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January 27, 2012

Good Grief

In this article on grief in The Guardian, the following sentence jumped out at me: "After a month had passed by, I had the distinct feeling that I was supposed to "muscle through it" and move on, as if I were recovering from flu rather than mourning the passing of my mother."

That's how I feel. Stunned that seven weeks along, I have the damn nerve to tear up as I pass a Captain D's we ate at, or want to avoid the petite section in Kohl's because it makes me sad.
It's been seven weeks - I should be over it! She was gone a long time before she actually died. [I tell myself]

I miss her. 

Last night as I watched 50/50, the only part that made me cry was when the main character, Joe, told his demented father he loved him. Great heaping sobs. 

I still have not called the hospice group, but they send a letter every month with "tips" on grieving. 

Myrtle's daughter invited me to the CB support group on Thursday nights. 

And didn't go, even though I could have.

Maybe you have some insight she said. 
I got nothing, I said. 

To the people who find out that she died and get all apologetic like they shouldn't have asked - it's okay. You didn't know. I feel like I should say it some other way than - she died in December. Which is the truth, but they get so shocked and want to take back the - how is your Mom - question.
I feel bad, like I should be making it easier for them.  

Here's another article - on introverts (not grief). I like the definition of shy vs. introverted:  "Shyness and introversion are not the same thing. Shy people fear negative judgment, while introverts simply prefer less stimulation; shyness is inherently painful, and introversion is not."

Maybe they should base insurance rates on whether one is introverted or extroverted:  "...[introverts] are less likely to take dangerous risks. Extroverts are more likely than introverts to get into car accidents, participate in extreme sports and to place large financial bets."


For all us introverts, and my friend GA Boy, (who is a self-proclaimed Djork) here's It's Oh So Quiet:

January 22, 2012

A Tinge of Melancholy

Doesn't that title just make you want to read on?!

Could be the cold and drizzly weather. I even rearranged the furniture yesterday and it didn't help at all.

Some things I've been thinking about:

- Where's MY tax stuff?! I know where Mom's is, but not mine. Crap.

- The captain of the Costa Concordia. Every time he opens his mouth it gets worse - I tripped and landed in the lifeboat?? - what are you, ten?! As the daughter of a Coast Guard "lifer", I know this - the captain stays with the ship. The end.

- This story has haunted me. I wept when it happened, followed anything about it, and am still thinking about her.

- These chocolate bars from Trader Joe's.
If you are near a TJ's and like chocolate, run, don't walk, there and pick up one a few. They're only $1.99! And frankly, better than many of the more expensive bars I've had.
The salt, the gooey caramel - my gill slits are salivating.
Serving size - half the bar. Half!
Yeah, not exactly what the Doctor [Atkins] ordered, but sometimes you just have to ignore him.

This may be breakfast. Isn't chocolate good for depression/melancholy?

January 18, 2012

No Netflix Tonight

So you're stuck with me. That's really too bad for you, because I got nothing.

Eating some Bull Street Chicken Salad with cranberries and almonds from Bull Street Gourmet & Market
Doing some laundry.
Have a dentist appointment at 8 AM tomorrow. Nice way to start the day.
How's that for excitement? 

OH! Seeing Paula Poundstone Friday night - that should be fun. 
Hey, where are we eating beforehand? Better check...
Ohhh maybe Toast

That's it. You are so lucky!

Bacon Bits

Hey, can that pre-cooked bacon go bad? I bought some (and used some) a while ago (not sure how awhile ago) but it tastes funny now. Not bad, just funny. It took me a whole slice to decide it could be a bad idea to continue.

Hope that was not poor planning on my part.

I have gotten SO lazy in my old age. Pre-cooked bacon, hard boiled eggs, triple washed greens, chopped garlic, pre-chopped mirepoix - all go in the grocery cart now.
I used to enjoy cooking and all it entails. but when it's just me (about 99% of the time), I steam a bag of vegetables (in the microwave), throw down a couple of slices of [cooked] brisket from Whole Foods, and call it a day.

January 7, 2012

A Couple of CB Stories

I'm not sure if I should post this here or over at

Well, I'm here now.

In a place like CB, if the door to your room is not locked, there is a stream of visitors, mostly unexpected.

During the days Mom was dying, because it was so hot in there, we had the window cracked and left her door open to create a vague cross draft.
Residents felt free to waft in and out, use the bathroom, check out something in the closet, or inform me of some thing or another. It didn't bother her and it only bothered me when they turned the lights on. That was jarring.

One night "Myrtle" (see The Supper Club) came in to discuss some concern. I needed a break so when she asked me to go for a walk, we strolled over to her wing. When we arrived at her room, she invited me in to look at her clothes.
I said her room was lovely. She agreed.
We then examined every sweater in her possession.
"All quality, no crap here", she assured me. We talked about the pattern and the color of each sweater and the hanger it was on.
There was something about boyfriends in there. Something coy and playful and a bit sad.
She complained a little about the puppy Avery's room being very close to hers.
I wish I'd written this earlier because she had some hilarious observations about a few of the other residents that I can't remember now (a month later).
At any rate it was a nice break for me and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing her wardrobe. 

You know the saying "it takes a village [to raise a child]"? That can apply to aging parents too.
I can enjoy Ms. Myrtle because I have no history with her, there's no emotional bomb waiting to go off.
Same with my mom - others could just think she was a hoot and be completely unfazed that she was wearing three dirty tee-shirts.


Friday night after Mom had died, when CP and I came back from our massive prime rib feast to finish loading up the car with crap Mom's stuff, we ran into "Dorothy" (aka The Hummer - see The Supper Club again).
"Hello darlin'", she said, and held her hand out to me.
To the aide, "Are we having supper tonight? Where is everyone? I need to eat somethin'!"
When the aide reminded her that they had already eaten, Dorothy replied rather briskly that she had most certainly had NOT eaten and she needed some food right now.
She was promised some yogurt.
Still holding my hand, Dorothy asked if I would join her. I had to decline on account of moving boxes and
wanting to be done and go home and sleep.
I wish I'd taken five minutes.

I need to go back there a few more times at least. Just to see how some of my peeps are doing.


First cousins

Fifth cousins, twice removed

I'll stop being silly soon enough.
Just you wait.

January 2, 2012

Here's What I Look Like

So you have a point of reference since Blogger is being stupid about my photo.

Cute, aren't I?

Some Things About My Human

Because I am a magical sock monkey hat (MSMH), I am privy to the thoughts in her head - even when I'm not on her head!

It's crazy like that.

She would never tell you this, well not unless alcohol was involved, but she is a published poet. Prize winning too. Yesterday, while going through that box on her closet shelf as part of the new year's purge, she came across her old poems. I have to say, some of them are pretty good. Again, she would never tell you that.

She is wondering what to do now, what with being an orphan after fifteen years of parents who were sick or dying or demented. (there were some free years in there though - she's not Florence Nightingale!)

Stay or move? Where to move? What about work? What about...everything?

She just needs to calm the heck down.

And wait.

She's not real good at that, I can tell you.

That's enough for now. We have plenty of time.

January 1, 2012

Happy New Year

So I'm starting a new blog. The other one [ really about my mom and as the tag line said, the journey through her dementia. 
Now that she's gone, it's not about that any more.

I'm just going to see where this leads me. Fairly sure it will be random. 
And not saying there won't be the odd post or two over there if it has to do with her.

So happy new year, new blog.

And lead on Sock Monkey Hat.