Skip to main content

(Some) Things Are Different Now


Well, so a few things have changed this summer. One, I had another birthday, and two, I moved across the country. You know, not that big of a deal.

I would love to tell you all about this in a much deeper and profound kind of way but I think that will have to wait for another day. Instead this will be a kind of show and tell.



I tried to write in my journal the day after my birthday and this is what happened…




For those who can't read indecipherable handwriting, that says "can't write date, sign of aging?" 


When I told Future Husband about this, he laughed and said, “But that happens to you all the time.” Which is true, I have some kind of dyslexia that causes my brain to substitute inappropriate numbers and words into writing and conversation when I’m tired. I think that’s a thing. We will just say that it’s a thing, ok?




Future Husband also laughed when I told him cheerily a day later, “Today I actually LIKE being older!”

I make my Future Husband laugh a lot, but no big deal. I am (sometimes) the funny one.











 A picture of me and Future Husband. He’s the tall good-looking one.










The second week that I was out here I came up with a mini-stand up routine about driving in Boston, which I like to call “Surprise! I learned life skills in Tijuana!”

This IS true. I learned how to be sick in the middle of the night in Tijuana, how to paint houses, how to dig ditches, and how to access my alternate “Fast and the Furious” personality and drive like a speed demon manifesting.

The streets in Boston take a major beating every year from all the snow, rain and ice and things, so they have a lot of character.  By “character” I mean that they have a lot of holes and surprising bumps and they are pretty hard on your shocks and suspension. Another delightful thing is that seemingly everyone feels the need to shout through car windows at other drivers just for driving on the same road. At first all of this yelling made me angry, because “Hey, I grew up in LA, and I am good at merging. Save your road rage for something that really matters!” But now I try to consider that these people might simply enjoy yelling and I try to let the waves of unnecessary frustration roll over me. It would be a very Zen experience if I was actually good at it, but I’m not.

Driving on the streets of Tijuana Boston is a loud and chaotic adrenaline rush, as you dodge pot holes, pedestrians, and hear voices raised in loud cries of indignation and despair. Instead of Federales demanding bribes, you may find that nearly every bridge demands a toll. You want 4 dollars for me to cross this bridge, really Boston, really?!?!?! I think my GPS is in collusion with the transportation authority because it always seems to take me by the most expensive "direct" route.




I’m working part time as a hospice nurse right now. Working as a hospice nurse in Massachusetts is basically the same as working as a hospice nurse in California, except for that I meet a lot of nurses named “Marie” and when things are not going the way they should be you are sure to hear about it. There is no polite “I’m fine” response in New England, which is actually something that I really appreciate. If someone is having a bad day, they will candidly tell you about it, no beating around the bush and no pretending.





Hospice nursing in Massachusetts comes with the same bodily fluids, family drama, and hilarious, soulful/tearful moments that it contained in California. But, during my first week on the job, I almost hit a porcupine that was crossing the road while I was enroute to a skilled nursing facility, and that was a completely new experience. Oh, and when they say that it is going to rain, it might actually RAIN, and you might need an umbrella. 

<- learned that last one the hard way.







Things are different now, because Massachusetts comes in all these amazing shades of green, and in the summertime The Green is a living force that has it’s own sound and smell.  This never ceases to amaze me.




 But most of all, things are different because now I’m doing everyday life with Future Husband, the tall good-looking one, and that has been the best, most crazy “Is this real life?” experience ever.














(I assume you have seen the now famous "David after dentist" viral video, but if you haven't then you should jump on that right now. Herego laugh a little bit) 


And while we are on the subject of memes and viral videos, I would like to tell you all, that with all these changes I sometimes revert back to my crying llama ways… You know the one, the angst filled llama that cries “mememememememe” all the time? 


As I grow older, I have become more and more aware that my default dysfunctional setting is selfishness and feeling sorry for myself, especially when I feel overwhelmed. But I’m working on it. Some things are different now, and other things are still a work in progress. Am I older and wiser? Maybe. 


Comments

  1. I always love hearing your heart and guts. Love you girlie. Miss you, can't wait to see you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm at work... so I have a phone app that reads blogs and other content to me in my headset as I merrily click away on "worky things"... I had to keep myself from smiling, having your words read to me especially the “mememememememe” in an English accent is HILARIOUS! Miss you!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

We Must Weep

A few weeks ago the darkness took over the sky. Now, anytime after 3pm, you can feel the downward pull of gravity telling you to sink into your bones.The same week that the sky became dark in Massachusetts, the temperatures dropped and the dread of winter became a talking point in day-to-day conversation. People here have not recovered from the winter of 2015 when snow piled 9 feet high in the span of 6 weeks. There is a tension in their voice when they talk about shoveling and being stuck indoors.

I love the fall. I love the change of the sky to clear blue when the air becomes dry. I love the colors of the leaves and the quiet rain. But, this fall has not been restful but restless for me. Under the trees laden with wet leaves I have not found peace and quiet, but a silent roar of anger. It is too soon. Not enough. I am not ready.
*****
I can feel the vertigo of my sadness. Do not let anyone tell you that grief is not a physical process. Our bodies will tell us so many things if we l…

Don’t Tell the Other Moms

Mother’s Day 2018, I am in bed in my pajamas, drinking a semi-cooled cup of coffee from a llama mug, playing solitaire, completely alone in my house.

My husband and toddler went to church, without me. And, right after they left (because I am very holy and sanctified) I turned on the new Ali Wong special and laughed so hard that I sneezed 4 times in a row and then cried.

I did have a fleeting thought questioning if I should watch the comedy special or maybe do something- I don’t know- more reflective. But, here’s the thing. I’ve been doing a lot of work with the Enneagram lately, and as a part of this work I signed up to get daily reminders to check my inner thoughts/fears/motivations. So I get daily emails that remind me to let go of the need to prove my “worthiness” to others.

Today I woke up with a scratchy throat and achy body. Is this seasonal allergies or the beginning of a cold? I’m not sure. Also, yesterday we had a lot of people over. Plus, work has been a major crazy train f…

Grandma Penny and "This Love"

Grandma Penny is not my Grandma. But she is grandmother to several of my dear friends and great-grandmother to baby Lester, who calls me Tia, so that makes me feel as though we are related. On a deeper level, Grandma Penny is also a kind of spiritual grandmother. She and her husband led a Bible study that my parents went to when they were young, and so many of my memories of going to church growing up have her in the background with her hands raised and head bowed. We love so many of the same people, and, for so long, I have watched her love the same God.

Last November we were at baby Lester’s first birthday party, and there were many conversations swirling through the air. I had just come from the kitchen with my plate of food and sat down in a likely, out-of-the-way corner of the room. I was ready to eat quietly and watch all the people for a little bit when Grandma Penny suddenly reached across the inches of blue carpet that separated us and put her hand on my knee.
“How is your …