No More Mosquitoes

We were sipping our vodkas and enjoying the conversation until all the lights went out.

We crashed a fucking surprise party. Running out the door wasn't an option at that point. I knew five people at the party did not know the party girl so that left fifteen people that might know her.

There she was standing in the doorway surveying the crowd and looking at us with a "Who the hell are you and why are you here?" facial expression.

To her bemused look, all I could do was raise my glass and wink at the liquor.

We left soon after when another party crasher exclaimed, "Wow. They really throw a lame party!"

I would have stayed longer if they had an entertaining "stumbling drunk". They are important keep the attendees entertained during conversational lulls. Yes, I know, I have been the "stumbling drunk" before but I was a good girl last night.

The party wasn't that bad, there were just too many people trying to be sophisticated and adult-like. Yes, quite a few people were pretentious fucks. I've said before, the pretentious fucks know where they can stick it...

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What is this Friendster thing? Why do I need to get a bunch of people listed near my name?

I signed up for it last fall and forgot about it. At the time, the concept was intriguing but now it seems a little silly.

I'm bringing this up because I received an email from a random Friendster person that wants to be my friend. She wants to meet new people and she liked my profile. I have to pursue this because curiosity is going to kill me otherwise.

I have a few kickball events coming up that I can invite her to.

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Final note:

Does anyone know anything about the band Four Tet? "No More Mosquitoes" is quite the catchy tune but I need to know if it's worth it to buy an album.

That girl got skin like a ghost

Growing up Catholic has it ups and downs. It's strange when I have an up. I'm not used to the ups.

I talked to Mom throughout the week when she was in Canon City helping to get everything together for Grandma's funeral. On Wednesday, she told me that they could only find Grandma's glow-in-the-dark rosary. My mother knew I would appreciate that Grandma was being buried with a glow-in-the-dark rosary because I have a rather large glow-in-the-dark collection. In a way, I thought a little piece of me was going to be buried with Grandma. I insisted to my mother that I knew Grandma had a much nicer rosary. Mom suspects that it somehow got lost at the nursing home Grandma lived in.

My mother called again on Thursday to let me know that she did find my Grandma's rosary but she didn't elaborate on it. I was bummed the little "weird" piece of me wasn't going to be buried with her but was happy that something more acceptable and less tacky was.

On Friday morning it was my turn to go in and have "alone time" with Grandma one last time. I walked in and was amazed at how beautiful she looked. The morticians did a wonderful job. They must have taken at least twenty years off of her. She was very peaceful. She was wearing a purple dress, had pearls around her neck, and a purple iris flowered hanky and rosary in her hands. Then I looked at the rosary and lost it. I coveted that rosary when I was young and wished that someday it would be mine. It was made with purple Austrian crystal and metal links. It broke about 15 years ago and she gave it to me over ten years ago to fix. It was missing a few beads that needed to be replaced. It was hard to find Austrian crystal beads that matched. In fact, I didn't find what I was looking for so I settled on as close as I could find. I fixed it and gave it back to her. Nothing was ever said about it. I didn't see it again until yesterday. More than a piece of me went with her; my work went with her. I have never felt that kind of sad joy before.

I hope to feel that sad joy again.

Love My Way

I feel an empty pit has grown over the past few years in my heart.

I visited my Grandma yesterday, if you want to call it a visit. She has the death rattle already. Grandma wasn't there; no fire or spark could be found. She opened her eyes for about 5 seconds to let out a groan and then passed out again. Grandma's not there. Grandma left a long time ago.

I've had these fantastic memories for years now. The summers I was able to stay with my Grandparents were amazing. They spoiled me as I'd never been spoiled before. She bought me a bunch of crap I didn't need every summer. She also bought me the clothes that my Mom couldn't afford to buy me. At the time, I had no idea why I was getting all this attention from my Grandparents.

One summer, they had three female cats and they all had kittens. If there was heaven on earth, I was in it. It was my "chore" to tame the kittens. I tamed them all and cried the day Grandpa got on the radio "swap shop" to advertise free kittens. It hurt to see all the kittens go but my Grandparents did not want 15 cats fighting for the few mice that lived in the barn.

Grandma always had her flowers to tend to and Grandpa always had his garden. I helped both of them with the weeds. They always had a weed problem. Their backyard is Grandpa's garden and then it falls off 30 feet down to the Arkansas River. The gardens were always irrigated with river water.

I later found out that I look very similar to Grandma and so it was easy for me to be their favorite of 19 grandchildren. It sucks now. I know Grandpa looks at me and sometimes sees Grandma. It's a double-edged sword for both of us. Looking at their wedding pictures is eerie. They have one in a hallway that a boyfriend stopped, looked at and asked, "Karen, what are you doing in this picture and who is that guy?"

"It's not me, it's Grandma and that's Grandpa, it's their wedding reception in 1939."

I've been letting go for a few years now. I feel guilty because I'm not as depressed and sad as I think I should be. I'm relieved. I'm relieved that she is finally letting go and I think we are all ready to let her go. Her heart is slowing and she's not getting adequate oxygen to her brain so she just won't wake up again. Congestive heart failure is what they will call it on the official death certificate but it's just old age after a good life if you ask me.

At the extended family Christmas gathering (about 40 of us), she remembered me and called me by my name for the first time in years. She talked to me about the current events in my life that Grandpa had told her about and I couldn't have been happier.

She's 90, had nine children, an 8th grade education, and was the best Grandma I could ever hope for or want. It's time.

No virtues here...move along

Went on a short bar crawl this evening to look for a place the kickball league can go to after games. Ran into a guy, Craig, I've known since I was 10. Strange. I've know him for 24 years now. I run into him occasionally when I'm out and it's great that we can hang out without any pretentiousness. You know, people from your past like to brag about how well they are doing and it just sends shivers up your spine? He isn't like that at all so it's always good to see him. As far as the pretentious fucks...well, they know where to stick it.

Dance on Fire

How much does fear limit the things people do and say in life? We are all afraid but to what extent is each individual affected?

Here's what I'm getting at:
Are passive aggressive people afraid of the truth or are they afraid of your reaction to the truth? I'm not passive aggressive and when I do something that is it drives me nuts and I know when and why I'm doing it. Passive aggressive behavior is not second nature for me. I don't understand why anyone would want to skirt around the truth on a regular basis. The truth is eventually going to get out. Why not get the truth out immediately?

Please don't rip the Band-Aid off slowly just rip it quickly. It's a lot less painful. Is it the fear that hinders people and makes them do it the long and painful route?

Human nature is a conundrum for me.