I've said I do poorly with "goodbye." You've already heard that one from me here. Furthermore, I'm supposed to be producing an upbeat, happy blog where people can go to get away from the bad news of the day. So, I'm not going to spend much time editing this one and I'm going to warn you upfront that I feel very self-serving posting this.
With that said...
This weekend I said goodbye to one of my favorite people in the whole world, Sabra. She's not gone forever from my life, but she's now 2000 miles away. Gone are the days when I could just ring her up and meet her out for a margarita (and feel awful about the headache she'd inevitably suffer the next day). Gone are the days where she'd watch Dia and then I'd hang out for way too long afterwards. Gone are the days when she was sure to attend all of our crazy parties and make them that much happier with her presence. I can still call her and get my fix of that wonderfully contagious laugh, but I can't pretend that I won't miss her every single day.
And the weekend before, my big buddy, Logan - that awful, stinky and senile dog of mine - passed away. I suppose if there were solace to be found it was that I was right there with him. If that dog were ever graceful, it was in the way he left this world.
The night before he passed away all was normal - he came inside and had some dinner and wanted back out afterward. It was a nice night and he was happy on his blanket on the patio. He woke me up at midnight to top off his water bowl as always. The only significant difference was that he didn't wake me up again at 4:00 a.m. At 6:00 a.m. I woke on my own, realized what time it was and went to check on him. He was fine. About an hour later, though, I checked on him again and he seemed incapable of getting up. I tried to give him water, but he wouldn't drink. My neighbor, Rhonda, came out to bring him some treats as she always does in the morning and I explained he was having a hard time. We both sat with him for quite awhile talking quietly and giving him pats. Eventually his breathing became labored so I sat on the front porch petting him and feeding him ice chips. At one point Dia woke up and I brought her downstairs to sit with him too. She helped me with the ice chips and stroked his head. His breathing slowed and then stopped and he just quietly passed from this world. We bent and gave him a kiss, but my big buddy was no more.
I'm not going to review all my losses over all the years, but I do know that the cumulative loss of friends and family plays a lot in how much these subsequent losses sting. I suppose it's not so shocking to me these days so there's a dignity I can manage now as opposed to when I was more of a rookie at it, but with each loss there's some nostalgia for everyone I've lost before.
................ Ah, but before I get too swamped down in my pity mire, let me shine a light on the flip side of all of this. Sabra's going away picnic brought people together that I love. In saying goodbye to the Murphy's I said a renewed hello to other friends. Another going away party a few weeks prior introduced me to hilariously funny and kind people who I hope will soon call me "friend" too. And, at the close of this weekend, I sat down to a Thanksgiving II dinner with my silly family plus two new friends and had the best time just eating, chatting and enjoying each other.
Someday the Murphys will visit and we'll all sit around laughing, clowning and commiserating with each other just like old times; and someday a dog will come into our lives that needs our love and care and fits into our strange family. Until those times come, I'll retire my sadness and celebrate the moments we have now. After all, life is good.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Dear God
Hello, God. It’s me, Katie. Your humble servant.
… What? Oh, yeah, OK – um, about that. I will try to watch my language more. Yes, yes, that’s true. Two of my three children have uttered “JeZUS Cuh-rist” in frustration before the age of 5. Guilty. Sorry about that.
… What? Oh, right… but that was a long time ago, God. Surely we’d let bygones be bygones by now, wouldn’t we? …. What? Oh, yes there is that bit in the Lord’s Prayer about “forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” Yes, that DOES sound like a conditional thing now that you mention it.
… What? Oh, well, yes, I suppose that could be considered unforgiving of me but ….
Yes, Sir. I will try harder.
But can we get back to why I came here today? I was just going to say that I don’t ask for much, God, and I was wondering if …
... What? Oh, well, yes, I DID ask for that. Yes, that was a big one. She is wonderful and makes me very happy. Thank you so very much. Have I not thanked you for her lately? Oh, whew, good to know I did THAT right.
... What? Oh, sorry, you are right that was kind of sarcastic. You think I’m too sarcastic? Well, I don’t know that …
... What? Yes, yes, that’s true. Dia has learned how to use the word “NOT!” after her satiric remarks, but that’s not so bad, really - is it? …. Oh, yes I suppose that's true. I will try harder on that one too.
But, really, I was just going to say that I really AM ever so grateful for this life of mine. I know I’ve mentioned this before but I really love what you’ve done with the place. It’s quite amazing, this earth we live on. I have to give you a BIG virtual hug on letting me move away from Indiana. It’s pretty awful, God, you might want to put someone on that.
…What? Oh, right, I’ll let you do your job. Yes Sir, I do think you probably know what you are doing. I was just saying …
... What? Yes, I suppose that COULD be considered judgmental on my part, but I …
... What? Yes, Sir, I suppose we should save the judging for you. I will try harder, Sir.
OK, but as I was saying – I really do appreciate your work. And I have to say "thank you" a thousand times over for my family, especially the kids, God. They have been more to me than I could have ever dreamed. Also, thank you for my friends, my job, my home, my health and – well, I’m pretty sure you are a great mind-reader so you probably know everything already – but you have set me up pretty well in this life. I’m genuinely appreciative. I know how bad things can be and I don’t deal with anything much, really, in the scheme of things. That never goes unnoticed and I want you to know that I owe you big for it.
… What? Yes, you can quote me on that.
But I was wondering… is it wrong to ask for more when you have so much?
… What? Oh, of course, I understand the answer might be “no.” OK, with that in mind, here’s what I’m thinking – could you create and/or send me a man with the following: Looks like Vin Diesel or Stephen Colbert …
... What? Yes, Sir, I do understand those two have no common features. Yes, Sir, I suppose I have been told I was weird before.
ANYway – yes, so he should look like Vin Diesel or Stephen Colbert, he should have the humor of Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert or either of the two guys from The Upside Down Show; he should love my family and particularly my kids; he should have no obsessive tendencies; also he should have his own money but without being a workaholic; he should be between 44 and 49 years old and in perfect health but without extreme exercise regiments or food rules; yes – and on that – he must eat like a real person – you know, butter and real cheese and heavy cream when it calls for it; um… what else???
… What? Yes, I DO know we are already on the verge of the “No” answer but I’m on a roll.
What was it I used to say? I want a man who, when he sees I had a bad day, picks me up into his arms and strokes my hair telling me all will be just fine while he carefully moves onto the tile so that the blood from the gunshot wound he’s nursing doesn’t stain the carpet. You know, like at the end of Bruce Willis movies.
… What? No, God, I suppose that isn’t very realistic.
… What? Yes, I have considered that my expectations might be a little high.
… What? Yes, Sir, I did thank you for my job, why? Oh, right. Yes, Sir. I won’t give up my day job. Thank you for that advice. I'll get back to work now.
Amen
Friday, May 13, 2011
Rescue Me
My captives are a 5 year old human, a decrepit urine-soaked dog, a scowling cat with a tendency toward ill-timed hairballs and two parakeets with particularly finicky stomachs requiring brutally expensive seed. Together they require me to tend to their every need and whim all while earning income enough to keep them all fed, housed and comforted to their hearts' content.
I’m pretty sure the small child is the ringleader. She defends the animals with ridiculous vengeance and controls all the electronic equipment, particularly the television remote. I believe this is a part of an elaborate brainwashing scheme. For five years I’ve been exposed only to preschool shows, Disney movies and late night television.
She is also versed in sleep deprivation torture. I believe she has somehow transferred her night waking to the dog. Five short months ago she finally began sleeping through the night allowing me the same privilege, only to now have my sleep interrupted at least twice each night in order to tend to the senile canine.
Do not call the cops. I repeat: NO COPS!! They are in cahoots with my captives and further they run up exorbitant bills and leave me with the tab.
Please send reinforcements. Cash is accepted. Large bills are welcome. Please do not send gift certificates without first negotiating a furlough and a babysitter. Also useful would be a nanny along the lines of Mary Poppins, a kilo of patchouli incense and a zookeeper (preferably one that is male, single, tall, handsome and unbearably witty and if he happens to resemble Vin Diesel with a British accent, all the better).
– must dash… The ringleader seems to be growing bored with Nick Jr. and I fear for my safety if I’m caught.
Oh No! no! aaahhh - she's taking the computer over! dddddddddddddddww444xdsrrgi8uklok
(I'm sure that's code that only the dog can decipher...)
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Keep Walking. Johnnie Walker.
He had the voice of an angel. Well, more accurately, he had the voice of Lou Rawls.
I was chatting away to Tim when the strands of the song drifted by my consciousness in such perfect formation that it took a moment to register that this was not a recorded version of “You’re Gonna Miss My Lovin’.” I looked to the stage and there he stood.
I watched him sing and he noticed my attention. Afterwards he strode over and as he passed by me he said “you are gonna miss my lovin’ baby.” Corny. But this was a Karaoke club, so channeling Elvis was forgiven.
He disappeared for a moment but came back asking where the guy I was with went off to. “Oh no” I corrected “that was my son.” After a few incredulous comments and very flattering compliments toward me, we sat down and talked for awhile. He was smart and had a great sense of humor and before he left he grabbed two cocktail napkins, jotted “Johnny” and his number on one and asked me to write down my name and number on the other.
Tim asked if I gave him my number. I did.
“Did you give him your real number?” I did.
“Are you going to call him?” No.
“Is he going to call you?” Yes.
“But nothing will come of it.” I said, and explained that when I told Johnny about Dia his response was “she takes up a lot of your time, huh?” and when I replied affirmatively, he responded with a rather pregnant pause.
Still, he called the next day and kept calling almost every day thereafter. I had great conversations with him. I wasn’t feeling chemistry necessarily, partially because I couldn’t remember a single feature of his physical appearance. There wasn't a lot of light in the room when I met him and with my memory these days, I couldn’t pick him out of a crowd to save my life. Although I certainly enjoyed my chats with him, I wasn’t sure there was any sort of love connection.
There were more reasons than a mysterious appearance that contributed to my doubt that this was a good romantic match, however.
I will fully admit that I have a habit of talking in circles. I’ll begin explaining my stance, interrupt myself for a side note to ‘help’ clarify the point, drop in the moral of the story too early and end up starting over. (This is another reason email is often a better way for me to communicate.) I think I did the circular formula a bit here, so in fairness I’m not sure he heard the point correctly. The point was that dating me might be a slower process than most. I might be able to see you this week and then not again for two. I just don’t have a lot of free time, so it is best if we just start out as friends rather than pressure the relationship for something more initially.
He heard it to a certain extent, because his response was “you have to take time to make time.”
My gut reaction was to defend my situation. I thought about launching into a dissertation on how I’m a 24/7/365 single parent. There aren’t weekends at Dad’s house. She’s not ready for unaccompanied play dates over at a friends’ place. I don’t have deep pockets for babysitters … blah, blah, blah. But I stopped myself. I got as far as saying “It’s not like that in my wo…” and stopped. I realized he’s right. I could. Technically I could. I just won’t.
I’m not giving up time with Dia after being gone from her all day. Not regularly anyway. Nor am I going to ask my mom to watch her some more after watching her all day. That feels too much like getting that letter from the landlord: “Thank you for paying on time for the past year. In appreciation of being a good tenant, we are raising your rent $300/month. P.S. Have a nice day.” (Plus I happen to actually enjoy spending time with my mother.)
Anyway, there’s just too much I’m not willing to compromise and, perhaps he correctly Cliff Noted my rant down to “Johnny Walker, I’m just not that into you.”
Doesn’t matter, though, because you’ll never guess what he said next. He said “I don’t keep women friends. I have sisters. If I want women’s company on a friend level, I turn to them.”
Damn.
It was my turn for the pregnant pause and during that silence I realized that he was as entitled to his feelings and lifestyle as I was. I had to respect that. And I do. I was hurt at first, I guess for the same reason he was – that we didn’t think the other was worth any sacrifice – but I got over it after a quick chat with Mom. (See? Why would I give up time with Mom for some dude with a very poorly chosen name?)
I was chatting away to Tim when the strands of the song drifted by my consciousness in such perfect formation that it took a moment to register that this was not a recorded version of “You’re Gonna Miss My Lovin’.” I looked to the stage and there he stood.
I watched him sing and he noticed my attention. Afterwards he strode over and as he passed by me he said “you are gonna miss my lovin’ baby.” Corny. But this was a Karaoke club, so channeling Elvis was forgiven.
He disappeared for a moment but came back asking where the guy I was with went off to. “Oh no” I corrected “that was my son.” After a few incredulous comments and very flattering compliments toward me, we sat down and talked for awhile. He was smart and had a great sense of humor and before he left he grabbed two cocktail napkins, jotted “Johnny” and his number on one and asked me to write down my name and number on the other.
Tim asked if I gave him my number. I did.
“Did you give him your real number?” I did.
“Are you going to call him?” No.
“Is he going to call you?” Yes.
“But nothing will come of it.” I said, and explained that when I told Johnny about Dia his response was “she takes up a lot of your time, huh?” and when I replied affirmatively, he responded with a rather pregnant pause.
Still, he called the next day and kept calling almost every day thereafter. I had great conversations with him. I wasn’t feeling chemistry necessarily, partially because I couldn’t remember a single feature of his physical appearance. There wasn't a lot of light in the room when I met him and with my memory these days, I couldn’t pick him out of a crowd to save my life. Although I certainly enjoyed my chats with him, I wasn’t sure there was any sort of love connection.
There were more reasons than a mysterious appearance that contributed to my doubt that this was a good romantic match, however.
- I asked him how old he was. His answer? “How old do you want me to be?” I told him that was a hooker answer but he wouldn’t give. He asked me to defend my stance on why age mattered in the least and he remained staunchly coy (though denied adamantly that he was even slightly coy).
- His last name? Walker. Oh God, I thought… how can I ever date a guy named after mediocre whiskey? I could allow that there are supposed to be varietals of Johnny Walker that are quite good, but I’m gonna’ stand on this point considering the hilarity that Tim conjured up at Sunday dinner (which included his uncle Jim (Beam), his cousin Jack (Daniels) and that his family can trace its roots back to Samuel Adams…)
- He’s techno-resistant particularly when it comes to the internet. He refused to email which is my preferred mode of communication (unless you like calls at 11:00 p.m. after Dia goes to sleep). He is an English teacher (writing) so I figured maybe he’d be interested in my blog, but he became very negatively animated at my mention of it and said he hated blogs and didn’t even know how to ‘work’ them. Oh-kayyyy. Considering that so much of my world is online (including work!) I felt this was kind of a strike against him, albeit a small one.
- His first date suggestion wasn't great. He thought a Monday (after I got off work in Altadena) at his place (in Mid-Wilshire) was a genius idea. When he suggested it I was rushed to get out the door and didn’t have enough time to explain how I have 99 problems and a bitch might be one if he’s asking me to come there – through rush hour traffic – and then drive all the way home. (To those unfamiliar with L.A. the after-work drive to his place would be an hour plus and the drive home a minimum of 45 minutes.) I much preferred the idea of meeting in the middle or (better) him coming up my way. Not to mention that I did not feel comfortable with so private a locale. Besides – wouldn’t it be pleasant to have a nice dinner out or something?
I will fully admit that I have a habit of talking in circles. I’ll begin explaining my stance, interrupt myself for a side note to ‘help’ clarify the point, drop in the moral of the story too early and end up starting over. (This is another reason email is often a better way for me to communicate.) I think I did the circular formula a bit here, so in fairness I’m not sure he heard the point correctly. The point was that dating me might be a slower process than most. I might be able to see you this week and then not again for two. I just don’t have a lot of free time, so it is best if we just start out as friends rather than pressure the relationship for something more initially.
He heard it to a certain extent, because his response was “you have to take time to make time.”
My gut reaction was to defend my situation. I thought about launching into a dissertation on how I’m a 24/7/365 single parent. There aren’t weekends at Dad’s house. She’s not ready for unaccompanied play dates over at a friends’ place. I don’t have deep pockets for babysitters … blah, blah, blah. But I stopped myself. I got as far as saying “It’s not like that in my wo…” and stopped. I realized he’s right. I could. Technically I could. I just won’t.
I’m not giving up time with Dia after being gone from her all day. Not regularly anyway. Nor am I going to ask my mom to watch her some more after watching her all day. That feels too much like getting that letter from the landlord: “Thank you for paying on time for the past year. In appreciation of being a good tenant, we are raising your rent $300/month. P.S. Have a nice day.” (Plus I happen to actually enjoy spending time with my mother.)
Anyway, there’s just too much I’m not willing to compromise and, perhaps he correctly Cliff Noted my rant down to “Johnny Walker, I’m just not that into you.”
Doesn’t matter, though, because you’ll never guess what he said next. He said “I don’t keep women friends. I have sisters. If I want women’s company on a friend level, I turn to them.”
Damn.
It was my turn for the pregnant pause and during that silence I realized that he was as entitled to his feelings and lifestyle as I was. I had to respect that. And I do. I was hurt at first, I guess for the same reason he was – that we didn’t think the other was worth any sacrifice – but I got over it after a quick chat with Mom. (See? Why would I give up time with Mom for some dude with a very poorly chosen name?)
So it ended before it started. And thank God in a way, because if I jump to the Cliff Note version of what he was saying, he’s kind of chauvinistic and archaic. At least I don’t have to worry about him reading this post!
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