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Using my 40's as a do-over for my thirties, only smarter. I often mistake the bees and honey reference with the one about free milk and a cow. This might explain my whole life.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

After the SpongeBob birthday marathon

Daniel slipped into a Spongebob induced coma....


He was just sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor. It maked me laugh.

evidence of the crime

I got a letter in the mail a month ago from my work saying that they had hired an outside human resource company to do dependent verification. I thought it meant that I was going to get a letter, confirming who my dependents are, based on who is being covered on my employee health insurance.

I got the official letter from this company last week. I set it aside until yesterday- when I thought that I had better pay attention to the due date, because it's very much like me to do that. What the letter states is that I need to come up with evidence, documents, to prove that these dependents are really mine. That I'm not paying for insurance for... someone elses husband and kids?

unlikely.

So I need to come up with birth certificates for my kids, to prove that they are MY kids. OK fine. I have those, and I can get one for Sarah- connection Sarah to her father- who is connected to me. Perhaps divorce papers showing that he is supposed to provide health insurance. Something like that.

Lastly- and what I find the most funny is that I need to come up with a Marriage Certificate for me and Mike. Hmmmmm.... I don't have this. I never did get an official copy. Was I supposed to? I don't remember. We got married out of state. No not Vegas, but close.

I remember the chapel we got married at. I don't remember applying for a marriage license. I'm sure we did.

Didn't we?

I have no clue. I suspect the nice man would not have married us if we didn't have all the proper forms- right? So I need to look in to this. Get a copy of this marriage certificate, cause I don't think I have one. I've never been asked to prove it before.

And isn't that strange....?

I've never been asked to PROVE that we are married. I want to say that I HAD to have it when I changed my social security number. However, if this was the case... I would know- and remember that I had this license in my possession. I had to look up where to get a copy. You'd think that I'd remember this information. I don't forget having things, I just forget where I put them.

Along with a marriage certificate- I also have to have something else. Some other statement of ownership. Tax forms. Something. I don't have this. We don't own anything together. We don't file taxes together. We don't bank together. You can't make me sign legal documents.

I signed the marriage license, this should be enough.
Wait.... did I?

So I have to prove in more ways that one that I married him. Is the exhaused and defeated look not enough? Is the fact that I actually PAY the medical bills not an indicator that I do it because I HAVE to. I'm nice, but I'm not so nice that I would do this for someone I wasn't legally obligated to do it for.

Ok fine. I will go ahead and get you your documents. We have a lease agreement on our apartment- that's the only thing that has both of our names on it. That and the marriage license we signed.

Apparently.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

why bother?

It's been a long day and it's only 10AM. I woke up at 5AM to find my husband had NOT returned from the ER. So I called him, and yes- he was still there. great.

I text messaged my boss at 6AM and told her that I may or may not be in today, depending on if he comes home from the ER.

Of course, either way I have to go by the office because I need to get his medications- AND there's some things on my work computer that I need to get to. So while I have to miss work because he's sick... again, I still have to make the drive down there when he gets out- even thought I can't actually WORK.

This irritates me to no end.

I figured I'd do some laundry, but the roll of quarters has magically disappeared. Even though I specifically asked someone not to use those quarters for anything other than laundry. I hate having to make extra trips just because someone else has fucked up my system.

My wireless internet connection is not working. Again. Thankfully I have my Verizon Wireless Aircard. My day is pretty much wasted and I'm totally irritated about it because all I wanted to do was be able to get up and go to work today. I may as well just go back to bed.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

small victories

This morning I tackled the tupperware/ gladware/ storage bowl and lid situation. It was overwhelming my pantry and I still could never find a lid for my bowls. So I matched lids with bowls and disposed of old lids and a few old bowls. Now all of it matches and it's all tidy and workable.

I don't win points for my domestic skills, you know?

Sometimes it's the little things.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

sweep THIS!!!

I got a parking ticket yesterday. Reason: Street Sweeper.

Ummmm what?

I've lived in the same complex for almost 7 years now. People park on that side of the street, for days and days. There is no sign. There is no sweepers. Ok- wait, I HAVE seen sweepers, but there is no "No Parking on X day from Y to Z time for street cleaning." The sweeper will weave around and clean certain open parts of the curb. That whole block is extra parking for the people who live in my complex. So you know, Mr. Officer, you are going to have to suck a big dick on that one.

The comment: Saw sweeper come around

What the fuck?

I don't live in the backwoods where seeing a street sweeper vehicle is unheard of. So Mr Officer, you SAW a sweeper, and my car- and decided I was in violation of my car being in the same presence as a sweeper. Is that it? Is my Mini-Van not good enough to share the same BLOCK with a sweeper? Can you find more ways to fuck me up the ass? I mean, you had ALREADY written up a violation for my expired registration, which is really not expired, I just need a smog check, by the way. Hey, I won't argue THAT- but don't think I DON'T know how he giggled while he tucked the SECOND ticket under my windshield knowing that it (this completely bogus piece of shit violation) would completely fuck up my day.

However, I am a law abiding and/or consequence accepting citizen and I will deal with the registration/ smog check issue and or just pay the fine if my 'almost registered' status is not enough. No sweat.

The street sweeping violation, however, is bullshit.
Thanks for playing, dick!



Saturday, July 11, 2009

no more goodbyes

Christine invited me to church with her, just about every week for the duration of our friendship. I used to joke with her, that if she loved her church so much, surely she wouldn't want to see it go up in flames like that? It didn't burst into flames that day, when I finally came to her church. She would have enjoyed the irony of the fact that in the end, she got me to go to her church.

It was a lovely ceremony. When I arrived I saw the 'guys' from my old office. The small sea of suits and the frames of the men I worked with for many years. The undeniable feeling of comfort overwhelmed me, if only for a moment. I walked in a few moments behind them and engaged in the gang bang of hugs- each one of them I squeezed tightly. Even the ones who I knew were not really 'huggers'. It's a funeral, standard rules don't apply.

I hung back a little bit waiting for Michael, who took on the job of dropping the kids off and when he didn't arrive minutes before the ceremony started, I went in and sat down next to an old friend who also came to pay his respects. I think that sitting mostly alone helped me keep it together. Had I been sitting with Michael, or even my girlfriends- the tears would have flown freely. Even sitting somewhat alone, I cried more tears than I thought I had left inside me. For the loss of my friend, and for her family.

Going over all the details will just rip me open again, but there were a lot of moments and things said about her that made me so proud to know her and to have been her friend. It makes me question, again, why she was ever friends with me. She had pretty high moral values and lived with a sense of family, faith, virtue and civic duty. What ever she saw to be friends with a self-indulgent slut like myself... is beyond me. However we shared a friendship that nobody ever questioned. She was somewhat of a balancing factor for me. Always playing the devil's advocate, even though she was ALWAYS on my side, even if I was wrong.

As I am thinking back on the years of our friendship, I see now- how she always looked out for me. She was always checking on me, making sure that I was ok. Always mothering me, in a way that was so subtle that I didn't even notice it. It's Saturday now, and I think that Thursday was a hard day for me. The funeral was over, and it is just time to get on with life. It goes on, for the rest of us. There is guilt that goes along with that. Should I not laugh? Should I not enjoy myself? I feel as if it's not right for me to smile yet, even though my logical brain tells me that this isn't the case.

By the way, I really hate when people say, "Christine wouldn't want you to (insert whatever sad emotion I'm having over her death here)" So please, stop saying it.

Maybe the anger phase isn't quite over, and I don't know if this is bargaining or not. That nagging feeling that she should not have had to die resonates with me. That feeling that it is SO fucking unfair. Nobody deserves to die, but I think that some people truly deserve to LIVE. There was so much talk of how Christians don't fear death and they should be joyful.... all that. I don't know. Maybe if I was religious, all of this would be easier to deal with.

Without that, I guess I'm somewhat lost in a sea of questions about morality and mortality. I don't have any joy about her death. Call me crazy.

I am grateful that she is not in pain anymore. She suffered in her last days. While I don't know that I buy the idea that she is in a "better place now" - she's not in this place where she was in pain. This place, where her brain was being consumed by cancer, which is a disease that in itself, makes me question the very existence of God.

Her mom told me, "You know Julie- nobody gets out of this world alive."

I think that is the only answer I'm going to get.


Monday, July 06, 2009

little moments

For as simple and fair skinned as she was, she really liked color. She had this bright blue suit that she'd sometimes wear to work. I mean, a ROYAL blue. And against her fair skin, it was quite striking. Sometimes she'd rock the red top and bright red lipstick. She pulled it off as if it was nothing at all.

Not a lot of women can pull off bright red lipstick on a work day. Even for me, it's a bit bold.

Today she wore a shiny peach color on her lips. She wore a high neck dress to cover her tumors. She looked... peaceful. Everyone says that when you go to a viewing. That they looked peaceful. Well, of course she did. She looked more alive in her death that she did the last day she was alive.

The minute you walk in the door or a mortuary you are hit with it. That scent that reminds me death. Actually it's flowers. Carnations. The overwhelming scent of fresh flowers. I walked up the stairs, following the sound of voices and coming around the corner to vaguely familiar faces. We didn't know each other, not formally. However I knew they were her friends from church and I was her friend from work.

I immediately saw her cousin, who was there with her that last night. She hugged me tight for we shared this. The whole time Christine and I knew each other, she talked often about this cousin, but we never met. No, we met at Christine's bedside, the night before she died. She hugged me for a long time. She was crying. I tried to keep it together and I had just walked in the room. People were looking and I felt immediately consious of this. She was leaving, and said she would see me tomorrow. "You know, we were the last ones to see her," she said. I nodded. Yes, I knew. "I can't believe she's gone."

"Me neither," I said to her. I squeezed her hand and we smiled. That knowing smile of support for we had shared something so special to each of us we probably wish we didn't have to share it with the other person.

With her cousin making her exit, I greeted her mom and dad. Her dad reached his hand out to me and I hugged him. Her parents are such warm and loving people. I had spent a few holidays with them. Her mom always welcomed me into there home. Turkey, cheesy greenbeans, the chocolate fountain. There was always a seat for me and my boys at her table.

She hugged me now and said the same, that she looks peaceful. "But Julie, it's not her. She's not here anymore. She's with the Lord now and that is just her body."

I started crying then. I think because I struggle with God and the ideas of Heaven and all, that I find less peace in that statement than some would. There is peace in knowing she is no longer in any pain. I looked around the room at the flowers and the collage of photographs.

Surreal. A whole collage of photos of my best friend. Many I had seen, some I hadn't. Picture of her climbing out of a paddle boat. In a pool with some snorkeling gear. Hooked up to a parasail. Line Dancing. Prom. So many pictures with her daughter. Photographs of her the way I remember her. I smiled, looking at each picture for a long time. Taking it in and appreciating that she had a full life with lots of fun experiences. She was daring, but you'd never really think so if you'd met her.

In the adjoining room to the left, was her casket. It was a shiny lilac color with a simply purple flower design embroidered in the lid. Her hands were crossed over her stomach. Her thin, frail hands. She always had pretty long fingers but she was never able to grow her nails. They were longer now and painted that same shiny peach as her lipstick.

I wanted to touch her, but I didn't. I wanted to stroke her face, but I didn't. She looked better than she had when I saw her last. That last night she looked sunken and sickly. Skin stretched over a skeleton. She was plagued with disease. Now she looked sleeping. Quiet. Almost as if she was going to open her eyes and say, "Stop your crying!!"

For what seemed like a long time I stared at her lifeless body. I was joined by another co-worker/ friend and we shared memories. We laughed and reminisced about her red lipstick. Her affinity for girly things like floral prints, dangly earrings, and her love for Disneyland. We stood together, looking at her body. I was grateful that she looked better than that last day that I rushed to her side, to say my goodbye to this woman who I will remember as one of my best friends.

I had approached her and taken her hand. I told her that I had to go but I would be back tomorrow. Maybe she wasn't sleeping, but was just so medicated that she couldn't be awake. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was all the energy should could pull together and she spoke. I could not understand her words, her voice was.... froggy. Yes, I know she was trying to tell me she wasn't scared. That I should not be scared. To take care of the boys. To check on her daughter. To travel. To trust. To love. To live my life. That she loved me. That she knew I loved her. I know she was telling me all those things in those few words that she was trying so hard to get out. I stroked her hands then, calming her, "Shhhh, it's ok. It's ok now. Rest. Shhhh...." I was overcome with tears as she closed her eyes and fell 'back to sleep'.

This is how we said goodbye. I had every intention of coming back the next day, but I think she knew. I think she was ready. While I will never forgive myself for not spending more time with her in her final months, I will always feel grateful for that moment.

Friday, July 03, 2009

She loved Disneyland



November 2007

Christine and the bug soup

I'm overwhelmed with emotions lately. I keep thinking of Christine and trying to piece together memories. The years of our friendship weaves together into flashes of time. For years, we had lunch together at least three times a week. We ran errands at lunch, paid our bills, did our banking, went shopping- sometimes we even ate lunch.

So many little memories...

There is a cafe that was in the next building that made amazing soups and salads. Christine really liked this soup. Chicken and Wild Rice. It was pretty good but I couldn't eat it because the wild rice always looked like bugs. The wild rice was also a little more firm, furthering my 'bug' theory. I used to laugh and tell her if there WERE bugs in there, you'd never know. She loved it, and every Thursday we'd go there and I'd get the jambalaya and she'd get the bug soup. Just yesterday I got some Tomato Florentine Soup at the cafeteria at work and there was rice in it. As I was ladeling the soup into my bowl, I said outloud, "ah... bug soup." I stopped and the memory came back to me... and I started to cry.

I can't put this together in my head. Maybe it's because I didn't see her getting sick. Maybe because before two weeks ago, in my mind she was still well. I didn't know she was so sick. Her mom told me that when she was diagnosed three years ago, the doctors gave her 2-5 years. I do remember her telling me that but I think that I just blocked that out. The first year, her treatments seemed to be working. The second year, she was getting thinner, but she still wasn't really 'sick'. She wasn't losing her hair, her tumors were not spreading any farther. Not until year three. It would have been three years this August. 2-5 years, they said. They were right.

Perhaps my view of how things happened are different than they really were. Clearly there were things she didn't want to tell me. Clearly she wanted me and all of her friends to remember her in her healthier days. I guess I can't argue with that logic.

She was a better friend to me than I was to her. When I look back at all the wonderful things she did for me and my family, more on that another time. I don't have the tissues for it right now.

Until the end she thought of the everyone elses feelings more than she thought of her own suffering. I will never forgive myself for not being there more for her in those last months.

But I know I am a better person for having known her at all.

Wednesday, July 01, 2009

goodbye, dear friend

I don't know how to write my feelings. I don't know how to express anything right now.
My friend, one of my best friends, has died and I feel that part of me has died with her.

It feel empty and sad and beside myself. I got a message on Tuesday night that she had taken a turn. This morning I got a call around 9AM with the news that she had passed this morning. I am grateful that I went to see her last night. I am grateful that I got to say goodbye. She knew I was there, and while I could not understand the final words she spoke to me, I know what she said.

I am mostly grateful for the friendship I was fortunate enough to share with her for the past 10 years.

As the days pass I know will talk more about it. I am flooded with memories of her and I just can't believe that she's gone.