This post is long. It’s over 1,000 words. Correct post-length purists, ban me from your feeds if you must. I tried to cull sections. I just couldn’t. That’s my expressive bad and I’ll own it.
Last night, Steve brought me home a new computer. According to him, I got it because, apparently, I am (and I’m quoting here) “lovely”. Also, it’s “faster, prettier, can run modern software”…. I’m assuming he was talking about the computer in that last bit of his quote, and not me. I’m not very fast at all.
Boom-tish.
For the tech-details-hungry amongst you, it’s a 15″ MacBook Pro 2.5ghz i7, with 8GB ram, a 750GB Hard Drive and the optional high-resolution anti-glare screen, with added 256GB SSD driver. Because my husband works at Geek Heaven, it is even running the new (and as yet unreleased) OS, Mountain Lion. The system boots from cold in under ten seconds. That’s less time than I take to think about what I want to do first. And apps launch in 1 second. That’s just…
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But here’s the thing: This is a top of the line machine…. as of one month ago, anyway. It’s only three weeks old. And it has just been superceded by the latest release this week. It was traded in yesterday by its owner. He didn’t want it any more. He wants the new, NEW Apple MacBook Pro with the retina display new-fandangle thingy (sorry, I’m all tech-talked out, look it up if you want to get educated on it).
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There is so much cancer around at the moment. And I’m not talking about the zodiac sign. Diagnoses, scares, waits, treatments… Parents, friends, sisters, cousins, neighbours. The Big C, man. It’s all over all of us.
I got a call out of the blue this week from my oldest friend. Her mother, one of my dearest elders from my childhood, is currently enduring a huge battle. A double mastectomy already completed, treatment for an aggressive breast cancer now begins. I’m bereft for my dear friend and her mother. My surrogate mother, in many respects. Here she is, facing this on her own; her partner died suddenly when I was heavily pregnant with the LGBB. I went to his funeral, this larger than life, funny, retired primary school teacher whom I had adored. Hugging the belly he had only weeks before had a jolly, pleased laugh with me over, I sat on the floor at the back of the room, holding myself together and listening to his daughters stand up, in turn, and express their shocked grief at his sudden death.
We’re here one day. And sometimes, the next day we’re just… not.
Sometimes we’re granted seeing the end coming. Not all of it’s pretty. But when we’re forced into that eye-of-a-needle focus, when it’s someone so close to us and we have to see how tenuous our grip on life really is…. don’t we have to wonder?
What are we doing?
Really?
Why are we locked in a cold war fight with our loved one who wronged us so long ago we can hardly remember why we refuse to talk to them now?
Why are we getting angry at drivers in front of us?
Why are we busy meddling and assuming all sorts of incorrect things about anyone?
Why, please somebody tell me, are we teaching our children to “be the bigger person” instead of just being??
Why aren’t we teaching them to notice how they feel in their tummy and be guided by that? Tip: That purity, in them, is a better judge than any adult-affected instruction.
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We snapped the new computer up for a steal – thank YOU, Apple Gods, for allowing Steve to work in his fantasy job, knee deep in Apple products – at over $1,000 below usual retail. Given that I have worn through my second keyboard in as many years – I am a prolific shortcut-keyer – and my battery has piked, it seemed a no-brainer that we should snap it up before it hit general release for sale to customers. Call it a perk of the job.
My second replacement keyboard. I promise I'm kind to my keys. I love them… but possibly a little TOO much.
The guy was so desperate to get his hands on the newest MacBook Pro, he thought it was a better deal to cut this one loose and lose a bit of cash for the benefit of a computer that will, arguably, be superceded again in another couple of years’ time.
I can’t quite wrap my head around that.
That the world is filled to the brim with so much Want that not even all the Have that we already have is enough.
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This week, in a rare attempt to connect with a part of my childhood that made my tummy happy, I sought out a recipe my mother used to make. At her very best, she used to prepare this (below), bundle us all into the car early on a weekend morning and drive us into the hills, all rugged up and ready to just…. Be. Go outside and be. Sometimes, my older siblings would declare death to the other – and fight it out there and then – so the yelling and the hostility and all that emotional violence couldn’t be avoided. Not even outdoors, out of the confining walls of our unhappy house.
But man. These pancakes. Cooked to perfection over a camp fire on Mum’s iron griddle. They were The Awesome. Nothing better to an 8 year-old than unbreakable pancakes that can be drizzled with lemon and dusted with sugar and rolled into fat, edible cigars.
Be my guest. Try my childhood favourite.
Rubber Pancakes
1.5 cups plain flour
2 cups milk
1/4 cup applesauce (or 1Tbsp oil, I use rice bran)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 large egg
Mix it all together. Batter will be pretty thin, place 1/2 cup batter at a time into hot non-stick or lightly greased pan and cook on both sides (flip to second side once bubbles appear all over surface of pancake). Pancake will have a thick crepe texture. Serve with lemon juice and/or little sprinkle of sugar, roll up and devour. Repeat. Over and over.
Wow on your new SUPERFAST Mac (I am terribly envious right now)! And so very deeply sorry to hear about your friend’s mum. Yes, cancer SUPER SUCKS – hate it when someone I know or someone close who’s loved one has gone through it (and not survived). And you’re right, why hold grudges, life is too short to be angry. As for your rubber pancakes…I think I’m going to pass this recipe to Miss 10 to try out!
Please let me know how she/you likes them if she makes them. They are super-easy and I much prefer their taste to the more floury crumbly style.
Just being is such a good thing to be. I agree, we should all just be more often. It’s good for the soul.
As for the keyboard, mine looks similar, I have some very worn out keys. And rubber pancakes, rolled into fat cigars dripping with sugar and lemon… that is childhood refection.
I’m thinking perhaps we have some sort of acidic skin. Either that or just razor-sharp fingerprints.
You are so right in that …what are we all doing.Yes things can change just like that.I wish everyone would realise that and treasure their loved ones more and see what they have and appreciate it.
I sit and look at mum nearly every day at the nursing home and if I stop and think for too long my heart tears into shreds.Three months ago she was walking and talking sense.Now she is bedridden and tells me she hung up her clothes so ‘they’ couldnt wash them as they dont need it everyday…not even realising she cant walk.I smile as I feed her and she smiles back.I love it when she smiles.
My sister isnt coming to help me with mum as she says she cant handle it.In the times where mum is in the moment she asks where is she.So yes we are one of those you are writing about who is wasting precious time being angry etc but what do you do.I cant accept excuses from her as it is hard for me too.Mum must come first.
I love that you make your favourite childhood recipes.I want to but just cant face that at the moment.Hopefully one day I can make mums famous fruitcake and have a smile on my face thinking of her and happier times.
For the time being I am living in the moment and appreciating what time I have with my loved ones and wishing my 18yr old girl could realise how quickly the years go by.Hoping she notices the ‘feeling in her tummy’ and is always guded by it.Your words are so beautiful and true.xx
Ah, Deby, that just must be so hard. Dealing with seeing your Mum like that but also a sibling putting themselves first. The hardest road to walk is that of the selfless support person – it doubly throws the spotlight on those who have far shortened limits but is made more difficult when your service is not acknowledged xxxx If only I could tell my own 18 year-old self how quickly the years go by! And how EASY they were when I thought they were “so hard”…..
Life is way too short to bear grudges and petty grievances – we have so little time to set our hearts in order. Every second counts. So sad that we never realize it until it is too late.
And yet life is not long enough for computers who take over 10 seconds to boot up. Technologically speaking I can’t see you for the dust.
It’s so fast it’s almost backward, Steve. I seriously recoiled at how fast it loaded from being off that I must’ve looked like someone seeing that witchcraft electricity for the first time.
And yes. Every second, truly. It’s a fine balance to strike, that of living in the world but not being slurped up continually by it.
Not too long,
Just right.
Cancer is a mother of a…
The business of dying will set you right in the moment for certain.
ox
You are so refreshing! Very true, too, the business of dying WILL set you right in the moment. Nowhere to hide with that spotlight of death on you (even if you’re not the one actually going).
Superfast internet connections is something I can only dream about. I’m in a sloooow area, spending half my time turning off in frustration and on top of that the broadband roll out is bypassing my suburb completely. Pah!!
My mum used to make pancakes that could be used as car tyres they were so tough.
It would drive me spare, slow internet! I can handle slow computers. I honestly think this is a bit of overkill….