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A - hopefully not too whiny - update
Jun. 18th, 2007 10:34 amSo, first the good things, whininess may be saved for later.
Weekend was good. Saturday spent in a very leisurely fashion, at home with ze boyz, reading (both books and exchange fic), listening to music and pedicuring my feet into presentable shininess.
Yesterday, ze embassy girlz (i.e. Doris, Jasmin+husband, Gabiele and I) were invited to brunch - we have a military attaché here, and the only nice and reasonable person at the attaché's office and his wife have become good friends to all of us, so these get-togethers are always lovely. The brunch lasted from 11 a.m. until 9.30 p.m., at which time I put my foot down and manhandled Gabriele into a taxi home. The fact that Gabriele, I and our host had had 6 bottles of wine betwen the 3 of us goes a long way towards explaining why man- (or rather woman-)handling was necessary.
The problem is that, whereas red wine makes me sleepy, white wine has a rather stimulating effect, and so I didn't sleep too well. But there's no hangover, and I'm not really tired, as I got plenty of sleep on Friday and Saturday.
Thanks to leisurely Saturday I also managed to almost catch up with the loads of lovely fics over at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sshg_exchange. There really are some masterpieces out there, and can't wait until my gift (i.e. me as recipient) will be posted.
Recent non-HP-related reading comprises: Restless by William Boyd (liked it a lot, because even though I'm usually not that keen on spy novels, this one is character-driven and clever and very well written), The Dogs of Riga by Henning Mankell (again, I'm not really into detective stories, but Mankell's are fantabulous, also because they're more dependent on character - especially Wallander - than plot), and on Saturday I started Special Topics in Calamity Physics. Forgot the author's name. Bugger. Anyway, it's very weird - the wanker who wrote the cover text compares it to A Secret History (I read that and don't agree) and the Virgin Suicides (haven't read that one, so I don't know whether to agree or disagree). As I said, weird but interesting - narrated from the 1st person perspective of a young girl who perceives reality mainly through literature both scientific and not (with the appropriate quotes - very funny). Definitely not a relaxing read, but a very pleasurable one.
OK, and now on to the whiny part. My mother's not well, and things are shaping out to be exactly as I thought they would, which doesn't comfort me in the least. She's weak, she's anaemic, she's got a bladder infection, she's lost muscle... And she still hasn't done anything about the cleaning woman project, claiming that she can do light household chores (which incidentally include vacuuming). It makes me angry, and it makes me sick. When we talked on Saturday, I was actually crying afterwards - I'd cautiously reminded her of the possibility of coming to Ankara, while my father goes somewhere they'll pamper and feed him, and she said, in a very, well, dry and harsh tone of voice 'You certainly won't live to see that happen'. I did of course swallow the acid reply 'I'm afraid you won't live to see it happen', because that would've been cruel and unnecessary, not to mention very unhelpful.
I'm working at being grown-up and wise, i.e. not letting the whole affair afflict me too much without shutting myself off emotionally. But it sucks, oh yes, it does.
Weekend was good. Saturday spent in a very leisurely fashion, at home with ze boyz, reading (both books and exchange fic), listening to music and pedicuring my feet into presentable shininess.
Yesterday, ze embassy girlz (i.e. Doris, Jasmin+husband, Gabiele and I) were invited to brunch - we have a military attaché here, and the only nice and reasonable person at the attaché's office and his wife have become good friends to all of us, so these get-togethers are always lovely. The brunch lasted from 11 a.m. until 9.30 p.m., at which time I put my foot down and manhandled Gabriele into a taxi home. The fact that Gabriele, I and our host had had 6 bottles of wine betwen the 3 of us goes a long way towards explaining why man- (or rather woman-)handling was necessary.
The problem is that, whereas red wine makes me sleepy, white wine has a rather stimulating effect, and so I didn't sleep too well. But there's no hangover, and I'm not really tired, as I got plenty of sleep on Friday and Saturday.
Thanks to leisurely Saturday I also managed to almost catch up with the loads of lovely fics over at
sshg_exchange. There really are some masterpieces out there, and can't wait until my gift (i.e. me as recipient) will be posted.Recent non-HP-related reading comprises: Restless by William Boyd (liked it a lot, because even though I'm usually not that keen on spy novels, this one is character-driven and clever and very well written), The Dogs of Riga by Henning Mankell (again, I'm not really into detective stories, but Mankell's are fantabulous, also because they're more dependent on character - especially Wallander - than plot), and on Saturday I started Special Topics in Calamity Physics. Forgot the author's name. Bugger. Anyway, it's very weird - the wanker who wrote the cover text compares it to A Secret History (I read that and don't agree) and the Virgin Suicides (haven't read that one, so I don't know whether to agree or disagree). As I said, weird but interesting - narrated from the 1st person perspective of a young girl who perceives reality mainly through literature both scientific and not (with the appropriate quotes - very funny). Definitely not a relaxing read, but a very pleasurable one.
OK, and now on to the whiny part. My mother's not well, and things are shaping out to be exactly as I thought they would, which doesn't comfort me in the least. She's weak, she's anaemic, she's got a bladder infection, she's lost muscle... And she still hasn't done anything about the cleaning woman project, claiming that she can do light household chores (which incidentally include vacuuming). It makes me angry, and it makes me sick. When we talked on Saturday, I was actually crying afterwards - I'd cautiously reminded her of the possibility of coming to Ankara, while my father goes somewhere they'll pamper and feed him, and she said, in a very, well, dry and harsh tone of voice 'You certainly won't live to see that happen'. I did of course swallow the acid reply 'I'm afraid you won't live to see it happen', because that would've been cruel and unnecessary, not to mention very unhelpful.
I'm working at being grown-up and wise, i.e. not letting the whole affair afflict me too much without shutting myself off emotionally. But it sucks, oh yes, it does.
