Day After Christmas

It's my last day off until New Year's and I still can't sleep well. Up by 5:00a.m., it's making me nuts. This time, I don't have the excuse that I'm in CA and adjusting to the time change.

Christmas seemed to go off without a hitch. El and Desi would be an hour late, which irked me given Desi's penchant for promptness. But both the prime rib and the pork stayed warm and tasted moist (some of the last pork portions were dry but given that the table portions were good, I was happy). My mom enjoyed the centerpiece that I ordered from Christopher's but complained that it was too expensive (I downgraded the price by half, but everything is expensive to my mom) and El and Desi were the comical relief during the gift exchange with El obsessively asking folks if they liked their gift and insisting that everyone try their gift on while Desi served as the peanut gallery.

I seem to have this desire to burn the house down since I discovered an unattended candle this morning and last night I forgot to turn off the Christmas tree lights but all is safe and sound.

Drue gets back this evening and I'll be happy to see him, though I imagine he'll be tired after the flight. G and I will have a good portion of the day together and I'm hoping that we can catch a movie.

The Yannotti family remains toxic. G expressed last night that he was a loser and when I probed, he explained that Gary (his cousin) told him so. I'm not sure if Gary was trying to share a manipulation ploy or if he was just being cruel but either way, I wasn't pleased. Gary's 18, so he knows better by now. I explained to G that when people try to hurt you, it's only because they're messed up.

And G's dad continues to insist that names don't hurt. Ha, nice one. Apparently, Junior called G names and G's dad intervened only to lecture G. So I asked G how he felt and when he replied hurt, I nodded. G proposed talking to his dad to explain that names hurt but I suggested that his dad will believe what he wants and that it was most important for G to know that I agreed with him. So we're back to the 'protect yourself' drills: protect your head and your heart.

I always did believe that families are supposed to rally together. The NY family seems to enjoy picking each other apart, it sickens me (and the many stories are not worth going into; the darkness in that family is overwhelming). Drue worries about his family's history and I'm not going to say it's nice but...his family is pretty healthy, considering their responses: nothing was swept under the rug, all the siblings seem pretty honest. By comparison, my dad's siblings have suffered immensely because only his sister seems to want to talk about family skeletons (emotional abuse). Denial is not a great place to be.

I'm sure G thinks I'm a freak with my emphasis on the condition of his heart: is he happy, is he hurt. But I'm terrified of G's dad weakening him, whether it's telling G that he can't do anything (how f#cked up is that) to telling him that being afraid is wrong. But as silly as it seems, I figure you can't be too careful.

It's foggy outside and I hope it burns off quickly. I hate when you can't see clearly.

Yule better

I thought about and avoided going to Midnight Mass because I wanted to get a decent amount of sleep. But of course, sleep isn't happening. I'm exhausted but apparently too exhausted to sleep well. I read about Matthew Diffee of the New Yorker. And I think, what a cool way to make a living. I wonder how much cartoonists get paid, when you're selling 26 drawings a year. Can't be all bad.

I do wish I was artistically inclined. I can paint a pretty picture with words, if I have to but I'd be lying if I said any attempts to draw were better than mediocre. I think Drue underestimates his talents. He can design, he can sing, his photography is decent and has promise and he can play piano and guitar. I'd be happy for any of those talents. Actually, I'd be happy for sinus meds right now -- I'm enjoying that pick axe to the brain feeling.

Nyquil (which I don't have) is mostly alcohol. And I heard that in casual remarks, a doctor recommended whiskey for when one is sick. So I wonder what healing properties the whiskey or hard liquor is supposed to have. Maybe the fact that you're conked out the remainder of the day.

This would happen when I'm hosting Christmas. And of course, it wouldn't occur to me to buy meds until the point when the stores are closed. Brilliant! I'm grateful that everyone is travelling here since I would cancel the Christmas visit if I had to drive anywhere. Seriously, I'm that...that non-functional.

A neighbor gift-wrapped her door. The shock I'll have if it's a guy that did it. But that doesn't seem like a guy thing to do. I always thought gift wrap on a door looked tacky but the neighbor's job isn't bad.

It's weird, it almost seemed more Christmasy in CA, if that makes any sense. I keep looking for snow here, even though I know it's not happening.

I do have too much time today

I have way too much time on my hands today. Crazy! Watched local news and today, hate the torture: local teen killed in fire, siblings killed in a car accident and an only son killed in a car accident caused by another driver. So of course, that causes me to worry, but it's all stuff you can't control. What will be, will be.

Almost have the house ready for Christmas (no pressure). Bought new stemware and washed it. Need to iron the tablecloth, but I'll do it tomorrow. Have 2 wines ready to go. I can't drink lately though (sucks). May get a glucometer to check the blood sugar. I like how more information gives me the illusion of control.

Have the big Christmas centerpiece from Maria. Need to visit her (love her). She has such a big heart, always giving you more than what you ask for. Her son is back from Iraq and I was scared to ask: she said he's undergoing the 1st of 2 operations, if I recall correctly. I haven't lived in Kingstowne for 5 years now, almost 6, but they still remember me. Once you find a good florist, like a hairdresser, you stick with 'em.

I like the house, dimly lit, with the Christmas lights...ambiance. I do wish I could have watched some of the Christmas movies with G. Drue's not a Christmas movie guy; but if he hasn't seen It's a Wonderful Life, he doesn't know what he's missing. It doesn't matter that I've seen it before. The film just resonates with the essence of humanity: what makes a person worthwhile. Death, life and love are so prevalent throughout the film, it just fascinates me how timeless the movie is and its honesty amazes me. It's as intense as Citizen Kane albeit without the fancy angles.

G and I didn't even put out milk and cookies for Santa, though with him falling asleep, I wasn't sure that there was much point. Maybe next year. El was right: the amount of entries I have today, I have way too much time. Here's to Christmas.

Oh yeah, because I'm mean

Because I'm mean, I had to make sure what was behind G's female friends calling him a monster. Seems he would try to play with some of the toys that they laid claim to, at the same time. Still working to teach G to be a gent. But at least he's not being unduly prejudiced by the ex (yet).

We reviewed what it takes to be good to someone you really like. I was thrilled: on his own, G cited 'spect,' the need to listen and 'kiss 'em lots!' God knows, he didn't see me receiving affection during my marriage. Thank God, the kid listens to me too. Phew! Drue and others told me so, but it's still nice to see.

Christmas Eve at the Yannotti Household

I pass on seeing my sister for Christmas Eve. The ex is dropping G off 2 hours earlier than expected and I have less time to get things done. And they're watching football, which if I had more downtime, wouldn't be bad, but an hour drive on a tight day to watch folks couch-potato isn't my thing today.

I'm supposed to have gotten G the pet shop whatever toy and it's not at Kohl's. I drive to Safeway, where I last saw it and it's not there either. I have that moment of panic where I envision having to spend double for a different toy because I was foolish enough to procrastinate. Thankfully, the toy is at Walmart.

7:00p.m., we are supposed to visit Dave and Dusty. 6:40p.m., G has an accident and I'll now have to clean up G, a dining room chair and the rug. I call Dave and Dusty to reschedule and throw G in the shower, while he evaluates what went wrong with the pull-up.

The pork loin roast that I threw in the oven earlier is a touch dry. It never occurred to me to cross check the temperature recommendations in the recipe. The book say 170 degrees but the Internet says 160 degrees.

I drive G to Shoppers for new pull-ups, pork loin chops and a dessert, just in case the flan I made doesn't turn out. We just make it. We drive down Linden Woods Drive so G can see the lights. He has snowman glasses from Raul and Sarah. As we pull onto our street, I realize that G's asleep. He wakes up as I try to put him in bed and asks to watch cartoons. He promptly falls asleep in front of the TV. Not exactly the Christmas Eve that I envisioned. But, it's still nice to have G in the house. And Foster's has a cool take on Christmas. Just have to clean the dishes from the roast fiasco and I'm done. Ho ho ho.

Corinthians

http://www.nccbuscc.org/nab/bible/1corinthians/1corinthians13.htm

Because my ex was so popular, I've attended more than my share of weddings. And my eyes used to roll towards the back of my head, because most people picked the reading above to define their love. And it's beautiful, when you really think about what Paul wrote. But I've always wondered, and always will, how many people truly understand the passage.

I won't even pretend to get it. I understand parts of it. I don't know that I can truly say that I'm an adult, since I'll cop to being juvenile most anytime. When I have to play parent with G, then I can say that I work to be mature. But otherwise, I feel frozen between 4 and 14.

When I married my ex, I thought that you didn't have to marry for love, I believed that I was marrying a friend who respected me and I thought that everything would work itself out. Now, I know that I was merely an object for my ex to either abuse or parade around for his friends' admiration. And I do believe that he was never taught what it takes to make a relationship successful.

Hell, I wasn't taught what a good relationship is. But I knew enough that you never, ever, ever argue in front of the kids (as my parents did). If you disagree, you work towards compromise. It seems so clear cut, but I've never had a relationship based on compromise.

With Eton and Eric, there were failed promises. With Tom, I didn't even realize that we were competing with one another, until our relationship changed after I beat him in a fiction contest. And then, it was never the same...ennui. Porter, I thought we had the perfect relationship. But he was holding every disagreeable emotion inside, until he exploded. So after our parents met each other, after he suggested marriage, we walked away. Or he threw tantrums and I told him to stuff it. And now, here's Drue.

I know that I hope for so many things. I want to see our relationship grow and flourish. I love Drue (and his family) and I hope that I can continue to be a part of his life. I hope that he would never ask me to be less than I am. I hope that he would love my son and never speak harshly towards G or me (there's that idealism again). I hope that he would treat us both with dignity and respect. It's been 10.5 beautiful months (1.5 month was rough). I would hope that there's always a way forward and room for compromise.

I always wonder why Drue sought out abusive relationships previously: by his own account, in 2 previous relationships, he was henpecked, to put it kindly. I worry if he'd ever look to overcompensate for that, if he'd seek to be 'the one in charge.' Naive or not, I believe in collaboration. And that's the critical question, can we collaborate together. I'm not seeking to embrace darkness and I think Drue has so many positives. Hopefully, we can enjoy the sunlight together.

I suppose I shall continue to hope for happy endings. In the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea (one of my favorites, ironically), a man creates a woman of his dreams and showers her with adoration. You never see the aftermath, if the 2 of them just bitched at each other until the end of time. But I always want to believe, that they both acknowledged the gift of each other's presence.

http://www.loggia.com/myth/galatea.html

Assuredly, life would be easier if I were less idealistic.

Worm's escape

Funniest thing: a worm apparently dropped out of the sky, onto my windshield this afternoon. It threw me for a loop, trying to make out the wriggling, writhing line on my windshield. I was pulling into the garage and the only thing that makes sense is that it must've fallen out of a bird's mouth. I wasn't eager to touch a worm, but I didn't want to see it come so far without making it to a decent home. So I scooped it up in a McDonald's cup and put it back in the grass. So miracles do happen (at least for the worm) and there can be happy endings. I am so easily amused.

?

I woke this morning and realized I slept late for me: it's going on 9:30a.m. I'm usually up by 8 (not by choice but habit). When I went downstairs to make coffee, I watched a bird cavorting in a mud puddle, its own personal bird bath. But the squirrels seemed to have a Hatfields McCoy issue with the bird and chased it off. Then I watched the squirrels, the selfish buggers, play in parallel, 1 tree away from the other. I wonder if I'm like the sqirrels and while, of course, I'm selfish, I would never chase someone off (though I do like having open spaces to myself). Mentally encourage folks to leave, maybe, but that's it.

Strange dream: I was in PR and my ex in-laws were there. And G was supposed to be with me but he was playing with his cousins and no one seemed to care where he was. And I walked a couple of streets down and water was rising, having flooded one street. And when I began climbing back up the street I'd walked upon, I was walking up a pile of semi-dry, semi-wet sand. And lastly, I encountered a man that was so extremely well-defined, in that scary, steroid kind of way, that I stared fascinated as his chest moved in strange machinations. His chest was also covered in a colorful, Aztec looking tattoo.

I'm guessing it all has to do with my fear re: little G. I'm scared that my efforts won't mean anything, scared that my son will be a sociopath, just like his dad (the nice, everyone likes him sociopath documented in The Sociopath Next Door). 2 girls have called little G a monster at school. 1 of them was Eva, a very sweet, strong-willed girl that came to G's party. The 1st Monster comment came from a girl that G liked, but I hadn't met her. My sister says that I'm overreacting. But I'm scared that my ex will encourage my son towards non-accountability. He's 5, you can argue that it doesn't matter, but all I can think is that this is when a kid's most vulnerable. Everything matters. Right in front of me, my ex joked to little G not to have any girl kids. It wasn't funny. I reprimanded Gino in front of G, because old habits die hard and because, what a horrible thing to say!

It hurts, my ex always knew how to hurt me (and my dad made no secret that he preferred boys to girls). And what a coup for him, if he emotionally kills G. Poor G.He'll probably grow up thinking his mom is a basket case (which is a fair statement, I think) and hate women (hopefully not).

I always wonder if my ex-mother -in-law (now deceased) understood, really understood the hatred that ran in her family. She hated her husband and made no secret of it. She and her ex (I really wonder if our divorce spurred her divorce, because it is rather strange to leave someone after 40+ years, when you're dying) fought in front of the kids. As soon as I really comprehended what kind of family I married into and what kind of role models G would encounter (thank you brother Rocco, because you made it crystal clear), I was working on that divorce. And now all the boys in the family say women are crazy. And wouldn't you know, brother Rocco lived in CA most of his adult life. He and TR (youngest and oldest) are the sanest of the bunch.

My former nephew Rocco, I pray he remembers what I taught him: respect is a two-way street. You can't demand what you don't give. I struggled to like his mom, Carol, but it was hard. She's a bible-thumper that changes her tone to suit her actions. She left and returned to her 2nd husband 11 times. She constantly devalued Rocco, in his prescence(nice, motherly love). She didn't work to protect the kids (4 of them). Her spouse threatened to burn down the house with the youngest child in it and she still didn't leave him. Yeah, that's Christian love. But if she's finally left him, good for her.

I'm not a shining example either, and I did need someone else to show me what love is supposed to be like. But I've always cared about protecting kids. Because I was never really protected (which sucks, but that's life) it galls me whenever I see other people value kids so little. I think I would crumple up and die to see the way childhoods are violated by the ethnic hatred in Africa.

Saw Jim Gaffigan last night and love him. I like his bit with the disapproving, Midwestern voice. Cool, cool guy. Have coffee made and need to get the house tidied. Love the holidays.

Rainy day

Drue gave me the most beautiful card recently and I've been trying to figure out what to do with it. In one sense, I want to frame it but I do like handling it, feeling the note in my hands versus admiring it against a wall.

He summarized everything he likes/loves about me and I love it, needed it and shall treasure it always. Drue is the most expressive of all the men I dated. He doesn't always say the right thing (and I myself, seem pretty adept at sticking my foot in my mouth), but he makes amends and that's what I value most, that he cares what I think and feel.

I think I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I can't have all the answers, as much as I pine for them. I don't know what will happen to Drue and me, but I still want to believe in the happily ever after. I don't know that I could ever identify as much with someone as I have with Drue.

I'll always wonder about G. It's interesting to me, to see the way people grow up. One friend of mine reminds me of my mom (a bit). She worries, expresses anxiety and wants everything to be perfect (as do I). She's easily exasperated by her mother who had a hands-off, laid back policy towards her kids. Funnily enough, I imagine that I'd like to be like her mother, letting little G make his own decisions when he has his own kids, versus my butting in. And it makes me wonder how G will turn out, if everything will have to be his way or if he'll be laid back. I'd like to believe he'll be laid back, but it's too hard to say right now. Should be interesting.

It's rainy here and in the 50s. If it was colder, we'd have snow. I wanted to take little G skiing after Christmas, but who knows now. Vegetation experts have noted that we have the same climate as NC now. And they say there's no global warming.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I wonder if I'm really meant for this world. I idealize most things, gloss things over and am so uncomfortable with the ugly truths of life. Ugly truths that can't be denied:

• Homelessness seems to be a growing problem again, and there don't seem to be enough resources to take care of people -- in CA, abandoned shopping carts accented the streets, silent monuments to their former owners -- here in DC, the homeless have become a little more aggressive, gathering around plaza benches to stake out their homes, loudly soliciting donations and occasionally hurling insults if you don't


• The gap between rich and poor also seems worse and it makes me choke when people say the economy's booming, since I don't see it -- there are still folks struggling to recover from Katrina, but you don't hear about them anymore


• Death is still our great unifier and I admit, I wanted more of a vacation from it -- two aunts and an uncle are now sick enough to be hospitalized -- a longer vacation from Death's reminders would have been nice.

On a personal level, the struggle to be happy continues. For the most part, I think I am. My parents drive me crazy (my mom still equates control with love; if I loved her -- so she has said-- I would succumb to her every wish). But I am grateful to have them. The boyfriend, still good. His family rocks.

I do wonder if I'm unrealistic. I have this ideal that a healthy relationship entails seeing a person's flaws, but not dwelling on them. You accept what you can and let the other person just be. You treat each other like adults, allow each other your dignity and as disagreements arise, you negotiate around them or wait until you're calm enough to do so. And you delight in each other's company. And as long as the answer is that you're better off with him or her, you stay.

Drue's my favorite guy thus far, since I have the most in common with him. I worry when he's plagued by self-doubt because, what if that unhappiness rolls my way. Fear, that familiar emotion. I hate it and yet, it's gotten me this far. Finding that balance, between happiness and precaution. Is there really such a thing as cautious happiness?

I dream of the day when I can laugh in the wind, all worries fluttering away like red balloons, bopping, bumping, floating further, further away.

Note: G's birthday was Tuesday. My baby, it's true what they say, you grow too fast.

The wedding, the family, the whole shebang

One of the craziest weddings that I ever attended was a wedding for one of my ex's friends. Both the bride and groom were Air Force Academy grads, the bride wore chain mail, the bridal procession walked down the aisle to the theme of Star Trek and when it was time to cut the cake, the bride and groom engaged in a full-on cake fight (it was also one of the better weddings that I've attended). This CA wedding was hardly like that. But it was one of the best weddings that I've ever attended.

The bride spoke of love and service, which was a huge surprise. Everyone talks about love but Dani was the first person I've ever seen to mention service, whether it's serving your friends, serving the community or all of the above. She also spoke of accepting her new husband's darkness which again was a surprise. How many of us can say that we truly love and accept our partner's dark side? Which goes to show that Jaymee and Danielle have a mature love, accepting each other's baggage. Murphy's Law, Jaymee's voice is lower so I couldn't hear his vows. But Jaymee and Danielle are a good example of people that are aware, which is inspiring.

I always want to know 'the secret' whether it's for life or the pursuit of happiness. And the advice varies. I think I've settled upon the informal, though not always advised, live for no regrets philosophy. I've done some stupid things, but overall, I don't believe that I have too many regrets. Most relationships I've had, have been enriching in one way or another. Even my marriage (a good example of what not to do: don't rush, look for flags and look closely at the person versus who he surrounds himself with) yielded little G, so I've come away for the better.

Drue, is the 1st guy where I don't have it all figured out (beforehand). I want to believe in happily ever after and I do for the most part. On days, when I don't want to be presumptious, I know that we've shared enough adventures for me to be thankful for knowing him and I've met his family now. It's funny to see the differences between his family and the ex's family. Ex's family: very blue collar, no exposure to the arts. Drue's family: occupations vary from blue collar to white collar but everyone has some form of artistic interest and expression. Both large families (Drue's family is smaller by 1 kid) but the tempo seems the same: keep up if you can.

I like Drue's mother, I like his whole family whereas with the ex's family, sometimes it was a struggle. Drue's mom is pretty opinionated and honest which is refreshing. His brothers are funny and charming and while I wasn't witness to the terrors that they visited upon their youngest brother, for the most part, they seem more laid back than I would've expected. I didn't get a chance to speak to Drue's oldest sister but she seemed nice enough (let's face it; I'm more of a social slug now after the whirlwind years with the ex) and Drue's younger sister is vivacious, beautiful...a maven and a connector. It was nice to met the people that helped shape Drue and his experiences.

This CA trip was one of the best that I've had too. My ulcer merely threatened rather than a full-on episode (probably because I wasn't visiting my family) and Drue showed me the Farmer's Market, Alivera Street (sic?) and the Grove, none of which I'd seen before. We ended the night in Santa Monica which was a decent end to a good day. The Promenade in Santa Monica probably was my favorite portion of the tour, thanks to the blue palm tree lights and the live performers: men dancing the Hannukah celebratory dance and two guitarists covering Eddie Van Halen's Spanish guitar arrangements. My feet felt like bloody nubs but it was a minor irritant considering the day in its entirety. I feel like I could follow Drue anywhere. It was a beautiful trip.

This morning, I packed and I was ready to go. But I noticed between last night and this morning, how Drue's smile is luminescent. And I can get along without him, but...I'm much happier when I hear his voice. I can still fee his touch (the cynic has to give up her title; she's getting corny) and I'll be looking forward to his return.

Maybe (an atonement)

Maybe I was unfair. Drue hated my blog. But it is my blog, my little soapbox. I hardly promised to be fair :) (kidding, kidding). If I hated Drue, I wouldn't be with him. I chafe at his sugestions but I'm not opposed to pleasing him. But of the many ways that I love and adore him:

• I think he's incredibly talented and have decided that he's a Renaissance man since he can play piano/keyboards quite well, write decent poetry, and sing (when the rare occasion moves him) and I like his photography


• He's quite soulful and he listens in ways I don't always expect


• He took me on the Staten Island ferry (one of my fonder memories from when I was little) even though it was inconvenient and even though I downplayed its importance


• When we went to NY, he took me to Ground Zero despite the fact that he's been 3 or 4 times (meantime, I begged off showing him the Holocaust museum 1 month earlier, for the same reason)


• I love his thirst for adventure


• I respect his refusal to be complacent


• Since I am oblivious when the TV's on and am not particular about making myself comfortable, I marvel that he finds ways to make me even more comfortable, the way he rolled a sweatshirt up against the crook of his arm to improvise a perfect pillow


• His impromptu customized CDs make me feel special and cherished


• His smarts are formidable and talking with Drue is like riding in a Porsche -- 1st guy that I've clicked on all cylinders with, which scares me no end


• Kasalta, PR will always be one of my favorite moments -- the two of us and the open road, with coffee and these crazy marzipan candies that Drue selected for us (something I never would have thought of)


• His blue eyes are mesmerizing and I love his sardonic smile.

I've been in the driver's seat of virtually all my relationships (excluding my marriage) and I do struggle to make sense of my time with Drue. I love him and I don't anticipate wanting to be with anyone else. It can't be cake and roses all the time, but I do know that when he's willing, I have the best times with Drue.

Anniversary Note

I should add that Drue and I had a beautiful anniversary celebration. We went to Komi and I actually remembered what I ate -- shocking! The meal started with pickled olives (worst I ever had) but improved from there. The amuse bouchee included tuna tartare with phyllo squares, quite delectable. The pasta dish was tagliatelle with boar, apple and chopped mint -- amazing. The meat dish was marinated goat. The goat I had in DR was fabulous and this goat was right up there, yummy, not too salty. Dessert was the kicker: Greek donuts (light fried dough with a touch of Sambuka) and to die for chocolate and mascarpone pudding. I would love to recreate the pudding if possible. Drue has raised my eating standards. He is one of a kind.

Control and Happiness

I would be a lot happier if I knew that I could control more things: not overly so, but it'd be nice to know that there could be more happy endings; it'd be nice to know that there didn't have to be too much pain. Of course, maybe life would be a lot more boring, but sometimes, you just wish for more happy endings.

This is the week that I meet Drue's family (for his nephew's wedding). I should be excited, but it all seems anti-climactic. Drue has expressed concerns about work enough (DC doesn't seem like a design capital) that I wouldn't be surprised if he left for greener pastures.

In a lot of ways, Drue seems like he was made to order for me. He's smart, he's funny...he's passionate about politics, he loves the arts, he loves good food. Sensually, he rivals my desires, wants and needs. But he's not much of a kid at heart (hardly at all) and he makes clear enough the ten million ways he'd like to remake me.

It's God's joke or Eric's revenge: Eric was physically perfect with brown curly hair, brown eyes, killer teeth and a killer smile (and the beloved size 32 waist). I fretted that our relationship was too physical, but the reality is that he's the only man that told me that he wanted to have little Michelles and Erics running around and he's one of two men that accepted me the way I am. As time goes on, I think I really fucked up, not looking him up after college.

Eton too: light curly brown hair, hazel eyes (my favorite) and he swore that I was the one for him. I'll always wonder, what it would be like to run into him again, him and his little girl and me and little G. Instead, Drue fits the bill but I'm tired of hearing how I don't satisfy his designer needs or whatever the hell you want to call it.

It's like I've been an interloper in his life and he's merely looking to resume his previous life with his ex, his little fashionista. Three weeks ago, he called me by her name, which didn't bug me at the time. Last night, he gazed wistfully at some frozen dinner garbage and mentioned that his ex ate that stuff. Perhaps they'll reunite when he spends the night at her place and they can spend the rest of their lives together, remaking the other.

I think I've hit the 'Fuck it," portion of my life. I didn't have enough faith to wait for someone who 'loved' me to get married. My parents are from another time and place where they believe it's better to be married before you're 30. Why I gave in to that pressure, I'll never know. It was a bad choice. But I have G now and I'm grateful. Of course, for all the guys that turn their nose up at my having a kid, you'd think having a kid is akin to having the plague. Hard to believe in the coming weeks to 2007.

I think it matters less to have someone smart and politically passionate than someone who accepts me. So maybe I was too harsh towards Eric and Eton. Drue's still a good guy, but I don't think it could be any clearer that he's not made for the DC area. He'll always be CA guy to me. Whatever happens should be interesting.

I wish

I wish so many things. It's pretty outside: near full moon and there's a dusting of snow. And I wish so many things. I wish that I was braver. I wish that I didn't worry so much. And I wish that I was less of a coward. I rolled my car, years ago and walked away from it. And I wasn't scared then. Exhilarated, emotional, shocked. But not scared.

I've jumped out of a plane. And I was scared then. But the adrenaline was amazing. Took me half a day to calm down but it was the best emotional high I've ever had (besides G being born). And scuba diving: my biggest worry was that I wouldn't get to dive, it took my sinuses forever to clear. And I wasn't scared then.

Each year, I'm supposed to be a little wiser (you would think), but it just feels like there are new worries. The death thing has me really freaked out. George Yee went from reasonably healthy to terminally ill in 8 days. 8 days. Grace's mom was young, beautiful and had good health habits. Both she and George actually. And they were the first to go. It gets so that you almost don't want the phone to ring, if the phone will herald more bad news about someone else.

My parents are older. My mom is in her 70s. I thought El and I would be the ones dealing with death first (not that I wish it; it's just what I imagined). Instead, cancer has taken the young ones and I'm terrified. I want there to be guarantees. I want to believe that there are right answers. I know there aren't but I did think that you could reasonably keep death at bay. I don't know why the hell I thought that, but I just really wanted to believe it.

I honestly have difficulty imagining myself living past 50. I'd like to. I'd like to see G form his own family, see him prosper. But my family history's not too hot in the cancer arena. Breast cancer, big check. Ovarian, check. And that lovely ulcer -- throat cancer, check check. Funny, considering I'm not a regular cigarette smoker.

And when it comes to life, how do you measure whether you've spent your time wisely? I can't imagine something too different from It's a Wonderful Life, as cheesy as that is. What a great movie though. I'm just a humongous ball of cowardice, overall. I hate when the elements are unknown. I love the thought of scuba diving, because the chances are that if you stay calm, you see a whole new world and it gives you the illusion of control.

I do wish that I could be more of a free spirit. But it's not really who I am. I like the illusion of control. I haven't accepted death as a process of life (even though I know it is). And I'm terrified, stone cold terrified. And I wish I wasn't.

I love riding on motorcycles (as the passenger) but I'm scared to death that I'd wreck on my own. Yet, as the passenger, I don't really care. I'd care if I wrecked, but it's the driver's worry, not mine. And that's the story of my life, fighting the urge to worry.

Yoga, I'll have to try yoga. But I've said that for a year and I haven't. Maybe because I'm afraid that I'll like it!

?

G wants to go to the pool today. I want to brave the malls for Christmas shopping. Fun, fun. Is there really time to do both? Of course, December is the month for bills: two car repairs needed totalling close to $1K. Love it, love it. At least I have the Christmas tree up.

Ugh-ddendum

I'm 36 years old. Couldn't I just enjoy life a little longer witout all the mortality reminders? It's not like I want to live forever. But the folks that semeed like they would have all the physical advantages (young age -- early 60s--, Asian and good health) are being struck down (folks thatI wanted to emulate as far as life success and happiness) and the randomness of it makes me crazy. I want there to be logic. I want to be able to understand it. Yeah, I like structure, just not too much of it. And randomness makes me crazy.

I'm scared

I'm pretty damn scared. George Yee passed away from liver cancer on Friday morning. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Last time I saw him, he looked tired, but not bad. It didn't look like I'd be attending his wake, but I will be.

Cancer scares me to death. Grace's mom dies from stomach cancer and it's barely a year after her death and death is still touching the Cular-Yee family. It unjust, that death should come all at once. Both George and Joji were young for this day and age: early 60s. I thought both of them were strong and that they would live long. My mom is not in as good as shape as they were, but she's still alive. And it just scares me.

I'm not afraid of death, but the dying. The loss of vitality. I saw that with Mrs. Cular and it was the cruelest thing that I ever had to witness. When you don't even recognize someone that you grew up with -- nothing prepares you for it. Even though it was still Mrs. Cular, I was afraid.

Death changes everything. It brutally reminds us that our bodies are just husks. And wakes, I wish more people chose closed coffins. If you're lucky, the mortician did a decent job with makeup, but I've seen bad make-up jobs (maybe the mortician had no choice, trying to cover the blue) but still...your eyes play tricks on you when you blink and you wonder if you saw the chest rise. And you know you're wrong, but....The thought remains.

I didn't even speak with George when I saw him last, other than a quick hello. Because you think you have all the time in the world. And now I'll say goodbye at his wake. And I don't even kow what to tell Grace. Death has visited again and it's not like I'm going to tell her that things get better. I don't know that she or Roger will look forward to the holidays again. Because, you always remember. Even as you celebrate the holiday, you remember.