October 27, 2012

Fighting words

"The front door's open.  You don't have to make a scene."

October 24, 2012

Sergeant Pepper Taught the Band to Play

Twenty years ago today.  Can you believe it?  I don't feel old enough to have fallen in love for the first time twenty years ago today.

October 24, 1992.  It feels like the day life as I know it began.  Thank you for that.  They are happy memories for me.

October 23, 2012

A tube is a tube is a tube

A: Can you run out and get me a tube of Orajel? We're almost out and I'm starting to freak out.

I: (picks up a tube of Desitin diaper cream) Can't you just use this?

A: That's for her butt.

I: (Looks at tube again, shrugs) Okay.

October 18, 2012

By way of explanation

I:  What's wrong with that girl?  Is she right in the head?

A:  She's from Indiana.

I:  Ah, okay. That explains it.

October 17, 2012

Cut short

Ivan and Sophia drove to San Jose to spend two nights at his mother's house.  Sophie's "nana."  I stayed behind.  The prospect of a couple nights to myself to sleep and do nothing were nearly too much to contemplate, and I looked forward to it for days.

I cried when they left yesterday. As Ivan was loading the car I sat and talked to Sophie. As I told her how much mama would miss her, the images flashed through my mind. The wrecked cars, the flashing lights and sirens. The passersby who stare at the wreckage in the median as they pass, eager to get where they're going. The phone call that would take them both away from me.

But I gritted my teeth and persevered!  I had packed her bags.  I had packed her meals.  I knew she was in good hands.

And the first night was blissful.  After several hours in the company of a friend and a plethora of champagne. I drifted in and out of sleep at will for hours and hours.  I haven't gotten dressed.  Haven't cleaned or put anything away.  Hell, I'm drinking the rest of last night's champagne out of the bottle next to my cup of coffee.  


Anyway, Sophia's father, whom I'm too peeved at to call by name this very second, called. "Do you miss me?" he asked. 

"I miss you both," I replied, because she is really the one I miss and I was trying to be diplomatic.

"Well, great! Because we are coming home tonight!" he exclaimed, waiting for my display of enthusiasm.

I felt tricked. My voice was flat. "You're what?"

"Tonight. We're coming back tonight. We should be there by 8:00."

"Don't come back tonight." My voice was quiet and near pleading.

"Well, now I'm DEFINITELY coming back tonight," he said grouchily.

Turns out that they are having a lovely visit and Sophia is being a model child, but she woke him up at 4:30 am. He changed and fed her, but then she WANTED TO PLAY. Why would a baby want to play at 4:30 in the morning? Ivan asked himself. And if I have to stay up with her, how am I going to get any sleep? His poor sleep deprived brain wondered. When she woke him up again at 7 am, he suddenly realized the answer. Take her home to her mother! Ivan can't possibly risk not getting 8 hours of sleep a second night in a row--and besides, that lazy bitch already had her night off!--so we drive back home to Concord so mama can take over and papa can go to bed.

Voila! Problem solved.

October 10, 2012

Room for me in your internal world

I found the poem we both forgot you wrote for me.

Sometimes I wish
I could sink deep down
into you
into your subconscious
and touch those parts of you
that bring tears to your eyes
and flight to your heart

I never feel as close to you
as when you are scared

October 9, 2012

"Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do."

I see the things he posts and he is still the same. Still exactly the same. And it makes me  miss him. I read his rants and random declarations and imagine how I would respond. I generally imagine his retort and find myself laughing. Even though nothing actually happened.

I miss the long nights we sat and talked and drank for hours. And sometimes we just drank. He knew when to hug me, when to change the music, and when to make a giant farting sound with his mouth.

I am missing my friend terribly.

Ah, Scott. Fuck.