Norman and I have THECRUD, a terrible Normandy disease that has been making the rounds for about a month now. As Normy weighs 8lbs and I... weighalittlebitmorethanthat, I worry more about the state of his health than mine. It’s a horrible feeling when you wake up to a dead weight (of a cat) wrapped about your neck that won’t move or react no matter how much you poke and prod. I had to keep getting up all night just to make sure he was still alive. Imagine the appeal then condemnation in his gummy, sad eyes as I shook him for the umpteenth time, ‘Fix me? Ughhhhh, you *suck* at being my owner. Why the hell do you keep waking me up, dammit? Can’t you tell I’m sick?’
Eventually I make it through the night, make myself *slightly* presentable for work (ignoring all the cat hair Norman 'lovingly bestowed' on me for his care), fetch my chai, and head outside. All of this was done in an incredibly listless and lethargic way.
I make my way to the parking ramp.
(da DUH)
I forgo the elevator for the stairs, slowly making my way upward.
(da DUH)
Step.
(da DUH da DUH)
Step.
(da DUH da DUH)
Jingling my keys, sipping my chai- I can see the back bumper of my car as I continue on. Something draws my attention behind me
(da DUH da DUH)
I twist my head and keep walking. *sploosh* I feel wetness on my leg, in irritation my eyes are drawn down my legs toward my feet
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
A chill runs down my back. What the..? I see but I can’t comprehend. This puddle is... this puddle is *red*. I confirm with my fingers
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
With dawning horror- I widen my field of vision and see a long crimson stream, collecting in the puddle I have stepped in. Enormous eyes- I start to run with the pooling liquid, the only sounds my harsh breath and clicking heels.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Click click.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Click click.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
Tension mounts as the trail leads me closer and *closer* to the source of the unknown substance. My heart races, my body reacts and draws me to an abrupt halt near the end of my journey. I can’t bring myself to peer around the final obstruction to the answer.
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH)
I can’t bring myself to look... but I have to *know*. One hand on my bumper- crouching down and biting my lips, I slowly straighten. Inch by inch, the source of the original puddle is revealed. And then:
::drops chai::
AHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHh!! NO! Oh GOD NO!?!?!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
(daDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUHdaDUH WREEWREE)
A commuter comes running. ‘Are you okay?!’
Am I okay..? AM I OKAY? *Heck* no, I’m not okay- my freakin’ transmission is leaking all over the place again!
(ba bum BUM ching;)
So. I have no idea what I’m going to do... *and* I feel like HELL. I’d ask Skinny Stan for help but we’re feuding after some choice words were exchanged over the temperature by my desk. I guess I’m walking again. I may just get pneumonia and DIE. Stephanie’s been following me, hosing down everything I touch or even breathe on with Lysol. That can’t be good for me either. In retribution, I stuck my finger in her tea behind the front desk. Ha! Take that! Oh crap... there goes my karma.
...dammit.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Kell's professional hotel advice for the day
Stay out of the B building...
MR Bugs, MR.
MNO Bugs.
OSMR!
CDEDBD IIs?
OS- IC!
MR Bugs, MR.
...for at least a week.
BYE!
:D
MR Bugs, MR.
MNO Bugs.
OSMR!
CDEDBD IIs?
OS- IC!
MR Bugs, MR.
...for at least a week.
BYE!
:D
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
3 phone calls
*OR*
Everything that's wrong with me is probably my family's fault.
I talk to my grandmother twice a year. Once on her birthday, once on mine. The former was a couple of weeks ago. The entire day I'm suffused with a sense of heavy responsibility as if my task was something completely arduous- more akin to having teeth pulled than a social call to a sweet elderly woman. I put it off as long as possible and my guilt over this fact is multiplied with imagined lamentations of my poor grandma's woe. She is catholic, I am not- and this is the one time of the year I wonder how much of that has rubbed off on me after all. This purported catholicism is *not* the reason for my silence, however. In fact... I have no idea why I don’t call more. Huh.
Phone call #1. 09/28/08
Me: "Happy birthday grandma! How do you feel? How are things?"
Gdog: "Well... can you believe I’m still alive?"
Me: "Oh my freakin god, don’t say that gram-"
Gdog: "Yeah, yeah- yeah. Let’s skip the pleasantries- lord knows I don’t have that much time left and neither do you, seeing as how you bought the cheap cell phone plan."
Me: :-o
Gdog: "Your mother said you went on a trip. Did you have a good time?"
Me: "Why *yes* I did indee..."
Gdog: "And then she said you met someone when you were there. I guess you did have a good time."
Me: "Uh... she told you that?"
Gdog: "And then she said he was coming here to see you in a couple of weeks. Sounds like HE had a good time too."
Me: "Erm... she told you that?"
Gdog: "Word of advice kiddo- just take things slow. You're plenty young, you know? Love you dear, gotta go."
Me: "Um... No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
So about a month ago I had a moment with someone. I assumed at the time it was just an experience I was having but seeing as how he booked a flight *here*, it must have been a shared experience thus making it a moment. Yeah. Does that make sense? :) After floating on that fabulous feeling for a month I decided it was time to tear it apart piece by piece and analyze every single moment of said trip. I wasn't feeling enough doubt or uncertainty about the whole thing, so it was definitely time to call my friend Scarlett.
Phone call #2. 10/05/08
Me: "Helllloooo dahling!"
BFFScar: "It’s about time you called to invite me, I was feeling completely unloved at the moment!"
Me: "Uhhh... what, why?"
BFFScar: "Your cousin Danny told me all about it- you’re bringing that guy up here to meet the whole family. I know we’re not *biologically* related or anything but I always kinda assumed I was part of your little urban Duluth family..."
Me: "Of course you are, silly. But what is this about meeting the family?"
BFFScar: "Well GOOD. Now that I know the urban fam is invited, I’m going to ask some of the old crew to come too. You know, we all worked together for so long and I know they’d love to see you before you move for good."
Me: "WHAT!?"
BFFScar: "Danny said your uncle Dan wanted to do it at his house- so with the say, 10 of us and Danny’s estimate of just your immediate family... like 15 more plus some kids? Is your uncle's house big enough to hold 30 people and enough food to feed everybody?"
Me: :-o "Erm, Scar? I gotta go..."
BFFScar: "Okay hun, just let me know if his house is going to work or if you’d rather we rent someplace. I’m so touched you want me to be included in this! Love you!"
Me: "Um... No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
I stare at the phone for a few moments (because, you know- the phone was sharing the same FREAKY experience as me;) Now where the hell would my cousin get this idea? I talk to him less than I talk to my grandm... oh HELL. Now I remember why I only call her twice a year. I better do some damage control quick before this REALLY gets out of hand.
Phone call #3. 10/07/08
Me: "MUM!"
Maternal Figure: "KELL!"
Me: "Okay... so you’re not going to believe this. You know how I call gram on her birthday?" ::Here I launch into the whole story, ending with the subsequent party in ‘our’ honor making sure to emphasize my utter lack of any declaration to do such a thing:: "So why would she do this?"
MF: *complete nonchalance* "Meh, you know my mother is a raving lunatic at times."
Me: "What should I do? Hey! Maybe when she invites YOU to this shindig, you can explain how she just misinterpreted it the wrong way? But please mum, be nice."
MF: "Can’t do."
Me: "You can’t be nice? Omg- she’s your mother fer christ’s sake- er wait... Wait. A minute. Did you know about this?" :-o
MF: "She invited me two weeks ago."
Me: "Mo-ther! Why didn’t you SAY anything- you knew what was really goin-"
MF: "Your sister’s making her cauliflower salad and Uncle Mart is bringing a green bean casserole with those crunchy onions on top. Gosh Kell, you know how I love those crunchy onions. Don’t be so selfish."
Me: "I can’t bring him up there! *I’ve* only met him twice! Why would I do this? Why is everyone assuming these things?"
MF: "Don’t be silly. Just pretend you didn't know anything about it. Now I have to go to the store, I'm running low on fillings and I'm supposed to make two pies, you think two pies ought to be enough for everyone? It should be- but you know how Dusty and Joe like those banana cream pies... I'll be damned if I'm making them their OWN private pie though. Anyways, love you kid, take care."
Me: "No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
So picture a whole room full of MEs- excitable and slightly nuts, bumping into things and spilling beverages all over the place. Hehehe, I almost wish I *was* going...
<3 my fam sometimes.
Everything that's wrong with me is probably my family's fault.
I talk to my grandmother twice a year. Once on her birthday, once on mine. The former was a couple of weeks ago. The entire day I'm suffused with a sense of heavy responsibility as if my task was something completely arduous- more akin to having teeth pulled than a social call to a sweet elderly woman. I put it off as long as possible and my guilt over this fact is multiplied with imagined lamentations of my poor grandma's woe. She is catholic, I am not- and this is the one time of the year I wonder how much of that has rubbed off on me after all. This purported catholicism is *not* the reason for my silence, however. In fact... I have no idea why I don’t call more. Huh.
Phone call #1. 09/28/08
Me: "Happy birthday grandma! How do you feel? How are things?"
Gdog: "Well... can you believe I’m still alive?"
Me: "Oh my freakin god, don’t say that gram-"
Gdog: "Yeah, yeah- yeah. Let’s skip the pleasantries- lord knows I don’t have that much time left and neither do you, seeing as how you bought the cheap cell phone plan."
Me: :-o
Gdog: "Your mother said you went on a trip. Did you have a good time?"
Me: "Why *yes* I did indee..."
Gdog: "And then she said you met someone when you were there. I guess you did have a good time."
Me: "Uh... she told you that?"
Gdog: "And then she said he was coming here to see you in a couple of weeks. Sounds like HE had a good time too."
Me: "Erm... she told you that?"
Gdog: "Word of advice kiddo- just take things slow. You're plenty young, you know? Love you dear, gotta go."
Me: "Um... No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
So about a month ago I had a moment with someone. I assumed at the time it was just an experience I was having but seeing as how he booked a flight *here*, it must have been a shared experience thus making it a moment. Yeah. Does that make sense? :) After floating on that fabulous feeling for a month I decided it was time to tear it apart piece by piece and analyze every single moment of said trip. I wasn't feeling enough doubt or uncertainty about the whole thing, so it was definitely time to call my friend Scarlett.
Phone call #2. 10/05/08
Me: "Helllloooo dahling!"
BFFScar: "It’s about time you called to invite me, I was feeling completely unloved at the moment!"
Me: "Uhhh... what, why?"
BFFScar: "Your cousin Danny told me all about it- you’re bringing that guy up here to meet the whole family. I know we’re not *biologically* related or anything but I always kinda assumed I was part of your little urban Duluth family..."
Me: "Of course you are, silly. But what is this about meeting the family?"
BFFScar: "Well GOOD. Now that I know the urban fam is invited, I’m going to ask some of the old crew to come too. You know, we all worked together for so long and I know they’d love to see you before you move for good."
Me: "WHAT!?"
BFFScar: "Danny said your uncle Dan wanted to do it at his house- so with the say, 10 of us and Danny’s estimate of just your immediate family... like 15 more plus some kids? Is your uncle's house big enough to hold 30 people and enough food to feed everybody?"
Me: :-o "Erm, Scar? I gotta go..."
BFFScar: "Okay hun, just let me know if his house is going to work or if you’d rather we rent someplace. I’m so touched you want me to be included in this! Love you!"
Me: "Um... No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
I stare at the phone for a few moments (because, you know- the phone was sharing the same FREAKY experience as me;) Now where the hell would my cousin get this idea? I talk to him less than I talk to my grandm... oh HELL. Now I remember why I only call her twice a year. I better do some damage control quick before this REALLY gets out of hand.
Phone call #3. 10/07/08
Me: "MUM!"
Maternal Figure: "KELL!"
Me: "Okay... so you’re not going to believe this. You know how I call gram on her birthday?" ::Here I launch into the whole story, ending with the subsequent party in ‘our’ honor making sure to emphasize my utter lack of any declaration to do such a thing:: "So why would she do this?"
MF: *complete nonchalance* "Meh, you know my mother is a raving lunatic at times."
Me: "What should I do? Hey! Maybe when she invites YOU to this shindig, you can explain how she just misinterpreted it the wrong way? But please mum, be nice."
MF: "Can’t do."
Me: "You can’t be nice? Omg- she’s your mother fer christ’s sake- er wait... Wait. A minute. Did you know about this?" :-o
MF: "She invited me two weeks ago."
Me: "Mo-ther! Why didn’t you SAY anything- you knew what was really goin-"
MF: "Your sister’s making her cauliflower salad and Uncle Mart is bringing a green bean casserole with those crunchy onions on top. Gosh Kell, you know how I love those crunchy onions. Don’t be so selfish."
Me: "I can’t bring him up there! *I’ve* only met him twice! Why would I do this? Why is everyone assuming these things?"
MF: "Don’t be silly. Just pretend you didn't know anything about it. Now I have to go to the store, I'm running low on fillings and I'm supposed to make two pies, you think two pies ought to be enough for everyone? It should be- but you know how Dusty and Joe like those banana cream pies... I'll be damned if I'm making them their OWN private pie though. Anyways, love you kid, take care."
Me: "No it’s not (mumble) I mean, yes, but (mumble)" ::sigh:: "Love you too..."
*click*
So picture a whole room full of MEs- excitable and slightly nuts, bumping into things and spilling beverages all over the place. Hehehe, I almost wish I *was* going...
<3 my fam sometimes.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
To be a storyteller?
Up until he turned 60 years old, my father’s eyes still sparkled like a child’s. He could be both imposing in his respectability and mischievously amused by the lighter side of things. One minute you’d be awed by the application of his amazing wealth of knowledge- the next, mildly chagrined that you were taken in by a completely outlandish story. (Once he had me *convinced* that he managed to escape a bear in the woods using only a can of tuna fish) Children and animals flocked to him; *villains* were terrified of him.
When he was 60 years old he was diagnosed with renal cancer. After a heartbreakingly rapid and painful struggle, he died. Cancer fights dirty. It’s been 5 years. It’s been 5 years.
You never stop saying goodbye- it’s a continual process. I don’t know if this is better or worse. A few months after he died, my niece broke the dollhouse he had built for me when I was little. I had to struggle to recall the exact shape of his nose. A year after, mom gave away the things he had painstakingly collected and treasured to people who would love them as he did. Two years later she redecorated the house- it was about then I realized I couldn’t remember the timbre of his voice anymore.
We were exactly the same height. Though sometimes pa would wake up and declare- ‘I feel TALL today!’ and I would fight with him until my mother intervened, measured, and assured me that we were still even. Explaining it wasn’t about that- rather just his continual silliness, was pointless. I used to become so frustrated with him.
And never was I more frustrated than when I would bring someone new to our house. See- my father had a test for the potential boyfriends. Well it wasn’t really a test- more of a way for them to demonstrate their mettle. I guess it didn’t matter to my father where you were in your life or what you were currently doing for a living- what concerned him was if you could... hold your own?
Most of the time, he would somehow manage to send me off on some errand- effectively leaving the suitor without a lifeline. Settling them in with his guileless brown eyes and infectious smile, their comfort was his only concern. They would relax. In all seriousness, my father would ask them if they wanted to hear his favorite joke. Why sure Mr. Rainwater (all politeness and solicitude). My father’s favorite joke is a tacky, racist, horrible one that makes me cringe every time I hear it. I will give you the punch line- you will probably be (oops) offended:
‘Oh no,’ the old chief said- ‘that’s not *Sasquatch*! That’s squaw snatch.’
( :O *silence*)
My father would then sit back with a smile and wait. The one time I saw the test administered, I saw a serious curiosity in my dad’s eyes though. He was waiting to see how they’d react. I don’t know if he had a desired reaction or if he was open to surprise- but I do know he was always sadly disappointed with their responses. He never said anything negative to me and it was never malicious... but none of them ever lasted much longer after that.
I feel bad that my dad has me to remember him. Who wants to be remembered through superficial snapshots and tasteless jokes? I’ve always said many people knew my father much better than I did. But you know what? Maybe they *didn’t*. It’s always been a secret hope of mine that perhaps I’m more like my father than I think. When he was alive, I was always skeptical cynic to his goofy stories...
A while after he had passed, I found myself in the company of two of my nephews. Their wide-eyed innocent and rapt expressions alerted me to the fact that somehow, without knowing how I got there- I was halfway through one of my father’s tales about the dreaded Snow Snakes.
“Wow! Grandpa was awful brave, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed”
*here I swallow hard and make a decision*
“...did Grandpa ever tell you about the time he got stuck up in a tree for 2 days because a bear was chasing him?”
“Whoa! No! He did!?”
“Yeah- he did.
It was 40below zero and the stinging sideways snowstorm made Grandpa lose his way in the forest. Luckily for him, though at the time he had no way of knowing- he was armed with not only his amazing sense of adventure but also his planned lunch of tuna fish and saltines...”
I can’t believe it’s been 5 years. And I still cry when I write and think of these things. And I still laugh when I write and think of these things.
<3
When he was 60 years old he was diagnosed with renal cancer. After a heartbreakingly rapid and painful struggle, he died. Cancer fights dirty. It’s been 5 years. It’s been 5 years.
You never stop saying goodbye- it’s a continual process. I don’t know if this is better or worse. A few months after he died, my niece broke the dollhouse he had built for me when I was little. I had to struggle to recall the exact shape of his nose. A year after, mom gave away the things he had painstakingly collected and treasured to people who would love them as he did. Two years later she redecorated the house- it was about then I realized I couldn’t remember the timbre of his voice anymore.
We were exactly the same height. Though sometimes pa would wake up and declare- ‘I feel TALL today!’ and I would fight with him until my mother intervened, measured, and assured me that we were still even. Explaining it wasn’t about that- rather just his continual silliness, was pointless. I used to become so frustrated with him.
And never was I more frustrated than when I would bring someone new to our house. See- my father had a test for the potential boyfriends. Well it wasn’t really a test- more of a way for them to demonstrate their mettle. I guess it didn’t matter to my father where you were in your life or what you were currently doing for a living- what concerned him was if you could... hold your own?
Most of the time, he would somehow manage to send me off on some errand- effectively leaving the suitor without a lifeline. Settling them in with his guileless brown eyes and infectious smile, their comfort was his only concern. They would relax. In all seriousness, my father would ask them if they wanted to hear his favorite joke. Why sure Mr. Rainwater (all politeness and solicitude). My father’s favorite joke is a tacky, racist, horrible one that makes me cringe every time I hear it. I will give you the punch line- you will probably be (oops) offended:
‘Oh no,’ the old chief said- ‘that’s not *Sasquatch*! That’s squaw snatch.’
( :O *silence*)
My father would then sit back with a smile and wait. The one time I saw the test administered, I saw a serious curiosity in my dad’s eyes though. He was waiting to see how they’d react. I don’t know if he had a desired reaction or if he was open to surprise- but I do know he was always sadly disappointed with their responses. He never said anything negative to me and it was never malicious... but none of them ever lasted much longer after that.
I feel bad that my dad has me to remember him. Who wants to be remembered through superficial snapshots and tasteless jokes? I’ve always said many people knew my father much better than I did. But you know what? Maybe they *didn’t*. It’s always been a secret hope of mine that perhaps I’m more like my father than I think. When he was alive, I was always skeptical cynic to his goofy stories...
A while after he had passed, I found myself in the company of two of my nephews. Their wide-eyed innocent and rapt expressions alerted me to the fact that somehow, without knowing how I got there- I was halfway through one of my father’s tales about the dreaded Snow Snakes.
“Wow! Grandpa was awful brave, wasn’t he?”
“He was indeed”
*here I swallow hard and make a decision*
“...did Grandpa ever tell you about the time he got stuck up in a tree for 2 days because a bear was chasing him?”
“Whoa! No! He did!?”
“Yeah- he did.
It was 40below zero and the stinging sideways snowstorm made Grandpa lose his way in the forest. Luckily for him, though at the time he had no way of knowing- he was armed with not only his amazing sense of adventure but also his planned lunch of tuna fish and saltines...”
I can’t believe it’s been 5 years. And I still cry when I write and think of these things. And I still laugh when I write and think of these things.
<3
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