Christmas Lists

I am crying laughing at how great my family is right now. Every year the funniest part of the holiday for me is reading everyone's gift idea lists. Such an adorable glimpse into the minds and hearts of my loved ones.

To be fair we will start with some highlights from mine:

Sweaters (I threw out most of my clothes in this move) large. I don’t care what they look like
Mittens! Black and cozy.
A scratching post for the boys
A metal real tea pot. Like the kind that boils water and whistles and all that. You know, for tea.
A curling iron or rollers. Big size. Probably rollers because I'm lazy.
Good shampoo and conditioner (don't tell anyone but my scalp itches)
Slippers
Jammies (not too hot...i mean as in temp not sexiness)

My sister Kendra lives alone and has very simple, yet specific wants:
a pretty wine glass
keurig coffee or cider or other hot drinks...I have the machine but need fun drink choices
a winter themed wreath for outside but not Christmas related

My oldest sister, Jacy, might be the funniest one in our family but she is so subtle with her jokes that she is terribly underrated.

• Haunted Wisconsin-paperback.
• A colorful big umbrella,
• yankee car scent hanging thing,
• nail polish-light color.
• Any kind of cool book bag for my work stuff and lunch etc...
• Any earrings silver or gold color.
• Anything x-mas-love ornaments, knick knacks, paddy wacks, bones.


My mom does both her list and my dad's. Here is her's which is just about as adorable as it gets.

CT, I need a new calendar-something literary or really neat-you know. I always love writing pens, fine point black. I would love some soft socks for night time , fingernail polish (not pink) literary t-shirt, x-large, some neat small tea-light holders. little sentimental things I could hang in my study window, white, black , brown, creme tip towels for our bathrooms, a x7 mag. make-up mirror on a plain stand, no lights, no frills, just good magnification and will move whatever way you need. Oh, the tip towels could be combinations of red, white and black for my bathroom and combo of brown and creme or light blue for Calvin's. I love British stuff and a new hair brush. Plus, I would like a new recliner for Calvin, the house painted upstairs and down, a new light over my kitchen sink. I would also like a new refrigerator, washer and dryer, landscaping in the front yard, house cleaner, record player.....gasp. I can't go on. Love, Momma

I had no idea my mom wanted a record player. I plan to get her a British hairbrush.

Here is HER list for my dad:

He loves shower gel, that shaving creme you got him, work gloves, p.j.'s large or ex. depending on the brand. Use your judgement. Handkerchiefs, socks- hot dogs or single color but not athletic. I hope that helps.

It helps a great deal mom, thanks. It should be noted that the term "hot dogs" means fancy in my family. People can be hot dogs, socks, houses...anything fancy. Even hot dogs could technically be hot dogs if they had caviar on them maybe.

Sweet little Jason just wants a new record needle. God bless us, everyone.

Dream Tan

I had a dream last night that I was in a contest to try and apply fake tanner lotion as evenly and quickly as possible. I would put it on and it instantly would streak and look orange or a horrible pea green. I kept yelling "it's too late to go back! Help!" but everyone was just laughing and agreeing that I really never got over the 80's.

Rude, everyone. Rude.

You Meta, You Meta, You Bet!

I am working on a big project with a favorite person (Hi E!) and one of my assignments was to read my entire blog, top to bottom, and pull some favorite posts. I did it. Lord have mercy. Talk about a weird little trot down the lane of memories.

So many pictures. So many moments. So many ups and downs. So many times I said I was going to lose weight and go to grad school. Seven years!

It made me realize I want to start using it again as a daily update with pics. I miss doing that and future me will miss being able to look back on them from my under water space lair.

Also, life is wonderful right now. I know it won't always be. (If you don't believe that just read the Six Flags ride that is this blog) But I've slowly started to be able to just enjoy and not worry quite so much. I'm thankful to my crazy life for that. It's nice. A relief.

Enough about THAT! Let's have fun again!


Here is Jason reminding us all that he may be sassy but he's an independent go-getter who don't need no man to define him! Tyler Perry's I Look GOOD Bein' This Strong! Starring Jason Prah.

Jeffrey Chambertain is a special guy. Very very......special.

Mr. Robert Seeger is always runnin against the wind. Against the wind.

our music

I've been thinking a lot about our inner music. How music makes us feel so deeply. There are songs I've heard and songs I haven't heard yet that make me feel like I'll never be the same again. In the best way. Stirring is the best word for it. They stir my cells up. Redistributing the love and fear and memories and wild guesses about my life.

I found this this link yesterday and have listened to it about 35 times since. It made me feel like weeping. Again, in the best way possible.

Anyway, listen to it.

It's all of us.

I think that's what gets me about it. The unity of man, animals, nature creating our vibrations/melody of our home.

http://idealab.talkingpointsmemo.com/2012/10/earth-sound.php

I sent it to my dad because we are very alike about our feelings on the grandness of it all. The big and the giant. The so tiny that they are almost invisible. It's all of us and it makes me feel love and loved. Forever, never alone.

This was his reply and I'll save it forever.


"Love your music and earths. Maybe all of creation, all creatures and plants and more sing their song but we just don't have the ears to listen. Maybe we could hear if we listened differently. Maybe it would be so overwhelming if we could hear all that symphony of life we would just sit and starve as the concert went on and on. Maybe we could bring chips and drinks. So much uncertain. Love, Dad"

Chicken Little Dreams

I typed "Chicken Little Creams" the first time which actually sounds delicious. "Tonight our special is the braised lamb shank with a carrot foam and chicken little creams". Delightful. We'll take two.

Anyway, I had a dream I wanted to get down.

I know why I had it. I know exactly what it means.

The why: Parenthood. The most precious, overly produced, emotionally manipulative show on tv. And I never....miss....an ep. Sigh. Anyway, SPOILER ALERT, last night's ep ended with a main character finding out she has breast cancer. It was TOTALLY out of left field and that made me mad until I thought...."wait...it's always out of left field." I felt like I had been bitch slapped by a walrus when I found out. So well done stupid Parenthood.

It made me cry in that way where all of a sudden there is a rock in your chest and your eyes start leaking like someone took the bubble gum out of your damn.

I shook it off and went to bed. Dumb move. I should have watched an ep of something like Benny Hill or whatever to clear my pallet.

The dream:

It was night and I was at a place called Starved Rock but it wasn't the real Starved Rock. It was a giant ocean and then mountains made out of this black spongy stuff that would fall away as you tried to climb it. I was carefully edging up one of the hills to try and see the water but was yelling to everyone "people die here a lot! be careful!" and then started shaking violently.

I closed my eyes like I knew what was coming. Then I heard the sound of a body falling to the ground with a sickening thud and then the panicked splashing and swimming of people below trying to save the most certainly dead person. I opened my eyes and it just kept happening. People on land weeping, trying to put the bodies back together of their loved ones. Others swimming out into the ocean desperately to avoid being crushed by the falling people.

Then I made the decision to just look at the ocean and the sky and fireworks started going off. I watched them and cried and tried with every cell in my body to shut out the chaotic sounds of death and mayhem to my right.

I woke up exhausted and sad but made myself think about it until I came up with....

The What:

Obviously the black and spongy mountains are tumors and illness. People falling from the sky are what I can't control. I can't shout loudly enough to make sure no one I love gets sick. It just won't work. Science and all that. So why not just try and see some pretty lights in the sky? That's how I've chosen to live and be. But no matter how many fireworks I find there is still chaos and mayhem to my right. Finding the balance of being realistic and staying optimistic as not to betray who I've always been is an interesting journey for me. Not bad. Not easy. Just an enormous part of the rest of my adventure of self.

Conclusion:

Parenthood is really getting hacky but I do love Ray Romano. Everybody does!

Thank Cog for Calv

It might just be this fall music mix I'm making but something is stirred in me or shaken...on the rocks? Not sure. It's not bad. It's lovely actually. Just a strong current that pulls my tide in and out like crazy.

Most of it was seeing my 20 year old nephew off this weekend. Remembering feeding him from a bottle. How one day he said "Crescent...you know who made that tree? Cog." How he used to hide under pillows when Lorelei and I would baby sit him and would shout "SOMEBODY!!! ANYBODY!!!!" until we came to find him. All of us laughing hysterically. How one day he asked me why I called him Pumpkin all the time. I told him because that was the only type of pie I really really loved. He replied "oh. Well then I'm going to call you Peaches."

As he headed into adolescence I saw that he loved music the same way I did and had growing up. It made me so happy. We would talk about the coolest bands...the best songs. Take turns exchanging cds. Talk about how when he turned 21 we'd go to lots of concerts, and we will.

Then he went to college. My college. Flourished. So smart. So fun. Great kid.

He leaves Wednesday for London for four months. I really only see him once a month but still. I will miss him so much. He applied for and received an internship with Parliament. Not the funk band. The government body. Holy crap, right? To say we are all proud of him would be so inadequate a statement that I will just skip trying to find a suitable alternative.

I took the bus to Madison for his going away party. He picked me up at the bus stop and we talked about the trip. We drove with the windows open and the music playing. Feeling more like a friend than an Aunt. When did he learn to drive by the way? Oh yeah years ago.

I took the same semester abroad in 1997 (hold on....gotta take my fiber and soak my teeth). I didn't have an internship...unless I got some credits for pint drinking...can't remember.

Anyway, the party was great. I listened to him talk to family about what he'd be doing. About what he thinks. About what he feels. His current thoughts on "Cog". We watched two movies together that we loved. Talked film. Talked life. It just moved me.

It's no secret I want children. It's no secret that very well may not happen. It may be a secret that I'm actually really coming to healthy terms with that. The thing is looking backward and forward on his life I have had and will get the distinct pleasure of knowing him well at each stage. It is a balm on that ache like no other. To share the pride, the worry the love and the joy of his 20 years on this planet has been a gift for not just me but our whole family.

I can't wait him to take the next stage. I'll be there.

Fresh kittens!

Our new little boys! Jeffrey Chambertain and Robert Seeger. They are wonderful little squishy, fluffy maniacs! I could stare into their tiny eyes all day and never get tired of it.

They definitely have the spirit of their forefelines, Caliban and Trinculo.

Although I'm worried I'm going to be that "friend" mom that lets them try sips of beer as long as they aren't driving. They are monsters sometimes and I just can't bring myself to tsk tsk them. They can run across my face and jump onto a lampshade and I'll try being stern but then they look at me with those teeny tinys and I am a puddle of ineffective parenting.

And I am loving every minute of it.

Science Water and Sad Good-Byes

Well he's gone. We put him down on Monday morning. He came and got us in our room. He hadn't been able to walk more than a few feet for a couple days and that little SOB made it all the way to our room. Gave us a few weak mews and we know it was time. So did he. The whole thing was HEARTBREAKING but beautiful. He laid his head in Jason's hand as he went. It was time, it was time. I keep saying that over and over but it really was.

Jason and I had a great talk last night about the milestones that come with pet loss. When my childhood cat, Marble, died I was about to move out of the house I'd grown up in and broke up with a boyfriend. The one before Jason, in fact. When Trinculo died we realized we had to get our collective lives together. When Ava died I realized I needed a new job. Watching Caliban go was this amazing ride of all of it. He's been there for almost all of it. The Crescent and Jason years I mean. College, moving, very hard times, very great times, cancer, loss of loved ones, he was there. Our totem. Now he's gone but I feel more full than empty. When he went I feel like he lifted all that anxiety I've been having about more hard times these past few months. That crippling fear that I won't be able to handle the rest of my life. Gone. I saw a cat that was ready for the next adventure and I felt his relief as he went. It gave me this blanket of comfort that we can all do this. Like my dad said....cats aren't worried about tomorrow. They aren't afraid of death. The just embrace and embrace and embrace. So that was my universe gift from losing really my favorite pet ever. We can do this. It will all be okay. Except when it won't but we can do that too.

Smokey the cat (my oldest sister's sweet tabby) had to be put down yesterday after some illness with his thyroid. So not a good week for cats in our lives. Or maybe a great week. They were both really ready. They are probably back to their fat and fluffy selves somewhere in the vastness of it all.

In other news my last words to Jason from my bed to him in the kitchen last night were "Don't touch it or you'll will compromise the science!"

I put a bottle of water (I know....I know.....million years to biodegrade....why not use a cup....why do you hate earth....yes yes. I almost NEVER have bottles of water at home but someone gave it to me as a your cat is dead gift, OK?) in the freezer all day yesterday. I took it out right before bed and put it on the counter for night time drinks. I wanted to see if it would stay cold all the way to my 5am water break. Jason was up until midnight doing laundry so I was worried he'd sample but he didn't. Until I told him he could at the 2am water break and then he drank all of it. So we have no answers here, people. We were ALMOST through the looking glass but Prah got greedy.

Also we are getting kittens soon. Even typing that I started crying tears of excitement. I've only had older cats my whole life so...you know....oh my god. I keep dreaming of how fluffy they might be. Caliban would've wanted it that way. He always seemed like he just wanted us happy. He was a big part of that.

Gallows Humor

So we are pretty sure Caliban is dying. I don't really want to talk about it right now because my eyes are so puffy from crying all night last night that I fear one more tear and I'll lose my ability to wink, which i LOVE doing so that would be tragic.

Also I have friends going through much harder times so I don't want to get all "poor me and my old man cat". It'll be awful but we will be okay and I will keep you posted. He is an American treasure for sure and loved by the masses.

ANYWAY, I was in Jewel in a last ditch effort to find SOMETHING the poor old guy might eat and I accidentally looked at the cat toys and started BAWLING. In the store. At like 6pm. I had texted my dad prior to that saying:

"hey Daddy. I think Caliban might be on his way out. He's really bony and lethargic."

My dad's reply not two seconds later was simply:

"You spelled my name wrong. It's C A L V I N."

I laughed so hard that I forgot all about the sadness of cat toys and remembered the happiness of family and friends. It was a big help. Although I'm sure someone called the cops on me once I went from sobbing to laughing in the cat food aisle.

Of course my dad followed his joke with this:

"I have learned much from cats. No fear of death, agitation about tomorrow, and quiet facing death. As long as suffering is not great or lengthy, they just participate as in all things on the journey of cats, people, stars, all. Nothing destroyed. Every atom present from beginning. All transformed. Caliban was, is, shall be...what is the next mystery but no doubt about continuance of the great adventure of being. Grieve the loss but no despair or doubt."

There goes my chance to be the varsity winking champion of Cook County.

Feline Lucky

I woke up Sunday morning around 7:30 to find Caliban (our 18 year old orange Tabby) unable to walk. It was horrible. He was, literally, scooting himself around in circles trying to get up. When he would finally get up he'd fall back over, unable to put any weight on his back right foot. I handled it in my normal, level headed way by bursting into tears and waking Jason up by saying "Something is horribly wrong!". Smooth Operator was my code name when I was in Top Gun.




We rushed him to the Vet ER (also known as the saddest, most depressing, soul crushing place on earth). They got him right in for x-rays while we waited in the lobby trying to prepare ourselves for the decisions ahead, all while attempting not to make eye contact with all the sick and injured dogs sadly limping around.




The vet brought us back to see the x-ray and said there was a mass around his ankle that could be cancer but could also just be arthritis. She said “Hey cats can live without a leg!”. Needless to say we are not going to put our 18 year old cat through amputation. Basically we were sent home with crazy powerful pain meds and the advice of “He might get better or you might need to start planning for more tests or saying good-bye”. Horrible. She was a wonderful vet though. That really was the only advice to give. So we got him home and doped up. The meds were supposed to make him sleep but they seemed to keep him up and crazy. He kept staring at the candle on the table and then at me. We put on some Bob Dylan and let him ride it out. “It’s all about the journey man. Live the experience, dude.”




Our friends came over to entertain and distract us. We still cried a lot. We talked about who Caliban was to us and how we loved him in a profound way. How Jason had found him, with his brother, at a vet in Branson when they were tiny kittens. How he and Trinculo (his brother) would terrorize us by running around the apartment pooping in all our potted plants. The funny and wonderful history of this animal that has lived with us since we were in college. 18 years. That’s a long time.




That leads me to one of the few unexplainable by science events in my life. (including but not limited to the time in high school I thought I got a phone call from future me. Although I was pretty dramatic back then. It was probably my sister harassing me since we have the same voice. hmm I think I just solved that mystery.)




Right around the time that we were waiting to see if my cancer had spread and what the course of treatment/surgery would be I was home alone with Caliban on my lap. I was terrified and crying and petting him. His face was, as usual, all up in my grill rubbing against my left ear while I bawled my head off. At this time he was starting to get skinny, his fur was matted and dry and his eyes were always squinty and sore looking. He was showing signs of kidney failure and didn’t seem long for the world. We knew he was probably going to have to be put down sooner than later but couldn’t have that conversation while also waiting for test results to find out if my cancer was in my bones. Slightly bigger fish to fry and all that.




Anyway, that night I was alone and therefore didn’t care that I was about to have a very poignant conversation, aloud, with my cat. I took his head in my hands and said, “Mr. Monster (his nickname)…if you can just hold on one more year and help us through this you can let go. But please not yet. It will break our already weak hearts. I know it’s a lot to ask but we just aren’t ready for you to go.”




I felt totally selfish asking this of a rickety old cat that had moved with us a total of seven times including two in a Nissan Sentra to and from Branson without air-conditioning with two other howling cats. A cat that lost his brother far too young. A cat that never complained when we were so poor we had to eat donuts for a week while he got generic brand cat chow probably made from cardboard. A cat that sat on my lap and let me sob out a request to hang in there a little longer so I could get through cancer a little easier.




A few days later Jason and I were hanging out trying to keep it together when Jason confessed to me that he had asked Cal to try and hang in there a little longer for us the previous night. When I started crying and said I’d had the same conversation we both laughed through tears about how alike we are but also what an awesome a cat he was.




Now you can choose to believe or not believe but I promise you this is the truth.




Within a few weeks I noticed him eating more. His fur started to fluff back up to its normal soft, just out of the salon condition. His eye cleared up. He started playing with yellow fish (his favorite toy) again. By the time my surgery rolled around he was starting to get a belly on him again. While I recovered he spent every waking moment on my lap but always so careful not to sit on my lumpectomy area. Like he knew I was hurt.


When chemo rolled around he looked about five years younger and has stayed that way since. Every night when I’d wake up with joint pain and fevers he would groggily wake up from his chair and meander over to me as I got settled on the sofa for a night of misery and never leave my side. He would find the times Jason needed him too. I have a picture of them together one day and it almost looks like Caliban is the one holding Jason instead of the other way around.





Sunday was the first time since our talks with him that we thought maybe he was a goner again and I’m happy to say that little curmudgeon is walking just fine as of last night. He’s off the pain meds (although I’m sure he’ll never forget the night he could hear rainbows and cosmically understand ice cubes). Heart of a champion!




He ended up giving us way more than one year since that talk and apparently is still hanging in there, generous old man that he is.




Last night when I got home he jumped up on my lap even though I tried to stop him to keep him from re-injuring his ankle. He was doing the intense face on my left ear rubbing thing and I stopped him and grabbed his face again, looked him right in the cloudy old eyes and said “thank you buddy.”




Sometimes a cat isn’t just a cat.

Rubberband Ball Update

2010





Today


Huh. it doesn't look that much bigger but it has to be, right?

Taking Back the Nacht

Jason freaked out again last night when I came back into the room after a 2am water break. This one was the loudest most afraid I've seen him yet. All of his limbs flew up in the air at the same time and he made this super deep and terrified "UHHHHAA" sound. Then he said "Croissant....why do you DO that!" What?? Walk back into my room after some water? (Truth: Diet 7UP out of the bottle). Also, it's not like I dress up for bed or anything but it's also not like I put on white zombie make-up, giant monster hands and a fright wig. Although my shirt did say CANCUN FIESTA AMERICANA! which could be taken as a threat, I suppose.

In other nocturnal news I'm finally trying to get a hold of my insomnia/anxiety problem. It's a long story as to how I got there but I'm seeing a psychologist that specializes in the wrecked nerves (I still say nu-ewvs like a Bugs Bunny just because it's more fun) that occur during and after the cancer funtimes.

Mostly just because I need to get some sleep. For some reason night has always been a less than optimal time for my heart and head. I remember as a child seeing that first hint of morning light and thinking "In a few short hours I will have some company!" Then I would listen with every ear muscle I had for any sign of my family waking up.

So sleep has never really been my thang. I love it! Don't get it twisted, holmes. Sleep rules the school. I just am not great at it. Add to that a crippling fear that everyone I love is going to get sick the next day, including me (that's right...I love me too) and you've got yourself some eye bags that would go PERFECTLY with Paris Hilton's new pink hoodie-dress.

I also want to get totally off of any sleep aids. They make my stomach funky and my head hazy. Plus I like the challenge of being a sleep champion without performance enhancing drugs.

My therapist gave me some great advice and a CD about breathing techniques which I'm now totally obsessed with. I probably will annoy you with what I've learned the next time we meet so maybe prepare a few things to daydream about while I go on and on and on ahead of time. Work on your furrowed brow and interested nodding. You'll thank me later.

She also said to make bedtime a routine in relaxing. So I make tea(I'm going to get a real proper tea kettle today I think), make my bed up nice, brush and floss, take 10 mgs of Melatonin (yes I realize that could be taken as a sleep aid that I just said I wouldn't take but it's like all natural, man. Also it's been found to fight cancer and I like fighting cancer when I am able) then I go to bed and do my breathing work. I gotta tell you. Aside from the night Jason had stomach flu and I was up doing a lot of back rubbing and "sorry I gave this to you"ing, it's working like a charm. I still wake up a couple times but not for long and I'm able to keep the really dark thoughts away by just letting them pass through instead of having them in for a sleep over.

Last night I DID dream that I was in an 80's horror movie where the killer would cut the people in half and then spear their body with their own legs in broad daylight in NYC. Then he'd put them in yellow bags and the bags all would still be moving. But you know...baby steps and all that. Even that dream wasn't ALL horrifying. As I was running away from him I found a really cute candle shop and got some incense I liked.

I'm also down ten full pounds. I feel a little more in control of my emotions as I get more sleep. Go figure. Work is good. I have a new laptop so I've been writing a lot more. Today is good. That's as far as I need to get at a time. When I remember that I high five myself. But then at the last minute I do the psych out hair smooth move to keep myself in check.

Calmarse!

That means CALM DOWN. Which I can't do. Because I am going to Mexico with my hermanas and brother in law and amore' on Sunday.

We are staying HERE!!!!!



Come on. Do you SEE all those swimming pools and do you SEE all that ocean? It's no secret that water is sort of my favorite thing in the world and that swimming is the only sport-type thing I love to do.

I also like to drink margarita's with my sisters on a BEACH!!! OH and I also like getting a massage at a spa even though I've never done it before but am going to in four days!

Um and oh yeah, I ALSO like being with my husbo for four whole days in a ROW!

I was up all night last night with happiness stomach flips. I have so much work to finish up but am all out of focus. My sunglasses and black dinner dress just arrived and it spun me back into crazed excitment mode.

I am trying my best to reign it in. I'm currently drinking a tea with the word "Calm" on the bag with the hope it has magic powers. So far it just tastes like roses and Splenda.

I'm going to plan to have a Diet root beer around 4pm as a treat to keep my mind off of things. Here's hoping that will work.

I will take loads of pictures and report back in two weeks.

nos vemos más tarde retoños! (see ya later suckaz!) I don't think you're suckaz, you guys. I just like the way it translates.

lo siento por el comentario de los retoños

Nevermind.

I feel basically 100% better. I think I just had a little funk/hormone hitch in my giddy up. Turns out a weekend in Michigan with some wonderful girlfriends and a Friday with lots of attention from Jason was all I needed. Phew. Glad my heart remains fairly simple to lift.

BUT I did learn some valuable lessons from my last, Charlie Brown-esqe post. Just do the stuff you mean to do. Simple. So today I quit drinking soda of any kind. I have gotten into a terrible Diet Coke habit and it's just such a dumb thing to drink. So it's out. I'm starting my walking again today since it's so pretty out. I might even....gulp....join that gym.

Also, I'm in a band. A band that I started with Anne. It's going to be super fun for all. I can't WAIT until I can announce our first gig. You will all come and dance your faces off.

And really all that matters right now is that in 14 days I will be in Mexico on a beach reading books and happy sighing a lot.

In conclusion, I was again reminded the past two weeks that my greatest victory in life remains the people I get to love and who love me back. They all make me laugh until I cry and also cry with me at Gannon's, if need be. (winking at M and T and J).

So life is super groovy and I'm glad I have one.

Love and kitten paws,
Crescent

Valentine's Times.

I have no real idea why but I have been a teary eyed mess the past couple of weeks. Okay I lied. I have some ideas. I think some of it is my medicine that blocks my hormones and then making pretend hormones to try and trick my body. My body is not easily fooled and doesn't like these wannabe estrogen impostors.

Also, mid February. Am I right? Good lord. It's just a bleak, gray, cold time out there.

Also, babies. Always with the babies. It's a real thing with me. It's also hard to watch Jason want them too. Makes me sadder than a one legged puppy at a puppy race.

Plus I'm feeling the slight panic of getting older for some reason. Probably because I am getting older but it never bothered me before.

The other night I had whatever show we were watching paused while Jason did something (let's face it. he was getting licorice. he has a problem.) It was totally silent and I just sat there listening to the tick of our disco Jesus clock. I started getting hyper aware of what each of those ticks meant. I felt like if I took a deep enough breath I could pull it backwards. When I realized I couldn't and what that meant for all of us I felt like jumping out of my skin and going back to live in that tree I used to dream about during chemo. Imagine Jason's surprise to return from a licorice break and finding just my skin lounging in the easy chair! Horrifying! Anway, then I calmed myself down but trying to pretend (much like poser estrogen) that I wasn't upset...that I was actually excited because each tick brought me closer to Friday! I do love Fridays. More than most.

Again, hormones probably.

I have so much that I'm happy about but also so much I want to do and I just feel like every time I make a decision to get going on all these dreams and wants I get stuck again. Next thing I know another year has passed.

I am writing about it in the hopes it unsticks me, I guess.

In other news I'm going to dinner with my best friend's husband for Valentine's Day. ESCANDALO! We are going to Acadia so that I can at least get a glimpse of my adorable, but very busy, husband. Oh and the food. REALLY looking forward to the food. So tonight will cheer me up I bet.

I acutally feel better already. Getting it out is good. Thanks blog. I loves ya.

You Don't Know From Cold!

Walking home last night I thought "I need a hat!" I left mine at a friends and it was freezing. As I was continuing my hat having day dreams I noticed my street is currently a MadMax looking construction zone. The roads were all wet and there were giant drill trucks and stuff (not sure what they are called so drill trucks it is!). Then there was this giant hose that ran at least a full block down the middle of the street. However the sidewalks were open and I have a strange interest in construction. I could watch it all day. So I kept on the path even though it was starting to look sort of dangerous.

Let's just cut to the chase here. The hose broke RIGHT as I passed it. I heard a "sssss" sound then a "clink!!!" and the braket holding it together flew off! I was being sprayed by a fire hose basically. Drenched. I started saying "Good Lord! Good Lord!" then "jeeze louise!!!" then "shit! SHIT!" but I couldn't run because the ground was instantly the most slippery surface of the planet at that moment. So I had to sort of just shuffle out of the line of the spray.

My hair was dripping wet for about two seconds then it was all ice. ALL ICE! You think this is hyperbole? You are incorrect. If anything it's hyPObole. My coat turned into a rock hard armor of feezing coldness. Eyelashes? Icelashes. Boots? ice covered scoots.

I'm not sure I've ever been that cold before. I got home and told my cat all about it. He was shocked and concerned. Once we realized it was for SURE not any kind of sewage we both felt better.

Love,
Crescent

Night Terror

I realize this blog seems to have evolved into Jason's Nocturnal Transgressions but I have one more funny one.

The past two nights (and a couple times in the past year) when I get up for my 3 am pee break and come back into the room he jumps and gasps like I'm some 9 foot murder monster coming to get him. Then when he realizes it's just his normal ol' wife he makes mad sounds like I did it on purpose. Every time I have to say "Jason! Jason! It's just me!" Then he says something like "man" or "jeeze Crescent". Like I was lumbering in with a human skin mask carrying a mallet or something when in reality I'm tiptoeing into the room in my Sterling Sharpe jersey, pigtails and sweatpants. Yipes...when I put it that way I guess it is a little scary.

quick thoughts

I have come up with the perfect way to sum up being in your early 20's as a woman.

Every single girl with brown eyes thinks Brown Eyed Girl is being played for her only. I did. Although for me it probably was because, well...let's face it.

Anyway, I'm working on a way to sum up the 30's but have to fine tune.

So far all I can come up with is "in your 30's you'd rather have someone make you noodles or make you laugh hard instead of play a song that's actually not even really about you."

Like I said. Needs fine tuning. Plus that's not even true. Just the other day I begged Jason to listen to a Wilco song some day when I wasn't around and think about me being awesome while he did so. Sort of takes the romance out of it when I DEMAND he feel things for me but whatever. He takes it like a champ. or CHUMP! AmIright??? kidding kidding. Thank you Chicago.

Also, Jason was sleep walking again this a.m. and started trying to put the comforter on over his head like a sweatshirt. As the covers started slowly pulling away from me I tried to wake him up saying "Jason! What are you doing!" he just stood there with the duvet over his head not moving then finally said "I have heartburn" and walked out of the room and came back two minutes later smelling of red licorice. I'm no Nancy Drew but crunching the numbers I'm lead to believe he didn't take any Tums but just stood in our dining room eating Twizzlers then came back to bed.

Love,
Crescent