Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Creation

There's so much to write! Where to begin?

The thoughts are swarming in my head like bees; creating a cloud so thick, it's damn near impossible for me to get any words to come through; anything sounding somewhat interesting and melodic to write escapes me in most moments through the day. I enjoy watching the swarm, but really, all I want to do is understand it.

This has been one of the worst menstruation periods I've had in many many many months! A 3-day grump-fest paired with hemorrhoids (I thought only pregnant women got those!!!) on Spring Break, having to entertain two children 24/7 while keeping the house clean until our housing inspection...needless to say, I've uttered the "F" word more times than should be legal. And while most my family and friends have gotten the hint to duck and stay low, that loving partner of mine still has the knowing capability to wrap his skinny hippy arms around my pathetic frame, kiss me and then tells me, "shut up, it's all because of that damn Super Moon."

BTW: I love Rush; can't really get over that, and I don't think I ever will. I love that as I write this, that skinny hippy guy I mentioned earlier is down in the garage cleaning to "Closer to the Heart." My gosh, how lucky can I be? Honestly, as a girl the only requirements of my dream guy would be he had to have long hair, a big nose and must LOVE Rush. Check, check and check!

Been reading a book by Heather B. Armstrong "It sucked, then I cried." She writes the Dooce.com blog, a deliciously weird, totally-awe-inspiring mommy blog that a freak like me can savor in. I swear, I have NEVER laughed so hard, with each turn of the page, a new line or plot to the story told in her completely uninhibited blunt and honest potty-humor style. Love it! The story is really about how she had a breakdown from Postpartum Depression, something I also suffered from, and her recovery back to a somewhat better life. Reading her stories brought me back to my memories with my babies; my first, the disaster that was me and Jesse trying to fumble our way in the dark with our hands tied behind our backs; and my second, this time fumbling with a floodlight on (a little bit better!). If you love Margaret Cho, Ren & Stimpy and Radiohead, definitely check out her book.

Today, grumpy bitch Mommy went on a little drive to get some perspective, course at the time, I didn't realize that's what I was doing. After dropping off Monster #1 at the M-I-L's, I drove towards town's Safeway when I saw a friend hitchhiking and thought, "FUCK!!! How can I possibly drive by him and NOT pick him up????" So, there I am, almost running his stupid ass over, in he gets and needs a ride to Monte Rio; ok, wasn't planning on going THAT far, but whatever, I've got no gas, you've got no money, let's fucking go for it! It means I don't have to go home right away!

After dropping him off, I felt it necessary to stop by my OG's house for a change; course she's not there, but of course, my beloved Uncle Dennis (UD) lives there, too, so how could I NOT say hi? In I go and out I come 2 hours later, feeling slightly lighter and yet sadder.

Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE old people? Ok, I fucking LOVE old people; they're hilarious 'cause they don't give a shit about the things that come out of their mouth (and I've heard some pretty raunchy, amazing shit spewing from those gummy mouths), their old so they know EVERYTHING, and they have an endless supply of candy.

So now, while UD isn't old by normal standards, he is in the sense of his health, having been surviving from HIV for over 20 years. Today, we talked and talked and talked (or, really I just listened, 'cause he really wanted to tell me his story) and it dawned on me: My god! He's going to be gone! And I'm not going to remember these stories!!! They'll be gone with him! Just like Grandpa Chet's!

I've not often asked people who are dying of a debilitating disease how much longer they think they have, but there it came, flying out of my mouth before I even had the chance to stop it, examine it and stick it behind my ear for a while. He didn't seem all too stunned, but was certainly surprised by the level of intimacy it brought our conversation, and to me, I had sounded like my main purpose of asking was so I can make my plans accordingly. He answered about 5 years; 5 years! I've known him for 8 years! Jesse and I fell spent our first night together on UD's floor (where his dog, Spike, peed on our feet as we slept=thanks Spike!); UD, he's such a messed up, beautiful human being! And we only get him for another 5 years?! The cogs in my head have been spinning ever since.

Last week, I sat in the waiting room of the counseling/dental clinic in town, awaiting my counselor to pop her little fro-head around the corner and whisper my name. I read a magazine (no idea what the rag was called!!!) as I waited and came across an article about women entrepreneurs and the story of one struck me. She started an Oral History business; not only have I been wanting to do oral histories for the sake of preservation, I've also been considering furthering my writing skills and hopefully developing them into some sort of measurable career. My conversation today with UD struck a cord in me; he is inspiring me to begin this path, and I find it more than appropriate that it start with him.

Three days ago, my friend Cris gave birth to her baby girl Willow and yesterday I got to visit and have some squishy-baby time. Honestly, kinda freaking me out, 'cause this is the first time in 5 years that I've held a baby and HAVEN'T felt like "Wow, I'm SOOOO glad I don't have to do this!" In fact, today, I was over there helping jump their vehicle and was secretly crushed when they didn't ask me to hold the baby...omg! NO! I do NOT want to go through that again!!! But shit! Maybe MAAAAYBE one more after 2012??? Fuck....stupid clock, why don't you just BREAK now?!! Not to mention, having one right now would be completely irresponsible; but the thought it kinda fun to play with. I've got 6 more years on my IUD, so maybe by then, who knows?

Crazy. Shit. Life.

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