Puzzle pieces that don't quite fit

About a week and a half ago, I, along with several other members of my Father's side of the family, got an e-mail from my aunt Nellie(dad's sis) concerning my cousin, Christy.  It seems that Christy had been in the hospital nearly a month at that point, and things weren't looking good.  The ties on this side of my family have steadily deteriorated since the death of my mother and grandparents, and my Father's choosing to pretend we all don't exist hasn't exactly helped things, unfortunately.  My aunt Nellie was particularly hurt by my Father's rejection, and she withdrew into her life several states away.  Who can blame her, really?

A month prior, Christy had passed out during physical therapy after she had knee surgery.  Once in the hospital, her heart stopped for quite some time, her organs shut down, and her circulation slowed to the point where it was almost not happening at all.
They tried everything- they really did.  My aunt, along with Christy's husband, had to make the agonizing decision to have her legs amputated just below the knees as the lack of circulation had rendered them more of a danger than anything else. For a while, it seemed that she would come through- she was awake, and she seemed to recognize those around her, despite the likelihood of brain damage from the trauma she had gone through.  She seemed to understand what had happened to her legs, but unfortunately in her state she focused her frustration and anger on her Mom, and that would be the last interaction they would have as Mother and daughter.

Christy died this week.  It turns out that the cause of the original trauma was a pulmonary embolism- a blood clot gone awry, and it was yet another blood clot that ultimately killed her this past Tuesday.  She was 38 and left behind a husband and young son.  She was sweet as can be (didn't have a mean bone in her body), and had just landed her dream job after finishing nursing school- working at a children's hospital in the ER. 

Christy and I weren't exactly close- we hadn't seen each other in years, really.  But I always felt like we would be able to all pick up where we left off, if the often-discussed "cousin's reunion" actually materialized. 

I'm sorry that this blog seems to be all gloom-and-doom.  My life really isn't- it's quite wonderful, actually.  I just feel like my already fragmented family just lost another piece of the puzzle.  I've had lofty dreams for some time now that we'll all come together (minus my Father, who doesn't deserve such a great bunch of misfits) and do things like we used to do: picnics, card games, barbeques, gossiping over coffee and cookies...
But I know that won't likely happen.

What I do know is that, while I believe in "creating your own family" from your friends and loved ones of your own choosing, there is something to be said for embracing those that you are bound to simply due to the random luck of birth.  We share a history, we share DNA, we share memories (good and bad).  We've been to birthdays, weddings, graduations and funerals.  We sat at the mismatched table for Thanksgiving and giggled together when Grandma & Grandpa started loudly arguing about something ridiculous when we all knew they both were wrong...again.

Not sure where I'm going with this.  I know I can't hit the "rewind" button as those things don't really even exist anymore, but I sometimes wish I could hit "pause" and regroup.

Could've, would've, should've.  Could've, would've, should've...

Dear April: please be better than March. I thank you in advance.

I teach adults how to cook (or how to cook better, in some cases), simple as that.  I usually have anywhere from 13-22 students in a class, and, with a few exceptions, we spend 6-7 hours a day together, 5 days a week.
Needless to say, we get to know one another pretty well.
My class this semester started with 15 students- all bright (some brighter than others), all hard workers, all pretty tight with one another as a group.  I dare say that they are one of the best classes I've had, and most days they are fun to teach, fun to challenge, and just fun to be around.

Well...in the last month, two of those fifteen students have died very suddenly, and very tragically considering they were both in their early 20's.

When the first student died, I got the news from one of his classmates via voice mail- I didn't believe what I had heard at first, so I had to call them back to confirm.  The student that died was just such a "good" and "normal" guy that the reality of his death just didn't register with me.  It was a snowmobile accident (those things happen in this part of the world)- he had been out to a bar with some friends, and he and his friends were riding across a lake to his house to hang out.  He had given his helmet to his female passenger, they hit a tree- she lived, he died.
The grief among my students that day and at the funeral was crushing.  I had a hard time holding back tears myself, and employed the trick of "think of something so ridiculous that you can't possibly cry" each time I felt the urge.  I thought of this.  Yes, I know- ridiculous.  But it worked.
The whole situation was surreal- I'd never had anything like this happen, and I couldn't even recall hearing of ANY students dying while attending my school.

Little did I know, it would happen again this week.

He was a troubled student that I really liked a lot.  He was obviously involved with drugs (my guess is meth, primarily), and we had numerous discussions about this fact.  Truth be told, he was one tiny hair away from getting suspended, but because I liked him and saw potential, I let it go on longer than maybe I normally would have.
When the Dean of my department called a few of us down to her office Thursday and told us what had happened, that he had died, you could have pushed me over with a feather.  The shock was there, the disbelief that this couldn't be happening AGAIN to the same class was there, and the soul-crushing, suffocating sadness was there all over again.  Again.

Considering the amount of tragedy this class has endured (in addition to their two classmates, they have also  had 1 brother, two best friends, one parent and three grandparents die this semester as well), they handled it pretty well.  Some were angry at themselves as well as the deceased, assuming that drugs were involved and why didn't they do more about it.  Most were just...shocked.  Shocked that we were sitting yet again in a classroom, mourning a fellow student and crying instead of tackling the usual business of cooking. 

I found out yesterday that it was suicide.  So sad, so pointless.

So, on Monday, I will yet again put on a tasteful but grim outfit, drive out to the suburbs to a church I will likely never set foot in again, and feel sad about someone so young dying so senselessly.

And I'll worry.  I'll now worry that this could happen again, even though the odds are against it. 
Grief and worry, grief and worry. 

That's all.
That's just what has been weighing on my mind lately.

Does Prozac mix with white or red?

So, yeah. 
If it isn't already glaringly obvious from my main blog, this winter has taken a huge toll on me, psychologically.  I was already knee-deep into a 2+ year mild depression stemming from all sorts of shit I don't want to go into here, and then this winter decided to pummel us day after motherfucking day with snow, cold, and gray.  Always with the gray.  And the shoveling.  And the wind. 

Fuck.

I know that millions of Americans have had shittacular to the nth degree weather this year, I get it.  But this year I needed to not dive deeper into that angry bitch we call depression.  I needed sunshine when we had a 2+ week stretch of cloudy, angry days.  I needed "me" time when I ended up shoveling 3-4 times a day.  I needed to hop on my bike and just...ride when we had snow so deep that one could barely walk in it. 

I've always been good at (and smugly prided myself at) being able to pretty much force myself out of any psyche-wallowing that I would find myself in.  I'm sardonic, sarcastic, and pretty much a smart assed know-it-all, and in the face of soul-crushing depression I always thought I could talk myself out of it.
 
Well, I usually could, but not this time. 

I'm actually feeling a lot better these days, and my new treadmill/happy machine arrives tomorrow, so things are looking up.  Mostly I just wanted you to know that things aren't always sunshine and happiness at Casa de VonPartypants. 
Especially when Renaldo, my shockingly good-looking and seemingly not gay pool boy/manservant, has the week off.  Man- that fucking SUCKS.  I hate it when there isn't anyone to wax my bikini line and bring me fresh mojitos.  Sucks.

XOXO

Dear Dad:

This is the only post as such where I will acknowledge your status.

You  haven't been much of a Dad to me these last 10 years or so.

Mostly, I want to erase you from my memory. The good memories aren't good enough and the bad ones aren't good for blog fodder.

Mostly I just want you out of my life.  You're an asshole and you make me feel bad about who I am, which I have no patience for.

Mostly...

Mostly I just want you to realize what a monumental disappointment you are and how much your awesome daughter has been hurt by this.  You?  Are a jerk and I don"t give a crap what happens to you anymore.  You're not worth a second of my time.

It's too bad that you don't see who I really am.
For realsies.

Emerald asshat borer, for such a pretty bug you sure are a jerk.

So, I was reading the little local community paper last night, and there was an article about the next phase of removing Ash trees in St. Paul that will likely die in the next few years due to the pretty, iridescent bug pictured below.  The article stated that one particular stretch of roadway would have a very large number of trees removed.

Well, this stretch of street is not the street that runs in front of my house (thankfully), but it is the street that runs the other way, only 1/2 block from my house.  So basically, when I walk out my front door, take a right, and go 1/2 block- there I am.  I can see this street from my front door, I walk along its shady boulevard nearly every day, and when I am driving home, turn the corner and see this beautiful canopy of 50-60+ foot green...well it always makes me happy:

If you look close, you can see that pretty much every tree pictured has a red ring painted on it.  That ring is the "red ring of doom" and it means that by the end of the day tomorrow, 42 of the 53 trees in a two-and-a-half block stretch will be gone.  FORTY TWO OUT OF FIFTY THREE IN A 2.5 BLOCK STRETCH, folks!!  There will be 11 trees left, half of which look to be no more than 5-8 years old.

There really isn't anyone to blame- I guess we could blame whoever planted these Ash trees many, many years ago for not considering the fact that planting such a large concentration of the same type of tree in one area could someday be a problem.  Obviously they never thought that a tiny beetle would come along and wipe out all of the greenery in one fell swoop.  Lesson to be learned: monocultures never work out so well- just ask many of the folks in the more rural parts of the deep South and their uncle-brothers.

There have been a lot of meetings, screaming and highly-charged debates all over the city about the sweeping removal of these trees.  This block pictured by my house is just one many streets that will virtually be stripped of 90-100% of their trees. Some people think that the uninfected trees should stay, and maybe they'll be spared.  I guess there is a chemical treatment that sometimes will prolong the life of the tree, but it's effectiveness is "meh" at best, from what I've read.

As much as I hate what it means, I'm on the side of the city with this one- they've been monitoring the Ash borer for years now, and they've been watching other cities that are having the same problem.  This isn't so much a problem of IF the trees will get infested, but WHEN.  And the city has made it very clear that they have the money right now to remove and replace the trees, but they may not have enough money in the future for anything beyond removing the affected trees- the stumps will sit, and the trees won't be replaced.
Sure, there may be a few trees here and there that would remain unaffected, but who is to know which ones until we're surrounded by dead or dying trees?  Personally, I'd rather see new trees get planted ASAP, so that maybe in ten or 15 years we'll at least have medium-sized trees and  tiny bit of shade again.  It's hard, though, and I never thought I'd be so emotionally affected by this topic.  Trees are a huge part of what makes a neighborhood "home".  My 'hood may be mostly blue-collar, mid-sized older homes, but it is a very nice 'hood just the same.  We are lucky to have a large number of huge, mature shade trees, and removing them will no doubt change the whole personality of the streets most affected.  Shade trees encourage walking and outdoor activity, which encourages people to interact.  People interacting creates a neighborhood, a community.  A strong community means more proactive citizens, lower crime, and better property values. 

But mostly I'm just really bummed today that we're losing so many trees in my neighborhood, dammit.

I swear, if no one had been looking I would have hugged each and every one of them.

Another hot day in July, 1991.

Every year this day sneaks up on me. 
I have a dear, old friend who has the unfortunate distinction of having his birthday be the same day as the day my Mom died, nineteen years ago today.  Every year, when I wish him a happy birthday, I'm reminded of that day in 1991.   I'm reminded of how fragmented my family has become, and I'm reminded of the woman I had just begun to get to know as an adult, rather than as a difficult, angry teenager.  I always loved her, but I had just started figuring out how much I actually liked her as a person, and not just as my Mom. 

There's so much I never had a chance to ask- what was I like as a baby/small child?  Did she have any boyfriends before dad and what were they like?  What was it like when her Mom died?  What deep, dark family secrets could she have told me? 

I have a good life now- I have my own little family with the Mr. and our furry menagerie, I have my in-laws that I adore, I have my sisters (that occasionally drive me insane like sisters do, but I still love them to death), I have old, dear friends that I would walk over red-hot coals for if they needed me to, and I'm lucky to have a nice, comfortable place to call home. 

But still- I can't help but think that, without her, I'm missing a very big piece of the picture.  When things are bad, when I screw up in the huge ways I tend to screw up, or the Universe sees fit to heap a big pile of steaming shit onto my plate, those are the times that feel that deep, deep void in my belly.
 
I will probably always feel this way, which is fine.  This feeling over the years has made me a better person- I've fought hard to get to the point I'm at today, and I work harder to maintain the relationships that really matter.  I may not be able to ever really fill the void she left, but I really don't think that is the point anyways.  We don't need to fill the empty seats as much as we need to make sure the party goes on with whomever is left at the table. 

So I raise my glass to you, Marie.  You sure are missed.

I should do that?

At the beginning of the first session of the rowing class I just completed, the instructors went around the room and asked us to tell everyone our names and why we had signed up for the class.  One by one, various people introduced themselves, and most everyone had similar reasons for joining: they liked canoeing and wanted to try something new, they thought it would be fun, they were hoping to get into better shape, etc...
When my turn came, I said my name and then I stated, "I signed up for this class because when I used to work on the river and would see the rowers swooshing by, I would always say to myself 'I should do that sometime', but I never did.  I decided to make this year my year of 'I should do that', so I signed up the first chance I got.  I can't wait to do this."
Later on, one of my classmates asked me about my "plan" and what else it involved.  I told her that, for at least the next year or so, anything even remotely reasonable or attainable that I think "I should do that", I'm going to do without hesitation.  So far this has just involved taking the rowing class, planning a return to college this Fall to finally get a degree (22 years after starting), joining a gym (I normally detest working out and revealing my true sweaty self around other people, so we'll see how this goes), and regular flossing. Just kidding- I'll never remember to floss every day, I'm too busy hand-sewing bumblebee costumes for the cats to bother.
Mostly I just want to spend more time accomplishing, even if the accomplishments are as small as finally getting around to waxing my pooner into the shape of one of those "slippery when wet" signs on the freeway, like I've been meaning to do.  I don't want to look back and say, "I should have done that".  I want to look back and say, "Damn that waxing hurt like a motherfucker, but remember how cool it looked?"


Also on the list so far:

• Learning Spanish beyond "Una limonada por favor" and "dos cervesas- muy rapido!" 
• convert the garage into "creative work space" instead of "piles of shit everywhere space"
• learn how to weld (and by default, live out those "Flashdance" fantasies of mine)

So, I'll admit the list isn't exactly huge, but I'm trying to be realistic as far as how much free time I have here.  But hey- considering that I only started my quest this month and I've already checked two and a half items off, I'd say I'm doing pretty fan-fuckingtastic, and I have to admit that I feel pretty fan-fuckingtastic about it as well.

So there you go- a rare, marginally touchy-feely, feel-goodery post from yours truly.  Don't get used to it.

Now go and get me a cold beverage, dammit.  It's hotter and more humid than Satan's taint during a trip to the rainforest today and I'm starting to feel all melty, cranky, and mildewy.   I girl like me can only keep up this "positivity" crap for so long, you know.  Even I have my limits.