Confessions of a One-Track Mind

Had a guest speaker at church today who was very good. The topic was "June Bugs", and it was a light-hearted talk about how things that "bug" us can keep us from attaining inner peace.

Considering the generally evil mood I've been in of late, it struck home. I have enough heavy-duty shit going on that I shouldn't let myself get so wound up about rotten drivers and sundry superfluous bullshit. *breathe in, breathe out, breathe...*

Why is it that when I'm flipping channels and run across a movie I've seen umpteen times, even if I actually own it on DVD, I'll stop and watch it, commercials and all? It happened twice today. How many times have I seen Flight of the Phoenix (the remake). A bunch. Enough that I've written four fanfics for it. And I *still* get all choked up and dewy-eyed at the ending.

Also came across Jumpin' Jack Flash, 1986, Whoopie Goldberg's first film...and had a shitstorm of nostalgia about the first time I saw it. 1986 was the year after my dad died...I was between jobs, with money to fall back on, and one fine day, I showed up at Susie's around noon, and somehow, she talked me into doing Southern Comfort shots with her. Between that and a few puffs, pretty soon we were feeling no pain.

We both liked Whoopie from her HBO specials, and we wanted to see her movie, but we were sane enough to realize we shouldn't be driving. So we called Susie's mom and promised to pay her way and buy her lunch afterward if she'd drive us to the theater.

I was entertained. When we got out, we went to Susie's mom's favorite restaurant, a Chinese joint called the Rickshaw, which has since closed, alas. They did an excellent egg foo yung, and ours had just gotten to the table when Susie turned green and bolted from the restaurant. Her mother and I enjoyed our meals while Susie took refuge in the car, occasionally yarking out onto the asphalt. I was fine, but then, I had eight inches and about fifty pounts on her.

She had a job a year or so later, showing model homes in a ritzy new development. She got bounced because she kept a bottle of Bailey's in her desk, she *said* to offer guests. (Which even then I thought was a crummy excuse: All the customer would need to renege on a deal would be to say the saleswoman got them drunk....) Bailey's in her coffee was a favorite, but her alcohol dependence didn't surface for another couple of decades, and by then, it was mixed up with hormones (from going through the change), digestive problems from TWO gastric bypass surgeries (she ate her way back up after the first one), and a massive Ambien habit (which is why everyone was sure she'd OD'ed). And because she was such a special snowflake, Susie never thought she had a problem; there was always someone or something else to blame for her difficulties.

Oh, the pet peeves I could list about Susie! But what good would it do? How does that old proverb go? "Of the dead, speak only what was good."? Something along those lines. Much easier to do with an angel like Kat, whose death wasn't unexpected; the issues were all resolved, and besides, she was an angel.

Susie's death was sudden; nothing was resolved, and she was surely no angel. Still, she was smart and funny and could be generous. If everyone creates their own heaven, I imagine her zooming down the road to the Florida Keys in a convertable with the top down. She's wearing a flirty little tropical print sundress. Jimmy Buffet is blasting on the stereo, and the car is populated with all the dogs she loved: Macs and Stormy and Mariah and Grover that I know of. The dogs all lean out the windows, eagerly sniffing the sea breeze, Whereever Susie is, I really hope she's at peace.

Was out all day at a doggy event with J. A new animal wellness clinic was baving an open house. Per her orders, I was there at 8AM to stake out a good spot in the shade...J didn't show for another five minutes, and when she did, she had her useless friend with her.

They go back a long time, which is admirable, but I don't like her, if for no other reason than her snide comments. She gets in the way, then when I step back, comments about how she's doing all the work while other people (meaning me) are sitting on their ass. This conveniently overlooks the fact that she departs midway through the event to take her offspring to his music lesson---meaning J and I have to do tear-down by ourselves.

But hey, the up side to it was, J took me out for barbecue; I got enough of a doggy bag for brunch tomorrow. Then we went back to her place and saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part One. God, that was LONG. Longer than the book, which I found interminable. At just under 2.5 hours, it felt like 3.5---I hope the final one is more digestable.

Also picked up an interesting factoid...at the event, another friend of J's, this one somebody she knows from dog training, asked her if they'd ever found out what her mom died of. As it turns out, it was *not* an OD, which I think we were all fairly well convinced it was. No, it was fatty liver disease. I'd never heard of it, but a quick look at Wikipedia confirms that she had a couple conditions that would've put her at risk. And yet, she had no symptoms, and none of the tests done during multiple hospitalizations for other complaints ever showed anything.

Now that she's gone, I find myself remembering Susie as she used to be, and wishing I could talk to her, the rational her. I feel like death should have hit the reset button, and she should have defaulted to the witty and wonderful friend she was for so many years. I know, it doesn't work like that, and even if it did, there were plenty of times when "I Used to Love Her, But I Had to Kill Her" was my theme song for her. I still miss her, though.

Okay, now I'm going to crawl into bed. I may or may not blow off church in the morning, because I'm knackered, and I'd *really* like to sleep in.
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About 24 hours left at Chez C. I'll miss the air-conditioning. I won't miss the rock-hard bed. I love the neighborhood and the location, I miss the sense of "It's my home, I can do whatever I want.". (Like playing with the crafting supplies, of which there are much here. *whimper*) My kitchen is a third the size of this one, but I'm too intimidated to do much cooking. And it will be good to be back at my own desk.

I did duck home the other day to check my mail...there was a "please call" notice about a foreign-registered package. This proved to be a goodie bag from kukkurkurat: Hair jewelery and a manicure kit and a book and a notebook* and a pretty card. Yay! It FINALLY got through customs---the card is dated January. (Thank you, Sweetie!)

Lengthy schmooze with Mb last night; she has quit Ahab. His dementia has gotten more pronounced; he's accused her of theft and since he can't remember what he had for lunch, claims that he hasn't been fed. She's sacrificed herself for the last 10 months taking care of him and his affairs, and she's DONE. About damn time, I say. I've missed my Mb!

Interesting things also going on with J---T has given us Susie's clothes, which we're to sell on eBay and split the profit, and all her ceramics. Susie was never what I'd call a clothes horse; I'm not holding my breath about that stuff, but the ceramics?! Kiln, pouring table, molds, greenware, bisque, glazes and underglazes---it's basically everything you'd find at a commercial ceramics studio, but in this case, it's taken over a two-car garage, a sunporch, and a backyard shed.

A friend of hers used to have a ceramics business, and is going to advise us. We're hoping to sell to local studios, possibly take orders for custom dog bowls at some of our events---and it's been a few years since I've done anything ceramic, since Susie wasn't active---I'm just looking forward to playing with paints and mud. The three of us went over there yesterday to take a look...the two surviving schnauzers went berserk for the first 20 minutes or so that we were there, then settled down.

The place definitely has the look of a domicile of a lone male, batching it. Poor T. He's in his mid-50s, and this is his first real loss. (His parents and sibs are all alive and kicking.) He and Susie were together for 30 years. By contrast, I met her in 1982---but I had experience with loss even before that---my mom having died in 1976. I miss the person Susie used to be, before the pills took over. She could be exasperating at times, but damn, she was fun, too.

We get a fresh SPN tonight, huzzah.

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* Elephant grease?! Weird and wonderful, I love it!

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