living, all of it, seems it’s an affront to my mother’s death. someone lives. someone survives. it begs the question why. why did they live? why did she die? why?
it seems like each breath. each moment of happiness. each and every single thing is a moment that seems such a contrast to my mother’s death. she is gone. but others continue on. it kills me.
I can feel their stares, fellow passengers glaring at me as I blow my nose for what feels like the 100th time. Thinking, ‘oh great, she’s sick and I am trapped on this airplane with her. Spreading her germs. Ruining my upcoming week with her illness. I can feel it now, is it possible I am already getting sick from her?’
Yes, I am that girl. I am the very person who I believe a week prior got me sick flying to/from Vermont. Though I never saw him or her, I am sure that person was there, spreading their germs to the other poor saps who had the misfortune of traveling on the same plane or in the same airport. To people like me. Because invariably I end up sick when I fly. It is too strong a correlation to not be causal.
So to my fellow travelers who have the good [misfortune] of traveling with me to Reno, I am sorry. I really am because whatever I have is a beast. Good luck.
so our wedding photos were published in a magazine. it’s not a major one, but any one is pretty exciting.
we were thrilled when our photographer mentioned she was submitting it. when she told us we got picked. when i was interviewed about the wedding. it was all soooo exciting. we could not wait for the publication.
until it came.
and b apparently spoke his “love talk” to melissa. not me. who is this mysterious melissa? who knows. but it stopped me in my tracks as i read the article. i couldn’t go any further. so after announcing our publication début, i refused to share the info with anyone. i couldn’t read on, so who knew what else was butchered.
i was mortified.
kind of funny for a person who gave up any/all “attachment” to the details of the wedding as the things i wanted fell apart. i knew that the “things” were not what the wedding was about, it was the wedding. and having my family there [originally shooting to have my grandfather and mother there, we were 1 for 2 (or a 50% success rate)]. still it was lovely, wonderful, and everything we wanted from it.
our celebration [or brian's with melissa] is documented here on page 75: http://issuu.com/inframebride/docs/2011-12fall_issue
[random aside... i just wanted to "fast-forward" through the magazine to see where we were and typed in "75"... who knew that was our actual page?]
[of note: the editor did call me last sunday to apologize for the error and said the mistake must have come from the fact that there was a "brian and melissa", which meant the mistake wasn't on their radar.]
a lot.
it’s not really the meal that i love, though i enjoy it, it’s the experience. actually, it is the experience of eating it out at a restaurant.
see, i grew up in michigan where there are coney islands on every corner [maybe more than one] and going there for breakfast is just as natural as putting butter on your toast. it’s always the same. the food is quick, consistent, and delicious [though, it takes a bit of effort to screw up breakfast]. it is the perfect way to spend the morning getting adjusted to the world again and to mentally prepare to face the day. weekend mornings to me mean rolling out of bed, heading to the coney grabbing a quick [slow] bite of breakfast, sipping on coffee, catching up with a friend or family and planning the day ahead.
it’s funny because i never used to love breakfast, it was a meal like any other, often over-looked or filled with a pop-tart. however, somewhere in the past five to ten years i started to love it, to crave it. i think i started to cultivate my appreciation when i worked at a small diner [no, not a coney] in high school. it was only open for breakfast and lunch and mostly served breakfast foods. my best friend worked there and she would always get over medium eggs to eat. i despised them. i couldn’t stand runny yolks. the only eggs that existed in my world were scrambled. one day my best friend got me to try the over medium ["dippy"] eggs by using the toast to soak up the yolk and the rest was history. i saw how delicious “dippy” eggs could be, though only if the yolk is consumed on toast [not otherwise] and my love for breakfast was born.
unfortunately, virginia does not have coney islands. in fact, since moving from michigan, i have come to the conclusion that they are a uniquely michigan thing. and while i love breakfast, i love it most at coney islands, so trying to find substitute venues is challenging. i’ve done the staples: ihop, dennys, perkins, waffle house, aunt sarahs, and bob evans. while they each do a good breakfast, it’s just not the same. so while i wait for my next michigan trip to get a coney island breakfast, i am making do and enjoying each place for its highlights [ihop - boysenberry syrup, perkins - homefries, waffle house - cheesy grits, aunt sarahs - boysenberry syrup and hashbrown casserole, bob evans - biscuits and gravy].
though, i have to say one place in particular just lost my patronage, even as i wrote this post [and took the above photo]. bob evans. i stopped in there yesterday after my trip back from vermont because i was craving a good breakfast experience after waking at 4am for travel. when i reviewed their menu i noticed that they raised their prices [conveniently hubs and i were in one last weekend on our trip to mi. so i noted the difference]. while i did find that slightly off-putting it was obviously not enough to make me changes venues.
at the end of the meal, i went to pay the cashier. i normally do not check the bill before i swipe my card at breakfast because it is almost always the same or in a same price range, so i will say not doing that is my fault. however, when the cashier handed me a slip that said $9.19, i was a bit shocked. i only ate 2 eggs, bacon, and toast. no hashbrowns. not coffee. no juice. [i had water]. nothing else than pictured above. when i ordered, i was pretty sure it said the breakfast was about $6.50. so, getting to a grand total of $9.19 even seemed a stretch for me in virginia where they tax you on everything.
i questioned the cashier and he said i had the “meat breakfast”, whatever that means, and that my subtotal was close to $9 before tax. i say that while i recognize it is only a few dollars difference, i only had 2 eggs, bacon and toast, so i can’t even begin to see how that costs $9. he shrugs. i go back to the counter grab my things look for my waitress or the manager. they were nowhere to be found, but since the menu is still next to my seat, i look at the breakfast i ordered and showed it to the cashier and he continues to shrug. at this point i’m annoyed, not that i cannot spare the extra few bucks they charged me, but that they did it and now there is this chum of a cashier taking no action. i’m so annoyed and needing to leave at this point, that i just go.
i could have stayed, waited for the waitress or the manager, but i didn’t have time nor the desire to be confrontational. so i left, drove, and became even more irritated that the whole situation even happened. and so i am done with bob evans, no matter how good their biscuits and gravy are.
[side note: i find the prices of bob evans, ihop, perkins, etc too high in general, even before the bob evans price hike because by comparison the same breakfast that was $6.50 at a coney island the breakfast is $3.50... so i know that i am over-charged every time i walk into one of those establishments... hence another reason i love coneys more.]
the only bad part of my vermont experience was leaving. at the airport i swiped one of the cards i converted to my new married last name [my last name-his last name] and it showed up that there were no reservations for me to travel home. i panicked [slightly]. i am always afraid that i will remember the wrong time or the wrong place or the wrong date. i thought it was one of those times. i searched for my itinerary. i could not find it anywhere. oh yeah, it is still in the trunk of my car because i spilled water all over it and then forgot to pack it. i searched my phone, remembering i received flight notifications on the way out prior to departure, maybe there would be a clue in my email.
then i remembered. it’s the card you swiped, dumbass.
so, i got out my other and proceeded to check in without any hassle. it really was a shame. i had already began to plan my weekend in vermont. [the weekend i really wanted to do and to have with my husband but he couldn't travel with me this time]. i was planning all sorts of adventures i would have until i flew out on sunday, because of course if i wasn’t making this flight the next logical time to fly out was sunday.
my trip was short and i did not get to see much of burlington, but i enjoyed what i saw and definitely look forward to returning. it reminded me a lot of ann arbor, with its old buildings, old school downtown, lots of students, walkers, bikers, etc. it was a vibrant scene with a group of eclectic friendly people. though, i think i committed a crime [by local standards] for not going to the phish concert to benefit the flood victims [nor did i know it was going on the night i arrived]. then later got “accused” of going because my travel exhaustion.
at the end of my dinner last night [i was alone, but chatted with a man at the bar the last 15 minutes i was there... no, not in any kind of "bad" way], i said what is probably close to the most un-vermont thing to say [in hind-sight anyway]. in response to a question about my profession, i replied, “i buy major weapons systems.” in a place as green and peace-loving as vermont [or the vermont in my head], it seemed almost like heresy to say such a thing.
regardless, vermont sent me off with a beautiful sunset.
we cleaned out my mother’s house this weekend. the final big push. i had been there before organizing, packing, purging, saving, preparing. nothing really prepares you though. how do you prepare to empty a house? a life. my childhood. her adulthood. how do you prepare to reduce it all to: 1) keep, 2) donate, 3) trash? how could she be gone?
i started in the basement, sorting through the last remaining areas requiring review. there were so many things. new things. things to be done. things to be used. things that were her life. paint to be applied in the kitchen. light fixtures to be changed outside. towel racks and curtain fixtures to be hung. rooms to be remodeled. all left unused, not done.
then there were the other unused items. tools. kitchen utensils. small appliances/gadgets. other supplies. more than i ever noticed. more than i imagined. in some way it was as if she was buying them for me. leaving them behind, unused for us to start our life together. the ultimate wedding gift?
i would rather have her just a little longer.
so we packed. we donated. we trashed. a [big] dumpster full. until we were done. until the house was empty. and we closed the door.
**
my room was finally cleaned and cleared out like she always asked me to do when i came home.
**
now we are left with a decision about whether to make no changes and sell the house as distressed or to do some remodeling before selling.
decisions for which i am unprepared. i am still wondering how could i have left her there alone? to live with so little. to live with so much. emptiness. loneliness. a life with more than she knew and less than she needed.
