Caterwauling

I think it’s time to just go back to bed already.

So I got up this morning and put on a pot of coffee (chocolate-cherry beans. Mmmm, good), and that was about the only thing I managed to execute with any success. From there, I proceeded to:

1. Put on a pot of water to boil so I could make some pasta to take to work for lunch.

2. Put the pot of water on one of the three burners that I did NOT turn on.

3. Visited the stove to wonder WTF smelled funny and realized all the water had boiled out of the fucking saucepan.

4. Did my morning workload.

5. Just got off the phone with one of my editors to ask why I hadn’t pushed one of the things live.

6. Pushed it live.

7. Got another call asking why the wrong chart was in the right article.

8. Haaaaaaa.

9. Explained that I am an idiot and I had done all the legwork but that clearly I had experienced a lobotomy overnight. Made the fix within 12 seconds. Realized nobody noticed my mistakes for seven hours and fuck, I should have just slept in.

10. Realized that I forgot my lunch and it’s sitting on the stove where I left it. (Did I turn off that burner?)

Oh, but wait, there’s more. It’s called “Breakfast, or Lack Thereof.”

11. I accidentally grabbed the cat food box from the fridge instead of the cereal.

12. And I poured it into my bowl.

13. AND I poured milk over it.

14. The last of the milk, might I add.

15. It’s noon and I am very hungry right now, come to think of it — I guess that’s why!

BUT THE DAY ISN’T A TOTAL WASH

1. I got a very nice compliment from my boss first thing this morning.

2. I just got a very nice text message from a very nice young man.

And in that, the good always washes away the bad!

El Guapo’s posted a story that reminds of of why we need a day like today:

Seat Change

Whether you’ve got the day off (or you’re me and dragging your feet at going in!), take a moment to realize how much change one individual can effect by daring to be great. Understand why it’s not only proper, but necessary, to commemorate this man and millions like him whose names history has either forgotten or never known.

If we would all follow our hearts and our passions like Dr. King did, and fight for them with all our might, what a different world this would be. …

Editor’s note: You didn’t actually think I could stay away for long, could you now?

I’ve always known so many people who break their arms to pat themselves on the back. Shit, they’d break off YOUR arm to pat themselves, too.

I understand it’s a tenet of the Christian faith — not to mention, it’s a family value of mine — to just do for others. Whether they know the kindness came from you or, hell, that it was done at all. Just knowing you helped someone is reward enough. It’s something you just do, then forget as soon as possible. There are no scorecards, no paying back favors (within reason, of course, because there’s always one asswipe in the crowd who will bleed you dry just as long as you keep serving them) — heck, no waiting to be asked.

I am surrounded by those types of people now.

And I wish I could tell them that I know about their good deeds — I don’t know how to thank people who would never admit to being so good to me even if I asked them, because they’d deny it. But I want to let them know that they made my holiday season bright.

It makes me happy to know that I was worthy of such kindness. It not only restores my faith in humanity, but also my faith in me. I am the type of person to do small, random things with nary a second thought about them. And for the first time in my life, I’ve met people just like my family.

And with my (biological) family so small now, I’m thrilled to count so many friends as so much more than that. It makes me want to pay it forward next time around, because the truly good people in this world not only don’t want/need a thank-you, but they expect that you’ll carry on their legacy and perpetuate it instead of paying it back.

But if ever they should need a hand, I hope I’m the first one to notice … and to provide.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to become coldhearted and miserable — it can be an easy trap to fall into, what with all the hardships everyday life brings. But my beloved grandfather who is no longer with us (goddamned VA — they practically admitted to neglecting him. His death was so senseless and untimely, and I wish nothing more than for his so-called caregivers there to suffer an equally cruel and painful demise) would never want for me to become anything other than he was — a saint, in my estimation. Someone who smiled through the pain and brought joy at every opportunity. Someone grateful for all things big and small, who cannot be remembered as anything but just a lovely, lovely human being whose generosity and love is unparalleled.

Not only am I glad no one has jeopardized the goodness he instilled in me, but I know that if there is any peace he can achieve where he is now (as I worry that he wasn’t ready to leave us and that he resisted the white light), it’s that my friends have treated me the way he would have, were he still here.

So thank you, my Secret Santas, most of all for making my grandfather proud and honoring his memory in the best way anyone could. 🙂

You know you work with truly selfless, wonderful men when you declare that you are looking for something to hang yourself with and, without thinking, one goes to take off his tie to hand it to you. (To his credit, he realized after the fact what my intentions were and refused to help. Damn!) But doesn’t that say to you that your boys will do anything to help you, if only you just ask? 😉

In other news, I have a dentist’s appointment today. Finally! I had written to cancel the appointment that the 1-800-Dentist people had set up, given that it wasn’t till the end of the week. Stupid me, I had ASSUMED the hotline people had conveyed to them that I was in so much pain, I could barely speak. Hah. Turns out, the original dentist contacted me back to say that they were very sorry to learn that I was in pain — they would NEVER have made me wait if they had known that. Further, they extended an invitation to get my ass over there ASAP for immediate treatment.

Note to the wise: Don’t call a hotline under the auspices of them actually helping you. I’d gone on the 1-800-Dentist Web site, and it had said if this is an emergency, call this number. But all they did was leave a fucking message somewhere for me and clearly didn’t convey the reason WHY I was looking for a dentist on that particular Sunday. Sheesh. And here I was thinking what an asshole the dentist must be to treat an emergency so carelessly. I’d been so pissed off that I just started calling all my colleagues’ dentists till I found the one with the closest appointment time. Which I could/should have just done in the first place! Gah!

I had gone into my office yesterday under the auspices of, oh, catching up from being gone for so long, but all I ended up doing was cleaning a little bit. The office had gone unused so it was dusty and dust + Goddess does not a happy nose make.

So anyway, I came in this morning to find, on my clean little glass table, a Christmas tree!

My comrade/colleague/buddy had brought it in and plugged it into the extension cord I happened to have under it — I knew exactly who was responsible for it and went and hugged him immediately. He said his wife had given it to him for me — they’d been so sad to hear me declare that I was having no Christmas and they said everybody deserves a Christmas.

Today was the first time my tears flowed freely, but were full of joy instead of sadness.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. …

Today we buried my grandfather. It is the saddest and unquestionably worst day of my life.

The extended Manson Family has been in town and let me tell you, the wrong member of this family is in that casket. I plan to do a password-protected entry on the assholes who keep butting in, calling shots and otherwise making my mother crazy, but today is not about them.

And after today, it never will be again. He was our only tie to them, and they didn’t know him or love him like we did. The loss is theirs, but they don’t realize it.

We had a viewing last night. Nearly 100 people came out to give my Grampy a last round of hugs and kisses. You couldn’t rip me away from the coffin — what I miss most is hugging him and smelling like his cologne (Boss). And my Mom, a perfectionist till the very end, had our funeral director friend spray him liberally. It will be the last time I hug my Grampy. It will be the last time I smell like him all day.

It may very well be the last time I can function in life without a therapist.

The good thing about the funeral director being your friend is that he went above and beyond for us — he was the only one outside of a small group of wonderful friends who loved my grandfather with all their hearts who cared that Mom and I had just lost the most important person in our lives.

Our friend even sat with Grampy while we weren’t able to be there. He has known us for a decade, at least, and always loved coming over to hang with my family. (He took care of my grandmother’s funeral seven years ago, so he’s a big part of our lives.) He was more broken up about losing our beloved little man more than his stupid brothers were (I asked him to read my eulogy and he sobbed through the whole thing). What he said about hanging out with Grampy in the funeral home was how much he missed having him talking back.

He’s not the only one. That house is so empty without him. He’s everywhere, yet nowhere to be found.

Until someone tells me this was all a joke (and I saw the coffin be lowered and the vault be closed — it took that for me to believe it), I guess I’m going to have to learn to live with the guilt that we couldn’t save him and the fear that he hasn’t yet crossed over, because he wanted so badly to be with us and just wasn’t ready to go.

I had told my grandmother weeks ago (in my mind, as she always seems like she’s with me) to let us keep him for awhile longer. Once she got him back, she’d have him for eternity — all we were asking for were a few more years.

But, alas, he’s going back to her. I always suspected he was the one who loved more in that relationship, and I hope she was ready to have him with her again. All the man ever wanted was love — I am certain a thousand angels were thrilled to have them join their team, as he has enough love to take care of millions of people. But his two angels down here would rather be able to hug him just one more time. …

In any event, my mere meanderings here do not do this man a whit of justice, so here’s the goodbye I shared today:

CALVIN COOLIDGE (MANSON)
Feb. 24, 1926 – Nov. 27, 2006

It’s been almost a week since the world went flat, yet we’re all forever changed because we were lucky enough to know – and be loved by – my grandfather Cal.

My Grampy brought so much life, love, hope and joy to everyone around him, no matter how much his body was hurting him. He was everybody’s hero and friend, and he was the best friend in the world to me. And the world – our world – feels like it has stopped without him.

Grampy was a king among men – a man’s man, of course, but it was the women in his life who couldn’t help but fall in love with him, time and again. My grandmother Rose, my mother Robin and I have always been the center of his world. Never a day would pass without great big bear hugs, showers of whiskery kisses, fresh-picked flowers he found in the yard and an endless stream of compliments – he never missed a chance to tell us how pretty he thought we were, how much he loved the meals he was served, how lucky he was to have us, and how proud he was of us.

When I remember him – and the true tragedy is that seeing him in my mind is all I can do now – I see him with those sparkling blue eyes, illuminated with joy and his arms outstretched. He always called Mom and me his babies, his angels, his beautiful girls. He always told me he was going to cover himself with glue so that the next time he hugged me, I’d be stuck to him forever and ever – and he’d get to go with me wherever I went. And now, he always will.

While I’m glad he’s in a place where no one can hurt him anymore, it’s neither right nor fair that we are here today to mourn his passing – this man had more than enough life, love and spirit in him to last another 20 years, at least. Today we should have instead welcomed the opportunity to tell him, just one more time, how much we loved him back.

Every day held magic for him … and it was magical because of him. He enjoyed sunny days on his porch, having a cigarette and feeding the birds and neighborhood pets that gravitated to him. He smiled at strangers, lent a hand to friends at every opportunity (and always unasked), and influenced or perhaps even changed thousands more lives than those of the people in this room.

I could tell you a million wonderful stories about this man, but we’d be here forever, and we need to let him get “on the road again” to see his Rosie Girl. Besides, every story I have to tell turns out the same: Someone was in need, and he came to our rescue. He performed superhuman feats to make things right – or right again. The work he did as a friend, neighbor, brother, uncle, husband, father and grandfather brought him honor as well as joy.

The thing with Grampy is that he was fueled by being generous, and knowing he’d made a difference in someone’s world. I’ll never know how hard things might have been, or what he went without having, to ensure that we had a good life. And we did – his affection was genuine, his love unconditional, his appreciation of our time boundless. And even now, he wanted nothing more than to come home to us, to keep taking care of us as only he could.

I can’t remember exactly when his hair started to turn gray or the pain started to worsen, but he was never more alive than he was this past year. He loved his pretty house, his guitar, the road trips he and Mom took to see me, and just the wonder in everyone and everything — that all kept him young. He wrote songs whenever he could and lived each day the best way he knew how.

One of the many wonderful things about him is that no matter how much he was hurting, he never missed an opportunity to light up for anyone who needed a smile – he never seemed to run out of those. You couldn’t help but love him – it was downright impossible not to.

The world seems so empty and somber without him in it, as he was such a magnanimous presence. It’s hard to believe he’s really gone from this plane of existence, but the impact of the goodness he exhibited, and the love and respect he generated, will be felt for generations to come.

And in that, we will always have proof that he was once here and the world was once right.

Sleep tight, Papa Bear.

Along with the promotion, I’m getting a window office. Yes! Although it has been threatened that the windows will be painted because you usually find me in my little cubby, holed up in the dark.

I have five lamps and one overhead light, and it’s usually regarded as the terror threat alert system — if I’ve got all the lights on, that’s usually a “stay the hell away from Goddess” day. But with natural light? No one’s going to know when NOT to come and talk to me! 😉

(Just kidding — I’ve got a revolving door just in case there’s some good gossip coming ’round!)

It’s a tiny cubby of an office but one with a lovely little corner in which I can buy some cheap excuse of Swedish craftsmanship upon which to plant my ass — I’m already envisioning closing the door, kicking off the heels and doing some writing.

It’s a good day in the World of Goddess.

I wish I could say the same for my grandfather, who was forcibly ripped from Good Hospital the night before I left for Vegas and has been abused and tortured repeatedly ever since and I’ve been too heartsick to pick up the phone when Mom calls to report the latest drama. It seems like I’m the one getting all the good luck in the family right now, and believe me, I’ll take it, but I just wish some of my good karma could be shared with those who could use something to believe in right now. …

There’s nothing sweeter than hearing your 3-year-old niece squeal “Congratulations!” into the phone …

… Well, I guess there is something sweeter — the fact that she said it because I just got a promotion! And the all-staff memo reads like an Academy Award ceremony introduction. Wow.

*cabbage patch dancing around my office*

“There is magic all around you
If I do say so myself
I have known this much longer than I’ve known you.”

— Stevie Nicks, “Rooms on Fire”

I was just about to go into what turned out to be a really good meeting when my mom called to put my grandfather on the phone with me. Joy! I couldn’t understand him very well but he sounded almost buoyant — like he’s not in absolutely chronic pain per usual and that the “real” hospital is agreeing with him. He could barely hear me so I apologize to everyone in my hallway who heard me shouting into the cell phone.

I know Mercury moves out of retrograde Saturday, but I’ll take an early miracle, especially when it comes to him. Yay!

And there’s other magic in the air, and it feels like it’s surrounding me right at this very moment. Not sure what, when, where or why, but it’s there. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of patience to be exercised and strife to be endured in the interim, but today, I’m donning the rose-colored glasses. It’s fun to shine again!