I'm just a mean green mother from outer space and I'm bad!

Meet my favorite plant, affectionately known as Audrey II (A2 for short). Umm... if anyone reading this isn't a total theater/musical geek... please rent Little Shop of Horrors. Please?

A2 is hideous. She's taken over my entire bay window. Usually I tuck all of the tendrils back behind the drapes, or else you see this...

Some of those tendrils or branches, or well, let's face it - they look like tentacles, are over 5 feet long. I wanted to make sure I'm not exaggerating - so I measured. The one on the left is 5 foot, 3 inches. Very, very close to my height. There are weird spiky "things" that are up and down the tendrils. A2 is a fugly plant and the more she grows, the more disturbing she looks.

So why keep the monstrosity in the bay window? If I must keep it, why isn't she locked away in a room where no one can see her?

Audrey II was my Dad's. His father, (Poppy), only brought two things with him when he traveled from Equador to the United States in 1920. This plant, and a machete for cutting sugar cane. The plant is probably close to 100 years old. Poppy loved all of his plants, always had beautiful gardens and fruit trees. Whenever I visited him, he'd take me all around the yard explaining how to nurture each one. He was a sweet, sweet man - the same temperament as my Dad. Nonny... well, not so much. It's the men in the family who are sweet. The women are strong and fierce and more than a little prickly. But the men love them for some beauty that not every one can see... much like Audrey II.

She's a night blooming cereus, Reina de la Noche, Queen of the Night. A type of flowering cactus. They're nocturnal blooms that only last a single evening. Supposedly they're beautiful flowers that have a very strong aroma. They're supposed to look like this -

I wouldn't know from personal experience. I've never seen ours bloom. Never. Dad only got her to bloom once, in the early 70's, before he met my mom. There's a picture somewhere of Dad standing next to her at night, with all of the blooms. But we've never been able to reproduce it. So poor Audrey II has been stuck as an ugly plant that everyone complains about. Mom is always after me to trim her back some. My husband "jokes" that he's scare of the plant. I don't really think it's a joke. Me, I love her. I always hope that just water and letting her be will induce flowers. I've read up on what to do, what not to do... and I just leave her alone. She gets a quart of water every week, and that's about it. Every two weeks in the winter to keep her dormant.

She's one of the few things I have left of my Dad's. When Mom lost the house, I got Audrey II, my Dad's favorite kayaking hat that made him look like an Australian farmer, and an antique ice chest that's in my dining room (the hooch hutch!). I have plenty of memories, but not a lot of sentimental keepsakes.

Where's this all going? Well... darling Baron is in Vegas this weekend for Defcon. I'm home alone, just me and the dog. A few days ago I noticed a funny smell in the living room. Not a bad smell, just not the smell of home. Slightly musky. It's been driving me nuts. Today after work I went searching for the smell.

I found this...


The remnants of a single bloom. I missed it. She hasn't bloomed in almost 40 years, and I missed the one night she did. I sobbed. Hysterically. For an hour. I called my mother sobbing, and I couldn't speak, just sobbed like a child on the phone. She thought something had happened to my husband, and then she almost choked laughing when she realized what happened. Monday was Dad's birthday. Next week is the third anniversary of his passing. And his plant finally bloomed.

In typical "Mayor of Crazytown" fashion... she's slightly annoyed with me. This is a direct quote... "Dad always talks to you more than he talks to me". The logical part of me knows that I just let the plant be long enough to bloom. They like to be left alone. It takes 5 years worth of leaf growth before they'll bloom, and they like to be pot bound. Perfect houseplant for someone with a brown thumb. But the little girl in me is heartbroken that it was a gift from Dad that I didn't see in time to appreciate. Sigh.

Always Look on The Bright Side of Life...

Pretty much sums it up these days. I know, I know... I haven't returned emails, phone calls, but it's taking pretty much everything in me to get up and shower in the morning.

Here's what's going on. Gram was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia, heart attacks, and her general declining health. Both of you who read the blog know that I deal with all of the phone calls when it comes to her health, and tried to be a good girl and visit every other day, taking Mom with me several times. Not fun. She was at the same hospital Dad died in. Mom did okay, but it was really tough on both of us Gram made it through, and she's back at the nursing home.

Meanwhile on the homefront, the Baron and I had a complete relationship meltdown. Epic proportions for a few days. I was having anxiety attacks for a few days, and wound up working from home at least once because I thought I was going to stroke out.

Oh yeah, and if you watch the news, read the paper, or don't live under a rock... you also know that the company I work for is in serious jeopardy - not a good time for me not to be putting in my best performance at work. Terrified I'm going to lose my job.

So I backed off from Mom and Auntie for a few days, trying to straighten my life out and get my head back together. Mom was so good about it, but the visits to the hospital to see Gram really through her out of whack. Flash forward a week, and Mom hadn't really slept or eaten since I saw her 6 days ago. Not good. We hugged, we cried, we took medication, finally got Mom to sleep, with the promise that she wouldn't stay alone in the house for a few days, she'd go down to my other Aunt's house to stay.

And yesterday when I talked to her (3 days after the meltdown) she had been at my aunt's a few days.... and she's decided that's it. She's not sleeping at her house ever again. She's officially moved. I knew it was coming, but I just didn't expect it to hurt so much. My parent's house is never going to be my parent's house again. Pretty soon she won't own it any longer. I can't stop crying about it. I may be pushing toward 40, been on my own since my early 20's, but dammit, Mom and Dad's house was always home! I won't be able to just swing by when I have a bad day. I won't be able to just let myself in and raid the goodie cabinet.

And the worse part is, the part that my head still can't wrap around... I'll never see Dad sitting on the oversized chair watching t.v.. I'll never see him at the computer playing his games on Pogo. I'll never again kvetch with him about work acquaintances, or how the whole place is going to hell in a hand basket. I'll never see any of his tacky Christmas decorations hung all over the house. It all finally seems real, and I can't stand it.

All this whining, and that stupid Monty Python song is ringing in my ears. Come on everybody, whistle along with me...

If there's a heaven, I hope it looks like this

I didn't post a lot about the trip once we started to head out of Orlando and to the Keys. All I can say... difficult. It was an extremely tough trip. I know we did the right thing. I know Dad would have been so proud of us for figuring out a way to get to Key West to spread his ashes. But it wasn't easy.

There were moments when I swear he was with us. That's a big deal for me to say - I want to believe in an afterlife, I want to believe there's something else, but I have no proof, and dammit, I don't believe ANYTHING that I don't experience for myself.

There were songs that played on the radio at highly coincidental moments. The second we were crossing on to the first Key, Oye Como Va by Santana started playing. Mom and I did our best to ignore it, don't make eye contact, don't cry, don't mention it. Doesn't sound like much - but Dad loved Santana. He definitely rocked the "Latin flava". I used to joke about it with my friends, there were some older women at work that would practically bat their eyelashes at him. There was one woman (no longer there, but if you ask me offline, I'll tell you who - Chey prolly remembers) that we used to call Cujo. Gentle as can be *insert rolling of eyes and gagging* - which is how she earned the nickname when we were trainees. Yup, she and Dad were buds. Woman would rip me a new ass in a meeting, and go home and bake a cake for him. No lie.

Where the hell was this post going? Oh yeah. The Keys and messages from beyond. There was another song that came on right when we went by the state park that my parents went kayaking in. I won't name the song out of respect for Mom's privacy. But if there is an afterlife, if he can communicate at all - it was Dad trying his hardest to let her know he's there.

We let him go the night we arrived in Key West. We found a beautiful spot by where the big cruise ships dock, right as the sun was sinking in to the ocean. Every night when people clap, cheer, and toast the sunset, they'll be celebrating Dad. And as we left his final resting spot, we realized all of the power went out on the island. As S* said when I told him about it... "Where the hell did you guys drop him? You know he can't be unsupervised around electricity!"

Gotta love that town. Power out, 90 degree heat, clothes clinging to the tourists from 100% humidity, all the restaurants and shops closed, but the bars were still open. Candles on the tables, couldn't serve anything with carbonation, but they found us some chips, salsa and killer martinis. We say goodbye to Dad, and then toasted him until we were stumbling and had to call a cab to bring us back to the hotel.

That's about all of an update I can handle for now. I feel better that he's where he truly wanted to be, but it hasn't eased the sense of loss. I still miss talking to him every day, and still turn quick when I hear a voice that sounds like his, or see a head that looks like his 5 aisles away. But I know we did the right thing. I'm grateful that the timing worked out. Seriously, if it had been a month later, with the way the economy is going, there is no way we could have swung it. But I'll deal with that in another post. For now, I'm just going with grateful.

I know, I know, I'm still not returning emails or phone calls in a timely manner. I will, I promise. Still having that head-stuck-up-my-ass problem. But it's getting better. I'm starting to try to reach out again. Of course, with the current economic shitstorm, I can't afford to go out to dinner with you guys, but perhaps a night of Guitar Hero and homemade margaritas is in order soon? Muah! Love to all my girls...

I'm Going to DisneyI

Well, in 12 short hours I'm headed to the Magic Kingdom. Before you get all jealous... it's a working vacation. And I'm bringing Mom. I think we both need to head out of Dodge for a little while, and this is just fortuitous timing.

I'm headed to a conference, which will be 3-4 days of sheer madness. Straight work. The last conference I went to was a lot of fun, but there's a need to be "on" 24/7 - attending presentations, constantly logging in to work, networking, trying to get the most of out of it all, and make sure they don't regret sending me... but of course, the networking events usually have alcohol, and I have no filter, so I have to work really hard during the daytime events to make up for my behavior at the evening events. What can I say? It's a lot of pressure being me!

Anyway, we head down tomorrow afternoon, and have Sat night and all day Sunday to relax before the conference and tough work starts. The conference ends on Thursday, and Mom and I will be driving down to Key West. Sounds tough, right?

Well... then we do the really tough part. We say good bye to Dad. His will listed out all of his advanced medical directives, and on the back of it he hand wrote several instructions. He didn't want a wake. He wanted to be cremated. He wanted a memorial service that was full of music and a celebration of his life. And then he wanted his ashes scattered either in Rhode Island or Key West. The places he was happiest. Where he kayaked and had great memories with Mom. The places he was at peace and was able to just sit back and enjoy life.

When we get to Key West we'll be dispersing Dad's ashes. Saying a final good-bye, and making sure he's resting where he always wanted to be, in the warm waters of the Florida Keys. I'm eerily calm about the whole thing. I expected to be very anxious and fretting, but there's a certain comfort in knowing that we're following his wishes. Knowing he'd be happy that we figured out a way to get there.

It's been less than 7 weeks since he passed away. I miss him terribly. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him, wish I could hear his voice, miss just chatting in the aisle at work. I said good-bye to him in the hospital, but it was just words. I don't think I've let him go yet.

I remember a conversation with him last summer. We were chatting out on my parent's patio about all the crap that had gone on over the last few years, losing the babies, Gram's health, his surgery, and how all the different members of our family handled the stress so differently. I remember telling him that I couldn't ever regret having the babies. I couldn't keep getting myself worked up or upset by how sick he had been before the surgery, because I couldn't believe in the world as a dark, cruel place. I had to still believe in joy and beauty of the universe, and for those reasons, I was grateful I had BT and MP. I loved them. They left us too soon, but I was grateful for the precious moments I held them. I was grateful that Dad was so sick that we knew to take his condition seriously, and that the surgery had saved his life. It was the only way to still see the world that I wanted to be a part of.

I still want to believe in that world. If Dad were here now, I think he'd remind me to look at the way things have worked out - we have the opportunity to get to the beach, the warm weather, try to relax a little, and say a proper farewell. There is something good flowing through the universe. Even though our hearts are broken, there's beauty and wonder if you look for it.

Here's hoping there's a little beauty and wonder in it for everyone this week.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

I suppose I should write something deep and profound about grief, loss, and having your whole life put in perspective. But I've got nothing. My life is consumed by mundane tasks. Get up, go to work, talk to Mom, come home, make dinner, space out on the couch for a few hours, talk to Mom again, try to make conversation with S, go to bed. Rinse. Repeat. Over and over and over. Pretend everything is normal.

But it's not. Dad is gone. Mom is a mess. I'm not dealing with it at all. Something funny, annoying, trivial will happen at work, and I'll pick up the phone when I get home and call my parents house. And after the last ring and just before Mom says hello...

I remember. I can't share that joke with Dad. I can't tell him about my awful day. I can't talk shop with him. I'll never hear his voice again. Mom answers the phone, "hello?", and in that split second it all crashes around me. She will never be the same again. Her heart has broken in two. All of their hopes, dreams, and plans for the future have smashed in to pieces. My family will never be whole again. There is no man that loves me unconditionally, just for being me. The Kid. I'm alone. And so is she. I have to catch myself and not ask to talk to him. It happens almost daily. "Hi Mom, just checking to see how you're doing. Did you eat? Did you get any sleep? How was your day?".

I don't know how I'm doing. I am glad you keep asking. I think about my friends a lot. I love you guys. It's not you, it's me. I just don't know how to do anything but Lather, Rinse, Repeat.