Two

It was raining, hard. A typical winter night in Seattle – cold, wet and dark. My mother, sister and I were waiting on food when my mom’s phone rang. I was confused after she hung up the phone, “something happened.” Time became a blur. I don’t remember the drive, but I do remember speed walking the long and winding hallways of the hospice center feeling like I was in a dream where you’re stuck in a maze. People were outside his room and I remember asking what was going on, they wouldn’t answer. We both knew what the answer was, but it wasn’t their answer to reply. I walked in to the room where he laid motionless and peaceful. He didnt appear to be in any pain.

Life and Death and Taxes

I think about death a lot… Probably more than what anyone would say is normal. What is normal, anyways? In my defense, I feel I’ve been surrounded by it a lot and have needed țo work (or type) it out. These last few years have brought a few big losses in my personal life, as well as to those around me. I have found it’s impossible to not think about death without feeling a twinge of needing to live a little more in my own. A very ying/yang reaction, I suppose.

So what am I going on about? New Year’s Eve an uncle passed away after a very long drawn out illness and I was happy he was at rest. It’s awful watching anyone struggle in the grip of disease and failure of one’s own body. He was cremated and arrived this week… Via USPS. I don’t know why this struck me as much as it did, but this poor mailman showed up to our doorstep apologizing for our loss. Such an underwhelming ceremony for someone’s life, right? I honestly didn’t know what to think of that, his remains casually mixed in with the mail. With bills, letters, coupons and all the remnants of our pedestrian mundane lives next to all that was left of him. If I’d known my remains were to be shipped with a Pottery Barn catalog, would I maybe take myself a little less seriously? Would I take more time to sip my coffee in the morning, instead of rush in to bumper to bumper traffic? Would I be in such a rush to hurry up the weekend or would I remain present in the now? Would I ask out that guy, go on that trip or say sorry for that one time when I did that thing? Or would I be mean and resentful? Would I shut people out? Would I throw a tantrum at the waitress, speak down to a stranger, cheat on my lover? What would I have done differently had I known in the end I took nothing but the skin on my back with me? Would I choose kindness or would I choose to bring everyone down around me? If I’d known all that it would be in the end, just a stranger tossing what was left of me so casually in to a bag, what would I change? After a lifetime of stories, laughter, tears, heartbreak and cheers, amounted to this box of ash and dust next to someone’s taxes, would I find it still necessary to hold that grudge? Would I give more to the world or less? Would this give me humor, purpose, humility or a bitter and doomed depression? I wonder if my uncle knew, what would he have, if anything, done differently?

BRB, Gotta go Force Cry in the Steam Room

I received a lot of kind feedback from last week’s post, thank you so much! It was a tough week, to be perfectly honest. I had a migraine for most of the week, cried a lot. Y’all, I planned one evening around going to the gym and crying in the sauna. No joke. And this guy kept coming in and out and I’m over here, “EXCUSE ME, TRYING TO DRAMATICALLY CRY IN THE STEAM ROOM ALONE PLEASE, THANKS. IT’S REALLY HARD BECAUSE I’M SWEATING SO MUCH… I’M GETTING CONFUSED IF THESE ARE TEARS OR BALLS OF SWEAT… I MEAN, IS THIS NORMAL?” So I went home and ate cheese while nursing a lack of hydration/forced cry headache. Grieving is just not cute. I mean, it’s not all proud moments clutching pearls while a single tear rolls down your cheek. Its more spontaneous outburst of tears when a certain musician plays, poor choices for fun (why have just one headache when you can be self sabotaging and add a new pain to the mix?!), assuming everyone is mad at you (no one is mad at you, to be clear)…. and it’s time. Time can ease the pain while simultaneously exasperate the length of absence it’s been since you last saw them. Time is a fickle mistress.

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A funny thing did happen at work this week. One of the gals turned 21 and was planning a 21-Run (no, that’s not the joke but yes, you should laugh at that cause I sure did) anywhoooo one of the other gals was heading to the party and trying to look up ways to ensure they wouldn’t be hungover and I’m hollering, “I GOT YOU FAM – I’M A PROFESSIONAL*” and I’m giving her my best secrets about pedialyte, emergen-c, etc. Then here comes my boss, “Maybe just don’t drink that much…” I was floored, literally never had that thought cross my mind.

*I’m a recovering alcoholic with over two years of sobriety – I’ve had a few hangovers in my life… Physically and emotionally I imagine. Wait, are we talking hangovers or hangups?

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The family got together on Easter which was lovely. Easter gatherings have changed dramatically over the years with who we’d spend it with and where. The above photo was taken at a friend of the family’s that we spent it the most with. At one point we would pull out the vhs tape (who still has a working vhs player?!) of the egg hunt we had, where said photo was taken. Side note: Y’know, people think they have a resting bitch face, but it’s quite clear I established this look in 1983. Its a pretty cute tape of us being silly, me glaring, my mom and sister in their 80’s finest and I think I pushed a boy over. Probably. I’m still trying that technique to pick boys up to date. Still single

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This last week at the gym: My dear friend took me to the gym and gave me a workout routine which I’m forever grateful for. Its nice having a trainer I actually trust! Expecting instant results is trying to discourage me, but I’m keeping focused. Mermaid swimsuit and giant clam shell floatie will be mine. As per usual I saw my fair share of odd happenings. One was the lady giving the thigh master a lap dance. It was incredibly uncomfortable to watch as she stood facing the chair bopping up and down. Really hoped she sanitized the thing afterwards… today I saw an older woman in the locker room causing what I would describe as an incredible offense (I’m being really dramatic and sarcastic here) she was EATING in the bathroom. But what you ask? A Sriracha flavored baked tofu loaf. What in the what? Why is that even a thing, first off, but eating in the bathroom?! Nope. Just, noooooo.

Have a great week y’all and whatever you do… please don’t let me catch you eating in the bathroom. K, thanks.

Romance at the Gym – Still Got It

Saturday was St Patrick’s Day, in case you went so Irish you forgot – no judgement. I chose to make my co-workers some cookies to celebrate the holiday and made Peppermint Chocolate Crackle Cookies. The cookies are chocolate and covered in powdered sugar so in the spirit of my Grandma Rosetta I learned how to dye powdered sugar green. Grandma would dye everything green for the holiday – bread, butter, milk, unopened milk, your mouth… It seemed only fitting. I was, however, ambitous on how many cookies I thought I needed to make and how much powdered sugar I thought it would require. It doesn’t take much powdered sugar to coat a cookie, so I’ve learned. I am currently in possession of probably 1.5 cups of green powdered sugar that I have NO idea what to do with, yet feel compelled to keep it. That is also grandma coming out of me, for the record. I mean, it’s perfectly fine but I never use powdered sugar, so I could afford to toss it, but no. Its in a bag in my pantry. *sigh*

It’s hard to not think of rainbows when you hear St Patrick’s Day, which reminds me of my favorite story from my sister’s childhood. When she was little she saw a rainbow in the sky and told my father she wanted to find the pot of gold at the end so our family could have more money (I know, my sister is the perfect human being). Dad agreed to help and they went hiking around the neighborhood but each time they reached where they thought the end of the rainbow was, it moved. Finally after a couple of hours of this it grew dark so they came back home. My sister told this story at my fathers memorial last year ending, “he taught me in that moment to never give up, to keep pushing, to persevere against the odds.” And then a woman played, ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow,’ and we all cried (It was in that moment, I realized Stila waterproof eyeliner was a fantastic investment). For my sister’s birthday this year I bought her a locket with a line from the song, safe to say it was a hit.

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This (last) week at the gym: I’m pretty excited and proud of myself, I’m finally going to the gym. For the first time EVER it hasn’t been a struggle to go, I actually don’t mind it. Who knew? Anyways, the other day I noticed one of the personal trainers and thought he was cute. So, I’m minding my own business on the leg press machine when him and I make eye contact. I’m in between sets so I’m taking a moment to breath as this happens. What I haven’t mentioned is the compromised position I’m in on this machine – I’m sitting here with my feet planted on the press so my legs are squished tightly against my chest, more or less a birthing position ready to launch a baby out, but with clothes on, I imagine I’m also flushed in the face and we lock eyes. I’m not good at this whole flirting thing so I try to smile, but he starts to look concerned and starts towards me and that’s when it occurs to me – he thinks I’m stuck. So I start my next set, he stops and goes back to whatever he was doing prior to our awkward, I mean super romantic rendezvous… Maybe next time I’ll try to make direct eye contact on the thigh master. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, everyone needs a hobby.

Alright, I better sign off before I start rambling.