We tried to take you with us.

What a view! That restaurant had wings!



My luggage: The small purse within the bigger purse is a patented Gigi Mellow move that I felt proud to find myself employing throughout the trip.



On the first night of our road trip the hotel screwed up and gave us double beds instead of a king, so Dan said we had to play Rob and Laura Petrie for the night. (Which I totally dug because having a bed to myself is one of the biggest things I miss about being single. That and bukkake.)

You know when you’re playing phone tag with a friend for several months and by the time you finally get her on the phone, so much has gone down that you don’t even really know where to begin in catching her up? That’s kind of what I’m feeling right now. My usual technique in that situation---especially if the missed content is especially complicated, like an ailing parent or two---I’m inclined to gloss over things or deftly deflect if don’t feel like working that hard. That’s sort of where I am right now. So, rather than simply saying, “Vacation was great but how are you?” I’ll offer a bullet-point glance of things.

• I went to Austin and the city and my dear friend, Jarvino, rocked and rejuvenated my soul.
• I went to Pittsburgh, the Poconos and NYC and all I got you was this lousy blog entry.
• It was also soul-rocking and rejuvenating in that unique way that cranial massages followed by Broadway shows can be.
• Dan will be in charge of planning all vacations for the rest of our lives.
• I finished my submission for the writing workshop I’m attending in August and am now able to once again inhale and exhale to fruition.
• There’s an inexplicable onslaught of flies in my apartment and I don’t know why and it’s freaking me the fuck out.
• I am having an upper endoscopy and biopsy on Monday to check for celiac disease. (I filled out my pre-op forms and specifically mentioned that I woke up during my colonoscopy so they know to put this bitch out good this time.)
• I’ve had to eat a surplus of gluten in preparation for this test, which put 10 pounds on my ass and made me feel so ill and cranky that I picked 17.5 fights with Dan on our vacation
• The half-fight took place in my head.
• Dan still heard it.
• I’ve decided to return to a gluten-free lifestyle no matter what the test says.
• But first I’m gonna eat a spaghetti-stuffed burrito as a last hurrah.
• My dad’s MRI came back clean which means any cancer left in his brain is microscopic at this point. This is what we had expected since the mass was removed during surgery but he has started chemo to keep it at bay for as long as he can.
• My Spoffice is kind of a mess again.
• I miss my mom.
• Just a whole helluva lot.
• I wish I could show up at her house with sandwiches and we could have lunch together.
• I’m playing with the idea of taking classes at UNH.
• I’m playing with the idea of attending the four-day Harry Potter movie marathon which is playing at select theaters leading up to the release of the final film (even more than I’m thinking of going to school).
• I’m drunk right now.
• Not really, but we have this beer that tastes like Fruity Pebbles and I kind of want to have it for breakfast.
• I went mini golfing with Bec and her family last night despite a pretty firm stance of opposition to the entire sport (can we really call that a sport?), and though fun was had, I still believe it should be abolished.
• I think that about covers it.
• But at least we’re back in the game here.
• How are you?

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.

The Real Love of My Life

I am sitting at my desk trying, trying, trying to put a cohesive sentence (paragraph/entry) together to no avail. It is just too damn nice out and I can't concentrate. I had forgotten this feeling. I'm in high school all over again, working to finish my 11th grade research paper so that I can pass English (of all fucking subjects) and make it to 12th grade. This was the best red pen moment of my entire school career. First of all, the paper was on the "hidden" drug references of Alice In Wonderland which gives you a little insight into what my interests were at the time and why I was struggling so hard with deadlines. And because I turned it in on the last possible day that I could for any credit, all I could earn was an F which indeed was plopped right at the top of the page with a note that it was "potentially an excellent paper..." Not too many F's come with that accompanying sentiment. The best part is that my Mattie, who is a year younger than I (which explains why I'm so much mature) turned it in for his 11th grade research paper the following year since he had a different teacher...and got a C! Considering the project was supposed to have taken most of the latter half of the school year to complete and I gave it maybe two weeks (and that's a big maybe) worth of effort, I stand by that C. And so does Mattie. (By the way, I just checked to see if I still have that paper---I do, which explains why the Spoffice is what it is--- and 16-year-old Mattie had crossed out the F and written in an A+ "3D's such dedication, determination, and desire. That's friendship.)

It's moments like this, when I can share a 13-year-old memory with someone else who remembers it, that I am so grateful for our enduring friendship. (I just texted him to see if I could tell the story of the 11th grade research paper and he wrote back, "Of course you can...The truth will set me free!!!") The opportunity to see Harry Potter in the flesh is another perk of our love. The video above was shot last Friday at the Drama League Award in New York City. Mattie, the world's next great host, who will eventually push "Seacrest Out," flew in from L.A. to work the red carpet before the award ceremony and asked me if I'd come down to serve as videographer since it was a last-minute thing. Having never videoed anything besides the occasional sex tape before, I was terrified that I would ruin the whole deal but it ended up being a fantastic time and another fabu memory to add to our treasure chest. (And Mattie, fuh real, I apologize for going so heavy on the zoom button. I don't know what was going on there. I'll do better next time, I swear!) The whole event was incredibly interesting and it was just one of those days I would have never planned on living. The red carpet scene is so fast and intense (the other cameramen and hosts were only inches away from us...and those bitches kept hitting into my tripod) and while I was sweating it out, Mattie just worked it and was so at home with all the pretty people. He had thoroughly researched each nominee so that he was familiar with all of their stage work and could just talk so easily to them. My boy's a professional and I'm feeling mighty proud of him. He just launched his new website www.matthewrodrigues.com and I encourage you all to get to know him now so that he can get you seats at Idol 2012...and at the Oscars in 2013.

So while today I was planning to write and post something very deep and profound and important about our last hour with Oprah and how she got me blogging again, my ADD is winning the battle and instead I am paying tribute to the guy who presided over my wedding in 2007 and with whom I shared a "fake" make-out session on stage during the school musical in 1998. We've come a long way since Alice in Wonderland, my friend. Thank God we finally grew up...

Oprah's Farewell

Gig and I watched together...

As I was laying on the ground trying to take this picture I had to say out loud, "Oh, Mom, I know you're laughing your ass of right now watching me do this." (The tulips in the background? Dan brings 'em home every week since they were Gig's faves...good man.) (The mountain of crap on the table? That's all me.)

I think Oprah may have inspired me to return to this blog. Long-winded explanation of my absence coming soon. (And if not, then there will be a long-winded explanation of the absence of the aforementioned long-winded explanation coming less soon...)

Happy Mother's Day