Weeds for Dinner

Some time ago, I wrote about taking the "Long Walk Home". The post was inspired by a Springsteen song, and to me, it was about rediscovering myself in light of the divorce, rediscovering myself despite my past, my upbringing, my fears and rediscovering myself in order to share the light of my soul with my children and those around me.

Last year, on March 7th, I stood next to my brother Jeff at a Springsteen concert. It was just him and me, me and him and about a dozen Budweisers each. We sang, temple to temple, at the top of our lungs throughout the entire concert. In the last few songs, Springsteen was winding down (which means that everyone was screaming, sweating and smiling), and he started in with the song, "Long Walk Home." I was still very fragile from the divorce (my glass heart was shattered, if I'm honest) and the first line of the song is: Last night I stood at your doorstep, trying to figure out what went wrong, you just slipped something into my palm and you were gone (I always envisioned his wedding ring being slipped into my palm...)Anyway, when the song began, the tears welled up and I started to cry. And Jeff glanced at me, did the double-take and then put both his arms around me and hugged me hard, and the look in those brown eyes was so full of love for his little sister, such concern, such compassion - and like the brother he was, he held me - his big, ape-like arms wrapped around me - during the entire song. After a while, the tears dissapated, my heart was full of love, and Bruce did his job. The moment had passed.

Today was a rough one. Rough. I talked with my brother Jim, heard the anger and sadness in his voice and my heart broke again. I talked to my parents - each, in turn - and again, my heart broke. For them. It broke for them. Not me.

Tonight, it broke for me. Again.

I was outside with the kids. Paige was home from school for the second day in a row (poor baby had the flu), and because it was so nice out, and because she was feeling better, I put their jackets on them and compelled them to spend some time in the sunshine with me. We took a walk, exploring. Right in front of the barn there are weeds growing through the "pavement" and Tony began to pick them, and Paige began to dig them up with her little shovel. I just watched, not really caring. But then I looked down and saw a monster of a dandelion - it was as big as my head, no flowers, just big leafy greens. I thought, "Umm... dinner." So I picked it, still talking with my mother and told her that I was having a dandelion salad for dinner. I ran up the stairs, soaked the weeds in cold water and salivated over the thought.

When it was time to actually think about dinner, I asked Tony if he wanted pasta, and he said, "I thought we were having weeds for dinner tonight?" He was so serious, and so trusting of my cooking abilities! I, of course, made the pasta for him and the dandelion salad for myself. He tried it though - loved the olive oil & red wine vinegar but wasn't so fond of the weeds themselves.

It was delicious and I thought of Jeff the entire time I ate it. One, because when he visited in October, he bought the bottle of olive oil & red wine vinegar (I just happened to be out), and two, he gave me that weed to pick. I haven't had a "wild" dandelion salad in 15 years - never even thought of picking one out of my backyard - but today, it was all I wanted. It took me back home - back to the house on Shirley road - in the backyard, picking dandelion leafs with Jeff, then shooting hoops with him, swimming in the pool, drinking beer, sneaking beer, playing video games, playing trucks, going fishing, playing baseball, hide and seek, football, grape wars, high school pranks, laughter... it took me back home with my big brother.

And it broke my heart.

Right Now

Right now, someone is crying,
someone is dying,
someone is lying...

Right now, someone is making love for the first time,
for the last time,
for the only time.

Right now, someone is laughing their head off,
someone is giggling from tickles,
from glee,
from glory...

Right now,someone is puking their guts out,
from grief,
from sickness,
from drinking,
from chemo...

Right now, someone is wandering,
wondering,
pondering
their life.

Right now, someone is shooting heroine,
smoking pot,
caressing a whiskey,
swallowing tequila and,
wondering...
wandering, pondering,
their life.

Right now, somone is saying goodbye,
shocked by a goodbye,
mourning never having said goodbye...

or lifting a glass for a toast to a new love,
an old love,
a lost love,
a brother,
a mother,
a father,
a sister,
a friend.

Right now, someone else is feeling
exactly what you are feeling.

Right now, the pen will stop writing

...and life will go on.

Peace

I awoke at 4:30, grateful for the seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. I looked to my right and found that Tony and Paige had both snuck into my bed again, without interrupting me. I lay there for a few moments, realizing that my body was still tired, but my mind was awake. I kissed Tony's forehead and whispered, "Love you." In his sleep, he whispered, "love you too" barely intelligible, but he said it. I smiled.

I put on my slippers and robe, grabbed a blanket off the sofa and wrapped it around me. I sat on my back deck and looked at the stars. I spoke out loud to the heavens, reaffirmed my belief in God, reaffirmed my belief in heaven, and sent much love to Jeff - visualizing his happiness up there.

Then I plopped down on the sofa with a warm cup of coffee and watched an entire movie about love. It was a cheesy romantic comedy with Sarah Jessica Parker, but it was nice to just chill.

It is still dark outside. I wonder if the sunrise will be brilliant and beautiful as it usually is when I open my heart up to see it. I wonder what events will occur today that will propel me forward. I wonder if the hesitancies in my soul will regain strength today. I wonder if this feeling of weakness in my reserves will lighten a bit. I wonder if today I will be a little less lonesome, a little less tired, a little less sad, a little less disoriented. I wonder if the events of the day will propel me forward or send me spinning for another go 'round of confusion.

Whatever unfolds, I am prepared. I carry in my heart enough ammunition to make it through. I have on the armour that will protect me. And the sunrise should give me enough patching material to fix any holes in that armour, the sunrise should provide more bullets for protection.

I wonder what today will bring to me.

Twisted

At 3:16am, when Tony crawled into my bed, shoved me into the middle and kissed me on the cheek before snoring again, I was grateful for the solid two hours of sleep I had received. After all, I was in and out of ten minute intervals of sleep since 10pm... ten minutes of sleep, twenty minutes of reading until my eyes grew droopy again, ten minutes of sleep, twenty minutes of reading... by the time 1am rolled around, I was so annoyed, it was, well, rather annoying.

At 5:12am, I was grateful for that three hour sleep, and actually felt refreshed. So I got up. Now I'm beat again.

Over the past eight weeks, my body has taken a beating. The backache is back, the headache that I had finally gotten rid of at the start of my separation is back, my eyes look like I should be an extra for the Michael Jackson "Thriller" video, and my hair hurts.

Inside and out, wet, twisted and wrung out. I am hanging to dry now - much more wrinkly and undefined than when all of this started. But I suppose that in time, the sun will warm me, the stiffness will soften and I'll be blowing in the breeze again, a little worse for the wear, but moving. And then maybe my hair will stop hurting.

Mother's Little Helper

The Stones have a song called Mother's Little Helper, and it's a song about the mama in distress reaching for a pill to get her through bathtime, dinnertime and off into dreamland.

Man, I wish I had one of those pills.

Of course, as a mother, I don't think I really need it. I mean, the kids ground me. It's the moments I spend alone and inside my head that I need help with. Obviously, alcohol doesn't work and the hangover sits like a blistered canker sore in your mouth throughout the day, making sleep less possible, making the ennui greater.

I spent two years going through my soul. I discarded the unpleasant things, redefined my husband into something more or less palatable (depending on the day) just so that I could chew and swallow the divorce. I spent time reading, crying, and purging my soul to become a better person. All the while I did this, I imagined that some sort of miracle would occur in my life, and that all my dreams would be answered because I had suffered so much.

Where is that miracle? And is this the correct longing to have? Success comes from hard work, determination, blah, blah, blah... but what is the success? What is it that I want? What is it that I expect to be the miracle? Winning the lottery? Money won't take the pain away; money won't give me a greater understanding of my husband's motives; money will not make the unknowns any more visible. What if I fell in love again? I just read a quote from a book, and I'll paraphrase what she said... if she gives her glass heart away, and falls deeply in love again, she is destined for it to be broken one way or another (death or departure)... deep thought, but then she goes on to describe the inevitable heartbreak as the "loveliness of love." Healthy viewpoint?

The answer isn't a mother's little helper pill. The answer isn't money, or falling into a romantic love. Yet, yet there are miracles. I'm grasping the answer as I type... on the tip of my tongue. I don't need a pill when I'm with my children, I don't need a pill when I'm laughing with friends and family...

So, the miracle is love. LOVE: our little helper.

I still feel the canker sore, but with a little more help, it'll heal. It will heal, and hope will soar.

The Tender Ache of Absence

The tender ache of his absence, even in light of being here and not knowing any differently - the absence is solid, and damp and heavy on my heart. Seeing pictures and the light in his eyes... the tender ache of his absence, so obvious and so real. How can the absence of something be so apparent? How can the absence break the inside of one's heart? The tender ache of absence from this life. Life without the break, life without the ache, life without the absence, is impossible.

What is missing from my heart now, is a reminder of what used to be. And what used to be is a reminder of what is important from now until my own death. My life, my tender ache, my broken heart shall compel me forward through the darkness, and into the moments that once were.

The tender ache will never go away, but the tender ache will help me build a life from all things important.

In the meantime, the ache sucks.

I'm Up

The birds are back in Maryland. I stood on my wet porch and listened to the various tunes and was reminded of my three year old Paige, when at 5 o'clock in the morning the birds were singing and I heard her yell from her bedroom, "Please be quiet!" When I went in to check on her, she asked so innocently, "Why do they wake me up every morning?"

It is what they do, and I suppose it's a nicer way to wake than Tony's "Cocka-doodle-do" parade.

Nah. That's classic.

This morning, I swear one of them had a kazoo, and another had one of those noise makers we use on New Year's Eve.

Sing, birdies, sing! Welcome in spring.

Eulogy, by Request

In our grief,
regret is not welcome.
In our grief,
our sadness moves us to Grace,
In our grief,
there is no room for anger.
In our grief,
love prevails.

Love prevails.

Love as the husband to Lynn. Love as the daddy to John, Farrah and Rocco. Love as the son of Mom & Dad. Love as the brother of Corinne, Chuck, John, Dana, Cliff, Kathy, Jim, Lisa and me. Love to Adam, Andrea, Matt, Nicole, Jake, James, Sam, Paige and Tony – their Uncle Bozo. Love to his aunts and uncles, cousins, his friends, his work, to the town of North Collins – fun-loving, high-spirited, streaking clown of love.

Our best friend.

His love prevails.

I can hear my Mom’s voice, haunting me. “Jeff’s gone, Carrie, he’s gone…” she said in her own grief-stricken voice and we cried together. But I say now, “No Ma, he’s not gone. He’s right here. He’s right here in our hearts. And he’ll be at the next Bruce concert, he’ll be at the next Yankees game, he’ll be at the dinner table for pasta on Sundays, he’ll be cooking at Christmas, he’ll be in the dandelion salad and the stuffed hot peppers, he’ll be sticking his finger in your mouth whenever you yawn, he’ll be dancing to the YMCA every single time we hear it, he’ll be wrapping his arms around the kids, he’ll be in every ice sculpture, shooting hoops, swinging a bat; he’ll be dipping a chew, he’ll be drinking a beer, or two, or three.

He is loving his friends, loving his aunts and uncles and cousins; loving his nieces and nephews; loving his brothers and sisters, loving his Mom and Dad, loving his babies. He is loving his wife.

He’ll be here always, in every smile, every giggle, every act of kindness and generosity. He’ll be here because love prevails. And Jeff is love.

Wonderland

I spent the day painting again. My first go at the downstairs bathroom resulted in a Barney purple catastrophe, and so I've lightened the shade to a lovely lilac, that gives light to the days that have passed over the past two months.

In my mind, I was always certain that the shadows of death would greet me when I was ready, when the time was right for me to entertain the idea of a catostrophic death such as what has just occurred. As I painted, I thought about the worth of people - how the book that Jeff was in had been written. My brother called him a "walking celebration" and there probably isn't a more apt title for him.

We stand ankle deep in the muck of our own hesitancies toward writing our own book, and it's so sad, especially when the death of a walking celebration has to occur in order to understand that. My best friend Bruce says it much more succinctly than I ever could, so I give the floor to him for a moment:


Your clothes give way to the current and river stone
'Till every trace of who you ever were is gone
And the things of the earth they make their claim
That the things of heaven may do the same
Goodbye, my darling, for your love I give God thanks.

There is not much I understand about the death of someone so animated, so unique and so young with three children and a young marriage. There is no capacity in my little, unknowing mind, to even try to understand it. And it's easy to get angry, I suppose, and to have regrets, and to feel the darkness of that vacancy. It's easier to do that sometimes than to relish in the blessings of it all. It seems to disparage his life when you try to find blessings from his death... it seems callous and hard, yet, the only choice any of us have in living our own life is to do just that. I've walked through the darkness of hopelessness and despair and pain and desperation and I simply refuse to do that again. Grieving does not give way to the darkness, if that makes sense. Grieving does not open a path to darkness. It seems that grieving gives the opportunity to put back together the things that have fallen apart.... grieving allows the things of the earth to make their claim so that the things of heaven may do the same. That's my understanding of this right now. That's my blessing.

The traces of light one may find in this life on earth are incredibly miniscule when one thinks about the walking celebration as he moves through heaven. And for that love, I give God thanks.

Quiet Observations

The plane ride was bumpy, and the kids grew concerned when the flight attendants were directed by the pilot to put down the peanuts and buckle up until the plane got through the turbulence. Usually, my heart is hammering and my stomach is rolling in moments like that. This time, I held the hands of my children and didn't think much of it. If the plane crashed, it crashed. I live for my children and they'd be with me, so... (Sorry mom & dad and siblings - I really would feel bad if you had to go through the crappiness of last week again, but you never know, right?)

The airline lost one of our bags - it stayed in Buffalo for a longer visit, apparently. So that was fun.

My friend picked us up at the airport. We greeted each other with kisses and hugs, got the kids buckled up and started for home. I didn't say much at all - just stared out the window at the gray clouds and felt nothing but the vacancy. When we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I saw beyond the brown lawn and withered front garden was bright yellow daffodils... The daffodils in my front garden had bloomed and there had to be a dozen of them - perfectly healthy. Just for me. My house seemed brighter, and my spirits lifted a little.

I walked into a clean house. My friend, Amy, brought her four year old and two year old over while I was gone and cleaned the entire house - top to bottom - laundry and all. Yeah. Not only was the house clean, but I had flowers, plants, a fruit basket, mass cards and a stack of sympathy cards waiting for me. Incredible. I cried, not out of grief, but because I am so blessed to have such good people in my life. I was dreading coming back here, but my friends care.

Then Amy reaches into another bag and pulls out a bottle of Grey Goose - "Happy Birthday, girl!" Oh yeah, we opened that in a few minutes and I watched as my kids ran around with her two kids. I sat at the table and observed them, and I observed Amy as she pulled out chicken and vegetables, reached for the spices, pots and pans and cooked dinner. Jessica showed up, ate dinner, poured a drink and they cleaned up the kitchen, like that last couple hours hadn't happened. I observed. My neighbor showed up later to check on me and brought in another pile of cards from the mailbox.

We didn't talk about Jeff much at first. For some reason, I was trying to hide the pain from them - as though I would burden them, but then I said something and they asked questions and they listened to me describe him, and the funeral and how I was feeling inside. No tears were shed, and I think that might have been because the blessings kind of helped me steady the grief.

My mom said, "Wow, you all have wonderful people in your life," after I described my homecoming. Yeah, we sure do. Mom and Dad, you did good.

I Can Only Imagine

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When that day comes
And I find myself
Standing in the Son

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever
Forever worship You
I can only imagine

I can only imagine

I can only imagine
When all I will do
Is forever, forever worship you

I can only imagine

Copyright: Mercy Me

How Are You?

The day was long and lonely. I spent the first ten hours that I was awake feeling overwhelmed - unable to get a hold of anything. I did some work, wrote correspondence, made a few phone calls, answered a few emails, and then simply shut down. I was trying to sort through my finances, figure out my career, determine my visit with Jeff this weekend, contemplate turning 37 on Sunday, and prepping for dinner. My lawyer called to see if the trial was still on. We haven't signed the settlement agreement yet, because, wonder of all wonders, we couldn't agree on all the little things. So I called my husband to see where he stood on it. We talked cordially and then, well it snowballed into blame and anger and I had to hang up. There was way too much fighting for my emotions, this is one that had been stapled up and covered in several band-aids. I simply couldn't afford to open that wound back up.

I got Paige off the bus, she buckled herself into the car seat and we set off to get Tony. My brother called as we were getting back into the car to head for home. I said, "Oh please give me some good news, I cannot handle anything else right now." And he did, he gave me an update on Jeff and had a real positive attitude. He had been hit by the faith and hope fairy that afternoon. When we pulled into the drive-way, I was still talking to him. Paige said, "Mommy, excuse me, can you tell him to hold?" I did, covered the phone and said, "Yes?" Tears were forming in her eyes and she said, "I didn't have my seat belt on all the way home." I said, "Why?" And she started crying, "I thought you buckled me in and when I realized you didn't, I didn't want to tell you because you were on the phone." My brother heard everything and said, "You're turning into Britney Spears." We laughed as I hugged Paige and gathered the backpacks, mail, lunch boxes and my purse and went into the house.

Still talking to my brother about Jeff, I looked around to find Tony. He was still in the truck, buckled into his three-point harness! I walked out there, told Cliff I had left him in the truck, and confessed to another Britney Spears moment.

After that, I gave my attention to the kids... until the phone rang (my financial advisor) and again (my lawyer) and again (my cousin Sally). All of them asked me how I was before beginning to talk. How are you? Simple phrase, and meaningful. My answer was: "Eh." My mood had lifted with Cliff, but after the conversation with Sally, I felt better, much better. There is always that one person, I've found, on a shitty day who calls and says something that simply puts things into perspective. I don't know if she knew she did something wonderful, but I sure felt it for a while.

The evening progressed nicely. Kids were fed, adored, bathed and ready for bed. And the phone rang. Caller I.D. It was daddy. I picked up the phone and handed it to Paige, to tired for superficial greetings. He asked to speak to me. In the seconds it took to put the phone to my ear, I panicked, grew angry, grew tired and resigned myself to not be bothered by whatever we said to each other.

"Hello."
"Uh, hi. I just wanted to know, ah, how are you?"
I think I grunted a little. "I mean, how are you? How are you handling things?"
It was silent because I was stunned, and I said, "I'm a mess."
Silence. Nothing.
"But I'll get through it," I added.
"Oh good. I know you'll get through it."
"Yeah, I've gotten through worse already." I answered.
"Well, that's all I wanted to know."

Oh, okay.

I spent the next eight hours thinking this conversation over. Dissecting it. Why did he ask? Was it a moment of clarity? Weakness? Strategy? I wish I would have answered differently! I wish I would have answered in one of these two ways:

Alternative #1: "How am I? I am lonely, tired, going through the the top two most difficult things in my life with Jeff being sick and you are in love with someone else and seeking solace in the knowledge of my comfort? I am not fine. My heart is still broken, I am still in shock, I am overwhelmed and I am without the husband that promised to me in front of God to struggle through a life together - through thick and thin. How am I? I feel just as out of control, a little less hurt inside and as heartbroken as the day you left me - but you failed to call me on that day. Please don't ask me how I am because I have a wound that cuts so deep in my heart that a kind word from you might possibly break it open and cause me to bleed to death. I'd rather you remain cold-hearted and abrasive. Save the heat for the new love of your life."

Alternative #2: "Fine, and you?"

But of course, I answered truthfully.

I am fine. Just dandy. Never been better.

Bock, Chicken, Bock, Bock

Tony has this wonderful habit of calling me a "Bock Chicken". I believe that calling me a Bock Chicken is actually a term of endearment and so I love it whenever he says it to me - usually after I've begged him for a kiss or hug.

He'll also say "Bock, chicken, bock, bock" whenever he feels uncomfortable. If I tell him no, he cannot have an ice cream cone for breakfast, lunch or dinner, he says, "Bock, chicken, bock, bock." When I tell him to put on his boots instead of his Lightning McQueen sneakers, he answers with "Bock, chicken, bock, bock."

Wouldn't it be nice to get away with saying this every time we're uncomfortable?

"I'm sorry M'am, your heating unit is gone. You'll have to pay $5000 to fix it."

"Bock, chicken, bock, bock."

Or your ex calls you, screaming at you for no reason other than to regain control.

"Bock, chicken, bock, bock." And you hang up the phone.

"You're fired." Your red faced boss yells at you, feeling slightly uncomfortable in his undersized chair and cubicle.

You hold the palm of your hand in front of your face to inspect it, turn it over to inspect the cuticles and reply nonchalantly, "Bock, chicken, bock, bock."

"You lost everything in your portfolio. You actually owe money. Your house burned down. It was your fault and so your insurance will not cover the costs. Your neighbors got mad because a tree fell on their back shed and so they shot the dog. To death. Your wife left you for a younger version of your brother, and the clothes you're wearing stink, but on a good note, you at least, own them."

"Bock, chicken, bock, bock."

Yes, it is my new catchphrase. Life gives you lemons, you say, "Bock, chicken, bock, bock."

Interesting Horoscope

In light of my last post, I thought that it was interesting that after writing it, I read my horoscope and this is what it said:


Pisces: Sometimes, it can be very helpful to live in an illusion -- to keep yourself so distracted by daydreams and fanciful wishes that you don't have to deal with unpleasant thoughts. So if you are having troubling thoughts, it might be okay today to just pretend everything is just fine. Think good thoughts and if there are uncertain situations, just pretend that you know the outcome for certain -- and the outcome is good. Fake it until you make it, because you will make it eventually. Have hope!

Was that the light I needed turned on? Maybe.

Turn on the Light

It's not often that I get angry... very rarely do I lose my temper and let loose on people. I suppose I am a lover, not a fighter. (Although I haven't been much of a lover either). Yet, in the past four weeks, I've gotten in two arguments with my sister (the last time we fought was when I was 14), I hung up on my father, had words with my sister-in-law, and became a rather onery person. These incidences all occurred within a three day window, and after I took a three day break from speaking to anyone, I called and apologized. I very much doubt that I'll take out my frustration over all that is happening on anyone again.

This morning, I woke in a foul mood. I think my first thought was, "Yippee. Another f-ing day." I snuck downstairs without waking the kids, and started my coffee. I glanced out the window, saw that the ground was covered with snow that was covered with ice crystals, and thought, "Yippee. Another cold day without the sun." Soon after, I heard Paige's little feet coming down the stairs, and I thought, "Jeez, I just wanted one cup of coffee in the quiet morning without the kids..." I put a smile on my face and greeted her. Her eyes were bright, her smile huge and she said, "Good morning Mommy. I slept really well. How did you sleep?" She was already enfolded in my arms as she finished the sentence. I smelled the top of her head and kissed her gently.

Did it turn my mood around?

I wish that it had, but it didn't. I certainly smiled and we talked and I wasn't focused on my mood so much, but it's a mere distraction because here I am, angrily typing while they laugh and play in the background.

What it comes down to is this (and it may seem so selfish and I'm sure I'll feel guilty over it): I am pissed off at the situation - having no one to really blame, but pissed off nonetheless. 2009 was my year to get myself back in order. 2009 was my year to sort out my life - to use all the lessons about faith and hope that I gained during my two years of chaos - and get back on track. It was supposed to be an easy year. I was stepping out of the tunnel and into the bright sunlight. I even had both big toes getting heated by that sun.

You know what happened? Someone came along and built 6000 more miles of tunnel in front of me, squishing my toes in the process, and now I am just standing, trying to get my toes unstuck. I don't know which way to go right now. It is unsettling, to say the least. I totally understand why people become complacent and suffer from ennui. It's very hard to keep moving when there are possibilities of boulders, arrows and daggers pointed at you.

But go on, we must. I'll keep moving through the dark. I'd like to sit down, cross my arms over my chest in protection and carelessly wait. It's not going to happen though. Two kids, a job, a family that needs me right now... can't happen.

What is the saying? Suck it up, tough it out and do the best you can? I can't remember. Whatever. At least I know enough not to take my anger out on anyone, including myself.

I am not totally without hope, but it's playing hide and seek with me right now, and I can't seem to find the light switch.

TODAY



THREE DAYS AGO

Waitin' on a Sunny Day

Okay, I'll talk about them. I'll open up and talk about... THEM.

The feelings.

The anger.
The fear.
The pain.
The hate.
The want.
The need.
The worry.
The anguish.
The grief.

I'll talk about them. Where to start? Where to start!

I am worried about my Mom, first. My dad, second. My siblings, in this order: Jeff (obviously), Cliff, John, Chuck, Dana, Jim, Corinne, Kathy, Lisa, Lynn... I suppose the order could be turned around a bit, given the day. I worry about Jeff's best friend, Jeff Popple. I worry about me too. Not so much, I'm okay. But I worry.

That is emotion number one.

Emotion number two: frustration. Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why Jeff? Why Lynn? Why now? Why then? Why?

Am I starting to sound like Dr. Suess?

I started this blog with something as innocuous as divorce. It seems so absurd to think about that as having any meaning. It does have meaning, of course it does. But at this point into the game - it means very little. The grief and worry I feel about that hardly compares. These days it seems tolerable to know myself as a divorcee - I can swallow it down now. Yuck. Still tastes terrible, but whatever.

I'm angry too. So pissed off that this happened to someone with such a magnetic personality... Jeff is the guy that can charm a snake. He'd piss people off, but it was mostly because he has it figured out. He once visited me in Dayton while I was in law school and hung out with the smartest chick in our class. I didn't like her much and couldn't figure out why he was talking with her. (She was cute, but I cut through her personality quickly, I couldn't understand why he was into her). He talked to her for awhile and I sat down next to him to listen in on his conversation with her - figuring he must have some idea of the kind of girl she was... here's how it went: He had her in his web and he looked deeply into her eyes and said, "You have the most incredible blue eyes..." She gushed, blushed, batted her eyes and said, "thank you." And he said, "But that's about it..." and stood up and walked away. He looked over at me and winked.

That is Jeff.

I miss him. I just want to talk to him.

I know my family feels the same. I know this.

Perseverance. Perseverance. Perseverance. Perseverance. Perseverance.


It's rainin' but there ain't a cloud in the sky
Musta been a tear from your eye
Everything'll be okay
Funny thought I felt a sweet summer breeze
Musta been you sighin' so deep
Don't worry we're gonna find a way

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

Without you I'm workin' with the rain fallin' down
Half a party in a one dog town
I need you to chase the blues away
Without you I'm a drummer girl that can't keep a beat
And ice cream truck on a deserted street
I hope that you're coming to stay

I'm waitin', waitin' on a sunny day
Gonna chase the clouds away
Waitin' on a sunny day

Hard times baby, well they come to tell us all
Sure as the tickin' of the clock on the wall
Sure as the turnin' of the night into day
Your smile girl, brings the mornin' light to my eyes
Lifts away the blues when I rise
I hope that you're coming to stay Copyright - BRUUUUUUUUUUUCE!

Prepared for a Catastrophe

It's not funny. The habits you pick up from your parents.

Not.

Funny.

My refrigerator has barely enough room for a grain of rice. My freezers are full with useless things I don't even need. Pizza rolls. Frozen Yams. Frozen lasagna that I can't stomach - ever. There are frozen go-gurts, turd like popsicles, mahi-mahi steaks with coconut crust (they've been in there for 8 years), tater tots, and not two, but three whole chickens... you see what I am saying.

I am prepared for a catastrophe of some sort.

And Maryland is actually getting snow right now. Enough snow to lock me in the house for three months as we eat through the supplies? Doubtful.

Okay, back to the parents. They have freezers full of food. Freezers.

Full of Food.

As far as I know, they have no boarders. It is just the two of them. Yet, the last time I went up there (about a week and a half ago), they had more leftovers in their refrigerator than Paige, Tony and I have eaten in a week. A pork roast with mashed potatoes & sauerkraut, swiss steak (carrots, onions and gravy), sauce & meatballs, leftover subs from John & Mary's, and sirloin steak. Who ate it all? Well, I did my share of taking care of the leftovers, but my mom still cooks for a family of eight - or eighteen.

I am falling into this, this, this... habit? No, it's not a habit, it's a mental disorder of some sort, I think. What possesses me to cook for fourteen people when I have two toddlers at home and they're somewhat picky - at least not so into cabbage, brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes. I am astonished with myself and I didn't even realize that I was doing this until I opened my refrigerator to get a glass of iced tea and found that I had to empty several contents of the refrigerator to get to it.

I was never like this. I hate grocery shopping, so when did I go shopping? I don't even remember! I pulled all my receipts from the past two weeks and found that I spent over $370 on food. Huh? I don't even remember shopping. It's nuts.

If I could streamline my thoughts over the past several weeks, you'd be amazed. Hell, I'll give you an example from the last five minutes:

"Wonder if Playstation is really okay to introduce to Paige & Tony?"
"Why do they fight so much?"
"Why is Paige so mean to Tony?"
"What the f--k?" (thinking about Jeff)
"I need to cancel appointment with CPA, too much snow, kids school is probably canceled."
"When am I going to make another appointment?"
"Why am I so tired?"
"Another snack???"
"What the f--k?" (Jeff again)
"Need to finish title report tomorrow morning..."
"Shoot, school's probably canceled."
"Celebrity Apprentice? Yeah, I'll just DVR it and check it out."
"Can't believe it's snowing and school is going to be canceled."
"What the f--k? What is going to happen now? Wonder what he's thinking. Damn, I just want to talk to him."
"Wonder how Mom is."
"Why is Gracie barking again - same thing for last two hours?"
"Paige still misses Sebastian that much that she cries like her arm has been torn off?"
"Kids are tired."
"They can't be hungry again!"
"What the hell am I going to make for dinner tomorrow?"

I suppose the answer to the last question is probably the easiest. Maybe I'll just pull out one of those chickens...

It sucks being an adult. It really, truly, sincerely, honestly sucks being an adult... I've melted into the food-obsessed mold of my parents. I am prepared for the blizzard of '77 here. Yet, the alcohol is low. I suppose I'll have to stock up.

Just in case.

What the f--k?