Things I Miss
February 27, 2009 at 8:22 am | Posted in memory lane | 41 Comments- The sound of my father’s voice
- Waking up and climbing into my parents recently vacated bed, still warm from their sleeping bodies
- Riding my yellow banana seat bike
- That initial thrill of diving into a cold swimming pool
- My childhood bedroom located right off the front porch- perfectly placed for my friends to scare the crap out of me when they came up to the door (or spy on me)
- Cooking with my Mom in the kitchen
- A gang of friends who always were up for an adventure or hanging out
- Thrift store shopping with Jenny Two Times and those long gone one dollar deals
- Decorating ice cream cakes with Felicia
- My 1966 Red Mustang
- World History with my favorite teacher, Ms. Caine
- Apple wars over the back fence with my classmate who later died too young (at 16)
- The TV show Family Ties
- The smell of the perfume my Mom wore when we were kids
- Love notes left on my car
- Walking to work and smelling the sea
- Margarita nights with the girls- Em, Lil Bun and Dokey
- The spark of feeling when you’d take my hand
- Watching The Price is Right with my Grandma
- The way Angelou would yap like a monkey whenever we’d take her for a ride in the car
- Coloring books
- Sitting in my room listening to music for hours
- Putting on dance performances with my sister
- My 1974 VW Convertible Super Beetle and the adventures we had crammed into it
- Learning the guitar
- My Santa Cruz gang of friends, long since scattered (but never ever gone from my heart)
- Dancing with my Dad
- The birch trees on the front lawn in front of our house and the sound they’d make in the wind
- Coffee
- The way he’d look at me when he thought I couldn’t see
- The peals of delighted screams from the Boardwalk riding in on the the ocean breeze
- Morning walks on the beach with Angelou and that sunny yellow house I shared with my sister for a year
- Falling asleep face-to-face, breathing each other in
- Being sure of love
“Don’t move an inch/Listen for a singing/Hiding in your bones like they were forts/If you hear what I hear/Don’t just sit there/We are only strumming water on this most unlikely court/You got blown shore to shore/Not quite sailing/Riding on the trade winds of age/Things blow in/Don’t just cast them/Say it now, what you want to stay…” -Paint or Pollen, Blind Pilot
Preparedness
February 26, 2009 at 7:07 am | Posted in family | 28 CommentsMy sister and I were driving in the car with Finn in the backseat. We were chatting idly on our way somewhere when out of the blue Finn says from the back, “Stop it.” I turned my head towards him and asked, “Stop what, Finn?” He looked out the window, away from my gaze and said straight as an arrow, “STOP TALKING TEE TEE!” Dokey and I started cracking up and Finn, at two and a half, cracked a half-smile and started to laugh too. “That isn’t very nice,” we both told him through our laughter.
Of course, I went right on talking as I am wont to do. I figured it was training for his teen years when, surely, all of our reactions to such outbursts will not be so jovial.
I just needed to remember that moment because I’m looking for smiles wherever I can find them.
P.S. Today I want follow my nephew’s lead and cry out, STOP SNOWING SNOW! Because, yes, it is once again snowing.
When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.*
February 25, 2009 at 7:52 am | Posted in flashback, my neurosis, processing | 43 CommentsIt’s interesting to see who shows up for you when you are in need.
When my father died there was one person in particular I expected to “get” what I needed. I had known him since I was five and after we graduated 8th grade and he moved to Montana, we exchanged weekly letters and phone calls. Through that correspondence, we became best friends. For years he was my confidante. When I’d cry about my Dad being so depressed or drunk or the pervasive sadness that hung around my house, he’d be the one I called or poured my heart out to in page after page of teen angst letters. He knew me. And so when my father passed away I just assumed he’d be there for me.
I was wrong.
He didn’t call me back. He wrote me a letter and in it he basically said that my dad was a good man and it should be a relief that his suffering was over. Or something to that effect.It’s hard to remember now the exact wording but the way I felt upon reading that letter is still fresh in my mind, sixteen years later.
It’s like that famous quote, “People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.” That letter made me feel very alone. I eventually wrote him, sharing how hurt I was and after that, we stopped talking for many, many years. It felt like my heart broke twice. First I lost my dad, then I lost one of my best friends.
All I really wanted was someone to show up for me. Someone that knew me to my core and didn’t need anything from me. Because when you lose someone special to you, you’re all over the map. Mourning is like that. It’s unpredictable. One minute you are chatting away, lost in a story and the next you’re somber and sullen, retreating into your own mind. You can run through emotions like a sprinter- you’re crying then you’re laughing then you feel guilty then you’re angry and back to crying. In the span of five minutes.
It’s not every person that can handle that- that can show up and just be there. Because honestly? That’s all I wanted. Someone to call me up and say, “I’m sorry you are hurting. I love you.” and then just let me cry or scream or hold my hand silently. Just let me be but not be alone. Luckily for me, I was surrounded by people who did that and to this day, I’m still so grateful. Death scares the crap out of people. The majority of us are confused as to how to respond when someone dies and no one wants to face their own mortality. But letting our own issues get in the way of showing up for a person in pain is just not right. Not in my book.
The point of all this is to say that in the midst of grief, I am once again reminded that comfort can be found in the most unlikey of places. And in people that care enough to show up. . . but it’s not always the ones you expected to.
P.S. Thank you to each of you who wrote, called, tweeted, blogged and just all around sent me sympathy and love yesterday. It made me cry repeatedly but they were good tears- of feeling loved and cared for. You were there for me and that means so much to me.
*Maya Angelou quote though some websites wrongly attribute it to Oprah. Don’t people get by now that Oprah uses other peoples wisdom to sound enlightened?
Dear Angelou
February 24, 2009 at 12:54 am | Posted in love, processing | 117 Comments
I remember when your papa and I went to the SPCA to look for a pup and you threw yourself eagerly against the chain-link gate, barking and wagging your tail. You were never one to sit still. On the way home for the first time, you got nervous and went the bathroom in the backseat. You were nine months old and full of life. We loved you the moment we met you.
Over the years you were always my one constant. I’d come home to your sweet face and your jumping up and then off the couch over and over again. You were slow to train but quick to love. For every day that you were in my life, I’m grateful. Even the day when you darted out of the open front door, taking off at full speed towards a busy street, and me running after you in my bare feet. Or that time you got sprayed by a skunk in the backyard and we tried to drown the smell with tomato juice. You ended up smelling like an Italian skunk for weeks. Or when you failed doggie school. Or the time you bit one of my beau’s dog at the beach. Or all the days you curled up on the couch next to me with a heavy sigh, only to fall fast asleep and snore. Loudly.
I loved the way you’d yap like a monkey in the car. Your head stuck out the window, barking loudest at large trucks. The way you’d run in and out of the waves at the beach. The way you’d pull my arm off when I’d take you for a walk. I should have taken you for more walks. How you’d keep watch for squirrels in the yard or just lay out in a patch of sun. How you greeted all our guests with untethered excitement. Sometimes you’d work yourself up into such a frenzy that you’d run around in a circle chasing your own tail. It always cracked us up. You were bossy and mouthed off at other dogs, up until your final day. You longed to herd cows but settled for kittens and people.
You always protected me and made me feel safe and maybe, hopefully, I did the same for you. You were such a good girl, the best dog, such a joy in my life. Thank you for that and for every puppy kiss and wag of your tail, for loving me and for your sweet puppy feet that smelled like popcorn.
I hope wherever you are there are squirrels and bacon and an open field to run in. I will miss you and love you. Always, my sweet Loubear.
xoxo,
Mama
P.S. Fuck you, cancer.
Discuss.
February 23, 2009 at 7:51 am | Posted in life lessons, light bulb moments, reader participation | 36 Comments“You are in your life where you are because of what you believe is possible for yourself.”
Seeking Clarity
February 20, 2009 at 7:28 am | Posted in love, my neurosis, processing | 62 CommentsI get these Notes from the Universe which sounds weird and like hocus pocus but really it’s just a website that sends you messages. The froo froo side of me loves it.
Today’s told me:
Whatever it is you want, however you want to have it, no matter why you want to have it, Sizzle, you can have it faster if you can first be happy without it.
Well Universe, I hate to break it to you but I’m one step ahead of you. Last Saturday, oh yes Valentine’s Day, The Fella and I decided to take a break from our relationship. What does this mean? I am not sure except that we were both not feeling happy and tired of having the same conversation we’ve been having for months. So we are refraining from communication for the next month to see if time helps us have clarity.
I don’t know what will come of this. But something had to give.
I debated saying anything about it because I don’t want to make a huge deal out of it. But then I just decided to just spill it because it feels weird to me to keep something so major from the diary of my life (this silly little blog). I have a lot to explore internally and hopefully the next few weeks will give me the space to do that. I’m always trying to examine myself and my motivations but I’ve felt like I’ve hit a wall which has prompted me to try out a new therapist next week with the hopes of delving deeper. Because ultimately it’s me I will always have to live with and if I can’t figure myself out, I’m doomed.
“I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m./To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend/I woke up with a headache like my head against a board/Twice as cloudy as I’d been the night before/I went in seeking clarity./I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains/I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain/There’s more than one answer to these questions/pointing me in crooked line/The less I seek my source for some definitive/The closer I am to fine.” -Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls
Is this Kindergarten Cop?
February 18, 2009 at 7:25 am | Posted in conversations, family | 35 CommentsFinn is jumping around on my Mom’s couch, losing his drawers.
Me: I can see your butt.
Finn: Poop comes out of my bottom!
Me: Oh really? Where does pee come out?
Finn: Out of my penis!
Me: That’s right. Where does my pee come out?
Finn: Out of your penis!
Me: I don’t have a penis.
{Confused look.}
Me: I am a girl. Girls have vaginas. Boys have penises.
{More confused look.}
{More jumping.}
. . .Don’t worry kid. You have plenty of time to figure this stuff out. . .
Do Not Pass Go
February 17, 2009 at 7:47 am | Posted in drivel | 38 CommentsLast night at 9:37p.m. the land line rang. This usually means a tenant is calling to complain about a noise or a smell. I answered it and a recorded voice alerted me to a collect call from the County Correctional Facility.
I hung up.
Because no one I know would call me on my land line to get them out of jail.
Or would they?
Self-Love Day 2009
February 13, 2009 at 8:30 am | Posted in confessional | 49 Comments
Today (and tomorrow) mark the third annual Self-Love Day started by none other than the Queen of the PRB, Snackie. Last year I kind of cheated and talked about the Fella instead of directly about myself. And the year before that I made a list. Boy, I was ambitious (and single).
The deal is to dedicate a post to talking about yourself and something in particular you love about you. THEN anyone reading can chime in with something they love about you thus creating a wild comment orgy lovefest.
Was that too graphic? Ooops.
So what do I love about me? Maybe it’s because I’ve been so sick this week but it really got me thinking about being nurturing. I’m a thoughtful person who is good at nurturing people. I’ll run to the store for juice if you need it. I’ll send you a card when you’re feeling blue. I’ll hold your hand when you are crying. I’ll tell you you can do it when you courage falters. I’ll cheer for you on the sidelines and throw you a party to celebrate.
I love that about myself.
Here’s the part where you chime in (if you feel like it) with what you love about me. Feel free to participate! Self-Love Day is actually two days this year so you also have tomorrow.
Here’s how the whole thing works:
1.) You’re gonna grab yourself a banner. If you don’t like the one I’ve used in this post, you can find another one here.
2.) You’re gonna post that banner and then tell us all something that you really like
love about yourself (thus, the “self-love” portion of our program).3.) Ask or beg your readers to post one thing that they too love about you!!! If your blog friends are nice, you shouldn’t have to beg…much.
4.) Enjoy yourself and spread the love by doing this on your blog! If you want to, drop me a line or a trackback so that I know you participated too!
Doctor, Doctor!
February 11, 2009 at 9:07 am | Posted in health | 46 CommentsI lost yesterday to a feverish blur. I recognized the chills and sweats and dizziness as the distinct signs of fever but without a thermometer to verify it. I tried calling my Mom and when I went to speak, a hoarse, inaudible rasp came out of my mouth. I broke down and agreed to go to the doctor. With the help of The Fella and my Mom, I got to an 11a.m. appointment where it took all my effort not to fall over every time I had to stand upright.
I guess that’s what happens when you’re struck down by a 102.7 fever. What can I say? I live up to my Sizzle name.
The doctor prescribed bed rest and codeine to help me sleep. And that’s all I’ve been doing. What I thought was a common pesky head cold has actually blown up into a nasty virus complete with sore throat, aches, fever, phlegm and cough. The earliest I am allowed to return to work is tomorrow. Today I hope to accomplish three things: 1) taking a shower, 2) sitting upright for an hour at a time, 3) talking without my voice cracking. We’ll see how that goes.
Thank you so much to all of you for your well wishes for Angelou. After an initial scare when her blood would not clot properly, she made it through the surgery with flying colors. The surgeon felt she had removed most of the mass so now we wait for lab results on it. Lou came home early yesterday because that’s how she is- an impatient fighter. She looks a bit rough but despite being on medication that should make her drowsy, she’s energetic. Keep those good thoughts coming. I’ll update you when I know more.
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