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Friday, November 21, 2014

shmeif

today marks a year that my dad has been gone.  a year when memories have flooded,
'missing' has become a very active verb and sometimes a deluge of incapacitating grief.  i feel marked in a new way in life, an inability to look around death as a giant easterisland monolith in the road makes for slower traveling, i think.  there it is, the huge rocky mystery in the road, again.
pef.
today is also a friday. the relief i was expecting, naively, is not there.  i suppose i thought that the 'year of firsts' ending would be some relief, but the truth is that there will be so many thousands of 'firsts' that i can't share with my dad, and that still is a fucking humdinger to my heart.
my closed-up walnut heart. 
someone tried to pry it open these past weeks and it slammed so hard shut that i have been reeling this week.. it is hard to be so closed, when the world is full of tiny little beauties.  and it is, and if i could find my camera, i would show you.  i suspect the kids have taken it to record tv shows again. ( a stunningly redundant use of a camera, yes?)

i will leave you here, now...

love to you.

wmx

Monday, November 10, 2014

long walk, short pier.

summer, things i think... long walk, short pier... in the summer, like a dream.
just read a 'noir' detective novel from 1957.  it rocked.  made me want to finger someone for the snatch. ( and... will probably never type that again, right? times, they have a-changed. fuuulll stop.) but it rocked, nonetheless.
tonight is taco night. the bliss of tortillas warmed and tacos crunchy.  hallelujah for Mexico!  why the hell are we building a wall to keep people out? we should have folks sitting at tables to sign up for the tax role as they enter. make 'em all bonified!  we'd (we?) make millions!
why the hell not simplify that whole deal.  want to be legal? AWESOME.  welcome.

welcome.

i'm thinking the short and sweet might be the way to go for me.  the littlest turns 2 this wednesday and its the anniversary of my dad's trauma and death and i'm sortof 'back in shock' if one can do that, a year later. i'm almost literally walking in circles.
pah.
pah.

pah.

Friday, November 7, 2014

PUNCH love

1.My first grader punched his friend in the gut yesterday because he kept saying 'dude'.  I get it, I'm appalled by it, and I have no distinct reaction in my repertoire, except to yell a bit about what 'deserves' punches and what doesn't .  banner. bender.  he loses games all weekend and we'll wait and see if those parents ever invite him over for a playdate. and THAT may be the consequence he feels.

2. Hubs and I are having a break from our much bealeagured 'maritalstress', realizing that the other is still 'in there somewhere', and have been getting along pretty well. It is hit or miss but right now its a hit...  It must be what the 'other' people have in their marriages.  cool.  i can see why people do it.

3.  My fourth grader boy tried to make himself throw up rather than go to school last week.
more yelling in response and then some panicky visions of teenage bulimia and so on and so forth.  then i remembered ferris bueller's fake temp and tech-licious lying to his parents and so on and so forth.  felt mildly better. kid went to school.  teacher says no big thing is going on for him there. meh.

4. I'm going to a potluck dinner tonight with my kids. I'm nervous because I'm overly judgemental and scornful even of one of the participants and I don't want to be rolling my eyes at everything he says.  I want to be better than that.  He tends towards platitudes and 'quips' and I want to throttle him.  (keep your fingers crossed for me.)
plus, all three kids in a room with a smart, intelligent woman who has no idea what she is getting into. none. (keep your fingers crossed for her.)

5. thats all i got, but its friday and i wanted to finish with a bang! :)

Monday, November 3, 2014

whoopshot

I'm in the midst of cleaning the house.  Between my emotional and physical absences lately, and Halloween and a whole lot of children and life and all, there is not a surface to be seen.  I've 'addressed' the dressupbox which hasn't fully closed for months.  I have turned the sideboard into an art supply center, mostly to keep my husband from putting a fish tank on it.  I can't handle the fishtank, honestly, i just can't. fish? no. can hardly handle the idea that we'll welcome a turtle into our family any day now. (not a euphemism, i mean an actual turtle. actual turtle. ) human people are so damn weird.  why do we want to 'capture' everything? fish? turtles?  they have a place in the world already, and its really not meant to be the place where I am, pretty sure.
so anyhow, the cleaning is at that stage where everything looks way more fucked up than when I started, and here i am breaking to type to you. to here. whathaveyou.  ( i realized this morning that it is fully november and it didn't even cross my mind to try nonoblopo this year, not even a little bit.) and since i only wrote maybe twice last month, i'm going to do my best to double that one this month.  and then maybe a double again next month.  i've got to get back on the train, so to speak. to mix my metaphors shamelessly, i've got a long strange road ahead and behind, and i've got to keep on truckin' .
on the road less traveled.
with rings on my fingers and bells on my toes. 

(man, anything, ANYTHING to avoid the disaster the house has become.)

love to you.

wmx.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Quilting in Pajamas



My mom and sister and I took a long seven hour drive to go up to Rangely, Maine this past weekend.  (and no one was gravely insulted or snidely put down, not even once!) I was booked into an Inn, they were booked into an Inn, and we all had views of the Lake.  It was GORGEOUS, and it rained for all but one day.... Our Inns were not the same, I was in a lockdown situation, a grim and desparate attempt to start and finish an entire quilt within the allotted time.  I was in over my head, but sitting with a dozen or so women who were floating in pontoons of quilting experience, so they were coaching and encouraging the entire time.



that tone is too ridiculous to continue. 
I was a sewing dervish.  Had my own room, no tv, didn't carry my phone, was fed, didn't have to clean up anything, was poured coffee and brought snacks as I worked, or within 10 feet of my work. One morning I woke up early and decided to just 'go on up' at 6:30, to find that there was hot coffee and four other women ahead of me, quilting in pajamas. 
The women I was sitting with were sisters, all 3 of them quilters with experience and I was mildly in love with them. There was laughter all weekend...
It was the perfect situation for me with my hearing... all the social awkwardness was taken away because i was just as focused as anybody else - on a whirring machine which precludes conversation.
I thought about my grandmother all weekend, I was using her fabrics, sitting in her State, doing her thing.  I spent some time thinking and dodging thinking about my dad, her son, too... it will be nice when I can do that without feeling like drowning.  In thinking of her, there is an innate remembrance of him, and it is comforting to do it this way. My grandmother was a strong intellect, a steady physical presence and goodness in the world.  Her skill sets and ability to keep herself busy are legend to me. It is good to remember a model like that.  She had a bum husband for a long time, though she loved him. And when she was in her sixties, she began to quilt.  All her children and grandchildren got quilts, and many of her great-grandchildren. (17-30 quilts.. seriously. and thats just the offspring.)
I missed my kids and hubsJ fleetingly, but not painfully, because I was so fixated.... I missed my husband tenderly while having a large male masseuse rub my hands during a chair massage on Saturday.  Even typing it feels sortof soft porn-like.  pbbst.  My hubsj does have many good points, and his sheer physicality is one of them.  I didn't even go to my room after meals, just 'back to the grind'.... lovely.  i read a little bit of an Audrey Hepburn autobiography, which I have been wanting to do FOREVER.  and it was crap. but i did learn what i was looking to learn. so there.

In the last hour of the drive home, my mother and I talked about our grief processes.  I worry so much, now that a year without my dad is finishing up, about her deep loneliness for him. . . and her frailty and anxieties seem to be growing... and I have my own worries for myself and this life i have had for such a long time.  and what is so difficult for me, in a way, is the realization - or i don't even know if 'realization' is right... the recognition that the only way through is to keep plodding on.  while i may feel like lying down in the middle of the driveway after putting the kids on the bus, and it would be fine if i did that... eventually, i have to get myself up... i do.  nobody is coming to rescue, or even to give a hand up.  ( maybe if i were literally there still when the bus got back, i imagine the kids or the busdriver might give me a hand up, but i don't think i'll wait to experience that particular thing..) I find it is something that I have to re-learn time and time again, and maybe it is so strong right now because I've lost my faith, and my father all in one, and the startle of it is what makes it so 'truthy' . 
I'm heavy with the plodding these days, and I am looking for more.  MOOORE.   MOWER. 

Maybe i'm looking for a landscaper? pbt.