Life is vaguely insane right now, and I haven't been around so much to document it, for the following reasons:
One: my darling grandmother, who happens to be one of the best people in the universe, is in the hospital. It came out of nowhere - a nasty bowel obstruction, we think, that took her out in a hurry. We took her into the ER on Tuesday, and have been driving in to visit her at every chance since then. That night was horrific: I stayed by her and, at the worst point, watched them attempt - no less than eight times - to jam an NG tube through her nose and down her throat to her stomach. My grandma's a trooper, though - she's still making friends with all the nurses and residents on her floor and refusing to complain about all the pain she's in. She may need surgery, but things are stabilizing, thank Christ. My grandma is the glue in our family, the one who chats to everyone and keeps us all updated, the one who hosts all our get-togethers and regales the ladies at the beauty parlor with stories about her grandkids. She's seventy-five, and probably not immortal, I know, but I can't even imagine our family - or our lives - without her. So if you pray, or send out good thoughts into the universe, or do anything of the sort, keep Grandma Bev in mind, yeah?
Two: I've got a new job at the sports park, which is terribly unglamorous but lets me get in a lot of hours before I dash off to dogsit. There's no dress code, and it's mostly just me, in the front office, answering phones and socializing with soccer people. The real perk - and no one warned me about this, believe you me - is that I have close-up access to hot, sweaty soccer boys all day long, and they lend themselves quite willingly to my gay fantasies. Two in particular - Trendy B and his hot young intern - are of interest. Expect updates, and perhaps even some pictures taken on the sly. It all depends on how desperate I get there, friends.
Three: this is more a whole mess of other things that keep me busy. My mother and I are on really fantastic terms and have been watching lots of movies, shuttling back and forth to the hospital, and trying to train my cat to play nice. Sal seems to be getting back in touch with his feral street-cat roots, but I love him more each time he draws blood, so I guess that makes me a masochist. Young Steven and I are likely to reunite and ride rollercoasters together next month, and this news feels both wildly improbable and totally inevitable. Ellen called me today, and I get to see her soon, and that's pretty thrilling. My baby brother's fighting on Saturday and he's designated me his official action photographer, and while I'm leery about watching anyone try to kick my brother's ass, I'm kind of pumped-up for it. Tuesday was the three-year anniversary of the Festival of Peace, which makes me all kinds of nostalgic. It's hard to even remember being that young and ready, when my secrets made me feel lighter, when everything was happening and I had a million choices to make but never worried about choosing wrongly. I mean, that did happen, right? I really was like that; it's not all nostalgia. How lucky, to have felt that way even once, though. And how strange, to look back on it from here.
'Here' is still Erie, which is a problem, but the larger, more intangible 'here,' this stage of my life? Is nearly exactly what I want from it. I like playing with my cat in the morningtime, rolling around on the living room carpet and taking turns in the best patch of sunlight. I like lying in bed with Mom at night, making her laugh before she goes to sleep, then leaving her cool sheets for my trusty green sleeping bag. I like late-night phonecalls with Marshall, all the talk of a lightning-fast yellow subway that should exist for us, her sleepy voice and the way she calls me 'applejack' and all the sounds that have to suffice for her physical absence. I like our morning calls, too, the feeling of waking with her from several states away. Plus, hi, soon I am going to be house-sitting for the professor I used to be too intimidated to even e-mail about assignments! And I'll be back in Asheville, taking long walks with Belly and Boudreux, rereading Harry Potter and writing poetry and reconnecting with people I miss way too much, tonight. So you know, I'm all right. Worried for my grandmother and fighting a killer migraine, but nothing the Hedwig soundtrack can't see me through, tonight. Tomorrow: a chaotic shift I'm woefully unprepared for, an awkward car ride with my father, and a soy chai, if I'm lucky.
One: my darling grandmother, who happens to be one of the best people in the universe, is in the hospital. It came out of nowhere - a nasty bowel obstruction, we think, that took her out in a hurry. We took her into the ER on Tuesday, and have been driving in to visit her at every chance since then. That night was horrific: I stayed by her and, at the worst point, watched them attempt - no less than eight times - to jam an NG tube through her nose and down her throat to her stomach. My grandma's a trooper, though - she's still making friends with all the nurses and residents on her floor and refusing to complain about all the pain she's in. She may need surgery, but things are stabilizing, thank Christ. My grandma is the glue in our family, the one who chats to everyone and keeps us all updated, the one who hosts all our get-togethers and regales the ladies at the beauty parlor with stories about her grandkids. She's seventy-five, and probably not immortal, I know, but I can't even imagine our family - or our lives - without her. So if you pray, or send out good thoughts into the universe, or do anything of the sort, keep Grandma Bev in mind, yeah?
Two: I've got a new job at the sports park, which is terribly unglamorous but lets me get in a lot of hours before I dash off to dogsit. There's no dress code, and it's mostly just me, in the front office, answering phones and socializing with soccer people. The real perk - and no one warned me about this, believe you me - is that I have close-up access to hot, sweaty soccer boys all day long, and they lend themselves quite willingly to my gay fantasies. Two in particular - Trendy B and his hot young intern - are of interest. Expect updates, and perhaps even some pictures taken on the sly. It all depends on how desperate I get there, friends.
Three: this is more a whole mess of other things that keep me busy. My mother and I are on really fantastic terms and have been watching lots of movies, shuttling back and forth to the hospital, and trying to train my cat to play nice. Sal seems to be getting back in touch with his feral street-cat roots, but I love him more each time he draws blood, so I guess that makes me a masochist. Young Steven and I are likely to reunite and ride rollercoasters together next month, and this news feels both wildly improbable and totally inevitable. Ellen called me today, and I get to see her soon, and that's pretty thrilling. My baby brother's fighting on Saturday and he's designated me his official action photographer, and while I'm leery about watching anyone try to kick my brother's ass, I'm kind of pumped-up for it. Tuesday was the three-year anniversary of the Festival of Peace, which makes me all kinds of nostalgic. It's hard to even remember being that young and ready, when my secrets made me feel lighter, when everything was happening and I had a million choices to make but never worried about choosing wrongly. I mean, that did happen, right? I really was like that; it's not all nostalgia. How lucky, to have felt that way even once, though. And how strange, to look back on it from here. 'Here' is still Erie, which is a problem, but the larger, more intangible 'here,' this stage of my life? Is nearly exactly what I want from it. I like playing with my cat in the morningtime, rolling around on the living room carpet and taking turns in the best patch of sunlight. I like lying in bed with Mom at night, making her laugh before she goes to sleep, then leaving her cool sheets for my trusty green sleeping bag. I like late-night phonecalls with Marshall, all the talk of a lightning-fast yellow subway that should exist for us, her sleepy voice and the way she calls me 'applejack' and all the sounds that have to suffice for her physical absence. I like our morning calls, too, the feeling of waking with her from several states away. Plus, hi, soon I am going to be house-sitting for the professor I used to be too intimidated to even e-mail about assignments! And I'll be back in Asheville, taking long walks with Belly and Boudreux, rereading Harry Potter and writing poetry and reconnecting with people I miss way too much, tonight. So you know, I'm all right. Worried for my grandmother and fighting a killer migraine, but nothing the Hedwig soundtrack can't see me through, tonight. Tomorrow: a chaotic shift I'm woefully unprepared for, an awkward car ride with my father, and a soy chai, if I'm lucky.
No comments:
Post a Comment