And I'm on the board!

I just love this picture too much to take it down. Unless something else fun comes to me, it may stay up all month.

Thanks to Mattie's parents---who are always my first card of the season (holla atcha Pat and Henry!)---we have ourselves a tie game.

Dan: 1

Lola: 1

I fear that this contest is going to expose how few holiday cards Dan and I get compared to the rest of you.

Oh well. When baby Solomon is born someday, we'll up our game.

Dan feels very threatened by this competition. He told me that I am mistaken and that I win The Battle Of The Christmas Cards (title pending) every year due to my large extended family. While it's true that my family would beat his family in a tug of war, he has more adult-y friends with kids and everyone knows that it's the child population that brings the numbers up. Also, he has consistently sent out Christmas cards for like 15 years (have I mentioned he's waaaaaaay older than I am?) where as I have been, well, less consistent, so that works for him too. I used to send handwritten cards to the people with whom I wanted to connect around the holidays (like both sides, long-ass letter kind of cards) but eventually e-mailing throughout the year made more sense. Not so romantic, I know, but fuck, I got 'em out. It's family lore---and I think it really happened---that my mom once sent her Christmas cards out right before Easter. Love that lady. The fact that she still sent them...just love her.

Regardless of Dan's excuse-making and boot-shaking--- it's game on! (He tells me he has some tricks up his sleeve too.)

I also want to declare publicly---because I've held this secret in for far too long---that Dan writes and addresses and mails all of our Christmas cards. I choose to no longer be ashamed. He's just better at it and just generally more responsible and efficient than I am. For years and years (starting long before he met me) he's been writing these wonderfully funny Christmas poems that he sends out to all his loved ones (and now mine) and it's gotten to the point that people hold on to them and look forward to getting them each year. He's just so adorable...

...and also so much better than me on so many levels...

...which is why I really need to kick his ass in this contest!

If you send me a card, I promise I'll send you one in return! Er, Dan will. (And not to ruin his fun, but just wait 'til you see what he's come up with this year.) (At some point I'll post it just so those of you who don't want to send me a card---Jerkfaces!---can see.)

Scenes From a Mall Santa

This really happened---a (half) family Santa shot in the middle of the day at the bleakest of malls---and it was glorious. Not pictured: Shiloh, Pax, Vivienne, Maddox, Knox and Zahara. (Also, Cherie who was not in love with this picture of herself.)

It's a little heavy in these parts these days so let’s just have a little levity, shall we?

Some holiday thoughts and observations:

--- I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is in essence a romantic duet which recounts the tale of a cozy, fireside date rape.

--- I would like to marry or closely befriend an employee of Le Creuset. I bet that the family members of these people probably get whole sets of this cast iron cookware of the Gods for Christmas and I want in. I just know in my heart that I would be a better cook if I only owned a red, porcelain-finished Dutch oven.

--- I gave a go to holiday shopping the other day---I was getting new tires put on Dan’s car (Who’s a good wife? I am.) and had no choice but to mill about a shopping plaza while I waited. While it turned out to be a win for the economy (and a lose for our bank account), I grew so weary that at one point I parked myself on one of the leather couches in the Best Buy entertainment section and donned a pair of 3D glasses just to get a break. December 3rd prediction---not a chance in North Pole hell that I will make it through holiday bustle with any measure of efficiency or grace.

--- On the aforementioned shopping trip I overheard an older (though not elderly) woman telling her similarly aged friend that she wanted to go to “that store, you know that store over there…you know that store to get that movie.” (The store was Best Buy.)

To which her friend answered, “You mean Jordan Marsh?”

Huh.

“Yeah,” the first woman said. “I wanna get that move, you know that movie…that movie that was on HBO but first it was a movie.”

Quickly surmising that it was not likely that the two were going to come up with the name of the movie if they were of the mindset that they would be doing their Christmas shopping at Jordan Marsh (probably after hitting up the Woolworth's counter) I told them I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation and offered my help.

“Okay,” the first woman said, readying, I thought, to give me a short description of the film. And with all the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old during a guessing game she said, “It’s a movie I would like,” and then referring to her friend, “but she wouldn’t.”

Huh.

The first woman continued, “The people are in another world...you know they showed it on HBO...and they can’t breathe.”

And the second woman, who was clearly more of a cinephile than I gave her credit for, said, “That sounds like Avatar.”

“Yeah,” said the first. “And they speak another language.”

“That sounds likes Avatar,” the second woman said again. “Are the people blue?”

“YES! They’re blue! And it was on TV…”

“It’s Avatar,” the second woman said again.

“YES!” the first woman exclaimed. And then she added, “Now if only we could come up with the name of it.”

I was mostly silent for the whole exchange. I have never seen Avatar and I also felt like someone was playing a trick on me.

--- We got our first Christmas card the other day and it was from a friend of Dan’s prompting him to exclaim, “I’m in the lead!” This has become our yearly contest---who gets more Christmas cards. (We have mostly separate friend-sets so it’s easy to keep score.) I often lose. In the past, I’ve attributed this to my being waaaaay younger than him. “My friends are too busy with raves and hallucinogens!” I’d say. But this doesn’t hold much weight now that I’ve hit 30, so I’m using my online resources to wage war. I guess what I’m saying is, send me a holiday card! (For mailing info please contact my publicist, Becky Breslin...or me via Facebook or e-mail.) If the numbers aren’t too dismal, I’ll give you an update on the score as the season progresses. Currently it is Dan: 1 Lola: 0. Help the needy, would you?

And with that I bid you adieu. I hope to return to you soon but I have been experiencing more ups and downs these days than a bipolar elevator, so one never knows.

Happy Holidays, my friends. And if any of you work customer service at Le Creuset…let’s do lunch.

I love my nephew.

And also I can feel my mom starting to get pissed about me posting that last photo, so I needed to get something else up. (She thought it wrong to even take a picture of someone wearing oxygen.) Because I can't seem to words together put nicely, my cute little Benny Boy will have to do for the moment.

Also, here is a link to a great post on my friend Amy's blog. Amy is a fairy of a human being.

Stay tuned: Depressing blog post of the year coming soon! Starring Brain Cancer, My Dad and Sally Field! Get the hankies!

Happy Thanksgiving, all you loves.

It was a Good Night, Mama.

My mom would be sooo pissed that I am posting this picture. But I LOVE it! And would do anything to have her hand on my face right now. So, if you want me to take it down, Ma, you better show yourself to me somehow and say so! Otherwise, it's staying! You hear me, Gigi!

A year ago today I spent the last day I ever would with my mom. Having been up since 3am that morning---we had tea and split an English muffin in the middle of the night; our final tea party---we talked about how we wanted to nap the day away together. She’d stay on her couch, which she barely moved from in those last days, and I would take the hospital bed, she said. But things happened---a few visitors came, I had to try two different pharmacies and fight construction traffic to pick up a refill of liquid morphine, and relatively unremarkable hours of the day passed us by. By then I had the morphine administering down. Its conversion from grams to ounces, its equivalent dose in Oxycontin. I would fill the dropper, sometimes twice, and if it was a good day, my mom would get relief. This was not her worst day. Had it been, there would have been no visitors---even daughters---welcome.

There was no reason to suspect it was the last day of her life. Except for maybe every reason. We all thought we had longer. We were waiting for the stuff of comas and catheters and while I'm so grateful it didn’t get to that, those were the markers we were waiting for. Because they never came, we were all shocked.

It’s still light out so I haven’t died yet today. When it gets dark lately, I die a little and cry on my couch and wish I could just be asleep and unfeeling. I downloaded Little Women to watch tonight--- the movie my mom, Cherie and I watched this night last year. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to watch it or if I even want to. I’ve never felt so unsure of what I want or how to be. Settled in this pain or afloat in distraction?

Outside myself. Away from me.

We ate Halloween candy. My mom’s appetite had returned and though she couldn’t walk, or sleep lying down, or breathe without oxygen flowing at its highest setting into her nostrils, we saw her appetite as a sign of improvement.

You see what you can.

I told her I loved her. See, I didn’t know but somewhere I knew.

I slept on the hospital bed that night. She stayed on her couch. Around 3am I woke up, startled and surprised that we hadn’t been up yet in the night together. I brought all my blankets with me to the couch and sat beside her and covered us both. She was alive. I made sure our skin touched. Our arms. The outside of our thighs. I rubbed her back and neck. I didn't know. Somewhere I knew.

The sun is already west. Our day together nearly gone.

My head on her shoulder, I held her hand. She was barely awake and I suppose barely alive, but we held hands.

We took our nap together then.

And Now For Something Completely Different.

Just two years ago...on a planet far, far away from the one I'm on now.

I can't remember if I ever posted this, but I just stumbled across it and it gave me a deep (and deeply needed) laugh. Mattie came to NH for a visit a couple of falls ago and this is the kind of shit we get into when we're together. All editing credit goes to Mattie. Dirty Chirl (sister #4) is on camera duty and Katie (sister #3) is on commentary. Bec (sister #2) provided the backyard and I'm sure Tara (sister #1) called at some point that day. I'm in charge of gravity (though some might argue Mattie had some responsibility there as well).

Let's all get a laugh at my expense, shall we?

P.S. Don't we all think Mattie should come back to the 'shire again soon so he can cheer me up and we can make more fun videos?

(Can I get away with the 'shire? I mean, can I?)

And fall used to be my favorite time of year...

I’m enjoying a spiced pumpkin latte right now at my usual coffee shop. I haven’t been here in weeks, wanting to be mostly home these days. Even a coffee shop feels chaotic and overwhelming lately.

I sat in this exact seat last year when I returned to New Hampshire after spending October 10th to November 5th in Rhode Island. Only a couple of days after my mom died.

The crisp air brought sorrow this year. I hadn’t expected it to hit me this early but the wind changed and my body understood its meaning before my mind did. A limbic brain remembering the chilling fear that came with the chilling air; the falling hearts with the falling leaves. The anniversary of her dying is hitting before the anniversary of her death.

I am slipping into darkness, I can feel it.

Let me say this: I have safety nets in place. Medication. Therapy. Dan.

Still a sadness cloaks me so completely that I sometimes experience a sense of almost amnesic displacement---Who am I? Where am I? What am I to do? It's worst at night, of course.

I look for her everywhere. When Dan and I drive through new towns, I expect to see her walking out of stores. Like she’s hiding out and not gone. I found an old cell phone recently and when it worked and I saw that there were messages from her, I thought that I had found her. She’s been writing to me here this whole time! My heart swelled and deflated so quickly that it was in sharp pain, like when you turn your neck too quickly in a way it's not meant to go. My heart won't ever know my mom in the same way and it is straining to catch a glimpse of her.

I am looking out this coffee shop window now, hoping to catch that glimpse. I am imagining spotting her across the street and watching her look both ways before crossing towards me. Sneakers. Her brown felt coat. Her purse strap across her chest. Smiling. Laughing and waving to the drivers who let her pass. Beaming as her eyes meet mine in this window. “Here I am,” she’d say. “Here I am, my Laura.”

I can picture this so vividly---I understand now why they put these sorts of scenes in movies---that I am crying in this shop now, my face down and covered with my hand.

The memories of last October are haunting me. The fear. She began sleeping sitting up, falling asleep mid-sentence. Sometimes she woke not quite herself, speaking words that didn't make sense and scared because she was aware of it. I would tell her to ride it out, to not worry if she didn't make sense. Her fear haunts me most.

So, I'm not sure how much I'll be writing this month or even during the coming holidays. When I do write lately it's about these memories that keep flashing through me, in feelings if not pictures. The 911 calls, holding her hand through panicked, insufficient breaths---I'm not sure I can share those here. I mean just how much of a downer can this blog be? But maybe I'll want to. Hard to know anything for certain these days.

Who am I? Where am I? What am I to do?

Lots of laundry and cleaning and even cooking. Sometimes moving seems the only option. Sometimes not.

Which isn't to say there aren't moments of levity. My mom was laughing the night before she died and taught us how to always find the crumbs of joy even in times of famine.

The other night Dan painted my toenails in the most beautiful act of just being there that I have ever witnessed or experienced.

Modern Family has me laughing hysterically every Wednesday night. (Dan and I started this comfortable little tradition of watching it from bed because 9pm seems a reasonable---if not late---bedtime lately.)

I've had two nice lunches with my sisters and dad in the last week.

And then there's the wonderful warmth of this spiced pumpkin latte.

My mom would be glad for all of this. Still, particularly on rainy days like this one, I only wish she and I were watching a Lifetime movie in her family room, both of us falling asleep after having been up all night like we were last year. Even at its worst, I loved just sitting with her.

Sometimes when I close my eyes for a nap it feels like she is in the room with me.

My dad's health is uncertain to say the least and saying the least is what he'd prefer I do, a choice I understand and will honor. My family is in a sad transition of trying to relearn who we are to each other within the context of this broken version of our family.

It's just hard. Like I said, I hadn't expected it this early but then nothing has been as I anticipated.

She would love the orange leaves. She would love this rain.

And I would love her loving them.

This is where I am. Who I am. And there's nothing to be done other than acknowledging it is so.

How satisfying is this?

I should be embarrassed, shouldn't I be?

But I'm not. I look at this and feel a really ridiculous amount of pride. We don't even have pets or kids! What would your sludge pot look like? Perhaps I could make a business of doing sludge pot readings.

My Mama's Rainbow is back and all cleaned up and purty and yesterday it had its first romp around the apartment. So...much...hair. Also, spiders. Our apartment is where daddy longlegs come to winter. This is extremely unsettling for those of us in this apartment who are certain that spiders mess with sleeping humans for sport.

I am cracked up by the amount of Rainbow loyalists that I've heard from since posting this. I feel I've tapped into some type of underground cleaning society. Perhaps we should all meet up and cross hoses.

So, apparently vacuum sales are born, in large part, from leads generated by users. For instance, when I told Brian that my sister mentioned hating her Kirby, he suggested I talk her into having him to her house for a 45-minute free demonstration on the latest model (which is apparently Rosie-from-The-Jetsons-good). I told him I'd see what I could do. This being my "public forum," I am mentioning it here because somewhere in my heart I feel this is an old-school good deed during hard economic times.

If anyone wants a Rainbow demonstration (I can't believe I'm writing this), let me know and I'll contact Brian to give him your info. Full disclosure: If I get him two demonstrations---without anyone purchasing a thing---I get a free Rainmate which is an air purifier that sounds like the porn version of Rain Man. I don't really need an air purifier but the idea of winning something is always delightful.

Did I mention that Dan has suffered from asthma since he was a young child.

I know Brian will travel anywhere in New Hampshire, which I assume means he'll likely cross a New England state border or two. Did I also mention that, "The Rainbow is certified asthma & allergy friendly™ by the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America*."

So it's sexy too!

IF YOU CALL NOW, I'LL EVEN THROW IN THIS LIGHTLY USED PLUNGER!

WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

I'm really not trying to break into the vacuum business here but I told Brian I would do my part and now I've done it.

Today Dan and I are going on a Target/Christmas Tree Shop field trip. Welcome mats, throw pillows, storage totes, oh my! I woke up excited about it which I find a bit depressing. Maybe we'll even have lunch at the Target food counter!

Vacuum referrals and weekend trips for household wares---it's all feeling very domestic around here. We'll have to have sex in a movie theater tonight to prove to ourselves that we're still a childless couple in our prime.

Or, we could take turns throwing random crap on the rug and vacuuming it up to see what it looks like in the Rainbow's water tank.

Tough call.