Covid didn’t last THAT long, fyi.

I am all better now, even from the lingering lethargy and cough.

Also- please note that the last post was midday on my birthday and my daughters did it up big for me that evening and got me flowers, tres leche cake (I did NOT Covid blow out the candles, fyi) and taught themselves the song my husband used to play me and then serenaded me with it. My oldest had also special ordered me the Quench sour gum my husband always got me and gave me that too. These kids, man. So good, you know?

Now, to go back farther than that- y’all wanna hear how the teacup appraisal thing went at the local teashop?

It went really well! I didn’t have anyone there for the first 20 minutes, so that was a bit worrisome, but soon people started trickling in. Most expensive one was worth about $200, and the least expensive one was worth negative $5 as they had to pay me money to look at that hideous thing. (I kid. kinda) Upper left in the pictures. Are those grey, drooping/dying roses on fucking BAMBOO stems? Why yes. Yes they are. May god have mercy on your soul, teacup.

Anyway- it was good. Like, I got up, got dressed up, should have done my hair, and talked to quite a few people. And it was fun in a weird, but okay way.

Also, somewhere in there, either because of that event or in combination with it and all the forcing myself to get up and out and about to other things in August I’ve made myself do (I WONDER how I caught Covid- tis a mystery)… I started wanting to live again.

This is something I kinda stopped trying to explain to folks as wow does your brother or aunt really not want to hear that you low-key are just waiting around to die. Wanting to die and being okay with dying are (one) two different things. And (two) should really be written about more in regard to grief. Like I was pretty ready, for myself, to wrap this whole shit up, you know? (You may not, in fact, know, I don’t know.) I didn’t want to leave the girls and they still need me, but it was (looking back) kinda a dark time. Nothing brought me joy- that was the worst part. Life was a sea of emotionless drifting, there for a while.

And you know- I was SUCH a happy person in the before time. Our lives were happy. We laughed and loved and lived every goddamn day. I used to joke about the “Live, Laugh, Love” signs so many people had up in their houses. I didn’t need a reminder on my wall to do those things! I used to say I needed a “Laundry, Dishes, Mopping” sign to remind me to do those things.

My house is clean now. I don’t need those signs anymore. I might need the “live, laugh, love” one though, to remind me of the things not getting done much. (Obviously not, because I’m snobby like that, you know what I mean?) But it kinda breaks my heart that before I used to complain about the house always being kinda messy, and yet now its so clean. I have time to clean now. And it breaks my heart. But at least… the house is clean, I guess? There are two less people living here to make messes too so I guess that makes it easier. Anyway.

SO, that was a depressing detour to the destination of: I am kinda through some of that (for now). I’ve decided to live and not just drag my way through existence. I can find joy in things again too. Not all things, and not all the times… but I can get there. And I can try new things and I don’t feel guilt about any of it.

I actually haven’t felt much guilt this whole time- is that weird? Like I know Lucas is RIGHT here and supporting me through every choice I make to get me through grief. None of those things are without him, so I don’t feel guilty that he’s missing out.

I said about our relationship, back in the day, that I would have ridden around on him like a backpack, if I could, just so I got to spend every second of every day with him. But I guess he is the one who gets to play backpack, now. And so I always have him around. Is that psychosis or lovely? Little bit of both? What about if I tell you I apologize, out loud, and move my purse to the floorboard when I realize it’s in the passenger seat and I need to make room for him? Too much? Cute? Cutely too much? Fuck if I know but I do it, instinctively, just in case. Anyway. My POINT (through yet another detour here) is that I’m okayish with change and new experiences without guilt.

Doesn’t mean they don’t make me sad, though. There is a difference. Like, while school shopping with my 15 year old I found some towels I liked and picked them up. They’re just some stupid towels with cheetahs on them- I kinda found them funny, and I liked the colors and so I picked them up. Why the hell not, they’re just towels, you know?

(wait. Are those leopards?! Not the point here though)

I then had to take to my bed like it was the Victorian era for like a full day.

It hit me I just made a design choice and didn’t even have to take anyone else into consideration on if they would like them. That was awful. Like… just awful. I was explaining it to my screenwriter friend (I have some cool ass friends) and she was struck by how different such a a similar experience could be. That after her divorce the fact that she could buy the towels she wanted without having to take anyone else into consideration was an amazing thing. Freedom for her looked like sorrow to me- it is actually kinda interesting.

It’s the unexpected things like that that cut me to the bone. You can gird yourself up for the expected hard things (my oldest’s first day of college, etc) but the small things like cheetah/leopard towels? Ugh. right through the heart. (I only got the print on hand towels, by the way, I got solid green for the bath towels. I’m not a monster.)

Anyway. So I’m spending money like it grows on trees and I’ll ramp that back here… soon. Ish. I was talking to my therapist about it and she said it does make sense as I am getting dopamine hits where I can get them currently. (Thanks that helps, here is your $85, see you next week.)

I also don’t feel guilty about the plethora of purchases. Ish. That part I’m JUST about ready to start getting responsible around again. But right now it’s like I’m training myself with treats. You got all the dentist appointments done AND the new orthodontic appointments made and deposits down? I’m so proud of you, have a Brahmin purse. You paid off the truck, got it a new windshield as the old one was cracked, got it inspected, and did all the insurance stuff because your oldest got in a fender bender the DAY the windshield was replaced? Someone deserves a hammock and hammock stand for the back deck.

It’s like that.

I also threw together a new gallery wall in my bedroom. I did this with reckless abandon, 15 minutes, all art I had already, and no plan. And yet I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out. I still have some slight tweaking on the spacing, but I never minded a few extra holes in the wall before, and sure don’t now, either.

It’ll do. That long artwork piece was the only thing on that wall for a while and it really needed more for the space. It is a soundbar to the first few lines of “That’s How Strong My Love is” by Otis Redding- our wedding song.

If I was the sun way up there

I’d go with love most everywhere

I’ll be the moon when the sun goes down

Just to let you know that I’m still around

Must EVERYTHING be both lovely and heartbreaking? Yes, Yes they must, sorry, thems the rules.

In other news, I’m ALMOST through with the edits on the cookbook I’m writing- got my first couple of hardcover proofs in. And aside from some minor tweaks and the occasional desire to chuck it through a window I’m pretty proud of it.

I’m also going through the recordings of my husband’s music. This has taken time, effort, and courage as he was a prolific songwriter and I knew, before I even started, that there were going to be some songs that there would be no recordings of. That the lyrics and music to those were going to be lost to time and therefore would exist only in memory.

And also, that a lot of them dealt with loss of loneliness and that they would hit different, now.

And both of those things were true. There are a LOT of recordings. Each time I found a new song I rejoiced to still have it. But it was as difficult to hear him as you’d think, and I looked shell shocked at the end of it. And yes, some of my favorites are not in there. Which is sad.

And so- I got some of his lyrics to one of my favorite that there isn’t a recording of tattooed on my inner arms.

Don’t you know

I do it all for you

’cause being with you

is all I ever want to do

The artist who did my birds was able to get me in on a pretty quick turnaround and I LOVE them. Also, I guess I need to watch I don’t turn myself into Lucas’s headstone, as he doesn’t have a marker or grave… or maybe I will and fuck it, you know?

That’ll be it on the tattoos for a while though. (WILL IT?) It feels complete for now.

In other, other news (longtime readers are gonna know where this shit is going)… we got a new cat.

Meet Sally.

So a new, long-haired cat showed up randomly on the street and was skittishly running about this last week. Tiny little thing and in rough shape. The girls asked me if they could tame her could we keep her and (as that was how we got Alabama) I said sure.

I expected it to take closer to 4 months than the 15 minutes it took for them to waltz in the house with her purring away in their arms. Le sigh. Welcome to the family, Sally. She is my middle daughter’s cat and honestly the kid could use the constant cuddles and purrs a sweet little cat provides, so it works out. Aside from financially.

In the midst of teacup appraisals, cookbook editing, deciding to live, shopping, cleaning, working, parenting, adopting a new pet, and all the rest of life’s varied quasi-joys and bullshits… I kinda started a civil war at pickup at my youngest’s school.

Let me explain.

At pickup the parents mill around, we have to show our pickup tag to the school councilor who then calls the kid’s name, and the kid gets released to the parent to walk home. It was a disorganized but efficient enough system.

That all changed this year when some new mom decided we all needed to stand in a single file line. I show up one day and she’s directing everyone to do this. I kinda shrug and stand in line. I can see the reasoning behind such a system. What I don’t see is why it has to be straight down the sidewalk in FULL FUCKING SUN. It’s Texas. It’s blazingly hot. There are large shade trees all around the pickup area. I said (loudly) “FUCK THIS” after about 20 seconds and went and stood in the shade at the front by the gate (where I have always stood for the eight years I’ve been doing this with our various kids). When the gate was opened and the school counselor came out he said hi to me and called my kid’s name first.

You should have SEEN the look on Line Idea Mom’s face. She went and TOLD THE PRINCIPAL ON ME. Now here’s the thing. This line was not the administration’s idea. The principal and school counselor know about our loss and have been fantastic to work with in getting grief therapy for my youngest. So like… maybe any other mom they might have asked to just follow the crowd, but they didn’t say SHIT to me.

I told the mom- “Hey, if we curve the line though the shade I’m all for standing in a line- but I am not standing in the sun when there is shade right here.” She did not reply. I shrugged my shoulders.

I stood in the same spot in the shade by myself the next day. I was joined by two of my friends the day after. In the week after, 4 of the dads have joined us in bucking the line, but they stand on the other side of the courtyard. My friends and I send texts like this:

We will win this fight, I have confidence. Not immediately, but eventually. The battle continues and brings me immense satisfaction.

And so… I guess that’s enough for now, both in this blog post and in general.

I guess that’s enough.

For now.