okay.

little things keep popping up that are tough to figure out. do i change my 'mom' entry in my phone to 'allen,' since it's not mom who's calling anymore? i get a double jolt every time he calls now - once because i think it's mom for a second, and again when i realize it's him and i'm scared it's something bad. how do i decide what to keep of hers and what not to? i don't want to be over precious with her junk, keeping things only because they were hers (her unopened packages of post-its, her needle-nose pliers, her unused jar of hand cream), but the idea of chucking something, even a small thing, is hard to get comfortable with. i miss her very much. i hate these new decisions and the new weight of her being gone. i hate having to decide what of hers to keep, because i don't want it, because i just want her back. the missing her is insidious - it'll feel totally manageable, and then suddenly engulf me, so i can barely breathe from it. i'll see a picture of her, from a few years ago, and it seems so fresh, like the last year of her never happened - the scar from her brain surgeries, the hair missing from radiation, the extra weight from her recuperation, the fuzziness. i still haven't said 'goodbye' to THAT mom. i think i'm complete with the mom from last year, but the mom from before that, from before the sickness, who was sharp and protective and sassy and dynamic...she's the one i am mourning.

was terribly, terribly nervous about going up to RV today, but it was mostly painless. i spent the whole drive up feeling ill from anxiousness and also writhing around from my cramps. my woman time couldn't possibly have worse timing.

allen was mellow and not a weirdo, we signed some semi-stressful money docs without incident.

i packed up almost all of my personal stuff from the yoga studio (or the hidey-hole, as i liked to call it).

shannon and i almost had to fight with knives after bickering while we lugged his god-cursed truck topper into the barn. i didn't appreciate the tone he was taking. we made up.

i impulsively decided to bring down all of mom's orchids and african violets. allen's been watering them too much, and then letting them sit in water, and i was getting anxious for them. so, we packed them in boxes and drove them down to our new house, which increased my plant family from, say, 7, to, say, 20. it's a little much, but it'll take some time to see where they like the light best. they seem to respond best to bright, indirect light, which we don't have that much of. i'd love for us to put in a window thingie that i could put them in. (what are those called? not window boxes...that's something different. you know, when the window bulges out? i can't place it. jane, you have one. what's it called? also, i'm going to need to ask you some questions about african violets, since you're so good at them. i'll call you soon.)

i grabbed some books of mom's to check for quotes for her service. i couldn't find the one i really wanted, which came close to breaking me. i can't imagine where it could be. allen seems like he doesn't even know what i'm talking about, but it was a very, very, VERY special book to mom, like the equivalent of her bible, full of highlighting and notes in the margin. i am deeply troubled to have it missing, but i'm hoping it turns up. anyway, there was another version of the same book there, so i grabbed that, but it was still a deep disappointment. i snagged: my favorite picture of mom; a green stone bear that mom took when my grandma died (dad's mom), which my grandfather had brought back for my grandma from yosemite, i think; and the crystal that mom bought my grandparents for their 50th wedding anniversary.

i spent a few minutes in mom's closet, with my face buried in her clothes, breathing in her scent. it won't last forever, so i'll try to enjoy it while i can.

we're home now, unpacking all the crap from up there, getting plants situated. i'm packing for my little holiday in new york, visiting lu. i could easily work myself into a lather trying to pack perfectly and efficiently, but i am giving myself permission to bring my big suitcase. whatever. who the fuck cares, right?

i had a dream night before last. after all those very sad, upsetting mom dreams, it was nice to have a not-emotionally-scarring dream. in my dream, i was dating zac efron. he was really cute and fun to date, and SUPER stoked on me. i kept telling him, 'you know, if you're gay, and i'm totally not saying that you ARE, but if you WERE, that would be fine, and i wouldn't be mad at you or anything.' and he was really laid back about it, totally not offended, polite, but politely insisting that he wasn't gay and was really into me. it was so fun. usually, when i have making out dreams, it'll be awesome and then i'll remember that i am going out with shannon, and i'll feel terrible, and wonder how i'll ever be able to explain it to him, that i had really forgotten that we were dating. so, this one wasn't freighted with any baggage, just me getting frisky with a gayish 20 year old.

back to packing. i have cramps and am wondering what is the most comfortable, least homeless person-looking outfit i can manage for a long flight?