small things...

What is this a food blog??

Just some photos for your viewing pleasure...

                              

:: Michigan cherries, oh, how I miss you!

                              

:: I fought my Sunday blues this week by running (walking) a race with Peggy and making this quiche and it worked pretty well, I must admit.  But it's Tuesday already and I haven't even had a bite yet.

See if you can find the food in this next photo....

                               

:: "What's your point, auntie?"

what to do with the small things

"The whole is greater then the sum of it’s parts."  People say this.  Big picture people.  I don’t know why they say this, anymore.  It means that any one thing is bigger or more important than  each of the pieces that makes it up.  "God is in the details".  People say that too, big picture people (read with snarky tone).  I can tell you that when you lose someone their whole absence is overwhelming, and an immeasurable void.  But it is all of the details of your relationship with this person that constantly remind you what you’ve lost.  You’ve felt this.  Death is not the only loss we experience.

An example:  My dad knew how to get anywhere in Chicago just being given an address.  He had worked for a taxi company while in college and his father before him also drove a taxi.  He once told me, with great pride, after I chauffered my parents around my old home Boulder, CO – that I would make a good taxi driver b/c I seemed to know all the good routes.  I was aware that this was a great compliment – that he had seen a bit of himself in me.  I still think of my dad when I log on to mapquest, the only replacement I have been able to find.  Though I would always prefer to ask someone who knows - Mapquest doesn’t tell you stories of a place.  

Recently, coming home from that Harry Potter outing I took last week, I thought to myself, “I’m going to tell Mom this tomorrow…where is she again?”  And then I remembered.  And I realized I had lost the one person I could tell all the details of my own life to; the one person I knew always wanted to hear about all the small things.  And for me this has been a great adjustment.  I am finding ways to tell these details (see odd “Florida” entry below).  And my friend at work certainly hears the majority of the random details of my day that I’m compelled to share b/c I see him daily and that’s been the nature of our friendship since the beginning. (Thanks, John!)  But he’s got other things on the horizon and I’ll need to figure out how to express these thoughts again…

Writing a blog is not a conversation, but it may be the outlet I need to remember and share these details.  Writing a blog is strange, because I cannot see your faces.  Your responses – when they come – are delayed, often hours/days later.  It is not a conversation, but right now it’s what I’ve got.

I keep saying to people, "Isn't it weird that I have a blog??" I guess I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing, but I'm compelled to be here and to tell "you" these things.  So I think I'll be around these parts awhile longer. 

The taste of another place

I took my first sip of coffee this morning and thought, “this tastes like  Florida.” 

Who knows...

An apology to Sunday

I didn't mean it, Sunday.  I mean, you know we haven't always gotten along, right?  But I don't "hate" you, not really anyways.  You kind of bug me, but I bug you too, right??  Maybe it's really Monday that I hate and I'm taking it out on you...?  Monday's cruel alright.  But Sunday, you just lead me right into that trap!  I don't know. 

Can we just be friends and forget all about it?  Agree to disagree?  Maybe you could have a talk with Monday and see if we could all work something out?  When you think about it, I only feel this way about you when Monday gets involved!!?!  If Monday weren't such an ass, I'm sure you and I'd be fine!

Now how do we get rid of Monday....?

I drank the Kool-Aid

So not only did I read the 6^th book in time for the release of the 7^th, emailed friends a nearly naughty photo of Harry Potter and tried my best to not talk about what might happen at all times of the day with anyone who seemed remotely interested, but I  also went to one of those release parties...by myself...in a town 45 minutes away...at midnight

There was a part of me that was trying to deny that I’d gone off the deep end; that I could wait to get the last book; that I wasn’t completely curious about what other Harry Potter fans would be doing that night; that I didn’t think that it would be fun join in on the insanity.  But there was a much larger part of me that wanted to be a part of all of it.  So I went with that part.  And it was great.  I loved seeing packs of teenaged boys with their shaggy hair dressed in their dark blue sweaters, white collared shirts with matching ties.  I loved seeing the gaggle of girls in matching t-shirts that read “Dumbledore’s Army.”  I was surprised by it and envious of their supreme fandom. I chuckled when I read the sign for Pollyjuice potion for sale…and then I bought some.  I felt like a bit of a fraud, but who gives a shit?! I didn’t! I loved that people were this excited about reading a book. I waited in line with 2100 other people for my book, I didn’t get home until 2am and it was totally worth it. 

::  Terrible photo, but you get the idea

And I’ve spent the better part of the past 2 days reading the entire thing. I cried (again) at the end, not because of what happened in the book, but because it was over with.  And I was really sad about that.  I walked outside after finishing the book and thought simply, “Oh.  Everything is the same.”  And I came inside and sobbed with grief. 

These books were such a great distraction for me.  I have been reading these books for the past 8 weeks.  As you all know, a lot has happened over the past 8 weeks and these stories helped me escape from some of it.  I became so engrossed in imagining this other world and I didn’t anticipate how hard my grief would come pouring back once it was all over.  My grief had waited patiently until there was room to return and then it filled up all my empty crevices. 

PLUS, it’s Sunday.  And I fucking hate Sunday. 

I had a conversation with a student this week who’d felt surprised and angry with herself when she found herself crying over something she’d thought she’d moved past. I explained, “This is how grief works.  It will leave for a time and allow you time to gain strength.  Then it returns – the first unexpected arrival hurts worst.  Each time it comes back it is easier to get through, b/c you have been there before and you know the way out.  It will one day, no longer be grief, but it will always be sad.   You will just keep getting stronger.” 

So I’m allowing myself to cry.  I’m trying to do nice things for myself and I will go to bed early and tomorrow I will wake up early and go for a run.  It’s the best way I know how to sort it all out.

I kind of wish I had a magic wand though. 

and one of those "Dumbledore's Army" t-shirts.

and another day off of work.

The Haps

• 2 months since I took a "Leave" from work
• 1 week since I’ve been back to work
• 9 years, 4 days since dad died
• 1 month since mom died

But also….

• 1 day since I had dinner with 2 of my very first friends
• 3 days since I took a bike ride with Simona and ended up here
• 1 year 5 months since Emmett was born
• And lots of other good stuff too

Trying to bring balance at all times.  Happiness and sorrow can live together. 

I’ve been reading the Harry Potter series.  I read the first one during one of the first nights I slept over at mom’s this summer.  I was desperate for something to read and for some reason my mom had the first one tucked in among her large collection of books.  I read it quickly and when I learned that the 7^th and final book was to be released this summer, I thought I’d try to catch up.  Just finished book 5 last night – I can now go see the movie.  But I feel a bit hesitant about it.  I cried - a lot – as I finished reading the end of this book.  For anyone who has not read it, but may one day, I wont’ give it all away.  Let’s just say that the author captures death, loss, grief, love and friendship and tells you exactly how it feels.  Since I’ve been experiencing all of these emotions lately lots of chords in my heart were being struck.  So I’m not sure I want to watch it all on screen.  But I also really want to see it. 

Now I need to finish book 6 by Saturday. 

Yours with my nose in a book,

Erin

Work it out

oy. back to the grindstone as they say.  (is that what they say??)  It was weird going back to work.  The first morning was awful.  I cried all the way to work, I cried throughout my morning meeting with my boss and then I cried after speaking with our Campus Director.  All morning I thought, "It is just so weird to be back.  Everything has changed."  Then some excited students dropped by for a visit and to update me on their lives and I started to feel better.  Then my friend John showed up (Hi Johnny M!) and got me laughing in the afternoon.  And after awhile I felt like, "man, nothing's changed at all." Which was comforting and also a little disheartening.   There is this idea that you might want things to go back to normal - that normality will make things feel better.  But what I think I want, and maybe what others who experience great loss want, is that everything be different.  My whole life has changed drastically.  I don't want to just go back to the same old thing.   I'm lucky however to have this place to be while I figure some of those changes out. 

I'm not sure I was ready to go back, but I'm not sure I was ever going to be ready to go back.  But I'm back and it feels okay enough and there's lots of good people around, so I think it's going to be okay.

Grieving

                        

                       : : A storm blows in over the beach in Captiva, Fl

Grief is like the tide.  This is not a new metaphor – I am aware of that.  The similar ebb and flow of grief has been well documented I’m sure.  I am only coming here to affirm this description.  Emotions coming in and out like waves, at some points swelling then receding; sometimes the tide is high and the sadness remains upon your shore for a time, and other times it’s low giving you time and opportunity to explore what has been left behind.   There is no point in fighting the nature of grief; in fighting the waves you run the risk of drowning.  Better to ride in and out with the tides…Better still – grab a raft, might as well keep yourself afloat! 

The Good Life.

     Spent this weekend with my sister, nephew and brother-in-law at the home of my parents’ best friends in Sawyer, MI.  Harbor Country.  These people know how to live.  I have aspired to live like them for as long as I can remember.  They’ve had a lot of their own losses, 3 shared with us and I have come to believe that this has greatly informed the choices they have made with how they spend their lives.

     They live life well.  They enjoy their moments. Everything is celebrated. They are the kind of people who bake a pie and invite you over to eat it while it’s still warm.  And you go, you should always go. 

     Their home in Michigan is warm and cozy and dedicated to having company.  They are collectors of memories and every corner of their home holds a story waiting to be shared.  We spent much of our mornings wandering around looking at all their stuff and remembering what was ours to remember.  We spent the rest of the time at the beach, or drinking beer on the patio, eating sandwiches on the deck, or making margaritas in the kitchen.  Telling stories and leaving a few of our own memories.

     She told me that he retired in 2000, the earliest he could, because of my dad.  “Life is too short,” he reasoned.  I was really sad to leave them today.  I took the long way home and cried for much of it.  As good as it felt to be there with them I really, really missed my parents. 

     It’s strange, this new life we’ve entered.  Even though so much is the same, everything has changed.  I am aware at all times of the difference.

     I still aspire to live like Dan and Maureen.  To celebrate my life, my family and my friends.  I still aspire to live a good life worth a few stories and a round of beers.  Luckily, I’m Irish - This is expected.  and the tears are okay too. 

     Here are some photos of our visit. Enjoy ::

                

                 : : Bee Balm (?) from their incredible garden

                

: : The structure on the left is the "guest house" they built attached to the back of their garage to accommodate all their lucky visitors.  It connects to the house (right) via the wooden deck.  What you don't see is a pond, outdoor shower and fire pit.  lovely.

                

: : Dan & Maureen leading us down to their beach.  Look at that blue water. 

                

: : The Robinson's (Megan, Terry and Emmett)

                

: : Ahhhhh, homemade margaritas.

                

: : This is Emmett and he is cooler then all of us.