- I am getting another tattoo. Yes it has been 16 years since the last one. Yes, I might have to realize that I am no longer 19. But no, I don’t care.
- I am completely annoyed by the ADHD drug shortage. Why? Because I need those drugs, thank you very much. And– how wrong is it that those are the drugs that are so hard to get. I must go to my doc and pick up a signed script, which I had to call for 48 hours in advance, and then bring it to the pharmacy. If they don’t have my dose – but perhaps another does that they could work out the combo for (I get a total of 30mg a day/ 30 days so theoretically, they could give me that in 5mg or 15mg tabs instead of 10mg tabs) they can’t give me that dose until my doc writes another script, and I go back to that office, pick it up, and hope they haven’t run out of that dose by time I get back. Or I can – like this weekend, stop in to every pharmacy along the way – feeling the whole time, a smidge like a drug addict, being asked to show my id, my shoe size and any distinguishing marks- and then see if they have my dose. Wouldn’t you know WalMart was the only place stocked with it? I know it runs counter-intuitive to my shopping politics – but I’m sorry, this is crap. Did you catch the part where this is my ADHD med. Come on, I can barely focus on the sentence I’m trying to finish – never mind a task of this magnitude.
- There is actually an acting bug. I have actually caught it. I’m not sure if it is contagious, but it will cause one to fall in love with tutus and voice warm-ups.
- Many might find it a completely bizarre way to deal with one’s grief – but me I’m completely content knowing my Pops is controlling the sports world — and the best part – he does it with endings so ugly – everyone has to have a heart attack first – and he – he gets to chuckle away to himself on some chair constructed of star stuff, pulled up close to a tv that never looses its signal. Also, one should note here, that if he is pulling off mammoth feats of Super Bowls, this little miracle I need in May, shouldn’t be a problem at all.
- I have, hands down, the best friends on the planet. I have coworkers who cover for me, and let me vent, or sob in their office, be it ten am or long past the final bell. I have mama friends who are just like me, cut from the same cloth, who know my heart sometimes better than I know it myself. I also have mama friends who know that, a play-date isn’t a play date, until there is a cocktail planted firmly in hand. I have old friends who swear to me, that they will love me, no matter what happens. And while sitting fast under the term family, and perhaps not friends— I have a brother and mother who, while I tend to be the biggest shit in their lives, unconditionally love me to no end. When at the end of the day, I make my lists of blessings, all of these people often occupy the top spots.
- Back to Pops. It’s been a year this weekend since we got to have a real conversation, and share a meal together. A year since I saw him take a breath on his own, a year since there weren’t tubes lined up in every vein. I keep waiting for every first milestone to slip by, and yet, they hit me like stones, deep welts and hard bruises left behind. I found out from a newish friend that he had lost his mom just five years back, under a similar veil of a quick, devastating illness and life support decisions – and I asked, “does it get better?” And- I waited for him to shake his head yes. But no was the nod instead.
“No,” he said. “It just gets different.”