Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Missing my mom

Little things, like Mythbusters ads. Books. Everywhere, I see her in books. My tablecloths she made when I was little. The Norwegian decor all over my house. The pewter candlesticks I could kill someone with. The sweaters. Oh, the sweaters. The obituary on the fridge I should probably take down, because every time I look at it I'm thrown into that funky parallel universe where everything is slightly off.

She was, is, a force of nature. That woman is one amazing piece of work. I want to call her. I want to kiss her soft cheek.

Monday, May 14, 2012

On the way home from Storymakers 2012

My mom died on May 3, 2012, and with the support of my family, I attended the Storymakers writers conference anyway. It was two days of blissful fog with wonderful friends and an awesome roommate. I was completely distracted and I now realize what a blessing that was, because reality came crashing back down quickly enough.

ANYWAY, the 2nd night of the conference (which was after the Whitney Awards, one of which I was nominated for but lost to a dear friend, so it's ok) my awesome roommate's husband picked her up and my husband took her place, so we had a nice evening together. The next day on the drive home, I was reminded of why I laugh so much with him. It went something like this:

I plug in my iphone and start my shuffling playlist for our listening pleasure.
Mark: You're older than I am. Just so you know.
Me: What?
Mark: Phil Collins? That's like easy listening.
Me: It is not. It's retro.
Mark: He was easy listening back when he was big.
Me: Fine. We'll skip it.
Mark: What is THAT?
Me: It's Il Divo. The hot opera guys Simon Cowell put together.
I turn the volume up.
Me: How does that not give you chills?
Mark: What? I'm sorry! I can't hear you--there are too many people yelling in here. And if this is what we have to listen to in heaven, you'll have to find someone else.
Me: Pffft.  Whatever. Here.
Mark: Ok, that's better. Queen I can listen to in heaven. pause I'm pretty sure Freddy Mercury isn't there, though.
Me: Hey! We don't know that!
Mark: I'm pretty sure he had sex with animals.
Me: sputtering We don't know why, we don't know what he was dealing with...
Mark: It was that overbite.
Me: For crying out loud.
Phone rings. It's Anna.
Mark: We're on our way home right now.
Anna: Why aren't you answering your phone!?!
Mark: We stopped for a snack and I must not have heard my phone in my pocket.
Anna: It's Sunday. You guys are hypocrites.
Mark: We're on the road.
Anna: Anyway, you can call Bestie and tell him you're going to be late for dinner, because I'm not going to.
Mark: Anna, we're not going to be late. We're on our way home right now.
Anna: Whatever! Mom said you would be home an hour ago.
Mark: I did not tell Mom to say that.
Me: Anna, I'm sorry. I didn't know.
Anna hangs up in a huff. I am afraid.
Me: Ah, here we go.
The dulcet tones of Sting waft through the car.
Mark: eye roll
Song shifts to "No Stars" by Figures on a Beach
Mark: Who is this? No, don't tell me.
Me: You'll never guess it.
Mark: Yes I will. Ok, who is it?
Me: Figures on a Beach.
Mark: blank, flat expression.
I'm not surprised, because it's off a sample album "Just Say Yo" I listened to ad nauseum in the early 90s. He didn't much care for it then, either. Was also irritated that I overplayed Toad the Wet Sprocket's "Walk on the Ocean" in those days.