a story, part three

awesome husband and i were snuggled in bed, visions of venture bros. dancing in our heads.  we were both kind of drunk.  i tend to sleep shirtless to let the girls run wild and free.  also: because i hate that tight, clothesy feeling.

i know, i'm crazy.  you should know that by now too.

so awesome husband and i were spooning, a couple of cats on the bed, warm and snuggly.  i was half awake, in that state of coming in and out of wakefulness and listening to the venture bros. with half an ear.  only a few hours had passed since we convinced mom to go to the emergency room, and my brother had updated me at around 8:30 letting me know that they'd gotten through triage.  i think there was a text or two about a cat scan or xray.

we had gone to be around 11pm.  at 12:38am that sunday, november 21, my brother called me again.

four hours.  just about four hours had passed since mom went through triage.

four hours.

i know i sound repetitive.  but, seriously - four hours.

my cell rang and it was my brother.  i picked it up and he just blurts out 'mom has cancer'.  i was stunned and asked him to repeat himself.  'mom has fucking cancer' he said.  i turned on my bedside lamp and sat up.  i asked where and he said her lungs and brain.  i then asked him if i could call him back in a minute.  i hung up the phone and turned to awesome husband, who had woken up and was looking at me.

i don't remember what i said.  i just remember crying and screaming and holding awesome husband.  i do remember the warmth from our bare chests, my breasts smushed into his ribcage.  i think i remember it because under the warmth, i could feel my heart breaking.  it felt like my lungs were collapsing into themselves and a hole was being opened in my chest.

awesome husband and i clung to each other on the bed, crying, for a few moments.  i remember my hands scrabbling on his shoulders, like i literally couldn't hold on.  i remember yelling out, grabbing awesome husband like my life depended on it.

this was already the start of the grieving process for us, i'm sure of it.

i called my brother back for more details, what was happening now, how was mom, where was she, what were we doing.  he informed me that they were moving her to icu.  intensive care.

not good.

i told him i'd be there as soon as i could.  this is where planning steph gas emerged (i'm not convinced she's ever gone back to wherever she emerged from).  i was booting up my laptop before i hit 'end call'.  we were suddenly wide awake.  just about 1am i'm online and looking for flights, finding one for only $89 that day around noon.  it wouldn't let me fucking buy it.  i called one of my friends who came through with a credit card over the phone at 1am on a sunday.  i have great friends.  my dad called me around 2:30 after dropping off my brother and sisterfromanothermister once they left the hospital.  it's the strangest conversation i ever had with my dad.  he told me my mother seemed resigned when they told her she had cancer.  we figure that maybe it's shock, maybe she's just not sure how to act yet.

awesome husband and i tried to go back to sleep.  we put venture bros. on and cuddle with each other and the cats and tried to sleep. sleep eluded us for most of the morning.  we spent a lot of the early morning hours staring at each other, staring at the television, staring at the ceiling.  we finally started nodding off for a bit around 5:30am.  once 8am rolled around, we gave up trying and i started packing.  awesome husband drove me to the airport and kissed me goodbye.

i landed at jfk sunday around 3pm.  my brother and sisterfromanothermister picked me up and we went straight to the hospital.  my mom was in icu, hooked up to machines to monitor her heart rate and oxygen levels, an iv drip, and had those annoying oxygen tubes in her nose.  but she was still 'mom'.  as she saw me walk in with my brother and sisterfromanothermister, she started crying.  then she got mad at me because i'd be missing classes. 

of course, i didn't.  my facilitators were really supportive and since the hospital had wifi, i was able to keep up with all of my schoolwork while i was up in new york.

we stayed at the hospital longer than we should have, spending time with mom.  i learned that mom had a large mass in her lung and numerous lesions on her brain.  that afternoon, one of the doctors stopped by and used the term metastasized.  up until that point, we figured mom would be kept comfortable (we knew she wouldn't do the chemo thing) and we'd fight this bastard as best we could.  once that evil fucking word was uttered, i realized it would be a matter keeping mom comfortable and enjoying what time we had left together - the holidays were coming up, and we'd definitely be able to fit one more family vacation in.  no one was comfortable giving us a time frame yet - they had to biopsy the mass and determine what kind of cancer it was.

we left mom in the icu to rest and got taco bell for dinner.  we talked about what we might be able to do for mom.  we discussed who had to do what, who would call her job, how long i'd be staying.  we talked about how we were going to fight this, how mom would stay in new york because we felt she'd get better care and all of the family is up there.  how awesome husband and i would just dump the house and get to new york as soon as possible so we could all be together.

november 21st was a day my life changed forever.  what i didn't realize, what none of us realized, was that it was only going to get worse.  every day our lives change, i know this.  but that week, every day changed our lives drastically.

happy bloggiversary to me!

it appears that, unbeknownst to me, my six month bloggiversary passed recently. 

not sure why this matters, but i know the barreness celebrated hers recently too.  so i want in on that.

in other news, samantha jumped off my shoulder and missed the couch.  or missed the floor by catching her hind leg on the couch.  and now has torn ligaments around her babeh kitteh kneecap :/  she's getting anti-inflammatory medication for now, and in about two weeks if it's not healed, she might need surgery :( :( :(

what else, what else...  oh, i'm sure i'll get around to that next post in the tale of my life changing, as it were.  but i've also started my next block of classes in school, intro to psych and critical thinking.  and i received my grades from my last two classes, eng/102 and computer information - both 'A's.  which means i'm running a cool 4.0 at this point.  i'm hoping to keep it there.  i know, it seems ridiculous to strive for perfection or near-perfection, but if you don't aim for the stars, what's the point?

holy fuck, i can't believe i just wrote that.

also also, i'm on day like two? three? of a 'lifestyle change' (not diet).  when i went to the doctor for my cold, he pointed out that my blood pressure was up.  there could be numerous reasons: i was anxious being at the doctor's office.  i had been taking cough medicine.  pristiq CAN affect blood pressure.  and there is no way in HELL that i'm giving up my delicious, square, pinkish happy pill.  so, i figured i should like work out and eat better and lose some weight or what not.  and i got big girl yoga!!  dvd just came in the mail today.  i can't really get 'regular' yoga, because there's no place to put my tits during some poses.  seriously.  this dvd is yoga like modified for overweight and obese people, and i'm actually really superexcited about it.  i'm absolutely sure you'll hear all about it.

until then, keep your unit on you.

a break from our reguarly scheduled melancholy

i was getting ready to write/post part three, which will probably be the most depressing thing yet.  sorry.  but it will be. 

instead, you're getting a treat. 

if you've read my blog for any amount of time, you might be familiar with the fact that i don't want kids.  and neither does awesome husband.  since my mother's death, i think some of us (pointed look towards awesome husband) have thought maybe they'd want to change their mind.  some of us may have been feeling like they need to share some extra love.  some of us might have been feeling like they wanted something of their own to love.

so awesome husband and i were running some errands today.  he wanted to pick up s dumbbell set, i wanted to get chipotle before i start my new stupid fucking diet lifestyle tomorrow.  there's a petco near chipotle, and we needed cat food so i was like 'let's stop there and buy some fucking cat food'.

like most weekends, they had a local rescue operation set up there adopting cats out.  we always stop and look, cooing at the teensy kittens and trying to coax the untrusting adults out of the corners of cages.  we argue about getting an orange cat, or a special needs cat, or a polydactyl cat.  and we walk away to complete our shopping. 

like most weekends, we stopped and looked at the beautiful long haired siblings who were white with black splotches and white with grey splotches.  we poked at the little long haired tabby who was hiding under her mat.  we called to the teenaged orange cat who steadfastly ignored us.

then awesome husband got to the last cage.  he called me over.  there were two tiny tabbys in this cage, one with lighter tan markings and one that almost looked like he was wearing a mask. we looked at them.  we spoke to the foster mom.  awesome husband wanted to hold one.  i liked the lighter colored one, but awesome husband pointed to the one with the mask-like markings.  they put him in my arms and he melted onto my chest.

oh.

then i handed the kitten to awesome husband.  now, he has always loved animals but never had cats growing up.  i tried to turn him into a cat person with my kittehs.  he always said he didn't want another cat, three was enough, hell TWO was enough for him.  but as i handed this kitten to awesome husband, and he looked down at this cat, well...

suddenly, he thought three cats was NOT enough.

our new tiny babeh kitteh



that's awesome husband's hand on the kitteh.  he weighs like four pounds.


i think i may have finally turned him into a cat person.

a story, part two

for a couple of weeks before leaving for new york, mom had been having a bit of a problem with her vision. she said it was like a small smudge on her eye, this one blurry greyish spot. but she could move her head or tilt it and see around it, those were her words. "i can see around it". she said she'd go to the eye doctor in new york, it was probably just stress.

mom was getting what appeared to be panic attacks. she was really nervous about starting the new job sometimes. she'd get a bit out of breath and get this spot of pain in her back. i'd help her calm down, we'd breathe together (since i'm practically the queen of panic attacks) and it would pass. she even said she could tell when she was getting upset - that spot in her upper back would start to hurt. it was probably just stress.

now we know better. it was cancer, cancer everywhere. in her lung, causing the pain in her back and shortness of breath. in her brain, causing the vision spot that would eventually result in a total loss of vision - less than a month after we had this conversation.

a fucking month.

mom's new job in new york started november 15th, so we booked her ticket the 13th. on the 12th a couple of friends came by to say goodbye and wish her luck. she went to bed early and we dropped her off at the airport. i spent the day with a good friend and then at epcot, hoarding all the bunratty meade that was left at the food & wine festival.

mom started her job on the 15th. everyone seemed nice. i spoke to her monday and tuesday. she hated the bus - hated taking it. hated the walk. we discussed alternatives. she was tired though - we had short conversations. on the 17th she went to the eye doctor - like we had discussed. my brother and sisterfromanothermister took her. the eye doctor kept her there forever, finally telling her to get an mri asap. mom was hysterical. we tried to be calm and to keep her calm. i talked to her on the 18th and mom seemed better. there wasn't anything that we could do now - just have to suck it up and get the mri. she was worried because she didn't have insurance, wanted to wait 22 more days for it to kick in. we wouldn't let her. i didn't talk to her on the 19th, that friday.

i got in touch with her saturday the 20th. she didn't pick up her phone, didn't call me back. finally i got an email from her saying 'call me now'. so i did.

mom was hysterical. she had fallen getting off the bus friday night. she couldn't see to dial the phone. she was afraid to cross the street because she couldn't see the cars. the difference from 7pm thursday night to 4pm saturday afternoon was terrifying. i consulted with my brother and awesome husband.  i asked mom what she wanted to do.  she said she wouldn't make a decision - she'd do whatever we told her to.  i think she was scared:  56, re-entering the job market, sleeping on  your ex-husband's couch, taking the bus to work - starting over.  and now this? 

"what do you want me to do?" mom kept asking me.  she was scared: mom didn't have insurance yet.  how would we pay for it?  "it's not like they make you write a check on your way out of the ER, mom" i told her.  "we'll do what we have to do - we would rather lose the house and have you". 

we tried to call my dad, who was out on official revbobdad business.  sisterfromanothermister got wind of what was going on through text and was immediately granted an early release from work.  she and my brother ended up getting to my dad's the same time dad did, and they all trooped off to the emergency room together.  by the time they got on the way, it was after 7:30pm.  awesome husband and i tucked into some drinks and got on youtube to watch funny videos.  nothing to do but wait it out, right?  we figured worst case scenario, we had caught a stroke in time.  awesome husband's mother had a minor stroke and had similar vision issues right before it happened.  best case scenario, mom was super stressed out and it was manifesting physically.  either way - we'd know.  mom would know.  she'd know what it was and how to take care of it and that alone would help her feel better.

around 8:30 i got an update from my brother: they had gone through triage, he went in with mom.  he asked if i knew she had been spotting - i had, and was glad she mentioned it to the triage nurse.  mom had gone through menopause like 7 years before (and i hope to whatever gods are out there that i have as easy of a time as she did with menopause) so the spotting thing was kind of strange.  we joked about it before she left - "your uterus is probably just flushing the dust out" i told her.  she agreed. 

but her vitals were fine.  everything was fine... except she couldn't fucking see enough to type or use the phone or walk across the street.  i told my brother to keep me informed and let me know.

i think i got a text somewhere about an xray?  cat scan?  something like that.  i was unperturbed - that's par for the course if mom's having trouble seeing.  we had a few more drinks, and around 11:00 we went to bed.  i put on venture brothers season 4.  there's nothing on television late night saturday.  adult swim goes all japanime.

it hasn't left the dvd player in my bedroom since.

less than two hours later, my life was about to change forever.  i had no idea, punching awesome husband in the arm and telling him to roll the fuck over and stop snoring.  fast forwarding through the first episode on venture bros. season 4 because i always stayed up for that one and fell asleep during the second.  it's like every moment of that night ended up being etched into my memory.  i mean, youtube.  that fucking bed intruder song?  the guys who did that have a whole load of songs like that.  we watched most of them.  and got sucked into the youtube vortex where you keep clicking and clicking and drinking and drinking.  i was dirnking pineapple smirnoff ice.  sounds horrible, i know, but it's like candy, i can't help it.  like crack candy. 

this was probably the last night i was 'steph gas'.  i am, by nature, a planner.  but all i do now is plan, make lists in my head, look at the sorted piles of mom-related things.  it's like i have this picture:  here you are, fat and happy, drinking horrible drinks and laughing at youtube vidoes with awesome husband.  here you are, enjoying a stupid, simple moment of your life, snuggling with awesome husband on the couch singing along to the fucking bed intruder song.  here you are, visions of moving to new york dancing in your head.  already started holiday shopping.  going to wake up a bit earlier than normal tomorrow to go see harry potter 7a.  thinking about going to olive garden afterwards for their soup and salad lunch. 

here you are, living your life the way you've been living it.  trying to go according to a loose plan.  drinking on a saturday night, getting ready for the holidays - the last ones you'll spend in florida - and planning your move back to new york.

here you are, you are here.

until the fucking map gets torn out of your hand.

...to be continued.

a story, part one

i know what parents must feel like when their kids leave home to be 'adults'. i know, it sounds silly. my high school guidance counselor always did say mom and i had this role reversal thing going on. but after my step dad died in 2003, my mom tried hard to maintain. she woke up, she went to work, she ate pepperoni and peanuts for dinner.

yes.

so we started going over every night after work, awesome husband and i, to cook dinner. mom wasn't ready to leave the comfort of her bedroom. i would lie on my step dad's side of the bed next to mom, watching wheel of fortune and smoking cigarettes. awesome husband would sit in a chair next to the bed while i made dinner. mom and i ate on the bed, he ate on his lap in that chair.

mind you, we had an entire house. there were a table and chairs downstairs. we ate dinner in her bedroom.

mom went to california to visit her sister and awesome husband and i moved in. we switched all the rooms around, surprised her when she came home. for mother's day, we bought a new fridge because i needed more freezer room. and the fridge in the kitchen was from like 1972. we were all together on the upper level of the house: awesome husband and i, my brother, my mom, our bedrooms all lined up like a proper family. we took care of each other.

we took care of my mom.

six months after we moved in, awesome husband and i finally got married. my father and mother walked in together. a good time was had by all (i'd like to think). i invited dad over for dinners, he'd invite mom out with us when we went out. we were a not a 'normal' or 'proper' family by any fucking stretch of the imagination.

but we were a family.

after a couple of car accidents that rendered me unable to work outside of the home, my mother losing her job, everything just changing - we picked up and moved to florida. our family was broken again, but it was our doing this time - we were growing up, becoming 'adults'. learning to live on our own. my brother and dad in new york, mom, me, and awesome husband in florida.  my mom decided to sell her house in new york. my brother went off to grow up and become a brooklyn hipster who listens to better music than you - no, don't bother telling us what your new favorite pocket band is. he. listens. to. better. music. than. you. - and stop eating meat.

mom moved to florida so we could continue on our communal living adventure, we bought a house with a pool and a two car garage....

... and then mom decided to unfurl her wings and fly to california.

and it was one of the hardest years of my life. i mean, we had fun without mom. playing poker, drinking, naked pool parties, jello shots... good times, good memories. but i was just escaping. i started working from home for extra money. i thought about using again and was afraid when i was prescribed painkillers for a really bad bladder infection. i thought about not drinking anymore. i thought about killing myself. i thought about my mom. i thought about how after years of not having her because of my step father, after having him take her away from me, i finally had her back and i needed her. i remember just the thought - the stray, errant thought - of my mom dying would send me into a spiral of fear and shaking and terror. literal terror. i could not even contemplate the thought of life without my mom. surely, i would just kill myself because i couldn't live without her. i tried to be 'grown up' and not let her know how bad it was. that i slept 14 hours a day. that i didn't shower most days unless awesome husband made me. that i cried for her. i was 27 years old and crying for my mother.

through an odd string of events, my mom ended up coming home. we had her room ready for her, painted the color she picked out ("i don't remember it being so pink" she said). of course, she reorganized it immediately. she lamented the fact that she'd never been on a cruise before and booked one for us - just my mom and i. we scattered my step father's ashes off the ship on the way home from the bahamas. it was the only time my mother and i were totally alone for an extended period of time, and i loved it. we settled back into our communal living. mom worked from home with me. we went to new york for holidays and visits.

my mom and brother didn't talk on the phone too much. they both told me separately that talking just reminded them how much they missed each other. they missed each other terribly. i missed my brother terribly. he's my best friend. i know, it sounds strange. but he is absolutely my best friend. he always has been and always will be. i missed my ridiculous, diabetic dad and wanted to take care of him. awesome husband's parents (and grandmother, who's 90) weren't getting any younger. we had to keep flying up for graduations, holidays...

my mom didn't love working from home, but the job market in central florida is super lame. we started talking about returning to new york. we worked out some numbers. we looked at some options. we decided to move back to new york. and mom decided to look for a 'real' job first, then we'd sell the house and follow her up. she'd stay with my dad (24 years after their divorce, they were great friends) for a few weeks and then her and my brother would get a place together month to month. once awesome husband and i sold the house, we'd move up and get a house together. the way it is supposed to be.

the way it was supposed to be.

my mom went up to new york for a couple of interviews and was offered a job right up her alley: travel insurance. she spent 30+ years working in the health insurance industry and her most recent jobs had been in the travel/hospitality industry. i helped her choose appropriate clothes and shoes to pack. she took the two biggest suitcases we had. i helped her pack up her laptop and ipod shuffle. printed out all the bus schedules she'd need to get to and from work. told her how to sucker dad into dropping her off in the morning so she only had to get the bus home. we discussed options, outfits, the future, everything. she was nervous and excited. i was mostly excited - a new chapter for us all.
 
 
...to be continued

little things

i don't know how to grieve.

back it up, though.  my first funeral was two months before my sixth birthday.  i was five years old.  i was in kindergarten.  i DO know what it's like to grieve as a child. 

everyone throws around the phrase 'loss of innocence'.  i hate that phrase.  i think it's so stupid, so trite.  that somehow a child, an innocent, loses their innocence when something bad or 'grown up' happens to them.  as adults, are we not still innocent to some ways of the world, of people?  innocent to others, to ourselves?

a funeral is a decidedly 'grown up' thing.  being interrupted while playing with your matchbox cars on the dining room floor, having your mom and dad tell you that your favorite uncle is up in heaven now with god - the simplest explanation, stupid and trite itself.  the whole scene screams out 'childish' as opposed to 'grown up'. 

is this where i 'lost' my innocence? 

when i was four years old, dragging a chair from the dining room table across the dining room, across the living room, to the front door so i could undo the chain lock my mother installed.  four in the morning, five in the morning, six in the morning . dragging the chair over to let my dad in, haggard and unwashed, probably not even hung over but still drunk.  i'd watch him shave, tie his shoes.  (he still puts on his shoes the same way, it makes me feel like a child watching him put his shoes on)  dad would grab me in a hug, give me a smacking kiss, and be out that same door on his way to work while my mom was still in bed.

is this where my 'innocence' went?

my father started breaking promises to me early in life.  we went to california for christmas without him.  my friends had dads that went on vacation with them.  some of my friends didn't have dads in the picture at all.  at five years old, i thought every family was different and this is how mine was - me, my mom, my brother, and my dad.  other kid's dads didn't take them to aa meetings at the church and then to the fair across the parking lot. other kid's dads didn't sneak them into the bathroom to shave off their beard and shave the trimmings to surprise mom while she was outside tending to the rosebush.  other kid's dads were home every night for dinner, never missed a fraggle rock, didn't come home in the wee hours of the morning smelling like that delicious mix of scotch and cigarettes.

was i ever 'innocent'?  not in the way that people speak of 'losing their innocence', i don't think.  but i grieved as a child.  i fought through the stages of grief rather quickly:

• uncle tom isn't dead, i just saw him three days ago at grandma's house. 
• what do you mean?  you guys are stupid!  i'm going to throw my matchbox cars at you!
• take me to grandma's house, i'll show you that uncle tom is still there.
• sadness for days, a sadness that i couldn't describe at five.
• acceptance: going to the funeral, throwing a red carnation down to the casket in the ground.

generally, people go through the stages over a long period of time.  i don't remember struggling with it like that.  was it my youthful resilience?  was it my parent's openness and willingness to explain? 

i don't know.  but i do know that death has never meant to me what it means to others.  when you don't want grandma or uncle tom or your dog nibbler to die, it's selfish.  you want to keep them around for you.  you never think that they might be better off dead.

sounds horrible, right?  and i don't just mean a horrible john cusack movie (because, hello, it wasn't horrible).  this all made sense to me while watching my grandfather die.  he was so sick for so long, battling on.  i saw him cry, asking for more morphine.  i watched grandpa discuss things with my dad and uncle like he knew he was dying.  my mom told me that grandpa discussed it with her while she was visiting him alone.  i remember grandpa telling me about the purple carrots that were dancing across the wall, some quite menacingly, and he explained to me that it was the drugs, the morphine, the chemicals that they were pumping into his body to keep him comfortable while dying.

and i remember asking, praying, hoping that he would just die.  as much as i loved him and wanted to hear him tell me another stupid story for the hundredth time, as much as i wanted to get another computer-generated birthday card that he made himself (crafted by the great ernesto, it would say on the back), i wanted him to be GRANDPA again.  he would never be grandpa again.

i was angry when he died.  i was angry because the hospital called us to get there soon, it didn't look good.  i was living with my dad at the time, and he had to take a fucking shower before we could leave.  my grandpa passed away while dad was washing his hair.  i was thrilled that grandpa's fight was over, that he wasn't going to be sad or angry or in pain anymore. 

i didn't need to grieve.

flash forward ten and a half years.  what the fuck am i supposed to do now?  my mother didn't suffer.  she wasn't languishing in a hospital room with emphysema and morphine drips for months before she died.  we were at fucking disney in october - three fucking months ago.  three months ago i was at disney with my mom.  three fucking months ago, my brother and sisterfromanothermister and awesome husband and my mom were at harry potterville.  we went to breakfast at chef mickeys.  two months ago my mom went to new york for a job interview - a job that she ended up getting.  two months ago we were discussing putting the house up for sale, finally moving back to new york to be with everyone.  mom would only have to live with my dad for a couple of months, then her and my brother would get a place.  we'd sell the house down here and meet up this spring and we'd all be together like a family again. 

fifty four days ago, my world changed forever.  fuck, it sounds so horrible.  so useless.  our world changes forever every fucking day.  we make ridiculous choices that change everything all the time.  damn it.  i hate fucking saying things like that.  i hate it.  i hate it.

fifty four days ago, everything changed.  isn't it funny how i count the day we found out about the cancer and not the day she died?  did i grieve then?  had we already given up, or were we resigned for the outcome?  fifty four days.  i guess that's where this part of the journey starts.  it's like there was life, then life with mom's cancer, and then life after mom.

fifty four days ago.  how long will it take me to share the stories?  how important are they?  what do i need to do to care?

why should i care.

i am no longer innocent.

missing

i went to the doctor today.  i've been sick for eleven days.  and my medication won't be ready at the pharmacy until tomorrow.

sometimes i feel like many illnesses have a psychosomatic element to them.  i usually start feeling better as soon as i know what's wrong and i have medication for it.

when i got home from the doctor today, i felt worse.  my temperature was 96.4 degrees.  i am still coughing at least as much - if not more - than i was earlier today.  and when awesome husband came home and looked at me, he told me i looked really sick.

thanks.

but seriously,  this has probably been one of the worst weeks since my life changed forever.  i mean, our lives change forever every day, with every decision we make. 

but november 21st will always be a date i remember now.  it was barely november 21st.  it was 12:38am when my cell phone rang.

i don't know if it is because of my cold, or my craziness, or my lack of eating tarzipan.  i don't know if it is because of the holiday season being over, or knowing a friend is moving far away to make a new life for herself, or i'm really really really superhomesick.  and no, florida is not my home.  i don't know if it is because i gained twenty pounds back, or i don't want to cook anymore, or i'm sick of taylor peeing on things.

i really miss my mom.

she had already been in new york for a week when it all happened.  sometimes i want to pick up the phone and call her in new york, let her know what's going on.  more often that i care to admit.

when we were in new york for the holidays, i wanted to pick up the phone and call her in florida, see how the cats were doing and make sure she was eating more than cheezey poofs and pepperoni for dinner.

and i look at the pile of paperwork on my sewing table, sorted into stacks:  things to take care of, things taken care of, notes to write, thank you cards to send, death certificates to send in. 

and i look towards her room: my favorite sweater of hers on the desk, a box of paperwork on the bed, her opal ring on the dresser, piglet curled up on her pillow.

and i look at the bar where i used to keep my laptop when i wasn't using it, and instead i see a beautiful rock salt urn, rich pink shot through with dark mauve and off white.



i have to keep reminding myself not to buy ginger ale because there's no one at home to drink it.

i really miss my mom today.

i gots me another award.

i'm totes popular, yo.  another blog award?? yay!  from nicki over at the loaded handbag.  it's an award about stylin'. 

stylin' and profilin'

obvs i deserve it.  not sure why.  i'm not terrifically stylish.  i like to think i have my own ridiculous style.  like, i just ordered some really neat like knitted tights.  they're like flowers and stuff.  and i ordered a litle denim skirt to wear with them.  and a new belt. 

i told awesome husband i was going to start dressing like a hipster.  he said he'd leave me.

anyway.  i should probably pass this blog award on.  i want to give it to the barreness, but i know nicki already got her.  i'd like to give it to becky at steam me up kid because pickles and worm porn are ALWAYS stylish.  and i suppose lastly i want to give it up to god.  because, you know, without god, none of us would be here.

but truthishly, life has been full of the suck recently.  i have pills, which are nice.  but i've had the flu for like a week and a half and i'm afraid to eat tarzipan with cold medicine.  and i wake up during the night even with nyquil.  and my nose is all ouchy and raw from all the nose blowing.  and i kind of want to take my nose rings out for a while, but if i sleep with them out they holes might start closing up and that's just another issue.  and i want to move back to new york NOW so if you know anyone who wants to buy a house eight miles from animal kindgom let me know.  i mean, seriously.  14.4 miles as the crow flies between my house and cinderella's castle.

seriously, expect more dark and sad and annoying and boring posts soon.  i keep thinking that i want to blog about politics.  or the westboro baptist church.  or my cats.  or my new computer.  or my mom dying.  but in reality, i'm kind of hitting a wall with the blogging.  it's like i was out of it for so long (really only a few weeks) while my mom was sick and shit, and with all the traveling i've been doing.

i'll get back, i promish.  until then, why don't you all give me a topic to blog about.  maybe i'll pick like, i don't know, five and set up a poll or something and let you all vote on which one i'll blog about and the person who gives me the winning idea will get a prize?  sound interesting?

yes.  so seriously - give me ideas for blog posts.  whatever you want.  i'll figure out the specifics of the poll and contest, but leave your entry idea in the comment section and we'll get on with it.

another one?

i was about to start writing a new blog.  i gots me another award, yo.  from semi true torystellar over at can u relate?.

but then i got distracted by itunes.  i'm streaming krock 2.  if you ever lived in the new york area, you'll remember how great krock was.  until it turned into z100.  well, krock 2 online is like krock used to be, minus some of the nirvana and add some emo.  fun.

however, i got horribly distracted by 'doll parts' by hole. 

it's over now, so i can continue with my life.  my new awared from torystellar is the irresistibly sweet blog award.  i think she might have consumed copious amounts of vodka before bestowing it on me, because i am not 'irresistibly sweet'.  but i never look a blog-awarding horse in the mouth.

i'm supposed to list five guilty pleasures and pass it on to three more.  i'll pass it on first.  i shall bestow this honorable blog award to...

-stephc over at seriously??... reeeally?..... seriously? because i love her canadian ways.
-nicki at the loaded handbag because i love her photos.  even though i can't believe she'd come to florida without visiting the mouse.
-kristine who does wait in the van because she's crazy.  and sweet.  and did i mention crazy?

now.  five guilty pleasures. 

this is hard.  because i don't really have 'guilty' anything.  no remorse, no regret. and the things i do feel guilty about aren't pleasurable.

but i guess i can try.. let's see... what might i be embarrased for you all to know... er....


um....



hmmmmmmm.....

well.  i like kesha. oh, i mean ke$ha.  i like lots of pop music.  i also like gangsta rap, yo.

i love twilight.  yes, the stupid vampire books.  i really like them.  like, i own them all and have seen all the movies.  and i guess it's a bit embarrassing.  but not really.  maybe a bit.

margaritas from chili's.  i know they're not the best, but i love the presidente margaritas at chili's.  i can drink them until i fall off the stool.  and i have before.  i think.

christmas music. hell, i don't even celebrate christmas as anything more than a traditional american familial holiday.  but i love christmas music.

tootsie rolls.  the teensy ones.  i'll include them as a guilty pleasure because i can't eat less than like fourteen at a time.  which defeats the purpose of tiny like 10 calorie tootsie roll snack time.

there you have it, folks.  i'd keep writing, but i have like the flu or something and feel like absolute shite.  so have fun and until then, keep your unit on you.