Some days you're the windshield . . .

And some days you're the bug. Today was defiitely a bug day. It's not even that it was a particularly bad day, but it wasn't particularly good. One of those "I should never have gotten out of bed" days. I started the day with a headache, combined with a backache (too much heavy lifting lately, and not enough painkillers!). Add that to an inability to move faster than a glacial pace, and the need to attempt (unsuccessfully) to tame a completely unruly mop of hair, and you end up with me gliding into class at the last possible minute. Only to find out, of course, that I left my attendance and gradebook home. Cue utterly incomprehensible registration assembly for next year, and an inability to access the Virgin Atlantic website because our school censors categorize it as porn! Do you see where I'm going? All Iwanted to do all day was come home, relax, and watch Hamlet on PBS, which I've been waiting for forever. But, right in the middle of that, my lawyer is going to be here to complete some paperwork for the apartment. I'm going to call that "intermission," and try to convince myself that I'm at the theatre. Totally don't think it'll work. Totally want to take a mental health day but, after 3 weeks of bereavement leave, that's not happening. Bleh, I really hope tomorrow is a windshield day!

Early bird specials, telenovelas, Irish plumbers, Julia Roberts and Yorkie-cide (oh, and 8306 pennies)

For the record, the seemingly random title of this post should not be taken as an indication of my state of mind - although my students, bless them, must have thought I was missing a few nuts and bolts today (wierd day, frustrating day - see Yorkie-cide below). These are simply the things that have made up the last week.

I got home Friday from Florida. It was a very nice visit, but I don't think I could have kept up the 4:00 supper times for much longer - 4:00! I haven't even gotten home from school most days by 4:00! I was very grateful to return to my usual 7:30 or later dinner. My visit to the fam in the sunshine state also necessitated some telenovela viewing with my aunts. I really missed American TV - I would have even sat through a Judge Judy, if it wasn't so reminiscent of Casos de Familias. Actually, that show is pretty hard core - the arrested some guy right on camera - he was a pretty sick dude. Anyway, I enjoyed spending the time with my aunts, but I was really happy to watch just about whatever my tivo had recorded for me while I was away.

Then, of course, came the clogged drain that acked everything up in the kitchen. I had to call in a plumber, which became a lesson in humility. Ironically, I had spent the day telling my kids about how good I am at deciphering accents. I told them about my friend in college, and the Scottish football (soccer) team that joined us on the train to Edinburgh. About 4 hours into the trip, she asked me, "What language are they speaking?" I looked at her in disbelief and said, "English, Hannah!" Well, pride does indeed goeth before a fall because I could barely understand 5 words in 10 that this plumber was saying (the select universal swear words when he had to cut open the pipe to retrieve a stuck tool came through loud and clear!). To be fair, I admitted my humiliation to my students the next day - I figure, if I'm going to brag about my skills, the least I can do is admit my failings too!

And Julia Roberts - no, I did not meet the Pretty Woman this week. Instead, I fantasized about having a Pretty Woman moment at the Verizon Wireless store. After having an appalling experience with them last week, I became a T-mobile customer. The short version is this: "My mom and I had a family share plan, and she passed away. I want to cancel her number and keep mine." "Well, what you need to do - oh, and sorry for your loss - is  . . ." You can see where this is going. Apparently a death certificate is insufficient proof that I'm not going to somehow commit fraud by keeping my own phone number. With a death certificate, they could only cancel her number and keep mine under her name. "So, you're going to bill a dead woman?" I asked. "No," the rocket scientist of a clerk said. "You'll pay the bill." "So, why can't I have my name on the account?" I asked, reasonably, I thought. "It's to prevent fraud," she said, talking out of her ass. WTF? That doesn't even make sense!! They asked for executor's papers (which I didn't bring, since the rest of the world is OK with a death certificate, except for the highly classified world of cell phones, apparently). I said, neer mind, and walked 2 doors down toT-mobile.

Now for the Julia Roberts moment. I needed to go back to Verizon to cancel the service completely, and I really, really, really, wanted to reenact the scene where she walks in to the boutique and tells the woman, "Remember me. You wouldn't serve me . . . Big mistake! Huge!" And she raises the shopping bags. Well, in my vision, I would have walked up to the customer service counter, repeated similar lines, and waved my Blackberry over my head. Of course, I didn't do it. She was there, but I had another woman who served me (yes, I know, I could have kept the moment alive by saying, "No, I want her"). In the end it came down to this - I'm a total coward, and really did not want to cause a scene in the middle of a crowded store! I'm such a wuss. BTW, the other lady asked for not one bit of paperwork.

So, where am I on that strange list n the title? Ah, yes, Yorkie-cide. Well, my, shall we say eccentric, Yorkie, Brooke, kept me up all night, pacing the hardwood floor (which, by the way, she is doing right this minute, thus Yorkie-cide is still a possiblity). I wanted to chuck her out a window in the middle of the night , but settled instead for flinging her into her bed at one point (it's soft, she's fine). It made no difference - she just kept pacing, all night. I think she was punishing me for the new anti-bark collar I just bought her - hang on, she's barking at me right now - that thing's a piece of crap! Oh, this day just gets better and better! I believe sedation may be necessary tonight - not sure if it's for her or me. Anyway, that's what started my day off - hah, she just got sprayed! Serves her right! Ooh, she's mad. She's so going to back at me tonight.

Wow, if this is how easily entertained I am, I'm clearly overtired. So, I'd better address the last part of the list - 8,306 pennies (less a few English pence that got mixed in somehow). This is the number of coins (plus honorable mention to 209 dimes) that I spent 1/2 hour depositing into a Coinstar machine this afternoon, after the bitch of a school day I had. They were all in a bunch of jars that Mom had in closets and cabinets in the house. I admit to being a tad disappointed not to have cracked 10,000 after all that effort, but I comfort myself that the crazy woman with the cart full of pennies must have been the subject of some dinner table conversation around Yonkrs this evening. I aim to please. And, I am really, really, really tired. And Brooke is limping on her bum knee, trying to elicit some sympathy, so I should probably go see if she's OK, and then slip her a mickey. Until next time!

Two Months

I have to keep this post short, because I'm on a borrowed computer, but I needed to acknowledge that today marks two months since Mommy died. In a wierd way, it seems like longer. I guess because it has been such a long two months, and because so much has happened in that time. It's kind of appropriate that I'm in Tampa right now, with Mommy's family, all of whom I know miss her too. So, being with family is good. It's all a little surreal. But, I wanted to say, on this two-month occasion, Mommy, I love you, and I miss you more than words can say.

Highest highs and Lowest lows

Emotion is a funny and capricious thing. Just when you think you have it figured out, it turns the tables on you. I've been riding a high of good feeling - even joy - for over a week now. A number of very positive things have happened, and I don't doubt that mom and dad had a hand it these things. One of these things is that I have signed a contract on a new apartment on the Upper East Side - finally, that Manhattan apartment I've always wanted. There are many stages of the process to go, but I feel cautiously optomistic that it will all work out. The other thing is pretty big, but I don't want to discuss it just yet for fear of jinxing anything.

These positive things have made me feel true joy, something I would not have thought possible two months ago, just before my mother's death. But, something happened in those last days - my mother gave me the greatest gift she ever could - the belief that I would feel joy, and live a happy life. That belief, and the inner strength she taught me my whole life, has made these two months bearable. In fact, it is very easy for me to respond that I'm OK when people ask me how I'm doing. Of course, the incredulous responses I get from some people ("Really?") make me want to ask, "Would you rather I were a babbling mess?" I know people mean well, but do they really have to assume I'm a basket case?

Now I'll grant you, the good feeling I have experienced lately has sometimes made me wonder if I'm actually simply nestled in a warm little cocoon of denial, but I know I'm not. I am fully aware of the loss - I just don't intend to dishonor my mother, and everything she believed I was capable of, by falling apart. She taught me better than that - it's stiff upper lip all the way (I totally should have been British).

Of course, then there's days like today, when I sit surfing the internet (scary place sometimes!), feeling inexplicably depressed. At least that's what I told myself - "Why are you depressed? Nothing happened!" Then, I feel like knocking myself upside the head - of course I feel depressed! My mother and best friend died less than two months ago, I just burned a bunch of her private papers (per her request), and I'm collecting many of her things for donation to my school's Nicaragua project. All of these things are naturally depressing things. Nothing inexplicable about it. Now, the old me would have downed a can of coke (I just had a glass), and eaten a sandwich or something (my size 12 Calvins can attest to how much of that I've done over the last 3 years). Instead, I bundled up, went out into the freezing downpour (another reason to be depressed - wettest March in history in NY!), and walked for 45 minutes. Even though it wasn't as carefree as my walks have been over the last week, the exercise, coupled with  bit of Hair Band rock on the i-pod actually did the trick, and I came home not depressed.

I guess the thing I have to remember is that there will be days like this - you don't just get over something like this and move on. Having good days is good, but having bad days is not bad.

Happy Birthday Mommy (3/11)

Well, I would have liked to write a post on Mom's actual birthday last Thursday, but it was an exhausting and emotionally trying week. I started back at work this week. It was awkward because there was a lot of attention. And, since I'm used to being invisible, that was a little tough. It was also somewhat beautiful. The girls were so welcoming - they really seemed happy to have me back. Girls would shriek and run down the hall to hug me - I don't suppose that kind of thing is an act to get an A! The faculty were very welcoming too, although there are still a few pitying glances. Now that the overt attention has faded, hopefully those glances will too. I know it's all well meaning, but it's exactly what I had worried would happen as soon as people knew what was happening. As long as I can fade away into obscurity again soon, I can handle it in the meantime. As for the uncomfortable reception from the powers that be, well, par for the course.

The worst part of the week, though, was that Keith and I had a huge fight. It was over the cleanup again. He threw out some things I had set aside to save, and it deteriorated into a shouting match, which left me sobbing in my room, feeling like I had been torn apart. I can't seem to make him understand how lost I feel so much of the time, and how I can't just throw Mom and Dad's lives away. We are getting rid of a lot, but I need to save some things that I know seem irrational. That night, I felt like the world was spinning out of control, and losing those little bits of paper, made feel like I was losing everything. I know it's not really about the paper - those scraps of things are a connection. With every thing that gets thrown away, the connection seems to weaken. Yet, I'm reasonable, I think. I'm not trying to keep everything - not even close. But, it's 5 weeks, not 5 months or 5 years and, if I want to keep something in a bin for 30 years because knowing I have it comforts me, then I'll keep it in a bin. Keith can't make that decision for me. The fight did not linger - it was important to me that it be addressed before Mommy's birthday, so I sent Keith an email. I don't think he quite got what I was trying to say in the email, but it's fine now. And, in retrospect, I think I know why he got so upset so easily - last week was payroll week, which is always stressful.

We went to Harvest for Mom's birthday. It felt a little wrong being there without them, but it actually turned out to be a really nice evening - and just the celebration of her life we needed. And, though Tuesday night was the worst night I've had since she died (it's the first time  I begged her to come back), Thursday might have been one of the best. And, yesterday, we all (Louie included) managed to spend the day cleaning without lunging at each other's throats, so, progress!

One month

I can believe it, but it's been one month. One month since my entire world changed. I don't know how a whole month could have passed. I always assumed life would stop when Mommy died - how was I supposed to go on without her? But, I've been functioning surprisingly normally this month. That's not to say it has been easy. Today was an exceptionally difficult day in terms of functioning like a normal human being. And,  I do  find myself occasionally crying hysterically in the car in a parking garage for no good reason (Wednesday's fun and excitement), but I actually get up everyday (I won't say morning - late nights make for late days) and I go about my business. That business has been very busy, andt's just going to get busier - I go back to school tomorrow. I have mixed feelings about that. They had hired someone to fill in until Easter Break, but she ended up taking another job. So, I got calls telling me to "Take your time," with the "we're really stuck without a sub" in parentheses. I can see it from their perspective, but I feel a little played. When Daddy died 3 1/2 years ago, the State Department was quite honest about being a heartless beaurocracy, calling me AWOL and ordering me back to Mexico. It was upsetting (and eye-opening), but at least I knew where I stood. Here, I get a bit of a feeling like the burden in being put on me - my sense of responsibility won't let me leave the students in the lurch (and they know it). I'm not saying the  calls from school were not genuinely to see how I'm doing, but that they were not entirely to see how I'm doing. And I know I have an obligation to my job - and a need for my job! So back I go.

And, once I go back, the all-consuming world of school takes over, and there won't be time for anything else. I think I'm going to get really overwhelmed, and I don't know how I'm going to handle it all. I'm worried that Arabic class will take the brunt of it, and I really want to do well in that class. But, there's want and need, and I need to get my work done at school, and at home. Keith and I are now actually talking about putting the house on the market after Easter - way soon, but there have been developments. I've been looking for apartments, like Mom and I were before she died, and I'm waiting to hear on one I've offered on. I feel like, parting with the house will be difficult no matter when I do it - it will be no easier next year than now, and in the meantime, it's too much. Too much to take care of, too much to come home too, empty and alone. I need a fresh start. The apartment will give me that. I just hope Mommy doesn't think I'm moving too fast, or I'm forgetting her. I don't think she will - I know she wanted the apartment for me, that she thought it would be good for me, and she didn't want me burdened with this house. It will be tough, though, the day I know I can never enter this house again. And it's harder because I may be away for the entire fall, if the Fulbright goes through.

Well, anyway, despite the ups and downs of the last month, I'm actually doing pretty well. Now, if I can manage to do all my work, get the house ready for sale, close on  apartment and lose 50 pounds by the end of August, I can fly off to England very content! Some of those things might be harder than others.

Blizzards and Bum Knees

Not having a grea night. I'm not even sure exactly why. I suddenly feel so down. I had a nice afternoon - went to Lunch with Luke. Didn't do much when I came home - watched the USA/Canada hockey game, created some assignments for my students todo this week while I'm out, did some laundry. Watched a bit of Dr. Who. Now I'm watching the closing ceremonies. Maybe that's part of it. The sense of ending - these games were a distraction for the last 17 days - I've had them to watch every night since I've had to be alone in this house. After tonight, they're done - and I go back to the regular routine. Only the regular routine is not the same anymore. When I sit and watch my regular shows, I'll be watching them by myself. It's no, of course, about the TV shows - it's about the little moments in life that I can no longer share with the most important person in my world.

And, as I write this, Brooke has just bounded up from bed and hobbled out of the room barking. I say hobbled, because she did have the knee surgery - in the middle of the blizzard on Friday (21 inches of snow, and I took my dog to the vet for orthopedic surgery). I think this has me a bit down, because I don't know if I'm taking good enough care of her. She's not resting the leg - she jumps up on the window seat and sofa and down again. Now it's a bit red and swollen. I'm afraid she's going to do permanent damage, and  don't know how to stop her. She won't eat (except cookies and bully sticks) and I haven't seen her drink much water, except what I tried to get in with a syringe. She looks at me and whines, but I can't seem to give her what she needs. I feel like Mom would know what to do, and I'm totally lost. And, if I can't take care of  a crazy Yorkie with a bum knee, and gloomy schnauzer with weight issues, how am I ever going to take care of human kids? I always assumed that Mommy would be here when I had kids - that she'd show me how to do it right (the way she did it). But, now I have to figure all of that out on my own. And I haven't got the first clue about raising kids (not that it's a pressing issue right now).

The sense of being overwhelmed is growing too. One more week before I go back to school, and then who knows what I'll do - there won't be time for anything. And, naturally, I haven't gotten a fraction of the things done that I need to - in part because it's just so much, and, honestly, in part because of a passive aggression that just doesn't want to do it. Oh, and I have Arabic homework to do. So, right now, I'll finish the Closing Cermonies (on TiVo), watch another 3 or so episodes of Dr. Who (what am I going to do without it when I'm done?), and continue my passive aggressive avoidance tactics.