State of the Onion* Address:

I’m actually feeling physically ok today, miraculously enough**. Of course, the last day I felt this good was the day before I ended up in the hospital. I’ve been living in fear of every sick kid (or adult) who comes into the library. I’m supposed to wear a mask all the time, but I can’t breathe with it on, and it makes my face break out. I have a bottle of vanilla walnut antibacterial gel to hand, and a box of those little wipes, for my hands and the phone, but I think about the fact that every book and movie that comes in is germy. Yuck. It has definitely become a kind of hell to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work with the public again.
Even worse than the threat of disease is the emotional torment… I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been out a lot, or if it’s because of puberty, or it’s a new crop of kids, but I have had huge struggles trying to control the general misbehavior and vandalism. I found out that kids were throwing things (nice plastic bookmarks, that they also use as ammo, wooden tags for the upstairs computers, paper, etc) out of the upstairs windows, onto the roof of the neighboring building. These windows have no safety measures, so who knows when one of the children will fall – which will immediately be my fault – and the library’s problem. They have been raiding my little kitchenette (that I can’t use because I can’t leave this floor). Last week they stole a bottle of Hershey’s fat-free chocolate syrup (Sally and I made mochas) and poured it down the elevator shaft. They… “defecate”*** (and “regurgitate”) on the bathroom floor upstairs and then walk in it, or rub it on the walls; I ordered big cork boards for posters and notices, and then Joy and I ordered beautiful posters for them. The kids stuck pins in the faces. I was extremely peeved when they defaced one I’d bought special, but I got downright angry when I found pins stuck in the beautiful face of Lady Ella Fitzgerald. I actually considered asking the police to come and dust for prints, just to scare the little !#$%&*^#!s (grrr….) but then I was overcome by the same wave of hopelessness that I’ve been feeling in the face of all of this for sometime now. I mean, what can I do? (before you come up with a dozen or so suggestions that seem just skippy and should solve all my problems *bink *, consider that I’ve been doing this for 5 years now, and I’ve tried everything that I am allowed to try – and a few things that I’m not – it’s a “defecatey” setup here, and that’s the whole of it.) It sickens me that they have this fantastic facility to enjoy and make use of, and someone running it who genuinely cares about them, and they treat it with such incredible disrespect.
I can only discipline them if I catch them. I can’t catch them because they are a whole floor away. I am not allowed to keep them all on this floor, nor to ask anyone for help, beyond the puny measures I’m already taking. We have had cameras installed, but they haven’t been able to make them work (due to more ‘defecatey’ setup problems) and even if we could, we’d have to close circulation in order to be able to watch the cameras. There’s no intercom system there either.
On top of all that loveliness, they lie to me, insult me, they make fun of my illness, and they abuse my concern and hospitality constantly. It’s like having a !#$% husband.
I saw a notepad in a catalog that said “Women with teenagers understand why some animals eat their young”**** Man, do I understand that. Last Wednesday, I cried five times during the course of the day. My beautiful friend Catherine (whose 3 children are always here and would never dream of behaving this way) came in during the last meltdown that day and reminded me that they aren’t ALL like that – true (and I never forget that. I love and appreciate my good guys dearly). But the rest of them, relatively few though they may be, are enough to destroy my peace of mind, and crush my enthusiasm for the whole. I am so drained of energy that I cannot muster even a fraction of my usual concern and support. As if my health issues weren’t enough of a damper, there is this unending nightmare to contend with.
I know that if I were to consult with my boss, he would just castigate me for not doing a better job and tell me that I am supposed to be managing this, so I continue to just abide by the rules when I know who’s responsible, and clean up the mess when I don’t. And I bide my time.

I’m tired of feeling bad. I’m tired of bitching. I want ME back, body and soul.
Next week I have a meeting with my boss and two ladies from finance to discuss the leave that Jeff (Dr. Viar) prescribed. My boss said that the county would be doing an air quality test (YAY!), and asked if we could postpone the meeting until after that, but I explained that even if they find that there is now good air in the building, it’s not going to undo five months worth of damage. My immune system is so weak, not to mention my body itself. At the worst, they’ll determine that workman’s comp won’t cover my leave, and then I don’t know what I’ll do. (I’ve been offered several art jobs, as well as a little waitress job, and I have people clamoring for jewelry, so it’s not as if there’s nothing…) I’m afraid to ask them about all the medical bills I’ve compiled since September as well, but I think I have to. They’re adding up FAST.
It all feels like emotional tsunami.

So. What ELSE is happening in the world of Sam? Not much. Life has been sick/work/
sleep/housework/sick/work/sleep for some time now. No get-togethers, no comedy show. My body doesn’t take the travel well, I don’t have the energy for rehearsals, nor can I stand second-hand smoke. My appetite’s been pretty puny too. When I have time off, I either try to clean a little (my poor Casa de Luna!), make jewelry (aw, y’all WAIT ‘til you see my new stuff*****!!!), read, or sleep. The jewelry-making is a comfort in more ways than one, but sometimes I don’t even have energy for that.
Chris is a rock in the midst of all this. He may not be real good in the ‘remembering ANYthing department’, or in the ‘closing-the-potty-lid’ department but he’s good at being sweet to me, fetching and carrying, and putting up with my b.s. I feel closer to him every day. It’s nice to have something in the ‘L-O-V-E’ department that feels so REAL, not to mention comfortable, trustworthy and safe. He talks to me, about everything, he fights with me when I feel like a good row******, he makes me oatmeal when that’s all I want, and pets my head with his cool fingers when I feel really bad. He tells me that I’m pretty and that he loves me every day, he makes good gin and tonics, and a mean pot-pie. He has a lot of patience, and he is so beautiful to me. When I look at him my heart goes all squashy and I think “Man, I am a lucky girl.” He tells me that HE is the lucky one, so yay, lucky us!
Luna is well, but she’s having some depression and jealousy issues. She’s jealous because George is the center of attention, and it doesn’t matter to her that we are constantly paying attention to him because he’s so damned BAD! Jeesh, this !#$% CAT!
He knocks pictures and ornaments off the wall, jumps onto my shoulder from, I dunno where, !#$ hyperspace (literally) while I’m trying to do dishes or cook, he keeps burning his whiskers off – anytime he sees an open flame he rushes straight to it to try to smell it… A few days ago he burnt the pad off of one of his back toes, jumping onto a hot burner on the stove. As soon as we can get him snipped and completely immunized, we think we’ll have a very happy indoor/outdoor kitty (I think we’re not gonna’ have any choice…). Otherwise, we fear that we’ll be eaten (or duct-taped to death, or some similar horrible end) in our sleep.

Well, that’s basically the latest update.
For those of you who have written and called, I’m sorry if I owe you a reply. I don’t have easy access to the ‘net right now, and I’m too tired to talk when I come home at the end of each day. It’s catch as catch-can. But I love hearing from you, so don’t be discouraged by my silence. I hear you, and it makes all the difference.

Much love,
-s

*Well, not counting my pet migraine, FoFs.
**S – “Ogres [read: Orcs] are like onions”
D – “What they smell bad?”
S – “NO!”
D – “They make people cry?”
S – “NO!”
D – “Oh I know, when you leave em out in the sun they start turning brown and sprout
little white hairs?”
S – “NO DONKEY! Layers! Ogres have layers! Onions have layers....”
D – “...cake, everybody loves cakes... parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole
damn earth...”
***god forbid I OFFEND someone…
****I saw another one that made me think of you Andi, and Buffy –
“I childproofed the house, but somehow they keep getting back in.”
*****I’ve designed pieces called “Moon and Sixpence”, “Van Gogh Spring”, “Chinatown”, “Green River”, “Music of the Night”, “Indian Summer”, “Courage”, etc… ooooo-wee! And I just got a bunch more pretty stuff to use, too. Yay!
******’s never over anything serious or mean. Just things like whether we should play ‘Clue’ or watch ‘Pole to Pole’, or why he finds it easier to lie or clam up than say what he really THINKS. We’re gonna conquer that one, damnit.