Joni Mitchell

A few weeks ago a good friend died. Unexpectedly. 

I came into the bedroom, Deb was on the couch, "Honey, Donnie passed away." 

I think I blinked. "What?" 

She said it again. 

I understand the words, just not the combination and order they are in. 

I must have looked at her with a blank stare as she repeated it again. This time more pointed, punctuating each word. 

I sat down. I fought the tears and the need to say 'what' many more times.

The shock. The sadness. The what?

A few days later driving home from work, listening to music, per usual. Joni Mitchell fades in. Because, of course.

If a friend has recently died and you don't want to cry while driving, I recommend hitting the next channel button. 

I didn't though. 

I listened.  

But now it's just another show 

And you leave 'em laughing when you go 

And if you care, don't let them know 

Don't give yourself away 

I've looked at love from both sides now 

From give and take and still somehow 

It's love's illusions that I recall 

I really don't know love 

Really don't know love at all 

I felt the tears come. Because, we all think of Alan FUCKING Rickman cheating on Emma Thompson when that song plays. 

You can't not cry. All the feelings come in. It was like a floodgate. I cried for my friend. I cried for her family. I cried for me. I cried for Emma Thompson putting a smile on her face and moving forward. 

Bad Ass Baby.

I was fortunate to spend part of the afternoon of her celebration of life hanging out with our new neighbor baby. 

You know what helps with being sad? A baby. 

A badass baby that spent some weeks in the NICU. A baby that is going to grow up to be an awesome badass human. 

She was fighting a nap while I rocked her. I tried to convince her that one day, naps will be a very happy and welcome time. Like when she's about 40.

Unsure if it was my pep talk or the rocking but she finally gave up her fight. We rocked awhile and she slept. 

And then I handed her back to her parents and went to say goodbye to my friend. 

And, again, Joni Mitchell came on. Because, of course.

And the seasons, they go round and round 

And the painted ponies go up and down

We're captive on the carousel of time 

We can't return, we can only look 

Behind, from where we came 

And go round and round and round, in the circle game 

And go round and round and round, in the circle game 

This phase of life is not for the faint of heart. We are losing parents and friends; the kids are growing up. 

And there are babies. Thankfully.

Because it's just a circle game.

Write Something

Write Something.

"Why don't you go sit down and write something?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"I'm not buying that," she laughed as she walked away.

In her defense I have something to say 99.9% of the time. Looking at my past posts, it's been 13 months since I've published anything. Which is more 'something to write' than 'something to say'. But, definitely not my norm. 

I'm kind of a loud mouth/typer. 

Turns out I've been working through some shit and I've kept it internal. It's possible that writing would have helped me work through. But, I was so 'in it' I just couldn't. 

I am getting better. My head is above water now. Most of the time. I feel better than I have in years. Two years to be exact. It crept up on me. My happy, easy to laugh attitude got harder and harder to maintain as I sunk deeper and deeper. I was holding so much weight. Fear, sadness, uncertainty - all the current events. Doom scrolling as soon as I woke up. Doom scrolling until I fell asleep. My anger and sadness building. Fuse getting shorter. 

I went in for my annual check up. The receptionist handed me an iPad with screening questions. I sort of laughed as I thought, "Maybe I should answer these honestly." And, I did... which set off a chain of events and appointments resulting in me being diagnosed with clinical depression.

Let me be clear - at no time did I think of hurting myself. My enormous ego won't allow that. My head may be literally perfectly proportioned but it's figuratively GIANT. 

I tried drinking. A lot. Added in eating. A lot. That made me feel better. In the moment. Then made me hate myself. 

Started taking something. It helped. On days that I would take them. Punishing myself felt better. So much better.

Therapy. Blah.

Art therapy. Which sounds so not like me but was actually helpful. I make awesome collages. About feelings. Don't ask me to talk about them. But if I glue a representation of feelings on a poster board from The Dollar Store you can be assured that I definitely have that particular feeling.

Intense therapy. No details. But I've finally learned with some wise words and hard work that I don't have to carry everything. Turns out I can set it down. I had no idea. Some of those things are very heavy. I can put them down. I can drop them. I can take my armor off. I don't have to wear it. It's a pretty amazing feeling. Setting all the shit down. 

Am I back to the 'Old Staci'? 

Nope. 

I think she's gone. 

Probably forever. 

And, that's okay. 

New Coke may have been shitty. Most covers and remakes are subpar. Turns out that I'm going to give my new self a chance. Let's see what happens.

 

Swimmingly

I grew up on the water. Literally. Walked right out our door to the Snake River winding by. 

When I was four we moved to a town in N. Idaho. 

It was hot there. 

Hundred-Teens in the summer. 

Still very close to the Snake River. Made it there nearly every summer weekend. I was a very tan kid, after I laid down my blistery base burn. (It was a different time.)

Multiple neighbors had pools. We were surrounded. I took swimming lessons a few blocks from our house.

We also hung at the public pool pretty frequently. Where this cool dude named, Brody, (or maybe Bodie?) would do flips off the high dive. All while we stared in awe eating our Firecracker Popsicles. 

I have so many questions now that I am an adult. Was his name really Brody? What ever happened to him? Who was covering the insurance at a public pool with a high dive? 

We had a HydroTube too. I hated it there. After I almost drowned multiple times. I don't think that was rare. Likely why you don't see any HydroTubes today. 

And then, one of my moms best friends, put in a pool. I was maybe six. I vividly remember sitting on their deck, head against the spindles, legs swinging below me, watching every step. My love of three things combined. Construction, projects and water. 

We spent a lot of afternoons over there. Hawaiian Tropic, Chlorine. It's where I learned how delicious light beer and Oreos is. Trust me. It's delicious. Bigger than that, I knew I wanted one of those. 

A pool.

One of many reasons I really wanted to buy our home, later named, Stella Mae, was the size of the yard. Enough room for a pool. A good number of people thought I was crazy. A pool in Oregon? It's not that hot. It's plenty warm. And, it's not like the earth is getting colder... 

2020 was the year. Then it wasn't. We couldn't get drawings done, offices were closed. We would not be swimming in 2020. In October we finally got our drawings, approved the bid and Griswald style, I put my bonus down as the deposit. 

Today I cannonball’d into our pool. More than once. 

It’s not officially finished. The lights aren’t hooked up, I can’t close the cover, there’s no heat. But, the chemicals are balanced. The salt is perfect and the robot is busy vacuuming. 

It’s oddly warm in the Pacific Northwest and a perfect day to practice my under water handstands and somersaults.

After 39 years, the pool is open.

Red Rope

Barley.

 On the day we found out our pool is going to be weeks delayed, agreed a first world problem, but still annoying to have a very expensive crater in our backyard, and our sprinkler system computer croaked -  replacement on the way - I was in a mood.

We've got baseball tickets tonight. Season opener.

Wife, having had an equally frustrating but different day, said, "we have to have an attitude adjustment or we aren't going to have any fun tonight."

"We will have fun. We will drink beer and eat red vines and have all the fun."

In other news, I graduated from Invisalign today and into a permanent retainer. I'm really looking forward to eating without having to remove my 'teeth'. 

At the stadium, fresh Hops cap procured, I head to the concession stand. I can see the red vines. All coiled, deliciousness visible, I ordered a $9 beer and a red vine.

The cashier, confused, it's opening night, in Covid, they're all new, looked for the 'red vine' button.

"I can't find the button. Anyone know where the red vines button is?"

They all stared. Blankly.

"Um, I can see them. Right there. It's all I really want."

"There's no button for them."

Push the hotdog button and hand me a red vine... I'm certain, even with my hat, sun glasses and mask, he could read my face.

He stared at me. I stared back, trying not to blink, he held out, "fine... I'll just take the beer."

I walked to my seat. Defeated.

Cue my very long monologue to my audience of two.

After I finished my beer, I returned to the concession stand, "you guys figure out the red vines situation?"

"No."

"You're killing me."

Blank stares.

They've covered the red vines with bags of potato chips. But, I know they're there. We all know they're there!

I walked across the concourse, seeking out another stand. Stood in line for 10 minutes reviewing the menu options.

No red ropes.

But, Cracker Jack!

"I'll take a beer and a Cracker Jack", I said as I pulled my card out.

"This line is cash only."

I looked up and around, "there is not sign."

"Sorry."

Deep breath. Deep breath. Do not lose your ever loving mind over Cracker Jacks.

Walked over to the next window. 

Waited in line.

"You take cards?"

"Yes."

Whew.

"Great, I'll take a beer and a Cracker Jack."

"We don't have Cracker Jack at this window."

Mother*%$*ingSonofaB*&^%$.

"Just the beer then."

In good news, I got a photo with Barley, my wife found me some Cracker Jack and the Hops won. I also challenged, and likely beat some kids in a hill rolling contest on the way out of the stadium. I'm not saying that it was a bad idea to hill roll after 36 ounces of beer but I'm not saying it was a good idea either. An hour later, I'm still dizzy and perhaps a little sloshy.

And, yes, there is a video. 

For another time.

My wife. My hero.

A year!

It's been a fucking year. Exactly. 

The light at the end of the tunnel might not be a train. 

I haven't worked in the office in a year. A super bummer. I really liked my office. I had cool art and an excellent booze collection and a big screen TV that streamed sports all the time. 

Soccer? Yep. Cricket? Yep. Ping Pong? Hell yeah.

In that year, my office has been boxed up and moved. Moved to another building. Not unpacked. Just piles of boxes. There. Waiting. For the someday. I did go in and grab the booze. I would never trust the movers with that. Ever. Plus, I needed that at home. 

In good news, The Nimitz is in terrific shape. Hardly any miles in a year. And gas expenses have been miniscule. 

My mental health is not in terrific shape. I haven't done that well in this. Maybe I've cracked. It's been a hard year. I don't think I'm alone. I think extroverts in general are having a tough go of it. But, it's expanding beyond extroverts. Even my introvert friends are at the end. 

A couple weeks ago I donated blood with my blood donation bestie. We talked and laughed about how much fun we'll have in the someday. When we parted I said, "I want to have so much fun we wake up in a hotel and don't know how we got there." 

I mean that. 

Really.

When this started, it was like snow days. We figured, we'll go home for a few weeks. People will stay home. It'll stop spreading. But, they didn't and it didn't. The weeks turned to months. And now, a year.

As a GenXer I can deal with just about anything. Drop some mac and cheese and pop tarts on my porch and put sitcoms and MTV back on and I'm good. I can hang. But, instead of watching sitcoms 24/7 I started watching the news. It turns out that was a terrible idea. I've never had a ton of faith in humanity but now... now, I don't know if I have any. 

The zoom happy hours and virtual coffees have gotten old. I miss seeing people in 3D. Not hugging got old. Me. I miss hugging. That's enough evidence to prove that I've definitely cracked. Defense rests.

And then, today I got the text that I'll be scheduled for my vaccine soon. It's coming. The end is coming. There is hope. I've refreshed my email no less than 100 times waiting for the invite. 

This feels like Christmas. 

Look out people. In 8-10 weeks I will be hugging everyone I see. 

Lucky you.  

Laughing to Death

Years, and years, and years ago, when I was about seven, we were left home alone.

Not at all informative or instructional.

The three of us were around the kitchen table doing our homework. As this was the early 80's I'm going to guess that I was working on a coloring book or something. There weren't really 'homework packets' for first graders in my day. Again, as it was the early 80's, it wasn't anything of note to have 13, 11 and seven year olds home alone in the evening.

I was on one end of the 'wooden' formica table, Pat the other, Dionne in the middle. We were laughing and being silly and eating brownies. I took a bite and laughed. And sucked in ooey, gooey, delicious brownie. Stuck.

I couldn't breathe. I tried coughing. I started banging on the table. 

My sister Dionne who spent a considerable amount of our childhood trying to murder me, said, "I think she's choking! Are you choking?"

I was stunned that she wasn't just going to let me die but I did muster up a nod of some kind.

Patrick jumped up and started performing the heimlich maneuver, not sure where he learned it, likely a Very Special Episode of something or an After School Special. But, it worked. Brownie out.

I don't know that we ever really talked about it again. We just sat back down and went back to our stuff. We're GenXers after all. 

Now, as a full fledged adult I do think I had an irrational fear that at any moment one of the kids would choke. What if they were alone or in another room? I imagined every scenario. All of them horrible.

As a family, we try to eat dinner together most nights. It's a little easier now that there aren't many activities due to the pandemic. We make Sunday Dinner a priority no matter what. 

We have a funny family. We laugh a lot. 

You can see the foreshadowing, yes? 

I was laughing. Corn kernel. Sucked in. Stuck. 

I don't remember how my body reacted in the 80s. But I'm pretty certain it wasn't anything like this. I could breathe enough to cough. Sort of. But, I couldn't control my body. It was like my brain was calm but my body hysterical. Every muscle tensed trying to force the errant object from where it was. The coughing was incredibly violent and involved my entire body. I was repeatedly tensing. Every muscle. 

Deb, very calmly, said, "I don't think you can answer, are you choking?"

Good to have a wife who doesn't want me to die.

I slapped the table in the affirmative. 

My body tensed again. Full body cough.

Then I felt it. 

Oh. No.

The coughing continued. The body spasms continued, twisting me over.

I felt it again. And again. Warm.

The corn dislodged. 

It took time to catch my breath. My eyes were watery. My face felt hot.

I looked up at my family, staring at me. Stunned.

I sat for a moment, gathering my thoughts and options. I have no other option than honesty. Not my favorite option for this issue but the only one. I was, after all, in a room full of people.

"Well, we have a problem. I've peed my pants."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Henley glanced over at me, rolled his eyes and said, "I'll get some towels."

I started to giggle. Which is what started this whole thing to begin with.

I'm not sure what he expected but he returned with three oversized beach towels. I cleaned up the very small puddle. 

I've never been more thankful for wooden dining chairs in my life.

Wrapping a towel around myself I stated, "I'm going to cover myself for privacy and I'm going to take a long shower."

"Privacy? More like your pride and dignity, Mom."* 

"Thanks buddy."

More laughing. 

If we're going to keep being a funny family, we need to invest in some good CPR training. Obviously, laughing is dangerous. At least for me.

*Yes. I see where he gets it.

Fear

I'm living in fear. And, that is a place I don't want to be. 

I've become so angry. I really don't want to be angry. It's fucking exhausting. 

So, here it is. My plea. My hope to be less afraid, less angry. My hope is that people will understand that many of the rights we have as women and minorities have been fought for. A hard fight. The idea that a move on the court could impact our rights is keeping me up at night. 

Many parts ofmy life work because of the Supreme Court. 

I do or have:

Worked while pregnant and returned to my job.

Used birth control.

Owned property.

Have all my own financial accounts and credit cards.

Contributed an equal amount to my pension as men.

Been sexually harassed in the work place. 

Played sports.

Married the love of my life, who happens to be the same sex as me.

I won't get into 'fairness' as that doesn't seem to matter any more. There is no room for fairness in politics. Telling a group of senators in power to be 'fair' will get no one anywhere. Voting will. Protesting will. Sharing our stories will. Asking for help will. I'm doing many of these things. Voting, sharing, asking and yeah, I'll hold up a sign and chant when I can. 

When it comes down to everything, the only thing we have is each other. We may not agree on much, you may not be interested in being married to someone of the same sex, cool, marry whoever you want. But, if you care about me or anyone in my family, remember that once rights start being stripped away, we don't know where the line is. My marriage being invalidated? You may not care. But, the next thing to go might be your ability to own property. Or your ability to be on the pill - for pregnancy prevention or other health reasons. It's really not anyones business but you and your doctor. Being paid equally, having maternity leave, the list goes on. It would be great if we didn't have to have these rights written into law, but, we do. 

The erosion of rights is a scary. It's already happening. If you think it isn't, you aren't paying attention. Most people who (angrily) tell me to shut up (or worse) haven't had to be protected by any of the above. Most of them also fit into the same demographic. I'd be willing to bet that none of them have had to scrap and fight for equal pay, maternity leave or the right to be married.

I love my family. I have a high protective instinct. I am a middle aged lady with no fucks left to give. 'They' come after my family? I'd love to say I'll burn it all down. But, in reality, it's probably a much quieter response the preparation of which is already thought out.

Here's my ask. If my family being legally intact is at risk, is that the right thing? If you care about me or my family or have a gay brother or love anyone LGBTQ+, think about it. Consider the most vulnerable person you know. Vote for them, donate for them, send letters and make phone calls for them.

Because, as the adage goes, when they come for you, who will be left?