dream journal.

i dreamed last night that i found a secret basement in my grandparents' old house that was full of my grandmother's amazing vintage clothing, arranged by decade, from the 1940s through the 1980s. there were purses and shoes and tons of dresses, hung on rolling racks. it was VERY exciting. all the clothes fit me perfectly! there was some sense that everyone wasn't going to just let me have as many clothes as i wanted, which made me feel upset, but mostly i felt confident that i was going to plunder that shit like a viking, regardless.

then i woke up and it was just a dream and i haven't been to that house since my family sold it 10 years ago or so. it was fun being back there, because i love that house and i was too young and head-up-the-butt to really do anything about it being sold and i've always regretted that. in my dream it was a little more 'marie antoinette's house in the country' that in was in real life, and everything was covered in drop cloths, but it was still an overall pleasant dream.

the cloud.

i've done a lot of traveling this summer.

bali and los angeles and now i'm in new york. (i know. it's not technically summer anymore.)

on all of the trips, away from home, i hoped for something. i'm not sure what i specifically was hoping for. maybe just a lot of fun. LOTS of fun. like, amazing, face hurting, the best time ever fun. and all the trips have been/were/are wonderful. but i've brought this cloud of sadness with me everywhere i went. i think i must have been expecting to shake it at some point, like taking a vacation from my problems (a la 'what about bob'.) and that didn't end up happening. i stayed sad, and most of all, lonely.

i've never really been a melancholy person, nor would i have described myself as chronically lonely. i have a lot of really good friends, all of whom i feel totally comfortable being myself with. i don't keep a lot of me in reserve for special times or something. i feel pretty darn comfortable exposing all of my deepest, darkest secrets to nearly anyone. so this constant feeling of isolation is pretty new for me. not totally unprecedented (see los angeles years) but not my usual way of being.

but everything since my mom died is so weird and not normal to me. i look at my life now and i realize i have basically no idea who i am, what i'm doing, where i'm going, what i want - anything. i'm a total mystery to myself. if i run down the basic details of my life: marriage, living in petaluma, no job, pilates, mom dead, puppy, cat - they all add up to a life i totally don't recognize as mine. i think a huge portion of my cloud can be chalked up to Life Post-Mom.

i'm so much sadder, as a person, than i ever was before. my basic faith in the rightness of the universe, that things happen for a reason and i can trust that everything will work out for the best, is fucking shot to shit. that rationale - the idea that things happen for a reason - can go fuck itself. no, sorry. i don't accept happiness now as necessarily predicated upon my mom's heartbreaking, untimely death from a fucking brain tumor. so, i also have to give up the idea that "god" has a plan for me, and that everything is happening according to that plan, because any plan that requires the death of my mom can go fuck itself, too. so, rather than accepting there's a god that makes things happen and made my mom die in order for something good to happen for me is not welcome in my heart. i feel much more peaceful with a worldview where bad and good things just happen and we attempt to cope with everything gracefully. no smugness at the good, no bitterness at the bad.

anyway, i digressed onto a well-worn track. god: yes or no? not what i meant to talk about.

i am sad. i continue to be sad. i continue to be stymied about who i want to be, and what i want my life to look like. i am not sure who i am if i'm married and can't rely on my looks for attention. seriously, this is a question i am wrestling with. also, i'm not sure how to experience joy anymore. the happiest i've been in a long time was when i was meditating, so maybe i'll start that again, in hopes of recapturing that.

in the meantime, i'm just kinda schlepping along my cloud. lonelies, sads, uncomfies. not my favorite chapter of my life.

The Referendum - Happy Days Blog - NYTimes.com

The Referendum - Happy Days Blog - NYTimes.com

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via emily.

a really lovely meditation on self-doubt and lifestyle jealousy.

white woman's guilt.

i'm not sure what it means that i haven't been writing here.
i haven't been writing anywhere, really.
haven't worked on my book seriously in months.
haven't meditated.
i dunno.
i feel a little off kilter, but not dramatically so. just a smidge.
i'd like to be doing those things more.
but not enough to actually do them apparently.

one thing i have been doing is pilates.

did i mention i'm doing teacher training to become a pilates instructor?
i am.
here's where i'm doing it.
it's fantastic.
it's changing my life.
i'm excited, proud, challenged - everything good.
i'm doing pilates about 5 times a week, and feeling stronger, so cool.

that's not really what i want to write about right now, though. maybe a little bit not really.

i want to talk about me feeling guilt over my lifestyle.

so, i'm not working.
that's not new.
i've come close to looking for a job a few times in the last year or so, but shannon felt like having me at home, managing the house and taking care of the dog, would be worth more than whatever smallish amount of money i'd be bringing in. and, given my eternal 'nyeh' over working, and general lack of vocation to speak of, i am totally fine with that set up. i'm actually not that good at being a a housewife and have really had my shortcomings thrust at me through this, but i'm developing really helpful habits, which make me an infinitely easier person to live with, i think.

so, i'm not working.
i'm married.
my husband is really handsome.
though we have our ups and downs, and went through a rough patch there a little while back, we're really happy together and totally in love.
we own our own home. (well, the bank owns it and we're buying it from the bank, but you get my meaning. our monthly payments are going towards something that we will eventually reap the benefits of, unlike renting. the fact that most of the payment goes to interest in the loan isn't the topic of discussion right now, but it should be, some day. fucking banks.)
i have awesome hair.
i get many services, that are very pricey, done for me for free, or at huge discounts, by incredibly talented friends.
i have many of the things that one pictures when they're thinking of success in the modern world and money. (new mac laptop, newish iphone, multiple ipods, gucci sunglasses, etc.)
i spend a very large portion of my time working out, doing a type of exercise that is usually insanely expensive.
i travel to fun places fairly often (LA, NYC, BALI!!!).
my body is pretty close to what the magazines say it should be. i'd be a plus size model for sure, but i'm in proportion and i'm closer to the ideal, physically, than a lot of people are.
one of my main responsibilities is to look after my dog, who is pure bred.
i am able to shop at whole foods (whole paycheck) exclusively, unless i feel like going to trader joe's for something.
my hair care and skin care products cost more than some people's haircuts.
i don't have kids, by choice, which means i only have to worry about myself, my (ridiculously handsome) husband and my pets.

what i'm saying is, i am living a life that a lot of people might consider perfect.
i'm not complaining.
my life is freaking awesome.

but, because i'm a human being and this is our eternal struggle, i experience unsatisfactoriness.
sometimes i lie in bed and dread going to the dog park AGAIN.
my hair looks wonky, or flat, or boring.
my forehead is short (really more of a threehead) and i can't have heavy bangs like i'd like to.
my skin and hair care products refuse to change my life the way the magazines tell me they will.
i want MORE things.
i tried on bikinis at target yesterday and looked WRETCHED. like, dimpled and jiggle and bulgey. really, really bad.
for all my working out, i look nearly the same as i always have, as far as i'm concerned. i'm not in smaller clothing sizes, for one thing.
i feel like i'll never lose weight, never look good in a bathing suit, never wear shorts or a short skirt without a hint of shame and fingers crossed that no one looks too closely.
i wish my mom was still alive.

what i mean is, i'm just like everyone else.
i want things that i can't have.
i don't want to do the things i have to do.
i am not happy with the hand (or midriff) i've been dealt.
i wish i was younger still.
i regret choices i've made.

and every time i say anything remotely negative about my situation, or express anything other than blissful contentment, i get scolded by people for being unappreciative of what i have.

it's gotten to the point where i am leery of even sharing my negative feelings about things, for fear i'll offend someone.
i feel like i need to couch everything in apologetic terms "this thing happened and it sucked. (i know, rough life.)" "totally stoked on my life, but wish i didn't have this thing to deal with." why am i apologizing for having the feelings i have? am i not allowed to experience unsatisfactoriness because i have a great life?

and what makes people think that not working, or having money at all, automatically means blissful contentment? do rich people seem happier to you? their families more functional?
look at ebenezer scrooge, man. he was rich a hell and he was miserable!

so, spoiler alert, guys: having money doesn't solve all your problems. it solves some. it creates others. me not having to work doesn't change the fact that my forehead is too short for the bangs i like so much on other people. it doesn't make me 17 again. it doesn't bring my mom back.

all it means is that i have more hours in the day to myself, which also doesn't solve anything. still not writing. still manage to piss entire days away sometimes. still mismanage my money, wish i had more/new/better clothes. still wondering which handbag will complete me as a person. still not doing anything about darfur.

it's true, i'm not sacrificing my life for kids, or having to make serious budget cuts, or wasting hours of my day and years of my life at a job i resent.

but i don't have everything figured out, and i still struggle with life, and i have just as much right to wrestle with my problems as someone who lives in section 8 housing, or someone with cancer, or someone with alopecia. i don't feel like my not needing to work cancels out my right to expect compassion over the things i struggle with, even if they're not life or death struggles.

you know what?
i don't know many people who are dealing with situations that are literally life or death.
and agreed, in the grand scheme of things, i fully recognize that i am lucky to have a torso at all, or a threehead, or an undervalued home. yes, i am lucky to be alive and not being raped a bunch in a refugee camp. we all are. does that mean that the people who are facing foreclosure on their houses don't get to worry about their problems? are they supposed to just be thankful for the fact that they're not facing refugee camp rape, and shut up about their financial concerns?
because if so, i expect a GREAT deal less complaining from pretty much everyone in the entire world, outside of palestine and darfur, 'kay?

of course i am thankful for my life.
my life is amazing.
that goes without saying.
if you hear me posting FML stuff, then you're welcome to tell me to shut up.
actually, you know what? even then, i'm allowed to be bummed for a while.

body.

hey!
it's been a while!
i'm not going to get into a recap.
i'm fine.
doing well.

but i'm here to talk about something specific.
i'm having some body issues.

i just started pilates teacher training.
it's very exciting, but mostly totally terrifying.
i never did sports. i never took dance or gymnastics. PE was often the only class keeping me from getting straight A's in grade school. i have never been in great shape. i've always been a reader, or a TV watcher, or a sitter-arounder-and-chat-and-smoker.
but when i was grieving so intensely the winter after mom died, i spent a lot of time working out. i did a lot of cardio and i did weight training at the gym. and i really liked it! i was very, very surprised because i'd never really enjoyed anything athletic before, but it totally hit the spot for me.
then i fizzled some on the gym, and i've been pretty sporadic about it, up until a couple of months ago, when i got really serious again.

i work out for many reasons, but the main one is that i want to lose weight and have a better body. when i was working out before i totally didn't see a difference, at all. shannon swears he did, but i don't really remember him ever telling me. i was mindful of what i ate, but i didn't sweat it too much. so i always assumed that the reason i never noticed more of a change, with my sudden dramatic increase in exercise, was that i wasn't eating right. maybe i needed to decrease my calories?

so this time around i've been trying to monitor really closely. i'm counting calories. i'm logging work outs. i'm measuring myself and weighing myself. and i'm still not really seeing anything.

so, it's only been a couple of months. that's one factor, i'm sure. i'm 30 and i'm sure my metabolism is slowing down, so i need to be patient. i still eat some carbs, and have to really struggle to keep myself away from sweets. i should probably quit all breads, but no carb diets just aren't sustainable, and i don't think carbs are inherently bad. i'm all about some complex carbs. but i should definitely quit sugar, and maybe gluten.

i dunno.

i'm just feeling really discouraged. i'm working so hard and it's hard to want to keep going when you're not really seeing the results. i know the goal is to be healthier overall, and it's a lifestyle change, not just trying to get thinner, but let's be realistic... I WANT TO LOSE SOME FUCKING WEIGHT.

i'm starting to get a little bit crazy. i feel like everywhere i go there are women/girls of all ages who have way better bodies and in my head i semi-obsess over what they know that i don't know. i lost a bunch of weight right before i met shannon, because i was eating these gross energy bars for breakfast and lunch and drinking tons of coffee and smoking cigarettes. one of his first orders of business after we met was to wrench the nasty bars from my hands, and shame me into smoking less, and i totally gained all the weight back, which is obviously fine and much better. but on some level, i consider buying a case of those bars from costco. i consider only eating bars, and taking vitamins and drinking water. i sometimes feel like i can only handle total control (basically anorexia, which i absolutely don't have) or no control (eating whatever.)

i don't really think i'm "fat" by conventional standards, and i'm totally within my healthy weight range for my height. but i don't want to be on the outer edge. i want to be in the middle, or towards the lower end. i am sick of feeling like i'm a bit chubby, or being embarrassed about my soft tummy. i feel like my difficulty losing weight is a total condemnation of my willpower, that i'm weak and a quitter and can't do it.

the person i see in the mirror is different all the time. somedays i feel nearly willowy, which is kinda my dream. many, many says i wake up feeling gigantic. not really gigantic. just kinda swollen. big. heavy. ungainly.

i'm trying to forge a new relationship with my body, after barely communicating with it for about 27 years. i don't understand how it works and i find it totally mystifying and very frustrating.

i wish i could see myself through a few other people's eyes, so i could get a better sense of how i'm doing and what i look like.

anyway, i'm not quitting. i'm going to be a pilates teacher someday, and so help me god, i will not be the chubby teacher. (i go to spin class and whenever there's a chubby teacher i can't help but wonder if they're doing it right, because if you're doing spin all the time, i'd think you'd we 90 lbs.) i'm not quitting, i'm going to keep on working on it and i'm not going to give up.

but i'm really discouraged and afraid nothing i do will make any difference, i'm just destined to be 'the birth of venus' forever. it could be worse.

it can't fail!

okay, so i have had a brilliant idea and i am basically on the brink of becoming a millionaire.

here's where it came from...
shannon and i went out to dinner at a mexican place we used to eat at all the time but then stopped going to. immediately upon finishing the meal, it became clear why we never eat there anymore...it makes shannon ill.

oops.

so i thought, 'sometimes you eat something and wish you hadn't a kinda want to take it back...'
and VOILA!

you guys....vomitoriums!

wait for it.

yeah! I KNOW!

so, here's my thinking, just spit-balling...

ladies are out for a bachelorette party.
they want to eat a giant steak dinner, with baked potatoes and bread and rolls and everything. YUM!
but they also want to go out dancing afterwards and no have to deal with post-meal sluggishness or bloated food bellies.
so, they come to my upchuckery!
they rent a group room.
they check in and trade their clothes for some robes and slippers. (no terry cloth. getting vomit out of terry cloth is a nightmare. i think.)
they waddle into a large tiled room, with showers and stalls and troughs and sinks.
they do their business.
they shower, if they feel so inclined.
they leave the room and head into the powder room, where complimentary water (cucumber, lemon, fruit, bubbly, flat, cold, warm...so many types!) is available. also saltines.
there are sinks where they can use toothbrushes (which we sell, and which come with free toothpaste and mouthwash!), wash their faces, reapply make-up, use some perfume from the perfume bar, and get ready to go out again.
maybe they want to lay down a solid layer in their tummies so they can drink a bunch!
we have a cafe that serves tummy friendly foods!
chamomile tea, papaya enzymes, chicken soup, grilled cheese, salads with mild dressings, ginger ale...
so they eat some, get gussied up and head back out, skinny and smelling better, but having enjoyed a lovely dinner!!
IT CAN'T FAIL!

so, that's one market.
maybe we have a ladies' night package.

obviously the bulimic are an option, but we can't count on them. they're not going to be our bread and butter. (get it?)

another market is drunk people.

either they want to keep drinking, or they're too drunk and want to start sobering up somewhere that isn't a bar bathroom. either way, we're there for them.

we'll have private rooms (NO SEX!!), semi-private rooms, and public rooms.
you check your clothes at the door, and they're returned to you, smelling better.
maybe we have sober up specials, where you can rent some of those capsule sleeping pods that they have in japan for a couple of hours to help sleep it off, and then we'll throw in a free breathalyzer before you leave. overnight parking, for a fee. free shuttle with certain packages? (just riffing.)

obviously we'll open our first branch in las vegas, because where else will there be so many stupid people doing stupid things they wish they could take back, right? from there, we'll see. i'm thinking...the marina? hollywood?

my only problem...a name.

ideas? the upchuckery isn't going to sell itself. we need something less barfy.

by the way.

hey, guys!

i'm embarking on a project, wherein i enter all my myspace blog posts into this one.

so, if you'd like to take a trip down memory lane, and enjoy more of my delightful insights, feel free to check them out.

they start in november 2003.

sorry i haven't had much to say lately.

i'm fine, so you know.

spring cleaning, mom, her scent.

it's spring time, everyone. rebirth, fresh starts.

a fresh start for our storage space to not be a nightmare teetery box maze.

shannon digs, and i examine the finds. much of it is mine, from our moves and our tribulations. the pressure to decide, item by item, on the importance of any individual thing of my mom's was simply too great, and i'm afraid i erred on the side of 'put it in storage and deal with it later.' shannon politely, sensitively, but firmly asked me to reexamine the boxes, so they could be labeled and stored properly.

one box was CDs of music i will never, ever listen to. vince gill, enya, so much andrea boccelli.

one box had binders and files and folders - receipts and deeds and notes and letters, none of them useful, aside from copies of the birth and death certificate of my grandfather, the commander.



as i pulled the flaps of one box back, it exhaled the smell of my mom, a punch in the stomach. it was a box of her clothes, the ones i hadn't given to goodwill. and they had retained her smell, despite being in a manky cardboard box, in our musty, dusty storage space.

the smell, you guys.

it was still there.

those are the things we lose and can't ever retain. i know i've written about it before, but it keeps coming back.

the smell of someone's life.

the texture of her skin.

the shape of her nails.

the contour of her shoulder meeting her neck, where my head fit perfectly.

the sound of her blowing her nose, first thing in the morning.

these are the things that fade away.


i know HER, in my bones, back to front.

i don't need her here to tell me how much she loved me, or that she was proud of me.
i don't need to ask her what she thinks about things because i can already just know.
i wear her jewelry all the time, her clothes and purses and shoes and scarves.
the archaeological record of her life was remarkably thorough.

it's the soft parts that decay first, is what i'm saying. the hard bones of her life surround me, but the feathers and fur and breath are going and mostly gone now.

except this box - this amazing, miraculous gift of a box.

for a few minutes, i could bury my face in her scent.

and, being me, as i marveled at the discovery, i was already preparing for the disappointment of its loss. just by smelling it i was mingling my own scent with hers, corrupting it, exposing it to the invisible smells of our house, our life, and all the things we take for granted.

i've been through this a million times, with various pieces of her clothing. i'll find it and realize it smells like her. i'll keep it, so i can smell it carefully, with restraint. can one sniff away all the scent molecules of something? is that possible? just in case, i practice moderation in my sniffs.

but then the temptation is too great, and i wear the item. and for a day or two, it's magic. the primal message of safety and security just wraps me up and i lose my head, forget moderation and planning for the future.

and then the smell is gone and i'm left with another piece of my mom's clothing, special for its proximity to her, but now smelling like boring old me. or, i imagine it smells like me, since i can't smell myself.

so i open the box, and bury my face in it. the clothes are silk and velvet - quintessential mom clothes. i tossed the t-shirts and sweat pants and athletic socks because who the fuck cares about them, but these are the clothes of her soul, basically, and i couldn't part with them. i burrow deeper and deeper into the box, pressing the cool fabrics to my face and inhaling a little bit gluttonously.

the smell isn't exactly right, actually, but it is very much closer than i've been in months.

i watched her die, in that hospital bed in her bedroom at home. i held her hand as the last breath left her, and her smell was the same, even as she died.

now i haunt the world a bit, always seeking that smell, sniffing after strangers, just in case. i look completely normal on the outside, calm and mostly untroubled, and i am. but there is always a part of me searching for her in everyone i see. you never know. maybe there are scent twins in the world somewhere, and i will find hers by chance. maybe that scent twin will recognize my scent, and we'll embrace like long-lost family and i can bury my face in this stranger's neck and feel like i'm home again.

1:00am and all's well.

hey, blog.

missing you.

thinking about you.

your time is coming.

it might be too late.

hi!

a lot has happened, and i had written and REALLY long blog post about everything and all my thoughts about it with clever links and such, but i kinda ran out of steam. it might be too late for the really detailed recap, so i'll do a quicker one, with the highlights.

the biggest highlight is selling my mom's house, FINALLY.

after a bunch of stops and starts and it seeming like it might not happen, it finally happened, though up until we saw the money in our bank account, we were still hanging out in a 'we'll see' limbic zone. i know i was afraid to get my hopes up, after things falling apart with the sale the first time.

it's such a miracle that the house sold at all, in this economy, and makes me wonder why these buyers wanted the house so bad, but i'm certainly not complaining. just saying. it was really lucky for us. it was lucky for the buyers, too, since the house is gorgeous and obviously a good buy, being sold for considerably less than it is appraised for, but still. we were worried we'd have to sit on it forever.

with the house sold, we got to close the book on our involvement with allen. up to the last days it was looking like he might fuck the whole thing up, in his own special allen way, but it happened, anyway, thank goodness. it's nice to know there is no reason why i HAVE to answer the phone if he calls; nice to know all remaining ties between us, of unfinished business, are gone. i owe him nothing now, and have no reason to even believe i'll hear from him again. while there is considerable joy associated with that, and SO much relief, there's also some sadness. though he was a source of incredible discomfort and negativity in my life, he was also another connection to my mom. he was crazy and a total asshole, a weirdo and a giant problem, but he loved my mom just as much as i did, and he was the only other person who was as deeply affected by her death as me. i wish we'd been able to share that a bit more. it sucks that his insanity was like a solid wall between us, totally impossible to get through. he didn't seem very interested in connecting about it, anyway, but it would've been nice if we hadn't had so much negativity between us. for a lot of reasons, obviously.

with the house out of my name, and the mortgage paid off, we have a lot more money per month for other stuff. it also means shannon doesn't have to say 'yes' to every single job he's offered, because he can afford to not work for a bit, since we're not trying to digest two mortgage payments, two sets of property taxes. hello, fancy tropical vacation! i've been wanting a really big vacation pretty much since mom got sick, and have taken a bunch of smaller ones, staying with loved ones in LA and NY, but i really want a lying-around-with-drinks-in-coconuts vacation, that looks like a cerveza commercial. that's a possibility now, with the money from the sale of the house and the added money per month that we'll have. i can say truthfully, without a hint of self-effacing or bragging, that we fucking deserve one.

we each got new laptops! they're so sexy and little and light, it's awesome. obvs they're macs. i got the macbook and shannon got the macbook pro, since he's a bit more of a 'power user' than me. it's actually ridiculous how little of my computer i use, in general.

in other news, i've had the flu for a couple of weeks. fever and sore throat for two days in the beginning of last week, then fading to a gnarly cough and copious amounts of yuckiness in my sinuses. i'd like to get more graphic about them because it's a total medical freak show in there, but i'll save it. if you want to details, email me, i'm happy to supply more details. suffice it to say, it's not pretty.

i pulled it together for a saturday afternoon departure for los angeles with shannon. a couple of movies he worked on last year were nominated for awards from the sound editors organization (like the oscars for the sound business), a guy shannon works with was being given his lifetime achievement award, and lots of people from up here were heading down for the awards ceremony, so we decided to go to. in hindsight it was a really dumb idea, totally not worth the trouble, but we did it anyway. i still wasn't feeling the best, but i felt good enough, i thought, so we drove down. we got there about 45 minutes before the dinner started, so we rushed in and changed. shannon looked very dapper in his new suit jacket and shirt and tie, with jeans and some fancy man shoes. (we didn't have time to get his pants tailored and they looked a little silly, but the jeans looked awesome, and were actually more 'him' anyway.) i dressed up, too, looked totally fine, in a new dress and new fancy shoes. my voice had gotten really hoarse and croaky, so i had a rough night trying to chat with people. it was a struggle to make myself heard over the ambient noise, but i persevered. (like anne frank, over here.) neither of shannon's movies won, but it was still fun to see everyone all dressed up and chat with some of my favorites of shannon's co-workers. the meal was nyeh.

by the end of the awards show, my voice was pretty much blown and i was really tired, so i snuck out, without saying my goodbyes, which weighed on me, and headed up to the room to crawl into bed. i couldn't sleep because of the indecorous amounts of fluid in my sinuses, and the gods were cruel in their TV programming. (so unfair! i don't have a TV and only watch TV in hotels or at other people's house, so it's kind of a special occasion!) shannon stayed and hobnobbed for a long, long time, and didn't get back to the room until 1:30am or so, which was unfortunate for both of us, because we had to leave at 5am for the drive home because my friend's baby shower was at noon in marin. oof.

one of my skills is coping well on limited sleep, which is very useful. so, i told myself that i wasn't going to SLEEP, i was laying down for NAP. pretty impressive, huh? it worked like a charm! i woke up tired, but not groggy and miserable, though by mid-morning i was pooped. the drive was long and boring, as usual, though the rain has made the central valley really green, so it was less ugly than usual.

i got to the baby shower in time, despite some rain-related traffic on the way. my voice was pretty much completely gone, and i had a terrible sounding cough, so i checked in with the mama, to see if my wretched soundingness would be unwelcome, and after she checked with her mom, who's a nurse, she said it was fine. i'm really glad i went, too, because it was tremendously beautiful, in a way that i've never experienced with traditional baby showers.

first, a bunch of my best ladies were there, and we've all been friends for over ten years, and it was pretty amazing being there to celebrate the first one of us moving into motherhood. we don't get together a lot, aside from major occasions, and the last times i've seen all of them have been sad ones - my mom's funeral, ana's mom's funeral, some birthdays. it was nice to be in a not sad, not loud gathering with them, where we could really talk.

the shower itself was much more of a rite of passage ceremony, marking zoe's transition from the maiden phase of her life, into motherhood. her mom was there, running things, as were a whole circle of ladies of all different ages, celebrating the transition. there were lots of tears and lots of laughter. in my head, that kind of thing sounds uncomfortable and embarrassing, but it was perfect and lovely and warm and beautiful and i was very thankful to be included. made me a bit baby yearny, but not insanely so. just a little jealous, managably so.

it also made me miss my mom a lot, and wish she was alive still to throw me a magical, goddess-y baby shower. just another of the myriad things i wish she was here to do, but it was painful being in such a motherhood-centric space and gathering, knowing my mom is dead and i don't have that anymore. i've been a little raw about mom again, with selling the house and saying adieu to allen. it's the closing of another chapter of mom's life, and there aren't really anymore of those, that i can think of. yeah, allen was a huge problem for us, and the entire situation with him is still such a throbbing OUCH in my head and heart, but he was mom's partner and was a part of her and a connection to her life. with each chapter closed, it's almost like she didn't live. not really, but a bit. there are less and less reminders, as the physical artifacts of her life are dispersed, and the people spread out. being at the house was so good-bad, and inheriting it was like everything else that was left over, where the reminder was both extremely painful and also comforting. so, losing that was great, because i have one less irritant, but still.

as i'm struggling to recover from the flu, my wisdom teeth have begun to really bother me. lame timing, body. not cool. so, full of snot and coughing, i met with an oral surgeon today, to get them taken out. just the toppers. i guess i don't have bottom ones. (because i have absorbed them, and their accompanying wisdom already, probably. that's what got me through mom's death.) so, removal next week. i've never had nitrous oxide, and i get to take valium, too. so, that's something. i'm really sick of coughing and having to sleep with my mouth open so i can breath through my mouth. i'll be thankful when this all dries up.

i signed up for a workshop next month. i'll talk more about that later, though. it's a long story.