Alvin

I'm not really sure how you mourn a man who was 92 and ready to die. I'm not really sure how you mourn a quiet, hardworking, dairy farmer whose skin sloughed itself off from decades in the sun. I'm sad because he had a strong cleft chin, and what if these go extinct? I'm sad because my grandma hasn't recognized him or anyone else for years, but now how will she stand being alone in the nursing home? I'm sad because my dad still called him 'daddy' and because he was the human version of gravity. Steadfast, solid, strong, serious. He always cried lately. So many of my memories of him are second hand because a shy girl and a shy grandpa never spent much time alone together, but I understand this, and it doesn't stop me from aching over his death, because even in his silence he was the strongest man in the world, and so, so, so good, of the concerted, deliberate, patient variety, the way my own father became in his footsteps. I'm sad because I wouldn't be here without him, and I haven't yet figured out what qualities I've inherited from him, and because this weekend we are saying goodbye to one of the most generous and GOOD (can I stress it more?) people who has ever lived, and definitely I'm sad because doesn't a grandparent dying always make you feel less connected? Another one of my roots isn't here any more. My family will be driving up to the NY/PA border this weekend. I guess this is how it's all meant to go.

life going off

Last night I saw a picture of my grandpa in his nursing home bed and immediately teared up and said to myself, 'my grandpa is going to die.' Then, this morning, he did.

gray Tuesday

The rain caught up to my desire for rain, and now I'm thinking it would be a good day for a pumpkin spice latte, but that would mean waiting in line. We need a recliner here.

I've had

I've had bacon and eggs and an adorable, hairy husband kneeling at my feet. I've had a rotten tummy (thanks, antibiotics!) and an abandoned walk. I've had a book a weekend, football, and dreams about invitations. I've had new neighbors below us who are college boys with a midnight passion for loud music, who have been agreeable when we ask them at 2:38 am to turn it down. I've had blueberries and a heartbeat and serious conversations and potting soil and a 50 foot radius. I've had an anachronistic desire for rain.

at large in the library for 30 minutes

A kid, trying to be courteous, held open the door to the stairs for me as I was coming up to his right pushing a full book cart. Oh, child. I can't walk these down. I thanked him anyway as I rolled past to the elevator. The building is always so full of smells when school is in session. I smell it all. I felt like I was chasing perfumes. The smell of the girl in the periodicals room was an A-, the dude in microforms room was a solid C. One of the stacks smelled like onions or body odor or both, and doesn't it suck so much that you can't always tell those apart?! There's a student whose name I saw today called Idayat and I KNOW that it's just an unfortunate collision with the English language, but I'm sorry on his/her behalf. Also, for no reason I can tell, I've had a rash of misidentifying ethnicities from behind. There are a lot of all sorts of people from all over the world in this building, and I love seeing all of them. And maybe this is vaguely racist? but I have misclassified a few people lately based on the back of their heads. Where am I going wrong? What else in my trip? I have a distaste for those glossy design periodicals, I'm sorry, I just can't work with them. They are all oversize and lacking page numbers. I'm only human. It's a better coup to find the needed material when they're in a magazine like this--one I'd much much rather cut up and make into a collage than try to nagivate. Ok, so I get to crow right now, I guess, for being better at my job than the people who tried to track this down before me! I think, though, that my ego is falsely inflated, because I only fixate on the times I am successful. It's ok. I need victories. I also needed the dark chocolate Hershey's kisses at the circulation desk. And the side staff door to tech services being unlocked for only the second day this week (THANK YOU), and the familiar way the 4th floor button in the stacks elevator always has to be pushed twice.

5:00 am

Oh lord. I just keep avoiding.

Well, I had a crappy and beautiful and frustrating and exhausting and fantastic and grumpy and disappointing and lovely week and a half. The wedding in Indiana? I was very glad to be there, but getting there and back was inconvenient and I should totally know better by now than to announce that I'm feeling healthy, because right after I do, I get punched back, so yes, no, the wave of good feeling did not last and I did end up feeling achy, sticky, and tragic most of the weekend. The good news is (other than the wedding and the family) that I pulled it off, despite the clamor of my skull. I've settled into a half comforting, half soul killing pattern over the last few months of feeling good for a handful of days, and then having a setback of three or four days wherein the gerbils in my head come roaring back. I am gearing up for another round of appointments. But that's neither here nor there (well, actually, at the moment, it's very much here)... as I said, I managed the weekend well. I even managed well the fact that S and I got home at 5:00 am on Monday and left for North Carolina three hours later. I counted up, and I've spent about 54 hours in the car in the last two weeks. If that's an exaggeration, it's not by much, and it's only because I have no math skills. As they have done in the past the skull gerbils only lasted a few days, and so by Wednesday life was wonderful. S and I had a very us-affirming few days at the beach. We entertained and were entertained by his family, but mostly it was just him and me, swimming in the ocean, walking on the beach, swimming in the beach house pool (it is almost too much), eating rich food, sneaking beers from his mom's stash in the basement fridge. Oh, and the hot tub. Yeah. I definitely had a few moments or maybe a few days during which I felt completely completely well and like me. I was me. We laughed a lot. I did not wear a bra even once, and my nose and cheeks freckled, and everything tasted like salt. We came back home on Friday, with just enough turnaround time to do a bunch of laundry, sleep a night in our own beds, and play a gig (him, not me), before hopping back on the road to take a pointless trip up to Maryland. It wasn't supposed to be pointless. There were six of us, and three of us (NOT me) were to compete in a badass race early Sunday morning. So we were up there and ready Saturday evening, filling up on carbs, putting the finishing touches on team shirts, going to bed early at the hotel, but then we were woken up before dawn by notifications that the race had been flooded out and was cancelled. Not a whole let else to do at 5:00 am in a hotel in Maryland when the race is off. So we watched Bruce Almighty and then came back south. Stopped at a Perkins for breakfast. Were home and napping by noon. As disappointed as I was on S's behalf, I was glad to be home sooner than anticipated. I could feel my tides rolling back. I wonder if it was the stress. According to my calculations, I might be feeling decent again by Thursday. Or I might not, because I have not been going easy on me so far this week. I've set a new compromised-state-April record (out of stubbornness, not real readiness) in that I've walked a total of 15 miles in the past two days. It's fall. The air really should have curative effects, shouldn't it?