The luckiest monkey in the world

The Old Woman died three and a half, nearly four, years ago.  And, I've pretty much been in a really bad mood since.  Last month, The Old Man was placed in a facility, not too much unlike the lab, for old humans.  It isn't an ideal situation, but it was the best possible option. His health is such that he can't care for himself and refuses to assist family members in caring for him.

I was talking to the oldest child of the Old Folks the other night, and after our conversation I realized how lucky I am that the Old Folks found me/gave me a home.

The Oldest Child characterized the Old Man as the "most emotionally disconnected" person he'd ever met.

My perspective is wholly different.  The Old Man, without a doubt, loves me unconditionally.  He is always happy to see me, and affectionate.  (When he was a bit younger and stronger, would greet me with a hug that would lift me off my feet.)  I have always known that the Old Man was my greatest cheerleader and anything I thought I should try to do, he had complete confidence I could accomplish it.

I'm sad that the children of the Old Man experienced their relationship with him differently.  And, given his advanced age, I suspect there won't ever be a moment when they are able to experience him as I have.

Having the opportunity to realize how much I'm loved as well as reconcile any "difficult" relationships is just one more way I'm the luckiest monkey in the world.

Shocking!

This afternoon, I had the sort of date "old married" types have.  I picked up Phenom after he dropped his car off to get serviced and we went to lunch and stroll around a bit.

It is a beautiful, spring-time-in-the-south day.  I had the windows down, sunglasses on, music blaring, and all was well.  As Phenom sat in my car at the dealership, I turned to him and said "this is the sort of day where we should be allowed to smoke weed."  Good thing Phenom wasn't chewing gum because he would have swallowed it, as unexpected as my comment was.

But, it was true.  The sky was perfect, trees were blooming, it has FINALLY stopped raining.  The only thing that would have made it even better was a slight buzz.

Resolutions

I've posted before that my usual New Year Resolution is to have a hot krispy kreme.

This year, I made the realization that not only did I marry the Old Woman (seriously, the Phenom is more and more like her every year) but also I'm turning into her.

The Old Woman would have fits that we had too much stuff and just start throwing things away.  You'd have to have a keen eye for anything missing and be prepared to dumpster dive to retrieve it.

This year, my resolution is to bring a bit of order to my house and at least once a month throw a way a trash bag o'crap from the house.

I filled up a trash bag o'crap in the bedroom this weekend.  I've also ordered some shelves so I can add a bit more storage to get the clutter under control.

When I start taking Phenom's plate away from him while he's mid-forkful, I'll know I really have turned into the Old Woman for good.

Privileged

My favorite 13 year old is on the cusp of becoming my favorite 14 year old.  Over the last year, it has been fun to see her start to adopt "teenagery" behaviors.  The way she flips her hair, the language, and the semi-permenant state of being non-plused.

Last night, she drew me into a conversation where clearly she wanted help, but didn't want to actually ask for it.  I always take that bait.  It turns out, she has a crush and has decided to do the "ask" for the date.  But, as with any venture of this sort, the thought that it could go very badly had caused her to hesitate.  We discussed the pros and cons.  I encouraged.  I made the rule "no naked selfies."

Tonight, she said she was going to do it.  She was going to make the ask.  Then, there was brief hesitation . . . and then plunging in.  I crossed all my monkey fingers and toes in hopes the object of the crush wouldn't crush her.  BUT! NO! SUCCESS! A DATE IS FORTHCOMING!!!

And, it was wonderful to see my favorite teenager so giddy and excited.  I felt bad that I was getting to share this with her and her parents were in another room. (We do this all online as we live several hundred miles apart.)

I asked what made this person so amazing?  Nearly 14 year old said it would take a whole paragraph to describe.  I asked for the top three.  She said "only three?"  Finally, her top three things that make her like this person are:  1) not afraid to stand up for themselves, 2) likes books and 3) believes in supernatural things.

Not bad for a first crush.  In fact, if I were to try to find someone for Nearly 14 year old to date, these might be characteristics I'd look for too.

I'm just so taken in with how very privileged I am that I got to share this moment with her.  I'm pretty sure this will be one of my all time favorite memories.  I got lucky tonight.

Never say I don't give second chances

Remember when my head exploded over someone's misguided food choices and the Phenom pointed out that the real problem was my food snobbery?

That person is in NOLA right now.  And, I might passively rant in my own home when he eats frozen-from-the-other-side-of-the-planet crab legs during soft-shell season on the NC/SC coast, I can not let him eff up eating in NOLA.  I sent him several options for fine food and drinks ranging across the cost spectrum.

The Phenom has been taunting me all evening with "I bet he's at the IHOP on Canal Street."  Just might be the meanest thing you could say to me.

A nice distraction

So, the anniversary of the deaths of my friend and the Old Woman are coming up.  Well, the anniversary of my friend's death is today, roughly.  Since he committed suicide, we aren't entirely sure of the exact timing.

But, since they died within the same 12 month period and the anniversaries are roughly a month apart, I have this nice, prolonged, funk I get into starting mid-August.  Fun times for everyone around me.

Earlier this month, I received a family heirloom I'd been promised over 20 years ago by the Old Woman: her chiming mantle clock.  Last weekend, I cleared my mantle and set it up.  I love it and find peace when it chimes each quarter hour.  (I give props to the Phenom because I suspect it drives him crazy but he knows enough to say he likes it.)

Last month, I came up with a fairly far-fetched idea and passed it by my friend's father.  He thought there was some merit to it, and has been helping me with some details on his end.  Well, today . . . on the anniversary of my friend's death . . . I have learned that the project is probably going to happen.  In other words, I've been given a packet of very official papers to complete.  I need to double check the dates I was given, but there may be a book in the near future.

This isn't about money . . . I suspect we won't see a dime.  But, this is about keeping his legacy and memory alive.  This is about making sure people don't forget him.  It's about appreciating his talent.

Selfish, again.

Mourning is a long, drawn-out, never-ending process.  Well, for me.

This weekend, I had the rare chance to spend a few hours with the father of my friend who died two years ago this month.  He and I are working on a couple of projects, truth be told, are all about making sure my friend doesn't just disappear.

And, as luck would have it, I happened to also have a conversation with a publisher who is expressing what could just be polite interest, but interest none the less.

Which does leave me feeling just a little like my friend would slap me with a herring if he knew what we were up to.

Where is the line between keeping a legacy alive and violating everything someone stood for?

I'm in a rut

A writing rut.  Which can be a good thing . . . meaning that nothing of much importance or exciting is happening around me right now. And, gees, that's a nice break.

I started this blog 10 years ago because I needed a place to vent.  Well, as with most of life, the cause of my need for venting has disappeared. (YAY) And, then other dramas, mostly of various humans' making cropped up into my idyllic little monkey life.

I nearly allowed someone to take this blog away from me.  Fortunately, I came to my senses.

But, now that I'm in this rut, I find myself wondering what to do about the blog.  Shift focus?  Drum up drama?  Wait for the election cycle to get me all revved up over injustices?

Or, post all cat photos, all the time?

Coming back

I had to be out of town this week on business.  I have long since outgrown being excited over business trips. And, it didn't help that ESK left me, and back in the day, trips with her were always a blast.  We'd make time to do something fun and bonding.  We'd eat adventurous food. It is tremendously difficult to find good traveling companions.

But, apparently, the one who really suffered was The Pirate Jean Lafitte.  Phenom tells me that he would run into the bedroom and look for me, that he'd look for me around the house and cry when he couldn't find me.

When I got home, there was much cooing and cuddling and not letting me too far out of his reach. Plus, there was this:

I suspect he will not be pleased to learn there are three (at least) more excursions, on which he isn't invited, planned this summer.

Spring is coming

It was a weird, long winter.  Even still, our weather hasn't yet given me enough confidence to do the wardrobe switch.  

But, just as you think that it will never turn warm, that the sun will always hide, that it will rain every freakin' day . . . this happens:

And they must be having a great year this year because I swear the bucket was several dollars cheaper than past years.  But, best of all . . . they are the most strawberryish of strawberries.  Sweet, tart, and almost artificial in the burst of strawberry flavor.  One tends to forget what a real strawberry tastes like after having too many store boughts.

Yeah.  The bucket is half empty already.  #noregrets

The Learning Opportunity

So, anyone who has a social media presence at all knows all too well the big fail that was Gwyneth Paltrow's attempt to participate in the $29 food stamp challenge.  I've read several articles, critical, about the situation.  And, we talked about it in our office.

I had several initial thoughts from the photo she posted.  1) It was not enough food for a week of eating,  2) several of her purchases were flavorings and not really foods, 3) girl is gonna get tired of black beans and rice and 4) that's enough food, perhaps, for a weekend but not seven days.

Limes (why so many limes?), cilantro, garlic, a single onion and pepper are more flavorings than food.  I think she was thinking she'd cook up a big pot of beans and rice and create a couple different dishes out of it . . . like a black bean salsa.  Surely that would be why she'd buy one ear of corn, for a salsa?  Right?  And she wasn't planning on multiple meals out of that one sweet potato, right?

I did 5 minutes worth of research and this is how I'd spend my $29 dollars: (I went to a local food store chain and looked up prices.  I am not considering sales tax in my calculations but that is offset by the consideration that the store is considered one of the more expensive food stores in my area.  I'm pretty sure I could get the items cheaper at Wal-mart, thus affording sales tax.)

1 lb dry beans (black beans or pintos) - 1.45
1 lb brown rice (just because it is more nutritious and more filling) - 1.50
1 lb sharp cheddar cheese (block, not pre shredded) -  4.49
1 loaf whole wheat bread - 1.99
Peanut butter - 2.50
2 lbs carrots - 1.89
12 oz apples - 1.50
1 head garlic - 0.59
1 packet taco seasoning - 0.69
36 oz grits - 1.99
3 lbs sweet potatoes - 2.67
8oz butter/canola oil blend - 2.79
bag mixed kale/spinach/greens - 3.00

Here are some of my meal ideas:

• beans and rice bowl topped with some chopped greens and a little cheese
• cook 1/2 sweet potato/handful kale/a couple of carrots together, serve with grits 
• rice with spoonful of butter, diced apple 
• peanut butter and apple sandwich
• roll out a couple slices of bread to make "tortillas" and create a sweet potato and black bean burrito with taco seasoning/garlic
• Salad of greens with slices of cold grits fried polenta style with carrots, apple, and cheese.
• Cook an apple and sweet potato together to make a "butter" and have it with either toast or          PB/apple/sweet potato sandwich serve with carrot sticks and slice of cheese
• Mash black beans with taco seasoning and spread it on toast with greens
• saute greens with butter and garlic, serve with grits and cheese

Of course, there are straight up PB sandwiches and grits with butter and cheese.  For a treat, grate some of the cheese and make a grilled cheese sammy.

I will admit that there are more carbs in this menu/list than I would normally buy.  Doing this list immediately made me long for the farmer's market in town.  I would trade store bought apples/sweet potatoes/bagged greens for cukes/squash/eggplant/peppers and onion in a heart beat.

But, I could feed myself on this for a week.  I would have some food left over (3 lbs of grits?!)  But, I would have some variety, some protein, and learn to appreciate the sweetness of carrots, apples, and peanut butter.

I did originally have oatmeal on the list.  But, I felt that grits could be used as a breakfast as well as dinner carb, and I didn't want to buy milk for oatmeal.

The decision to purchase no canned foods (other than PB) and meat was intentional.  I feel that the nutritional value of fresh produce outweighs the increased volume from buying canned veggies.  Also, although I am not a vegetarian, I have no problem eating vegetarian for long periods of time and meat is so very expensive.

I wonder if I could increase the budget to $60 and feed myself and the Phenom on it just to see how it would work?  He's pretty tied to junk food.  Maybe I propose it to him and see if he's game rather than springing it on him.  The lack of twinkies (apparently the chocolate covered ones are the best thing ever) or coke products or chips might create some form of adverse reaction.  $60 would allow for coffee.  We could not do this if the phenom could not have coffee.  And, I'd want to do it when I could shop at the farmer's market.  Our farmer's market takes WIC and SNAP recipients can get vouchers for the market upon request.

HOWEVER, even as I write this, I'm totally aware that I will have the luxury of a car to get from market to store, I have adequate storage and cooking facilities, and the time to plan for this to be a ONE time event in our lives.  Which kinda makes me as bad as Gwyneth, doesn't it?

For Tom

I have just finished reading a book put together by the Grad Student.  This book contains the journals of his son, my adoptive brother, before his final rehab, during the final rehab, and afterwards.  It ends with his suicide note and memorials left on his facebook page.

I'm in tears, huffing and sniffling, as I type this.

He was my first friend.  I still idolize him . . . even though I know his faults.  I still insist that the world see him as I did.  I want people to understand his intelligence and natural kindness.  I want them to understand that his flaws weren't his fault.  I want them to be in awe of his talent.  Even though he was eaten alive by shame and guilt and anger. . . so much anger . . . I love him.  I don't know if he ever was kind enough to himself to absorb that he was loved.

This week, I've been visiting the Grad Student.  It has been a nice limbo of being in-between adulthood and moments of carefree childhood.  Today we dressed up and went to see the Oregon Symphony and dance performance (pretty girls in pretty dresses twirling on stage) and went to a fancy restaurant after .  .  . but I could order a boozy drink.  But, we have also tried to make peace with the past.  We have tried to reason why we have arrived at the place we are now .  .  . one man short.

Pondering

A milestone date is coming up.  It is the birthday of the friend who died about a year and a half ago.  I was lucky to be able to spend his last birthday with him, but that also makes all subsequent birthdays more emotional for me.

This evening, I was contacted by one of his relatives.  She apologized because she only learned of his death several months after the fact and feels guilty that she wasn't able to "be there" for his family/loved ones.  She's asked for more information about his death.

This is a person I've known for many years, and most of them, I had most unpleasant opinions of her.  (She's not a terribly nice person, but she's had her own miseries in life.)  She's recently tried to be pleasant to me, which on one hand is nice but on the other tweaks my natural paranoia.  

So, do I fill her in on my friend's death?  Do I decide that she knows enough?  Do I dredge it all up, right when I'm already being mopey about it?  Do I take the opportunity to receive comfort when I need it?  

Sigh.

You just never know

when you will influence someone.

I contacted Frances of the previous story to share the story with her.  Her response was "who the heck was Deb?"  She had no memory of the conversation, but appreciated my sharing.

Reminds me of another story.  Shortly after the Old Folks decided I could pass in public school, I had a teacher who required daily journal entries.  Often, she would offer a writing prompt.  One time, the prompt was something we wanted to learn to do, and what was preventing us from doing it.

I wrote that I really wanted to learn to cook, but I didn't want to be defined by my domestic skills.  I had the buddings of being a feminist and already understood that society was all too happy to pin a single role onto the females.

My teacher wrote on my page that cooking was a wonderful creative outlet, and I shouldn't let what others say prevent me from expressing myself.

Even now, when I make something particularly good, I always think of this teacher.   Several years ago, I managed to find her and write to her about the lasting influence her words had on my life.  She had no recollection of it at all.

Take care with your words and actions because you never know when they will be deeply influential to another.

And they say monkeys can't cry

(it's a fact, we don't make tears.)

But, I'm definitely tearing up today.

25 years ago, I was a senior in college and doing an internship.  One morning, I sat in on a meeting with my on-campus supervisor and my internship site supervisor (Deb and Frances, respectively).  During the course of the meeting, Deb and Frances realized that they knew each others partners, but had never had the opportunity to meet each other, until that moment.

Witnessing this conversations has been one of the most influential moments in my life.  At the time, I was head over monkey-tail in love with the Phenom and didn't stop talking about him, our fun, our plans for the future, etc.  While Deb and Frances talked, I realized that they were using very vague and gender neutral terms to refer to their partners.  I felt horrible.  I realized that, as lesbians, they had to be on guard when talking about the loves of their lives.  Where I could chatter on like a silly little, brainless thing . . . they had to worry that they might accidentally reveal too much about themselves to the wrong audience and there was a very real threat in such a slip.

I have often thought of this moment.  I have referenced this moment, along with other examples, when making the case for why we need to confront homophobia, hate crimes against LGBTQ persons, and why marriage should be available to all people.

Today, Frances got married.  The right for her to marry has only recently been available to her.  And I couldn't be happier.  I might even produce the first ever monkey tears of joy.

How I know You Love Me

I had two moments of being reminded that I'm loved yesterday.

First, I was chatting with a friend who I consider family (and she considers me family as well).  You know we're both "grown up" because we spend way too much time talking about our various ailments and doctor appointments.  I mentioned that my doctor was troubled by recent tests and is sending me to see a specialist.  (joy.)  Her immediate reaction was to offer up one of her internal organs for transplant.  Or bone marrow, if that's needed.  She didn't think so, but just in case.

Second, while watching our Tuesday night appointment television, a commercial came on for the Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day movie.  I looked at the Phenom and said "THEY RUINED IT!!"  The Phenom said he'd known about the movie for a couple of months now and had tried to shield me from learning about it.  He knew I wouldn't be happy.  I love that book.  Almost as much as I love The Monster at the End of This Book.

I'm feeling the love . . . even if I'd rather not take your organs or will boycott a movie on principal.

Youtube of Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

I kinda asked for this.

This is the Pirate Jean Lafitte.  He is the only surviving kitten from a litter a stray dropped under one of our azalea bushes.  The Phenom has a thing for black and white cats.  When this one survived, I thought Phenom would have real difficulty not bringing it indoors.  As it turns out, I'm the weak link.  Saturday morning, as I was giving him his morning scritch, I decided I didn't want this little dude to end up like some of the other male cats that occasionally come to our back door for food . . . fights, injuries, etc.  So, to the vet we went.

I've named him the Pirate Jean Lafitte.  And, when you name a kitten after a pirate, you kinda get what you are asking for.  This little dude has some serious cat crazies.  He LOVES attacking my fingers as I type on the computer.  He thinks the computer mouse is his mortal enemy, and he must smack at the images on the computer screen.

He likes running at top speed around the bathroom/bedroom (he's in temporary isolation from the other cats).  He and Phenom play "hide and pounce."  He has a most impressive crab walk while playing with the Phenom.

While I was sick, I often thought it would be nice to have a kitten to keep me company/amused during those weeks in bed.  Now that I'm better, I've brought in a kitten.  Good thing, it would have been too much to have this crazy little critter around the wound vac or the other various tubes/pouches/medications.

A friend, who also loves black and white kitties, has expressed an interest in him.  On one hand, I'm happy to think he might end up in a really excellent household with just two other kitties . . . but already, Phenom is showing signs of deep attachment.

Thoughts on the Tattoo

There are some cathartic events that you know it, you feel it as it is happening.  Like getting married.  Or attending the funeral of a loved one.

The tattoo has been slower in developing meaning.

I'd joked about getting a tattoo for years.  A couple of years ago, there was a half-hearted attempt to acquire one.  Then, last winter, when it was decided that my Bestie would be joining us in NOLA in June, the conversation got serious.  We both agreed we were into the tattoo.  We found the place we wanted to do it, and worked on our designs.

I, originally, had asked my oldest friend in the world to design one for me.  But, then he killed himself.  I poured through his artwork to see if I could find something usable.  Nada.  Then, one night, at the end of yoga, I envisioned a lotus flower.  Later, the same evening, a friend asked me for a recipe.  I consulted the Southeast Asian cookbook I'd inherited from my friend.  Stuck in the book, which I know to have been his "go to" cookbook, was a drawing he was using as a bookmark.  In the center of his drawing was a lotus flower.

The tattoo place said they'd have to make it HUGE in order to insure the detail would come out properly.  Much too large for what I was looking for.  So, it seemed I might not get a tattoo after all.  Then, as I gathered my friend's letters for his father, who is working on a collection of writings/art in memory of his son, I found a letter with doodles in it.  And, that's how I settled on the design.

The tattoo was more painful than I expected.  I didn't jerk my arm or cry, but there were moments when I gritted my teeth and wondered if it were worth it.

It is nearly healed now, and settling into becoming a part of me.  Like the way my friend will always be a part of me.

Let's face it.  Since my 40th birthday, it's been a long, painful march through crappy situation after crappy situation.  I learned that a person I thought of as a dear friend was everything but a friend.  I've had to watch the Old Woman struggle with the end of her life.  I've experienced the death of two of the most important people in my life.  And, I've had this bizarro medical journey with multiple hospital stays and surgeries.  I need a bookend to these years of crap.  I hope that this tattoo will become symbolic of what I've survived, and that the pendulum will swing back to the quiet, drama free life I once knew.

That is a lot to pin on 30 minutes of gritted teeth and a bit of ink.  But, humans are kinda silly in what they put their faith in, no?

In memory

Several years ago, when the Bestie and I first came to NOLA together, we decided to get tattoos.  At the time, we were a tad drunk and it was the middle of the night.  I couldn't find a design I liked in their catalog and she wanted custom work they wouldn't do on the fly.

Fast forward, and we still wanted tattoos on this trip.  Only, this time, I'd asked my dear friend to design something for me.  Sadly, my friend died last year before fulfilling this promise.  I went through pages and pages and pages of his art work, looking for something usable.  Then, I found a piece of a larger design that had some "it came from beyond" attachments to it.  But, the tattoo place we'd picked out said they could only do the design HUGE . . . like wrapped around my arm.

I was ready to forgo the tat, until I found a doodle in a letter he sent me about a year before he died.  (Yeah, we still wrote old fashioned letters to each other, we're cool like that.)

Here is my new tattoo:

(Notice the really excellent shave job on my arm?  Totally human like.)

Right now, it's in "recovery" but it will soon just be a part of me . . . like my friend.

The Journey

I have a friend who is walking across America.  He's on the American Discovery Trail, which I didn't know existed until he took off.  He started in March on the east coast.  He camped in snow.  He has dealt with thunderstorms and freezing weather and heat.  Some nights, he stays in inexpensive hotels, others he camps.  He isn't wearing headphones, he has a phone and some form of computer with him, because he posts to a blog nightly.  He clearly is using apps to check weather and navigate.  (Which makes me wonder how people did it before smart phones.)  He had planned on taking 9 months to complete the trip, but personal circumstances have caused him to bump up his time line and attempt to finish in 7 months.

This week, he hit the "half way" point.  Although, as he nears the Rocky Mountains, I suspect his pace will slow quite a bit.  He has mentioned, in his blog, that the further west he goes, the more nights camping he will have.  I'm concerned about him getting enough food and water.  Carrying large quantities of water is difficult, as it adds tremendous weight to his pack.

Reading his blog, what I am most struck by (and he seems to be as well) is how tremendously kind and generous everyone is to him.  He is a vet, and isn't afraid to identify himself as such, which I think probably helps.  He's also older, mature . . . so not some hippie kid shirking their responsibilities on the bank of mom and dad.  He has an open and kind and calm demeanor.  All of which, I think, helps people respond in kind.

Nearly daily, someone pulls over on the road to offer him water or food or a place to rest.  He has had wonderful conversations with people from all walks of life: from folks hanging out in East St. Louis to elderly women tending their gardens.  He even had a homeless person give him $2 because the guy thought my friend was also homeless.  He tried to refuse it and the homeless guy told him to not question a person's freely offered generosity.  A great life lesson, to be sure.  He has asked to camp in people's yards and been greeted with dinner and hot coffee brought to his tent in the morning.  In fact, the only hassle he's faced is from the state troopers who stop him about once a week to check his ID and want to know his particulars.

In a time when we are bombarded with messages of how much danger lurks just beyond our finger tips, it is refreshing to see that someone could walk half way across America and have only good interactions with the people he encounters along the way.