The Evening Muse

Is there a point in our lives where we have to toss away all the dreams - the silly and the serious - of our youth?

When real life and real responsibilities overshadow the idealistic dreams we see for ourselves, do we put the dreams high away on some inner filing cabinet or do we shove them down into our mental shredder and never think of it again? I've been trying to remember what great dreams I envisioned for myself as an 18 yr. old young woman, with open personal horizons and expectations for my life ahead. You know what? I don't remember thinking beyond the next few weeks. I didn't plan for my professional future. I didn't have a clue what I "wanted to be be when I grew up". Most of my friends did - mathematicians, teachers, wives, parents, architects, writers - me? Nothing. Or at least, nothing that has stuck with me.

I talked about being a nurse, a doctor, something in the medical field but those were my parents dream for me, not mine. I somehow got caught up in the superficiality of wearing pretty clothes, getting my nails done and hanging out with the popular crowd in college. I dated men that I thought were really creative and sensitive - they just turned out to be gay (see my previous posts, I'm sure I've mentioned it before)...and not just one guy, how about three in a row? I was as uncommitted in my personal relationships as I was in my own personal growth.

I was selfish, insensitive and uncaring of anyone's needs except for my own. But hey, that describes most early twentysomethings. I eventually grew out of that type of behaviour - and the gay men*, thank goodness!! - and here's my life now. I wonder what dreams I dreamed for myself because when I look at my life now, I know something is missing. I like the person I have become, I'm proud of myself for enduring the past few years with grace and humor - but I'm not anymore special than most people. We're all survivors of some personal tragedy. So, what's the plan for my future? What do I want to do? What do I want to be now that I'm all grown up?

Is there an expiration date on dreams? Did I put my dreams so far up on that shelf I can't even see them anymore - and now they're completely out of my reach? Did I, in some incredible moment of stupidity - place them down that mental shredder? Is it too late to figure it all out? Ack!! Too much introspection!!

I need chocolate, a pen and some paper. Maybe it's time to write a new list of dreams.

*okay, I don't date obviously gay men, merely ambiguously gay guys. Baby steps, baby steps.

A Good Dump

Aha!! Did you think I was talking in bathroom terminology? In some ways, I guess what happened to me last night might parallel that type of expelling, but no, I was referring to more of the emotional dump.

Last night was emotionally strange for me. Since my "accident", my hormones have pretty much shut down, closed up shop, for lack of a better phrase, dried up. Doctors have said it is because of all the trauma (yea, that would be the part where they lifted my innards outta my body while they searched for the cut vein) and blood transfusions that I've gone into early menopause. Okay, I know I don't normally talk about "female" stuff but this all ties into my emotional state. If I didn't know better, I'd say I had one of the PMS type breakdowns last night.

Seriously. I'm watching some mind dumbing (or numbing, whichever you prefer) comedy show and I start to cry. And cry. And cry. No reason. There was a laugh track encouraging me to laugh and find humor with the TV show star's antics. But my hormones were having none of it. Twenty minutes of boo hooing into my nightgown.

I'm hoping I'm not going to have a reccurring episode every month. While I'm happy my body is getting back to "normal" (not as many infections) I think the only fair thing is that my body not to return to all "normal" functions. After all I've been through; without complaints, without tears or tantrums, remaining as positive as possible - you think the universe could cut me a break and not return everything? Is that too much to ask? I've discussed this with some of my girlfriends, they agree that this is a fair trade.

So, again, to throw this out into the universe, I'm okay without this monthly function, really. I don't feel cheated as a woman. I can do without the monthly hormonal rages, the pimply breakouts, the unexplained tiredness, the insomnia (like I need any of this crap - oh, another dump reference, I'm good!!) the whole lot of it - I don't want it.

Here's hoping tonight I might fall asleep and dream happily.

As an added bonus: For the love of Dick

A footnote to my previous entry about my niece's graduation:

(They put me in an alcove because I refused to sit in one of the chairs and have people step all over me. It echoed in that alcove. Remember this later on in my story, okay?)

Normally, commencement speakers at graduations are, for the most part, pretty boring. The speakers at my niece's graduation were total yawners. Honestly, why do people behave so formally at these events? I was subjected to 2 long winded speeches of how great this professor was or how this teacher changed the course of her studies. Boo hoo! Give me something different, give me something that catches my attention, give me...Dick.

Oh yea, baby. The guest speaker was Mr. William B. But before he spoke, the Dean, the DEAN of Faculty stood before his 2009 graduating class, their families and began his introductory speech...

"I bet most of you didn't know that Dick was born in Canada" (Really? I didn't know that factoid.) I snickered. My sister whipped her head around and glanced in my general direction. "Dick is great." (Oh MY GOD!! This guy is killing me!!) I snickered louder. "I bet you didn't know that Dick played minor league baseball with Willie Stargil. That's right, Dick played ball with Willie!!" (ACK!! HE DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!! WHERE'S MY PHONE, I HAVE TO TYPE THESE NUGGETS FOR LATER!) I snickered even louder, noticed that no one else was laughing. Was it just me? "I can't go anywhere with Dick without someone coming up to us and telling us how much Dick has meant in their lives." (AHHHH!! IS THIS GUY FOR REAL? HE HAS TO REALIZE WHAT HE'S SAYING!!) Notice that audience has FINALLY caught on. Geez. "Dick is going to be inducted into the Hall of Fame for all his contributions for his great style in ball playing." (NOOOO....STOP!!! I'M DYING!!!) Audience is beginning to cover mouths with hands. That's right, my minions, laugh with me, laugh with me..."Dick has touched many lives." (THAT'S IT!!! DING DING DING!! I'M DONE. STOP NOW!!!) I'm moving back and forth in my wheelchair. I can't stand it anymore. "Blah blah blah, everyone here who's had some special moment with Dick, raise your hands." (OH NO HE DIDN'T!!) I hope to God someone is recording this, it has to go to YouTube. "Okay, folks, enough talk from me about Dick, how about we hear it straight from Dick?" (I AM GOING TO HELL. I AM A BAD PERSON. THIS IS A NICE OLDER MAN...WAIT, WHAT DID HE SAY?) "Good evening, folks. I'm sure you've heard enough about Dick tonight..." (I LOVE DICK).

I'm not lying. It really went that way, we talked about it all night long and in those few moments in the drive home when we were friendly, we joked about Dick. I still have several quotes saved to my cell phone. I will NEVER delete them. Whenever I'm feeling down, believe you me, I'm bringing out Dick. It's all about the love of Dick.

"I'm on the road to no where..."

Remember when you misbehaved as a child and one of your parents would say to you, "I just hope that your children never behave the way that you do!" Does it count when your parents are the ones behaving as children?

My sister, my parents and I (my brother-in-law wisely chose to stay at home because he had "work" to do - read: I'M NOT GOING TO BE TRAPPED IN A CAR FOR 6 HOURS WITH YOUR CRAZY FAMILY!!) were driving 6 hours north to attend my niece's college graduation. We've travelled together before so we knew what to expect...or did we?

First off, let me explain something about my family. We're a bunch of control freaks. I could spin it in many ways but the bottle still points to control freaks. And we were travelling together. In a locked, speeding car. With the folks in the backseat. For 6 hours, sans potty breaks (more on that later).

As with any other road trip, we had to stop for breakfast (why eat at home when you can go through a drive-thru and really live?). That led to the first potty break...and the second...10 minutes from our house...in the same drive-thru restaurant. Nervous bladder? Perhaps but I believe it to be more of a parental torture to make up for all the years of car trip agony we poured on their heads. My sister and I became the road trip bathroom tour guides, "...and on your left is a lovely burger joint where we might stop...on your right, a shopping mall with many bathroom choices. Please be aware that after this exit, there will be no more stops for 45 minutes."

Dad is the ultimate driving control freak with Mom as his co-pilot. "Why do we have to always change lanes? Can't we stay behind the truck? He's going a steady 60mph, that's good enough." That would have been fine except one of us (uh, me) had to say, "Sure, if we want to get there next Tuesday." Which led to, "I won't say anything anymore (oh, if that were true) I'll just let you drive." Oh, Daddy, you poor man. Trapped like a rat with a bunch of clucking hens...his words, not mine. Mom was more direct, "You can change lanes now." To which my sister would reply, "I wasn't planning on it, but thanks, Mom." My poor sister, who in the past, had the roles reversed. She would be the passenger that feigned sleep to escape while I, the driver, was forced to listen to my parents thoughts on my driving, my hand positioning on the steering wheel, my constant fiddling with switches...now it was I who blissfully drifted off and drowned out the voices.

Another potty break. Hey, a record! It's been an hour! Woo hoo!! More merging instructions, comment on the speed of the automobile, "Why are you letting go of the gas? How come I feel the car slowing down and speeding up?" Reply,"Well, that would be because the cars around me are braking for traffic and speeding up when it clears." Ahh, there was no correct answer to be given. My Dad, so frustrated at one point, clapped his hands to silence the bickering. The stunned silence only lasted about 2 minutes before we were all at it again. Don't misunderstand my family. We love each other very much but that love is balanced by that control freak thing I mentioned. We all like to be right. And we all like to be right OUR way. We can argue but we forgive...

Except if it's about politics. Did I mention I was the only Democrat in a car full of Republicans? Oy. That's all I'm going to say on that subject.

It was a loooong trip up and even longer trip back. My folks had too much excitement, too much sugar and not enough sleep. There was no goodwill left on the return trip. We were singing songs one moment and the next, bam! We would start arguing. Even silence wasn't an acceptable answer. Too much togetherness? Probably. We argue loudly but the love is strong. Good thing, too. Because next time? The folks are taking the train.

I heart San Francisco

Where to start, where to start. Last month I turned 46. Celebrated in style, too. Went to San Francisco with Missys R., S., and P. Five glorious days with three of my favorite women (Missy K. will be here next month, so you KNOW that's going to be a fun week!). From the moment we arrived in SF, it was giggles and give-me-a-belly-ache laughter.

As I've said before, the energy between the four of us is amazing. We've been friends for over fifteen years now and as we've matured, I'd like to say our humor has with us but um, nope. We do have the maturity level of a 13 yr. old boy. Dirty, dirty, dirty. I'll just hi-lite a few of my favorite moments:

Missy R. arranged for two days of private tours. Wow! What a treat for us. Our driver, Arnold (you can call him Arn but not Arnie, which of course, we immediately wanted to do) was the perfect choice to drive us around. Being trapped in a car with four women over forty with lots of inside jokes, constant teasing, veiled insults - it's not easy. Arnold joined right in and added a few jokes of his own. He even suggested a place in Yountville where I could finally find my precious - brioche bread - and we added that to our Napa tour. I was kind of a baby on that tour, I admit. The constant in and out of the big GMC was hurting me, I hadn't fully recovered from the plane ride, I was up more than I should have been (I HATE having to stop the fun while I elevate my leg) - well, it was too much for me. So instead of getting to visit a few more wineries, I chose to do a driving tour. The girlies are such good sports that no one pointed out that a Napa tour should involve visiting more than one winery. And that's why I love these girls. They let it be about me - which, of course, is that way it should be since it was my birthday week but still, that was a very nice thing for them to do for me. By the way, did you know when you call those automated direction things on your cell phone and put it on speaker, that if one of your passengers yells "HOLY CRAP!" at the exact moment the automated directional thingy is speaking, it will actually respond with, "I'm sorry, will you please repeat the city name?" We didn't either, but it does because we did.

We had lunch at Tra Vigne. The food was fantastic and we all shared - well, except Missy P., since she doesn't "do meat" anymore. Missy S. ordered this fantastic braised rabbit and I thought Missy P. was going to fall over. "You're going to eat a bunny? Really?" Missy S. was calm and said, "YES. That's what it's bred to do - feed me." Or words to that effect. Missy P. still eats fish and shellfish. What's that called, a pescitarian? I don't understand all the different levels of vegetarianism. It's like a video game. Level one, no red meat. Level two, no chicken. Level three...you get the idea. At least Missy P. is the first one in line to eat desserts. I love that about her - whenever I shout "chocolate" she goes, "Where?!" We bought (okay, Missy R. did) some lovely baked goods at Bouchon Bakery in Yountville. To quote another Arnold, "I'll be back!"

When the four of us are together, the biggest problem is that we act as if food is not available to us in our home towns so we must hunt and gather as much grub as possible. Example, Patrick, our driver from the airport, pointed to an area where on Saturdays they have a gourmet farmers market. We all perked up and someone said, very excitedly, "A farmers market!!" I know, like we don't have fresh fruit at home. What's even more perplexing is that we still insist on buying food and bringing it back to the hotel - so we can snack later. We never eat as much as we buy and end up feeling guilty for throwing it away. This trip, however, we did gather up the leftover food and drink that was still edible and packed it. I brought mine home and said, "Look Mom! Bread from a bakery in Yountville! It's so good!" I found a way to bring home leftovers and turn them into presents!!

We've been friends for so long that discussing our bio breaks (a new phrase courtesy of Arnold) is casually brought up in any conversation. There are no rules anymore, no boundaries. Farting, snoring, drooling - all were discussed many times during the trip. At one point, Missy R. and I silently applauded when one of the other Missys (I'm not telling which one) went into the guest bathroom and farted REALLY loudly. Missy R. and I didn't even flinch - just looked at each other, raised our eyebrows and applauded. Now THAT's sisterly love!

There were a lot of things that happened on this trip but I think I'll keep them where they belong: as treasured memories. Some things need to be kept close to the heart, you know? These three women: Missys P., R., and S., hold a special place in my life. I am truly blessed to call them my friends.

(Oh, Missys P. and S., I have LOTS of pictures of the "so you think you can dance-off" and Missy R. has video. I will be saving those for future gatherings - we can all laugh and remember what a great time we had in SF. And I'm not above a little blackmail...)