Month: February 2014

more evidence i am (pretending to be) growedup
I had to get out of town. I do not lie when I say dealing with a will is brain-crackingly hard and the opposite of fun. Ugh. UGH.

So YAY my friend and former roommate L and I went to the Bay Area — she to visit a buddy in Alameda, me to lie motionless on Molly’s couch and play Candy Crush, with periodic bursts of buying expensive foods and drinks and putting them in my mouth. Next time I will be more social and seek out my buddies, but this time the most cerebral thinking I did was laughing at the pants in Her.

Happily, L has a large car and a wonderful willingness to be a helping and lovely person, and that STUPID TABLE, that family heirloom I was paying 80 bucks/mo to keep in storage, the one that didn’t fit into the car I especially rented, THAT STUPID TABLE… well, that table got shuttled to SF and to my brother and voila, I never have to think about that stupid table ever again in my life!

Bonus: I had a* pleasant visit with my brother and his family, and had quality time with my 25-year-old nephew who I have not seen in 11 years. I will tell you that I was dazzled — he is kind, smart, handsome, interesting, ambitious, funny. Hoo boy. Well done and thumbs up to my sib — for picking a really good woman to have kids with.

[*the word surprisingly was typed here, them removed. then typed again and removed again.]

[I know I’m biased but honestly, every one of my nieces and nephews, every dang 9 of them, are spectacular. all of my sibs knew to marry up]

After the family visit in the Castro, I walked towards Molly in the Mission, who was walking toward me, both of us hoping for a mid-point brunch place stopping point. While on Valencia I stopped into Therapy, with which I have a long history (haha insert therapy joke here).. Wayne had his first Therapy shop downstairs from where I lived on 14th St. in the late 80s and twothousand-teens Wayne is still rocking it bigshot style with expanded locations success all over.

Then in there I saw really great couches. Then I saw the great prices, then I saw you could custom order (frantically texting my levelheaded and practical Molly to PLEASE MEET ME AT THERAPY UH OH) and then I saw that you could order sleepers and then they told me the factory’s in LA so I could avoid delivery charges and pick it up myself and suddenly oh yes falling in love four easy monthly payments and swatches and leg stain colors and credit card and handshakes and

NOW I HAVE A COUCH ON ORDER. I don’t do well with large ticket purchases and periodically panic but then I think of the beautiful teal then I freak out but then I remember this couch got Molly-approved and I feel a little less anxious every time.

What am I going to do with all that time that I used to use up being angry at Craigslist? And that was a lot of time — witness my angry-at-ugly-craigslist-couches rant all the way from 2007. Yup. I have been putting off buying a couch, something I need and want, for over 7 years. Oh, 11 years. 12, actually.

Now, of course, several decent couches appeared on Craigslist this week.. but not as decently fantastic as mine, specifically assembled and customized for my very own ass. And, like that stupid family table, I never have to think about Craigslist couches again, though I totally will, if just to gloat, gloat, gloat!

I am grateful for this purchase happening, too, because it made me move forward on getting some money stuff done that I was putting off — that’s for another post but let’s just say some big checks were written and some debt was disappeared — to make way for this couchy debt, but couchy debt is much less (c)ouchy that that other debt and well, my writing quality is degrading because I haven’t eaten protein for a while because I’m not THAT much of a grownup to remember to eat lunch in a timely manner so that my friend is that.

Lessons:
- I like to take (gentle! only teasing!) potshots at my brothers and sisters especially that one
- High-waisted futuristic pants are in the overlap part of the Venn diagram of what Molly finds hilarious and what I find hilarious
- Miette caramels make my hands involuntarily unwrap and eat them even if they were intended for certain birthday girls
- I fail to grasp the TIME=MONEY thing a lot
- I love you
February 19, 2014
mine. be mine!

I was trying to sleuth out some info about my stepdad which entailed digging into some poorly labeled (by me) boxes in my closet. I came across a box marked “letters”, and instead of them being John’s and providing information about a key relative’s whereabouts, the letters were mine.

And of course that killed my industrious night, as the letters were from various people to a very young me and were very entertaining.

Little did I know I was going to have to keep sleuthing, because in that box I found these:

Tiny envelopes addressed in my childish handwriting. And inside the envelopes:

Valentines!

But why were they totally addressed but never sent? And why all boys (except maybe for Chris?)

I looked carefully at the names. Rusty was the only standout, there was only one Rusty, the Rusty of the Day School I attended in Phoenix during grades 4-6. Okay, but still: why are these in my keep?

Then I remembered. This is the most likely and most adorable explanation: When I was 9, my mom was preparing to travel from our home in Arizona to my sister Lisa’s family home in Massachusetts in anticipation of the birth of Lisa’s second child, Sarah. I was to stay home with dad, but just before mom’s trip, dad’s father died. Since dad had to travel to California, I went with mom to the east coast.

After a few days of mom and Lisa helping me with fractions and state capitals, and my small nephew making me feel utterly omnipotent and adored, my niece Sarah was born — on February 11.

Hence the never-distributed valentines — I was far and away, getting to hold my tiny sweet little niecey.

Still can’t figure out why all boys, though, except that I was and continue to be boy crazy beyond belief.

Now, here’s something fun! Guess the answers to these riddles. All are absolutely hilarious, at least to the intended audience. Highlight the text under each to reveal the answer.

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): In February, because it’s the shortest month!

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): It has a head on one side and a tail on the other.

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): None.

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): Your comb.

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): It’s all right, but a sidewalk is better.

Answer (highlight this line to reveal): When he’s a-blinkin’!

February 14, 2014
big gone heart

My stepdad John B died this past Tuesday at dawn, February 4. Sudden but not unexpected. I got to spend time with him, After the Fact. I was overwhelmed by gratitude, mostly. I’m go grateful he was so goodhearted, that he adored and took care of my mother, that he was in my life and I in his.

And now the familiar drumbeat of grief begins. I am angry, sad, volatile, indifferent, thin-skinned. I sail through some potential grief landmines (dealing with the idiots from the society who picked him up; picking out an urn) and get destroyed by others (fitting his entire existence into three file boxes; that picture, above).

I feel the relentlessness of time passing. The grief triggers the other, older griefs in a tragic chain reaction. Boom boom boom. Gone gone gone.

I punish others because I’m feeling the way I feel. I feel put upon, but at the same time am grateful for all the stuff that needs to be done. Getting wiser-older and more angry-toddler simultaneously.

At least I know by now that grief is this … thing. A lumpy unpredictable thing that comes and goes on its own selfish agenda. I know it’s not depression or anger, it’s just grief. Thank goodness others know this too, so when I grind to a stop, or when tears spring unbidden, or I get really mad at something really unimportant — they know. They may or may not empathize, but they know. And they deal the best they can.

John asked that his “dear adopted family” and friends have a party, on him, in his memory. Now that I can do. I have my many doubts, but the idea that perhaps there’s a party going on in his realm is a very nice thought. And happy reunions. And joy. And peace, finally.

February 9, 2014