Too Many Books

My grandmother's funeral was beautiful, personal and heart-wrenching. Writing  the obit  was an honor, and I was happy to have my mom, dad and sister all add some details and thoughts I wouldn't have come up with on my own. My grandma looked wonderful and at peace- she looked twenty or more years younger, like the Mamaw we remembered. Pretty skin, eyes that weren't red and swollen, those same loving little hands folded at rest. My family and I did a splendid job selecting and setting up a slew of memorabilia. And during the service, my sister and I each had one of our mom's cousins read some memories we'd each written about our Mamaw and our favorite times with her and what she meant to us. At the graveside, my Mom planned to stay as the casket was lowered into the ground, but there was some mechanical issue and they were having a hard time getting it to steadily and easily descend. We were all #facepalm about it. But then we laughed a little - after wat

I went to see Hamilton in Louisville earlier this year. Tonight, I can't get that song out of my head. You know -- "The Room Where It Happened." Have you ever been in The Room When It Happened? I hadn't. My grandmother died Monday, 9/9/19 at 5:01 pm in front of my Mom, Dad, my sister, and me. Just the five of us, in the room where it happened. Until after that split second when only four of us remained. A little backstory. Mamaw moved out of her Bloomington, Indiana duplex of her own accord, and sold her Chevy Lumina to opt for Assisted Living back in 2007 or 2008. Maybe she just knew she'd live a good long life and need the extra care. The dementia started up at some point after that. By September 2018 she'd been through hernia surgery, hip replacements, and I don't even remember what else. But on the 15th of that month last year, she had a UTI and a 103 degree fever. She fell out of her own bed, was septic or nearly septic. Bloomington Hosp

My grandmother will probably die today. I've been saying that all day. I've been saying that since Friday. (She's worse off than my dog, who I was so worried about Thursday night.) Mammaw lived in Assisted Living in Bloomington, Indiana for over a decade until last September. A high fever (103) and a UTI caused her to go almost septic and fall out of bed. She spent some time in a hospital and a rehab facility in Bloomington until I helped my mom decide it was time to move her to a nursing home in Louisville, Kentucky, so that mom and I  mom could go see her daily instead of monthly. I usually went to see her on Sundays to give my mom a day a home. Though Mom still made me Facetime her. Mammaw couldn't walk or get herself in and out of bed anymore by October of last year. And, her dementia was as bad as ever, and getting worse. She may have not known what year it was or remembered what state she'd moved to, but she knew who we were. She could laugh. She could

From the inspirational-ish, thought provoking journal I read only intermittently (this entry was dated January 18th) I give you the following: Today, I will be grateful. I will start the process of turning today's pain into tomorrow's joy. There was so much good today, but there was pain tonight. I thought my dog was dying. Well, my dog is dying - but she did not die tonight. We did not choose that for her tonight. I do have gratitude. She has been with me for 16 years of my adult life. I've lived with her longer than any other being , considering I didn't have the capacity for rational thought or memory until age 3 with my own mother. So, I can recall less time under her roof than I can with my sweet Carson under mine. She was with me when I still lived in an apartment, over 15 years ago. She came along into a new house that we made into a home, somehow. She was here when Stella joined us, watched her crib like a hawk and endured her aggressive, tugging, todd

I had my first "Fully Intend to Go Back for More" therapy session yesterday morning. She won't give me homework until my next visit, so I'm creating my own. I talked a lot about using writing as my own form of therapy over the last 15 years. (Not an uncommon strategy, I know.) She asked me, "What else have you used that's been therapeutic?" My immediate answer: alcohol. We had some dialogue about that, and self-meditating in general. Now, I thought I'd share some things that I find therapeutic, in addition to other than getting boozed up: 1. Reading. It's escapism. 2. Sunshine/ sitting by a pool or ocean, or even just in my own backyard 3. Hot Tub Time 4. Sex 5. Food - treating myself to a nice dinner. 6. Playing poker - escapism and the art of beating other humans/ winning money. 7. Music - whether it's proper karaoke or just singing along in my car. 8. Indiana basketball/ in person or televised games/ annual song parodi

My sweet mom always refers to the work day after a Federal Holiday as a "Monday Tuesday." You know. Your brain logically knows the day of the week is Tuesday but it feels like a Monday. Particularly if you work in a bank like she does. Some people had been overdrawn since 4:00 a.m. Sunday, and were chomping at the bit to get in to discuss it with the bank manager pronto this morning. I'm assuming. In some ways, today has been a "Monday Tuesday" for me. Well, really just in one way. I sneezed a little bit ago and my assistant blessed me. I immediately had to tell her, "Definitely just peed right then, more than a little." And went to the ladies room to blow my nose and assess the damage. It wasn't pretty. But, it'll dry. I'll survive. It's just a face palm, though. My gyno keeps telling me I should try pelvic floor therapy, but I want to tell her where to go  that my pelvic floor and all my areas are "strong like bu

I always adored my teachers. (Well, a good percentage of them. A few were total hacks and didn't deserve my admiration.) A good handful are my friends today via social media and a select few are nearly soulmates for me in this life. My fifth grade teacher loves the Oklahoma Sooners and now, in retirement, bakes fancy cakes. A high school drama teacher is still teaching after he tried to stop for a minute. I think he's in his 43rd year. He's so wonderful at it. I know he's slowing down. Hopefully his students understand that they are fortunate to have him. Another high school teacher, one I actually never had, now runs a restaurant and a food truck. He's such an interesting human with unique insights. I enjoy talking to him over beers for me and soda water for him. Then, there's my psychology teacher from senior year. I'd always vaguely stayed informed about her life via facebook, and I held her dear in my heart. I can still remember where I sat in he

1. He's super tall. like a tree trunk of a man, in the very best way. 2. He said it should be on everyone's bucket list to see me at an Indiana game. 3. When we'd been talking for like two weeks, he further stated, "not to get embarrassingly ahead of myself, but I noticed that IU is playing UConn in NYC in December. We should go."    3a. He was not embarrassingly ahead of himself or, ahead of himself in any way at all. 4. He once got in trouble, kinda, for singing Easy Like Sunday Morning to a crowded lobby at a Red Lobster in Mobile, Alabama, and there is really not a better story to be told by anyone, ever. 5. He's going to give me a golfing lesson and says we'll have a hands on approach. Wink. (He didn't say "wink" though. That was all me.) 6. Regarding us both being 35+ and still/ currently single he said, and I quote, "in my limited knowledge of country music, god bless the broken road."    6a. i mean i was basicall

Sadly, dinner with 2002 College Prof Extraordinaire became the dinner that wasn't when her otherwise lovely (I'm assuming) husband put a wrench in our plans by getting stones in his kidneys. And needing surgery and a wife to be there for it. In the words of Stephanie Tanner, how rude! Not to worry, Internet. We've rescheduled and are on for our first available (kid free for me) joint date to take place on Monday, September 9th. Last time we said wild horses couldn't keep us away, but apparently kidney stones > wild horses. Incidentally, there was a date that didn't work for either of us because we both have haircuts scheduled. I mean, if she isn't my girl soulmate I don't know who is. (I use the qualifier because I just found my Boy Soulmate and I wouldn't want him to be offended. He wouldn't be offended, because of the whole soulmate thing, but you know , I'm just being thoughtful. Or, you might not know. Do you have soulmates? This is

Lunch Hour Thoughts I have essentially stopped taking a lunch hour. Having the autonomy in my job to be able to make this choice and a) come in later b) work through lunch and c) still have a couple of moments where I smoke cigarette s decompress for ten minutes is amazing. Plus, I've been intermittently fasting (it's all the rage) since apparently the way I operate is as follows: if I'm forced to make a lunch choice, I'm better at choosing to forego lunch than I am opting for the healthy nutrition. I eat plenty at dinner, so don't worry, kthanx. Requests I understand that I have a readership of like zero because of that one time I went on blogging hiatus for a decade, which happened about a decade ago, but just thought I'd ask: Anyone have good sleep deprivation stories? I'm doing research on the mental, emotional and physical reactions that occur in ones mind and body when a human being hasn't slept (much or at all) for numerous, consecutive

So, guys - I'm back. Like, with a capital B. Back. And I'm writing again. I started reading my own blog again like I constantly do  occasionally do from time to time. I was relaxing by a Florida pool last month and I just started looking back at some writing posts and GUESS what, y'all?! I always struggled with how to put my book together and I totally figured it out in a blog post like 7 years ago. The thing was, I just wasn't ready to write it back then. I'm ready now. Because, as I told Stella when she was still the size of a split pea, One day mommy's going to write a book and it's going to put you through college.  One day has arrived. I've gone so far as to engage my creative writing professor from 2002... 2000 fucking TWO. She remembered me guys! *pats self on back* And she's read my prologue! And she adored it and said, loose quote, "I've read some over hyped thrillers lately and this gripped me more than those." And she

*written awhile ago... didn't finish the story and it's more sequel/ book 2 material anyway He bought tickets for an Indiana basketball game to celebrate my early March birthday - anyone who knows me knows that taking me to an IU game is pretty much locking it down. The game was the perfect scenario - a home game in Bloomington, against Ohio State, and ON my actual birthday. I worked out child care for Stella. My parents were heading to Btown on Saturday the 1st to visit my grandma. Mr. Wonderful could drive us up there Saturday, too. We'd visit with the family and then mom and dad would drive Stella back to Louisville with them. Mr. W and I could get a hotel, and spend the night in Btown. I'd wake up to him on my birthday, and then we'd hit the game that afternoon. The night before, he was out for karaoke with his roommate, and seemed to have had more drinks than usual based on the random photos and facebook messages they kept sending. This fun turned into a