A Series of Lucky and Particular Mistakes

My Moms

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 17 Jul 2008 16:43:00 +0000

Google Reader recommended a blog yesterday and as I usually do, I started reading to see what it was like. Turns out, this passionate and eloquent woman is Miss Britt and she is funny and well, made me cry (not that that is hard AT ALL) with her words about “tolerance” of gay people.

Today I found this

This, of course, made me cry too. My moms deserve to be equal citizens of this world. All people deserve to be equal citizens in this world.
Please watch, for me.

Jack

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 15:07:00 +0000

My grandfather died on Saturday. The nurse called my grandmother at about 8 am and by the time they got there he was gone. The nurse sat with him though and held his hand. She told him that it was ok because in the moment of death, it really is.
He had liver, kidney and lung cancer. He was emotionally abusive to my Grandmother. He was a World War Two fighter pilot who flew a B38 and was shot down. He was smuggled into Switzerland and hid for three months. Mimi was told that he was missing in action and had a beautiful oil painting done of him. They were not married at that time, but were shortly after he showed up on her doorstep.
Monday, my family surrounded my grandmother and mother, my uncle and we hung out. We helped Mimi go through his things. We made lunch and dinner, laughed and cried, loved and laughed more. Mimi told us wild stories of early in their marriage and how emotionally abusive he became over time.
The first thing she did after his death was go buy a pair of New Spirit shoes and had ice cream for dinner. She was never allowed before. And, in no way is she a pushover and she would put him in his place except when it came to the money. At least he was so tight that she has a ton of it to blow. She doesn’t seem too sad, though we are all good at not fully showing our emotions. I do know that she mourned who he used to be a long time ago. I do know that she misses that man too, the fighter pilot, the father and good husband. He lost himself somewhere along the way.

It's an honor to bear witness to this life.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 10 Jul 2008 15:13:00 +0000

It’s hot and I’m sweating out all my tears and loss and joy. It’s all mixed up and I am pushing it away. It’s hot and I am hiding.
I don’t want to go on Sunday to Jodi’s service. It’s avoidance, I know. I will go, but I don’t want to. It’s too hard sometimes, death. Even though it’s right where it should be, at the end of our lives, it’s just so final. It’s so abrupt.
And now, my grandfather, a World War 2 fighter pilot is dying. I am sad for my grandmother, but not for him. I am sad because he isn’t the man that she married anymore. I’ve always known him as mean, selfish and self-serving. Children were always a bother and never a blessing to him. My grandmother was a career woman, a dental assistant, a paralegal before she married him. Since then she’s been a good wife and excellent mother. She doesn’t deserve to watch him suffer, though he’s been so mean to her, she doesn’t seem to upset.
Tomorrow is our ten year wedding anniversary and maybe I will get the energy to scan some of the pictures. We are in a good place though, Dan and I. We get along; laugh at ourselves and see eye to eye when it comes to parenting. We are shipping the kids off to my mothers and going out to dinner. It should be lovely except for the sticky-feet mayflies that just hatched.

So much is coming in and nothing is leaving me. I am storing it away. Winter is coming, you know.

This is how I feel today.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Fri, 04 Jul 2008 15:36:00 +0000

Happy 4th of July!

Mia

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 22:40:00 +0000

Mia sprained her ankle last night. It's not broken. She wont put any weight on it.

She was jumping off the couch (like I've told her not to a million times) and it rolled. I saw it. I thought it was broken. She has no hesitation.

(And I love this song. Imogen Heap "The Moment I Said It")

Sadie

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 14:51:00 +0000

I feel like it’s been so long since I’ve written and well, it’s only been about a week. I feel like I am holding it all in for fear of my guts, but we all have guts so why not spill them.

Wednesday my mom called and I could instantly tell something was wrong. She was crying and couldn’t get the words out and I started to cry. I can never hold back when she cries. She told me that Sadie had gotten attacked again by a coyote and my brother found her again. She was bawling and sort of hysterical with grief.
Sadie was her Cairn Terrier and two years ago she was attacked by a coyote. 11 months of rehabilitation later and she was (almost) back to normal. She had scar tissue covering her entire stomach and one of her back legs was sort of stiff, but she was happy and healthy. She was Sadie-girl and my mom spared no expense because Sadie never seemed to give up the fight. Money wasn’t going to get in the way of my mom’s fight to save her either.
So, now, two years later and the same thing happens. My little (fireman) brother found her (again) this time and took her to the vet holding his hand on her the whole time. He said that he drove 85 miles an hour the whole way there and kept talking to her. My mom and partner met him at the vet and she got to say goodbye before they put her to sleep. It was too bad this time. There was too much scar tissue and there was nothing they could do.
My mom said that she held her as her partner dug the grave out by the horse pasture and she put Sadie’s new toys in with her. As she placed an elephant into the hole with her, she squeezed it and it said, “Now I lay me down to sleep…”

It’s still hard to write it. We loved that dog so fiercely to help her get better the first time…

Death and birth are so important in our lives that it takes my breath away. There’s been a lot of death lately, but it’s so important that I keep my head up, my heart open and keep the energy flowing. Even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard, I have to keep loving and living, it’s the only way to grow.

It's good, you know?

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 21:14:00 +0000

I’ve spent a few days breathing. I’ve spent it being calm and reading, working out, talking and being hopeful. I’ve spent a few days laughing, being busy, being tired, and real.
I talk a lot about myself and my inner thoughts, but I think the most important thing I’ve realized recently is that you have to hold onto hope, all the time.

I live within the knowledge that it will work out. That is hope to me.

I also realized that I never want to be the person that only has negative things coming out of my mouth. I never want annoyingly ‘it’ll be ok’ person either because things have to be bad sometimes. But, I don’t want to be the person that people avoid because I am a downer. I don’t want to be the person who can’t be happy for other people’s happiness.

We get what we put out there and if I put out shit and complaints 24/7, that’s what I will get back.

I live within the knowledge that it will be ok, because I am smart, resourceful and have the ability to make solutions happen.

And, I am getting better at it too. This morning I checked the checking balance, as I always do, and found it to be in the red. I had forgotten about a payment that was to be made. Overdraft charges are not totally foreign to me, but it’s been a few years since the last time. I decided that it would be ok and that the solution would come to me. At work, my mom hands me an envelope with savings bonds that my grandparents bought for me when I was just born. I gave them back to her weeks before because I didn’t think I could cash them without my social security number on them. She told me that my grandparents called their bank and I shouldn’t have any trouble. It was $75 dollars of savings bonds and hoped that they would be worth at least $100 to put in the bank.
I took them to the bank and $340 dollars later the troubles are solved and I didn’t incur the overdraft charges.

It’s strange for me to have something like this happen. I didn’t panic or worry. I held myself consciously within it being ok and it was. I think I like this better.

And no, don’t worry, I’ll never be perky or a morning person. I will never blow anyone off by telling them that it will be ok and I will never give you anything I don’t want in return.

There is nothing more than what we make, who we love and how we live.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 19 Jun 2008 17:01:00 +0000

Perspective

There is nothing in this world that cannot be overcome, except death.

Nothing.

If we don’t get what we want, maybe it’s what we are not supposed to have. Maybe we need to learn more, grow more, before then. Maybe we need to work harder for it.

Maybe we have something important to do here, before more and better and bigger.

There is so much trivial bullshit and so little meaningful connection. I am going to work on reversing that. I will flow through the trivial nonsense. I won’t listen to it from others. I won’t bring it into my life. I am willing to work as hard as it takes to get where I want, to do a good job, to raise my kids, to accomplish my goals and to love as fiercely as I possibly can.
Aren't we already working hard enough? Can I really do more?

I cherish each and every day.

We never know how long we have, so why worry.

Today, Jodi’s obituary was published and I can exhale. I skip to the end and see that a “Celebration of Life” will be July 13th and I can inhale again.
The needs of the living are important. We love her. I reread and notice the list and include myself in the “hearts that were touched”. I miss her.

“don't fool yourself
in thinking you're more than you are
with your arms outstretched to me

now its 16 miles to the promised land
and I promise you I’m doing the best I can
now some days, they last longer than others
but this day by the lake went too fast

and if you want me, you better speak up I won't wait
so you better move fast” “With Arms Outstretched” Rilo Kiley

Cranford Rose Garden Timelapse at Brooklyn Botanic Garden from Brooklyn Botanic Garden on Vimeo.
And this video has nothing to do with anything except that it's awesome.

Move Forward.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 16:55:00 +0000

She brushed me off. I don’t remember what I wanted to say.

“Mom…”
She was talking to someone else. She just called to give me the contact number.
“Got it?”
“Yeah”
“Ok, love you, bye”
“Wait, Mom. Mom.”

And now I can’t remember what was so important. It doesn’t really matter anyway.

Softball on Friday was fun. I got on base once and hit a RBI. I was pretty excited to connect with the ball every time up to bat. It was a good night.
Saturday morning, Mia and I woke up sick. We couldn’t keep anything down until that evening. It wasn’t a very fun day, but we made it through and even got some laundry and vacuuming done.

She didn’t want a service. She left that information somewhere. She thought about it. She was prepared.
How is one supposed to collectively pull together and grieve without a service?
Do the wishes of the dead supersede the needs of the living?

I don’t know.

Move forward, go to work, make dinner, do laundry, play ball, read some and don’t forget to write.
Move forward, see hope, trust, love, laugh and don’t forget to believe.

Own

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 20:07:00 +0000

Your life is not your own
it belongs to the people who love you.

Your breath is not your own
it belongs to your mother and the sky.

We belong to each other and the ocean.
Insides torn out for show
nothing left to give

Your life is not your own
you were not given it,
it was given to you.

It's not yours to take
it belongs to the people who love you.

It's there, under the surface, barely

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 12 Jun 2008 20:13:00 +0000

“Yes, well,

I prefer the present tense anyway

Past and future are imaginary”

The place I stuff it is full

and it’s seeping out

into my thoughts

and the flashes in my eyes

and into words,

twirled so lightly on my fingers

“The ache is delicious and heady and tingles and love and lust and need and ache and it's good and bad and screaming and kicking and

most of all, it's real.

like you

and me”

and it wants out.

We are real and I’m not afraid today. (I desperately want to say, anymore, but I get afraid, really afraid sometimes)

We are real and there are things I can’t explain that come from somewhere unknown.

And I can’t scream without reason, it’s just not the same.

I can’t beg for someone that’s not there.

There’s an emptiness that’s whole

and a freedom within binds.

I’m a junkie without a fix

I’m the addict

and I’m pushing it down

pushing it down

Jody

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 21:41:00 +0000

I don’t know how to write this. I don’t know how to tell it or express myself right now.

I am going to start by saying that I don’t know much more than I am writing here. I don’t know why. I don’t even know exactly when.

Yesterday I got a text message from my best friend saying that she had some news. The first thought that went through my mind was that someone was dead, “oh god, not again.”
Turns out that she had some good news about a date and person of interest and I promptly forgot about my “premonition” and chalked it up to paranoia. We talked and I was happy and she had to go (to later get stuck at her parent’s house trapped by closed roads and rising flood waters, but that’s a different story).

Fast forward to last night and I went out to have a beer after working out (productive I know). The bartender leans into me and asks if I know Jody.
“Just moved back from California, Jody?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I’ve known her for about 10 years, why?” I ask and notice her trying to hold it together.
“We just found out that she killed herself, shot herself. We don’t know when exactly but within the last day or two.”

In that moment that felt like hours, my brain wouldn’t comprehend exactly what was being said to me. Nothing made sense and her words didn’t have sound anymore.

I’m still fumbling for words, emotion, and of course understanding.

My thought from the morning came back to me, the conversation I had with her weeks prior came back to me. I remembered how she had explained some imagined trespass on her part from many years ago and wanted to make sure that we both understood what transpired so long ago. We talked for a long time and I assured her that I didn’t hold any bad feelings and would pass her apology onto Dan. I told her that I loved her and that we should go have coffee like we used to now that she was back in town. And we laughed and hugged and I could tell that her divorce was really hard and that she was having trouble keeping it together. I just didn’t know how hard and how fragile she was.

None of us knew how fragile she was because she always seemed so strong.

And there are all these wishes for what could have been….

All I know is that I love her, always have. All I know is that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel even if you can’t see the tunnel or the light or find anyone in the darkness. All I know is that my heart is broken and that it’s so much closer this time.

Too many people… too many.

It's good to be here with you.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 18:02:00 +0000

I’m wonderfully awestruck with the world today and at the same time, heartbroken. Don’t worry, please. It’s just me and the trees they were cutting down on TV last night.
He said, “You don’t cry for the crabs. Why do you cry for the trees?”
I laughed at myself and looked at him. I couldn’t tell him what I was thinking so I said, “I just feel too much.”
But really, I was feeling them, the trees. And it was good logging, if there is any kind of good logging. It was not clear cutting but still, those beautiful trees and what they had seen and the communication they had with the earth and if we are quiet enough….
And knew how to listen properly
what they would tell us.

(And now I feel crazy, the name myself MoonStar and live in a tree for two years crazy, but that’s ok. That’s how I am.)

Friday was Sushi and it was Dan’s first time. I helped him with the chopsticks and we went to town, spent too much and didn’t care. I did learn that one should not stuff themselves with sushi just before playing an hour of softball.

Yesterday was cleaning without children uncleaning behind me. Wow, that was nice. And it was nice to see them when they came home. They were excited for the rhubarb strawberry crisp and I re-made Addie’s birthday dinner for her since she was too sick to eat it on her actual birthday.

It was good to wake up to cinnamon apple rolls with maple glaze. (Good god I love being married to a baker.) and now, at work, I am getting stuff done.

I am lucky, blessed and appreciate everything and everyone in my life right now. And I worked hard to get here. The hard work is always worth it. The big risks and the downfalls are hard but I try to learn. I try to grow. I try not to repeat my mistakes.

“How the heart bends, and summer she sends a sky that refuses to die
With weeds of the sea that wrap round our knees, and a sun too hot to go down

You come around, you come around, you come around, you come around, you come around, you come around,
You come around”

STARS
"What The Snowman Learned About Love"

And this too shall pass...

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 15:05:00 +0000

After I let out those things, words, that I try so desperately to hold inside for fear of “being crazy”, I feel better.

There it is plopped down in words for actual people to read. There it is my ugly and mixed up.

And you know, and I know, that no one runs away screaming. I know I just feel like more of a freak than I am. I know that humans are all basically the same. They need love and understanding. They need shelter and food. The need to breathe.

And the beauty that is being alive is how different we are too, in the little ways and big. Beauty is when you reach through your life and look into mine and hold my hand a little and tell me that it’s going to be ok. I know it is.

This too shall pass…

And I should update after letting out my crazy to tell you that I am ok now. I should, but I fall into that happy rhythm of ebb and flow. I find me again.

I almost feel like I should say that I am sorry for letting out my crazy all over you, but I know I don’t have to. You’re welcome to do it to me too.

I’m excited for you, yes you. You have exciting things happening, up in the air and possible. You did the hard work and though there’s probably more to come, it’s worth it.

Love is worth it, always.

Addie’s new line… “It is what it is.”

And damnit, I love you, yes you.

OOoooo, I forgot to tell you. I get to go to sushi on Friday on a date with my husband and then I get to smash round balls with metal bats and then! I get to drink. All, with no kids. Dude, I am excited.

So you take a picture of something you see
In the future where will I be?
You can climb a ladder up to the sun
Or a write a song nobody has sung
Or do something that's never been done
Do something that's never been done -Coldplay “Talk”

I don't understand anything anymore.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 01 Jun 2008 16:51:00 +0000

He slept angry last night, stealing covers and bed-space. I shook his shoulder gently, asking for more room and he rolled over. There was still too little space but I just lay there feeling my arm go numb as he mumbled about me always having to be a bitch.
This morning, he woke snuggly and cuddly. He touched gently and this time I was angry. Being tired does that to me, you know. And of course he doesn’t remember sleeping angrily. He says he didn’t mean it, calling me a bitch. I can’t help but wonder about the things we say in our sleep. Is it like drinking where you just can’t help but let the truth out?
Drinking always exaggerates my truth, my needs, wants and desires. Drinking always makes it seem like I can get it, its right there. I realized this weekend that it feels so easy when I’m drinking because I’ve let go of the barriers I hold at all other times.
I sat in my Father’s back yard with part of my whole family and felt acutely the walls I keep up. There are so many things I don’t say and don’t want to. There are long sleeves to cover my ‘self’ and the parts I refuse to show. I don’t even want to chance more disappointment than I’ve already caused.
And I see it in my grandparent’s eyes, the dreams they held for me. They’ve told me that I’m capable of more than this life. It’s too much to think about them never getting to see my eventual goal, of yet is still hiding to me.

Do you ever feel you’re only living to prepare for the more that’s coming? Are you deathly afraid that it will never come?

I could see the hunger in his eyes as I held a casual conversation about softball and sports. I could see him try to figure me out. I could see his need. It wasn’t for me specifically, but for connection. I will forever truly believe that we are here to connect with one another, to share. I share with you.

And the hopes that I figure it out are nice, but pointless. I’m never going to figure it out, really. No one does. To figure it out means to live without passion, without learning. Am I really that alone in the constant search for momentary equilibrium? Do we all struggle with the nonsense and bits that don't fit. And I’m angry that I just don't fucking get life sometimes and that’s why softball feels so good. Where else can I smash an object with a metal bat and people cheer?

Why am I so tired all the time?

Ooo Voo Too Moo.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 29 May 2008 19:16:00 +0000

I’m feeling moderately irritated today. I’m tired of writing about “just ok” food. I am really tired of reading about blow-your-mind food in LA or New York. Actually, I am tired of being jealous of them. I am tired of my little town.

I’m tired of telling people what to do. I am tired of not being able to help as much as I want to and of people not helping themselves. I am tired of listening to people. I am tired of the same old story. I am tired of it within myself too. This post annoys me.

Really, only I can help myself. That’s it. I can share and bounce ideas and ask and most importantly listen, but really, only I can help myself. And you, you know that too.

Why does the vegan cooking porn site make me want to eat chickens, alive even? Am I really that petty and small or hateful? Can I not just accept the non-meat product eating folk that I love so dear? Why must I be spiteful with wishes for pork when I read about vegan ice cream? There is nothing wrong with vegan ice cream. Tofutti Cuties are fucking amazing; yet, the “cool” factor of it makes me feel like puking.

I guess I am stabby and cranky for no real reason so the crank is getting sprayed around like a rabid sprinkler. Yea, like that…. I have no focus.

I want to eat fabulous food. I want to laugh. I want to have really good wine and lean back into comfortable chairs. I want attentive but not hovering wait staff. I want properly mixed drinks. I want food that I’ve never tasted before like beet ice cream.

And even though it doesn’t sound like it, I’m pretty happy, funny, and filled with awe at life and the family I have. Mia Moo said, “Ooo voo” (love you) in the phone for the first time today. I cried. It’s just that simple.

Ooo voo everyone Ooo voo.

Mazatlan, Final Shots

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 25 May 2008 15:49:00 +0000

Olas Atlas Beach, .5 block from our bed and breakfast, looking south.

Olas Atlas Beach, looking North

Near where the cliff divers dive

The fog rolled in.

It's at this beach where I felt myself finally relax. I felt myself smile and know that it's ok to be there. It's ok to relax. It's ok to take it one moment at a time.
Really, it is.

And it's here that I remembered how much the Ocean means to me. It's here I remembered exactly how much of my childhood was spent in her waters. It's here that I am happy and I brought that home with me.

We spent a lot of time people watching. We spent a lot of time talking to strangers in a language we're not very familiar with. We spent a lot of time holding hands and laughing.

I was attempting to take pictures of the dog, but the toes really are the star.

And I know that I will be back.

I know it.

It's always the frosting

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sat, 24 May 2008 16:58:00 +0000

Mazatlan Market

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 22 May 2008 18:37:00 +0000

The pastries were fresh and delicious. I got one filled with apple and cheese.

The Cheese booth

Beef

Pork

"What the hell is that?"

Up next, Around Town and the Beach

Mazatlan Street Art

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Thu, 22 May 2008 15:08:00 +0000

Let's start where it all started...

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Tue, 20 May 2008 18:11:00 +0000

So, this (and the next) posts will be a series as I have a ton of pictures.

Lets start with the Bed and Breakfast we stayed at Casa De Leyendas

Looking over the balcony of our room to the courtyard below.

There is the beautiful shower.

One of the 4 public outdoor areas.

From a public balcony looking west.

From that same balcony looking east.

The public computer and tv area was very nice except for the swallows that would just come right in.

Looking down the marble stairs to the front door.

Downstairs living room.

Formal Dining room

Marky, the house dog.

The kitchen that we could use at any time.

Flowers by the cool off pool.

Next set, graffiti

"What's the matter babygirl?" he asks me in the middle of the night.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 18 May 2008 17:26:00 +0000

I feel like a failure even though my mind tells me to knock it off. I have missed appointments, forgotten things; let the house get out of control.
And I know, it’s silly to feel this way but I can’t help it till I process it. I can’t turn feelings off; I have to push them through.

My house is a mess. Addie just turned 7. I FINALLY got my computer network to work, with the help of a good friend and some bribery involved. I made food for 15 people and took it to my mothers. And there is softball and performances at Addie’s school. Mia is two and never walks. She is either sleeping or running. Her favorite thing to do is rip paper.

And the inane part is, life is good. These are just minor bumps and annoyances.

I feel like I am falling apart, tiny bit by tiny bit. I feel like my writing has suffered and I can’t put my mishmash of thoughts into sentences.

Addie was sick yesterday for her birthday party. She didn’t get to eat her “nutmeg meatballs” that she requested and made (along with meatless version for my mom). She did have some vanilla cake with strawberries and whipped cream but I forgot the special 7 candle, so it was pretty ghetto.

I don’t know. I just feel like …… I’ve lost my hold.

And then, just now, Dan sends me a link through e-mail…

And I remember that I have to share both good and bad. It’s not all my fault. And it’s ok when it’s not perfect.

I’m ok when I am not perfect. Wow, I think I’m emotionally 5.

And Dan just told me that I’m his best friend, followed by the kids. And now I cry…..

(I’m ok, really, just letting it out.)

I'm coming back around...

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Wed, 07 May 2008 20:41:00 +0000

I feel separated from me in my usual, I’m hiding over here but really right here or there or somewhere. I’m at this disconnected place while I wait for the spontaneous acclimation back into my life. I will wake up one morning someday in the future and my mind will fucking finally have put the pieces back together. I know life in the past month has been too much all at once. I will just wait it out.
I’m still waiting to get used to the fact that I indeed found my birthmother and that she’s funny and nice. She’s still a stranger though. We are still in that awkward what’s your favorite color place and I don’t like it. I do like her though, which I never expected to.
We watched the 40 Year Old Virgin the other night and I was uncomfortable for the characters in the movie. I did laugh, it was funny, but they were embarrassed and shy and uncomfortable and didn’t quite know how to just be themselves till the end of the movie and I felt it all with them. And, I know that’s silly and they are just imaginary people, but I can’t help it. Real or not, I get involved.
And I am not used to arguing with my mother about parenting and then questioning my gut. Addie wanted to walk the dog around the block alone. We talked about not crossing streets, stranger danger, stopping at alleys and looking before crossing them. We talked about running if she feels afraid for any reason and then I let her walk around the block. My gut says it’s ok. My mom thinks otherwise. I’ve talked with other parents and it’s a gut call. It depends on your kid, your neighborhood, your life. I believe that giving kids independence teaches them common sense. There will always be limits and safety but she will learn how to think on her feet, be comfortable in the world and take care of herself. My job as a mother is to put myself out of business. We all need our parents, even as adults, but I will never have kids who can’t function without me. I can give them that much.
And I still have not uploaded the pictures from Mazatlan, though I will soon. Softball practices, the gym, reconnecting with friends and family have all taken the forefront recently. (Not to mention getting better and sleeping of course.) Soon, I tell you, soon.
I am starting to feel better already, as I write this. Maybe I just needed to say it…

And we are back...

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 04 May 2008 20:56:00 +0000

We are back from Mexico and we had a great time. I feel a little sick and disconnected from life at the moment.
I feel like there is a whole lot I "should" be doing but I cant figure anything out.

I guess getting back into the swing of things is in order.

Pictures soon...

Finally.

noreply@blogger.com (Eating Dust) — Sun, 20 Apr 2008 15:35:00 +0000

We talked on the phone yesterday and mostly we said, “Oh my god.”
And we laughed, a lot. She’s my kind of funny.
And she cares a lot and is intense, like me. She feels a lot.

And now the tears come because I can say finally
Finally!
Answers to questions I’ve always had
And can’t remember to ask in the moment but she tells me anyway.

She told me those things I longed for.

She told me that she made the doctor bring me back into her room to say goodbye to me.
She told me that she counted my fingers and toes. She told me that she promised me, a new born baby, that I would have a better life, that she loved me and that she would see me again.

She kept her promise.

And I thanked her for giving me to the best family a person could imagine. I thanked her for having that wisdom. I told her how I’ve always known of her, birthmother. I told her how I never carried fairy tale illusions or dreams of being whisked away. I just wanted someone who looked like me. I just wanted someone ‘like’ me.

And we cried and laughed and I don’t really remember what else we said, but it was good. I am truly blessed and honored for this life.