Julia And Julie

I have watched the movie Julia and Julie about four times now. I think it will be one of those movies I can watch over and over - like You've Got Mail. Maybe that is why I started this blog, not so much that I have anything relevant to say but that I have to say it. I have to vent, release, write, and let it all out before I explode. So maybe someday, perhaps long after I am gone, someone will stumble on this blog and say "Wow, did this woman have something to say" and turn it into a book. Alas, someone else will become rich and famous because I have chosen to be so anonymous that so far no one has even found this, let alone contacted me with encouragement or acknowledgment.

I find that I have a lot in common with the Julie character. I love to cook and I love to write but I have not done much with it in the course of my lifetime. My older sister is a Ph.D. My younger sisters, again a topic for another day, got all my mother's attention. So I, the typical middle child, learned very early that I was invisible and how to hide in everyone else's shadow.

So, while I have no desire to cook my way through Julia's cookbook, I will content myself to a few words here and there, words of cheer or anger depending on the day, but therapy for me just the same.

My Ties To The Groundhog - February 2, 2010

Today is Groundhog's Day. It is nearly five and I do not know if the little guy saw his shadow or not, whether we will have six more weeks of winter or not. I do know it is cold today and I would not blame anyone or anything who did not want to crawl out of a nice warm hole to give the weather report.

I am not sure I like this day, it is after all the birthday of an old high school girl friend of my husband - who incidentially looks very much like an old groundhog, but I digress. It is also the anniversary, ten years ago today, that I broke my leg. I was doing a good deed - carrying out the trash at church so no one else would have to do it. I had almost managed to drag the very heavy trash can to the road when I slipped on the ice and went tumbling into the ditch. I remember thinking as I was attempting to crawl out that if anyone asked me if I saw my shadow I was just going to scream. After much tugging and pulling and help from hubby and a passerby I managed, in a very unladylike manner, to flop into the back seat of our car and off the hospital we went. They took x-rays, gave me a prescription for pain, wrapped my leg in one of those long, splinted elastic thingys and sent me and my two broken bones on our merry little way. I was sure this was no big deal because they didn't even put it in a cast. It would be a year exactly - to the day - after wheelchairs, crutches, canes, a whole lot of pain, and the constant reminder from my twelve year old looking doctor that I was not as young as I used to be, before I would be released from medical care.

I have not volunteered to take out the trash since.