy about it some days.

So, here I am enjoying the bizarre spectacle of snow on a warm, December evening with a fountain going nuts to Christmas tunes and of course the irony of LA kids seeing their first "snow" a a shopping center and I suddenly get hit with the massive realization that it is Christmas time and I haven't got a dot.

My period still hasn't arrived and I feel like the whole dot part of my life was just a dream. The no-show period is making me feel barren and horrible. I can't believe I was supposed to be four months pregnant by now. These feelings give way to deeper-held sadnesses connected with Christmas. I am so glad I can ignore them now in some ways by not celebrating this melancholy holiday. I realize it is the absence of what this time is supposed to be about that makes us feel all the worse when it comes around.

Luckily for me, as I standing, surrounded by fake snow and little kids and pregnant mommies and feeling lost and lonely and plunged into darkness my Little Green calls and says: "I'm here!"

Thank the lord! I rush to her and she is, of course, in the sticker shop being kind and thoughtful and as delicious as ever. We get stuck into our favorite Balinese food and chat and crack up.

But the best bit for me was when we were walking with the thin mommies, bemoaning the fact that we are collectively 30 pounds heavier than we were a year ago, LG says: "I don't know about you, but I'm still hungry". I love her.  

Shopping takes a toll

So yesterday I did the fastest holiday shopping in living history. I ran to The Grove and bought things for my nephew and nieces.

The reason why I did it so fast was because, even though I am totally fine with the physical aspect of the miscarriage, seeing pregnant women, little kids having fun and people merrily running around with their families still reminds me of the big hole left in my life after dot went away.

I cannot believe how many women are pregnant since I had the miscarriage. They are everywhere. I guess it is the same sensation that I had after my dad died. You see a walk, a piece of clothing and whumph! there is dad. It is a strange, sickly deja vu sensation that does not feel good on the comedown. A bit like the dreams where you've passed your exams or won the lottery, only to wake up and realize the exams start today and you still have debt up to your eyeballs.

But, like everything, the hole is slowly closing and each time I see a pregnant woman while it feels not great and it makes me sad, it is nothing compared to the way it felt a month ago. I have stopped counting the days I haven't been pregnant and I have stopped feeling such a failure. Like my poor, cut thumb, I am starting to heal.

I ran into the Grove and of course had to go to American Girl Place. Oh my, I can't imagine what I would have been like as I child if that store had existed, and in England.

Girls can go in, buy a $100 doll that looks just like them and literally all the acoutrement of life for that doll. Including a doll for the doll that looks just like the doll. Confused? In addition, your own daughter can have clothes that look exactly like the doll's. I love this store and, in addition, it is a marketer's dream.

Check up

So this afternoon is my final check up after the miscarriage and the D&C.

The bleeding has stopped, finally, after about a month. At one point I thought it was never going to end, but it did, and I am glad.

I have to say, one of the weirdest things about not being pregnant is realizing how weird you feel when you are.

I am back to "normal" now. I don't have that hangover-without-being-drunk feeling, or the rolling-around-on-a-ship feeling. It actually feels good (I feel guilty saying this) to feel normal again. But, being pregnant is really hard work. It looks so nice and yes, the hormones definitely buoy you up to get through it but, my God, it is difficult to carry on your normal life while you feel like you are wearing someone else's glasses and the world is tilting in all kinds of directions.

Today I will go and see the lovely Dr. C and get the all-clear. I am actually looking forward to seeing her. Being home alone all day you realize how much you appreciate people and conversation. But I wouldn't swap it right now for work and a ton of conversation to be honest.

After this I am hoping that Z and I can get "back on the horse" as we keep calling it. So me and Mr.Ed will be trying again as soon as possible - watch this space.

Giving Thanks Etc.

So another Thanksgiving has passed and gone. I think I am getting in the swing of this now...Summer, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Christmas. 

Either way I am eating way to much.

So, the big day of Turkey actually turned into something of a marathon of eating. We spent the time with our family up in Santa Barbara and had thanksgiving with people we didn't actually know. The family we stay with don't actually eat meat. They eat fish, just not meat. So, we ended up eating the turkey with some friends of theirs. Food was fabulous.

As a Brit, the whole idea of Thanksgiving is something like Harvest Festival a pagan rite turned Christian that takes place in the UK. But, the difference is HF is spent at church, bringing boxes of food to the poor and putting them at the altar or wherever and saying thank you for having food in first place. I remember we used to sing hymns like: "We plough the fields and scatter..." which, when I read it like that sounds like we plough (US version plow) the fields  and then run off. Ha ha.

So TG is so much more fun. It is very similar to an British Christmas without the presents. Turkey, gravy, sleeping, movies on TV - lovely. If we had it in Britain it would be something like a rehearsal Christmas. 

Of course, I realize there is much more significance to TG than just turkey, as there is Christmas than just turkey - and gifts - but I think we all know what is the fun part.

Now I am Jewish I look forward to Hannukah which means just one gift and lighting the pretty candles for eight nights. To say that I have relief over not having to stress about Christmas now is the understatement of the year. This year, we plan to spend the time quietly - the Jewish way - watching a movie then, if we can find a restaurant open, having dinner. 

Of course, I am being facetious, but it is something interesting to ponder over - growing up with one set of holidays - Easter, Whitsuntide, Harvest Festival, Christmas, to exchange them for another - Purim, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hannukah is a very interesting way to live your life.

Thumbs Down On The Knives

They say bad luck comes in threes and I am hoping to God that this is my third piece of crap.

Over the weekend, we bought knives. Z wanted the really, REALLY expensive ones but I was happy with just the very expensive ones. I am sure that stores do this on purpose. They give you choices. The "cheap" choice is actually expensive, except it doesn't seem expensive because it is less hideously expensive than the other two choices (for example).

That way, when you plump for the first, expensive but-seemingly-cheap choice you feel like you are being cheap. Even though it is expensive. Right?

So, Z and I went and bought new knives. Our old knives were just not cutting it any more (apologies) so we thought we would take our wedding gift certificates and buy some good ones. We ummed and ahhed about which ones to get and ended up with the not as expensive ones.

We brought them home and last night was the first time we (meaning me. Meaning I?) used them.

Of course, I was doing two things at once. I was fuming to a friend on the phone and chopping lettuce with vigor. And then, chop, chop, there goes the top of my thumb.

Now, I don't know whether you have ever done this before but it was fascinating to see exactly what a freaking sharp knife can do. I went through the top of my thumb like butter. And then, very much like me, I said to my friend: "Umm, actually, can I call you back in a minute, I've just cut the top of my thumb off," - I didn't want to be rude.

My friend who is afraid of even having her blood pressure taken shrieked:"Oh my GOD, go, go". So I took my thumb and ran to Z who was working out with his trainer in bare feet and in pajamas and said: "I think I've hurt myself". Of course I was very brave for about an hour and then it hit me and I had a small pity party and started to cry.

Z apologized for being a bit of a douche, which he was, and I went to sleep. Thank God for those painkillers Doctor # 3 gave me for the home miscarriage.

So now I am off to see another Doctor to get my thumb fixed. And all in time for Thanksgiving.

 

Monday Morning Not Blues

God, I can't remember a Monday being this stress-free - I love it. I spent the morning chanting in my head and cleaning the house.

We have a fabulous new cache of art work, thanks to my in-laws so I am now whooshing around the house looking at it and loving it. No signs of sadness about the Dot today so far or about my first day as an unemployed person.

I want to reflect on this for a second. I have never, ever been laid off. Actually, that isn't 100 per cent true. When I was 15 I had a job in a corner shop (a small bodega I guess) in England. The boss was a bit evil if I remember and I had one job that I hated - unpacking the bananas. I would brace myself and go into the back room, unstack the boxes and start to take the bananas out. I was constantly think about the huge tarantulas that were about to crawl out on me (I have no idea if this was true by the way). Plus, I had to peel off the gross pieces of paper that are stuck to the stems of the banana fingers. They stink. In fact bananas kind of stink period. I hate the way that they go bad so quickly. 

So, this, alongside the fact that I would invite my friends to come in and chat with me (one of which went on to become a famous pop star - I wonder if she ever got any of her lyrics from her days spent chatting with me at the counter?) and that I dropped a bottle of HP Sauce and it smashed on the floor, meant that they didn't want me back after a few weeks.

With that job, as with this one, I didn't sweat it too much. I am amazed at how calm I am right now with the job loss. But, with this job loss, as with that one, I felt like I just didn't fit too well. Maybe the feeling comes straight away and just snowballed. Maybe it begins with the bananas and ends with the HP Sauce. 

Now I have time to think

And I am actually glad that I can have some time to sit and mourn the dot and think about what to do with the rest of my life. Obviously the dream job would be to write, like it would be for thousands of people. What is not to love? Me, at home, wearing a caftan as I float around the house, the baby-bjorn slung casually over my shoulder as I throw witty epithet after witty epithet into the computer.

Or me, in serious mode, with eye glasses and a weighty volume at my elbow, a nanny shushing the children because: "Mommy really needs to concentrate on this book on feminism as a form of protest in the early 2000s".

Then there is me, in more fetching caftan, swanning around the world testing out the latest spas in some of the best hotels and feel mah-vellous dahling! I am feeling very good about all three careers. Anyone want to hire me?