Category: grief

I Left My Heart….

Wait. Where did I leave my heart?

If you are a Twitter type of person and you follow my tweets, you may have gotten some of-the-moment tweeting about what I’m about to describe.

There was an “incident” upon my departure from New Mexico about three weeks ago. I’ve tried to brush it off, but I find I cannot. I’m rather shaken to my core.

The executive summary is this: I got my heart broke by an eight year old girl.

And I may never recover properly.

I flew out to New Mexico for one of the annual “Chick’s Trips” that my best friend and I love to put together.

I came in on a Thursday afternoon and my friend picked me up at the airport. Earlier that day, her husband had taken their two daughters, my goddaughters, on a camping trip. He was out spotting elk for an upcoming hunt His girls are avid outdoors women, so they are able to help.

Fabulous. That meant some one-on-one girl time with my best friend in the world.

There was cussing. There was discussing. There was a trip to the Ruidoso Downs.

Big fun!

We all got back my friend’s house in Las Cruces on Sunday afternoon. I had to fly out Monday.

So Sunday evening I got to have some quality time with my little girls (who are not so little anymore).

I had a chance to chat with the older of the two, she’s ten, and has had some troubles with another girl at school. I wanted to make sure that going into fifth grade, she was holding up ok.

I got to sit next to the younger of the two, she’s eight, at dinner.

The next morning, the eight year old asked me to go on a walk with her out to look at her flowers in her yard. I told her I would be happy to.

As time will do, it went all slippery and got away from us. Nina Karen didn’t get her walk in with the younger goddaughter.

This all came to a head at the El Paso airport. We arrived a bit early and my kids wanted to come inside the airport to see me off.

Without delay, my younger goddaughter began insisting to her mom that she needed to come with me on the plane.

Her mom told her that she couldn’t come with me.

“But why!?!?” was the inevitable reply.

What followed was a long and persistent debate between mom and child about, logically, why she couldn’t just get on the plane and come home with me.

Then the tears began in earnest. My younger goddaughter began sobbing.

And that’s when the truth started pouring out….

“You and Nina Karen always go off somewhere and we never get to go!”

Early on, my friend laid down some age requirements for chick’s trips. Plus, sometimes Mama just needs a break.

“We always have to go with dad and you get to go have fun!”

Which isn’t very nice to the dad who is lots of fun. But he’s a boy and boy fun is different.

“Nina Karen always comes out here and we never get to go to California.”

Well, sure. Since I don’t have little ones, and I get awful homesick, I do tend to fly that way a bit more often.

“Other than her name, I don’t even know Nina Karen!”

Ok, that one hurt. That’s so not true, and she later apologized for having said it. But in that moment, she broke my heart.

She wasn’t done by a long shot.

I held my baby girl in my arms as she cried and cried, her tiny body racked with sobs. Of course, I started crying too. Then her mom was bawling. And her big sister was crying from the get go.

Four weepy girls all clutched together at the El Paso Airport.

I apologized to my girl and through tears she said she forgave me.

After a while, her sobs began to slow down. Then, time went and got us again. The long hand moved too quickly on the clock face, and it was time for me to leave.

I had to go home. But which home? My California home because The Good Man waited for me there. He is my heart.

But that little crying girl is also my heart.

I’ve never felt so torn between two places in all my life. It literally felt like being ripped in two.

I cried all the way through the security line, and the TSA man shooed me along.

Then I cried all the way through the terminal.

I used my phone to call my husband to tell him what happened, and started sobbing even harder.

With every tear, my heart broke a little bit more. Ground glass under a bootheel.

I’m not sure yet how I’m going to try to make this right.

My best friend is working on a road trip out here, maybe, to cut costs and make it easier for them all to come out here to California.

I’m working over in my mind a plan to go back to New Mexico. But when? Our weekends are booked through Labor Day.

I just know that I am as heartbroke today as I was three weeks ago.

The Hispanic culture embraces a concept called “Comadres”. Co-Mothers. Best friends are like mothers to each others children.

I don’t have kids of my own, but actually, I do. Those two girls are as dear to me as if I’d birthed them from my own body. I feel their pain, I revel in their joy. I would sacrifice for them with nary a thought.

Nina Karen has got to make things right.

I’ll tell you this, I’ll never again miss the chance to take a walk with my girls just to look at the flowers.

“Las Comadres,” a painting by Juana Alicia.

Sometimes These Things Happen

As the world continues to turn, I sometimes find it necessary to put out updates to recently published posts.

Things change, you know how it goes.

So let’s recall my post giving love to the label makers.

We turn now to the first week of my new gig. On day one, I was informed of the “corporate culture of cost savings.”

Once fully briefed on how much cheap is appreciated, I was directed to the office supply cabinet to see what I could dredge up. I had to “make it work” before any new orders would be approved.

Well, that’s fine by me. I’m a big fan of office supplies, even used office supplies, so I dove right in.

I found a very usable Swingline stapler, a tape dispenser, a new box of binder clips and though I had to dig around a bit, but I also found a staple puller.

So far so good!

There, in the back of the drawer, piled under a stack of notebooks and used binders, I found this fella:

It’s a…a…*gasp*…LABEL MACHINE!

Right there. In the supply drawer. An orphan! Just waiting for a nice girl like me to take it and clean it up and love it like a good label making machine deserves to be loved!

I snagged it up, clutched it to my heart and spirited it away to my office.

There was even a half-full label tape cartridge in there! Yes!

I plugged it in and gave it a test drive.

But this is where the story gets sad.

It would appear that this ol’ soldier has seen better days.

Despite the flashy “black on gold” label tape in there (how disco!), it seems that the little turn wheels that push the tape through the printer are busted.

In short, he cannot make any more labels.

I tried to fix it. Even busted down office supplies deserve their due!

No luck.

We just have to let him go gently into that good night. He can now go and rest easy where the old and broken office equipment goes to die. Some call it office recycling, I call it a final resting place.

Goodbye big fella! I know once you made labels that shined like the sun. It’s time to hang up the ol’ cartridge and call it a day.

*sniff* He was a hero to manila files everywhere.

.
.
.
.

So…do you think this means I can order a new one…….?

The Great Dr. Pepper Incident

One of the perks of my new gig is that they make a large selection of soft drinks available for free to employees.

Now, this would be nice, except….

Several years ago, I gave up all soft drinks, both regular and diet.

They’re just not good fer the ol’ rig, ya know? Bad stuff, lots of chemicals, extra calories and such.

So except for a splash of ginger ale now and again to float a shot of Maker’s Mark, I don’t drink sodas.

But I have to say, free is pretty tempting, right?

I noted in the cooler, there were some chilled to perfection Dr. Peppers looking at me like the last puppy in the pet store.

When I was a kid, I adored Dr. Pepper. To me, it was nectar of the gods.

So yesterday, day two of the new job, I decided to cave and have myself a free Dr. Pepper.

Well.

Yuck.

I mean, p’tooie, bleah, barf, YUCK!

I took two sips and poured the rest out.

It didn’t taste good. I’m sure some of that is due to the fact I just don’t drink sodas anymore.

But you know what? I think A LOT of my reaction was that stuff from my childhood just doesn’t taste the same or even good anymore.

Over this past weekend, I tried a Little Debbie Star Crunch.

That also tasted not at all like I’d wanted it to.

You know what I blame?

Corn syrup.

Ok, this isn’t going to be a rant about corn syrup and how bad it is for you. It could be, but it isn’t.

I’m just going to say this. Good ol’ fashioned delicious cane sugar and corn syrup are NOT the same thing. The taste, the texture, the consistency, NOT THE SAME.

I blame corn syrup, which is in EVERYTHING these days, for the fact that none of the foods and beverages that I so loved in my youth taste like they should.

One could argue that as I have aged, my taste buds have changed, and there is some validity to that.

But that doesn’t let pesky corn syrup off the hook.

Nope.

Then, just to add insult to injury, after I took two drinks of a Dr. Pepper and threw it out, I had heartburn for the rest of the day.

It just ain’t right.

Dear Mother Nature,

As you know, over the years you and I have enjoyed an especially close relationship. You bring me the sun and the ocean and endless blue skies. You are in charge of all that is outdoors that I love and enjoy.

And you do a fine job of it, don’t get me wrong.

Being a woman as you are, we all know that we ladies can be prone to *moods*, and that is to be expected. Fickle moods. Cranky moods. Just…moods.

Over the years I’ve forgiven a lot of your more extreme bouts of moodiness.

Remember the time I had to dive into a wet alfalfa field because you struck the telephone pole I was walking past with a big blast of lightening?

Yeah. I forgave.

Remember I cried my eyes out in the winter of 1997 (that so called El Niño winter) because I thought it would never stop raining?

Remember that time I drove to Silver City, New Mexico on the hottest day of the year? My car was overheating, so I had to turn on the heater to help keep it cool enough to finish the trip, and when I arrived, I realized I’d sweated through all of my clothing?

That wasn’t fun.

But I’ve been able to let by gones be by gones.

You are entitled to be a little whimsical now and again. Heck, enjoy yourself!

But this year…well, I think it’s time we have a serious talk.

You *might* need to seek professional help for this schizophrenic behavior you are exhibiting.

It’s sunny, it’s rainy, it’s too hot, then it’s too cold.

You can’t seem to make up your mind, alternating between sunny and rainy on a given day!

Ma’am, today is the frapping twenty seventh day of May.

May. You remember? Spring?

When the birds sing and the sun shines and a (straight) young man’s fancy turns towards young ladies in short skirts?

No one wears short skirts in the drenching rain!

Um. Look. I just did my toes and they are a fabulous shade of melon pink. I want to show them off.

When it’s fiercely raining and yes, HAILING outside, I can’t show of my fabulously painted toes because they are covered by my wellies.

Ok, look. I understand that living in Northern California means ya gotta accept the rain. I get that. But c’mon! Can’t you give a desert born and raised girl a break?

And let’s talk about my friends in places like Utah and Colorado who are getting SNOW?

Look sister, you need to get a hold of yourself!

Might I remind you that this weekend is Memorial Day? Hot dogs and cookouts and the beginning of summer fun?

So why *exactly* is there rain and snow in the forecast?

You know, they make meds that can help this condition.

Why don’t I make you an appointment? Maybe some talk therapy will help you work out your issues.

I’m here to support you. Just so you know…I’m a much more supportive friend in the sunshine.

I’m just saying.

(bonus points if you remember the tagline from this commercial)

Hey, how’s your day going?

How’s my day? HOW’S MY DAY!?!??!

This, this is how my day is going:

This is what happens when you take the lovely rubberized cover off your iPhone and then go to a meeting and, whoops, drop it face down on a beautiful gray granite floor.

I have many, many curse words yet to go today.

By the by…the phone still works. Just not really inclined to run my finger across the screen…..