Sunday, August 25, 2013

our sweet cat

Poor Juniper, sweetest cat ever, blew her knee and just had her leg amputated. Even in her post-surgery grogginess, she asked for a pen, a card, and a stamp. What a cat.

the bad vibes stop here

     Once I sat at a poetry reading by someone you have heard of. She's very famous. You probably know and like some of her poetry.
     About 20 minutes into the reading, right in the middle of one of her poems, she stopped short. She took a deep breath, looked down with a knit brow, and then looked back up at the attentive audience.
     "Someone in here is giving off a very negative vibe, and I do not appreciate it," she snapped, sending a puff of impatience out the nose.
     We in the audience were instantly wide-eyed, charged with something we didn't know we were guilty of, and suddenly feeling ashamed. We tried to convey innocence with our facial expressions, to muster up the most positive vibes we could. I tried to feel where these bad vibes were coming from, but all I could get were the overwhelming, angry vibes from the famous poet.
     She scanned the room, glaring at all of us. "I would appreciate it if you would either leave or STOP IT. NOW."
     There was a long pause as the audience sat frozen in our seats. Then she went back to reading her poetry.
     I have to say: it felt impossible not to give off a bit of a negative vibe after that. I tried, but it was really tough. I was afraid bad vibes were leaking out of me, like a foul, you know, odor. I had been having a pleasant time, but once she scolded us, scattershot like that, in such a harsh, peculiar way, it was very difficult to feel safe.
     From where I sat, it felt like the wrong way to handle bad vibes: to stir up more.
     I still admire her poetry, but I don't like it any more. Not in the way you want to rest in a good poem. Now I feel like I kind of have to pinch my nose a bit. Like there's poop next to a hydrangea bush that's in full bloom. It's a bummer. 
 I feel better telling the story, though. It's been about 25 years since that afternoon. Time to let go. The bad vibes stop here, man. Look at the hydrangea -- it's in full bloom!
   

Thursday, August 22, 2013

wedding bells are gonna chime

     Remember that song? "I'm hurt! She's mad! Wedding bells are gonna chime!"
     That's what I always heard in the 1960s "Do Wa Diddy" song. It wasn't until I was singing along 20 some years ago, with kids in the backseat, that my error came to light. It's awkward being busted when you're singing at full volume, but that moment was such an eye opener. The correct lyrics made so much more sense. Ohhhhh, I thought. "I'm hers, she's miiiiine." Right. That does sound better.
     But then again, so what if the lyrics didn't make sense. When the Turtles sang, "So happy together! How is the weather?" we all stomached those sorry lyrics.
     And anyway, surely some couples get married when one of them is hurt and the other a little bit mad. I thought maybe the couple in the song was getting married in spite of their moods, which was a positive indicator of the depth of their love. And they were singing happily about it all. It's almost Zen.
     Well. It was great moods all around on the day Ting and Dave got married. We all gathered to celebrate love, hope, forgiveness, gratitude, and joy itself. Why don't we have these celebrations all the time? Those are good things to celebrate.

     Your heart feels full in these moments. Somehow in the process of the wedding of your kid -- your amazing, beautiful kid, whom someone wonderful has chosen as life partner -- even as you are standing  in the very Center of Life, you can also feel yourself take a step aside.

Sunday, August 11, 2013

you never have to ask me that again

     Laura and I are gradually developing a list of things we never need to ask each other again. So far she's given me permission never to ask her again: "Do you mind if I put some protein powder in the smoothie?" That's gonna save a lot of time and breath.
     I'm letting her off the hook for the following: "Is it okay that I'm not wearing a bra?"and "Do you care if my hair is like this?" It's always okay, and I never care.
     Now that we've conceived of the notion of such a list of things, I hope it becomes long and varied. Still, you want some questions to remain. I sort of hope we never get to not asking things like: "Do you feel like driving or do you want me to?" When a couple gets into automatic assumptions about who is going to drive, when either could -- I dunno. Something tends to get funky. So maybe it needs to be a short list, comprising things that are really, really okay never to ask again.
     So far, it's just those three questions.

     While I'm sharing (I know it's been awhile, for which I have some excellent alibis, and an apology), I will mention that Laura and I are today breaking in our new shoes for Ting's wedding next weekend. More to the point, we are breaking in our feet. Lots of women's feet are heel-ready; ours are not. But we are aiming to pull off the illusion that this is how we always walk: on tiptoes; legs not bending much, but instead moving past each other like the spikes of a compass. Except held together, and not making a circle.
     You can see we are still trying to get clear on the concept and its execution.