Caterwauling

I’m still mad at the world over Lauren. I mean, if someone so beautiful and kind and smart doesn’t feel like she deserves to live, I mean what the fuck are the rest doing here?

I was pontificating that when I got my answer.

Lauren left the world … and Summer was born.

Just like when Alyson died … Fiona arrived.

Just like when my friend’s mom passed, her cousin had a baby just minutes later.

I don’t mean to say there’s a finite number of souls available. It’s just that the void they leave behind always closes quickly.

I mean, after Leanne died, her would-be fiancé went on to marry a nice girl and have three babies.

But it’s the other things that happen afterward — that might have happened anyway if you hadn’t lost someone — the things maybe that you NOTICE that can define entire days.

I’ll give you another set of random coincidences.

Another busy day. I didn’t have time, but I ran to the post office. There, I had full intentions on running next door to play the lottery. And yet when I came out, I totally blanked and just walked toward my favorite lunch place.

The place I had told one of my BFFs about just yesterday.

I hadn’t seen her in a while. But when I walked in, THERE SHE WAS.

We talked for a good half-hour. It was divine.

Sure I came back to the ever-mounting pile. But it’s OK. I have a lot more pep in my heavy-hearted step than I did an hour earlier. And that will help me to hopefully sail through the things I’ve got to somehow get done by day’s end.

At least, in enough time to get back and buy my chance to win those millions.

In glancing back at those blog posts, I always do or want to do something big to commemorate the light that went out. Leanne inspired my move to Florida. Alyson inspired me to take care of my health (down 30 pounds total. WHAT).

As for Lauren’s legacy in my life, I don’t know yet. I want to move to Orlando. Or at least out of Braddock Beach.

I want love. The real, throw you up against a wall and make you feel every pore in your body tingle kind. I know most boys (and all of MY boys) want the girl who won’t leave them — the one who will be home waiting because she can’t or won’t try to do any better. They don’t want the one with her soul on fire who they have to work hard to keep.

I don’t know that there IS anyone out there who COULD work that hard for me. Or would. God knows I’ve been wondering when one of these guys would show up at PBI with the sense somehow knocked into them.

In any event. I want the happiest place on earth to be wherever I’m at.

Lauren, I owe you that.

And I’ll try to find the peace you pretended to have but could never really find.

Sigh.

One of my old colleagues died.

And lest you think “old” and “long life lived,” let me correct that mindset.

She was young and beautiful and blonde and full of life and always always ALWAYS had a sweet smile and comment for everyone.

We haven’t seen each other in years. But she liked a lot of my Facebook photos and left thoughtful and kind comments when the mood struck. Which, given how beautiful and kind and popular and world-traveler-y as she was, was surprisingly often.

I am super-sad I didn’t get to know her as well as I could.

BUT …

There were a whole bunch of shitheads who were turned off by her beauty. Granted, she didn’t exactly dress in traditional office-wear. She always looked like she was one clothing item away from stripping and going to the beach.

I loved that about her.

She didn’t see her beauty. I mean, maybe she did. But she seemed to love life and it loved her right on back.

Her sister had a baby a few years back. And the baby’s father died very young. So my friend packed up everything and went to be with them. That’s how good a person she is.

I heard she was coming back to town not just a week ago. She checked in from someplace in northern Florida. I figured she was on her way.

She never made it. And, from what I’m gathering, that was her own choice.

I. Am. NOT. OK.

I reached out to the friend who introduced us. I said I can’t picture this crazy world without her helping to make it turn.

Maybe he’ll tell me more. Or confirm what I hope I don’t really know.

Either way.

Lauren, sending you SO MUCH LOVE from our old office in Delray Beach.

Too little too late. But it was always there.

Everyone else, “love the one you’re with” if you must. But maybe just maybe grow a set and love the one you REALLY love — and let them know it and FEEL IT.

You’d be real surprised to know they might have been hoping you’d say just that all along.

Having one of those moments where I want to wish someone well, but hoping they know it without me having to say it. 

Part of me is envious. But you know when someone worked hard for something. It’s not my path; it’s theirs. 

And somehow reaching out, I feel, would suck me back in. At least on the periphery. 

I’ll always be rooting for them. And I expect the same in return. The universe hears prayers. Sometimes I feel like the prayers of others for you are louder, just like I feel like my good wishes for others seem to come to fruition sooner. 

At least I hope that’s the case. If so, we should all lift each other up a whole lot more. 

Maddie was born 20 years ago today. I still keep this photo next to my bed. 

Miss you, kitten. So very glad you were mine. 

Yesterday was sunny with a seven-hour stretch of clusterfuck thanks to a city-wide internet outage and a sketchy backup network. 

I mean I’m used to writing and researching on my phone because my computer sucks. But damn at least then I have wifi. 

Thanks to two great friends who helped me all day, and thanks to other friends who made the night worth celebrating, I ain’t got no complaints. 

I do still have some bad, hard things hanging over me that I have to deal with asap if not sooner. But for now, let me enjoy my coffee and my Irish car bomb hangover and the sweet, sweet silence of non-urgency for just five minutes. 

There’s a Hillary event on Grampy’s birthday this week. I think he would love it if I went. Voting together was our thing. 

It’s been 10 years that he’s been gone and I still can’t believe it. 

Took mom to his favorite restaurant yesterday. Unfortunately the closest one is in Port St. Lucie and it sucks every year that we go. 

Of course, the last time I made plans on a weeknight, I lost more than $70 because of the usual. 

Got to thinking about all the times mom and Grampy would drive two hours each way to meet me in Breezewood, Pa., for lunch every now and then. At that same restaurant. 

It was always so good, the visit and the food. I loved seeing them without me having to drive all the way to Pittsburgh from Alexandria or Rockville for a too-short weekend. 

Mom reminded me how Grampy used to sneak away to smoke and watch the cows. I usually stayed with mom. 

Even though I was a smoker, I knew it triggered her allergies so I didn’t do it. And I lectured him about it. 

What I wouldn’t give to have 10 minutes back, to spend with him over a smoke and a Starbucks out in the fields …

So I got to hang with Bill Clinton yesterday. 

Omg wow. 

  
I last saw him in 1992 in Market Square in Pittsburgh. Pre-cell phone cameras. Before I voted for him twice. 

I’ve been to Hillary events in D.C. Never got close to her. But that’s ok. I voted for her once and I will damn sure do it again. And again. 

And how mind-blowing to go to a Hillary event in Palm Beach and be in the third row to watch her husband speak?

He’s still magnetic. Still makes eye contact with absolutely everyone. Still knows how to hit you in the feels — which he did before that phrase was even a thing. 

I have a million photos. Which I will share in time. I got a lot of other local politicians too so I want to make a little yearbook entry, if you will. 

 But what I need to write about is this. 

I had to police my Facebook comments all day on the few photos I put up. 

I made my photos public. So I shouldn’t be surprised to get anti-Hillary sentiments from people I’ve never met or even friended. 

I was surprised that more people didn’t like my pics of a former U.S. president. Shocked, really. 

  
I get that you’re not fans of prosperity and the era of the balanced budget. Whatever dudes. 

Sadly, I get three times as many likes on a sunset or a picture of a hot dog. 

But the tiny handful of comments that were not fabulous and actually critical of not just people I support but the FORMER FIRST FAMILY, PEOPLE … Cheesus. 

I ain’t the Bushes’ biggest fan, true. But I would shake their hands if I could. That would be pretty historic and I’d want to show grace. Because, that’s the right (and cool) thing to do. 

I mean, politics is my passion. What I do all day is interesting. But damn this is MY Super Bowl. 

And if you’re going to vote for the political equivalent of the New England Patriots, I’m terribly sorry you haven’t reached my enlightenment but kindly don’t shit on it. 

I got to hang with Bill Clinton, yo. Respect. 

 
Tired but happy after standing for SIX HOURS. #imwithher 

I had already knocked out three projects today before anyone else located their left nut. Or sock. Whichever.  

My to-do list is huge. And I’m still sore that I couldn’t attend the events I BOUGHT TICKETS FOR on Friday. It started at six and I was done after 7. 

RAGE. 

But a funny thing happened that night. 

“Undercover Boss” was coming on at 8. They were featuring Marco’s Pizza. So I decided I wanted my tomato and spinach pizza from Marco’s. Which is divine. 

The parking lot was overflowing. So I parked by a business that I’d never seen before. And I decided to visit it on Saturday. 

Saturday morning, I went in and was told to come back later to see Heather, who couldn’t get her shit together to be there on time. 

I came back and no Heather. But then I met Gabe. 

And true to his name, this dude was sent from heaven. 

I don’t really want to get into it here. But work dry-humping my free time yet again led to an honest-to-goodness miracle taking place. 

I haven’t felt this at peace in quite some time. It gives me faith that things you want are possible. I have been quietly praying and believing and improving my karma. 

And just like that, it worked. 

I am humbled. 

I’ve been paying Weight Watchers forever.  With a lot of success. When I’m committed to it. 

Anyway I am still a member. And there was a members-only call with Oprah tonight. Which was awesome and I could pontificate over many experiences we share. 

But the most interesting part was when Oprah spoke fondly of her right-hand gal. 

I know her. We went to high school together. She was a year behind me and I also adored her younger sister. 

For fun I sent her a short, heartfelt message to tell her I always knew she would go far. She thanked me almost immediately. 

She said she was sitting across from Oprah when my message came through. 

What a fun little connection to rekindle in a very sweet way!

I was going to post about the lady who blared her horn at me at a red light today. When I was fourth in line behind a bus. Sigh. 

But I’d rather talk about the nice guy who, when I was crossing a street yesterday, called out, “Be careful!”

I was walking west and he was headed south.  He saw a car flying  (I’d gander going 55 in a 25) and about to careen on two wheels around my corner  where I was crossing. 

I ran as fast as I could and yelled out “Thank you!” And waved when I was safe. 

I am quick to hate the drivers and neighbors I encounter. But it’s heartwarming to know there are kind people here too. 

I used to think snowbirds were the problem. God knows tourists mucked up the flow when I was in D.C. 

Visitors aren’t the problem here.  It’s the douchebags who have set up residence in my county, for the most part. 

Give me a tourist any old day.  Better yet, get me away from the other residents and it’ll all be just fine.