I Want Wednesday

I want to be fully awake! I haven't felt completely in the moment since the night I went to see BROOOOCE, weeks ago. And even then, it was only during the concert itself.

Ever since my mom got sick over Labor Day weekend, I have been exhausted. I thought it was because I'm sleeping well, but I don't think that's it. I think maybe it's grief and stress.

I want to move along, move forward. But it hasn't even been a full month. My mind, heart and body have to do what they have to do to feel and process my mother's illness and death. I can pray and I can contemplate, but I can't speed it up. As my best friend keeps reminding me, I must take care of myself.

Me and my shadow

Some people cast enormous shadows across our lives. My uncle was one of them.

Today would have been his birthday. It's the second one since he died in November 2010, and the hardest so far.

Partly because he was my mom's baby brother and I just lost her. Partly because he had been so sick for so long (Parkinson's Disease) that his death was, in some ways, a welcome relief from his suffering.

But now that time has gone by and I have recovered from the reality of his passing, I'm left with his long, wide shadow.

I miss the terrible puns, told with such joy. And his athleticism -- before disease overtook him, he was good at every sport he tried, from swimming to running to skiing. And his smarts -- by and large we are not a family of deep thinkers but he had both intuition and brains (if not wisdom). And his curiosity -- he was self taught but expert on everything from numismatics to tropical fish.

When I was a little girl, I thought he brought magic with him every time he came to visit. I miss the magic most of all.

Hillary was right

As I post this, I'm watching Bill Clinton on The Daily Show and, as always, the Big Dog has me enthralled.  I'm paying attention to his hands and they are very expressive. I'm reminded of what The Missus wrote in her memoir, Living History:

One of the first thing I noticed about Bill Clinton was the shape of this hands. The joints are thin and elegant, the fingers long and refined, just like a pianist's or a surgeon's. When we met at law school, I liked to watch him turn the pages. Now his hands bear the marks of years; he shook hands with thousands of people, played golf and made kilometers of signatures.

Like working in a garden

I went into the office today for the first time since my mom died. Everyone knows I like flowers on my desk, and I was shocked and surprised to find two (TWO!) floral arrangements. One from "the team" and the other from, of all people, my least-favorite coworker, The Chocolate-Covered Spider! I was really touched. It occurred to me that we have only clashed twice this year. Maybe her thoughtful gesture is a wake up call for me, very Yom Kippur.

My golden pothos really thrived in my 1.5 week absence, too. My mother loved her backyard, so I like to think that I'm working in a garden.

Image: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sad observation

Cancer Lady is smoking again!

I don't know her, actually. She's just often on my el in the morning. One of those commuters who stopped to light up as soon as she got off the train, even though the ride was less than 30 minutes. I noticed her absence for a few weeks or months, then she reappeared wearing scarves. She no longer smoked. When she abandoned the scarves, I noticed her once black hair was very, very short and tinged with gray. Her totebag bears a pink ribbon design.

Today she stopped again to light up. I wanted to slap her upside the head and yell, "What are you doing?" But I don't know her. I know nothing about her.

Still, it made me sad.

"We've missed you"

So began the email I received this morning from my health club. Well, I miss them, too.

Over the summer I suffered so through the heat that those months had a sense of unreality to them. I intended to start again anew after Labor Day, but then my mom got sick and died. So here it is, September 24, and yet it feels like August 54th.

I want to go back. I want to work out at least three times this week. You know, I swam laps  when I was staying in a Best Western in Madison, visiting my mom in the hospital. I remember how good that physical exertion felt. I think I'll sleep better and feel more alert if I can get back into working out.

I must remember this

I like Yom Kippur. Atonement and repentance. As a Christian, I know I don't observe it the way my Jewish friends do (for example, I prayed about it this morning for less than an hour instead of a formal observation beginning Tuesday night). But while I regularly ask God to "forgive me my trespasses," it's important to recognize my shortcomings, own them, and forgive myself, too. Just as I must use my power of love and forgiveness to let others off the hook. (This doesn't mean letting them back in my life, it means letting go of the anger and blame.) This prayer also has an even greater impact as I consider my family in my new, post-Mom world.

I'm posting the Litany of Atonement so I can revisit it.

For remaining silent when a single voice would have made a difference, we forgive ourselves and each other other; we begin again in love.

 

For each time that our fears have made us rigid and inaccessible, we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.
 
For each time that we have struck out in anger without just cause, we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For each time that our greed has blinded us to the needs of others, we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For the selfishness which sets us apart and alone, we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

For those and for so many acts both evident and subtle which have fueled the illusion of separateness, we forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love.

Ambien and Xanax

I'm doing OK. I return to work tomorrow for the first time in a week and a half (3 days with the flu, 5 days of bereavement). I think it's time. I have to stop thinking about what my mother left us legally/financially and start facing forward again.

But mornings are the worst. If I sleep through the night -- which I'm doing thanks to the sleep meds -- then I wake up with my heart beating out of my chest because it's all still true. My mom is still dead. I still have to get through the estate stuff. So I take a Xanax.

It's not like my life was that hot before all this happened. I don't know what the future holds for me at work. My best friend is still struggling with his new jobless status. My oldest friend is still beleaguered by her troubled children. I'm still fat.
BUT this is my favorite weather. The heat is over. My cat Charlotte is OK. And my mom is no longer scared or suffering. That's a comfort.

My doctor thinks a week or two more of Ambien and Xanax is quite typical and will help me fake it till I can make it.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The Sparkling Beach Meme, Part 1

1. Ever been given or received an engagement ring? Yesterday I just received my recently deceased mother's engagement/wedding ring set. I don't know what I'm going to do with them. My older sister is being so hideous that I'm considering having our mother's rings appraised and then just hand them to my sister … provided that she just leave me alone about the money, the money, the money. It's wearying. She was my mother, not an investment.
 
2. Longest relationship? Too long. He wasn't a very nice man.
 
3. Last gift you received? Flowers from my oldest friend. They made me so happy!
 
4. Ever dropped a mobile phone? No.
 
5. When's the last time you worked out? August. I'm not happy about this. I think I would feel better and sleep better if I could get back to the health club.
 
6. Thing(s) you spend a lot of money on? Streisand and Springsteen tickets. Bruce was just after Labor Day. Babs is in October.
 
7. Last food you ate? Post Great Grains

8. First thing you notice about the opposite sex? Hair.
 
9. One favorite song? Ba-de-ya!

 
10. Where do you live? Chicago. The best city in the world.

11. High school attended: Yes. I hated it.
 
12. Cell phone provider: Working Assets
 
13. Favorite shop: The Body Shop
 
14. Longest job: I have been with this agency since 2004!
 
15. Do you own a smart phone? Why? No. My little phone works just fine for now.
 
16. Do you prank call people? No.
 
17. Last wedding you attended? My friend Barb's.

18. First friend you'd call if you won the lottery: My oldest friend.
 
19. Last time you saw your best friend(s) Christmas 2011.
 
20. Favorite fast food Restaurant: Five Guys

Saturday 9

 

Saturday 9: Papa Was a Rolling Stone 

1. What’s the best memory that you have of your dad, while growing up? He traded cars with a coworker, driving home in a station wagon. Then he turned down the backseats and took my favorite little classmate and I to see HELP! at a drivein. He wanted to make sure that we young Beatlemaniacs had plenty of room for screaming, crying, bouncing around, etc.

2. How boring do you think your life is? I wish it was more boring. I was named executor of my mother’s will, which gives me way too much to do in way too short a time span. Plus my older sister could not be angrier about this turn of events.

3. Can you do any accents? If not, do you know someone who is good at it? I am hopeless at this. However, I had a lover who was exceptional. He had a million of ‘em, but my favorite was when he’d call me, pretending to be Bobby Kennedy.

4. What technology did you at first fear that you now could not live without? You’re lookin’ at it!

5. Do you, or have you ever, thought you have a book in you? Oh, I dunno. I write ad copy for a living. I’m not sure I even want to try to write a book. It might just feel like an extension of my job. Maybe when I retire …

6. How does the weather effect where you live? It doesn’t. Everywhere has its extremes and natural disasters.

7. Are you more interested in your favorite artist’s next work, or the TMZ side of it all? Depends on the artist. With my beloved Boss, Bruce Springsteen, his work is all I need to know. On the other hand, I just like Jennifer Aniston very much and news of her recent engagement made me happier than some of her movies have.

8. Have you ever felt “battled-scarred” by a relationship or relationships in general? If yes, do tell. I wasted too many years on a genuinely hideous man. Every now and again he tries to contact me. I wish he wouldn’t. He’s creepy and cruel and I don’t trust him, even after all these years.

9. Do you tend to root for the bad guy? Well, Bonnie & Clyde is one of my favorite movies.

Ready for some good news?

About 15 years ago, my mother took a job as lunch mom at the local grade school. It made her very happy to be at the same school where her granddaughter, my niece, was beginning kindergarten. She made $10/day, which she put to her electric bill.

While there, she met another lunch mom. Lisa was juggling motherhood and nightschool and took the gig to see her son during the day and help out her household with a little extra money. Despite their 20+ year age difference, my mom and Lisa became friends. After a few years, Lisa moved on to her new career as librarian. She and my mom ran into one another in town every now and again, but they drifted apart.

Lisa showed up at my mom's funeral service last Sunday and remembered how much my mother loved her cat, Ethel. She found out that Ethel died a few months ago and that my mother had recently gotten a new cat, Nora.

Lisa asked if she could take Nora! She said it would be "an honor" to repay my mother's kindness in the way she believed Mom would appreciate most. Plus, Lisa's son -- the one she took the lunch mom job to be near -- is now in college and will be moving out soon. She believes it would do her good to have a furry friend to help her ease into this new phase.

I am so relieved! I figured I'd have to take Nora, because clearly that's what my mom wanted. But I didn't want to. Nora has been through a lot -- from shelter to my mom's house, and then my mother's absence due to hospitalization and death, knocking around in that big house all by herself. And so has my own high-strung cat, Charlotte. I was so worried about the impact Nora would have on my delicate old girl.

Nora went home with Lisa last night. To a forever home. I'm so grateful for how this turned out.

WHAT A CHARACTER! Blogathon

 

A TRIBUTE TO GAIL PATRICK

You know her: The dark-haired beauty who bedevils the fair-haired heroine. Stylish and smart, she was always a formidable foe, but -- movies being what they are -- she never wins. In short, spicy Gail Patrick helped make such leading ladies as Carole Lombard, Ginger Rogers and Irene Dunne seem twice as sweet. Her screen persona is clearly illustrated in three of her most famous films: My Man Godfrey, Stage Door, and My Favorite Wife.

My Man Godfrey (1936). At the center of this sublime screwball comedy are the Bullocks, a Park Avenue family has more eccentricities than sense. Gail Patrick is sophisticated Cornelia, the sister who has to win at all costs. The inimitable Carole Lombard is adorable Irene, who has so much heart and humor that they crowd out common sense or killer instinct, making it easy for Cornelia to best her at every opportunity … until a new butler, Godfrey (William Powell). enters their lives and puts his thumb on the scales, tipping them in Irene's favor.

Unlike the guileless Irene, Cornelia is smart and scheming and makes no attempt to hide it. At one point she requests a favor of her current beau, he automatically asks, "Who do you want killed?" She dismisses this comment as silly, not because she's not that kind of girl but because, "I do my own killing."

Cornelia is a beautiful woman, so it's not impossible to imagine men preferring her to the luminous Lombard. In Gail Patrick's best scene, Cornelia makes a serious play for Godfrey. He responds by telling her how he feels about her, calling her a spoiled "Park Avenue brat" who wastes her energies on childish pursuits that are beneath contempt -- even the contempt of a butler. Because Cornelia admires Godfrey, his words hit her like a whip. She visibly winces but then replies haughtily, "Thank you for a lovely portrait." Naturally, we're glad our hero Godfrey sees Cornelia for the selfish scorpion she is and prefers Irene. But the way Patrick plays it, we're touched by her sad attempt to retain her dignity and we find ourselves pulling for her despite ourselves, hoping that she will see the light and turn her life around.

Stage Door (1937).  Instead of an heiress, she's a working girl, just another aspiring Broadway starlet in a very full rooming house, waiting for her big break. While the movie stars the indomitable Katharine Hepburn, Gail Patrick's Linda finds herself tangling not with Kate but with Ginger Rogers' Jean.

Linda and Jean are dancers who compete not only for musical-comedy parts, but for the attention of the much older and very influential producer, Anthony Powell (suave and slimy Adolphe Menjou). As the movie begins, Linda is Powell's current "flavor of the month." Linda relishes this not only because it can advance her career, but because Powell is showing her a life she could never afford on her own. It also gives her prestige in the boarding house. And remember, Linda is sharing space with some very formidable roommates -- in addition to Hepburn and Rogers, the stellar cast includes Lucille Ball and Eve Arden.

It would be easy for Patrick to get lost amid all these  smart-talking dames, but she doesn't. She rises above, working so hard to command respect that she never sinks into villainy. Yes, she's sleeping with the producer to further her career. The movie is rather frank about that. But she's also sympathetic because Linda clearly realizes how tenuous her position is. She attempts to hide her desperation by appearing tough and confident, even when confronted by a pretty blonde replacement (Rogers' Jean).

The scenes between Linda and Jean crackle with tension, because (1) each recognizes how worthy her adversary is, and (2) the prizes at stake -- a modicum of financial stability and even better, a part! -- are so rare and dear in their world.

Linda: If you were a little more considerate, maybe Mr. Powell would send his car for you someday. Of course, he would probably take one look at you and send it back … You know, I think I could fix you up with Mr. Powell's chauffeur. The chauffeur has a very nice car, too.

Jean: Yes, but I understand that Mr. Powell's chauffeur doesn't go as far in his car as Mr. Powell does.

Linda: Well, even a chauffeur has to have an incentive.

My Favorite Wife (1940). At last it looks like Gail Patrick gets the man. And, oh, what a man! At the beginning of the movie, her Bianca Bates marries Nick Arden, played by none other than Cary Grant. But romance never runs smoothly for typical Gail Patrick girls, and Bianca is no different.

The film opens with Bianca and Nick trading I Do's before a judge. Nick has just had his beloved wife Ellen declared dead, a full seven years after she went missing at sea. While Nick and Ellen were once happy together and had two lovely children, he believes it's time to move on.

Unbeknownst to Nick and Bianca, Ellen Arden (Irene Dunne) has just been rescued from the Indonesian island where she's been shipwrecked all this time and she's on her way to back to a joyous reunion with her husband and children.  Uh-oh!

After she receives a tip from Nick's sympathetic mother, Ellen takes off for Yosemite, hoping to interrupt Nick and Bianca's honeymoon and reclaim her man. Just as the elevators close, taking him and his new bride to their hotel room, Nick catches sight of Ellen. But it can't be! He just had her declared dead! Naturally, he's shaken.

After quite a bit of charming slapstick, Nick realizes that Ellen is indeed back, healthy and whole, and he's thrilled to have her. But now he has two wives. What to do?

The contrast between heroine and interloper is so clearly drawn, it's as though director Garson Kanin and screenwriter/producer Leo McCarey used a thick, black magic marker. Irene Dunne is fair-haired, Gail Patrick is dark. Dunne's character is the homespun Ellen, and Patrick is the more exotic Bianca. Ellen is a loving mother, Bianca is childless and, at best, a dubious stepmother. Ellen was able to thrive on a deserted island, whereas Bianca couldn't survive without room service. The sophisticated Bianca calls on a foreign-born psychiatrist to help her understand Nick's sudden coolness and erratic behavior. Ellen is a well-adjusted, neuroses-free All American Girl.

So while the movie itself is funny and endearing, in My Favorite Wife, Gail Patrick found her quintessential, and most thankless, role. With Bianca she's not so much a character as a clever plot device. Yet she acquits herself admirably. Nick makes it clear that Bianca was good to/for him after he "lost" his wife and, if he's not exactly in love with her, he appreciates her and doesn't want to hurt her. So it's Cary Grant's humanity and charm in the role of Nicky that engenders sympathy for Bianca, not the script.

A full career after movies. In 1947, at the age of 36, Gail Patrick married literary agent Cornwell Jackson and walked away from acting. A lifelong diabetic who found childbearing difficult (she gave birth to premature twins who lived only a short time), it's sweet and touching that upon her retirement she opened a playground in her home, an informal daycare for the children of working actors and actresses. She also took her lifelong love of fashion and turned that toward kids, designed a line of children's wear. Happily, she and Jackson eventually adopted two children to complete their family.

Then, in 1957, she returned to show biz, behind the camera. Her husband was Erle Stanley Gardner's agent, and that gave her a huge advantage when she wanted to bring Gardner's Perry Mason character to television. She executive produced 271 episodes of the extraordinarily successful show for CBS and Gardner's Paisano Productions.

She in died 1980 at age 69, but she lives on through the Gail Patrick Charitable Trust Scholarship. In her will, she left $1 million to the help "young women of distinction" continue their education, regardless of their finances. She is also remembered for lending her time and talents to the American Lung Association's Christmas Seals Campaign. "My Man Godfrey" would have been very proud of how beautifully "Miss Cornelia" turned out!

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Three great bloggers/Twitter pals, Kellee (@IrishJayhawk66), Aurora (@CitizenScreen), and Paula (@Paula_Guthat), are co-hosting a celebration of character actors–those indelible supporting players who populate some of our favorite films. As they explain:

“[We] are dedicating an event to the great character actors that so enhanced our classic movies. To the faces, the laughs, the drama presented by these wonderful actors whose names all too often go unrecognized we dedicate WHAT A CHARACTER!

• Would Casablanca be as great without the laughs provided by S. K. Sakall?
• Would we want to look out Rear Window if not for the warnings of Thelma Ritter?
• Can you measure how much Edward Everett Horton added to the fabulous Astaire/Rogers pictures?

We think these and so many others deserve their due. 

So, here we are with a blogathon in their honor.”

The Return of the Sister

My older sister left for California at noon on Tuesday. I really thought that after she glared at me and yelled and yelled Monday afternoon I was done with her. And then she rose again like Glenn Close in the tub at the end of Fatal Attraction.

She spent Wednesday on the phone to lawyers here in Chicagoland and then to my kid sister, suggesting an alternate to the lawyer I have chosen and how I should handle my mother's estate. She did not call me directly.

I don't know what my sister told the other attorney. My mother really had nothing but bills. We don't have a lot of options for how to handle her "estate." And the will is clear -- I am the executor and I make the decisions. My lawyer is my lawyer. I like him, I trust him, he handles wills and real estate all the time. He is handling it.


I just have to be careful to cross my t's and dot my i's in case she challenges everything six months or a year from now. That's why I consulted an accountant this afternoon.

Real estate agents, the reverse mortgage lender, Social Security, a lawyer, an accountant ... I think I'm done with the phone calls for a while. This weekend we'll receive reports from the realtors that will confirm what we already know -- my mother's house is not worth anywhere near $200,000. Then we'll settle with her reverse mortgage lender, file the will, and begin to pay off my mom's final debts.

In the meantime, my kid sister is packing up the house. She has a lot to contend with, too.

If only our older sister would return to the bottom of the tub.

Thursday Thirteen #189

THIRTEEN PROFESSIONS THAT MAY 

BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH

According to The Daily Beast, these are the thirteen most dangerous jobs anyone can hold. They used an intricate equation that includes how many workers are in the industry, how many injuries and how many fatalities. I admit I couldn't follow it all. What I list here are just "the high hard ones." These sobering stats make me glad my mother made me learn clerical skills.

-->

Profession	Per 100,000 workers	Salary
1) Fisherman	200 deaths	$22,160
2) Firefighter	11,600 injuries	$47,760
3) Airplane Pilot	57 deaths	$53,990
4) Police Officer	13 deaths	$55,400
5) Logger	4,200 injuries	$35,360
6) Roofer	5,300 injuries	$41,200
7) Sanitation Worker	25 deaths	$37,830
8) Bus Driver	7,600 injuries	$34,820
9) Dairy Farmer	14 deaths	$24,930
10) Grain Farmer	4,700 injuries	$24,930
11) Courier or Messenger	6,800 injuries	$39,940
12) Industrial Machinery Repairman	18 deaths	$42,220
13) Athlete	6,300 injuries	$44,790

For more information about the Thursday Thirteen,

or to play yourself, click here.

Better living through chemistry

I realized during my mother's service that, even though he died nearly two years ago, I'm still not over her baby brother, my uncle.

At my mom's house I found a letter I wrote him in "Agust 13, 1967" when he was in Viet Nam. Lined paper, torn from my spiral school notebook. "I hear you were in battle. I bet it wasn't fun. Please don't get hurt!" Do you realize he kept that in his foot locker, brought it home, and took it with him every time he moved over the decades until he died? He and I, we loved each other.

I didn't expect to still feel so bad about him. It makes me wonder when the full impact of my mother's death will hit me. 

Consequently, I haven't been sleeping. I am desperately tired, but cannot sleep.

I called my doctor, who told what I am going through is not unusual. She gave me a prescription for sleep meds. Hopefully, if I take a pill at bedtime, soon I'll resume sleeping through the night and wake up refreshed in the morning.

Today is Wednesday. I have four nights, really, to sleep. I'd prefer not to take the meds before I have to be back at work Monday morning.

The Root of All Evil

There is no hell in the afterlife. I know this because I have recently experienced it here on earth.

No one in my immediate family has any money, it seems. This includes my older sister, who had been bragging about how important she is and how well her job is going, yet now tells me she's broke. And boy, is she ever mad at me.

Apparently I am supposed to pay the utilities and property taxes on our mother's house until it sells for $200,000 so that we can break even with the reverse mortgage. Not make money, mind you. Break even. That house is worth $150,000 in this market. She refuses to believe it because the lot is so huge. She thinks someone will pay $200,000 for the land and tear the house down and build apartments. Why would someone pay full price for a home to level when they can buy a foreclosed property for a fraction of that?

She also is willing to wait 3 to 6 months to enjoy the mythic bonanza of riches that we will reap. The thing of it is, the bill from the funeral home is due within 30 days. I have paid $4000 on it already. Another $6400 is due. I am on the hook for it. I told her that all her plans for storage lockers and garage sales and Craig's List and real estate deals don't help me when that bill comes due.

She started yelling at me. And yelling at me. She called me a martyr and said I was grating on her. She told me she doesn't have to give me anything on the funeral home bill. I told her that's just what I always expected her to say.

It was ugly. One niece started to cry until she threw up. The other one hid in the basement.

Then she hugged me and started to cry and said we were sisters. Gee, that explains why she was always around the house. She said that she's broke but promises that, within 30 days, she will "make a dent" in the remaining $6400.

I'm on the hook for it.

My mom's will is clear. I am in charge. If I can't handle it, my kid sister takes control. Only if both of us relinquish control does my older sister get involved. This is not what I wanted. This is not what I expected. But my mother did it for a reason.

I invited my older sister to meet with me and my lawyer to be nice. I didn't have to. Before she arrived, he made it clear to me that as executor, he is MY attorney. He will advise me and answer any of her questions, but he will only take direction from me.

We're going to get three estimates on the house this week. Then what I'll do is call the bank and tell them to take the deed to the house in lieu. That will free up my mom's checking account and her handful of shares of Met Life stock. That will put us to about $9000.

Out of that will come legal costs, my mom's final bills and the storage until until we can have a sale to dispose of her belongings. And my uncle's final belongings. My kid sister can't pay anything, but she's going to handle the lion's share of packing and disposing. It's an emotional and hard job, so I don't begrudge her.

My older sister is a cunt. But she's now back in California where she belongs.

On a brighter note, I think the service went well. My aunt/godmother stayed glued to my side. Four good friends came by and stayed for a good while. I got through it and it's over.

On Heaven

I miss my mother. But only selfishly.

Now she is in Heaven. Healthy and whole and reunited with her baby brother (my uncle) and my dad. My parents had a difficult marriage in its final decades but I know they loved one another once and am convinced that now, in Heaven, they are restored to when they were at their best, and together.

I had a lover who didn't believe in the afterlife and told me it was a crutch. If that's true, well, it's a crutch I lean heavily on right now.

Except it's not true. My mom is in Heaven, sitting on the arm of my dad's recliner with her head in his neck, or laughing at one of my uncle's ridiculous puns.

I may be lonely and hurting but she is at peace. And that is God's greatest gift.

Sunday Stealing: The 88 Meme: The Last Part Thankfully

69. Song you're thinking of right now?

70. Want someone back in your life? My mom. I am laying her to rest today.

71. Will tomorrow be better than today? Oh, please God, yes!

72. What's the color of the underwear you are wearing? I’m wearing my favorite white Hanes granny panties.

73. Who was the first best friend that you ever had? My oldest friend. We met in kindergarten and Beatle bonded in first grade. She was on the phone with me for hours last night.

74. How do you react when someone disappoints you? I’m either pissed or sad.

75. Is there anyone who understands your sexuality? I had a younger lover who really knew where all my buttons were. It’s funny, because he and I had little in common except for his intricate knowledge of my buttons.

76. Are you a naturally happy person? Or is your happiness forced? I’m naturally happy. I’m blessed that way.

77. Is there anyone you wish would fall in love with you? Yes

78. What do you wear when you sleep? Lately I have a pair of “I Love Lucy” nightshirts in rotation

79. Are you obsessed with something right now? Yes. Money. And I hate it.

80. The first person you loved is? My mommy, and she died

81. Something terrible happened with you? I wasted too much time on the wrong man

82. You are locked up with your celebrity crush for days, what happens? It would be Bruce Willis. So please, make your own Die Hard joke here.

83. If you could wish something, what would it be? That today would be over.

 
84. Ever try to force someone to do something? Yes. And I'm seldom successful.

85. When you are alone, what do you think about? Stuff.

 
86. How was your first sex? It was fine. It wasn't great. But I feel lucky because I've heard other girls recall it being painful.

87. What's your favorite music genre? What genre are the Beatles?

88. Are you happy I only wrote 88 questions? Nah. I could talk about myself all the live-long day.

The Calvary Is Coming

Sometimes being surrounded by family feels like being under seige. So later today, when we lay my mother to rest, it will be pretty awful.

First of all, he will be there. The relative who molested me when I was a teen, our family patriarch, will take his place of honor at the service. This is the last time I will ever have to see him. While I'm sorry that he didn't predecease my mother, it is what it is.

Fortunately, my aunt/godmother has flown in for the service. She is my dad's kid sister. With the passing of my mother, her last direct tie to my mother's family was severed and so she seemed to be the logical person to turn to in this. She has no divided loyalties. She has promised that she won't let him near me. I explained to her that my Cousin Rose, the person who may love me most in the world, will be there and has no idea what her uncle did to me. While I have no interest in protecting the old bastard, this is not the time to disillusion Rose or break her heart. Her heart is too dear. So my aunt will simply run interference for me. (Not that it's simple. To me it's a huge relief!)

My older sister is angry at me because I have asked her twice to commit to how much she will help with the $9,615.48 bill that I will be presented with at 3:00 today. I have to put at least $3,205 down today and pay the rest in full in a month.

This is literally keeping me up at night. My mom had no life insurance. If I empty out my savings to pay this, what if I lose my job? It makes no sense to touch my retirement savings because I'll be risking my old age. At first my sister told me that she had to discuss this with her husband. Then last night she snapped at me that we would we do what we discussed -- I would pay for it all of it and she would pay me back. We never discussed that. She told me how upset she was having to fly in and that we would discuss it again when she "can cope." Unfortunately, waiting until I "can cope" is not a luxury I can afford. I'm being handed a bill at 3:00 today my meeting with lawyer to walk me through all this stuff isn't until 3:00 tomorrow. I am terrified I will make an uninformed, stupid mistake that will have ongoing legal consequences.

My mother was not one who believed in organized religion. Her own parents divorced in the 1940s, and instead of being supported by the church community, my grandmother was ostracized as a slut. So my mom had no minister. The funeral home put me in touch with a non-denominational minster who will speak over her. I told him she would want the Serenity Prayer because her mother, an alcoholic, got such comfort from it through AA and so that prayer was a bond they shared. Because my mother loved animals and the outdoors, I requested this verse from Job:

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know, that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind."

I asked the minister to tread lightly about my dad, just say that met and married in the same hometown where my mother lived all her life and would be laid to rest. I reminded him over and over not to mention my grandmother's drinking, just that she and her daughter shared the Serenity Prayer. I asked him to mention my mother's brother, the uncle whose death I'm still not quite passed. 

But what do you bet someone will be mad at me about the service? I just know that I did something hideously wrong that I will get slammed for.

Oh, well. My aunt/godmother and Cousin Rose will be there. A couple of my longest-standing girlfriends promised to be there. I have friends who promised to keep their cellphones on if I need to run out during the visitation and scream. So I do have reinforcements.

I just wish today was over. 

I just wish that instead of this mess, I still had my mom.