In case any of you out there decide to douche at midnight during a blackout, I have got the product for you.
This is what you buy when you are detoxing off one of your antidepressants and are waiting for the doc to refill and you haven’t much to do at your new job and are feeling a bit like a useless appendage.
At home there are two dogs wrecking the house, aided and abetted by one five-month-old kitten to whom you are highly allergic but saved from a hoarding situation and have so far gotten her every shot imaginable and had her treated for fleas, extreme underweight, and an upper respiratory infection. There is a nice home waiting for her once she is cured of all her illnesses.
You survive the dander by hanging out in your room and not letting the pets in while they wreck the house on the other side of the door.
In two days is the holiest day of the year, Yom Kippur and while you walk a fine line between Judaism and Catholicism, this is a day you take seriously. And you hope your saving this little baby will somehow convince God to give you a pass for your errors and trespasses of the past year, of which there were a few.
And if you remember, you will say a prayer for all those who broke your heart by not accepting you for who you are and not recognizing that that is what you tried to do for them, grouchy days, sorrowful days, flaws and all. But then you have to send them on their way. Because they won’t ever get it and it is not your charge to make them.
And there are Serenity Slurpees (Coke!) to savor, and scrawny kittens to rescue and cuddle, and prescriptions to be filled, and though it is hard to be misunderstood, you will fly far from the burning bridge visible from your rear view window, and you will ask God for a fresh start.
So, I just read this article that sums up some of what I have been feeling as someone who has “beaten” cancer. (I often feel as if cancer has beaten me, like with a stick, even though I was only Stage 1 and have been told I am free of cancer now.)
You’re left with fear, your single focus of fighting cancer and having doctor upon doctor helping you achieve that goal finishes and then you have to go back to ordinary life, but you are different and so is your life. Someone wrote this in HuffPost, and I hope some can relate.
I realize I started this blog out to be funny. And then life happened, and some things are funny. But some are not.
Love to all.
Here is the LINK to the Huffington Post article.
True story this: When I was a little kid, we lived in the city (THE city), and my Auntie Betty, the person second only to Jesus Christ himself for a good and kind heart in the history of this planet, used to take us on the bus from Staten Island to Queens or Manhattan, or from her apartment in Queens to Manhattan, all over. We were quite the little bus riders back in the day. And I used to get upset as a kid of about 7 when I saw the old people on the bus, and Auntie Betty wanted to know why, and I was sad because the old people on the bus were going to die soon, and that just broke my heart.
And to this day, my mother has my schoolwork from when I was a little kid, and for current events I used to being in obituaries. My mother has notebook pages with obituaries taped to them and scrawled first-grade pencil descriptions about the person who died. I distinctly remember one that said, “This man made hats.”
Some people are just born melancholy and morbid. If you work with me, you know I can turn a normal conversation into one about my neighbor being run down by a bus and leaving behind a whole house of foster dogs and then walk away leaving some group of formerly cheery individuals searching for a funny anecdote.
Nature, nurture, hello; my sister is not like this.
So, when you are attuned to all the negative in the world (I had to stop watching political shows and one night watched a documentary about Diane Schuler, who drive her car the wrong way on the Taconic Parkway in NY state, killing many; this is what makes me feel better than CNN), when the positive comes along, you should celebrate it.
So, my son recently went on vacation to Beirut. Here is why. He is going out with a young woman who pursued Middle Eastern Studies in college and who speaks Arabic. She is on an internship with the United Nations and working with Palestinian refugees in Lebanon. They are mostly women and children, and this work is not going to make her rich. But it is what her life’s purpose is: helping poor people who have been displaced and have no homes and are struggling.
So, the Mueller report won’t save us and Jeff Bezos should be helping these people, but is not, and Warren Buffett, it turns out, is big in ripping off people who are trapped living in mobile homes they have paid for on land that is not theirs so they have to pay whatever lot rate is thrown at them.
But, there is Amy. And others like her. And I can get up in the morning knowing this, even if riding the train to New York makes me sad for the old people.
So, about Elizabeth Warren and the DNA test that says she has a Native American ancestor from generations ago: she thought she was of Native American ancestry and it’s what she believed. It was lore that was passed down by family and over the generations it got older, but it is what she believed to be true.
And it’s personal for me because…I just had my DNA done. I am adopted by Jewish people and self-identify as a Jew, but I also have this Catholic-Jesus thing, so I call myself Jatholic. Now, my birth mom was Catholic, but one of her (my) relatives told me my father was Jewish, and that all fit for me. It was my ideal. Catholic and Jewish.
Then I get my DNA done, and I am 99.9% European, but only 0.2% Askenazi Jew. There are like 2 drops of Jewish blood in my body.
So this is sort of an existential crisis for me, but I am prone to saying, “Oy Gottenu” and “it’s a shandeh and a charpeh” and around my neck I wear two Catholic miraculous medals, a hamsa, a Star of David my daughter bought me, and the Icelandic Viking bindrune for the word love.
As far as I’m concerned, the two drops make me enough of a Jew to take Yom Kippur off and feel bad about all the shitty things I have done in the previous year.
And as far as I am concerned, Elizabeth Warren is Native American.
Remember what Cher said to Winona Ryder’s character in the movie “Mermaids” as she prayed before the statues of Mary and Jesus on her dresser: “Charlotte, we’re Jewish.”
Our work picnic is tomorrow and I needed to pick up fried chicken to contribute. On a cash economy until payday, and I counted out about $65 in the car so I knew what I could spend.
So I got fried chicken and grabbed my necessities for the week–cream for coffee, toothbrushes, Chobani key lime, peanut butter crackers en masse for snacks at office, – frozen mac and cheese–and everything came to about $50. Got in line, and while the person before me was being rung up, I got my money. All I found was $41.
As the cashier started to ring me up, I asked him to hold on and only ring up what had to be refrigerated because I must have left money in my car. He asked me if I wanted to go to my car, and I just started blathering: “I had cancer this year, I am freaking out at the moment and having a hot flash, had radiation and surgery, I am so sorry, I can’t go back out to the car because I am really sweaty…” Like a total hot flash nervous breakdown and I could feel myself turning red.
And the cashier, Al was his name, tells me he is a Christian and it’s all going to be all right, and he hates to see someone upset on his line, and I have clearly had a bad year. And he says he will only ring up the cold stuff, and it will all be okay. And the woman behind me says that she likes Al, that he is a good guy.
And as he is ringing just the cold stuff, I am digging in my purse yet again, as I had for the past 5 minutes, and I find another $40. And Al tells me things work out when you don’t get upset. And he wants me to have a better year and maybe we will all feel better after November, anyway, because of the elections.
So I bought my toothbrushes and peanut butter crackers and all I had planned to. And Al said he wanted me to feel better and he will keep me on his prayer list.
When I got to the car, I was still shaken because that incident reminded me of so many broke single mom incidents when I was trying to pay for stuff for my kids. I guess they are never far from my thoughts. And that is sad in a way, but I sure am glad that there are people like Al out there in this world when you are having such a moment.
Thank you, Al at Shop-Rite.
Yeah, it helps.
But if you suck at parallel parking, you are still gonna suck at parallel parking.