Monday, October 23, 2017


The Girl's biennial cardiology check up was a couple weeks ago.  There was modest bribery required for the ultrasound but compared to years past when she had to be held down, screaming, it was a massive success.  She's growing up. 

As we waited for the doctor at the end, I heard him outside the door, "Oh.... well now.  That's interesting." 

Interesting, in the clinical setting, is by definition bad.  Especially in that sad, flat tone he used. 

But this is not a story about PTSD or flashbacks.  I sighed, but didn't feel the bottom of yet another cliff come rushing toward us.  Which is, I suppose, progress.  Maybe I'm finally growing up too.

Turns out his comment had nothing to do with us and he pronounced her heart repair nigh perfect.  Come back in 2 years.

In the waiting room, before the bribes and the all clear, there had been 3 children giving my daughter the side eye.  At one point the oldest hissed loudly at her brother to STOP STARING.  I ignored them because I do not need to school every human being with whom my daughter comes into contact.  Their mother eventually came out holding a very small baby, gave my girl a hard look, then suggested her children all say goodbye to their Friend in a too bright voice.  The voice that meant Very Special Friend, capitalized, and that makes my teeth hurt from its forced gaiety and saccharine.  I ignored her too because I am not going sanction such awkwardness and the kids hadn't even been playing together and ffs, lady, really?

Except she turned as she was leaving and her baby had the most beautiful almond eyes....


I dimly remember stalking people in the grocery store and stumbling over myself and my words when my girl was small and I didn't know What This All Meant (also capitalized).  We have come such a long way.  I hope that mother and all her Very Special Friends find peace.  I wish whatever the doctor was reading was only mildly interesting and didn't involve his newest patient.  I think maybe I could try to be less of a dick around strangers. 
Top of Mt Tam in CA - no cliffs involved.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

It was a ranch and there were no balconies

When my Gigi bought her home just after the war, the lots near the ocean and the tree heavy lots inland were about the same price.  She wanted trees.  This was something of a family joke because the ocean lots, as you can imagine, fetch several decimal places more today.

(She also briefly owned a Duesenberg.  Yet another lost inheritance.)

I had a dream my dad decided to keep and restore Gigi's home.  Except now a bedroom balcony overlooked deep water and in my dream I sat near her and watched orcas and sharks and dolphins swim below.  I could hear my kids running thru the house.  It was beautiful and I was at peace. 

A month or so ago Matt was in Los Angeles and drove by Gigi's.  The new owners have turned my grandmother's classy Cape Cod into... a garage.
(Apologies for the jigsaw - Matt had actually taken a video and my photo editing skills are, um, lacking.)

They also posted pictures online of a new surgical center where Gigi used to craft her meals.

At the end of my dream a massive wave crashed over the balcony.  Change is hard.