To be Loved

So I had a birthday over the weekend. I turned 42. I’ve never been one to shun my birthdays – or anyone’s, for that matter. I love that there’s one day set-aside just for me to celebrate my birth. That’s awesome! And I don’t have any issues with the whole growing older thing. It beats the alternative! I don’t care if I have laugh lines and crows feet. I like moving forward through this life. I don’t want to spend my time wishing I still looked young. I just want to keep on pluggin’ along.

So anyway…last year, my birthday was not really observed by many of my friends and loved ones. My dad had just died and everyone was still reeling from that. My birthday got sort of consolidated with my mom’s birthday – but not really. One brother and his girlfriend got me a gift. But it turned out to be books I already owned. It was funny, really. Years ago, back in 1995, I discovered a book called Griffin and Sabine, by Nick Bantock. If you haven’t ever seen the Griffin and Sabine books, you need to check them out. They are sublime: wonderful artwork and letters you actually remove from the envelope and read. Such a cute idea! So I got the books and told my brother about this fun author, Nick Bantock. Cut to ten years later and what my brother remembers is that he thinks I’d love these books. Never mind that I introduced him to them!

Last year’s birthday sucked. I was sad about it, actually. I just felt like I’d got lost in the shuffle and I wanted it to be so much more than it was. I had been away from home for three birthdays and was looking forward to celebrating with everyone again. But it didn’t work out that way.

So this year, I had relatively low expectations and they were more than met! My coworkers decorated my cube and made me wear a crazy necklace festooned with Taco Bell hot sauce packets, sporks and cat food nuggets. They bought me flowers and put them in a Taco Bell cup/vase, which was decorated with ribbons. They made me wear earrings made of Taco Bell Fire Sauce packets. They gave me adorable little gifts and we had ladybug cupcakes. It was so great!
After work, my sister-in-law took me to dinner at P.F. Chang’s and then to a comedy club where we saw Kyle Cease who is hysterically funny. She gave me a new watch, earrings, hairpins and a Sephora gift card. It was wonderful.
I got home from the comedy club and there was a huge box waiting for me from my friends Paul and Gina. Paul and his family live in Albertville, Alabama and Gina and her husband, John, live in Medford, Massachusetts. I adore them all. When I was living in Alabama, Paul and his wife Sulynda cooked me a real Alabama breakfast of fried chicken tenders, biscuits from scratch, eggs, fruit salad and coffee. They showed me the only true Southern Hospitality I experienced during my unfortunate confinement in Huntsville.
The box was filled with amazing stuff! They got me the softest throw I’ve ever felt – softer than cashmere; bath gel and lotion; a necklace; a little Chinese purse with a matching head band and the most amazing pound cake I’ve ever tasted. Paul made that himself and it was delicious! They sent berry preserves to eat it with and my roommates and I dug in immediately, savoring each bite. For ten minutes, all anyone could say was, “Mmmmmm. Oh, mmmmmm.”

Friday night, when I was getting ready for bed, all I could think about was how lucky I am. How grateful I am for the terrific people I have in my life – people who love me. I felt so loved and so happy when I went to bed that night. And the good, warm feeling of being loved by so many wonderful people stayed with me even though I woke up on my birthday with the sore throat that indicates the beginning of a cold.

The love fest continued on Sunday when I went to a birthday party at my youngest brother’s house. I got to my youngest brother’s house on Sunday afternoon and spent the evening watching football and snacking on chips and salsa and endamame. We had a great dinner and laughed a lot – mostly at my brother’s girlfriend who was all lit up by more beer than she usually has and was doing some very funny dance moves in the kitchen.
We ate the best chocolate cake in America, which I brought, giggling like fiends at the intense sugar buzz it gave us. I opened presents and oohed and ahhed at the booty. I got a gift card to my favorite restaurant and several tickets to my favorite movie theatre. I got a great bag made for carrying magazines, called a mag-bag, appropriately, which I love (magazines and the bag), incense and a bamboo reed scent diffuser and a candle. It was great!

My fortieth birthday was really special because I was in Paris at my favorite restaurant, Café Parisien, with some of my favorite people. 41 was a sad disaster. But 42 was so good, it makes 41 worth surviving!

And I am very hopeful that this year will be a great year. A year in which I will not have to wonder – I will know: I am loved.

Life Puppies Birthdays and Kissing

So I'm living in San Jose again. I'm exactly one block away from where I lived for ten years. I feel like I've come home again. I love San Jose. San Jose is a sweet town. It's got a happy little vibe, friendly people and lots of fun places to go. It's got lots of parks and trails and hidden treasures. There are coffee houses that are not Starbucks, Lou's Historic Donut Museum, San Pedro Square, Saint James Park, Casa Vicky Taqueria, an art museum that doesn't charge admission, an IMAX movie theatre and lots of hotels with beautiful restaurants, bars and lobbies to loiter in. I'm living with three college boys. They are young and enthusiastic and surprisingly focused. They know what they want to be when they grow up. I'm old enough to be their mom and I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I don't even want to grow up! The guys are so cute. They are still pre-girlfriend, pre-serious relationships. They hang out with their boys and play PS2 and go to movies and watch South Park and The Family Guy. I call them the puppies. Because they are so cute and cuddly and energetic. They remind me of puppies. They are sloppy and they eat a lot. And they're affectionate and well meaning. I give them sweets and cook them dinners -- the equivalent of a scratch behind the ears or a good belly rub. I have a birthday coming in eleven days. I have a brother who has not been in my good graces. He has offered to have a birthday party for me with other family members. Which is nice. In theory. In practice, however....he's invited one of our other brothers who is not mentally stable. The unwell brother has recently called me, lectured-yelled-harangued-threatened and disowned me. Why would anyone who is supposedly trying to do something nice for me invite me to spend my birthday party with someone who directs his most venomous rage at me? I cannot pretend to know what it is like to be the kind of person who never gives a thought to the feelings of my loved ones. I cannot imagine having a birthday party for someone and not asking them whom they would like to invite. Luckily, this "party" for me is on the day after my birthday and I will just build up my reserves by thinking of this as just another fucked up family affair, like any other. I will, if the man formerly known as my brother shows up, sit quietly and try not to say anything controversial. I am hoping he won't show up. These things seldom go my way though. I am debating about going away for Christmas. I wanted to go to Paris but that fell through because the person with whom I'd stay is full up -- his daughter will be visiting him. I'm happy for them, really I am, but I do miss Paris quite a bit, and my friend even more so. So then I thought maybe New York City, but I don't know. I want to be with friends on New Year's Eve so I don't want to be off in NYC by myself when midnight comes. I want to be with someone at midnight and get a good kiss. That always seems like a good way to start a New Year. Not kissing seems like a not good way to ring in a new year. As if you're admitting defeat on day one. There you are, barely out of the box, seconds in to the New Year, and there you are, giving up on love. And come to think of it, for two years running, I did not do any kissing on New Year's Eve and I had the two crappiest years of my life to date. Coincidence? Maybe, but I'm not taking any chances! I am superstitious by nature and by nurture and I think that now that I've recognized this pattern or this evidence, or whatever, I could certainly not ever repeat this behavior for fear that I would be inviting yet another year of hideously bad luck. And who would do that? Not me. I am much more in a mood to invite good luck. And love. Romance. Pleasure. Happiness. I hope I have seen the back of bad luck's head going out the door, fading into the horizon. Gone, daddy, gone.

I'm working for Princess Diana

I wore my hair straight today. I usually curl it. I prefer it to be curly because it's naturally wavy and curly just seems easier to maintain than straight. I blow it out and half way through the day, it's wavy again. But my curling iron is broken so I just came to work with straightened hair today. My boss complemented my hair today and I think she did that so I would look at hers. She got her hair cut yesterday and she is really happy with her new cut. She's really in love with her hair today. I was reminded today that my boss is a big fan of Princess Diana. She was talking last week about how much she admired her.
I was reminded by this by my boss's hair style. Because my boss is channeling Princess Diana's hair! She even looked up at me through her bangs, a la Lady Di. I think she must have been practicing this look in the mirror for quite some time. It struck me that we all see ourselves in our own idealized way. The way that others perceive us may be completely unrelated to the way we see ourselves.
So my boss -- this beer-swililng-hard-rock-loving-party girl -- sees herself as Princess Diana. Go figure!

Ain't no Sunshine

I miss my best friend. He's been on a business trip for most of the summer. I won't see him for at least one more month and I hate that he's away and we're missing so many experiences in each other's lives. I know we'll be fine when it's over but right now, I yearn to have him here and I am just looking forward to that day in the future when I'm sitting next to him in a movie theater again; going to dinner at Santana Row; driving in his Explorer as we run errands. I am looking forward to being in his presence again. It's like having a cloud blocking the sun to not have him here. Everything seems like it's in black and white instead of color and I know when he gets back, the world will look and feel right again.

Labor Day

I moved this weekend. I took Friday off and my sister-in-law (who had to work) and I went to Public Storage and unloaded my "pod" into a U-Haul truck. We got the whole container emptied and the truck loaded in just thirty minutes. We're a good team -- both strong and hard working. I felt terrible that she had to change into work clothes and go to the office.

I got to my new home and one of my new roommates, Jeremy, helped unload the U-Haul. He brought things from the truck to the front porch and then I moved them from the porch into my bedroom. I had the U-Haul returned by noon.

I've been staying with my older brother and his girlfriend in Seaside (Monterey), which is a ninety minute commute each way, for a month, sleeping on an Aerobed. Aerobeds are great for a day or two; reasonably comfortable for what they are. But thirty days is about twenty eight days too many on an air mattress on the floor -- a single sized air mattress.
Sleeping in my bed for the first time in a month was heaven. In spite of the fact that muscles I had forgotten I have were aching all night, I slept exceptionally well Friday night.

I'm all moved in now. I have hung all of my art on the walls and found homes for all of my bits and bobs and I Love my new room. I love my home. The guys I'm living with, college students, are fun and sweet and young. They're like three little puppies and I adore them.
Coming from a family of four boys and me, I am very comfortable living with guys. I think I prefer it to living with a female roommate, actually.

I've had the worst couple of years and now it finally feels, with a new job and a new home, that things are turning back around. I'm hoping for a year of nothing special -- no drama -- just some nice quiet stability. I need that now so that I can rebuild my faith and strengthen my reserves. I know how strong I am and I'm pretty tired of being put to the test. I'd like some down time now. Let someone else have the tumult, the tragedy and the pathos. I'll settle for some calm, some quiet, some dull and boring.

Anyone who's been through the last couple of years with me would second this, I'm sure. I've been at times pretty hard to deal with. When your whole world crashes in and you don't have a strong support network, it's up to the few people who've stood by you to put up with your neediness, your fears and anger. I was shaken to the core by my dad's death, by my being out of work, by my not qualifying for unemployment benefits (because I'd worked in France the 18 months prior to being laid off and I paid taxes to France not the US) and basically being left to make it on my own, hardscrabble, to deplete my meager savings and live hand to mouth. It was so frightening and disheartening to know that I had only a few people to turn to. And at times, I didn't even have them because they were going through hard times too. It was the most alone and the most scared I've ever been.
Coming through the other side of it all has been a slow process; one of always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I've been almost back a couple times and then got the wind knocked out me again. I feel like one of those rubber clown punching balloons I had as a kid. I have just had to keep popping back up over and over while I've been punched down.

So now things are looking better again and I'm just praying that I have what it takes to remain positive, optimistic and loving so that I can hold on to these good times and perpetuate them for a while.

If my luck is finally changing again, by this time next year, this will all be a memory and I'll be able to smile and be grateful for the most boring, stable, uneventful year of my life.

Anniversary

Today is the one-year anniversary of my dad's death.
My dad was a great guy. He was heroic and smart and funny in a way you wouldn't expect someone so smart to be. I miss him a lot. I miss the man he was before he had the stroke that eventually took his life. I miss having his advice available to me. He was great at giving advice because he never bullshitted. He would always tell me exactly how he felt about something. That's so rare. He was never trying to spare my feelings or curry favor when he told me what he felt. I miss that.

I had to give the eulogy at my dad's memorial service. I practiced and practiced but never once got through it without breaking down and crying. The minister at my parents' church, Megan, told me that if I had my words on paper, she would break in and finish for me if needed. But when the time came and I started to cry, she was crying too. In fact, most of the people I looked at from the pulpit were crying. My dad was really loved. He would give you the shirt off his back and he always wanted to see the best in the people he loved. He was a great cheerleader when you were succeeding and a comfort when you failed. Although he was not above an occasional "I told you so."

A lot has happened in the year since he died. One of my brothers, who is mentally ill, has declined considerably. I am grateful that my dad is not here to witness it. I was unemployed when my dad died and now I have a job. I have a new place to live. I have had probably the most tumultuous year of anyone in my family and it has highlighted for me that without my dad, my family is not as cohesive a unit as it once was. I'm glad he was not alive when one of my brothers not only refused to let me stay with him when an apartment I was planning to move into became unavailable at the last minute, but actually became angry with me for even having the temerity to ask. I'm glad he is not alive to know that my mentally ill brother has divorced his wife and only infrequently visits his young children.

I'm sorry that my dad isn't alive to know that after the hardest year of my life, things are finally looking up and I am feeling happy and strong again for the first time in many, many months. I'm sorry he wasn't here for his granddaughters' birthdays or for his 31st wedding anniversary or for his birthday and Father's Day. In his absence, my mom has become the stalwart. She has learned to live alone. She has driven from Tucson to San Jose by herself not once but three times. She has reconnected with many of her friends after spending two years caring for my dad while he was in his decline. She has in some ways really come into her own. But I know that she misses my dad every day and that she would give anything to have him back with her.
I hope that if the time ever comes for me to display immense amounts of grace under pressure, I can be even a small bit like my mom was in the face of my dad's stroke and eventual death. She was amazingly kind and loving even when my dad was not very loving. She lost her best friend and I know how devastated I would be in that circumstance, but on top of that, she had to be strong for five children. I admire her for the way she handled herself.

So today is not my best day. I find myself fighting tears every once in a while -- they just sneak up on me. But I know that this is how we grieve -- in stages. And I know that remembering our loved ones after they've left is is the way we keep them alive in our hearts and minds. The memories we have of those who have passed away are the parts of them we keep forever with us.
My dad shaped so much of my character and gave me so many wonderful memories and today, on the first anniversary of his death, I just want to say that I loved him; that I miss him and that I am so very grateful for everything he gave me, taught me and showed me. I am lucky to have had him in my life.

Prayer for a Brother

Sending out a little prayer to the universe, to the ancestors, to my mom and dad in the afterlife, begging their attention and asking them to please be with my dear brother today as he takes the bravest step of his life and confronts/admits his illness.

Please give him the courage to admit that he's not well. Please give him the strength to do whatever he has to do to regain his sanity, to return to himself, to his family, his children and his wife. Please be with him, guide him, let him not feel alone and scared.

The years that have brought him to this place have been chaotic and frightening and the journey back to good health will likely be arduous but today, he is poised to take this step in the right direction and let us all hope and pray that it is the first of many steps forward.

My brother is sensitive, smart, caring, athletic, funny, analytical and stubborn. We all miss him because for the past few years, he has been spiraling away from us and growing more and more paranoid and angry. We all hope that once he is healthy again, he will have little or no memory of the way he has behaved the past few years. We all want to move ahead and put the past few years behind us and leave them there. We want to see my brother re-emerge and take control of his life again. We want to see him at home with his kids and his wife, enjoying their life together. It will not be an easy journey but please god, let it begin today.
Let our hopes not be in vain.

Well, it's over. Project Runway has run its course. The finale was last night and Santino didn't win. I'm disappointed for him. I loved his collection -- it was girly and ethereal and beautiful. The judges said they thought it was "safe" but I think they got the collection they had been pushing him to create throughout the run of the show. Every time he did something in his own Santino style, they'd shoot it down, saying it was "overdone." So he gave them a refined collection which showed a maturity they even admitted to recognizing, but they apparently wanted him to give them an "overdone" collection. I'm sure that if he'd given them what they think they wanted, they would have been critical of that too.
My only solace is that Daniel didn't win. I think he's such a bore!
Santino has passion for life. He eats up and you can see that in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He makes bold pronouncements and says things that are honest and funny and he doesn't tell everyone what they want to hear. I Love that! There are few things I hate more than false humility. I abhor a phony. If you're good and you know it, clap your hands! If you love what you are doing and you are proud of it -- shout it from the roof tops! I love people who are their own best promoter. Maybe it's crass or too naked for some people's tastes, but I want to see people for who they REALLY are -- not some fake persona full of sweetness and light who'll stab you in the back the minute you turn away from them.

A lot of fuss was made by Chloe because Santino called her a pattern-maker (a huge cut down in the fashion world, apparently), but everyone forgets that moments before that, Chloe said Santino can't sew. If you're going to dish it out, Chloe, be willing to take it. Golden Rule, baby.

Chloe won Project Runway with what I thought was a sort of perplexing line. She had these weird poofy coats over heavy gold dresses which I just thought were hideous. She also had some really lovely dresses, but her collection, to my mind, lacked the impact that Santino's had.

Daniel's collection was a mess. He's 24. I'm sure he'll find a more definite point of view as he gets older. And he'll lose some of his sanctimonious posing and preaching too, most likely. Those are definitely traits that only people in their twenties can afford. As you get older, if you go around decrying the deplorable habits of others, you realize quickly that you are also highlighting your own flaws.

Anyway, my obsession with Project Runway is over -- until next season, I'm sure! And I'm sure we're going to see much more of Santino Rice in the future. I think he's very talented and he's going to go far.