- 3 consecutive odd numbers make up the date only 6 times per century. The first was 1/3/05. This mathematical date would really wow me if it occured maybe 5 times per century, or 11, but 6? 6 is even and sloppy. 6 makes me sad, or maybe it's just that the Starbucks that I am blogging from has been playing Bob Dylan on repeat when everyone knows that Bob Dylan is better suited for Square Root Day. (Coming soon to an April 4th 2016 near you!)
- In a move that would seemingly have me hanging up my sex appeal, I have purchased a one-piece bathing suit. (In an effort to retain a modicum of vavavoom, I believe I am supposed to refer to said bathing suit as a maillot.) It used to be that I was all bikini all the time. No matter if my gut pooched over the top or love handles kissed the sides--I was still sexy! And young! And, oh shit! I forgot to shave!
But you know what? I give up. Again, blame it on Bob Dylan, but I'm 36. A mom. Make that a 36 year old mom who loves baked goods. From here on out it's just a slippery slope to a bathing suit with a flouncy floral skirt that one would not dare call a maillot, one crepey breast dripping out the side and nobody notices because nobody's looking. Bryan's going to be so stoked. Fucking Bob Dylan. - Odder still is that this third and last bullet point is not odd at all. My step-father is in the hospital. Allen. Long story short or short story long, two steps forward and one step back. He's dying, (we're all dying), but his death is more imminent, unless of course I get in the car this afternoon and get t-boned by a bus. It could happen, everything is possible. As I am writing this a coffee machine is incessantly beeping and the baristas are laughing. The other night my mom called to tell me Allen was in the ER about to undergo surgery and she was crying hysterically. My mother does not cry. For as long as I can remember I have been making wishes through the Rainbow Tunnel right before the bridge. I wish for a pony, this job. I wish for him to like me, to love me, for everything to be alright, for today to be fun. But as I drove to get my mother I held my breath in the tunnel and did not know what to wish for.
The surgery went fine, but there will be another. Tomorrow, actually. And if that goes well? Undoubtedly another after that. This is not going to end, or it will, and I realize that what I need to wish for is not a pony or a good day, but that we all have the courage, grace and strength to be kind to ourselves and to each other as if there were a pot of gold at the other end. Because maybe there is. (Bob Dylan is no longer on; now Ray Charles is singing.)
20 comments:
1. I love the randomness of your posts because they remind me of how my own brain operates.
2. I gave up on the bikinis years ago. Now I do the two piece with slight skirt action because it hides a wealth of nastiness at the top of my thighs. Sad, but I've learned to embrace it.
3. Making a wish as you go through the tunnel is the sweetest thing. I'm going to think of that everytime I drive through now. Can I steal it?
I'm sorry about your stepdad, and hope that his surgeries go without a hitch, and that he's here for a good long time....
I am sending all of my courage, strength and grace your way today. Soak it in and use it as you need it. It's only payback for all strength you've given me with your beautiful words.
I'll keep Allen in my heart today, be strong, ok? xo
Sorry to hear about Allen. I hope things turn out well.
If it helps any I think your new bathing suit is cute and the color will look great on you! I hope everything goes well with Allen...
oh, man.
i'm looking into one-pieces myself because i will be in a pool very shortly (at my sister's) and DO NOT HAVE A BATHING SUIT THAT FITS ME.
feck.
i grew up on the beaches of orange county. i lived on maui for six years.
i have never opted for a one-piece.
and now i have no choice.
*and may whatever hurts less be in store*
Bullet one is something I would have never known. I still don't know it actually, I've forgotten about it all ready.
Bullet two is the most odd campaign for "hottest mommy blogger" EVER.
Bullet three is very sad. But, nicely written.
So sorry to hear about Allen. My thoughts are with your fam.
Also, if it makes you feel better I just bought a fucking tankini from Lands End. Ugh.
I'm so sorry about your stepdad. Positive thoughts and prayers coming from down my way...
***
On another note, is that the suit you bought? Do tell from where. It's gorgeous (as far as one-pieces go). I too have forsworn the bikini after 2 babies in 2 years did a number on the tummy area...
Oh Susannah,
I wish you strength... for your own family, for your Mom, for Allen and also for the one piece. I've NEVER been in a bikini, so I really can't sympathize, but I am sending you strength to slide it on and wear it with pride.
I loved this post so much. I thought I was the only one who wished going over a bridge or when a train is going over the overpass.
Nice to know that ther are people out there who think like I do.
It's also nice to know that people out there are thinking of you and sending you strength, grace, and compassion.
1. I am sorry to hear about Allen. Tell your mom. I liked seeing him rolling down Bolinas Ave in Fairfax when I was on the way to picking up Sadie.
2. I like your suit. I don't even OWN one...
3. I am glad there are Starbucks in the world (and Peets and other socially acceptable places to set up shop with your computer) regardless if they play Dylan or Ray because it give you a place to write while you live the life of a gypsy. And I really like your writing.
Xo
Ro
I spent one summer in Marin, and everyone told me that wishes in the Rainbow bridge came true. I still remember holding my breath and making wishes. Sorry about Allen, I hope everything goes well.
I guess it doesn't really help much to tell you that I've got you and your family in my thoughts. But I do. Sometimes I feel like this whole blogging world is just a made-up place, and you are all fictional characters I've made up for myself. It's hard to think of strangers we've never met as actual people across the country. But you are real, and my wishes for your happiness and strength are real. Hope you feel a bit better knowing we all keep you in our thoughts when you've got it rough.
I love how you can mix hot mamas and death in one post and make it work.
Cute suit and my thoughts are with you and your family.
to you and your family, we send our thoughts of courage,good health, love,peace,harmony and a sprinkle of magic.
Namaste
Thank you all for your well wishes. As of now, Allen has had his 2nd surgery and both went relatively well. So far, so good. :)
I cannot tell you how much the well wishes mean to me.
Claire--the bathing suit is from Anthropologie!
xoxo,
S
Hi all you super blog friends of Sus'. (Even though I am sort of co-opting you,) I REALLY need to tell you all how much more that you could ever know, your well-wishes, good thoughts and solid support mean to me, to us. This recent complication of Allen's started out appearing to be one thing and then, KABLAM1! it was something else entirely. It was life-threatening and every click of the clock without our decision and signed agreements for immediate treatments moved Allen closer to either a very ugly, painful, imminent death or potential outcomes that he wasn't sure he wanted to live with. I thought I was pretty well 'PREPARED' to handle any of the eventualities, i.e., the long-term effects of his chronic MS and years of damaging immobility, but I was wrong. THE COLD words via phone from the surgeon-along with Allen's immediate, knee-jerk reactive decisions-so clearly made from a place of fear, agonizing pain and lack of information made me know that I needed to get over there ASAP. Of all the things I had thought to come up against, this just wasn't one of them. I just fell apart!-shaking uncontrollably and worse, absolutely unable to form thoughts. This is when I called and Susannah was THERE. Without her, I don't know that I could have regained my sanity. Soon after, ALL the beautiful family, like Andy and Morgan, Edgar, friends...they were all there to carry me until I could get my feet back under me. What an amazing feeling that is! Now, as I knew would happen, all of you out there also make your presence known. Thank you all. You just can't know how powerful your words are!
As of this afternoon, Allen is out of surgery and the news is as good as we could have hoped for. He has a bumpy, perilous post-op period to get through but for now, it's O.K. Thank you, Susannah...so much. Thank You Andy and Morgan because I feel you and know you'd be in the air moments after I asked. Thank you all.
Judy/Mom
hoping all is well. life is so sweet and yet a bitter pill at the same time. i know you know this. i see you struggle with it. thank you for sharing your life with everyone! ~a.b.
Oh, my thoughts are with you and your family.
A good wish when going through the Rainbow Tunnel. We wish when we go through as well.
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