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3 glasses of cheap pink sweet wine into my night.
11 boxes packed.
8 bags of trashed hauled to the curb.
Two sets of mattresses in the hallway ready to be taken to the truck.
I am almost 35. Why am I dragging around so much crap? Seriously. We just moved a half of a year ago and I have boxes that are unopened and nothing really missing from my daily trek through life.
My Mother’s condition worsens.
My financial condition worsens.
My relationship remains stable and loving but in a holding pattern…
Its 9 freakin thirty and the movers will be here in 11.5 hours.
I am moving back from the burbs where I can escape my neighbors and friends at all times. I will be forced to see them all on a freakin daily basis. The grocery store. The dogpark. The f*cking coffee house.
I will be doing my duty as a child. I will be saving for a house and more freedom. I will be going to school.
Did I mention that I have decided to become a Veterinarian? Thats right. The school that is more difficult to get into than medical school. No stress. Really.
Found a stash of tomato boxes left over from the farmers market. Good for picture frames and DVD’s.
I won’t be able to escape my friends.
My friends will be closer.
My f*cking shrink will be 5 blocks away.
My dogs will love going for runs over the bridge and around the monuments. They will miss the yard but I think they would rather be with me while I trudge through a workout than in a yard alone while I cook dinner.
I will be closer to my Grandparents and the baby.
I won’t be able to escape my Grandparents and the baby.
I should probably shut up and finish packing.
I just tossed every magazine I own, all clothing I don’t love and books I will never read.
Thank you Oprah.
Finally the radio silence has ended. I survived the lack of internet, oh and the fucking flu, and I am back just a few pounds lighter.
Still no sex to speak of. GodDAMNit.
Although I have my new friend we will call “lillybelle” at work who tells me about her every orgasm and her stallion man. Which I do enjoy – but it makes me start thinking about far away loves and my born again virgin status.
Yes I am pulling my big girl panties up.
Anyway I missed you all and hope to hear whats new!
I was born into the biggest family you can imagine. No – I don’t have 17 siblings and my parents didn’t either. But if you go back to my grandparent’s generation (the surviving 2 are almost 95 yrs old) there were 5-6 kids in each of our local families and they were very close and still spend as much time together as possible.
4-5 generations later… Last night my “baby” cousin Lydia (who is a married Doctor and speaks Japanese) stopped for the night on her way home from a quick trip to Pennsylvania. As we munched our burgers and drank beer – laughed and shared pictures, it struck me that each of them are home to me. And there are HUNDREDS of them.
The (still) annual descent on our little beach town in NC was an amazing thing for me growing up. It was the most stability I could ever imagine. I knew without a doubt, that every August, come hell, highwater or hurricane (we have experienced all), I would be enveloped for a week or two by my enormous family. My mother would relax into the southern atmosphere (and libations) and leave me the fuck alone for a while. My cousins and Aunts and Uncles always seemed to understand that I came from a home that was less than perfect and they would spend the full extent of our trip loving me and building me up. Some years it honestly was enough to carry me through the next twelve months. My Uncles (who have all passed away now) Vance, Marcus, Jack, Bill and Guy(the most recent loss and biggest sting tonight) would remind me how strong I was. It was as if they just sensed what I needed by some strange psychic genetic thing. My aunts (most are still here) taught me all the southern belle things my mother DETESTED about her heritage. I laughed at most of it but to this day still embrace a lot of it!
When I got older, the time I spent with my various branches of said family served as my “refresh” button. I processed things by talking about what happened and hearing their opinions. Events in my life seem to attain status and meaning in my life by being known to my family. Heartbreak, medical things (small and big), my mother’s deterioration… When my Lydia left this morning I just took a deep breath, processed the past few months and moved forward with strength in my heart.
They are mostly crazy, very drunk, so hysterical it hurts, loving, accepting, judgemental and strong. They marry and procreate and divorce and die. They leave big marks on this world or are hardly heard. The span every inch of the states and parts of the world beyond. But they are ALL mine and I am all theirs. I can not imagine a world without any single one of them. We fight, we forgive, we welcome babies and say goodbye at funerals but mostly we stand fiercely together no matter how far apart we are and make sure we are all ok. Its nice to realize that I no longer need to be at the beach to process and move forward with my life. I can achieve the same thing in one day with one of them. Any of them.
This morning my cousin Jane (Lydia’s sister) called and we had a long conversation about her boyfriend. She and I haven’t spoken in almost 8 months but as always it seemed as if we have never been apart. I could tell she was processing. I provided her with a touchstone and a loving voice. We may not speak again for a while, but we both know we could and come hell or highwater we will spend a week or two together in August.
Family gathering numbing agent.
In a pretty glass sitting next to a candle-lit, fragrant bubble bath.
Tear inducer.
Evenings at J.’s house laughing about our kids. Crying over the men in our lives. Becoming family.
Aphrodisiac.
Sipped slowly while reading a good book.
Temporary pain avoidance.
Cheaper than an hour with my shrink.
Truth serum.
fumbling towards myself 
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