A Little Housekeeping

Generally speaking, I have no intention of blogging on weekends. It's just that the first days of the year are falling on said weekend and I have motivational issues. Just so's you know.

It is a very beautiful, cold day. Kiki noted the "shunshine". Lots of that at the moment.

Oh, and speaking of Kiki, here are a couple of her more recent bon mots:

The other day I was fixin' on taking her out shopping (The Child had Christmas gift cards to burn through) and we planned on having sushi for lunch. I asked Kiki if she like edemame and she replied, "I like my daddy".

She is enamoured of computers and when she saw me typing an email to The Spouse she declared, "Me type". So I turned the keyboard over to her. She typed, and I quote, "hjkkkkklklkllllllllll;llkl;./ll;l;l;;l;';';';';oopopooop".

Isn't she brilliant?

Alrighty then. I took the week off between Christmas and New Years. I composed a list of areas in the house to organize. (Those cupboards and drawers used to stay pretty tidy when I was a full time homemaker. Now, not so much). Considering how much time I spent just sittin' on my arse, there are a lot of lines drawn through the list. But I never got around to my closet. And it has reached critical mass. So here I go.

You Arrived Like a Day and Passed Like a Cloud

I don't mean to be Debbie Downer here, folks, but Rainey is really sad. This thing with Sooz has just got me so so so veryvery sad. One piece of it, for sure, is just the whole thing of Peter being a widower and Kiki losing her mom before she's even old enough to remember her, which is bad enough. My friend is broken hearted and there is nothing I can do about it.

But the other thing, which is really selfish, is my loss. Because this isn't a loss like I'm used to. I've lost people before and that is its own kind of sadness. But with Suzanne, we're talking about a person who I had only started to get to know. She wasn't one of my best friends but over time she would have been. Our lives were intertwined, forever, because she asked me to be Kiki's godmom. And when I said "yes" to that I told her that it was for life. "In for a penny, in for a pound" were, I believe, my exact words. I told her that being that child's godmother wasn't just for the day of her baptism but was a commitment for life, to the child and to her and Peter as they raised her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that signing on for first days of school and sex talks and first sacraments and bad boyfriends that there was any possibility of it being done without Suzanne. But when I told her that if I was in I was all in her response was "Love. Every. Word". And so we began to build our friendship.

But we didn't have much time. I counted it up yesterday. There are less than 20 occasions where Suzanne and I were together, not counting phone calls - which were frequent - and Facebook, which was even more frequent. One dinner, one lunch, one BBQ, one pedicure, 2 brunches, a handful of parties. Every one of those occasions is clear in my heart, like scenes from a movie. Like the time she turned to me at The Child's Sweet Sixteen party and asked, "How did you do it? How did you raise a teenager who is so totally aware of the world but still so sweet and innocent?" Never having been asked that I said something inane, like "I don't know" and then we talked about it. Because I don't really know how you raise a child. You just do what you have to do each day and somehow all those little exercises lead up to the end product. But the point is, I have so few memories of Suzanne that I can remember them all vividly. Which I guess is a good thing.

Yesterday at her wake Peter was playing her iPod...Sooze's playlist. And it could have been mine. Well, actually, mine has way more 80's music and no BTO but still. "Talk of the Town" by The Pretenders came on and I started to cry. Because that is one of my favorite songs and all I could think was "Dammit...we could have been besties and we're never going to be because the frakking cancer came and took her away". And then I felt REALLY selfish because there were people on that rooftop, eating fabulous food and drinking pink champan-ya (her favorite), that had lost so much more than I had...so much more time and history. People who talked to her every day. People like her mom. Her husband. And there I was boo hooing because I didn't have her anymore.

Oy to the frakking vey.

Anywake, the point is, I'm really going to miss this woman I didn't even know as well as I could have but who is going to be a constant part of my life because she has entrusted me with the spiritual life of her beautiful child. And right now, it is a weight past bearing.

Heights and Depths

The sun is shining beautifully this morning, which is quite nice of it considering that most mornings this week have started out overcast. Even when it burns off (and it has), there is something a little impertinent about a summer morning starting out grey.

My youngest niece is getting married tomorrow, to a handsome sailor. I have pledged to sing "O Promise Me". (It's a family joke). Except over the weekend my niece Jane Austen and I decided that she's going to sing with me and it's going to be a mashup of "O Promise Me" and "Endless Love". And believe me when I tell you that I wish we'd thought of that sooner because we really would have worked it up, complete with a dance number and it would have been FANTASTIC!

On the downside, my darling Kiki's momma is slipping away very fast. For the record, ovarian cancer is a very cruel and sucky condition and it should be outlawed. Immediately. I got to say my 'goodbyes' yesterday and now am just waiting. Waiting for the phone call. Waiting to help. Waiting. I learned a lot of important things yesterday, which I will maybe share another time. But one of the most profound was this: I have never before been at the bedside of someone who was actively dying. And it came to me with the most gentle clarity that death is preferable to dying. It was a gift and a luxury to have time to say 'goodbye' and 'I love you' and 'thank you for the gift of your daughter'. And I hope everyone who loves Sooz gets there in time to have that gift. But then my only hope is that she will go swiftly. There will be a huge void in the world with her gone and there will be a lot of pieces to pick up and all that. But her sticking around, suffering, is not right. At all.

As usual, any prayers/candles/naked pagan dances you have to offer would be very much appreciated.

It's not yet 7. Who needs another cup of coffee?



Update: Suzanne passed away on Saturday morning, July 24. I'd said a final 'goodbye' to her about an hour before. I'll need to write more on this later but right now am still processing all that has happened and what it means. Rest in peace, Sooz. You are deeply loved.

Eggs and Alleluias

Soon, very soon, I will grab the alb I purchased last year (so as to never, ever, ever again in my life have to enter into the malstrom that is the sacristy before a big liturgy) and prepare to assist at and participate in the Easter Vigil.

I love the Easter Vigil. Some people hate it because it is the longest liturgy of the year. It begins when the sun goes down...with the lighting of the sacred fire...and ends when it ends. Average? 3.5 hours. But it's gone longer...depends on how many people are being baptised.

But part of what I love about it is that it is so essentially Easter and Christian. Easter Sunday is swell but church always feels a little off. It's crowded and crazy and full of C&E Christians. And I don't begrudge them because I used to be one. But I can be far more prayerful at the Easter Vigil and, as an added bonus, then I have all Easter Sunday to prepare dinner and nap and what-have-you.

This Easter Sunday will be very special because Suzanne asked if we'd take god-daughter Kiki for the day. Suzanne is still recovering from multiple surgeries and other nonsense related to her cancer (which, btw, sucks) and, as she put it, "I want her to have a fun day but I'm just not up to making it happen". Well, that's what god-moms are for, say I. So there will be an Easter egg hunt and egg dying and lots of other general spoiling. The Child is very excited (because we weren't going to have an egg hunt this year and even though she was 16 she was disappointed so, yay, she still gets one). She is very sensible of her role as "big sister" in the Kikster's life. And I just realized that now that Kiki is in our life, Easter egg hunts will, in fact, continue in our home for the foreseeable future. So there you go.

Anybunny, here is wishing all my Blogtopian friends a very blessed Easter (if you swing that way) and a very nice Sunday to those who don't.

Traffic Circles are a Good Thing

It is an absolutely glorious spring day outside. Alright, it isn't technically spring, but you wouldn't know it to be outside in the sunshine with the bulbs bursting all over, the scent of fragrant blooms everywhere and the very busy birds.

But I'm not out in it preparing garden beds or checking the progress of the lilac. I'm feeling kinda drained. So far this weekend has been a bit fraught.

First

Yesterday I had a little accident. I'd picked up The Child and her Best Friend from rehearsal and I was giving a ride to another kid. We were entering an uncontrolled intersection only blocks from his house when I saw another car barrelling down the street toward us. I slammed on my brakes and frankly, closed my eyes and braced for impact. Dude was totally going to T-bone us. But my car angels - who happen to be really, really good car angels - saw to it that the other driver just hit me on the driver's side fender. (They also shoved him up over the curb and blew out one of his tires).

After checking that everyone was OK, I got out to exchange information with the dude. Who was totally belligerent and accused me of running a stop sign. I pointed out that there was no stop sign, that he was doing 30 on a neighborhood street and that he, in fact, was supposed to yield to me. He got on the phone to the cops and I heard him saying that I'd run a stop sign. Dude hands me his phone with a gruff, "They want to talk to you" and the cop asked me what was going on. I told her my version, gave her out license plate numbers and such and handed the phone back.

While we waited for the cops to arrive I called The Spouse to tell him we'd be a little late. After a concerned, "Oh, no! Is everyone OK?" he asked "Whose fault was it?" Later that evening I pointed out to him that, really, one shouldn't go straight there in a situation like that. Sheesh.

Anyway, the cop shows up and dude is all, "she ran a stop sign" and the cop pointed out there was no stop sign. He got my story and dude's and then very matter-of-factly said, "She had the right of way. It's your fault". Then he asked if we'd like him to facilitate our exchange of information and while he was doing that dude suddenly became all, "I'm glad no one was hurt, I'm glad I didn't hit your door", like that. Yeah. I was frakking glad he hadn't hit my frakking door either. Idiot. And, btw, he never actually apologized for hitting my frakking car. Whatever. He got a ticket and a flat so there is justice in the world.

Now my car, which already had a dented driver's door from another little altercation several years ago, has been officially declared, by MAB, as a hooptie. Given that it is 10 years old and has a leaking manifold which causes it to frequently rumble like an active volcano, I think that's fair. Good thing a new car purchase has already been a topic of familial discussion.

Second
I got to visit with Suzanne, mother of my god-daughter Kiki. She is recovering from surgery, following her recent diagnosis of stage iv ovarian cancer. She'll start chemo next week. She's bearing up well, all things considered, and she gave me a little job to do for her which makes me feel like I'm being useful (besides praying, of course). And, of course, I got to spend time with the gorgeous Kiki, most-beautiful-god-baby-in-all-the-land. When I left I told her that I was going to give her a kiss and she lifted up her little blossom of a face and pursed her lips. Ad.or.a.ble.

But it is hard. I love this little family so much and the road ahead is going to be very difficult. I believe in miracles because they happen every day. But that doesn't negate the reality of just how hard the coming months are going to be. Thank heaven we only have to take one day at a time.

So now all that is said, I'm now going to motivate myself. I'm going to clear away piles of paper and sweep things and put clean sheets on the bed. I'm going to start pizza dough (mmmm...pizza) and I'm going to take my camera outside and make pictures of buds. Because buds are one of the most hopeful things I can think of. Then I think I'll make myself some sort of old fashioned sort of cocktail, like an Old Fashioned maybe, and read something uplifting. That sounds like a good idea, doesn't it?

How Come My Pictures are So Tiny?

I can't speak for where you live but believe me when I say that September is absolutely THE most glorious month in Seattle. The evenings are cool, sometimes cool enough that you get a little misty fog in the morning but the days are almost all bright and crisp and sunny. Perfect.

It was perfect last week when we had our party for the Fisher House.

See? (That's me being paparrazi).

And it was beautiful on Sunday when Kiki was baptized. Here's a little tiny photo album:

Most babies fuss (or even scream bloody murder) when they are baptized. Not Kiki. She plopped herself down in the font and looked around like, "Alrighty then, let's do this!"


I love that the photographer caught this moment...just there Father is telling Papa "She's right at home". Significant use of language, wouldn't you say?

This is godmom waiting on the altar with the light:
Here's all the gang on the steps of the Cathedral after Mass:
Here's Kiki with The Child, enjoying one of her cupcakes:

And here she is making many crumbs for The Dog to eat later:
What's that? You wanted to see the official portrait? Oh. OK.

If This Was on a Post-it It Would be One of the Little Square Ones. In Pink.

Busy, busy weekend. In fact, today I will be tempted, when people ask "How was your weekend?" to say, "What weekend"?

It was my god-daughter Kiki's baptism weekend. That meant a seminar in the morning. Then Kiki's mom, Suzanne, and I went and got our toes did. Then I took her to a salon to get her bangs did. Then I took her home. Then I got home at 4 and had to borrow champagn-ya flutes from The Neighbor and start cooking and oh, yeah, clean my house and there were 2 separate trips to the grocery store and we didn't eat dinner until 10pm (and aren't I just very thankful for a) a patient family and 2) Trader Joe's Mandarin Orange Chicken in a bag).

Then I got up early on Sunday to see if I could get the house a little cleaner, which didn't go exactly as I'd hoped but I also reached that point where you go "Screw 'em" in reference to anyone who may be attending the party who may care strongly about cleanliness levels and then it was off to church for the sacrament (which was soooo lovely) and then back to the house for a party (which was very fine and no one said a thing about the dust) and by the time it was all over all I could do was sit in front of my computer for a few hours and play Sims2 until The Spouse served a glorious bistro dinner of Steak au Poivre and pomme frittes.

And now I just looked at the clock and have to be at work in 35 minutes and since 10 of those are spent driving I'd better go, huh?

This is my beautiful god-daughter at the party yesterday.

Drum Roll, Please

I would like you all to meet my god-daughter, Kiki.


Let me tell you a little about her, aside from the obvious, which is that she is very beautiful.

Once upon a time her daddy moved to Seattle. He was a lovely boy and I met him at a time when I really needed to know a lovely boy. He became my best friend and we were pretty near inseparable for something like two years. But it is hard, it's been famously said, for a man and a woman to be friends (if they are both straight) and we were no exception. There wasn't a guy I dated during that period who didn't have issues with it. And now, upon consideration, I realize they were entitled. Because the fact was that I wasn't making particularly excellent choices then and I much preferred an evening of shooting pool or hanging out making dinner and playing guitars with Peter to just about anything else. Which, let's face it, doesn't give other relationships much of a shot.

But talking about relationships was the one thing Peter and I didn't do very well. (Sometimes I wouldn't even mention I was dating someone until I was done dating him and he, I think, did the
same thing). And really, both of us needed to be giving some serious attention to the possibility of love. So, one thing and another, we stopped hanging out. Which was sad but sorta inevitable.

I got married. I got pregnant and had The Child. We still saw Peter sometimes, at the wine shop where he worked. Then he got married. One Christmas Eve we saw Peter at mass and met his wife, the lovely Suzanne. For some years that Christmas Eve "hello" was the extent of the relationship.

Then, and this sounds silly but it is true, Facebook happened. I friended Peter. Then I friended Suzanne. Suzanne and I, in particular, started writing little messages to each other and it felt, in a virtual way, that not only was I becoming friends with her but that a friendship with Peter was being restored.

One Sunday we ran into them after Mass and they were in possession of a beautiful, tiny baby. A miracle baby. They had applied to adopt but didn't think their chances were that excellent because they were in their 40s and you know how people are about "older" people adopting (unless they are Madonna or Brad Pitt). Mostly, I think, Peter and Suzanne were just covering all the bases. Then they went on holiday. They came back to many phone messages saying there was a baby and could they meet with the birth mother. Which they did. And she liked them. And within 48 hours they were in possession of Kiki. (Katherine Rose, to be official).

I was invited to the hearing wherein Kiki became officially theirs. It felt like a sacrament. I almost genuflected before I sat on one of the courthouse benches. The little family was called before the judge to tell the story and pledge their commitment to their daughter. (Something those of us who birth a child aren't called to do and more's the pity if you ask me). And voila! Peter and Suzanne were officially parents.

I will tell you the truth. When I left the hearing I felt a little sad. It was a great honor to be included in the group who witnessed the event but it was also clear that Suzanne and Peter have a rich, full life with wonderful friends and neighbors. We have an equally full life. I felt the weight of all the stories between Peter and my "then" and our "now", with no clear way to fill the gap and find a way to play in each other's lives again. It made me sad to think that Facebook and Christmas Eve were to be the extent of our friendship.

Then, out of the blue it seemed, Suzanne sent a message asking if I'd consider being Kiki's godmother.

Consider it? Well, let me think about this for a - oh, hell yes. Official license to spoil that little dumpling? I'm in.

And, as I told Suzanne, in meant all in. Being someone's godmother doesn't mean standing at the font one Sunday, hands outstretched in blessing. It means pledging to God and Peter and Suzanne to be there for them and Kiki as she grows up. It means praying for her and loving her and spending time with her and listening to her. It means taking her out to buy a back pack before she starts school and buying her a corsage when she graduates middle school. It means going to her concerts and giving her Easter baskets and taking her to dinner to celebrate the occasions of her life. It means loving her and being a friend to her even when she is no longer possessed of chubby, edible toes. (I learned all this from The Child's godparents; good role models there, people).

Of course, having informed Suzanne of all that I waited to see if they still wanted me to do it. Saying "yes" to Kiki was to say "yes" to them. If I was going to be Kiki's godmother, they were pretty much going to be stuck with me and The Spouse and The Child. Apparently, they are fine with that.

Yesterday we met at the Corpus Christi Mass and then went to brunch, the start, I know, of many such "family" get-togethers. It was delightful.

Don't I just have the cutest god-baby in the world? Love. Her.