The days have been a bit of a trudge since I've returned home from my extended stay in New Orleans. I miss Dangerblond and Georgina and our routine, and just being there. Plus, back in the A-T-L, all my real world problems (problems? who has problems?), which didn't disappear despite my "working vacation" from them, have landed squarely back in my lap (imagine that!).
Middle Son is "home", staying with The Oldest in his apartment. He is looking for temporary work and (without much enthusiasm) studying to take the LSAT, which he's postponed (again) until October. He's been charged with 1) administratively supporting his father's entrepreneurial efforts (with one more to get through college, if y'all can figure out another way, I'd love to hear about it...) and 2) helping the aforementioned one more get through two semesters at a local community college, after which he (a/k/a The Youngest) will enter (God willing and the creek don't rise) a mid-sized regional university, not surprisingly located in, yes, a hurricane zone. He needs fifteen hours and decent grades and he can start in January if we can patch it all together. This would make me three for three, sending all three sons off to college in three different cities, each prone to hurricanes. But we're not there yet, taking one step at a time, so I'm holding my breath and crossing my fingers and formulating Plan B, just in case. He's got two classes this summer term. Lots of ifs.
Sis Bel is hangin' in there. She's started back on the "experimental" chemo she had one course of earlier this year. It was a desperate move when they started it and she's been off of it for a while, but it seemed to help her. She feels better now than she did last winter, even being on her third feeding tube. She doesn't have much energy and is unimaginably thin, but she's trying to do things that make her happy. Fortunately for us, this includes baking. One morning this week, I went to work with a fresh out of the oven blueberry turnover, made from scratch, to have with my coffee. Also, her old HS buds are flying her out to Austin for a 4th of July party. Our folks lived there briefly while I was in college, and she finished high school there, and stayed through her 20s. I worry that the trip will be too much for her, but I know she will love it, so it's well worth any risk. They've ordered special assistance, and she's flying to Austin a couple of days early so she can rest between the travel and the party. Her hostess, a best friend from high school, has spent the last four years caring in her home for her mother who passed a few months ago, so she knows exactly what she's taking on. It was all her idea. I'm thankful for that and really happy for Bel.
After first thinking I'd pass on the opportunity, I have been convinced to field a team in the summer college age baseball league at our home park. It's a very competitive league and we have our first game Sunday, June 22. The Youngest & his friend G promised to do the "organizing" (things like collecting checks and making sure the other players know when and where to show up), but they've gotten off to a slow start. I can't complain. I forgot to be talking to the one player I should have contacted. After doing exceptionally well my last five seasons as a GM in the regular 18U league, we got our butts kicked last summer. This time, we've tried to put together a roster with enough pitching to not get so killed this summer. I'll keep y'all posted on that.
I've also been binging on television when I'm not working, having discovered that I can watch TV, tweet on Twitter and feel sorry for myself all at the same time. I watched the whole 3rd season of Weeds On Demand. It took a couple of weekends. We're one episode into the 4th season, and I'm reduced to watching at a rate of one episode per week. Anyway, Season 3 of Weeds introduced a character with Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease (GERD). He burped all the time, not big belches but little burps, often. As a GERD sufferer, it hurt my feelings and made me laugh at the same time (alright, please don't take this to infer in any way that I burp one bit more than the next blogger... and it didn't really hurt my feelings).Then, again On Demand, I watched two seasons of Dexter. It's very dark, but compelling and addictive. In between Weeds and Dexter, I watched HBO's elegant set pieces, John Adams and Recount, most powerful, especially when taken together. I can't help but think that HBO knew exactly what they wanted to say when they released those two pieces in the lead up to a presidential election. Then, they cast Tom Wilkinson as both Ben Franklin and republican strategist James Baker. They're going to air John Adams from start to finish on July 4th, for those of us who might wish to spend the holiday deeply immersed in a history lesson. Cap it off with Recount and it'll put everything in quick, and urgent, perspective.
I needed to spend Saturday night cleaning out the other side of my clothes closet, which is a mess. I got half of it done last weekend. Instead, just to keep up the good cheer, I decided to try again to watch We Are Marshall. I've posted about this before. I was a senior in high school, about to turn 17, living in Huntington, WV on November 14th, 1970 when that happened (It was Atlanta, then Hungtington, then Austin, then back to Atlanta, got it?). I've tried to watch it from the beginning before and had to change the channel. Then I skipped the early part and watched it from when they decide to try to field a team again, and found it comforting. Finally, this time, I was able to watch the whole thing. It made me cry, but in a good way. Moving away and going off to college, I kind of missed the healing part. One moment in the film said it all, when a funeral procession had to stop, to let another funeral procession pass. That's what it was like. That's when I figured out, it can happen to you. It was my hysterical paranoia that took it all the way to and it probably will.
There's been lots of talk this week about the tragic passing of Tim Russert. His memorial service Wednesday ended to the spirit-stirring strains of Hawai'ian Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's magical medly of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World". On his Wednesday night show, MSNBC's Keith Olbermann commented that as the mourners exited, they were greeted to an actual rainbow (or two) arched across the Washington sky. Then he said they were "Stopped in our tracks." Great minds (click the link or just Google, "stopped in my tracks" - read, or just scroll down).
I had a dream last week about the old blind dog. I was driving off and looked into the rear view mirror to see her running after me, a flash of white, as happened so many times in her youth and prime. I pulled over and called her to me, happy to have her company, and she jumped up into the open car door for the ride. Of course, being old and blind that sort of thing doesn't happen anymore. She mostly just lays around and likes to take frequent, short walks. I woke up sad. She's been the very best dog and means the world to me. She's somewhere around 13, found roaming the neighborhood the day after my father died. Saturday, June 21 he would have been 100. I still miss him. Happy Birthday, Daddy.
Finally, and I didn't mean to bury this at the bottom of such a long post (goodness, I do prattle on!), but for both of y'all who are still reading this, I have this juicy gem:
I need to go to the beach. Okay, I'm done. Finished whining. Finished shouting (for now - but mark your calendars). Peace, out, y'all.
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