Monthly Archives: July 2011
A friend offered to go to the memorial service with me.
But I’m not going.
The ex’s death has stirred up a lot of emotions. Not all of them good.
And reading the comments on the web memorial page are describing someone I never knew.
And, though I cried when I got the news, and wish it wasn’t true, if I’m honest? A part of me, the part that always knew where his house was, where his office was, the small part of me that still tensed up with the thought of ever bumping into him, the part that knew how ever much I hoped he would move out of the area that he never would, and I was going to spend the rest of my life risking bumping into him?
A part of me…relaxed.
A man I used to love is dead.
I don’t feel old, but clearly my conversational skills have taken a chilling shift to lunch time at the retirement home, in that all I have to talk about is how crappy I feel.
To be fair to me, when you’re alone in the house all day catching up on Tivo and surfing the web, there is a limit to the question “what’s new with you.” Because, really, what is new is what is also old, and that is pain.
So excuse me for not being fascinating.
But madfishmonger reminded me of the only other time I’ve been on crutches, which was twenty years ago (hey, I said I didn’t feel old, not that I was young).
I’d sprained my ankle, and was hobbling around the grocery store, struggling to steer the cart while using crutches. I noticed a guy who seemed to be checking me out in the produce aisle. Then I noticed him again by the cereal, and yet again when I was picking up milk.
Then, when I get into line to check out, he stands behind me, and tries to start a flirty conversation with me. And I turned to him and said “Really? You watched me struggle through the store, don’t offer to help, and NOW you want to flirt with me? You suck at this.” He turned red with embarrassment and skulked off.
(Hmm, I don’t have much of an ending for this. Other than “Dude from the grocery store twenty years ago: It’s been two decades, and I have to say that in the 38 years I was single, that was about the worst example of flirting I ever saw.”)
So I was at a workshop yesterday, me and my broken foot perched on a stool, and I needed more supplies. I said to the women sitting next to me. “You know, I was going to ask where the extra pieces are, but I realized I don’t care where they are, I just want someone to hand it to me.”
And they were fabulous, fetching anything I needed all afternoon.
And this morning I was at church, and when it came time for communion, I realized there was no way my crutches and I were going to fit between the pews. I go to the early service, which is more sparsely attended, so I had to lean into the aisle to get the attention of the closest woman. “Um, I’m not going to be able to make it there.” So she kindly sent the women with the bread and the ‘let’s call it they symbolic blood of Christ, because it certainly isn’t wine, and calling it grape juice loses a bit of the majesty of the ceremony‘. I’ve never had pew service before.
Strangers at my beck and call, catering to my needs. It’s like I’m queen. But without the fancy hat. Except for the broken foot and the pain and the ugly ‘shoe’ and the crutches, I could get used to this.
Ooh – never had an update before. Feel so official.
Turns out sceptres were in fact used for hitting.
Okay, originally they were staffs or walking sticks. But they were also used as “a weapon of defence and assault.” And then evolved into a status symbol of royalty.
Defence and assault? Totally wacking sticks. Jewel embellished wacking sticks, yes, but still wacking sticks.
So it occurred to me the other day that it is statistically unlikely that my beloved husband only does annoying or stupid things when I’m standing up.
I mean, when I’m lying or sitting down he is his usual charming, intelligent kind loving self.
Took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize that he is acting the same. It is just that I’m in lots of pain when standing, much less when sitting. Which, unsurprisingly, impacts my perception of the world.
And apparently my intelligence.