At the Foot of the Stairs

Just as no one can prepare you for the complexities of bringing a child into this world, no one and nothing can prepare you for the utter suckitude of ushering your parents out.

Ran 4.85 miles today. It was a slow, really nice run, because I took a ton of pictures and amused myself vastly in the process of seeing how many LDS Churches I could find during one 5-mile loop.

Just now, I was looking through my mother's desk drawers for a tape measure, so we could take her measurements for clothes shopping. In the bottom drawer, I came across about 5 old cassette tapes from my BYU days that almost made me cry with surprise. Most salient: Les Miserables and 10,000 Maniacs, In My Tribe. p.s. The birthday party was really fun. I couldn't have been more wrong or twit-minded.

My training suggests that tomorrow, I should run 7 miles. The long, Saturday run, after all. I just mapped out what 3.5 miles from my parents' house is, and it turns out it is almost exactly where I lived my Freshman year of college. Hee, I should map the distance to where I lived Sophomore year. So, run down, turn around, run back. Right? I keep thinking about how long it took me last week to recover from 6.5 miles. I'm only here til Monday. This may sound like a huge cop out, but is it really fair to my parents to a) spend two hours running (oh yes, oh definitely, because there will also be walking) and then the rest of my stay here recovering from said experience. The half-marathon is in July. I think I can have a shorter run tomorrow.

My dad went to the doctor today to have some stitches taken out of his finger. He said this morning that it was bothering him more than it had been. He has a melanoma on the tip of his finger. The lymph nodes in his right arm look okay, but now they need not only to look more closely at the finger, but also to make sure there isn't cancer anywhere else. He is going to have to have about an inch removed from his right ring finger. We are feeling pretty somber about it. Today my mother (who has chronic pain) noted, "Dad doesn't have any pain, but when he gets sick, it's serious." [See: Triple heart bypass in August.] After we found out, I showered, and was checking in on my computer, and my mother remarked, "You don't seem very upset about Dad's finger. I'm very upset. Are you upset?" I glanced at her and pulled a Spock *: "What would you like me to do? Would you like me to lie on the floor weeping? Yes, I am upset. But there is no...

Driving down to the mall for a burger Sitting in the backseat 40-year-old teenager my parents sit in front , my mother talks about neighbors Connie doesn’t like the word dementia So many variables I stare out the window at the mountains How beautiful the light is, hitting Trees, brick buildings, windows. Well, then what word should we use? The sun lights up the bottom of the mountains, Craggy brown rocks seep through snow. There are just so many variables . Bickering Breaking through All that light

I am in Utah, otherwise known as the land of a thousand sticks of gum. Or maybe that's just my parents' house. It hit 50 degrees in the car on the way to Provo from the airport. It was sunny and the skies were blue. So, even though I just got there, having sat a lot in the past two days, I immediately changed into my running gear and headed out. I didn't want to take the time to map out a course before going today, so I decided to run out 20 minutes and then turn around and head back. I started by running half-way up Foothills Drive. I'll take pics tomorrow. I need to work on hills for the 1/2 marathon, but I didn't try to do the entire hill today. Before I had gotten half-way in my run, I came across a small dog in the road. So, I paused my music and crouched down and tried to get the dog to come to me, so I could look at his tag and maybe return him. He growled and barked, so I sat down on some steps near the sidewalk, leading up to one of the many LDS churc...

I have one foot in Missouri, and one out West. Whenever I have a trip, the days leading up to it are sort of dreamlike: I still have things to do: Feed the children. Pack. Pick up minivan from the mechanic. Drop off a contract on campus. Laundry, errands, packing. I have a list. I can't find my sunglasses. My belt is too big. My glasses are resting oddly on my face and leaving a bright red mark by my nose that alarms my youngest child, but I can't be bothered to stop and have them adjusted. I wear contacts. I can't find my sunglasses. I am reminded of a poem that I wrote twenty years ago-- is that meta, or just narcissistic? Or just evidence that the more things change, the more they stay the same. It's the last stanza that I am reminded of. I actually say these lines to myself often: (will post the entire poem separately another time). 3 these are my concerns     oil on the piano       cats who keep their claws perfectly out stretched matchbox, fracture...

For once in their stupid little lives, the weather forecasters were right. 

His death was not air held and let go: gurgling, rise in the chest head up, fighting for breath. Years later nights are no easier. Hospital rooms, long corridors, dark curtains drawn.    She draws her body up night after night going deeper. Each morning awake she is startled she is here she has found her way back.

It's snowing. I've heard we should get ten inches. We already have... 3 or 4? Big fat flakes. The kids have been invited to go to a movie this afternoon, and I need want to get to the store. Of course, with a diabetic kid, there are things you *should* have around like milk, orange juice, fresh fruit, and carbohydrate snacks. We can get through today and possibly tomorrow without a run to the store, but I don't like to cut things that close. My van is still in the shop, so we'll see how the car does in the snow. I doubt the kids will have school tomorrow. I mean, it's possible, but MODOT is not the quickest at clearing the roads. I understand that the school district hesitates to cancel school because of financial and other bureaucratic reasons, but if I [still] lived in the country, there are days this winter that I would have openly flipped off in the general direction of the superintendent and kept my kids home anyway. As it stands now, we can walk it, so we h...

Testing

Tommy is making taco lasagna for us for dinner. I know that I had never made a lasagna before my... twenties? I am assisting, of course, but he happily washed the 9 x 13" pan (because he dirtied it last night by making a cake). The kid is becoming a ridiculously good baker/cook. I asked him today if he were interested in learning to make bread. "No." hahaha, don't sugarcoat it, Kid. Last night, I was so tired from all of my running this week that I went to bed before 9pm. Of course, I woke up at midnight. Took a melatonin, went back to bed. I was okay this morning mainly because I'd gotten the extra sleep early. My body was already tired this morning, and I was staring down a 6-mile-run. As part of training for a half marathon (July 3, here in town), we have to start increasing our weekend miles. I had been trying to map out routes last night and the internets were fussy and gassy, so I stopped. I had a general idea this morning of what a 6-mile-run would be, s...

I had an unexpectedly good afternoon yesterday. That is, I knew I had some specific things to do, activities and errands planned, but I didn't know they would end up being so much fun! First. I went running with Devon and Carol. We had to be done in time to go pick up kids from school. So, we ran our usual short route (which I have now reversed the direction of so the big hill that winds me is at the beginning of the run, not the end of it). Instead of running over to Osteopathy St. and back to First to lengthen the run to 3 miles, in the interest of time, I suggested we run directly to Mary Immaculate, so Carol and Devon could get their kids. We ran at a faster pace than we usually do, but I kept up and was even able to talk (I kept thinking, "Shut up, you can't breathe," but then I kept talking anyway). We made plans for a longer run today (we are hoping to do 6, but I am so tired right now, I am dreading it a little bit-- training for a half marathon is hard!), a...

1. Christian: Can you imagine Wicked porn? Me: Er... yes. Can you? Christian: Elphaba, Glinda, and Dr. Dillamond. .. Me: Thank you. Thank you very much. Christian: I'm sorry-- is it bad that I talk about sex so much? Me: Nope. It's normal, healthy, and expected. 2. About five minutes later, Tommy came waltzing prancing into the kitchen. "European or Gay?" Definitely gay.  

*My chest aches with the roundness of yearning and expands like a cyst. It's summer, sultry, and I distract myself with animals and sweat. The red cat's ear is pregnant, taut, A stretched football of skin, a hair egg, at every meal a little bigger. A stapled scab, black crust matte fur, and I suspect a fight: Some bigger cat, claws unsheathed, unmatched. The vet says in all likelihood the cat did it to himself: One sharp claw and one interminable itch. My cat book says, An abscess is a deep wound with a very small opening. Most punctures don't bleed much. They seal themselves off from greater harm with pus around the site . Round is the shape of infection. The vet says this abnormality, this ball, this pregnant anomaly will resolve itself over time. The cat will scratch, the wound will ooze, refill. So it is with your section of my heart. Every night I scatch the wound seal it off and in the morning clean the blood and try again. ...

A few changes around here-- just some minor color changes, and some new stuff on the sidebar. I went running twice today. I went this morning at 8 a.m. with my friend Devon (pictured above at the Frostbite run) (who is married to Royce (at your left), whom I have mentioned) and she pushed her 11-month-old, sleeping daughter, Fern, in the baby jogger. We did 2.5 miles and talked the whole way. It seemed like a good pace. I was tired after that, because I got up at 6:10 a.m. for insulin. Then, I ended up making cinnamon rolls for the kids for breakfast because I didn't go to the store yesterday for Christian's usual breakfast. He reminded me later to go to the story, and I drily remarked, "You know, it's not like I'm not providing you with other foods." After my run, I found Christian's lunch sitting on the counter, so I ran to to school for him. Then, did a little work, and Dash and I drove down to Macon (30 miles South) to pick up our newly-butchered...

Next week, I am going to visit my parents. It's been since August-- it's overdue. Though, considering the fact that I was there for three weeks in August, I think things will even out. The main trouble is that my mother probably doesn't remember much about that visit. What she does remember may be unpleasant: That was the visit that ended her driving. Getting her to stop driving was one of my prime objectives during that visit, apart from keeping my dad alive after his triple bypass surgery. And by "my" I should actually say "Our." My brother was also in Utah for three weeks, though we were only there for about ten days of it together. That was enough for us to talk about our mutual goals for improving our parents' quality of life. We spent tons of time shopping, cooking, cleaning, and then doing quiet research on the basement phone and computer. We identified home aid options, alternative transportation options, and began, quietly, to investigate ...

Before they were born she pulled his arm across her bent at the elbow hand at her collarbone kissed the skin of his wrist and whispered this is by design so when she tore him from her flung him far into the air he would understand longing to be the shape of that embrace calling him to her, hurtling him back

Believe it or not, I've been running, on and off, since I was 12 years old. If you know how old I am, you can do the math. There have been years I haven't run, but, as with writing and poetry, I have always returned to it. In fact, I remember as a high schooler who had aspirations to be a writer, I didn't know whether running was compatible with wanting to be a writer. It didn't seem to fit a certain goth persona (that I also never embodied). I now know that the more experiences you can have period the better if you are a writer. I would also argue that if you want to be a writer, you are a writer. But this is really a post about running. When Carol and I were running a couple of years ago (on Jenorama, I called her The Dom , because she is a task-master. She will call every single day to go running, and it's much easier for me now, but at one time, it was a real pain), running wasn't very good for me. It was awful just about every time we went, and we got u...

Feigned Indifference If you want your children to watch one of your favorite movies 1 , the worst thing you can do is invite them to watch it with you. This will guarantee groaning, muttered complaints that go on for the duration of the movie, eye rolling, and misery for the entire family. Instead, if there is something you really want your kids to watch, sneak off to the TV room without a word. Silently close the door behind you. Turn on your movie, and wait. A variation that works handily is to say before you go into the TV room, "I am going to watch something and I don't want to be interrupted unless you are bleeding from your carotid artery." This is a time-tested, guaranteed technique to pique their interest. When they inevitably open the door and pop their heads in, bark, "What? I don't interrupt you when you're trying to watch something!" "What are you watching?" "No talking. Come in or go out, but shut the door and be...

I am so irritated that I even feel the need to respond to this . I let it go for a couple of hours, hoping it would go away, but it didn't, so here I am. I objected to this story when I saw it posted on Facebook for two reasons: 1)The utter and complete douchebaggery of the man who decided he needed to tout this on his very popular website. it is the worst kind of rhetoric: Hey, in the pretense of saying that this is a controversial issue that needs to be commented on, I will disseminate this misogynistic bullshit! 2)It's misogynist. And every time the hatred of women is perpetuated, particularly by other women , it pushes my buttons. I don't care if you are tripped out on ecstasy, dancing naked on a table in a room full of fraternity boys who have been drinking from a keg of beer and shown porn for three hours. That does not excuse them for rape, and you are not to blame for their crimes. But if only that baby hadn't cried so much, that adult wouldn't h...

[From the Infinite Wisdom of Dan Jones, who taught me to stop thinking that it is okay for governments to have the power to kill their own citizens with the death penalty. [From the Infinite Wisdom of Dan Jones, who taught me to stop thinking that it is okay for governments to have the power to kill their own citizens with the death penalty. Lester is talking first and foremost about film and filmmakers, but I think you'll agree that this quote is about a lot more. This sums up how I am feeling these days pretty nicely.] 'More of Lester [Bangs, who was a legendary rock critic from The Rolling Stones ] (and if you don't know who he's talking about, it doesn't matter. Think of any "dark"artist. I tend to think of filmmakers like the Coens, PT Anderson and Christopher Nolan): “Just for the record, I would like it known by anybody who cares that I don't think life is a perpetual dive. And even though it's genuinely frightening, I don't think R...

Happy Boost-Hallmark's-Stock Day!!! It's been a pretty nice weekend. Since I posted the other day about being sad, the universe has taken a little pity on me. I'm still cautious, taking life day by day, but grateful for some relief. This morning, we went to brunch with some friends. They offer six different kinds of eggs benedict, and $3 mimosas and bloody marys. Despite the cheapness of the drinks, I had only one mimosa and so much coffee that I'm still running to the bathroom every half hour or so. Of course, the fact that I came to the coffeeshop to work (not as a barista) afterwards probably did not help. Carol and I were going to run today, but last night it started snowing, and, well, it is still snowing. She left early for Iowa, and well, I decided to stay at the coffeeshop. I am at the coffeeshop with my friend Karen, whom I never get to see. She came to brunch. She is grading papers and hoping to be snowed into Kirksville (she lives several hours south)...

Me: "Hey, can we wear our numbers around all day?" Her: "Only if you want to answer the question all day." Me: "What question?" Her: "How did you do in the race?" Me: "Oh. Nevermind." Do I get points for rolling out of bed and finishing the race? You bet your bippy I do. And after the race, she bought me a mocha.

Me : I think today will be better. My god, you should have seen how puffy it was under my eyes when I got up today. I had to put hemorrhoid cream under my eyes. So now my face smells like ass. Her : Now your face smells like ass. Mwah-ha. That's ironically, sadly appropriate for the whole emotional slough you're in right now, somehow, though I can't quite follow the thread... And I probably shouldn't laugh. Oh, of course I should. I'm sure you meant me to. Hugs to you, oh puffy one. I'd never, ever thought of using PrepH for that purpose, but I'll be tucking it away in my "beauty secret" file, for sure. Mwah! Me :I did mean for you to laugh-- I will have to think about that thread, too, hahaha. Of course, maybe worse than smelling like ass may be smelling like the remedy for swollen ass veins... That's not very elegant, is it? Oh my god, scary puffy face though. I learned about this trick a few years ago at karaoke. The women carry i...

I am sad. Actually, sad doesn't really approach it. I have cried more in the past six weeks than I have in a long, long time. But I have decided that it's okay to admit this, and probably detrimental not to. I am sad, disappointed to my core, I feel betrayed, and I am really starting to question my judgment. Because if you looked closely at my life-- or if I let you-- you would probably agree that my judgment absolutely sucks. Wow. I have wasted so much time. So much. I am 40 now. I don't really have the energy or elasticity to bounce back from things like this anymore. I can see cracks in the rubberband, little cracks that no amount of care or lubrication can repair. If I am asked to stretch, if I am asked to reach around or hold anything, I am going to break. I am not completely sure what that break looks like, but I am pretty sure it feels like this.

I have decided not to make any decisions today. Having now decided this, I have also decided to go back to bed.

But I would sure like one right now. It is almost impossible to describe the level of suck right now that is the short, shitty life of Jen. But not quite. And indeed there will be time For the yellow smoke that slides along the street, Rubbing its back upon the window-panes; There will be time, there will be time To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet; There will be time to murder and create, And time for all the works and days of hands That lift and drop a question on your plate; Time for you and time for me, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions, Before the taking of a toast and tea. In the room the women come and go Talking of Michelangelo. And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair-- [They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!...

Like the man who stands by the window because he lost his wife in the crowd there are people we love whom we will never meet until the rain comes in teeth over the mountains we see it is coming for us

I came across this article this morning in my blog reader (and the fact that that is where I found it is funny to me-- you'll see why when you read it). I am not only linking to it , but re-posting here [what is in blue is quoted material]: There’s a lot going on in George Packer’s  condescending post about Twitter , but I think this is his core point: Here’s another: Marc Ambinder,  The Atlantic ’s very good politics blogger, was asked by Michael Kinsley to describe his typical day of information consumption, otherwise known as reading.  Ambinder’s day  begins and ends with Twitter, and there’s plenty of Twitter in between.  No mention of books, except as vacation material via the Kindle. I’m sure Ambinder still reads books when he’s not on vacation, but it didn’t occur to him to include them in his account, and I’d guess that this is because they’re not a central part of his reading life . And he’s not alone. Just about everyone I know complains about t...

The other day, I got an email from the Business Office at work. We now have the option to have our paychecks deposited into multiple accounts. Instead of making me happy (which it should have-- I have three accounts that I could divide it among), it made me feel really crabby... and a little scared. Sometimes, I think of the Internets in terms of, "Long-term affects have not yet been studied." The Internet is so new, so fresh, changing and growing so quickly that sometimes it makes me fearful that it is a cancer that has swept us all along. The 21st century's small pox or black plague. Yes, I know that I am using the Internet to write this, and you are using the Internet to read this. But I am still a little fearful and suspicious about all of this. Actually, the word "still" is a misnomer. I have only recently become a little fearful of it. Perhaps it goes back to a search for authenticity and simplicity. The Internet does nothing but fragment and compl...