because the world needs one more blogger
“I speak two languages: body and English.”
–Mae West
Dear Person Who Found My Blog by Searching “белые тигры”:
Gesundheit.
Love,
Mel
ETA: “белые тигры” apparently means “white tiger,” judging by the images that come when I copy and paste that phrase into Google. I love the internet.
The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear. Fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety.
– H.L. Mencken
So I’ve been thinking about this post lately. Not the boy – David’s got that part covered – but the end. This: “I learned, eventually, that you have to listen to everything, you can’t just pick and choose the parts that fit the story you’re telling in your head.”
And I was thinking about the story I tell in my head all the time – we all do it, we all tell a story about the life we imagine we live, about why we do things, and what we hope for. It’s the story we tell to get through the day, because the truth is so often less than we would like it to be.
My story’s about a girl who’s kind, and smart, and funny, and generous. Who’s successful, by most people’s standards, both personally and professionally. Whose life is more or less charmed in a number of important ways.
My truth, though, so often seems to fall short of that. I am often unkind, and particularly judgmental, at least in my thoughts. I regularly feel like everyone else is smarter than I am, particularly at work, and that I am a heartbeat away from people realizing I’m a fraud. I haven’t updated my weight loss photo album on Facebook in more than a year, because the truth is, I’ve gained 35 pounds in 15 months and I am terribly ashamed of that, and yet I cannot get it together to take control of my eating. My so-called charmed life has been scarred by some particularly shitty things, especially early on, and I lack the courage to truly face at least one of them. I live most of my life with some level of fear of not being good enough while setting such unbelievably high expectations of myself that it’s no wonder I fall short. I live with the man I want to marry and who I know loves me unconditionally, and yet I spend an inordinate of time and energy fighting the feeling that, sooner or later, he’s going to realize that I’m not quite what he thought. I drop out of communication with my friends and my grandma for extended periods of time because I just don’t have the energy or the attention span even to send an email, and by the time I do, so much has happened that I can’t bear having to recap it all, so I give up. That’s my truth.
Is it any wonder that the story I’m telling in my head is decidedly more upbeat? It has to be; otherwise, I’d never get out of bed.
Her full nature . . . spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half doing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.
– from Middlemarch, by George Eliot
Some of you have asked after the woman I wrote the last Three Things post about, and I appreciate that. I’m more sorry than I can say to tell you that it’s my best friend Aimee’s mother.
Jeanette was diagnosed with Stage IV brain cancer this past March. She underwent surgery to remove most of the tumor and then received both radiation and chemotherapy. She had ups and downs, and the prognosis was never great, but we all so hoped for a miracle, or at least more time than we got. She began declining steadily towards the end of August, and by the end, she was bedridden and often unable to respond, though she usually knew when people were with her.
I have known Jeanette since I was 14 years old. It wouldn’t be exaggerating at all to say that she was like a second mother to me. In high school, Aimee’s house was the place all the kids wanted to be because Jeanette and Bill, Aimee’s step-dad, were totally laid back. They were great fun to be around, but they also knew when to make themselves scarce, and as long as we weren’t out of control, they left us to our own devices. They took all of us in and loved us and counseled us and fed us and, in my case (and in the case of her sister’s friends), sheltered us for a time.
As we grew and went off and had lives of our own, they still asked after us and greeted us with hugs and kisses and questions about what we were up to. They always encouraged us in whatever endeavor we took on and supported us and shared their wisdom, which was vast, freely. I loved them dearly.
Bill died in November 2005. The minister at Jeanette’s memorial service said it best: She was a widow, but she never stopped being married to him. Aimee told me that it was Jeanette’s great hope that, after she died, she would be reunited with Bill. I don’t know what I believe, really, about what happens to you after you die, but I hope with all my heart that they are together again.
Three weeks before Jeanette died, I went to Richmond to say goodbye. It was a difficult thing to do; she was bedridden, nearly bald, and able to communicate very little. She knew we were there, though, and we had some good laughs and a few tears. Aimee and her sister were gracious enough to give me a few minutes alone with Jeanette, and I was able to tell her how much she meant to me and how grateful I was to have her in my life. I know that she understood; she cried a little when she realized that what I was really saying was goodbye. She grew sleepy, so we decided to go. I was the last one out, and before I left her side, I kissed her forehead and said, “Goodbye, Jeanette; I love you.” And that was the last time I saw her.
Aimee asked me to share Jeanette’s obituary with you; you can find it here.
Jeanette with the quilt she made for Ben's 1st birthday
My soul is full of whispered song;
my blindness is my sight;
The shadows that I feared so long
are all alive with light.
– Dying Hymn, by Alice Cary
Today, the happiness is hard to find, so let’s focus on things I’m grateful for:
1. that a wonderful, smart, kind woman isn’t in pain anymore
2. that she had the best possible care — in her own home, which she loved so much — until the very end
3. that the people who loved her had the opportunity — one not afforded to many — to make sure she knew how much she was loved
It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.
– Sir Edmund Hillary
1. the ability to accept the help that is available to you
2. sleeping with the windows open, and the resulting decreased electricity bill
3. having more money than you have bills
These are the things I’m thankful for this week. How about you?
A journey is best measured in friends, not in miles.
– Tim Cahill
So when we last left off, David and I had collapsed into bed in our beautiful European-inspired hotel room in Chicago. That was Monday night. Tuesday morning we prepared to head back to Detroit. I had hoped to somehow meet up with Jane on our way out of town, but she had her own adventure to tend to, so we didn’t get the chance. Instead, David drove us along Lake Shore Drive to head out of the city on another beautiful day in Chicago so I could see the waterfront and Soldier Field and Comiskey Park (which isn’t called Comiskey Park anymore, but whatever). It was lovely. We stopped for breakfast at what David tells me is the only rest stop (anywhere?) that’s built on an overpass (that is, it serves both sides of the big highway). He tried to win me a Nintendo DS from a game machine, but didn’t have any luck. Oh well.
By the time we got back to Detroit, we had just enough time to change and grab the tickets and David’s brother and head downtown to Comerica Park to watch the Tigers take on the hated Cleveland Indians. I had walked around the outside of Comerica at Christmastime, but this was my first time inside. I immediately went to the team store to purchase a Tigers visor so I could credibly root for the home team (and without betraying my Braves – the Tigers are in the AL).
We walked around the stadium so I could see everything, and I even got the boys to ride the mini baseball Ferris wheel with me!
I also got a half-yard frozen daquiri, but that is neither here nor there. We then got a beer and something to eat (I had egg rolls. Egg rolls! At a baseball stadium! And chili-cheese fries. Breakfast of champions.) before settling into our seats.
David’s dad snared excellent seats down the right field line off Stub Hub, and during warm ups, I looked up and who did I see? One Grady Sizemore, centerfielder for the Indians, stretching and jogging not 20 yards from me! He’s hot, let me tell you.
Once David figured out what I was doing, he tried to take my camera away, but I didn’t let him. It’s my duty to take pictures of hot baseball players, and I take that responsibility very seriously.
The game itself was great – the Tigers won – and we headed home to do a little laundry and fall in to bed.
Wednesday morning, we packed up and got back in the car, this time headed for a little town just northeast of Buffalo, New York. My cousin was to be married Saturday, and Wednesday evening was her bridal shower (she, and a lot of wedding guests, was from out of town, but nearly the entirety of our moms’ side of the family lives in this town, which is why the shower was there and so close to the wedding). Since she had asked me to be in her wedding, I needed to be at the shower that evening, so we left around 9 or so and headed for the border. The Canadian border.
As David is fond of telling me, if you head due south from Detroit, the first foreign country you come to is Canada. Going through Canada would save us several hours, assuming the border crossing didn’t take long, and time was of the essence that day, so with our passports in hand, we made a quick entrance into the Great White North.
We had a lovely Canadian day. First, we had breakfast at Tim Horton’s. Donuts, yum. Then we stopped at Canadian Tire. It’s hard to explain Canadian Tire – it’s a little like a KMart crossed with an auto parts store, I guess, but David has been talking about it as long as I’ve known him, so we had to go.
We found Canada t-shirts there, on sale for $8.99 (or “Nine dough-lers” as David was fond of saying), red for him, white for me. Then we stopped for lunch at Harvey’s, a Canadian fast food joint. This one was located inside a Home Depot. Thank goodness for GPS. Our burgers were delicious, and people in Canada are so friendly!
We made an equally smooth entrance back into the U.S., and made our way through the Western New York countryside on a gorgeous afternoon, and I honestly don’t know if there’s any better place to be. We got to my aunt’s around 3:30 and David encountered the first wave of family introductions. The showers was girls-only, so I left him there to await my uncle, the District Attorney, who had agreed to take David and Steve (the boyfriend of one of the other bridesmaids) out to dinner. He was not happy that I couldn’t be there for the introductions; I’m sure he had Sopranos-like visions of my Italian uncle picking him and “going for a ride,” but he was a good sport.
The shower was lovely; my aunts did an amazing job, as always. Afterwards, my cousin and I and one of the bridesmaids went to find the boys in town. We walked into the restaurant only to see my grandpa holding court at their table. I hadn’t expected him to be there, but I should have guessed he would be. We attempted to pull up a table to their booth to join them, but the waitresses stopped us, which was not a good idea. My grandpa doesn’t like to be told no. Next thing you know, the wait staff is dealing with an ornery old man, and my cousin and I are laughing our heads off because this is so typical. I think David might have been scared, though.
In the end, we took the booth behind them, and my grandpa came to sit with us for a bit. He told me how much he’d enjoyed talking to David and how glad he was that I’d brought him. Made me so happy. One of my aunts showed up and then the 6 of us – me and David, my cousin, my aunt, the bridesmaid and her boyfriend – headed to the only bar in town to catch up some more and play some darts. And with the exception of the boys, I can tell you that all of us are supremely bad dart players.
It was, however, a lot of laughs. I love my family, and I love how seamlessly David fits into it.
Around 11, we headed back to my aunt’s house where we were staying and fairly collapsed into bed, again. First, though, we had to repack a small bag, because in the morning, we were headed back to Canada: Toronto. I’ll tell you all about Day 7 next time (which, hopefully, will not be two weeks from now)!
Farewell, my sister, fare thee well,
The elements be kind to thee, and make
Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.
– from Antony and Cleopatra, by William Shakespeare
1. the chance to say goodbye
2. seeing something you’ve committed to bear results
3. gift cards
What are you grateful for this week?
If dreams are like movies
then memories are films about ghosts
– Counting Crows, Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby
1. going through old memories
2. clearing out clutter
3. finally getting the guest room in full order, after 6 months
How about you? What are you happy about this week?
P.S. I know I haven’t posted the rest of our trip – or anything but Three Things recently – and I’m sorry. I just haven’t felt motivated to take the time to do it. Hopefully I’ll get around to it soon.
(I am digging that alliteration!)
Cooking is like love: It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.
– Harriet Van Horne
1. trying new recipes
2. a friendly game of softball with co-workers (and Team A (my team) won – of course, because the A stands for awesome!)
3. the familiar ache in your muscles the day after you lift weights
What are you happy about this week?
I had a total 36-hour love affair with Chicago. It started with our hotel, the Raffaello, where we got a great last-minute rate on hotels.com, especially considering how close it is to Michigan Avenue. It was very European (fairly small lobby, very small elevators), but we had a beautiful room with a flat screen tv and DVD player. My favorite part was the bathroom: it had one of those rain shower heads, where the water falls directly down on top of you; there was no tub, only a shower, and only half a glass door – part of the shower (the part away from the showerhead) was completely open to the rest of the bathroom; and it had a bowl sink, one of those that sits up on the counter. Perfect.
Since we arrived close to 1 am, we slept in a bit on Monday before heading over to Michigan Avenue to see the sights and head down to Navy Pier. It was a gorgeous day, and it wasn’t too long until we came across people engaged in what has to be one of the top-ten jobs I don’t want:
Skyscraper window-washing. NO. WAY.
We hung a left to head toward Navy Pier. The first time and only time prior to this that I had been in Chicago was 10 years ago, when the amusement park I worked for was going to open a Bubba Gump’s in the park. They sent me and my boss to the Bubba Gump’s in Navy Pier for training, since I would be managing the restaurant. Here it is:
Navy Pier is pretty touristy, but I wanted to ride the giant Ferris wheel, because I like being touristy, so we pressed on. Before we got to the Ferris wheel, though, we passed several outfits offering boat tours and decided that would be a great way to see the city. We opted for the SeaDog Architectural Tour that would take us down the Chicago River through the city and tell us about some of the buildings we’d see, and it included a “speedboat portion” out on Lake Michigan at the end. It was totally worth it – we learned all about the big buildings, many of which are quite iconic, and our tour guide was very funny (and punny, too!). There are too many pictures to share here, but you can check out my Chicago album on Flikr if you like. Here’s a couple of my favorites:
By the time we got back, it was lunchtime, so we set off in search of some authentic deep-dish pizza. We eschewed Uno’s in favor of Gino’s East which I had seen on our drive in the night before, and after consulting the GPS on David’s BlackBerry, we made it there without any trouble. It takes a looooong time to cook deep-dish, so we had an appetizer while we waited and I wrote “Melanie loves David” amidst all the (management-sanctioned) graffiti on the walls. The pizza was DEFinitely worth the wait – it was SO good and really hit the spot.
We had hoped to hit Millennium Park, but lunch took longer than we thought, so we just took a short walk back to the hotel to rest a bit before the game. David, who seems to know how to everywhere no matter where we are, led us to the El, where we hopped a train to Wrigley Field. I was SO excited – it’s one of the stadiums I’ve really wanted to go to (when I was in Chicago before, the Cubs were out of town, so we saw the White Sox and what was then Comiskey Park). I had to get the iconic shot, of course:
Then we headed inside. I really loved this stadium. Everyone was so friendly, and although it was packed (Cubs fans are die-hard, you know), it didn’t feel busy – the lines for concessions and bathrooms were not long at all. The only sad part was no Dippin’ Dots. David and I get Dippin’ Dots at every baseball game we go to, and Wrigley was the first we’ve encountered that didn’t have them. Oh well.
(David is not betraying his Tigers – he buys a hat of the home team at every stadium he goes to. He even has a Yankees cap. Boo.)
Oh, if you don’t follow baseball, you might not know that a seat at Wrigley Field can be a tough get. Some enterprising homeowners have made it a little easier:
That’s rooftop seating on Waveland Avenue, which runs behind left field. Clever, huh? There’s also a bunch behind right field.
Ok, maybe the best thing about Wrigley Field, for me, was the rediscovery of something I first saw (and haven’t seen since) at Comiskey Park 10 years ago:
It’s onion grinder for your hot dog! Fresh onion! Right there in Wrigley! David thinks I’m silly, but I dig this so much!
Unfortunately, the Cubbies went down to the Astros, but a good time was definitely had by all.
We took the El back, but intentionally switched trains to ride a little longer and see what we could see before heading back to the hotel. We pretty much collapsed into (the awesome, comfortable) bed when we got back, so that’s really all there is to tell for now!
Day 5 is heading back to Detroit and the Tigers game, and Day 6 has us crossing the border into Canada on our way to Buffalo, so check back later this week to continue our journey!
What People Are Saying