NO LATER than 10am

Not totally my fault as Dan wanted to go out for breakfast. Also I thought it would be a good idea to wait until this morning to "finish" packing. So far moderately pleasant moods prevail for both husband and wife. Stay tuned...

Where I'll be in three days...

You know I'll recreate this picture if I can.

Shit, you guys. I promised myself I would put something up here in the handful of days I had between getting back from Texas (Tuesday) and leaving for vacation with Dan (tomorrow) but my handful got diminished due to travel complications and now I am just so pressed for time with preparing for my next vacation so closely on the heels of my last one, that it's going to have to be a quickie. And while I'm complaining about things that someone should just slap me for, I need to whine for a minute about the fact that it's raining out and I just got a spray tan this morning and I have to do laundry which means going in and out to the laundry room at the back of our building in the rain and possibly doing damage to my painted-on tan. I know there are bigger problems in the world, but today that's mine. (P.S. You should see how tan I look...very scary. Very Lindsay Lohan.)

I started writing all about my fantastic trip to Austin and the wonderful visit with my very dear friend, Jarvino (Spewname), but all of a sudden there's more packing to do than there is time so I will have to postpone the Texas recap. Plus, I just got an e-mail from Dan saying that he wants to be out of here "NO LATER than 10am" tomorrow and he even got all yelly and capital-y like that, so I have to get moving. (But I must say this: Austin was awesome and my Jarvino gave me a week of love and friendship that I so needed and will never forget.)

I also wanted to be sure I got on here to say hey y'all. Miss ya like crazy and this is all shaping up to be one hell of a "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" essay for when I get back.

The itinerary for this next week is a scattered one. It starts with us taking off (by car) for Pittsburgh tomorrow to meet up with some of Dan's family and take in a baseball game (Sox at Pittsburgh---luxury box---holla!) on Sunday. From there we will heading for five days of bliss at a hotel and spa in The Poconos. Dan and I have both been struggling with admitting we're going to a spa in the Poconos because just saying it makes us feel like Dan has a drinking problem and a penchant for nannies and I occasionally ask Carlos, our gardener who's secretly in love with our daughter Muffie, his opinion of vaginal reconstructive surgery while striking a provocative position involving a Pottery Barn kitchen stool. That said, I am very excited for this trip and very grateful to Dan who planned the whole thing because he felt like this was the kind of vacation the year called for. I currently have two massages, a facial, and a "Lotus Cleansing" ---which Dan keeps referring to using his most airy, Zen, smelly Earth Child voice---on the books for our stay. I know how bratty that sounds and I know how fortunate I am (so I'll shut up about the rain and my spray tan). The resort restaurant is called Tree, for fuck's sake. Tree. Not The Tree. Not even Food Tree (which would be a terrible name). Just Tree. I might never wear underwear again after this, that's all I'm saying. Then on Friday we are headed into NYC to see The Book of Mormon and The Normal Heart both of which I am just so fucking psyched for that the words "so fucking psyched" are really the only ones that fit. Actually, the Poconos trip was born from the fact that we knew we'd be in Pittsburgh on Sunday and New York on Friday, so we were looking for a place that made sense geographically to head to in between. Pretty sure seeing The Book of Mormon, a musical which takes on organized religion, and The Normal Heart, a play which takes on the AIDS crisis in NYC in the 80's, restores my street cred after the whole spa in the Poconos thing. ('Cause, you know, street cred and Broadway go hand in hand.)

Doesn't that sound like a fan-fucking-tastic vacation? I mean, how lucky am I? Believe me, I get a little verclempt even now thinking of how grateful I am to have had the week I just did with Jarvino and now this week coming up with my Danny. And I could cry especially because I know how excited my mom would be for me. I'm trying to really appreciate the richness of each moment and every adventure for her. Towards the end she talked so much to me about all the things she would do if her body would let her so I have a real sense of taking things in on her behalf, particularly travel and exploration. But I'll have to work to stay present...which means getting some stuff done before I go so that I'm not thinking of it during the trip...which means I must be running along now.

If Dan and I have sack enough to steal someone's garden gnome on our road trip, I'll be sure to take and post pictures. Happy summer Spewheads! (Spewers? Spewites? Spewdents? Spewpils? Spewps?) Hope you're getting your lotus cleansed too!

Love,
Lindsay

Creepy, right? (It fades with the first shower.)

To Oprah Be the Glory

Did I miss the Oprah boat? It’s been over a week, can I really start reviewing my favorite quotes from the show? (You know, the ones I copied down when I watched the episode a second time?) One of the tough things about a blog, at least mine, is that the idea is that it’s happening in real time. So, there’s not a lot of room for rewrites, editing, three-day ADD benders, if I want to deliver something here that’s timely. I know there’s probably more flexibility here than I give myself, but it's not like I spent the last few days polishing an Oprah essay anyway (an Opressay?), so there's no brilliant piece of writing that’ll just have to be tucked back in the drawer with my Charlie Sheen tribute blogs. Nah, even if months had passed I’d post a good Oprah entry if I had one and just tie it somehow to the present moment. This reminds me of a kid I went to high school with who once made a cardboard poster on El Nino for one of his classes and then somehow managed to use this exact poster to fulfill project/presentation requirements for several other classes. I had anthropology with him and I can remember the whole class laughing as he whipped out the by then infamous poster to explain how weather patterns affected evolution. I love a smart kid.

My point? If I had managed to craft my Oprah thoughts into a beautiful El Nino poster, I’d hang it here proudly. But for now it’s just a bunch of cut-out words from magazines that have yet to be strung together. This timeliness issue has held me back before. I once had an obituary started for my sister’s cat who, unless the entire body excluding its tail and hind legs are hiding out on a beach somewhere in Mexico, we can presume was killed by a coyote (pronounced ky-yote) last fall. But more than a week passed before I was able to get back to the piece so I let it go, as if you guys would be all, “Oh my gawd, Sassy, can you believe she waited ten days to blog about Becky’s dead cat---OLD NEWS!” This isn’t US Weekly...nobody’s scooping me on the inane stories of my own life.

I’m going to try to stop being such a perfectionist and just get what I want up here when I can. And I still want to talk about Oprah...so there.


 Did you watch? I have it Tivoed if you want to come over for a viewing. It was the most moving moment of television I’ve ever seen, including the SNL debut of “Dick in a Box.” Oprah’s last (network) gift was to encourage and inspire us to find our calling, “to figure out what that is and get about the business of doing it.” Part college lecture, part sermon, part chat with your most insightful friend, My Oprah implored us to believe ourselves worthy of as purposeful, satisfying, and divinely touched a life as hers; that it is our right, our charge, to follow our instincts to the blessings that are meant for us. I dig this message. Really, I dig everything she was saying.

“My great wish for all of you who have allowed me to honor my calling through this show is that you carry whatever you’re supposed to be doing, carry that forward and don’t waste any more time. Start embracing the life that is calling you and use your life to serve the world.”

I’m sure each person watching was taking in these words and digesting them as nourishment for his/her own specific dreams and goals and I am no exception. For me, this was, of course, all about writing. While I’m not sure I’m serving the world by writing about the perils of gym locker nudity, it’s the life that is and always has been calling me. But though I’ve been writing pretty consistently outside of this blog, I was struggling to show up here for a few different reasons. And I want to just get them out there so you know what’s up.

First of all, my mom died. Sometimes that just puts me on my ass.

Second, I’m working on a few things that have me sidetracked. One of the things my mom suggested I do to get through losing her was to write my way through the grief. So much went on in the last year that I couldn’t write about at the time, and I’m trying to get as much of it down now as I can before I forget. I don’t ever want to forget the fullness of the year I had with my mom before she died, the laughs in the waiting rooms, the ice cream cones after chemo. But it’s often extremely difficult and draining work. Sometimes I just weep over my laptop while I’m writing and that actually feels okay because my mom is worth my tears. She’s worthy of great depths of grief and I rather be sad thinking about her than not think of her at all. But it takes all I’ve got to do this writing and on those days I just haven’t the energy or the ability to switch gears into blog mode. Sometimes it breaks me down for a few days at a time. I hope you feel me on this.

I also have a deadline looming so closely that lately Dan has been going to sleep each night to the sound of the steady sawing of my finger nails across my skin as I scratch at my hives. Do you remember when I was lobbying for sponsorship money for a writing retreat in Guatemala? Well, this year Joyce Maynard (scroll down past the initial rambling for the article) is running this writing retreat on an island a few miles off the coast of New Hampshire (of all places!). I found this out shortly after my mom died and I just knew the universe wanted me to go. While the trip isn’t until early August, I have to submit a 2,500-word “excerpt from my manuscript” (manu-what now?) or free-standing piece by July 6th that I will want to workshop with the 20 other writers who will be attending. Gulp. 2,500 words? Not a problem. I churn out over 2,500 words of pointless drivel every day. Something I want to share with others, never mind Joyce Maynard? That’s a big, big problem. Huge. Gi-fucking-gantic. I don’t think the idea of the retreat is to ask a bunch of strangers to help me to improve my musings on all my crazy, gun-toting, finger-tease neighbors. And, of course, even though I’ve had all year to come up with something, I have left the task for the last minute and June is shaping up to be a busy one. I’ll be away for two of the four weeks and my sister is coming in from Memphis for a week, so it’s not exactly ideal nose to the grindstone circumstances. I really have no idea how this is going to turn out so stay tuned. But I have to focus on getting this thing done (maybe if it’s something I’m even remotely pleased with I’ll post it here) so that’s where I’m going to be for the next few weeks. I just wanted to keep you guys posted on why I haven’t been around and also why consistent Spew is still out of my reach.

And then there’s this: Sometimes I feel like I’ve met my downer-post quota around these parts, and last month (pre-sun and Harry Potter) was a rough one that could have only made for dark entries. Though, My Oprah had me thinking twice about even this.

“I understand the manifestation of grace and God so I know that there are no coincidences. There are none. Only divine order here.”

I’ve struggled so much in the last year with how to write about all that’s happened. Where is my line with what I can comfortably share? Where is your line with what you want to read and ingest? What about my family members' lines? Of all of it---my mom’s illness, losing her, the dying I’ve done since---this part, the what does everyone else want from me of things (and what is it I want from or for myself), has been the most grueling despite my knowledge that much of it is self-inflicted. But maybe these are the exact questions with which I’m supposed to be grappling. Maybe it’s no coincidence that I started a blog and my mom got sick and we lost her and then three months later my dad was diagnosed. Maybe it’s no coincidence that just as I started documenting my thoughts and life in a more public way, I experienced the biggest derailment I’ve ever known. Maybe this is exactly what I’m supposed to be writing about and maybe these should I’s or shouldn’t I’s are the questions I have to work through before moving on to the next phase of things. Friggin’ Oprah! Giiiirl, what am I going to do without you?

So, though I’ve thought about it many times, I’m not quitting yet. Two years and counting. (I’ve been so distracted that I missed The Spew’s second birthday! This might be reason 357 why Dan and I can’t be parents yet. I can just hear myself saying, “But we celebrated your birthday laaaaast year, Little Sally. Surely you didn’t expect this to be a thing.”) I hope to be here more often than not, but I figured I would let you know where I’ve been and where I’m going in case I’m out of touch for a bit.

Oprah never missed a day of work in 25 years. Huh. I’m not expecting that kind of attendance record for myself (it’s not like Oprah had anything else going on anyway) but the point of this, which I took very seriously, was how much she valued her viewers.

“But I showed up because I knew that you were waiting...You were waiting for whatever we had to offer.”

I value you guys too. I don’t take it for granted that you come here and read this angsty mess, which is why I always feel so bad when I drop out for a while. You guys always seem to get it though, and I want you to know I appreciate that, too. Oprah talked about how her viewers have been a “safe harbor” for her all these years. “Strange, I know, but you have been,” she said. And it didn’t seem strange at all to me. While this isn’t Her show and I’m certainly not Oprah, I’ve found you all to be very much a “safe harbor” during this grinding storm and I certainly never anticipated that when I started this thing. You guys have been here all along listening, offering support, and passing no judgement for all the “fucks” that seem to get sprinkled in more frequently with each passing day. Some of you wrote with your own stories, some of you sent poems. Some of you cracked me up and some of you said, stay strong. Some of you are related to me, some of you I’ve never met. Some of you knew my mom and found your way here through her, some of you know me well, whether or not we've ever spoken. And if you know me, then you know it’s much easier for me to write all this than speak it and I am forever grateful for your ear, your time and your words of encouragement.

I can’t yet know what role this blog will have played in all that’s happened in this last year and all that is still happening, but I know that in the story of my life you will always be tied very closely to my version of the story of losing my mom. And I appreciate all of you far more than I can say and far more than my absences indicate. And I promise, I swear on the soul of The Spew, that if I ever get to the point in my career where such a thing is possible: Lor, you get a car! Margaret, you get a car! Straight-up Stranger, you get a car! Sassy, you get a car! BFIFM, you get a car! Nancy M. (should we hold a contest to come up with a fun nickname for you?), you get a car! Ame, Jen, Beth the Anonymous, and Melissa (who I know reads but inboxes her sweet comments), you get a car! EllieB, you get a car! Mattie, you get a car (or you’re buying me one)! Benny, Big Chirl, and Katjak, you get a car! (T-Roxx will earn one when she starts to read/comment.) Talk2mrsh, you get a car! Second grade teacher but not mine, you get a car! Mart, you get a car! Those of you who follow along silently or post every now and then or wrote me on Facebook to say you actually read this thing, you get a car!

Everybody gets a car!

And in conclusion, that is why I believe El Nino is Oprah’s son. The End.