While the cat's away....

.....this mouse does all kinds of things.

Not THOSE things. Get your mind out of the gutter right this second, dudes. I have not, nor will I ever, cheat on my partner.

But, truthfully? I do things differently when she is gone. Co-habitation is all about compromise. For both of us. I get it. I participate in that. But...when Bing is away, I do sort of play.

Both Bing and Liv were gone all week. Liv is spending the week in South Dakota, attending her Aunt's funeral with her Father. They will return on Monday and as a happy end to a sad time, he will stay with us until Thursday and celebrate her 13th birthday with us. Bing is attending an Apple Seminar in California and comes home this afternoon.

So, I was alone all last week and I feel terrible admitting this, but...I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I pick Bing up at the airport at 3 today and that will be the end to my privacy.

It was fun, though.

Even though it was so damn hot.

I have not enjoyed summertime this year, it feels more like something that must be endured rather than enjoyed. Temps in the 100s for days on end. High humidity, but not a drop of rain in more than a month.  Last year, I only had to manually water my garden THREE times since we had abundant rainfall. This year, I have been out every other day, usually at twilight to beat the heat, watering and weeding. The weeds LOVE the heat and need practically no water to survive.

Weeds are kind of like unsavory people. They thrive in conditions that the rest of us would find appalling and they procreate at an alarming rate.

But with Bing gone, I admit to doing some things that she would not like one bit.

1) I not only watered my garden, but I also walked around the house and watered the house. Bing thinks this is wasteful, but I swear...the house loves it. And I think it cools it off a little bit. Silly? Maybe? But, who cares? I do it.

2) I ordered out pizza for dinner and went out for hamburgers once. And um...okay...KFC once. And I had one of those TV dinners called Hungry Man. Bing refers to TV dinners as rat poison. I adore them. Especially the turkey ones with stuffin and mashers. The other two nights, I had Cocoa Puffs for dinner. And peanut butter toast.

I admit that Bing has probably given me a few extra years to live by changing my eating habits. When I was in college, it was not unusual for me to down a Mountain Dew and a Snickers for breakfast. Even back then, she faithfully went to the school cafeteria and ate a bowl of oatmeal or granola and an apple and/or a banana for breakfast. She was (and is) dismayed by my eating habits and has made it her mission to put me on the straight and narrow regarding eating healthily.

When she's gone, I cheat. A lot. If Liv is with me, it is only a little but when I am alone...I cheat almost continually. And yes, I never feel all that great. I feel so much better when I eat well, but the body wants what it wants and without Bing there to smash those hungers, I lack the willpower to just say no. I ate a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast this morning.

3) I washed all the bedding in our house. In our washer. Bing would hit the ceiling if she found out. She refuses to do even large loads of laundry, believes that it causes wear and tear on the washing machine. I think that this is poppycock and have told her so, but then she comes back with, "If the machine starts to die, it will be because of your overloading and doing too heavy loads."

No, it will be because you bought the thing on Craig's list instead of letting me buy that new one that I saw at Nebraska Furniture Mart, you know that Swedish one that cost almost 3,000$ but was worth every penny?

But, one thing you learn in co-habitation is to pick your battles carefully and I employ that rule. This is not worth fighting about and since she does most of the laundry, I keep my mouth shut.

So, this week I stripped off our heating mattress pads and our lightweight summer spreads and along with some of the smaller rag rugs in our house, I washed them in the washing machine. And it was fine. I knew it would be.

She'll never know. Unless she reads this blog and she rarely does.

4) I cleaned out the fridge and cabinets. Bing cannot throw things away. She believes that when eggs say that they expire on June 26th, that means that they are edible until July 26th or even later. The same with milk, cheese, yogurt, you name it. If it has an expiration date, she believes that this is just a suggestion, not a real warning.

I am terrified of salmonella or food poisoning of any kind. I have had it twice and that was two times too many. I refuse to eat anything if it is even one day past it's expiration date. This has caused me to throw out eggs that were two weeks past their date which infuriated Bing because she came home and wanted to make scrambled eggs for dinner.

So, when she was gone, I went through our fridge and methodically checked the labels on EVERYTHING from mayo to salad dressing to milk to orange juice to pickle relish to catsup to mustard to eggs. And I tossed everything that was expired. Then when I went grocery shopping, I replaced everything with the farthest expiration dates that I could find. Bing might notice, but I doubt it. And if she does, I can just say, "Oh, those pickles? They tasted sour and the expiration was almost 5 months over, so I replaced them." Or.."Oh, sorry. I ate the last of the cottage cheese and so bought some more." This will please her since she considers cottage cheese to be a healthy food.

Yes, I am a rampant liar in my own marriage. And do me a favor. Go ask all your female and male relatives if they ever lie to their spouses. If they are honest, they will admit that they lie their freakin' heads off. It is called going along and getting along." Show me a couple that says that they never lie to each other and I will show you a couple who are either lying to you or so upright and righteous that you don't want to invite them to your parties. Just sayin'.

I don't lie about the big things. But, I lie like a rug about the small things. It is called a white lie and does not count against you when you die. If you believe in an afterlife, which I am not sure that I do.

5) I walked around naked in my own house within ten minutes of getting home from work. It was so hot outside and even though the a/c was on, it just felt very freeing. I had a sundress on hand that I could quickly slip over my head if the door bell rang, etc. But, for the most part, I was nekkid as a jaybird all night. I loved it. I ate my dinner naked. I laid on the sofa naked and read my book. I watched the opening ceremonies of the Olympics stark naked.

Now, Bing has no qualms about seeing me naked. But...with Liv around, it is just not a good idea, so I don't walk around nude at home. Plus, Bing is highly susceptible to sexual thoughts when she sees me naked. Sometimes, all I have to do is take off one sock and she's right there, ready and willing.

And I am not comfortable being naked unless I am alone. I am 54 years old. I am um...sagging. I also have a flabby rear end. (Or as my mother used to call it: hindquarters.) I have cellulite and cottage cheese upper thighs. I do not possess the come hither body of my youth. I possess the body of a woman who has lived a long life in this container.

But, I did enjoy being naked.

6) I didn't recycle everything. Bing recycles EVERYTHING. Even those little papers in Hershey kisses? She saves them and puts them in the paper recycling. When she eats them, which is rarely. When she deigns to eat chocolate, it is usually only very dark, very bitter chocolate and that is because it is high in anti oxidants. I did not recycle a diet soda can. I did not recycle some of the plastic jars that I threw away when I cleaned out the fridge and cupboards.

This was not really like me, but I was feeling like I needed to be an outlaw of some sort and I came up with this. So, really...it is not so bad. I didn't smoke cigarettes or weed and I could have easily attained both. I didn't buy that bottle of Grey Goose that I contemplated when I was grocery shopping.

Sometimes I just need to be a little rebellious and this was my way of being bad. Pretty pathetic, yes? The much younger Maria could have thought of something much more naughty.

7) I took long hot showers and baths and then did not clean the tub or shower when I was done.

If Bing was dead, she'd be rolling in her grave. Nothing irritates her more than when Liv or I take a shower that lasts more than 5 minutes or is hot enough to steam up the bathroom. She sees this as wasting water and energy. She's right. It is.

But, fuck it. I did it anyway. And it felt heavenly.

And this morning, after my last hot shower, I did clean the shower. She will never know that it was not cleaned for an entire week.

Heh heh heh.

8) Last but not least, I did not turn the television on once except to watch the evening news and the Olympic opening ceremonies. (I am a total bawl baby when the announcer says, "And here come the Americans!") I also did not listen to music. At all.

It was silent most of the time in house, except for my occasional conversations with the dog, who is an excellent listener and thinks that everything I do is wonderful....except when I leave him. He thinks that sucks the big one.

I also let Socks sleep on our bed. He was lonely, missed Liv.

Bing would be throwing up if she knew that. She HATES pets on the beds, thinks it is unsanitary.

So, he licks himself occasionally. Think about some of the things we do in bed, Bing. We aren't exactly hygienic. Having Socks in bed with me was fun for both of us. When I patted the bed and told him to jump on in, he looked astounded and then very, very pleased.

So...time to head for the airport now.

Shhh. Keep all of this on the down low, huh?

And do YOU have anything you do when YOUR spouse is gone?

Sometimes...all it takes

....is the sound of her voice.

I was drying off from my bath last night when I heard the phone ring. Checked the caller id.

Liv.

"Hello, love bug!" I said.

"Hi, Mama."

"What's up,  how's stuff going?" I asked, already feeling cautious. She sounded quiet, reflective.

"I just...I just...needed to hear your voice," she finally said.

We talked then, about the funeral, the lay of the land, how she was feeling, how we would see each other on Monday. She sounded sleepier and sleepier, finally there was no more talking and I heard her slow, steady breaths.

I stayed with her, laying back on my bed, listening to my child breathe.

Finally, when I was almost in a stupor, leaning towards sleep, I heard Tinton's voice.

"Maria?"

I sat up slowly. "Yes, I'm here."

He chuckled into the phone.

"She fell asleep holding the phone," he said.

We talked quietly. He said that she was holding up well, being such a help to her grandmother, her aunts, and especially him.

"But, I think she's ready to come home," he said. "She misses you so much."

I nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see me. But, my voice was stuck in the muck of my throat. Finally, I managed to croak out that I missed her too, would see them both on Monday.

I told him to tell her to call me anytime, day or night for any reason. He agreed.

As I hung up the phone, I looked over at Socks, the dog.

"Sometimes just the sound of her voice is all it takes to make everything in me just stop and stare," I said.

He nodded in his Ernest Borgnine way and placed on paw on my bare leg. I stroked his head.

He knows. He loves her too.

Crazy, madly in love.....

.......with a book.

It's called "Wild" by Cheryl Strayed.

I was leery of it when my co-worker, Julie, told me that I had to read it.

"You'll love it, I can feel it," she told me. "It's a Maria book. A Maria character."

I was doubtful. It's a memoir written by a woman who hiked the Pacific Crest trail.

Right. Hiking. Because I'm such an avid hiker.

Uh huh.

But, I ordered it from the library and when it finally came in (I was on a waiting list for months but didn't have enough interest to buy it), I cracked open the spine to take a look at the photo and blurb about the author. Hmmm.

Well, I'd give it a go, I decided.

By page four, I was madly in love with this book. Felt like I knew the author.

I bonded so deeply with this book that I would stare at it across a crowded room like a lovesick teenager. When I was paying bills, talking to my family, whatever, what I really wanted to be doing was reading this book.

I took it to work with me and closed my door during lunch time, eating a sandwich from home and diving into the book. When I would look up and see that a half hour had gone by, I was morose, knowing that I had to wait until that evening to continue.

I read voraciously, hungry as a wolf. I took it to bed and became furious when my sleepy eyes started to close in fatigue and prevented me from going on in the book.

I was in deep with Cheryl Strayed and Wild.

Finally, as I neared the end, I forced myself to take smaller sips of the book, like an alcoholic trying not to gulp down that whole bottle of wine. Instead, I rationed it out carefully.

But, all good things must end.

Today, I went up to the cafeteria with book in hand and sat down with a cheeseburger to read the last few pages. I willed everyone who knew me to stay away. Mercifully, they did.

I finished the book and then sat quietly with tears in my eyes.

Done. Finished.

I stroked the cover, hugged the book close to me as I walked back down to my office. If I had been certain that no one would have seen, I would have kissed it.

On the drive home, I told myself to stop at the library and put it in the return box. I couldn't do it. It wasn't due for five days, I told myself, it was perfectly fine to walk around holding this book.

So, that's what I've decided to do. And on Saturday, when it is due back, I will go to the book store and buy a few copies of this book. Keep one for myself and give one to people that are special to me who I know will like it.

Some books are just holy that way.

Read it. Please.

A death in the family

It's quiet in the house. Bing left for California on Saturday and Liv and her father left for South Dakota too. 

Thursday morning, my cell phone rang as I drove to work. I fumbled in my purse for it, annoyed, checked the number and saw that it was Tinton.

Tinton was in Turkey, so I knew it was important.

His voice was sad when I picked up.

"I've had some bad news......"

I waited.

"One of my sisters died last night."

Her name is was Winona. She was the eldest in his family. Two more sisters followed and then Tinton, the youngest. She was 54, my age. A brain aneurysm, so very sudden. Tinton was already on his way back to the states. He said that he'd call Liv but wanted to call me first. His plan was to arrive in our city on Friday. He would rent a car and he and Liv would make the seven hour drive to the Pine Ridge reservation in South Dakota on Saturday. Would it be okay if they stayed a week? The wake would begin on Friday and end on Sunday at midnight. He wanted to stay with his family for the week. His sister had been his mother's caregiver. Now, he and his sisters would have to convince his mother to move into a retirement home off the reservation. He'd been trying to do this for years, but she'd argued that she was fine with Winona caring for her. And she was. The arrangement worked out well.

But life is full of change.

I said of course and we quickly made arrangements for us to pick him up at the airport the next day. We decided that instead of having him call Liv when I wasn't home, that I would tell her that night. He was a little worried. Winona had been Liv's mentor for her Isnati Ca Lowan, a Lakota ritual where a girl becomes a woman. She had been 12 when it had taken place and Winona had sewn her a special dress. Over the past year, Winona had sent Liv special beads to sew on to it and had sent her a pair of beautiful howling coyote earrings that she made herself. Liv had painted small swirls of green and gold on to the gray and oak colored fabric and a small blue bird, and little by little, it was becoming a truly lovely dress.

I'd never met Winona, but sent her e-mails from time to time when Liv was sick or had an ailment. She never failed to write back to suggest an all natural remedy or send some tea. Once when Liv was experiencing leg cramps, she sent her a white willow bark tea and it seemed to help.

I'd seen photos of Winona and she was almost always smiling, but holding her hand carefully over her mouth. Liv explained that her teeth were bad and she disliked showing them. She was also a large woman with thick ankles and legs and very wide shoulders for a woman of such small height. Her hair was going gray and she kept it pulled back in a bun.

From what  Tinton had told me of Winona, it seemed that her life was a little sad. As the oldest girl, she was expected to take care of her parent. Their father had deserted them right after Tinton was born and his mother had cared for them all in a worn down trailer. Tinton had dreamed nightly of escaping the poverty that he grew up in and vowed to move his family into a house when he could. He did. He somehow went on to college and graduate school and then got his doctorate in geology and while he rarely came home to visit (two of his sisters moved off the reservation and married, were housewives), he was able to buy a small home for Winona and their mother to live. Winona, he told me, had never really had a boyfriend, had always been their mother's helper. She dated a few times in her teens, but nothing came of any of her dates. She seemed content to live quietly with her mother.

I think that the word seemed  may be the operative word here. I seriously doubt that she could have been that content. Or....perhaps she was. As I said, I didn't really know her.

But Liv did. When she went to visit Pine Ridge with her father, she stayed in the small white house that he had built for them. She said that she was happy there, that Winona, or T'anke as she called her, was a great cook, made little cakes for her to celebrate her visit. That she took Liv for walks and showed her different herbs to be used for healing. She called Liv T'oja. Liv was close to Winona in a way that she never was to Tinton's mother, her Kunsi.

Kunsi, Liv said, was difficult to know. She was quiet, but would suddenly inflate with temper over seemingly small things (once as Liv and Winona were baking, she flew out of her chair and slapped at Winona's hands harshly to indicate that she was being too heavy handed with butter) and she wasn't easy to be around.

But, Winona. Liv loved her. They sent e-mails back and forth, texted and sometimes skyped. She was a presence in my daughter's life, someone that she loved.

Liv has not had to see death up close and personal yet. Not really. And I worried over telling her about Winona.

I called Bing and told her what had happened, asked that she make sure that Liv was home when I got home from work that night. She agreed.

As I walked in the door, Liv was waiting in the kitchen, holding Socks in her arms, his nose resting against her shoulder. She looked worried.

"Something's wrong," she said, before I even got fully inside the door. "Bing said that I couldn't go swimming this afternoon, that I needed to wait to see you. What is wrong?"

I led her out to the sun porch and sat next to her on the wicker loveseat. Told her that Winona had died. She didn't say anything for a long time, just sat looking down at her sneakers, one of them rubbing carefully into the wooden floor. When she looked up at me finally, her eyes were full of tears. I reached to hug her and she let me hold her in my arms for a while before she finally took a breath and stood up.

"I need to do something and I need to do it by myself, okay?" she asked.

I nodded.

She went into her room and closed the door. Was in there a long time. Bing and I ate dinner, she declined to eat with us.

Later, just as it was dusk, I heard her bedroom door open and her feet coming down the stairs from her bedroom. I glanced up as she reached the bottom of the steps and then stared.

She was wearing the dress that Winona had made for her and the earrings that she had made as well.

She had tied up her buckskin leggings but pulled her hair back into a braid. She looked beautiful. She carried her ipad with her. She smiled at me but didn't speak, just walked across the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door.

I got up and cautiously walked to the kitchen window, looking out.

She stood under our oak tree, leaning the ipad against the trunk. She keyed in something and then stood up straight as an arrow, her back to me. I heard music begin and I silently opened the door, gently holding Socks back as he tried to get past me to go to Liv. I stood on the back steps watching her.

The music was sad and mournful. Liv moved to it, but didn't really dance, just took steps back, forward and sideways, mindful of the fact that in Lakota culture, only men danced. It is believed that woman's ankles are shackled to the earth. But, she swayed with the music, head down.

I was torn. Should I go out to stand with her? She had asked me to leave her alone, I suspected that I needed to honor that.

So, in the end, that is what I did.

But, as the song went on, in the still shimmering heat of the most god awful hot summer that I ever remember, the yard took on an ethereal quality.

I thought about how this place, this house would claim this memory of my daughter's grief, as it claimed all of our moments of extraordinary happiness and sorrow as well as those that lived here before us. Somewhere in the air, especially on a hot summer night, there would be a small shiver of pain undulating, an echo of Liv's pain absorbed by the universe.

This used to be Native American ground. I don't imagine that she is the first to have cried in pain on this spot or near it. But, it would now be a permanent part of the ionic density.

I swear I could feel our home, this old Victorian beauty, reaching out arms to enfold her. This house that saw her take her first running steps, play in her sandbox, work in the garden, dance with fireflies. And the tree that she rested her hand upon seemed to swirl it's essence around her, holding her up, bearing her spirit on.

I looked at my daughter's small firm back. I thought of her ancestry. My Da's smiling, dimpled face with his Irish brogue that snuck out whenever he was very mad or very sad. All that Irish blood pumping through her veins, giving her a love of the earth and a faery spirit. All those sparkles from our homeland, dipping and swerving around in her veins, joining up with her father's Lakota blood too. A people who carried just as much tradition as my own Irish one. Also, one with the land and bound by it. I thought of her father, my Tinton, standing in our living room, watching her peek out at him from behind my skirt, curious but not particularly friendly, caution on her face.

I thought of the look on his face as he fell in love with her almost immediately, because how could he not? The way her nearly three year old self stood next to him as he haltingly read her favorite book to her (Curious George) while she finally allowed herself to lean against him and then slowly, slowly, crawled up into his lap. I watched as he barely breathed as she made that final decision to let him into her heart and his slow smile of relief and joy.

There was no looking back after that. I thought of how he told me that he didn't need much, didn't expect much, just please, please, could he be in her life? And how I told him that I wasn't Liv's jailer, for god sake, that half of his blood was in her. That he and I both had equal claim to her, but that her spirit was all her own. That she could only benefit from the good love of a father and that I wanted her to experience it, but ONLY if he was willing to jump in with both feet.

He happily agreed.

They've been close ever since.

She is half Irish faery and half proud Lakota woman. And it was that strong part of her that was standing by the old oak tree now, trying not to keen with her grief.

The song ended and she stood for a moment longer, bowed over at the waist, hands on her knees, bracing herself up.

Then, she turned to the house and slowly, as if she were so very tired, she came up the steps to the house. I held my arms out to her and she fell into them.

"I wanted to honor my T'anke," she said. That was all. I walked behind her as she went up to her bedroom and leaned down as she sat on the bed to unwrap her leggings and help her off with her dress. She leaned into me, exhausted. When she was down to her underclothes, she lay back on her bed and I laid with her. Socks jumped up on the bed and immediately found his place under her arm.

"Tell me something beautiful that you know about Winona," I said.

Liv thought for a moment.

"She always took me seriously, always," she finally said. "She told me that I made her house smile."

I smiled. "I think you make this house smile, too," I told her. "You are such a fine person, have a beautiful mind, a strong spirit."

Liv curled into my arms and slept then. I lay with her and just held for as long as I could, until my left arm went numb from her head resting on it. And then, I got up and slid her under the sheet, kissed her forehead and left her with Socks to comfort her throughout the night.

Today, she is in Pine Ridge with her Lakota family, mourning with them.

According to Lakota tradition, she will bring back some of Winona's hair to scatter in our garden. It pleases me to think of her spirit visiting us this way.

I'm alone in the house now, Bing in California, Liv in South Dakota. It will be another long, hot week. But, I am in the house I love and my family will return soon.

Who knows? Maybe in a hundred years when we are gone, another woman, maybe someone similar to me will stand out in the back yard some hot summer night and comment to her partner, her friend, her son or daughter, "I don't know...there is something sad in the air tonight."

And it will be the memory of Liv shuffling her feet in a mourning dance for her beloved aunt.

we're all here

All of us. Just trying to get along, go along and get past.

I've been depressed lately.  My two best buds at work, my co-workers, Julie and Piper will be gone as of August 1st. Julie off to Mexico to marry her soul mate and Piper staying put, but gun shy after a cancer scare. Now all she wants to do is share time and space with her husband and travel a lot to California to visit her grandkids.

So...there will be two more sharing this office: Fawn and Jin. We will be fine, good times will erupt. But, right now...all I can seem to see is boxes being loaded up by Julie and Piper as they slowly erase themselves from our workplace. Like most people, I am leery of change. It scares me.

The weather of the last three seasons has been baffling. Our last Winter was confusing. Extremely mild. No snow storms. Not even much snow or below freezing temps. Spring sort of came in unnoticed and left without telling anyone. Summer arrived in April and has been here with a vengeance. Extreme heat, humidity and drought. All of us prairie people are walking around totally bewildered. Where is our regular weather? Will Autumn ever come? We are unsettled, wary.

On the home front, Bing is preparing for a trip to California. A seminar. She leaves Saturday and will be gone for a week. She is worried about her back as this seminar is very walking intensive. But, she wants to try it and it will give her an idea about whether she can go to India in late December for her Fulbright scholarship. I feel pouty about this and embarrass myself by acting all clingy, bottom lip thrust out. We have a family vacation planned for the first two weeks of December this year, to go to Louisiana, so we don't want to spend the money for Liv and me to accompany her to California. Also, I need to be at the office to help train our new counselors. So, we'll stay here. In the heat. And humidity. Yeah, I am one good sport.

I see discourse all around me. Something in the air. Plus, I seem to be a magnet for odd people and events, lately. The other day at work, I was on the 5th floor picking up some paperwork and needed to use the bathroom so I stepped in for a quick pee.

There was someone in the first stall, so I quickly went into the fourth one and drizzled down my nylons (god...they are AWFUL when it is so muggy out). Sat down and commenced to relieve my bladder. Suddenly, my ears began to pick up something. What was it? Singing? YES! The woman in the first stall was singing softly. I listened.

Three little kittens have lost their mittens and they began to cry!
"Oh, mother dear, see here, see here, our mittens we have lost!"
"What? Lost your mittens? You naughty kittens!......"

She was um....acting out the parts.

The voices of the kittens were cloyingly babyish, while their mother had sort of a gruffish sound.

I was totally grossed out. And strangely embarrassed. And a little concerned.

I finished up my business and walked out of the stall. The singing did not stop or slow down. She just went on singing the verses. I remembered this rhyme from Liv's toddlerhood, but to hear it sung in a women's restroom was downright CREEPY.

I wondered if I should inquire if the woman needed help, but decided to fuck it. Especially because the singing sounds were accompanied by the sounds of a rather juicy bowel movement. Perhaps she had been trying to drown out the sounds of her wet farting and loud ploppings of feces?

I opened the door to walk out just as another woman was going in. I gave her a look of warning and went back to my office.

Strange, yes?

And then today, I left work early because I had to have some bloodwork done. Since I've been in remission, all of my bloodwork in the last two years has been clean, but I still hate getting it drawn every three months. I went in to the lab and held out my arm, ready to be a pin cushion. The phlebotomist was one of my favorites, a small Korean man who never tries to engage me in conversation and always gets my tiny rolling veins on the first try. I was third in line, so sat on a chair and thumbed through a People magazine while I waited. Next to me was a shockingly pale, but nice looking 30 something man with a surfer's blonde hair. He smiled at me and held out his hand to shake even though I had only nodded at him, didn't introduce myself.

Shit, I thought...I hope he's not a talker...

He wasn't. But his hand was icy cold. I glanced at him under my lashes and noted that while he was very, very pale...he had the blood red lips of a vampire. I wondered if it was lipstick?

Soon, he was called and then I was, so I didn't think much about it.

Until I was walking out to my car and felt a hand on my elbow. Instinctively, I put my car key in between my first and second fingers, ready to scratch if necessary and turned sharply.

It was the pale man. He said very quietly, "I just wanted to see if you needed me to walk you to your car. You are so lovely and all alone. And...you smell like lilies of the valley and soft marshmallows."

Um...Ick.

I gave him my best glower and looked silently at his hand on my elbow and then up at him. He removed his hand. I told him that no, I did not need assistance and started to turn away. But not before I noticed his sharp incisors when he smiled.

God, he really did look vampirish. I was relieved when two burly looking men in scrubs turned the corner and walked towards us. I glanced back at the vampire.

He was gone. Just like a vampire.

Okay. Freaky.

I stopped at Whole Paycheck on my way home to pick up some goat's milk for work (I'm the only one who drinks it in my coffee, everyone else acts as if I am drinking squirrel milk or something...) and some ALA for our vitamin cabinet. As I walked down the aisle, I paused in front of the ALA section, noting with a sigh that there must be about ten different brands. I began perusing them, trying to find the best buy. My back and shoulder were aching. My rheumatoid arthritis has been acting up lately and afternoons have been hard on me. I shifted my purse to the other side and resumed looking.

I felt a small hand rubbing my back and started, looking down into the eyes of a child of about 7 or 8 years.

I heard the click clack of high heels as her mother came striding up.

"Now, Annabelle, please stop!" she said. "Remember we talked about how it is unacceptable to go around touching people. They don't like it."

The child removed her hand, but smiled at me gently.

"I could tell that her back was hurting her and I wanted to help," she said in a quiet voice.

"No, no. She can take care of her own back, honey," the mother said. She smiled apologetically at me. "I'm sorry. Annabelle is um...sort of intuitive. She means no harm," she said as she gently pulled her away.

I didn't answer, but looked after Annabelle and her mother. Annabelle looked back at me and waved shyly. I waved back.

How did she know that my back hurt? I didn't think I had winced or anything? Wow. And the mother had acted as if this was a regular occurrence.

How odd.

As I drove home, I had to laugh a little. A crazy woman, a vampire and an intuitive all in the same week. I turned into my driveway and stopped at the end of it to get out and check the mail. As I walked across the side walk, I noticed a penny on the ground.

Find a penny, pick it up. All day long, you'll have good luck.

I pocketed it.

I walked into the house, feeling my soul sink just a little at the darkness of it, with all of our blinds drawn tightly to keep out the heat. Bing was working at school today, Liv was at a friend's home. I let the dog out to pee (and he did it quickly and then scratched to be let in within a minute...so hot out) and went up to our bedroom to peel off my work clothes.

I lay back on the bed in my slip, blessedly barefoot, the hot sun trying to stick it's steamy long fingers through the plantation blinds. I felt my back relax a little as I stretched out my calves.

All of us are here. Flying around this planet together doing our own little walks of life, trying to get by.

That thought hit me and I came here in my office to write about it.

How is your walk of life going?

slogging days, slogging month

I detest July. Always have. The only good thing about July is that the last day of it is Liv's birthday. But, I am not a fan of heat and July is always piping hot.

But this is getting ridiculous. 100 degree days back to back for weeks on end with no rain in sight? This is dust bowl weather.

I remember a few 100 degrees every summer, but not consistently and not so humid. Liv told me last night that she feels as if she lives in a cave. I agree. But...nothing to do about it. It's so hot that our a/c can't keep up unless we help it, so we keep our plantation blinds tightly closed all day long. The result is that we do sort of live in a dank, albeit cool cave.

I try to remind myself how hard winter is. How in late January and early February, I am so hungry for warmth. It works sometimes.

I miss my garden. Gardening has become a necessary chore instead of a joyous activity. It is so hot that I wait until the sun has gone completely down before I venture out and then I work quickly, my glasses continuously slipping down my nose. My flowers are shell shocked. I water them as much as I dare, but suspect that watering restrictions will soon be upon us. They are usually riotous in July, like gangly legged girls with colorful purses. Now they are faded and droopy, like sad old women.

I tell myself that in one month, it will be nearly time for school for start. And September, generally a cooler month, will be right around the corner. But, that just makes me sadder.

I think about our predecessors, those hardy souls who endured dust bowl heat with no air conditioning and no fans. And no daily showers. How did they do it?

Why aren't we living in San Francisco? I adore that climate. Cool and sunny year round.

Sleep is difficult. Our bedroom is "the last stop" in our air conditioning run, so it cools the least. Plus, it has ceiling to floor windows that face the west, so we get the worst of the afternoon heat. There is always a murky heat in our room until the temp drops to the 80's. And I wonder if it ever will sometimes. Even the nights are sultry and steamy.

The good news: the fireflies are abundant. I read somewhere that they love hot weather.

I hear my Mother's voice in my ear, reminding me to find the good in something, that no one likes a whiner.

Shut the fuck up. I'm crabby. I want a cool breeze and some dark rain clouds and then.....that first smattering of rain drops that quickly flies into a pitter patter, followed by a downpour.

I think I would probably dance in it at this point.

Are you watching this? And if not....WHY NOT???

I am in love with this show, heart and soul.

One problem. It is on at the same time as Bing's favorite show: Breaking Bad. So, one of us gets to compromise, it seems, and watch it later.

It will be me. Because even though I know I come across as the strident, pushy, bitchy one in this twosome? I tend to compromise more than she does. There is always one person in the relationship who does and it's me.

That's Bing you hear laughing.

The truth is that we both compromise on different things.

She compromises on messes. Honest to shit...if she lived alone, she would be eligible to be on the show Hoarders. Yes, she is THAT bad. She saves everything from old mail to her mother's collection of shot glasses that now sit in our basement on a folding table. There are HUNDREDS of them and she won't give them to Goodwill. I really don't know what she plans to do with shot glasses that have names of all fifty states on them and various vacation spots too. And she saves EVERY piece of mail that she receives, even ads for Rogaine. ("Maybe one of the guys at school would like it. It's a totally FREE SAMPLE!) But, when I start making comments about how nice it would be to be able to actually EAT on our dining room table sometime, she takes the hint. Usually.

But, truthfully...I compromise more than she does. And if she is honest, she will admit that.

And...I don't care when I get to see this show...I am just so excited that I get to see it.

It's brilliant. I am a big Aaron Sorkin fan from the first episode of The West Wing and on to The Social Network. And when I heard he was taking on the news room, I was all up in that business.

And it is wonderful, truly great. Jeff Daniels is a perfect anchor. John Gallagher, Jr. and Dev Patel are incredible. I am slowly warming to Emily Mortimer and still not sure about Jane Fonda. But...I am watching and nodding and throwing my fist up in the air and shouting, "YES!" over and over.

It's like I finally have good dialogue to shriek at family dinners when my stoutly Republican family begins talking to me about how The Tea Party is a "grassroots" group when everyone knows that is just plain bullshit. Or when my sister goes on about how much she wishes that Michele Bachmann would have stayed in the presidential race. It's like Aaron Sorkin provides me with the perfect one liner comeback line: "Michele Bachmann is a hairdo." (Instead, I just looked at her, bewildered, and managed to squeak out, "Can you say Joe McCarthy?"....I wish I had rolled my eyes and said, "Michele Bachmann is a hairdo!")

And Liv likes it too, it gives us a lot to talk about politically. Unfortunately,  even though I love Breaking Bad, I can't think of how exactly to talk with Liv about it.  It's hard to admit that I like the meth cooking head character, sort of how I like the serial killer, Dexter.

It's on Sunday nights on HBO. Right after another one of my favorites: True Blood. Watch it and get back to me. I guarantee that you will fall in love with Jim Harper too.

Pretty please? Give it a try. It's already been renewed for a second season but ratings analytics show that it has a very small audience. I'd like to see it be a big hit.



Ok...if you watch this for me, I promise to watch a show that you think I need to watch. Any suggestions?

What would you ask your future self?

I just discovered this, thanks to my daughter (who also pointed me to a truly stupid you-tube piece about a woman who drinks her own urine...so I was skeptical of this one)....

I thought it was clever and hilarious. What do you think?



If my twelve year old self had asked a future me questions, I'm sure she would have wanted to know if I ever got married?

yes and no...it's complicated....

And what I do for a living?

Remember how you always wanted to teach high school English? You won't. And you will regret it. Never go into a career to make money. I like my job but I don't love it.

And if I look okay.

I look okay. Not fat nor thin. Average. Started going grey at 40! Thanks, DA! Also, I know you want me to say that I grew nice juicy big breasts like Patrice and Celia, I didn't. Nope. Not much bigger than I was when I was your age. Still short, too. But...the braces paid off.

You'll wonder if I have children.

One. Liv. Oh, 12 year old self, you are going to love her so much.

I really thought that video was funny, didn't you?

And do you think that your adult self would be interesting to your 12 year old self. Like...would they be happy with how you turned out? The decisions that you made?

What do you think?

Lessons learned and feisty chives

I've taken the rest of the week off. Work has been stressful as my two fellow owners of our clinic are both leaving as of August 1st. Julie and Piper opened this clinic five years ago with the intent to help mainly children at risk with most referrals coming from health and human services and free medical clinics. We have a booming business and all is going well. But, about a year  ago, Piper found out that she had cervical cancer. She took time off and was treated and she is now cancer free. But, during that time off she decided that at nearly 60 years old, she wants to spend all the rest of her time with her husband, children and grandchildren. Julie is a happier story. She fell in love several months ago (for about the millionth time, she does this with regularity) and declares that she has finally found the one. One problem. He is here from Mexico on a professional work visa and does not want to stay when it runs out. He's a doctor and wants to return to his native country. So, it was decided that instead of trying to deal with a long distance romance, that Julie will go with him and marry him there. She is 57. He is 58. It is a first marriage for both of them.

So...we have finally decided on their replacements. And while I have some reservations, I am planning on giving these new co-owners a shot. One is Jin. She is of Korean descent and very, very young. As in just turned 29. This will be her first job out of her residency. She has some money that her grandparents left her and has decided to invest it in co-ownership in our clinic. I like Jin. She is very serious for someone so young. I also sense that she has a deep stubborn streak. This can be very good or very bad. Also, she looks like she is about 14. Seriously. She is even shorter than I am and I am only 5'1. When I first met her, I thought she was interviewing for our Spanish translating job that is open even though I didn't think she looked Hispanic. It never occurred to me that she was actually old enough to invest in our clinic. Jin is newly married. Her husband is a school teacher ( I imagine she and I will have lots to talk about regarding our spouses) and brings a toddler son to the marriage as he was a widower whose wife died in childbirth.

Fawn (god help me that is REALLY her name) is a bit older. She is 34 and has more experience. She comes from a clinic much like ours in Missouri where she was working for the last five years. Her husband works for an insurance firm and was transferred here a few months ago. They decided to make an investment in our clinic and bought out Piper's share. They were high school sweethearts and have been married since they were both 18! They have two children, both under the age of five. I like Fawn too, although she looks like her name. She is very fawnish looking, with feathery blonde hair and wears beautiful, unusually tailored business suits that I covet. She looks like a model but is actually very pragmatic and practical, very business oriented and financially savvy. She told me that even though she and her husband married at 18, they waited until they were in their late twenties to start having children, waited until they were both established in careers. When she opened her briefcase to take out her resume, there was a Wall Street Journal on top of her papers. I instantly liked her just because of that. I liked her even more when we talked about our children and she said that she tried hard to give her children's nanny three day weekends whenever possible, so wanted to work four ten hour days instead of five eight hour ones. Anyone who is good to their nanny will be good to their secretary too, I think.

I am kind of depressed. I used to be the youngin' in the office. Both Julie and Piper were older than me. Now, I am the older, sage one. Not sure I like that! But, Julie, Piper and I all agree that some fresh younger blood might be a good thing for us. So, fingers crossed. But, watching Piper and Julie slowly carrying out boxes from their offices every day has made me feel sad, so when the heat wave finally broke and I knew I could get in my garden again for a while, I took this time off.

And it has been wonderful. I'm working quickly as another heat wave is supposed to arrive this weekend. I spent the morning pruning roses and snipping off sucker vines on my tomatoes and peppers. Most of my vegetables are very, very close to ready to pick. This is quite unusual. I usually harvest in late August, early September. This year, I will be harvesting in early August, I think. Our early Spring has everything on a hyped up cycle. And a lot of my vegetables are not enjoying this extreme heat. They prefer the prairie's usual weather of high 80's, low 90's. Steady temps of 100 degrees and over have made them a little anemic. I've been watering abundantly (I swear I hear them gulping in the evenings when I set the soaker hoses on to run until midnight) and trying to keep up with the weeding, but like us humans, they are not enjoying these heat waves. My herbs are faring better. Especially my chives, peppermint, and lemon verbena. The chives are running rampant over the rosemary, acting like teenaged boys playing hoops, wild and careless. The peppermint is nudging out the chicory, it's sprightly, tingly smell permeating over everything. The lemon verbena is the tallest I have ever seen it; Liv and I will have an abundance of herbs to dry and then put in cheesecloth bags for Christmas gifts.

When I am in my garden, I am at peace. I work diligently, then look at my watch and am astonished that three hours have slipped by. But, my garden is so grateful for my care. Sometimes when no one is looking, I kiss my plants. Crazy? I don't care. I rub my Bells of Ireland softly over my face, let my Lamb's Ears rub gently over my cheeks. I am careful with the rose's thorns, mindful of their prick, but love inhaling their soft scent and kissing their petals very, very gently. I feel them all lean into me, whether they be poppies, green beans or basil, they love me right back. Bing often comes out to the garden with her camera to take photos of me gardening in my big sun hat, no makeup, faded cotton shirts, and ripped capris. She says that I look my best in my garden. Makes sense. I feel my best in the garden. I look at the photos later when she posts them on our fridge and I confess to liking them. I look younger in the garden, prettier than when I am all gussied up for work. I have a peaceful, joyous expression on my face, as if I am right where I should be.

It's been a hard week for Liv, so I will try to coax her into the garden with me tomorrow. Last night was prelims for her swim team. It had been a difficult day, healthwise, for her. She had her braces tightened that morning and was battling a pesky summer cold. Her nose was stuffy and she said that when she leaned over, her sinuses pulsated. But, she gamely put on her swimsuit and we drove to her prelims.

She was in four events and didn't do well. Placed fourth out of five in two and last in the other two. And she had the best times out of everyone to start with, so we hoped that she would take first. Bing joked after her first heat that we should run and get Mandy (pool bully) since like her mother, Liv tended to be a force worth reckoning with when she was hurt or angry. As you may remember, at her meet last week when Mandy was cruel to her, Liv placed first in ALL of her events. I agreed with Bing. Both Liv and I tend to do well when we are angry. Anger is a huge motivator. The best term paper that I ever wrote in college was the one I wrote after my mother disinherited me.

Liv was upset when she crawled out of the water, aware of how badly she did. Her coaches were a little stunned, but still supportive. When she asked them if they thought she might still qualify to be in the finals on Friday, they were honest with her. She had a very slim chance of making it in the 50 yard breaststroke and the butterfly, her best events this summer. They would post the ones who made it to the finals the next day at practice.

I strongly suspect that she didn't make it. When I dropped Liv off at practice this morning, I requested that she text me when she knew something since she was going home with a friend to spend the day at her house and wouldn't be home until I picked her up after supper. I waited until noon and then texted her to ask if she made any finals. No answer. I texted her again, demanding that she at least acknowledge me. She sent a text a few moments later: I'm fine. Let's talk tonight, okay?

I'm guessing she won't be going to finals.

And you know...I'm sad for her but not devastated. It is a lesson that she will need to learn. Sometimes you fail. Sometimes you have a bad day and don't do your best and well, you FAIL. And then you pick yourself up and go on. Hope that you do better the next time. Life is full of these kinds of lessons.

Sometimes people don't like you and you will never know why.

Sometimes you work hard on a paper and get a C.

Sometimes people break up with you because they find someone they like better.

Sometimes your team loses.

Sometimes your hair just looks stupid and nothing can help it.

Sometimes friends betray you.

and....

Sometimes you don't make the finals at the swim meet.

Liv will be fine. She will try again next year. I will be fine. I will adjust to office changes. Bing will be fine. Maybe her back will never heal completely, but she will go on. My plants will produce even if it is ungodly hot and way too dry.

We all just....keep moving, keep growing and do the best we can with what life gives or doesn't give us.

And pouting is for babies.

Time to fess up

I thought it might be um...kinda fun for us to share some real life bloopers that we've said or done.

I'll start.

When Liv was six, I signed her up for the only ballet class that she ever attended. She detested it, but did meet a friend there. His name was Jay and he was the only boy in the class. I wasn't crazy about his mother, but you know how it goes when your child finds a friend, you sort of do what you can to get along with the parent(s)...

His mother was one of the wealthiest women in the city. Her family owned a huge furniture store that is known all over the USA. But, she was a taker. She would set up play dates with Jay and Liv and always push for Jay to come to our home. And then she would drop him off and instead of being back to pick him up an hour or two later, she would have me keep him for like....eight or nine hours. I figured out quickly that she was using me for babysitting. On the few times that Liv visited their pretentious mansion home, it became clear to me that it was the nanny who did all the watching of children, Ms. B was usually out when I would drop Liv off, either getting her mani/pedi or her hair done, something. Since it took Liv several play dates before she was comfortable with me leaving, it would just be me and the nanny sitting around visiting. I learned a lot about what kind of person Ms. B was when the nanny was in tears one afternoon because she had asked to take a three day weekend to go home to Indiana to visit her family and Ms. B told her no, that she couldn't spare her and not to ask for more than one day over Christmas either since the family was Jewish and didn't celebrate.

To be honest, I pretty much detested Ms. B. But, one day when she dropped Jay off, she stayed for a few moments and confessed that he was having some problems at his kindergarten. She said that he was being teased for being Jewish.  I was appalled. Jay attended a very pricey private school and the family made very big donations to the school on a regular basis. No matter. It hurt me that other children would hurt Jay. I liked him. He was a bright, funny little boy, seemed kind of like a loner, but was so smart and Liv thought he was so much fun to play with.

Jay was an only child and for some reason, his parents had a nickname for him: Boo. I called him Boo playfully off and on and he asked me in a very serious tone if I would please not call him that because he disliked that nickname. I promised not to call him that again.

Well, that afternoon, I called the children in from playing outside to have a snack. I went to call Jay Boo and quickly tried to remedy the miss step and to call him Jay instead. Instead, I ended up calling:

"Time to come in Liv and Jew!" (Crazy mix of Jay and Boo!)

I was horrified at my blunder and immediately apologized to Jay and explained that I had almost called him Boo but then tried to change it to Jay and it came out all wrong. He was quiet, but said it was okay.

I forgot all about it and didn't mention it to his mother when she picked him up (four hours late!) That night, the phone rang and it was Ms. B. She informed me in a cold voice that Jay would never play with Liv again because I had "slipped up and made a racial slur." When I tried to explain, she would have none of it.

I felt awful for both Liv and me, but especially for Jay, because he obviously felt badly enough to tell his mother.

Jay's family is in the news a lot simply because they are so famous in our city, and unfortunately Jay has made a few headlines for getting kicked out of his private school for starting fires and using foul language. He is now in a boarding school in Kentucky.

You know, I made an honest mistake...but I have always felt just awful about my....blooper.

Anyone else have a terrible (but ok...kind of funny) story of something totally idiotic that they said or did?

Kind of a was-my-face-red moment?

Care to share?

A new set of wheels

We finally did it. Bought our new ride. And it was WAY too long coming. Plus...alas!....I won't be the major driver. Yep. That's right. We traded in Bing's cargo van for it.

Bing was having a lot of pain when she swung up into the van every day, so it was decided that instead of trading in my stinkin' old vehicle (2002!), we would trade in the van. So, the plan is that we take turns, but to be honest...don't know that I'll drive it much. My car isn't comfortable for Bing to drive much either. I have called dibs on it when it is snowy, though, since it does have 4 wheel drive and mine is rear wheel (and if you've ever driven in a blizzard with rear wheel drive, you can feel my pain, dudes...)

So....it's an arctic blue zoom zoomer with a moon roof and a ton of doohickeys.

I did joke with Bing that it's too bad it took a bad back to push her in the right direction.

Zoom...Zoom.

Liv learns a lesson: Mean Girls 101

Liv had a swim meet last week. It was hot as hell, just...god awful hot. But, she was in a good mood. We had taken her to the Olympic Swim Trials (can you see us???? we are in section b, row 4....sorry, smiling here....)



and she was all hyped up after seeing Michael Phelps.

Liv was also looking forward to seeing one of her friends from Montessori: Mandy. In her grade school experience at Montessori, she and Mandy had been pretty good friends. Mandy comes from a big family and is the youngest, so lots of noise at her house. She loved to spend the day and/or night at our house, commented often on how wonderfully serene our home was.

I always liked Mandy. She was the girl in Liv's class who was always in the middle. She wasn't particularly pretty, didn't stand out intellectually, and she was chubby...which I know was difficult for her (especially when her mother would drop her off at our house for a sleepover and remind me in front of her daughter not to let her eat too many sweets) so...she had my heart. She was a big reader and she and Liv traded books back and forth a lot and I thought that she had sort of a droll sense of humor in someone so young.

As I said, I always liked her.

The Montessori that Liv attended only went up to 6th grade, so it was bittersweet last year when everyone split up. Liv ended up going to a parochial school with her then bestie, Constance. Mandy went to a public school in one of the west (uppercrust) areas of the city. The girls stayed in touch off and on until about Thanksgiving and then it tapered off as they made new friends. But, Liv always considered Mandy one of her friends.

So, when we heard that Liv's swim team (the sharks) was to play Mandy's swim team (the schooners), we wondered if Mandy was still on the team. Liv texted Mandy but received no answer. On the night of the meet, we checked the roster and found Mandy's name, so Liv went in pursuit of her to say hello. She came back to my chair several moments later, her head down. I asked her if she found Mandy and she looked bewildered.

"Yeah," she said. "I did. But...well, she was acting so oddly."

I asked her to explain.

Apparently, she had seen Mandy with a group of girls and went up to her. They all had their swim suits on. When she exuberantly called hello to her, Mandy gave her a cool glance and mumbled something that sounded like hi, and then turned away with the other girls. They all went into the bathroom. Liv followed them. Suddenly one of the girls that Mandy was with turned around and said loudly, "Oh, god...she's freaking FOLLOWING us, Mands! You have a stalker!"

Liv was embarrassed and looked to Mandy to say something. Instead, Mandy turned around and gave her the once over and said, "And she's still as flat as a board! Wow. I have a flat chested stalker! Yikes!"

Stunned and hurt, Liv said that she turned to go and ended up stumbling a little, but caught herself. She heard the girls say something like "Walk much?" and then they all laughed.

When Liv told me this, I was so furious that I wanted to go shake Mandy. In fact, I spied Mandy's mother across the pool and started to get up, ready to go tell her what Mandy had done. Liv, seeing where this was headed, grabbed my arm.

"No, Mama!" she said. "That would only make me feel worse...just let it go. Okay?"

Reluctantly, I said ok. Liv left then to find her friends on her team and I sat back down to discuss things with Bing. As usual, Bing had the cool head while mine was frying hot.

"Let her fight her own battles, hon!" she said. "She has to learn to deal with mean girls just like the rest of us."

"But," I sputtered. "Mandy was such a nice girl! I can't believe she'd do that to Liv! She used to SPEND WEEKENDS at our house just last year!"

Bing, the experienced teacher, reminded me that junior high girls could be terrible bullies, that it was a weird age and that we didn't know the situation. Maybe Mandy was trying to fit in with a popular group, etc. We didn't know the facts and even so, we needed to let Liv handle it.

I wasn't convinced but I sat down.

A few moments later, Mandy and her pack of snotty ass bitches friends walked by us just as Liv was coming to us from the other way.

This time, nothing was said, but Mandy put her hand over the side of her face, creating a blinder and pointedly ignored Liv. After they passed her, they all broke into peals of snotty mean girl laughter. Liv, head held high, walked up to us and grabbed her water bottle. Said she needed to go get ready for her heat. I hugged her and wished her luck.

As soon as she was halfway away from me and not looking, I bolted from my seat before Bing could grab me. I race walked to where Mandy and her friends were standing. Mandy had gained weight and it didn't look attractive. I would have loved to hurt her right back by asking her if they allowed whales to compete, but I am the adult so I had to take the high road.

So, I went and stood and front of her and her dipshit friends. She looked up, recognized me, and blushed furiously. Before she could open her mouth, I leaned in and said as quietly as I could:

"I would have never pegged you to turn into one of those snotty mean girls, Mandy. You are SO much better than this sort of pathetic behavior."

Before she could answer, I stalked off. I heard one of her friends say loudly, "Wow...did you see that big hat that she had on? God, ugly much?"

I spun around again and they all scattered like the chicken shits they were, Mandy's face was still beet red. I watched them scamper off and then went back to my chair. Bing looked at me and sighed.

"You just had to do it, didn't you?"

I glared at her. "Liv can fight her own battles and she does. But, if you think that I'm going to let that little bad ass fuck around with my daughter's feelings IN FRONT OF ME, you have another thing coming."

Bing didn't answer. She knows when not to take me on.

Liv went on to take first place in every single one of her events. Mandy only swam in two relays and she pretty much lost the race for her team, taking them from second place to last.  I remember from meets past that she never was a great swimmer. I used to feel sort of badly for her, but I was always proud of her for trying so hard. Not this time. This time, I felt like laughing at her and pointing. But...you know...I didn't. You can't fight mean with mean. But you CAN fight mean with truth. And I felt as if I did.

I didn't tell Liv that I spoke to Mandy and as far as I know, she didn't notice.

I wish that I was a better person, wish that I could find some kindness in my heart for Mandy. But, I can't. We all have choices. We can choose to be good, we can choose to be kind. Or...we can choose to be mean, choose to walk in that dark place. I'm not stupid. I don't think I shamed Mandy into changing her tune, but I wanted her to know that someone saw her, you know? I wanted to force her to think about her behavior.

What do you think? Should I have, as Bing suggested, just let it go? Or was I in the right?

What would you have done?

Running into Gina

We were at the grocery store last night after our workout (I still can't believe I actually have a workout) picking up some ground turkey for 4th of July burgers.

I was crabby. Everybody is crabby. We are in the midst of a heat wave. A string of days with over 100 degree weather. High humidity. Our house is like a cave with our plantation shutters clattered tightly shut. The air conditioning drones on and on, hardly ever stopping to rest.

I'm not sleeping well. When we had window units instead of central air, we had a big unit in our bedroom and it was like a meat locker. I slept like a rock. Now, with central air, our bedroom is what our a/c guy calls "the last stop" meaning that our room gets cooled last since it is the farthest away from the air handler, besides having floor to ceiling windows facing the south, so we get the hottest sun of the day. Our thermostat is set on 78 degrees, but our room is hotter. So, I sleep fitfully and am having trouble adjusting to sleeping without the loud window unit that I had become accustomed to hearing all night long.

I usually love Summer, love working in my garden, sitting outside at night watching fireflies and having a drippy iced green tea sweating all down my bare leg.

This Summer has been brutal. So incredibly hot and humid. I can't garden in the evenings, it is still so muggy that my glasses continually fog up and slip down my nose and the bugs are ferocious. I try to garden in the early hours before work, but find that I am tired and cranky, resentful to be up at 5 in the morning. We haven't sat outside in over a week. Just too hot. Last night, a country club near us threw their annual 4th of July celebration and had incredible fireworks. We sat outside for the first five minutes and then slumped back indoors, sweating like pigs and bitten raw by mosquitoes.

So, when we were at the grocery, I was crabby to begin with, but made even crabbier when some woman chatted me up over the oranges, saying that we had better get used to this Summer weather.

"I believe that they call this global warming!" she said in a way too chipper voice.

I smiled fakily at her and moved to look at the cherries. I grabbed a big box to put in the cart and then headed to the cucumbers since ours aren't big enough to pick yet at home. I picked up an overly waxed one and looked carefully at it to make sure that there weren't many imperfections. I heard someone softly say my name with a question behind it.

"Maria? Maria Lastname?"

I looked up into the face of a pretty woman with blonde hair straying into gray. She had round blue eyes and a guileless look. Something seemed familiar, but? Hmmm. Couldn't really place her...

I said, "Yes, I'm Maria Lastname."

She smiled. "Well, god bless me. I'm Gina. Gina Ramsey! From Small town, Iowa? We went to school together at Our Lady of Perpetual Piety."

Oh! Wow. Yes, now I could see. Gina.

I smiled and we hugged. I asked her what she was doing in the city and she laughed a little sheepishly.

"Well, as you might have heard, I married a farmer from Clute and well....both of our girls are going to their in laws for the 4th, so Clem and I just decided that we'd treat ourselves to a holiday in the city. We are staying in a hotel. Only our 3rd time in a hotel and we're going to the park tomorrow to watch the fireworks. And then I'll shop the next day and on the way home, we'll stop at a John Deere so Clem can look at their new tractors. How ARE you? I haven't seen you since high school! But, you know...you still look remarkably the same!"

It was quickly decided that Gina would follow Bing and me home so that we could visit.

Gina called her husband back at the hotel and told him that she'd be back to the hotel a little later, had run into a friend. We found Bing and introductions were made. I was just a little nervous. I recalled that Gina had always wanted to be a nun and I'd been surprised when my Mother wrote to me that she had married only a year out of high school. But, Gina didn't bat an eye. We bought our groceries and Gina bought the strawberries she had purchased ("Clem and I like to eat strawberries while we watch television at night.")

I followed Gina to her car and guided her to my home. She was appropriately impressed.

"What a beautiful old home! And it looks so happy! You've done well for yourself it seems!"

I introduced Gina to Liv and she shook her hand gently. Told her that she must look like her Daddy since she looked nothing like her Mama. Liv smiled, said everyone said that she looked like her Father but had my personality.

Gina's eyes were warm.

"Well, lucky you!" she said. "Your Mother was always such a good person, kind to everyone. And smart as a whip. Do you get good grades? I imagine you do!"

Liv nodded yes and went to bring us iced tea while I gave Gina a quick house tour (with the emphasis on quick since in my crabby state, I had been a poor housekeeper) and led her out to the sun porch. We both found seats and Gina sat down. Socks, who is generally shy around newcomers, promptly went to her and sat on her foot, his way of saying he liked her. Gina leaned down and petted around his ears, which he adores. They were instant friends.

We caught up. Gina had met Clem the summer after we graduated from high school and they had married less than a year later. She only went to one semester of college and then quit forever to become a farm wife. They lived with his parents and still lived in the same home, although his parents were both dead now. They inherited the family farm and he grew soybeans and corn while she raised prize winning chickens and had a pretty healthy egg business. They had two daughters, Joy and Charity, who were now married and living on adjoining farms with their farmer husbands.

"It's a quiet life," Gina said. "But, it suits me, you know?"

I said yes. Gina had always been a little quiet. But a warm quiet.

Gina told me that she did know all about my life.

"We come from a small town," she said softly. "You were big news when your Mother disinherited you."

I nodded, not really knowing what to say.

She went on.

"There are a lot of us who disagreed with what she did, how she treated you, Maria. We're small town people, but not ignorant. I knew you in high school. I knew your true colors. I'd always thought you were so funny and so smart. You hung around with the brains, remember how we had names for all our groups? And yet, that one time when we had to do that silly project for religion about picking a saint and we were partners? Well, I had such a good time with you. What saint did we pick? Who was it. The one who had her breasts torn off? Remember how we just shuddered over that.....and well, okay...we laughed too...."

I chuckled. "Oh, good lord! It was St. Agatha!"

"The patron saint of people with breast cancer!" we both exclaimed at the same time.

"Remember how we had to have a picture of our saint to show the class?" I remembered. "And we were so embarrassed because in every single one that we found of her, she was holding a tray with her naked perfect perky breasts on it!"

We laughed together.

I went on. "And yes, those groups in high school. Let's see...yes, I hung around with those girls who were dubbed the brains,then there was Eileen Monaghan's group...what were they called? The dopers. The ones who were always either talking about getting high or already high...."

Gina spoke up. "And don't forget the holy rollers. That would be MY group. Let's see...and the popular girls, they were the blondies, remember they all had that awful Farrah Fawcett hair and those brassy blonde streaks? And wore SO much makeup. You would see a line between their jawline and neckline where they used foundation. Oh my goodness! And the girls who were good at sports. The jocks.And god...how awful. Remember what we called the ones who weren't smart? The 'tards. God, how awful. And we were a CATHOLIC school. Shame on us."

We both looked at each other and sighed. Went on to another topic. High school had high points and lows. Calling any group of people 'tards was just....so bad.

She asked me to tell her about my life and so I did. I told her of my schooling, of surviving, but just barely without my mother's college tuition money and a family to come home to. Of working in the cafeteria and wearing the dreaded hair net and stealing apples and bananas to take home for my lunch. I told her of all my jobs. The first one: working in an ER. The next: working in a hospice for Aids patients. And then, working in the cushy world of a private practice with a clientele of mostly wealthy women who wanted to be counseled every week for problems having to do with boredom, empty nest syndrome and resentment that their husbands didn't make enough to keep up with the Joneses. I told her of how my life derailed in a beautiful way after Liv was born. How I could never knock my job in private practice since it earned me enough money to stay home with Liv for the first five years of her life. How I supplemented my savings by working part time as a jury consultant. And then my years working after Liv was in school, teaching at a university, then working at a hospital in administration as a medical fact checker on all the charts and finally my job now working with children at risk.

After telling her all of this, I sat back, a little stunned at my long and frankly, pretty impressive career path.

And then I told her about Bing and our winding road to commitment. Our happy life together raising Liv. I told her about Liv's Father, his career.

When I sat back again, Gina was beaming at me.

She leaned forward and took my hand.

"You did good, Maria," she said. "You've done well for yourself. Your mother really missed out on something incredible: watching you shine."

I don't know if Gina will ever know how much it meant to me to hear her say that.

We talked for another hour, catching up on anything and everything. Gina is still very much a part of her church, is head of the altar society, cleans the church once a week and is on a volunteer crew of women who help out at all the funeral masses and luncheons. She talked about her daughters, how she loved being a mother, even when they were teenagers and a bit rebellious. How she sewed both of her daughter's wedding gowns by hand and even made her famous German potato salad for their wedding luncheons ("There I was in my mother-of-the-bride outfit, wearing an apron and carrying out these big containers of potato salad! I was just so insistent on doing it all myself!")

We talked until our tongues were tired. And then she looked at the clock and started. 3 hours had gone by! I invited her to call her husband to come to supper with us and she declined. No, they had a reservation at a fancy restaurant ("I am wearing high heels, Maria! I can't remember the last time I did that!") and then were going to spend the fourth watching the parade in Ralston even though, yes, it sure was hot as Hades out there.

I walked her to her car and made sure that she knew how to get back to her hotel. I had Liv run back into the house to get the strawberries that we had stored for her in our fridge. As Liv sprinted back to the house, Gina leaned in and whispered to me.

"Actually, I sort of lied when I told you that Clem and I liked to eat strawberries while we watch television. We like to eat strawberries after we make love. It's kind of a signal for us when one of us brings home strawberries! Well, for mercies sake we are in our mid 50's and been married for over 30 years! You have to prime the pump sometimes just to get the water started, you know?"

We both laughed then and when Liv handed me the strawberries, I put them in her hands and told her to have a good time that night. Gina blushed and smiled. And for just a moment, we were both high school girls. She had her white blonde hair back in a pert ponytail and her pale pink lipstick on her lips and there I was with my long mousy brown hair back in the constant braid down my back, with my high top sneakers, wearing some tee shirt with a radical saying on it, hoping that my Mother would be scandalized.

When we hugged goodbye, Gina kissed my cheek and said, "You are a child of God, Maria. Even if you don't believe, I believe for you and I can tell you right now that there is a place for you in heaven. You are a good soul. Your daughter is so much like you. It's like watching you back in high school. And Bing adores you. Her love for you is written all over her face. You are a person of GREAT VALUE. Frankly, I always thought that what your Mother did to you was disgraceful. I always liked you from the first time we met, way back in Kindergarten. You are one of the good ones and you....you didn't deserve the pain that she put you through. I always hoped that you landed on your feet and now I see that you have. Thanks for the lovely afternoon. Did I remember to give you my facebook address?"

I said that yes, she had. But, I knew I wouldn't go there. I don't belong to Facebook, never have, never will. I also had her address now and I thought to myself that I would write to Gina. Because she always had been and always would be a good friend. And those don't grow on trees. I would keep in touch with her, writing to her and she promised to send me photos of her chickens. Especially, Rodney the rooster who woke her and Clem up every morning at 4:28 sharp.

When we hugged again, we held each other for a long, long time. And when we pulled apart we were both in tears. Two middle aged women who had been missing each other for a long time and had finally found one another again.

Gina, I told you about my blog. So...this one is for you. Thanks for your kind words, but mostly thank you for putting balm on a sore that has long gone unhealed for me.

Oh...and I also ordered you a prayer card for St. Agatha. And yes, those breasts are still on that platter.

Who would you want next to you at the end of the world?

Bing, Liv and I saw this movie today.



It was pretty good. Some incredibly good moments, some kind of forced ones. But, in general, we enjoyed it.

It gave us fodder for conversation on the way home. The movie's premise is that a meteor is going to hit the earth in three weeks time and our world will end.

There is looting. There are those who decide to live dangerously, find God, do things that never would have occurred to them if not for this.

Bing asked us what we'd do if we only had three weeks to live. And, not surprisingly, we all were pretty much in agreement.

We wouldn't be trying to say final goodbyes to our extended family. That sort of surprised me. When my family disowned me years ago, I was so lonely for them. I remember feeling incredible melancholy on holidays, etc. Then, my mother died and my sisters decided that this shunning thing because I was a lesbian was just a bad idea on her part and they all came back, one by one. Celia, who never really disowned me in the first place but communicated with me secretly, was back instantly. Jessie apologized 6 months later. My sister, Patrice, was the last hold out, waiting almost 7 years to call me.

And then, just like that, I was back. And you'd think I would have been so glad, yes? Well, here's the funny thing. I was and I wasn't. I had missed my sisters, but I did not miss their husbands. Especially not Patrice's incredibly racist husband.

And I had grown up a lot in that time of shunning. I had been raised in a family where we didn't talk much about uncomfortable things. And nothing had changed. So, I sat with Bing and my daughter through many, many holiday dinners at which I seethed at my brother in law and his deep ignorance and idiocy. And no one said anything. Except me. And then I was looked at as a rabble rouser. Someone who stirred the pot.

Just ignore him! one of my sisters told me. She said that this is what she did. That on the car ride down to stay for the holidays, she would instruct her daughters to just ignore Uncle Bob. She went on to say that they would say a rosary together to pray for his soul on the way home.

But no one except Bing or I ever spoke up against him.

It made me dread holidays. I would love seeing my sisters and dread seeing my brother in law, who basically fucked everything up and then sat there smugly smiling and letting us know that he and my sister were dripping in wealth and look how happy their lives were!

I am close to my sisters, but there is always this wall there too. That wall that was built when my mother disowned me and they obeyed her mandate that I be shunned. I have always known in my heart that I would have never done that to them and yet, yet....they didn't love me enough to stand by me. It has prevented us from getting too close.

Instead, I bonded with my friends and with my partner and child. When I think of my real family, it is them. NOT my biological family.

So...if a meteor was going to hit Earth and I had only three weeks to live? I would probably call my sisters to say that I loved them but I would choose to hunker down in our old Victorian home and spend those last weeks with Bing and Liv.

I would try to read the books that I always wanted to read. And I would say everything that needed to be said to my partner and daughter. With Liv, it would be easier, because I have always had no trouble voicing my love for her, my pride in her character. With Bing, there would be more to say. There have been too many times when I took her love for granted, didn't tell her that after knowing her for almost 37 years, she is still the one who fascinates me the most, whom I love with my whole heart, whose arms I want to die in. I would make sure to say all those things.

And then, I would stock up on all the foods that we all love and we would eat whatever we wanted and watch wonderful old movies and play games and probably not get enough sleep, because who wants to lose even an hour with each other?

But, I would want to be with them. No one else. No traveling to see relatives, the grand canyon or the sea. I would stay put and enjoy every last moment with them. No work. Just talking and holding hands. Pouring as much love as possible all over all three of us.

That is what I told Bing when she posed the question. Liv said that she agreed. That it should just be the three of us and Socks and if there was any way her dad could join us, she'd want him too.

Bing smiled at Liv in the rear view mirror. 

"Me too," she said. "Just the two biggest loves of my life and Socks. All of us going down together. I would want to spend my last moments on this earth holding your hands and feeling like I have had a good life, such a happy life."

So...a meteor is going to hit the earth and smash it to smithereens. No hope in sight. No way to stop it.  Where do you spend your last 3 weeks on earth?

And with whom?