the wine was good...

...the conversation, not so much. "my story" was interrupted for talk of an incompetent cleaning lady.
here's the thing about "my story". a minor detail. first of all, it is mine. second of all, it is not just a story, it is my life, my unique human experience that is irreversible and continual. it wasn't something that "happened" on august 27, 29, october 3, or during hurricane ivan. it is day-in, day-out, irretrievable loss that no amount of small talk, ikea furniture, or friendship can replace.
it is feeling orphaned and angry and disconnected. it is knowledge of having true wealth in life (a loving family) and watching it disintegrate and scatter. it's a tapestry lovingly woven and treasured over generations falling in bits between my fingers, which no amount of caution of care can prevent.
yesterday was a very sad day for me that took me by surprise. i felt as though a loved one had died, i couldn't go to the funeral, and no one really wanted to talk about it. i wish i could recap with my mom and try to make sense of it all, but she's dead, and the sibs weren't talking. dad tried. we love eachother, and i don't want to burden him with my grief; he's got his own.
so this is life, never knowing what is around the bend, or being able to hold on to precious things, no matter how much you appreciate them.
i did find some joy in hanging clothes on the line, and my own family and friends keep me loving and smiling, thank God. just every now and then i grapple with this indignation.

i'm not all here...

i'm on the porch
and in the garden
standing in the kitchen
and sitting on the patio
walking up the beach
in the twilight
and down the tracks
in the rain
sifting through the rubble
staring in disbelief
basking in the sunshine
and shivering with the breeze
looking at your stupid
unfamiliar coffin
and hugging your soft
and bony shoulders
kissing your peachy cheek goodnight
and stuck on repeat


i'm definitely not all here.

mimi & John

John Denver. That's right. It is love. It all started a couple of weeks ago. She was weeping in the dark listening to Country Roads.
"I don't like here! It's not beautiful! I don't like my new things. I want my old things. New Orleans is more beautiful."

She was probably recalling one of our many family dance parties in our old house in New Orleans. She is finally starting to process a little. I have given up telling her all of the good reasons for us to be here. I tell her, "I know, it's too much change, too much for a little kid to have to deal with. Sometimes I don't like it either."

But at least she has John. He understands. He comforts her with visions of mountains, rivers, peace, and love. I think she knows at least 70% of the lyrics on the entire album. She sings along with great emotion and fervor. Even though she doen't know of her existence, as far as she is concerned, she is Annie. These songs are for her.

John makes me cry too. My Mom wasn't his biggest fan, but I can still remember her wailing along to Sunshine on My Shoulder with gusto. It is nostalgic in its essence. "If I had a day that I could give you..."


"Sometimes, Mom," Mimi says, "I pretend he is singing all of these words to me, like he is right here in my room with me. He is in my heart."

I walked in on her sitting at her table fashioning a rainbow just for him out of play-doh. He was sitting next to her, watching. (She had placed his CD booklet on a chair next to hers.) She has the two disc greatest hits album, the jacket is full of pics, and Mimi can tell you her favorites in order from most to least.

I try not to let the intensity of this first crush disturb me much. But it seems to be pretty serious.

Tasty nugget/morsel of life

scene: unpacking

Y: why is life so sad?
J: Life?
Y: how come my mom's gone but i get to keep the sugar bowl?
J: sugar bowls don't go to heaven.

Ranty Ranty Rant Rant

the main reason i have convinced myself to write is to get the damn hamster off the wheel in my head before i go batty. the other one is because i want to give janine a laugh. raise your cider. "here's to two kids, incomplete thoughts, and an overdependence on friends for adult conversation."
the main reason i haven't written, well, there's more than one:
who's reading it
am i just trying to be cool?
what might come out
i annoy myself and i am annoyed also by others

but i digress. haha. this entry will make no sense.
all of my grief is hiding at the top of my spine, base of my head, the underneaths of my shoulder blades and occassionally in my various arm joints. i would get a massage but i hear they can make you cry and i don't want to cry while some stranger rubs on me.
i miss my peops and all that was or all that i was deluded by. i miss working and the stupid comraderie that hovered around the meat and cheese slicers, having a place to go to or a reason to put on real clothes and maybe even lipstick. i miss having my fingers on the pulse of a slice of culture that was real and not stupid-cyber.
in other news, i dearly love and am deeply devoted to my husband and kids. one is now crying. i must go.

stale & fresh

sorry, my blog is so stale that it took me about 5 attempts just to sign in. i had forgotten my password.
on a fresher note, i am freshly thirty today! We are taking a little reprieve from everyday life, vacationing in beautiful sunny south florida, compliments of my incredibly generous and kind in-laws.
i can't tell you how exhilirating it was to step out of the airport and breathe saltwater air. i didn't know i had missed it; such a subtle yet bold reminder of the sense of place i miss in life. i was telling them i haven't really had an excuse to go to florida (and definitely not to take a vacation) in a couple of years which is strangely unheard of, as i have had all of my roots there or resided there all of my life. i want to visit pcola sometime when i am sure it will be green again.

i have to say that i have been touched by the kind sentiments that have been sent my way on the occasion of my birthday. i don't know if people know how hard it is for the day to pass without a call from my mom, or if i am just that remarkable to my loved ones, but it has been really comforting and (i hate this word) touching to be thought of and honored by all of the wonderful people in my life. if you know me, you know i am not a real socialite, but i am really wealthy in the quantity and quality of loving relationships in my life.
am i having a hallmark moment?
love from green grass and sunny breezy watery days in florida,
yvonne

rent

here in the land of taco stands and trucks, i feel poor, even though i have far more than what i need or want. (except a little more square footage) why you ask? because i am a renter, and i am learning that unless you are a particularly foolish or flush renter, you take what society dishes out, in the form of 4'x4' "bedrooms", kitchens with no cabinets, peel and stick tile, or whatever was on sale at home depot.
its an assault on my snotty little senses. just because you want to do something on the cheap doesn't mean it has to look cheap or function cheaply. but i guess people don't want to devote the time or energy to make things liveable for renters. it's one thing if it is an extended stay hotel or something, when you know it doesn't have to last forever. but what if it is where you and your family want to be for a couple years while you save to buy a house? do you want your kids toys and some furniture in her "bedroom" but her bed in the closet? two convenient doors that open directly from outside into the master or kids bedroom? i've been looking since october and still no luck. i know many people have much more to complain about but 4 people to a one bedroom apartment is tired. and i am also tired of looking.
it was really my favorite today when my current landlord told us that they leased out the 2 bedroom we have been waiting on since september to someone else. i am past the point of crying, even though i think it would make me feel much better. over the course of the past few months i am really starting to develop a persecution 'plex.

julia to the world=joy to the world

sick julia...
the little marshmallows
on the tops of her fat baby paws
are melting away.
and her didie is oh too easy
to wrap around her little tum.
never you fear
she's smiling again.
soon she will pack on the pounds.