Maria and Harriet bond at the movies....

First and foremost...HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Liv, who is 9, to Socks, who is 1 (or 7 in dog years, I am told) and to Harry Potter, who is ? Many, many happy returns of the day.

I was at home, laying in bed. Trying to read. Listening to relaxation tapes that weren't really working. Feeling sorry for myself. Sleepy, but too awake, my brain spiraling around sad thought after thought after thought.

The phone rang. I looked at caller id. It was my bff, Harriet. I sighed and let it go to voice mail.

"Maria, you fucking hider...pick up the phone."

I looked at the phone. Shrugged. Turned over.

Click.

Whew. I was glad she gave up so easily. I had been holed up in the house for days, only going out to get the mail and water the garden. Depressed mostly. Putting on my happy voice for Liv and Bing when they called. Otherwise, just laying in the bed, sleeping, trying to read. I got up to shovel in three squares a day or read a few blogs, but that was it.

Less than an hour later, the door bell rang. I peeked out the window. Harriet's car in the driveway. I reluctantly opened the door and she pushed right in.

"I knew you were home. And don't give me this shit about how you didn't hear the phone because you were out in the garden. I could feel your sorry face looking at the telephone receiver..."

I didn't try to lie. I told her that I supposed I didn't feel like talking and so the fuck what?

"Jesus Nipples, go take a shower. And wash your hair. Put on some decent clothes. We are going to go to the movies."

No, I whined. I didn't feel like getting out. How about she just stayed for a short cup of coffee and went home?

"Nope. The movie starts in one hour. I'm bigger than you are, if I have to strip naked and get in the shower WITH you, I will. Now, let's get this...what the fuck is this? a shirt? off of you."

I looked down. I had on a long tee shirt. It had oatmeal stains on it.

"What's the movie?" I finally asked.

Harriet paused. "Mamma Mia," she finally said and then held up her hand.

"No bitching allowed. I saw this movie last week and I thought that you needed to see this because you are like...SUCH a Donna character. We need to see this together."

I made a pissy face. "MAMMA MIA?" Jesus Christ, can't we at least see Batman instead?"

Harriet shook her head. "You are forgetting, Miss Snob Ass, that you told me once in a moment of weakness that you LIKED ABBA..."

Busted.

I took the shower. I washed my hair. I put on shorts and my More Cow Bell!" tee shirt on. I didn't do makeup and Harriet couldn't make me. So there.

I showed her smarty ass, didn't I now?

She drove us to the theatre. There were maybe 12 people in there. An afternoon show.

She offered to buy me anything I wanted to eat, her treat. So, I got a box of raisinettes and a diet soda. I debated on the popcorn. She bought it.

"Bing says you don't eat enough," she said.

Well, that pissed me off. I am so weary of my partner going around acting like I am anorexic or something.

"Well," I told her, "when you file your report with the boss tonight, you can tell her that I ate an entire fucking box of raisinettes and didn't share one little turd with you."

She smirked at me.

I went in to get us seats while she went to the bathroom.

She made me smile a few moments later when she wandered into the theater and pretended she couldn't find me.

"MARIA? MARIA LASTNAME? HONEY CHILE? WHERE ARE YOU?" she said, using her flat prairie voice in the room of 20 people...

The movie started.

It was good. Much better than I thought it would be.

Harriet leaned over and whispered, "You are Donna. I'll be your back up singer anyday."

I reminded her that I look nothing like Meryl Streep.

"No," she said, "but you are a lot like the character she plays. Hell, no...you aren't nearly as pretty and you can't sing for shit."

"Well," I countered..."neither can Meryl...and hey, you have to be nice to me."

I paused here and made my voice petulant and full of whine.

"I'm sicccckkkkk."

She laughed and tried to snag a raisinette. I let her.

Halfway through the movie, I realized that we were holding hands.

Not because we are like that. But, because we were having a girl bonding moment. Because she is my best friend and she cared enough to get a sitter for her kids and come drag my sniveling self out of bed and make me take a shower.

She took my hand up to her mouth and kissed my knuckles. A nice heterosexual smacky one.

"You know, I'm not going to go down on you in a theater if that's what you're aimin' for, slut," I told her.

She snickered. We snickered.

She leaned over again. "Pierce Brosnan reminds me of Bing..." she said. "Ah...your love story up on the silver screen..."

That made me laugh. It did. Because Bing is NOTHING like Pierce Brosnan. She is more like Julie Walters.

So, there we were together watching Mamma Mia and doing the sisterhood bonding dance.

The movie was nearly at an end. I had begun crying at the song about little girls growing up and she had handed me a napkin and told me that she couldn't take me anywhere, could she?

And then there the leads were hamming it up to the tune of Dancing Queen and suddenly Harriet was up on her feet, yanking me with her.

"We need to dance so that we can always remember that we danced like a couple of old crazy hens in a theater," she said.

Just for a moment, I felt shy. A little conspicuous. Wanted her to sit her ass back down.

And then, I thought FUCK IT! and I stood up, profoundly grateful that I had remembered to take a pain pill before I left the house.

And we danced. I only wish that we had thought to wear spangley, sparkly bell bottoms and boots.

We were in a tiered theater with only a handful of people, not in anyone's way.

And then, two other women joined us.

Four not-spring-chicken women dancing.

And when this song came on, we were goners. True goners.

And it was so much fun.

After the movie, we just ignored the looks from our fellow patrons on the way out the door. The other two women who had danced with us smiled naughtily as they passed us. Four long in the tooth rebels. Yup that was us.

Harriet drove me home. I told her that my back would pay for this in the morning but it was so, so worth it.

And it was.

Earthquakes and aliens.

Well, it must be one of those weird thought connection things.

I just woke up from my um...nap. Yes. I am napping every day. Sometimes for hours at a time. It feels fucking weird. But, I am just so, so tired.

Anyway, I wake up and sleepily go online to check my e-mail and there on yahoo news is the prime story.

An earthquake in California.

Where my partner, my daughter, her father and several of my friends are.

Of course, the lead story is about some Dad talking about how he and his kid were waiting in line at Disneyland and suddenly the ground started shaking.

Liv will be at Disneyland on Thursday, her 9th birthday.

I stood up and reached for the phone.

And it RANG before I could touch it.

It was Tinton, Liv's father.

"Hey, I figured you would see the news and be worried. I wanted to assure you that Liv is fine. We didn't feel a thing. She is safe. She is safe. Okay?"

Okay.

Jesus Christ, it has been one strange summer for my baby. She has had to endure freak tree top tornadoes and too many hail and wind storms to count here on the prairie. So, she goes on vacation to California and there is a frackin' EARTHQUAKE?!

I asked to speak to her. She sounded fine.

"Dad and Nirand and I are doing a lot of spelunking. I get to wear a helmet with a flashlight on it! It is so cool! And I have a bunch of rocks for our garden. Just wait til the vegetables see how pretty they are! Hey, how's Socks? Does he miss me? Just think in two days I will be in Disneyland!! Nirand does all the cooking, so he made me this special soup that had coconut in it. It was really good. He doesn't want to come to Disneyland with us, though. He is going to stay here and hold down the fort, he says. Are you lonely without me? Have any of my friends called?"

Everything is fine. Phew. And thank you, Tinton. For knowing that my skin would immediately go cold and clammy at the news of the earthquake. And yes, Bing is fine too. I called her and she was all nonchalant about the whole thing.

On another note, I was laying in bed last night thinking about aliens....

Yeah. I do that sort of shit. I lay in bed at night and wonder about aliens.

What can I say? It's just all part of the fun part of being Maria.

Actually, I had read about an American astronaut who was disputing the American government's stand on the Roswell incident. He was so credible, very matter of fact.

I knew a little bit about it, but had never really researched it much. So, I went online and was immediately inundated with more information than I could read in ten years. I perused it, pulled out what I thought were the most scientific, non-I-was-abducted-by-aliens stories and read through them.

And I decided that it probably did happen. I mean, how arrogant can we be to think that we are alone in all of this?

And I don't have to take a big leap of faith to believe that there are entities who are more spiritually, medically, scientifically advanced than we are.

I just wish they would find me and take me for a little ride, maybe clear up all my health problems and answer some questions for me like:

1) Just how did we end up with Dubya for our president?
2) Can you teach me how to read minds, because I would really like to get into the heads of a few people who bewilder me?
3) Does my butt look big in these jeans and if so, how can I wamp some fat off of my ass and maybe move it to my cleavage?
4) Is there a God?
5) Can you take me to your leader because I really think there must be a better way for all of us here on Earth to get along and maybe you have some ideas?
6) What is your stand on gay marriage?
7) Can you do something about this oil crisis?
8) Is my IQ anywhere near yours?
9) What do you think of Lost? Is there an alien connection? Are you guys fucking with the oceanic seven?

I used to be a huge fan of The X Files. I can't wait until Bing and Liv get home so we can go see the movie. (Along with Batman and Hellboy.)

I want to believe, too.

I always have.

Plus, I just thought that Gillian Anderson was like the most perfect specimen of woman to walk the planet. I loved her Dana character and always said that if I could find anyone remotely like that, I would beg for her hand in fake marriage. (We homosexuals don't get to do the real thing, we only get the pretend one.) And if I couldn't have Dana, I would take Muldur. Because David Duchovny is almost as hot as Gillian. And he is already a believer, like me.

Beam us up already.

I think aliens are here. I think they are walking around and sort of laughing at us behind their hands. My hope, of course, is that they are kindly aliens. I don't want some Stephen King fantasy, just a nice ET one.

I sent a thought out to the universe last night.

Hey...ALIENS? If you are out there, this week would be a good time to nab me. Bing and Liv are gone and so you could come get me and take me for a little ride and show me your lifestyle and shit and no one would get all antsy if I wasn't here for a few days. Just none of that anal probing junk that I have read about. I don't think I am in the mood for that. But, hey...a nice cup of alien java and some good conversation would be nice. I'm up for that.

Watch out for my dog, though. He might bite. He thinks he is supposed to protect the house or me or something. Maybe he could come too. He's basically a sweet pup. He's just kind of a macho male, that's all and he likes to think he can protect the alpha woman. It's his job and he does it with verve and sass.

So..what do YOU think? Do you think we are alone here or do you want to believe too?

Things you hate to hear.

Well, I took Bing and Liv to the airport yesterday and then just came home and collapsed. I didn't realize just how weary I was until I laid down on the sofa for a little rest and woke up nearly 8 hours later! I do know that I surprised myself at the airport by NOT crying as I said goodbye.

I think I was just so tired of being onstage.

For the entire previous week, I had pretty much felt like a limp, unsteady piece of paper, but when I saw how it seemed to alarm Liv, I quickly went into Meryl Streep mode and tried to act like everything was fine, I was just a little tired.

A LITTLE TIRED?

I felt like shit. But, I managed to carry out all of my mama duties. Liv seemed content to play cards, read books together and have me supervise her in the garden, but I was worn out by it all every evening and as soon as she hit the sack, I did too.

Bing tried to help as much as she could, but she was getting a complicated presentation ready for her seminar in San Francisco and just had no time.

We all got through it.

The oddest part of my week was putting on a skirt in the morning that used to be a little snug and have it literally fall down my hips, it was THAT loose. I was astounded. I had no idea that I had lost so much weight so quickly. Bing was less surprised. ("You eat like a bird, woman.")

So, as I drove home, I felt strangely lightweight. And not just because that skirt was too big. I felt like the days of smiling and acting like everything was fine could just go out the window. If I wanted to lay down, I WOULD lay down. And I would not have to play one more damn game of crazy eights.

I think this week will be good for me. I canceled all of my appointments. I had to, didn't want to, but felt like I needed to, so I bit the bullet and just did it.

My house is loaded up with easy to reach food: cold cuts, cereal, soups. Bing saw to that.

Bing also called last night to tell me that Liv had safely been delivered to her father for a fun filled vacation of spelunking and going to Disneyland. (I already knew as Liv has called me about ten times.) Somehow, Bing and I got on the subject of

THINGS YOU HATE TO HEAR. It gave us a chuckle.

1) "Can you help me move this weekend?"
2) "Can you watch my dog when I go on vacation?"
3) "Can I borrow your _____? (Fill in the blank with your favorite cherished power tool or appliance.)
4) "Your test results are in. The doctor would like to discuss them with you. When is the earliest you can come in?" (This translates to: "You are in big trouble, missy. We found some nasty shit and can't tell you about it over the phone or you might faint. And get in here quickly because the sooner we start treatment, the longer you can stay alive.")
5) "Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately..." (We don't think you can write for shit.)
6) "Oh, NO!" (This is preceded by a loud crash and then a long shocked silence. Double whammy if it is your child who utters those words.)
7) "MAMA! I'm bleeding!" (This will always stop your heart and then restart it at 179 beats per minute in under 3 seconds flat. It is usually a head wound because they bleed like hell and look scarier than a Stephen King movie.)
8) "Mrs. Lastname? This is Ms. Badnews, your child's teacher." (They never call you to tell you how brilliant your kid is.)
9) "Honey, I have to tell you something and it is really hard for me." (Either you lost your job, you are sick, you spent a bunch of money on something really, really stupid, you forgot to renew the health insurance premium or you have met someone new who really sets your wheels in motion.)
10) "Wellll. I haven't seen anything like that in a long, long time." (This is usually said by a plumber or a repair person. If it is in regard to your car, you are so going to pay up the ass...)
11) "Mama, why is the ceiling all wet?" (That's gonna cost you...)
12) "Do you have time to talk?" (This call always comes when you are busier than snot, eating dinner, or mentally and physically exhausted. It never comes when you have time on your hands and are feeling very charitable.)
13) "Your dog just bit me!" (This is uttered by someone who insisted on playing with your dog even though you told them not to.)
14) "God, why weren't you looking?" (This is the other driver. The one you plowed into when you were woolgathering or thinking about what a rotten day it has been or trying to not listen to your toddler wailing in the back seat.)
15) "What happened to your face?" (This always comes out of the blue and you have no idea what they are talking about.)
16) "That's an interesting color." (They hate what you are wearing.)
17) "My mother just called and.." (She wants to come visit next week.)
18) "We can share a popcorn, can't we?" (This is uttered by your partner who is a total popcorn hog and will never admit it. You get like...one small handful of popcorn and she/he manages to have her/his hand in the container the rest of the time.)

Can you think of any more?

I have no idea why Bing and I got on this tangent, but it cracked us up and boy howdy, it felt so frackin' good to laugh.

And in the immortal words of Dive:

Toodle Pip!

Awakening from the dead....

I feel as if I have been asleep for a week! Oh, wait...I HAVE.

And wouldn't you know, now that I am up and actually walking around without feeling as if I might throw up all over, Bing and Liv are leaving me for a week. They leave tomorrow morning for California.

I think Liv is excited to go, especially. It has been a long week for her. All of her friends seem to be on vacation, her mother was either in bed or camped out on the sofa with a dog strewn across her, and Bing was up to her ears in preparing for her Apple presentation that she must present next week.

Liv spent LOTS of time watching television with me, playing cards with me and either reading or having me read her twisted little Goosebumps books to her. (We actually read three books in ONE week...that is how slim they are...and frankly they are HORRID, although for some reason, she adores them...)

Their bags are packed, they're ready to go. And I am just now realizing that I am actually going to be alone for one solid week. I'm feeling adrift already.

Thanks to all for your good wishes. I am doing better and have my sea legs screwed back on....

Tired

Tired this week....taking advantage of Bing being home to hold down the fort. I'll be back when I get my sea legs working again....

Can't wait to read your blogs soon. I miss that most of all.

Stood up

Liv spent the night at a friend's house last night. She called me today around noon.

"So, are you ready for me to come and pick you up?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I've been invited to go with Candace's family to Rosalyn Lake to swim today and then her Dad said that we could stop on the way home and get pizza for dinner. Can I go?"

I was a little taken back.

Liv and I had planned to go to a movie together today and then out to dinner.

But, hey...she's eight and it is very hot outside and playing in a lake with her friend is probably more appealing than spending the day with me.

So, I said sure.

We hung up after Candace's mother got on and agreed to have her home before dark.

And so, I spent the day on my own.

I can't remember the last time I have done that. It just feels plain odd.

I felt almost lonely, a little bereft. Adrift. I did a few chores, put gas in the car, dusted, and did the laundry.

Bing called and we talked for awhile. I confessed that it felt really strange to be without Liv.

She laughed. I seem to recall a time when Liv was about four and you called me in despair saying that all you really wanted was to be able to pee by yourself just once....

She's right. Liv and I were a joined-at-the-hip unit for many, many years. I honestly didn't know where she left off and I started some days. I really did have to leave the bathroom door open when I peed. Sometimes I felt almost crazy with the need to get her to bed just so that I could do anything by myself.

I remember watching Sesame Street, Barney, Teletubbies, Dora, Mister Rogers and Clifford the Big Red Dog and feeling like I. just. might. scream.

I remember hearing this and feeling like this was the song that most represented my life.

I remember reading Dr. Seuss and thinking to myself that it just might be possible to go certifiably insane from all those primary colors splayed out all over the page and the sing song verses that made me feel like a mad hatter.

I remember sitting outside and hearing the words watch me! watch me! so many times that I feared that I was raising a brazen little show off.

I remember pull ups and baby powder and sippee cups and tennis shoes with velcro. Long walks to the park and my arms aching from pushing the swing, from reaching up to help Liv work her way across the monkey bars.

I remember thanking god for pacifiers and not caring if anyone thought I let Liv have one too often. I NEEDED that silence sometimes.

I remember playing Chutes and Ladders at least ten times a day and then hiding it on top of the fridge and pretending that I had no idea where it was.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

I remember patiently taking all the steps one at a time carefully waiting while Liv pumped her legs rigorously trying to keep up. Slowly.

I remember laying in bed and hearing her padded feet in those footed pajamas coming down the hallway, knowing that soon I would have her in bed with me for the night.

I remember sleepily sitting in the tub with her while we bathed, while she splashed around with her ducks and sharks and I leaned my head against the back of the tub and wished so badly that I had a brimful glass of wine.

I remember a red snowsuit and mittens that were held together by a long red string and a fur encased hood that showcased her red cheeks after a bout in the snow. It would take ten minutes to get her ready to go outside and then she would get cold and want to come in after five minutes.

I remember cutting up everything into small bites and even cutting my own food that way out of habit.

I remember standing in a meeting and giving a talk and realizing that I was swaying back and forth as if I were holding a baby. Because that is what I usually WAS doing.

I remember croup. Sitting in a steam filled bathroom and listening to Liv's barking seal cough and watching her carefully, hoping that she didn't start choking.

I remember pedialyte freezer pops. I remember that Liv hated them and so I gave her ice chips to suck on while I ate the pedialyte freezer pops.

I remember not only her hand always in mine when we were in a public place, but her face usually in my neck if anyone tried to talk to her. I remember signing her up for a mommy and me gym class and Liv bursting into tears when the teacher asked us to all go around and say our names and it was her turn. So, I just said, This is Liv and she is very shy.

I remember her first portrait of me. I looked like a big fat porpoise and I was privately horrified but told her it was beautiful.

Even as Liv grew older, we still were very close. We always put a garden together every year, would lay outside in the grass on warm summer nights and sing to the growing vegetables. We haven't done that this year and I am not sure why....

Little by little, I noticed that she was doing things like calling friends on the phone. I remember being startled a few times to pick up the phone and have one of her friends ask "Is Liv home, please?" It just felt strange to hand the phone to her.

Eventually, her friends became fixtures at our house and she fixtures at theirs. Her friends knew that we always had juicy juice on hand. Liv knew that Candace's mother loved to bake and that there were always homemade cookies at her house.

Liv rarely climbs into bed with us anymore. She sleeps through the night and sometimes will tell me that she had a bad dream the next morning.

Why didn't you come wake me up? I will ask.

Liv will shrug. "It was just a bad dream. No big deal. Nothing to bawl about..."

Oh.

Sometimes Liv will sort of disappear and I will find her scrawled across her bed reading or playing solitaire or a computer game in her room. She is comfortable in her privacy in a way that she has never been before.

I will ask if she wants to bake some brownies (one of the few things that I actually excel at) and she will yawn and say, "No. I think I'll just read for awhile...."

This from the child who used to beg me daily to bake with her. Anything. Graham crackers with frosting in the middle, please, please, please!

And now, she is stepping away from me and I am fine with it on the outside because it is normal and good. But, on the inside, I am sort of aching all over.

I will be channel surfing and stop and watch Sesame Street for a while and get all choked up when the count sings that he is doing the batty bat.

Liv dresses herself now. She doesn't like or need me to lay clothes across her bed. She also likes to brush the snarls out of her hair by herself.

She would rather go swimming with her friend than to a movie with me on a hot, humid July day.

And this is how it should be. This is normal. This is progress. If it wasn't like this, I would be worried.

But, I missed her all day. I felt her absence keenly. I told Bing this. She was gentle with me.

"Why don't you go read your book or sit outside, try to rest up a little?" she suggests. I say that I will. She tells me that I need to conserve my energy, to just lay down on my bed and let myself have a good long nap.

In one week, both Bing and Liv will be leaving for California and I will be alone for one full week and I am just going to have to get used to it.

Isn't it funny how when they are small, you dream about when they are finally old enough to stop hanging all over you ALL OF THE TIME...but then they are growing up and it takes everything you have not to grab the back of their shirts and say, "Not so fast. Stay here. Wanna watch some television together? How about a game of Chutes and Ladders? Candy Land?"

And this is NOTHING, my friends with teenagers tell me. One day, they say, Liv will loath even speaking to me and act as if I am a stranger when we are out together in public.

Well, now I have that horribly sad poem in my head...

The little toy dog is covered with dust
but sturdy and staunch he stands.
The little toy soldier is covered with rust
and his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
and the soldier was passing fair...

Good hell. STOP.

Jesus, where did the time go?

An old friend called me a few days ago from Salt Lake City. We hadn't spoken in over a year. How does that happen? We used to talk weekly.

Soon, Liv will come stampeding into the house. Socks will dance all over the place, thrilled to have her home. I will run her a bath and she will be talking a mile a minute.

And I am going to really, really listen. Hard. Because one day, she will be out on a date and I will be thinking remember when she used to go swimming with Candace and come home with pizza all over her face?

And by then, I will be worrying that Candace drives too fast and honestly, I can't believe that Liv left the house wearing THAT.

This parenting thing is fucking hard.

Socks gets a hair cut and Maria shoots off her mouth again.

Today was errand day. I would have liked to sleep in, but awakened to find Liv and Socks, the pup in bed with me and whispering together. I turned over to look at them.

"What are you two conspiring about?" I asked.

"We're wondering when you are going to get up. We're both ready for pancakes," Liv answered. Socks nodded.

I sighed. Looked at the clock. Nearly 8. Well, okay.

We got up and padded downstairs to make the pancakes. One without chocolate chips for Socks, two with for Liv. And bacon. They both decided that bacon was needed, so I made that. Sipped my coffee. I am not a breakfast person. Food in the morning almost makes me nauseated, so I contented myself with three cups of coffee and some grapes.

We showered and I took a look at our list of errands.

1) Take Socks to the groomer.
2) Pick up new books at the library.
3) Groceries.
4) Stop at post office and pick up package that we weren't here to sign for last week.
5) Go to bank and get money out to take Liv to see Mamma Mia. (For some reason, Liv is dying to see this movie because my bff, Harriet told her that she thought the Meryl Streep character was just like your mother. I have no idea what she means since I look nothing like Meryl Streep.) Anyway, I promised her that we would see the matinee on Sunday and then go out for dinner afterwards.
6) Stop at Toys R Making Me Insane Us so that Liv can show me this one lego thing that she would like for her birthday, even though I have told her that I already purchased her gift and she would not be getting anything else.

First up: getting Socks in his dog carrier. When he was a puppy, this was not so hard. Now that he weighs 24 pounds and can contort himself into crazy positions to keep from being put into said carrier, this is a feat. I usually make Bing do the honors but since she is in Boston until Tuesday, this lucky task would be mine.

Socks associates the carrier with the vet. The one time I allowed him to not ride in his carrier in the car, he vomited all over the back seat and Liv, who screamed as if he was Regan in The Exorcist.

Liv and I talked it over.

Maybe we can sneak him in there by putting a dog treat in first. This was Liv's idea. We tried it. No dice. He looked at us warily, smelling a rat. No way was he going in there for a freakin piece of raw hot dog.

So, with both of us using all of our might, we forced him into it.

He was one furious dog. He howled. He barked. He looked at us as if we were sending him to Iraq.

And then it occurred to me that I now had to carry him out to the garage. How dumb was that?

He didn't make it easy. He acted like a mountain lion trying to escape his cage. I lurched outside, swaying from side to side, my biceps threatening to crack, my legs buckling. Liv worriedly trotted along next to me, cooing to Socks and telling him it was going to be okay. He wasn't listening. He was too busy howling with outrage.

I drove him to Belle's, a groomer that a neighbor had recommended. Socks has had a hair cut before, but it was simply a puppy cut, it wasn't a traditional cut. And he has never had a shampoo that wasn't given by either me or Bing in the basement sink. I decided that it was time. He was certainly old enough and frankly, giving him a shampoo every week was hard on me. I doubted I had the energy to do it and he was starting to carry an odor.

The little old man who runs Belle's smiled wearily when he saw us come in.

"So, this is Socks..." he said. I affirmed that, yes, this was indeed Socks.

"He doesn't look very happy today," he went on.

You think? I nodded.

"Let's get him out of there," he told me. I opened the door a tiny bit and slipped on Sock's leash. To his credit, he didn't leap out snapping, but walked out with as much dignity as he could muster, deliberately snubbing me. The little old man reached down and patted his head. Socks smiled up at him as if to say Let me come live with you. I hate alpha woman now. And her little girl too.

When we left, Socks was sitting docilely in the guy's lap getting his ears scratched and wouldn't even smile at us once.

Liv and I proceeded on with errands, Liv fretting that now Socks hated us.

"He doesn't hate us," I told her. "He is mad at us. He will get over it. It's like you get mad at me when I tell you that you can't go over to a friend's house or something. He'll get over it. Plus, I think he found it embarrassing to be shoved into a carrier like that. He hates to lose. And he feels like he lost face today."

So, we went on with our chores. I allowed Liv to ask the butcher at the grocery store for a bone for her dog. He gave her a big juicy one and she thought that this might just make up for what we had to do to him today.

We took our groceries to the front of the store. Instead of our usual shopping at a larger grocery store, we went to a smaller (but more expensive) neighborhood store. We didn't need much and I just didn't feel like I had the energy to walk up and down those huge aisles at the supermarket. This was...cozier.

The cashier was checking us out and wouldn't you know, halfway through an older woman with garishly painted red lips and dark black penned in eyebrows came elbowing up in front of me with a huge brown sack.

"I bought these potatoes here yesterday and I am bringing them back because they are already mushy," she told the cashier.

The cashier politely told her that if she would get in the back of the line, she would attend to her when it was her turn.

"But, I called the manager and he said just to bring them right back and he would refund my money," she went on, completely oblivious to the fact that not only was she interrupting MY service, but that there were about three people waiting behind me.

Again, the cashier told her to please get in line.

"I WILL NOT," the woman said, spit flying out of her big red mouth and landing on my upper arm. I shuddered a little.

"Then, um...please wait and I will go and get Fred, the manager," the cashier said. (It is a small store with no intercom.) The cashier smiled apologetically at me and left her post. I sighed. Looked down at Liv. The guy behind us muttered, "Oh, for heaven's sake..."

Big red mouth rude woman turned to me.

"Don't you just hate it when you buy faulty produce?" she asked.

I took a breath. Did I want to do this? Yes, I did.

"Yes, I do," I said, smiling sweetly. "But, do you know what I hate more?"

She looked at me expectantly.

"I hate it when someone feels as if they are entitled to push to the head of a line. It shows considerable bad manners and a bad example for my daughter who is standing right next to you and needs to learn that everyone needs to wait their turn," I told her. I smiled. Sweetly.

Big red mouth opened her mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

"Well," she sputtered. "You sure have a mouth on you."

ME??? I was fuming but didn't show it. They hate it when you don't bite back.

"I do," I agreed amiably. "I have to educate my child about good manners, you see. I want her to understand the importance of good manners."

"I am a regular patron of this store," she retorted.

"I'm not sure what that has to do with good manners...." I returned.

The cashier came up then with Fred, the manager. Fred gently took the woman's arm and led her away. She smiled triumphantly at me. Because she had won, of course. Or at least she thought she did.

The cashier finished ringing up my groceries. "That woman..." she said, shaking her head.

I didn't answer. THAT woman is everywhere. But, she won't be clomping all over me.

On the way out to the car, I noticed that Liv was pretty quiet.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She nodded. "It's just...that lady was old and maybe you should have just let her have her way," she said.

I thought about that. Was I the one who had been rude? I didn't think so. But...maybe she had a point. This woman was my elder, after all.

What do you think?

Anyway, we took the groceries home and then went to go get Socks.

The little old man led him out of the back room.

My first thought was that Socks looked utterly ridiculous. He had a little bandanna around his neck and a traditional scottie cut.

He looked...oddly distinguished. As if he should be in a movie about a dog who lived in a mansion with a prince.

His tail wagged furiously when he saw us. He ducked his head, smiling shyly.

And then I realized something.

He was feeling.....shy. Like a woman with a brand new haircut that she liked a lot but was worried that others would think was silly. He looked pleased, but a little nervous too, worried maybe.

"Socks," I told him, "You look fantastic!"

Liv sank to her knees and held out her arms. Socks gave up all his pretensions of grandeur and ran barking joyfully into her arms, stood on his hind legs to lick her generously all over her face.

"My buddy!" Liv squealed. "My sweet Socksie! You look so, so handsome!"

Socks ducked his head again, so pleased that he could hardly stand it. His black coat shone like the midnight sun and his little goatee made me realize that he was no puppy anymore.

We both thanked the little old man and I asked how Socks had done.


"Well," he said, "He is very stubborn, but once he came to realize that I was unleashing his pure handsome dog self, well...he sat quietly. He has a mind of his own, that little boy."

Yes, he does. Which is why he fits right in with this family.

Liv begged to not put Socks in his carrier and I agreed with the condition that if he threw up, she had to clean the car. She agreed.

And he didn't throw up. He sat, happy and proud next to Liv in the back seat, bobbing his head at the passing cars, as if to say, "Hello. I know am one deadly handsome dog. Yes, please look good and hard at my devastatingly sly dog looks..."

Now we are home and ready to make some stir fry for supper. Socks and Liv have been playing in the back yard together. He has held no hard feelings about this morning. He has come a long way from the puppy who loved me best of all. Now, he is big and nearly a year old and he is Liv's dog all the way. Somewhere along the way, he has realized that Liv is his soul mate instead of me. He is the one who keeps all of her secrets. He sleeps with her, begs her to play to fetch and even allows her to hold his front paws and dance him around.

Liv will leave for her sleep over at a friend's home soon and then I will sit down with my new book from the library and Socks the dignified dog will sit next to me and look up and smile at me from time to time.

The house will be quiet. And maybe Bing will call and we will make up and then I will go to sleep and have good dreams about dogs and little girls and old ladies who have good manners and no painted-on eyebrows....

Four screaming girls and a marital spat.

No, the screaming girls aren't because Bing is away on business and the mouse is playing while the cat is away....

I let Liv invite three friends over to play today. I know. What was I thinking?

She often has a friend over to play or goes to their homes to play. But, for some reason, she invited one friend over and then another one called to invite her over and I told her that she might as well invite that friend over too and then it seems that the other friend got a call from another girl in their class to play and Liv thought it might be fun to have her over as well...

And that is how I ended up with four hard playing fourth graders in my house today. They all go to Liv's school and I like all of them. But, in retrospect...yeah...four is too many unless it is a birthday party or something.

They DID have fun. They listened to music and danced. They played with Socks. They had a water balloon fight in the back yard. They created a family of clay people. They drew pictures.

They went up in the attic and played. For some reason, this ended up with all four girls running down the stairs screaming and laughing so hard that they had to lay on the floor together in a heap of sweaty girl pile.

By the time that the last girl was picked up at 5:30, I was exhausted and sick of the sheer noise that four girls can create. High pitched squealing. The conversations that buzz a mile a minute.

Liv and I had a quiet dinner and she settled in with one of her hideous Goosebump books on the sofa. I was just relieved to have peace. And tomorrow Liv heads over to one of the girl's houses for a sleepover, so it will be another soft night for me. Who would have guessed that just a year ago she hated to even have play dates at other people's homes? She only wanted friends to visit us, never to go over to their house. Now, she has such an active social life that I feel like I spend most of my time in the car either picking someone up, taking someone home or toting Liv around to meet her friends or go to their homes.

Not that I am complaining. I am very glad that she has a big circle. I never did. I have been a one-person friend for most of my life. I never had a big circle of friends, usually enjoyed a best friend and was fine with that. Now that I am older, my circle is wider, but while I have several friends, I only have about three really good ones, ones that I truly enjoy spending lots of time with.

So, it looked like it would be a nice, sweet, quiet night.

And then Bing called.

She and I talked for a short while, she had experienced a busy day and so had I and neither one of us was really in the mood to spend a long time chatting. She asked to say hello to Liv and I put her on. Liv curled up on the sofa and began her long dialog about her day:

We had SO much fun! Constance, Candace and Willa came over. YES. All three of them! And guess what? Mama made us pizza for lunch. Cheese pizza because you know that Candace and Willa are vegetarians, but we brought in lots of tomatoes from the garden and we put them and a whole bunch of extra cheese on the pizza and it was so good! And then, guess what? We were playing in the tree house in the back yard and we heard the ice cream man coming in his truck. So I ran in and begged Mama and she gave us money to buy bomb pops! Mine was banana. And then...hey, did I tell you that I am going to get a trophy because I placed in the swimming finals?.....

There was a short silence and then I heard Liv say:

Well, let's see. Um...we had the pizza for lunch and um..what? No, Mama didn't eat any. She said she wasn't in the mood.

Another short silence. And then she continued:

I can't remember what we had for breakfast. Um...wait, yeah...I had a scrambled egg and honey toast. Um..I don't know. No, Mama gave Socks the leftover scrambled eggs on my plate. I don't know what she had for breakfast...For dinner, though, we had grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches. And Mama let me have iced coffee! And carrots! We had carrots from the garden! And then I got to have chocolate chip ice cream for dessert. And guess what? Tomorrow at the grocery store, Mama is going to buy chicken and we are going to cut it up for stir fry for dinner and use ALL the rest of of our garden vegetables in it! The carrots, some beans, with a baby lettuce salad and some peas too! Hey, did I tell you that....oh, okay. Well, here she is. Bye, Bing. I love you too...

I was furious. I kept my voice modulated and calm until Liv went off to her bedroom with her book and then I let Bing have it:

Why must you always quiz MY (I am mean that way....instead of saying our daughter, I tend to say my daughter when I am angry with Bing. It is a mean spirited habit that I need to break) daughter about FOOD? You make me feel like a fucking anorexic! I. AM. EATING. Now, instead of quizzing Liv about my eating habits, maybe you could fuss a little about HER important news, like the swimming trophy she is going to get or I don't know...this is just off the fucking TOP of my head...but maybe you could ask her about her day and then FUCKING listen instead of interrupting her and asking her questions about my eating habits!

Bing was defensive.

She said that she DOES ask about Liv's day but that she wants to make sure that I am taking care of myself too.

I told her that I was fifty years old, good hell. I was very capable of taking care of myself.

We were at a stand off. She wasn't going to apologize and neither was I. So, we agreed to say goodnight and speak again tomorrow. She started to say some nonsense about talking to you when you have calmed down a little bit and I interrupted her to say that if she continued to talk to me in that sanctimonious tone that I would hang up right this second.

She sighed. I sighed. We said goodnight.

I hate fighting with my wife. And maybe I am ultra sensitive. Maybe I should feel lucky that she cares enough to quiz Liv about me, but I dunno...I just stood there listening to Liv's part of the conversation and became more and more angry.

Probably it was just a long day for both of us. I was tired and cranky after my day of listening to 8 and 9 year olds clomping around dancing to music that was too loud for my taste. I was tired of the high pitched squeaking noises that they make, like mice on speed. Tired of how freakin messy four girls can be. Tired of their sandals laying all over the house. I was tired of cloudy humid air and jealous of Bing's life. I wanted to be the healthy, energetic one who gets to leave on a jet plane and go to a really interesting seminar and meet people who are fascinating and get to eat out at nice restaurants every night.

Liv hadn't mentioned that I bought chocolate chips at the grocery store this morning and promised that she and I would have chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast tomorrow.

Did I mention that I DETEST making pancakes? That they are messy and the first one always has to go to the birds because it never turns out perfectly browned? I want to order fucking ROOM SERVICE for breakfast from a hotel room where someone else will make my bed and leave me little soaps and shampoos to use.

I want someone else to brush out the dog.

I am just tired. And even though I know that Bing is having a good time, I suppose she is tired too. Tired of sitting though all those lectures, all those long brainstorming sessions around a conference table.

Maybe she wishes she were home making chocolate chip pancakes.

Of course, Socks the dog will be VERY glad that I am the one doing the pancakes because I always let him eat one and Bing does not believe that dogs should EVER eat people food. I keep the chocolate chips out of his pancake, though....

She also doesn't know that when I gave Liv money to buy bomb pops that I told her to buy one for Socks too.

I think I'll let Socks out for a pee run in the back yard late tonight again. Maybe the Birkenstocks will be lighting up again....

Tomorrow is another day. And it will be a good one, I'm sure. Liv and I will make those chocolate chip pancakes and then go get our errands done and come home and have an early supper so that she can get to her sleepover.

And then I will be alone in the house and Bing will call to say goodnight and maybe we can talk more easily, more kindly to each other.

Maybe I will be sorry for acting like a bitch on the phone tonight. Or maybe I won't. Probably I won't because I tend to always think that I am very, very right and Bing is very, very wrong. Even when I privately know that we are both right at times, just see the world differently...well..I still don't back down easily.

But, yes. We will talk tomorrow and get past this bump. Come down easily on a better conversation.

I will say something funny and she will laugh or vice versa. Probably vice versa because she is much more droll than I am. I tend towards sarcastic wit and she tends toward the droll wit. Hers is easier, softer, better.

Tomorrow will be better. And there will not be four screaming girls in my house, dancing wildly with their heads thrown back and their arms out in the air. Socks the dog will not be barking because they are loud and jumpy and it makes him go a little dog-mad. There will not be stray crayons and markers under my dining room table.

And maybe I will miss that.

No, probably not...but maybe I will look back on it...fondly.

Because when you are sitting alone in a dark house, you sort of miss the noise that four little girls make.

Conversations

Bing left for Boston on Monday. Nirand and Tinton are gone as well, so it is just Liv and me this week until Bing comes home on Tuesday of next week.

I had dreaded her leaving. She is traveling a lot this summer and when she does come home again, she will leave again in a few days for San Francisco and take Liv with her to meet up with Tinton for Liv's mini vacation and birthday bash at Disneyland.

I will be alone for one full week. How many times have I dreamed about being totally by myself without having to drive anyone anywhere or see that they are properly cared for and fed? How many times have I wished to just spend my days and evenings alone with myself and a good book, no interruptions? MANY times.

But, now...of course, I am dreading it. Too much time on my hands has proven sort of dangerous for me. I sit around with my doomsday scenarios, thinking of just how awful things could be. Will they come to pass? Is there any way to avoid them?

I go around in circles, tedious, vicious circles. And then I force myself to stop this shit now and get a grip. I pick up my book, read a few blogs, watch some mindless (and really...aren't they pretty much ALL mindless shows in the summer?) television.

I get hamster-on-a-wheel syndrome.

I have had some interesting conversations this week, though:

1) I had dinner with my sister last night. I walked Liv over to my neighbor's house so that they could babysit. Hal and Nora are in their seventies and are Liv's favorite sitters, hands down. They have albums and albums of show tunes and it is because of them that Liv knows songs like Tradition!, I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair, and The Lusty Month of May.

Liv was excited. Probably at the prospect of a real dinner....

I admit that I suck in the meal department. I hate cooking and when left to our own devices, we often have oatmeal, yogurt and toast or cold cereal for dinner. Sandwiches. Or we order out. Liv never complains, but it is one of those things that I feel guilty about. I am sure that in twenty years she will be sitting in her therapist's office saying things like Well, I know that my mother tried, but I felt so unloved because she didn't seem to be able to produce good, nutritious meals for me. She would slap two slices of bread around some deli roast beef and call it a dinner...

I met my sister at my favorite Thai restaurant. Here is the one good thing about getting a bad medical diagnosis: People let you pick things. Bing let me pick the movie I wanted to see last weekend. I picked this one. And you should see it...fantastic. Liv loved it too. It generated a lot of talk in the car ride home about illegal immigrants and I think she needs to think about this sort of thing, find her stance.

Anyway, when my sister called to ask me to meet her for dinner and I asked where she wanted to go, she immediately said, "Your pick." She NEVER says that. And I think it is because of that damn diagnosis.

It occurs to me that I should start asking people for things....I mean, this whole thing sucks the big one, so why not reap SOME benefits, huh? :)

So, I picked this Thai restaurant that has the best coconut soup on the planet. We sat in a booth, me taking small careful bites of my delicious soup. Patrice sat across from me eating her fried rice and vegetables with salmon. She reached across the table and took my hand.

I sighed. I hate this sort of thing and I could feel it coming.

"I just want you to know, Maria, that all of your sisters have been praying for you. I even put your name in our prayer box at St. Bobby's. I'm thinking that this will show some results soon," she said.

I looked at her. Was she really that obtuse? Did she really think that prayer was going to make me well? I mean, honestly, if that was all it took, wouldn't we all be in stellar health?

I thanked her for her prayers. Told her that if she wanted to pray for me, that was fine, but to please pray for me to find strength, not to get cured. I didn't think that was God's department.

She smiled at me in that patronizing way that big sisters and religious zealots have.

"I want you to think about something," she told me, still gripping my hand.

I nodded warily.

"I want you to think about coming back to the Catholic Church and coming to mass every week faithfully. Maybe you need to let God know that you are sorry for leaving and that you hope that this show of faith and good will might cause him to take pity on you and take away your illness."

I removed my hand from hers and just sat there staring at her. This made her nervous, which pleased me to no end.

"You are not allowed to go there with me. Ever," I told her. "If you think for one damn second that this happened to me because I wasn't religious enough, not pious enough, good hell...you can just take a flying leap, okay?"

She sat back, smiled nervously. Did this flapping thing with her hand as if she were swatting at a pesky fly. I looked down at the plate of appetizers she had ordered, the spring rolls with their bowl of bright red sauce. I pictured taking one, rolling it generously in the sauce and then aiming it for her little bobbed nose. She was wearing a bright yellow top. It would hold a red stain so nicely.....

Instead, I took another bite of my soup. And then another. I let her change the subject. She began talking about our sister Jessie's daughter, Lyndsay. What did I think of her new boyfriend? He had an earring!

Oh, the shock of it all. An earring. An earring was the least of Jessie's worries. Lyndsay had confided in me that they were using condoms as birth control....

I was relieved when the evening ended and allowed her to moistly hug me as we reached our prospective cars.

"Never forget how much you are loved," she said.

I nodded. She is doing her best. I am doing my best. But, when I think of who I can lean on? Her name doesn't come up.

I picked Liv up. Hal and Nora had pulled out all the stops at dinner, made fried chicken and mashers, a green bean casserole and buttermilk biscuits. Vess soda pop to drink and even blueberry pie for dessert.

I should have asked them to babysit me too....

On the way home, Liv sang If I Were a Rich Man. The whole thing. And it made me smile.

2) After I got Liv to bed, I decided to take Socks out into the back yard for a pee run since I know he has not gotten nearly enough exercise lately with Bing gone. I opened the back door and let him out, walked around a bit looking at my garden. It is doing badly this year. Too much rain and too much wind. I heard a soft whistle and my name was called. I squinted into the night. It was the Birkenstocks. That is not their real name. It is what Bing and I call them. They both wear Birkenstocks, both look like they have just stepped out of a Cheech and Chong movie. Stanley, the husband, mows their lawn in the wee hours of the morning. He rides his mower and sings. He doesn't care if anyone would rather sleep. He sometimes does this naked. His wife, Aggie, is agoraphobic. She has not left their house in over ten years. She can go as far as their yard and that is all. She has hair down to her ass and a soft expression. They have a cat who is like their child. Aggie is also afraid of air conditioning. This is almost funny since Stanley comes from one of the oldest heat and air conditioning company families in Nebraska. It is where his monthly inheritance check comes from.

Stanley doesn't work. He mostly just putters around the yard and gets things at the store for Aggie. He is crazy about her. They met at a Grateful Dead concert about fifteen years ago and have been attached to each other ever since. He is solicitous of her, never makes fun of her fear of leaving the house. When we have block parties, he will bring her cups of icy cold punch while she stands tentatively in their back yard watching everyone talk. Someone usually meanders over to her and chats with her for awhile.

Anyway, Stanley and Aggie were smoking joints. As I neared where our fences separate our yards, I could smell the too sweet smell of what my shocked sister would refer to as maryjane (and think she was being sophisticated.)

I stepped to the fence. Stanley held out his hand.

"Want a drag?"

I considered. I had not smoked weed since my sister Jessie was diagnosed with breast cancer several years ago. It hadn't been because I have any objections to grass, I just didn't see the need and I always keep in mind that I have to be a role model for Liv, so I keep all drinking and smoking to a bare minimum, if even that.

I held out my hand. He placed a nice fat lit joint into it. I leaned in and took a deep, satisfying drag. It went nicely into my lungs, and I felt it swirl around inside of me pleasantly. I handed the joint back to him. He took a drag and handed it to Aggie. She took a drag. We all smiled.

I was offered another drag and took it. Just one more, I thought. It wasn't enough to get me high, but enough to make my spine feel pleasantly loose.

We visited for awhile about what a weird summer it had been. How cold June was. How it won't stop raining. Socks came and stood next to me, nudging his cold nose against my bare ankle.

I told the Birkenstocks that it was time to turn in, it was Liv's last day of swim practice tomorrow.

Stanley told me to wait a moment, he had just thought of something important he wanted to say to me. I waited.

"You look like Wendy in Peter Pan in that white nightgown," he told me.

Aggie nodded dreamily. "You do. You look just like Wendy," she said.

I smiled. Socks and I headed back into the house while Stanley and Aggie settled down into the grass to gaze up at the moon.

Well, I would love to be Wendy. I would love to find Peter Pan in my bedroom and help him sew on his shadow and then maybe I could go find Neverland for a night...

An escape hatch. I wouldn't mind one.

The phone rang. It was Bing calling to say goodnight. She was upbeat, enjoying her Apple seminar. She told me about her day. I told her about mine. Told her about the Birkenstocks and she laughed. Then she asked me the question. The one that bugs the hell out me.

Are you eating enough?"

I hate this question because it makes me feel like I am fourteen and she is my mother. But, it is a good question. I tend to forget to eat when I am upset. And I have been upset, yes. Privately so, but so. I am also a type one diabetic, so not eating is dangerous. Last week, I had to practically force feed myself since my stomach would not settle down. When I pulled on my jean shorts this morning, they were very loose. So, I have been trying to be more careful about eating. But, nevertheless, I resent the question.

Bing worries. I told her that, of course, yes, I had eaten. I had actually gone out to dinner with my sister and had a bowl of soup and a spring roll.

So there.

"When I get back, let's take Liv out to Dairy Queen and get girl scout thin mint blizzards," she suggested. I told her that yes, we would do that. I told her that I wa glad she was having such a successful trip.

"I feel guilty for having a good time," she said. "Isn't that stupid?"

I assured her that yes, it was stupid. She was supposed to have a good time. The last thing I wanted was for her to sit around stewing over me. I heard her small sigh over the phone.

We said our goodnights and hung up.

I went around and shut off the lights and then climbed up the steps to check in on Liv and go to bed myself. I've been sleeping oddly lately, very deeply. My sleep is a deep velvet black box that I sink into with an almost heady sense of need. I don't remember my dreams anymore and I have always been one to remember them. Now, it is as if my body is cutting me off from them, forcing me into a deep dark void where I can simply....let go of everything for awhile.

Liv was sound asleep. I sat on the side of her twin bed and ran my finger up her arm, stoking it gently. I ran my fingers over her hair, Medusa like now with all that chlorine build up that refuses to come completely out no matter what I have tried.

Oh, well. Swim team will be over on Saturday and she will get her soft, golden locks back. I felt her shift slightly in her sleep and decided on a whim to crawl in with her for awhile. I gently shrugged her over and lay on my side, my arm closing around her.

Her bed is really too small for two people, but I wouldn't linger long. I just needed to...

Yes. Just needed to breathe her in. Smell her. Listen to her soft intake of air, in and out, in and out.

I hummed softly. Rubbed my nose against her head. She stirred but didn't awaken. I realized that I was humming this song. Wondered what it's significance was.

I thought about how glad I was that Liv has a village. So many people who love her and will look out for her if I can't. I plan to be here, but there is a comfort in knowing that she is loved so much by so many.

The weed was wearing off and I decided to go get into my own bed before it wore off completely. Might as well use it as a nice sleeping pill tonight.

I carefully slid out of the bed and Socks took my place. I patted his head. Good boy. He smiled up at me.

I went into my bedroom and sat looking out of my window for awhile, looking for signs of Peter Pan, of Tinkerbell.

No luck tonight. Oh, well...I was in no mood to chase a shadow around a room anyway.

I tucked myself into bed and stretched my legs out, pointing my toes.

Maybe I would have a really good dream, I thought. Or not. Either way, life would go on. I was just one small woman on the prairie. Not so different from one small woman in New Jersey, New York, Colorado, South Dakota, Tennessee. We all get our share of pain, of joy, of redundancy, of renewal.

And we are all here, all together, even if it feels like we are very, very alone sometimes.

Might as well.....

I had a conversation with Bing a couple of nights ago.

We were sitting outside on a hot muggy night after finally getting Liv to bed.

I was watching fireflies. Still feeling like a stranger in my own skin. She was sitting next to me, trying to figure out how to deal with me. Bing is not a wordsmith. She isn't comfortable sitting around discussing her feelings or anyone else's either. Neither one of us talk much on that level.

But, it had been a tough week. I had made the decision (which Bing disagreed with) not to share with Liv my medical news. Well, not NOW anyway. It was hard enough telling everyone else and having to deal with those drippy, sympathetic looks. Not that they were not appreciated, but I simply don't do well with them. I'd rather not talk about that elephant in the room. Call me in denial, call me unattached to my pain, call me whatever...I just deal with things better if I don't have to sit around talking about my feelings. My feelings stay in my head and I deal with them by sitting in hot baths and thinking, thinking, thinking my way out of the box. Crying privately. But hand holding? Wailing and gnashing of teeth? Moist eyed looks? It sort of makes my skin crawl.

So, I really didn't want to talk about this except on a this is our plan of action level.

Bing asked me how I was doing, if I needed anything.

I told her that right now I was thinking that I would sort of like to get out of my own skin for awhile.

"Maybe like fall down a flight of stairs and wake up like Dorothy and have everyone tell me that I had just had this really strange dream..."

Bing chuckled. Well, she said...there's the ladder...

She pointed at the ladder that was standing against the side of the house where she and our neighbor had spent the previous night tossing dead tree limbs off the house.

Might as well jump...she said.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Thank you, Van Halen," I said.

We both laughed.

But, it got me thinking. And, yeah, this song pretty much says it all for me right now.

In a good way, of course.

And now, each and every time Bing is near a piano, she does her Eddie Van Halen imitation for me with those beginning chords. I might add that he is one of her personal guitar heroes. She thinks he is brilliant.

But, she makes me laugh. And I have found that once I laugh, I actually am two steps away from crying.

She really is just about perfect for me, isn't she?

Who else would know EXACTLY what to say?

You rock, Bing. Even more than Eddie....

A deep breath.

Okay. Begin.

I had some bad medical news on Monday. No, I don't want to share about it. Not yet. It is still very new and very daunting and right now I am simply trying to put one foot in front of the other.

I don't think I can stand to have everyone patting me and feeling badly for me but at the same time, I need to keep the blog going. I always thought that it would be great for Liv to look back on it when she is older and now, more than ever, it feels important that I write down our story.

Except, I know...I'm not being very clear.

I can't. Not yet. Suffice it to say that I have enough medical knowledge to know that right now I have a reason to be very frightened.

But, I am not alone. Bing is home and we are dealing with things. She leaves for Boston on Tuesday for a week and by that time, I will have swallowed all my tears.

I have not told Liv and I do not intend to tell her unless it becomes impossible. I intend to just keep everything as normal as possible for her for as long as possible. And I might just be able to pull it off. I might get lucky and this will all be something she can read about in ten years or so and feel very glad that all worked out so well and she didn't have to suffer through it with me.

I don't enjoy NOT talking about it, but I admit that it is what I need. I need to just...have it sit in my brain for awhile until I feel more comfortable talking about it on the blog.

I'm back and I will be fine. So, no sympathy please.

I had thought about deleting the blog, but that seemed counterproductive when so much of it was written with Liv in mind. And I enjoy writing in it.

But, in saying that, I will also admit that I am in a dark place right now and I might not get to be as pithy or as smart ass as you are used to seeing around here.

But, I'm here.

I'll start reading your blogs again soon and I am so looking forward to that.

Bing leaves for Boston on Tuesday and my goal is that I will have every tear shed by then and be ready to act more like myself and less like I'm shell shocked.

It is good to have goals, yes?

And I have so many right now...

So, thanks for your patience and we will be returning to your scheduled program very soon....

Blogging Break

I need to take a blogging break. Just...too much to deal with right now. Thanks for your time and patience.

Maria's family goes to church.

Nirand was playing a church gig to fill in for Bing today. He plays piano and it paid 300 smackers, so he thought he could handle it, went in for a rehearsal yesterday and said that it was pleasurable, all the other guys in the band were friendly.

So, Tinton, Liv and I decided to get gussied up and attend a church service at a Presbyterian church in the very west part of the city, a wealthy, wealthy area. And Bing had played many other Presbyterian gigs and they had always been enjoyable.

I decided that I wanted to go vamp girly girl. Not slutty vamp, just a little Jolie meets the church lady. Liv was easy, she had this to wear and she looks absolutely stunning in it.

As for me, well...I looked through my closet. I took out my blue pastel sundress but decided that it was too low cut. I eventually settled on a short sleeved white eyelet dress that Bing always liked and I had only worn twice. I went for my ballet flats and then decided to get all daring and found a pair of white heels to wear. I knew that I would pay for my vanity later, but what the hell. Sometimes, a woman just has to go all girl.

I started to slap on my usual lip gloss and be done with it and then stopped myself.

No. I needed a little sumpin sumpin.

I pulled out the blue kohl eyeliner and gave myself some drama around the eyes. Instead of the safe bamboo pink lipstick, I went for the cherries in the snow and swiped a bit across my cheeks and blended it in. Put on lots and lots of mascara.

Then, I bent over and gave my hair a glop of putty to make it stick up a bit, give it some good tousle and texture. My hair is growing a bit now and I liked the look I came up with, a bit of a bed head, but not too slutty.

Liv came in and inspected me.

"Wow," she said. "You look a lot like Zach and Cody's mom. I wasn't thrilled. This is a character from one of those insipid Disney shows that she watches from time to time.

I was sort of going for a look more like this.

Oh, well. When you are fifty years old, you settle for something a little less dangerous, I suppose.

Liv and I went out to the living room hand in hand to give Tinton a fashion show. He smiled and whistled.

"I feel like some Amish guy who walked into Vogue by mistake," he commented. He did indeed look a bit Amish in his plain white shirt and black jeans. I told him that I thought that Bing had an old straw hat in the shed outside,if he was interested.

I also informed him that I had not worn high heels in months and that it was going to be his job to keep me upright when I walked. He chuckled and agreed to not let me splat all over the ground if he could help it.

And so we were off to church on this humid July sunday.

The church was sort of what I expected from the outside. Over air conditioned to an almost remarkable degree, Liv and I immediately sprouted goose bumps as we walked in. The inside of the church was elegant, yet spare, like a lot of Presbyterian ones in the west end of town. It said we have money, but we aren't going to flaunt it or go all incense crazy like those Catholics... The congregation seemed to be mostly older folks, lots of flowery polyester dresses for the women and suits for the men. The younger ones were less formal, but their faces showed a faint disapproval of my kohl eyeliner with the gold flecks and my bright red lips.

We found seats as close to Nirand at the piano as we could. He looked sharp in his white starched shirt and black pants. He waved. We waved back.

And the service started. It was nice, for the most part. The music was very subtle and soft. Nirand's fingers played gently across his piano, a flute player stood next to him, a huge buxom blonde woman who looked a bit comical with that tiny little flute next to her large lips. Two men with violins stood behind him, one man closed his eyes when he played and looked surprised to see us every time he opened his eyes after a tune.

And then the sermon began. It started out as your regular run-of-the-mill we must be tolerant and kind of all types of people lectures. But, soon, it became more pointed.

The minister spoke of how he had been approached by a city coalition to be part of a team who worked to unite all facets of the city. How they wanted to show unity towards gay people, towards agnostics and atheists, the poor black people of the projects...you know....those kinds of people.

He didn't say the unclean but his nose turned up just enough to let us know that well, he didn't have to. We all knew, didn't we?

Well, now...he prayed over this, he said. He knew that god loved all of his children. But, hey, wasn't it also part of his ministry, his duty, really to show his goodness, his piety, by example.

He knew that he could not in good conscience join this coalition, how could he when he knew that his beliefs did not gel with those of the group?

Well, I understand having the courage of one's convictions, I just didn't understand how he associated this with christianity. He did use the word tolerance a great deal, as if we should all show tolerance for this very unclean, unworthy group of people even if well, okay...they did stink and all that.

I could feel my teeth sinking together. I could feel Tinton stiffening next to me, looking carefully down at me. I knew that if I got up and left, he would follow suit. And then I looked at Nirand up on the altar with his musical group. His face was unreadable, calm.

I sat back and decided to just um...tolerate this minister.

I did wish sorely that I had opted to dress in my tee shirt that said, Hey Mister! Got a sister?, though. But, oh well....the eyeliner and red lips would have to do. And I would not be donating my usual five bucks to the collection plate, a practice that I had started long ago with Liv when we went to Bing's church gigs.

I looked down at Liv. She was studying her white patent leather shoes, smiling softly.

After the service, we walked out and past the minister who grabbed my hand heartily and shook it.

"I don't think I have seen you here before, sister," he told me, smiling happily. "Won't you join us downstairs for some refreshments?"

I told him in the sweetest, lowest voice that I could manage that yes, I was a visitor, but that I would not be returning to his church. That I thought his sermon was very unchristian and that no, I could not join them downstairs for refreshments as I feared I would choke on them. But, hey...the music that day had transcended all of the ungodliness of the sermon. And that piano player? My, he was a gem....

He kept his smile plastered to his face the entire time. He was obviously not easily thrown and could care less what I thought.

"Goodbye, then, dear," he said, warmly and then he smiled down at Liv. "And goodbye to you, my lovely little butterfly..."

Liv smiled politely and we all walked to the car. Tinton breathed a sigh of relief as we got in.

"I was sort of concerned that one of your high heels would go flying during that sermon," he commented.

"You have got to be kidding me," I told him. "These are Ferragamos! No way am I losing them,...."

We talked to Liv on the way home about the sermon but it was clear from the get-go that she had not been listening. Chip off the old block, I thought. I remembered from my childhood doing the same thing. I used to make up stories in my head during sermons. I hoped she had done the same.

Nirand came home a few minutes later, smiling serenely.

I asked him what he thought of the sermon.

He looked blank. "Oh, I didn't listen," he said. "I never listen to those kinds of things. I was looking at how beautifully shined and cared for that piano was..."

And it suddenly occurred to me how funny it would be if no one had listened to that pompous windbag's words.

Fingers crossed.

Liv and I slid out of our fancy duds and slipped into shorts and tees. I put on my I can't even think right! tee shirt.

Tinton went to mow the lawn, Liv and I set out to weed the garden and Nirand began preparations for our last dinner together. He and Tinton leave tomorrow morning for North Dakota and Bing comes home tomorrow night.

Just another pleasant valley sunday.

Maria buys a power tool.

Get your mind outta there. No dildo for this girl.

No, sirree, bob. I set out to buy Bing a hedge trimmer today. We have loads of bushes all around our home, they frame our back fence, our backyard grilling area and all around the house. Lilac bushes, hydrangea bushes, a burning bush, a mountain laurel, witch hazel, spice bushes, goldflame spiraea and our newly planted garden gift to Liv this year: a lucy rose of sharon.

But, that is a helluva lot of bushes to trim. Plus lots and lots of low slung fiddleback ferns and evergreens. We have a big yard with climbing roses and even a blackberry bush that has sprung out of nowhere this year, a hardy volunteer who looks like he will grow big and tall quickly, like Sven. This does not even include our flower garden (bachelor's buttons, bleeding hearts, peonies, roses, gerber daisies and sunflowers), and a vegetable and herb garden. We are backyard farmers. Even Liv knows how to properly prune a rose bush...gently, gently...roses have tender feelings and know it when you clip without tenderness.

But, we have never purchased a hedge trimmer. Bing borrows the one from the high school where she teaches, a big ungainly looking gas hedge trimmer that causes her biceps to bulge prettily, but I can tell that it pains her deeply after more than a half hour.

So, with that in mind, and a budget of one hundred dollars, I set off to find the perfect trimmers today, with Tinton, Nirand, and Liv in tow.

We entered the garden store and the other three immediately got caught up in the 30% off flowers. Liv and I have a deal. When we go to stores, she can choose one flower to plant in our backyard, provided that it is one that we do not already have. She engaged Nirand and Tinton to help her find the perfect specimen.

And I headed inside the store to take a look.

I thought it would be so easy. It never occurred to me that there would be shelves and shelves upon shelves of hedge trimmers. I thought of my fellow blogger, Billy, who would probably know exactly what I needed and proceed to proclaim me an idiot in his cranky way about my lack of research about hedge trimming.

A male employee immediately smelled my rube scent. Or maybe it was the pink sundress or the fact that I looked completely and totally flabbergasted.

You could just see him thinking, Ah, fresh young lamb meat in my wolfie aisle...

He asked if he could assist me. His name tag said that he was Jeff and would love to help me.

"Um, well, yeah. I'm looking for some hedge trimmers."

He immediately launched into a plethora of questions. Was low emission important to me? (Um, yeah, I guess.) Well, then they had a nice John Deere commercial M series that might take my fancy. How about single sided verses double sided? (huh?) Anti-vibration mounting?

The panic in my eyes must have shown because his face became happily diabolical. Was I more interested in decorative or practical function?

I nearly giggled. I don't think that Bing thinks too much of how decorative she looks trimming hedges, although I admit that I find her very attractive when she gets all butch sweaty, hair curling with humidity and the freckles on her face prominent. But, I wasn't about to tell Jeff that. His adam's apple was already too bumpy.

I frowned. Practical function, of course.

Well, then perhaps I would be interested in A Stihl or a Little Wonder 2420. The Stihl had the advantage of extended length, but the Little Wonder had double reciprocating blades....

This all began to sound oddly sexual to me and I found myself biting my lip just a little bit.

Or perhaps I would like to look at a Craftsman 79957? It had a lock switch to prevent trigger finger fatigue.

Oh, dear. I was perilously close to smirking.

Jeff also suggested gas instead of electric. It had more power and a cleaner cut.

I nodded, trying to look as if I cared.

Luckily, just then, Tinton rounded the corner with Liv dancing behind him, a large pot of coral bells in her arms.

Jeff's face fell. You could see the wheels turning in his brain: Uh oh, here comes the hubby....

His whole demeanor changed. Instead of looking helpful and masterful, he changed his tactic to respectful and man-to-man.

I resented this. I felt like I always do when I get the oil changed in my car. Like they can smell that I will say okay if they tell me I need a new air filter.

Nirand came up behind me, a flat of sweet peas in his arms.

"You must plant these. They will be gorgeous in that area next to the blackberry bush," he told me sweetly.

Jeff looked overwhelmed. TWO men.

I introduced the guys to Jeff and asked what they thought.

Tinton took one piercing look up and down at the choices and immediately picked up a Black and Decker model, an electric one that had a price tag of 50 bucks.

Nirand nodded, agreeing.

Jeff sighed. He smelled a loss of about a hundred bucks at least. He had been showing me models that cost nearly 200 dollars even though I had specified that I only had 100 to spend.

Jeff's eye wandered to a small white haired woman looking timidly at weed whackers. He smiled congenially at us and left us to ourselves.

We headed to the check out counter and I bought the hedge trimmers and told Liv to either pick the coral bells or the sweet peas, not both. Nirand grandly offered to purchase the sweet peas.

They are begging to belong to your garden, Maria. You must not deny the wish of the sweet pea...

I said fine.

On the way home, I groused about how easy it was to be a man in a gardening/tool shop.

"I didn't see Jeff trying to get you all flustered over single versus double siding..." I pouted.

"You have to walk in there like Bing would," said Tinton. "Walk like you know what the hell you want and do some research so you don't look so clueless."

I yawned. Research on hedge trimmers? That sounded plain fucking boring.

We stopped at Whole Foods to pick up some clear henna wax and vinegar (thanks to everyone who had such great suggestions on what to do about Liv's pool hair) and Tinton managed to sneak some cranberry muffins in the cart for a treat when we sit on the back porch tonight.

I sat in the front seat while Tinton drove and propped my feet on the dashboard. I was feeling very fucking butch. I'd just purchased my first power tool. I'd never use it since good hell, I don't care to have noticeable biceps and gardening is the extent of my outside labor. I almost asked Tinton to stop at the cigar store so I could run in and buy me a big fat cigar, but since I am this role model for Liv, I have to behave.

Tomorrow, we are trying out a new church, a Presbyterian one. A call came in for Bing asking her to sub for their regular piano player for Sunday service, but since she isn't here, Nirand, who plays piano, offered to take the gig. I will wear my little pale blue dress and maybe even my Jackie Kennedy pillbox hat that matches it perfectly. Slingback white sandals. Liv can wear her new pink sleeveless shift.

But, I will smile wickedly, because I just bought a power tool.

Vroom. Vroooom.

A pretty fair fourth

Tinton and Liv left for Rosenblatt stadium earlier to watch the Omaha Royals play their baseball and will stay for the fireworks show afterwards. Liv will get her hot dog, her nachos and her day with her father. She is happy.

Nirand opted to stay home with me. He said that he wasn't much into baseball and that he would get some mulligatawny going in our crock pot to cook all day. And then he offered to spend the day doing whatever I wanted.

What I wanted was to see Wanted. And so we did. We took in an early showing of it and there was only one other person in the theater with us, a rather stout man with a red, white and blue bandanna on his head who seemed to love the movie so much that he could barely remain in his seat.

After the movie, Nirand insisted on having me drive him to Ralston, a local suburb, to buy some sparklers. So, we did.

We came home and he checked his soup, pronounced that it would be ready by 7 and suggested that we take a walk to "get some of the gratuitous Amurican violence out of our souls."

I agreed. Wanted was a pretty bloody, pretty awful movie. Well, there was James McAvoy, the only reason that I wanted to see it in the first place....

I mentioned this as we walked. Our hands were linked, not in a boyfriendly/girlfriendly way, but more in what I have come to believe is an essential way for he and I. There is little, if any, sexual tension between us, but there is a lot of other stuff flying around. I have seldom felt so connected to anyone in such a short time. I knew it upon our first meeting a year ago and I still acknowledge it now. His hand is gentlemanly in mine, his arm curved to take mine in. We could be eighty years old from behind.

Nirand thought it interesting that I so thoroughly enjoyed the movie.

Nirand: I was surprised. You seem like a very non-violent woman to me and yet you responded so readily to the music, your feet were tapping, your eyes never left the screen.

Me: Well, when the screen was devoid of James McAvoy, I probably let my attention wander...

N:Why was that? What is the attraction?

Before I could speak, he went on.

N:Ah...I am beginning to understand. What sort of other actors do you favor?

I like his vocal cadence. Only he could say the word favor and make it sound unpretentious.

I told him that I like Johnny Depp, John Cusack, John Malkovich....

N: (laughing kindly)Ah, it is the Scotch/Irish/English thing. You like the boys who look as if they would sunburn easily.

I thought about that. And had to admit that he was on to something.

N:It is the father thing...

Me: Pardon? Are you saying what I think you are saying?

N: (gravely) Yes, I believe I am. I think that it is a common phenomena, is it not, for a woman to seek out her father in a man, especially when he died young, as yours did?

Me: I like bad boys too. And my father was hardly a bad boy, Nirand.

N: I bet you only like the kind of neurotic, but smart bad boys, though...

Well, yeah. I guess he had me there.

Me: And I don't really seek out men much....

N:No...but when you do, you like a bad boy with a heart or a nice pink cheeked highlander man...

Me: Liv's father is hardly a pale skinned man.

N:No, but then he was not really a full on choice for you, was he? Wasn't he sort of a....a...let's see...shall we call it a glitch in the system? An unlikely pair you are, yet you work together like a perfectly in sync machine. He was hardly a sex figure for you, I suspect.

I hate it when someone else gets it right before I do.

But, no. I was never wildly attracted to Tinton. He was not a "full on" choice for me, but in retrospect, he was a good choice for a father, although in all fairness, I could never have known that from the get go.

N:So, what do you feel when you see a man like James McAvoy on the screen?

Me: I sort of would like to fuck him raw....

This made us both crack up.

N: And not Angelina Jolie?

Me: God, no. She looks like she bites and knows how to use a rope. Not my sort of fantasy woman, believe it or not.

N: And Bing is your sort of woman. Why is that?

It is hard for me to put into words. My feelings for her are something that is nearly indefinable.

Me: Bing makes me feel safe and loved and cared for. Yet, there is also an...attraction, a sort of pull, like we are attached by a fine strong string. When I was younger, I never wanted that sort of safety, that sort of glue. Now, I depend on it. She has my back. Always has. She is the only woman that I have ever met who didn't run when the real me came out. Gotta respect that....

N:You aren't so repulsive....

Me: No, but I am not easy. And this life she and I have together, it took a long time to get moving, to grow. Now that it is thriving, I don't want to lose it. Ever. Just the smell of her skin can make my heart either race or relax, depending on what I need.

N:She knows of your attractions to both men and women?

Me: She knows everything. And she's still here.

N: (thoughfully) I have always liked Bing very much, although she doesn't seem to care for me much.

Me: I think she worries about our friendship. It sort of shot out of nowhere and it was pervasive. The truth is that I don't think she gets it. She doesn't understand it.

N: I can tell you this. I simply like the way that you are put together. I know that Tinton believes that I have some sort of secret crush on you. I don't. I don't really find you sexually attractive....

Me: Well, thanks. There go all my delusions of grandeur...

N:You know what I mean..

He pats my arm for emphasis and I do know what he means. We are of the same tribe. It happens rarely, but when it does happen, it is very, very good. And his touch is protective, he even sets his long legged pace to mine, ever mindful of my arthritis, my slowness. He is courtly and kind, but not sickeningly so.

We turned the corner and headed back to the house. I had a brief moment of wondering what the neighbors thought of all of this hand and arm holding and then thought better of it. Who the fuck cares? It is my friendship. My choice and my pleasure. And the truth is that my worries are probably so unfounded. They have seen me on my worst days, hobbling around with my cane. We most likely resemble a nephew with his favorite old auntie.

This weekend will be enjoyable. Nirand has promised palak soup and kanegach pulay. Phini for dessert. And the ever favorites, roomali roti and naan. He has chicken thighs marinating in some lovely sauce in my fridge right now and will grill them into a tandori dish tomorrow night, maybe throw in some crisp fried fish puffs for Tinton, who adores them. We will feast.

And on Monday, Bing will come home and Nirand and Tinton will leave for their spelunking duties in North Dakota.

Life is happy. I am content. Bing has called twice today to wish me a happy 4th and remind me not to see the movie Hancock without her. She will enjoy a San Antonio 4th of July this year in an unusual way. Our friend, Ally, the singer who she is staying with, is playing a private Japanese birthday party tonight. So there will be no big booms, no exploding colors in the sky, just a quiet jazz concert in a private Japanese residence, Bing is subbing on piano for Ally's band member who is ailing from too much partying the night before.

Tonight my daughter and her father will be in Rosenblatt stadium watching fireworks and eating junk.

And Nirand and I will be eating bowls of mulligawtawny and lighting sparklers. Socks will probably be hunching under my bed wondering what the hell is all the racket outside.

Sort of American, really, don't you think? All of us doing our own things, in our own ways and yet it all fits. The mulligatawny, the hot dogs, the jazz concert in San Antonio for the Japanese birthday boy.

It all fits.

And by the way, I meant it when I said that James McAvoy is hot. If you can stand the violence, go see Wanted just so you can see him walk into the textile mill and start an old fashioned Amurican shoot-um-up.

It all fits and that is what makes the puzzle so damn interesting.

Overwhelmed, but it's all good, um...isn't it?

Liv is styling her own hair now. For some reason, instead of pleasing me, this is making me feel as if I want to weep. Yesterday, Tinton (her father) took her to swim practice, stayed to watch and then took her out for breakfast. They came home and spent the rest of the morning in our back yard with our neighbor, cutting up the branches from his old oak tree that landed in our back yard with last week's storm. (And we are supposed to get another storm this afternoon...good hell! Enough!)

By the time Liv came in for her bath, she was a mess of tree sawdust mixed with her chlorine smell from the pool. I soaped up her hair and then used lots of conditioner (anyone have any ideas for dealing with pool hair?) Afterwards, we do what we always do, she lays on her bed in her towel letting the ceiling fan air dry her while I read a chapter or two of her book. We are currently reading Ramona's World, a book that I love and she merely tolerates. As I was reading, she got up and began to get dressed. When I looked up again, she was brushing her own hair and carefully pulling it back into a ponytail. I stopped.

"Hey, sweetie, I can do that.." I told her.

"No. I think I can handle it. I don't feel like braids today and a pony is easy," she replied.

For some reason, I wanted to bawl. I have been (badly) doing her hair for almost nine years now. I was never much good at it, never was able to do french braids or anything fancy, but I could do a plait down her back, a ponytail, and plain braids. A head band was always my first choice because it was easiest. I cannot fathom how much no tears spray conditioner we used on her hair over the years and hair brushing was never my favorite thing to do.

And now, well....she can do it herself.

Boo hoo.

Why in the world is this bothering me so much?

The day went on, she and Tinton are spending lots of time together, so I don't see her much. After he put her to bed and read to her from this, a book that they had picked up from Borders together since she had told him that the Ramona books were driving her insane with their boredom factor, Tinton and I sat out on the balcony together.

We have been doing this every night and I admit that we are talking more than we ever have. Sharing more about our lives. It is really sort of shocking that here we are parents together and we knew so little about each other. But, we are getting there. I have always liked Tinton a great deal, now I am feeling even closer to him. He has always been a part of my family, but only through Liv. Now, he is part of my family because well, he just is.

Plus, he gives insanely wonderful foot rubs. And never seems to want anything in return except for maybe another glass of scotch.

He asked me last night if I would mind if his business partner and friend, Nirand could come to Omaha and stay with us from July 4 until they leave on the 7th for their spelunking gig in North Dakota. I said sure. He can sleep on the sofa. You may remember Nirand from my older posts. He is a dead ringer for Mohinder Suresh from the television show Heroes. And he and I became very good friends last summer when he visited.

"Tell him he has to cook, to just send me all the ingredients he needs and I will go out and buy the Indian grocery store bare," I told Tinton.

He laughed and said he would.

I asked him what he wanted to do for the 4th. We usually just sit in the back yard and watch the fireworks from the neighbor down the street, who buys a ton of them.

He paused. "Well," he said, "Liv and I were thinking that maybe you, Nirand, and she and I could all go to the Royal's baseball game and then stay and watch the fireworks afterwards. What do you think of that?"

My first thought was that I had NO idea that Liv even wanted to go to a Royal's baseball game. She had never even mentioned it to me...

I told him that I thought it sounded fun, but that I would have to opt out of it. Those firework shows always reek of sulfur smell afterwards, which gives me a terrible headache. I felt like a party pooper, but there you go.

He quickly backtracked. "Oh, well...we can skip it, then. I just thought..."

I interrupted him. "No," I told him. "I think it would be fun for all of you and since she really would like to go, then...yes, let's plan on that. I don't really care much for the 4th of July anyway and it will be kind of a relief not to even have to sit outside in the backyard and watch the neighbor's shit."

So, it is decided. They will go to the Royal's game and I will stay home.

I felt like pouting and then chastised myself. Good hell, was I a woman or a mouse? And didn't my daughter come first, for fuck sakes? Where was this pouty ass shit coming from?

It got worse.

Tinton took a deep breath. "I have a big question to ask you. And just so you know, I haven't breathed a word of this to Liv..."

Okay....

I sat very still, my foot still resting in his lap while he rubbed it gently. I took a gulp of my very good scotch.

Tinton began.

"Is Bing still planning on spending the last week of July in San Francisco at that Apple Convention?"

I said yes.

"Wellll, I was thinking that Nirand and I will be at the Mojave National Preserve from July 27 until August 2nd. We're checking on some tectonic plate activity and need to check out some data from the cima volcanic field. Anyway...what I was thinking was this: I have a friend who does small plane data research for the Mojave and maybe...well...Liv could fly down to San Francisco with Bing and I could arrange to pick her up. Her swim team will be done by then, right?"

I nodded. I could see where this was going and in my head I was screaming NO, NO, NO...but I kept my visage calm...

"We're staying at these great cabins. She could have her own room and well, wouldn't it be a blast for her to see some volcanic rock close up? And then...well.."

He stopped.

JUST GET IT OUT, DAMN IT! I thought....

"I thought that since we are so close to Anaheim, maybe I could take her to Disneyland for her birthday. We could arrange to drive there on the 30th and I'd bring her back to the Mojave on August 1st and then arrange to have my friend fly her back to San Francisco to meet Bing when she flies home on the 2nd...What do you think? Is this something you can wrap your head around?" he finished up, looking at me closely.

NO, this is NOT okay with me. No, I cannot "wrap my head" around this. She will be nine on July 31st (along with Socks and Harry Potter) and I have not missed ONE of her frackin' birthdays! NO. NO. NO!

"Um...yeah," I said. "I think maybe we could do that. She has been begging to go to either Disneyland or Disneyworld since she was four and we just finished reading Nim's Island about a little girl who lives by a volcano...I think she would love it, Tinton. It's just...It's just...I'm a selfish bitch, okay? This is hard for me. I don't want to be without her on her ninth birthday, although I know this is a great opportunity...."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know. Well, you can sleep on it, okay? And hey, it is totally up to you, Tulip." He held his hands up, letting me know that he was fine with whatever I said.

And that made me decide. Because he has never been around for any of her birthdays and I know that he must have missed that. Because he never pushes, always runs every little thing by me before he acts with her. And because he loves her so much and this will be good for them both. I needed to step outside of myself and just....allow this to happen.

I finished my drink. "I say let's put this fucker in motion..." I said. "I think she will love this. I will plan a birthday party for her when she and Bing get home on the 2nd of August..."

I looked down at Socks, who was snoozing by my feet.

"So, what do you say, Socks? You get me all to yourself for your birthday. What shall we do, buddy?"

I was trying so hard not to start crying.

Socks looked up and me, smiled, wagging his tail. "Just give me one good hot dog on my birthday, Alpha woman and we are good..."

Tinton didn't answer at first, just sat waiting for me to meet his eyes.

He finally spoke.

"Thank you, Maria," he said simply. "I love you. She will love this. I will not take my eyes off of her. I will keep her safe and she will have so much fun. And hey, I know how hard this is for you. I think you are one kick ass mom, you know that don't you?"

I told him thank you. And that I thought he was one kick ass dad too.

He smiled ruefully.

"Who'da figured, huh?" he said.

Right. It has been a long journey for this man to come from the man who wanted nothing to do with fatherhood to the man who now looks at his daughter with such adoring pleasure and pride that I have to look away sometimes.

I have a photo of them that I took with my camera phone. They are sitting together on one side of the booth at a diner that we ate dinner at a couple of nights ago. His arm is around her and she is leaning into him, their heads touching. They are both beaming. I think of how Liv introduced him to her swim team friends a few days ago.

This is my dad," she had said, her tone careful and light, but so proud too.

To have him in her life is a blessing. A good thing. Children need all the love that you can provide for them.

But, it is hard not to be envious. At least for me. I'm the one who sat up with her for four months straight when she had colic. I am the one who has kissed every single owwie, usually singlehandedly. I am the one who taught her to read, to tie her shoes, to make a pie, to work a garden.

And yet, Tinton comes to town and notices things that I miss. He notices that she needs to get an adventurous book of fairy tales because the Ramona books are not stimulating enough for her.

He knows that she has always wanted to see a Royal's baseball game. I had no idea.

Maybe I just didn't ask the right questions.

And now he is trying to help me raise this little girl and he is doing a great job. She loves him. He loves her. And he works with me, never against me.

How lucky can we all be?

So, I will be alone on the 4th and alone the last week of July. Oh well. I have been hugely cutting back on work this summer. I will schedule lots of work during that week. I will keep busy. And I will buy Socks his fucking hot dog.

It will be fine.

Tinton and I told Liv this morning and she was so excited that she literally turned three cartwheels in a row in our living room.

"DISNEY LAND? VOLCANIC ROCK? A CABIN?"

She was beside herself with joy. And when I told her that she would get a second birthday bash when she and Bing came home from California, she flew into my arms.

"TWO BIRTHDAYS? I am the luckiest girl on the planet!" she exclaimed.

No, we are. Tinton and I said as much as we gazed at our child, our little Liv dancing all over the room, causing Socks to bark and jump up on all of us.

Liv ran to call her friends.

Tinton and I smiled at each other.

"Well, I dunno," he said. "She didn't seem all that excited...."

I laughed.

"So when is Nirand coming in again?" I asked.

He smirked. "He has a crush on you; you must know that.." he said.

I told him that I need someone to have a crush on me right now.

"Well, rest assured, he won't act on it," he told me. "He knows that you and Bing are like on the love planet..."

Yes, I told him. We are. But, still. It is nice to be gazed at like that.

"And don't forget," he murmured. "Bing would kick his ass all over the place if he so much as winked at you..."

She would, I agreed.

And right now, I just wish she was home so that she could hold me and tell me that this is all good, you know? That this is a happy situation, a good idea, it will be a good birthday for Liv.

Because, after all those years when it was just Liv and me against the world, it is nice to have my village around me, helping me raise her up.

So, why do I feel like crying?