When did wordpress turn into tumblr?

20 11 2012

I think I’ve been gone too long. This is all weird and new and I don’t like it. I DON’T LIKE IT.

Anyway. An update.

I’m fine. We’re fine. I was very annoyed because Manfred was being very annoying. We’re adults, we get over shit. Or, more accurately, we just ignore it and pretend it never happened. It’s shockingly effective. Things have been very calm and settled since then, and I know he loves me. He’s even trying to learn some Sufjan Stevens songs on the banjo. Suck up.

I’ve decided to just let things ride out until February. It’s going to be a rough month for me regardless of what happens with him, as it’s my grandmother’s birthday (on our godamn anniversary) and I will be in Puerto Rico. Alone. Mostly. Savannah will be there, and for that I say a silent prayer of thanks. It’s also going to creep up on the one year anniversary of losing her. I’m a mess most days about that still. I don’t know that a day, or even an hour goes by that I don’t think about her. I miss her so much. And I would give anything to talk to her about all of this. And I do. Because I’m a creep. And because I know she’s still listening and guiding me in her own way.

Or maybe she’s not. I flip out about that every other month, too. Have I mentioned I’m thinking about therapy? Yeah. I think I need that.

I wouldn’t go get my cards read in NOLA last month because I was too scared she would be there…and more scared she wouldn’t. WELCOME TO MY ISSUES. Blogging is like free therapy, right?

Anyway, when I get home from PR, I’m going to be an emotional mess and probably not in the right state of mind to be making BIG. LIFE. DECISIONS. So, for me, and me alone, I’m extending my personal deadline until April. If I can make it through March alive, I’ll consider that a big enough accomplishment.

I also feel weird about putting a deadline/ultimatum on my relationship. But I have to for my sanity. I don’t want to be wondering where we stand, and if I’m going to get to be a mom, at 34. Being pregnant is terrifying enough, I don’t need to add in extra risks.

This is all over the place.

In other news, I’m headed to Thanksgiving at my sister’s this year. I’m super excited to spend some time with her and my nephew cats. Should be excellent. Mom is coming too, so I know the turkey will be delicious. I hope y’all have a great holiday, too.

It won’t make it better, but I want to make sure

24 03 2011

Lucero performs “Hold Me Close”

As hard as it is for me to definitively say “this is my favorite song” by any band, Lucero is by far the hardest. But whenever I listen to this song, I think this absolutely has to be it. Because I am the lamest fan girl that has ever existed, I know all sorts of secrets about this song. I have several versions of this song, but my favorite is the one from a Cory Branan and Ben Nichols bootleg. The addition of Cory’s vocals and guitar takes this from a song I love, to a song that breaks my heart in zero seconds flat. I would give up a kidney to see these two on stage together.

I like a lot of the versions of their songs they do together, but this one just stands out. It’s such a tender song which is something both Cory and Ben excel at, even though they’re both heartbreakers. I can’t really explain it, this is just one of those songs for me. The first time I saw Shotgun Stories I drove myself nuts looking for the instrumental version they use in the film.

I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, and J-Bear sent me the link to the video above (as well as and awesome piece of art in the mail. The boy is too good for this world) and it hit me so hard. All of my fears and my doubts. I’m old enough to know better than to try and drink them all away, but I do other things that I know won’t make it better, but I want to make sure. Maybe I’ve finally found my meaning for this song. I just hope I can make things right.

19 03 2011

Protected: and her temper worse than wildfire it is gunpowder and blows up everything

14 03 2011

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The bitch of living

5 11 2010

This has been one of the worst weeks of my life.

I think Manfred is about to have a nervous breakdown. It’s one thing to watch your mother die. It’s another to watch her pass back and forth between two worlds.

After months of not fighting, not trying and just being complacent, she is fighting. She is resisting the peace that death will bring her. She wavers between silence and nonsense. After days of not eating of drinking, she begs for food and water. She mumbles about people who aren’t in the room, well…not that the rest of us can see. She cries and says she’s frightened. She says not to worry, she’s strong and she’s fighting. She doesn’t recognize her children. However, last night she nailed my name and called me her daughter-in-law.

She will be taken off of Hospice Continuous Care after tonight. Since she’s been up, alert…ish…and asking for food and drink, they think she doesn’t need any additional care. They also argue the family has been there around the clock so therefor…

I have always spoken highly of Hospice. I have always praised their efforts and their kindness. These bitches…

They denied her a transfer to the Hospice facility. They wouldn’t give a reason…finally Manfred dragged it out of them. Because it’s considered a lateral move, insurance wouldn’t cover the transfer and they would not be reimbursed. Are you fucking kidding me?

Then there was the issue with the agency nurses. I can understand Hospice being short staffed. It takes a special kind of person to do that work. But I don’t believe in filling in with agency nurses. Apparently the one was reading some racist propaganda newspaper. And the nurses at the nursing home…one of them blatantly told Mama she didn’t believe she was dying. That went over real well. They also argued with the family about how much meds they’re giving her. They’re accusing the family of overmedicating her and knocking her out.

When she’s awake she’s in pain, confused and scared. She upsets herself and the kids. The meds make her calm and comfortable. Why would you want any other alternative to that?

It’s a horrible, slow and excruciating process. Last night, I dragged Manfred out and he was so upset that he said he can’t go any more. He told his sister he needs to go see someone, and talk to someone because he can’t deal with her hanging on like this. No one wants to lose a loved one, but after you’ve watched someone you love suffer and struggle for so long, you pray for peace. You pray for relief. For them and for yourself. It’s a very horrible position to be in, but at the end of the day, you know that the only way it’s going to get better is for it to end.

For now, all my future scheduled appearances have been canceled. No Atlanta to see Jami. No Detroit for Thanksgiving with my sister. Even going to work is a struggle right now. I can’t stand to be apart from him.

After a long (wonderful) talk with Guam earlier this week, he put a lot of it into perspective for me. We talked a lot about my tragedy and his. I won’t go into his battle right now, but he knows my thoughts and prayers are with him and his beautiful family.

Guam  has always been a good sounding board for me. I don’t even think when I talk to him. I don’t block or deflect, I just talk. I surprise myself with the insight he pulls out of me. He is a rare person in that I trust him completely and I never put my guard up with him. He forces me to think of things in different ways. For example, Manfred is a dude. He requires different things. He doesn’t want to talk, there’s nothing I can say, but my sheer presence is immeasurable. Just being in the same room helps. That’s made it both easier and harder for me. I hate to leave him for any amount of time, but I want to respect the fact that he needs some time to himself to reflect and cope.

Chi is in town and will hopefully be in my possession this evening. Some friends brought us dinner the other night and other friends are supposed to do the same on Saturday. We are so lucky to have so many amazing people to count on right now.

I just keep praying for this to all be over. For her to pass peacefully and for Manfred to find some much needed relief.

1 11 2010

I don’t even have the words for how tired I am.

I wish I could say NOLA cured my pain, as usual, but this time it didn’t.

Not to say I didn’t enjoy myself or my fabulous company. There are few people I would have trusted myself around as much as Savannah and Nola.

Another reading. Another phenomenal experience.

Shitstorm brewing at home.

I got to Manfred’s at nearly 1am last night. We talked for awhile but really the best part was just being able to physically be together after a really rough week apart.

Mama is going. Quickly. Manfred and his sister have been with her nearly 24/7 the past few days. Words cannot describe the guilt I felt at being gone. I was ready for the fight when I got home. New Orleans may not have put my worries at ease, but she did prepare me. My lady friends helped too. More than they probably even know.

I went up to see Mama tonight and the change a week has made is staggering. It won’t be much longer. Shocking, no. But that doesn’t make this any easier. But I’ll be godamned if I don’t have my game face and my big girl pants on. So please, forgive me if I’m withdrawn, or just plain out ignore you right now. It is taking every atom of strength I possess to make it through this and to be there for Manfred. Nola always says I take great care of everyone. I hope she’s right.

I made the kids dinner tonight and just let them talk. Anything I can do, they know I’m just up the street. I’ve got a book and a blanket. I even kept pants on in case I need to get in the car and drive up there in a hurry.

My heart is breaking. I may not have understood Manfred’s Mama, but she was sweet. Her choices and lifestyle were foreign to me, but I know she loved her kids and her husband more than anything. And I know she will be terribly missed by all of us. I also know that we all want her suffering to end and her peace to come. So please, prayers, good thoughts, positive energy…however you do it…please send some to my sweet pea and his sister. I can only imagine what they’re going through and I hope that they can find peace as well.

sure does

20 10 2010

Another summer gone…

11 10 2010

It’s supposed to be 88 degrees today. It’s 10/11. Just last weekend I was all bundled up, boots and scarf included, watching my Reds win the last game of regular season play. They were on their way to the playoffs. The first time since I was 13 years old. Before I moved and started at a new high school. Before first love. Before college. Before everything. It’s been way too long boys.

Wednesday brought a disappointing, but respectable loss. A no hitter is nothing to be ashamed of. Friday brought a sliver of hope when the game started with a 4-0 lead. Errors and nerves took over and we fell once again.

Late Saturday morning, I got the call. “Hey…I have an extra ticket to tonight game…do you want it?” Thank you best cousin ever, yes. Yes I do.

A few hours later the next call came. Another ticket. This one with Manfred, who won a ticket through work. We were going to the playoffs. It was still possible, though highly unlikely, that the Reds could come back and sweep the rest of the series.

Walking into that ballpark, the same ballpark I walked into on many other important nights this spring and summer, was electrifying. You could feel the hope in the air. You could see the joy on everyone’s face. The playoffs! The Reds were going to do what the Bengals hadn’t right down the street this same day. They were going to win.

The roar was deafening as the announced the players. The boys I spent my whole summer with. Stubbs. Phillips. Votto. Rolen. Gomes. Cueto. Hernandez. Bruuuuuce. These were my boys. My Reds. And I wanted so very badly for them to win. They fought so hard this year. Such a young team. All season I watched their baby faces on the video board. Most of them were younger than I, some veterans. Few had made it to the post season before. But they fought hard and they clinched on a chilly Tuesday night. I watched, from the stands, as Jay Bruce hit a walk off home run. They had done it. My heart swelled. There were hugs and high fives all around. This was it. We thought.

Growing up in Cincinnati, you get used to disappointment. Especially where your sports teams are involved. I believe you are all familiar with the Bengals. And as I mentioned, it’s been 15 years since the Reds have made a playoff appearance. 20 years ago they swept the A’s to win it all. The World Series. Maybe it was a more likely scenario back then. But we had faith. Even if we had doubts on the inside, we shouted our support.

But all the rally towels in the world couldn’t take down the Phillies. We watched our boys struggle, and finally fall last night. People started to trickle out in the top of the 8th, but most of us stayed, praying for that rally. Praying for one more day. Even if they lost on Monday, at least they’d have one win. Something we could be proud of. But, former Phillie Scott Rolen, struck out. And it was done. There was a celebration on the field. It was so different than the one just a few weeks prior. Silent. Joyless. It was over. It was time to go home.

But I’m proud of my boys. We drew the short straw. The Phillies are arguably the best. Halladay pitched a perfect game this season. They have post season experience. We didn’t stand a chance. But we got one. We tried and now, we have a taste. We know how good it feels. We know what 44,599 people cheering together sounds like. We know that next year will be the year.  Stay hungry. See you in April, boys.

In case you were curious…

30 09 2010

Yes. I still hate everything.

This week has been awful and Manfred and I had a HUGE fight tonight.

I yelled. A lot.

I usually control myself better than that.

I had the most horrible dream on Sunday night and couldn’t get back to sleep. I had to murder someone to save someone else and I was Perseus, but I was me…we watched Clash of the Titans before bed. Anyway, I dreamt all of this centered around you-know-who. I woke up to an owl hooting. Owls are messengers of death in Egyptian folklore. Needless to say, I was a wreck the next few days.

Would I know?

If something did happen to him, how would I ever know? Would I feel it? Would someone tell me?

In my dream he was married to her and she was pregnant. Just as likely, probably more likely. In my dream I ran into them at IKEA and I was excited to see them and congratulatory. Not as likely. And then he was dead.

I don’t want to understand my subconscious. I want it to shut up.

I miss him so much it hurts sometimes. Still. One love is not equal to another. A new love does not fill the hole the old one left.

I hate myself for a million reasons, but letting a tiny part of me still love him is the thing I hate most.

It’s time.

8 09 2010


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