hula hoops and hampster wheels

So it's approaching. One year since my dad died. Grief is funny - it sneaks up on you once you think you're ok and reached some sort of acceptance, something pops into your head when you least expected. A year ago - I would have said I have a pretty healthy grieving process - I've lost grandparents and aunts and uncles and great aunts and great uncles and pets and friends and yet nothing really prepares you for losing a parent. I don't know if I'm doing it right - but I get up each day, put my pants on one leg at time and carry on - that's the plan anyway.

Everyone deals with the grasp on mortality a little different. The religious are convinced that the loved one is in heaven and safe and good. I don't really believe in the heaven/hell concept. But if there is one adage my Dad referred to was - although pessimistic and depressing, 'You start dying the day you are born' and the other classic one was 'After you die - you just die, you are put in the ground and become worm bait.' So someone asked me - knowing that my religious convictions are on that border line between non-existent and recovering if losing my dad has brought me back to Christianity. I think that quite the opposite has occurred. My dad was not a religious man - he believed what he wanted to believe and what that was I'll never know. But in the end -- we all die, Jesus will not save you from death or becoming worm bait. I guess the biggest thing that happened was the confirmation that it doesn't matter. You can believe in whatever you want - and pray as hard as you want but it doesn't change things that have or haven't happened - it can make you feel better and that can cause change - but you don't get to pray for an undo.

This may seem juvenile or selfish but I jealous when I think about things in life yet to come and how it'll be different without having my dad. Like today for instance - Clinton's dad was on the phone with his granddaughter talking about the Easter bunny coming and what she got in her basket. My dad would have been a good grandpa - a little cranky but good but I'll never really know. Or when I'm watching a chick flick movie and the bride and father have the father-daughter dance- not that I'm a big wedding person - but now I'll never have that option for the dorky dance. It's also weird to refer to everything as my mom's now - my mom's house, having Clinton meet my mom - instead of meet my parents. Or like today - I talked to my mom on the phone while at Clint's - and she said to say happy easter to everyone. So I said to Clint's mom - that my mom says Happy Easter. She then inquires oh well what are they doing? I don't know how to reply - So I just say that my mom and brother and sister are just hanging out making cake. It some how ends up sounding like my parents are divorced or I'm omitting my dad on purpose - but I just don't know what they know and I don't always feel like sharing for fear I'll start crying and being emotional girl. Then Clint who refers to his parent's as the folks - said 'I needed to get back to my folks' place for dinner' as we were leaving the brunch - so maybe he feels awkward too - or it was just a singular/plural slip up. Then there is the other obvious possibility and that is that I'm cranky and irritable and overly emotional due to having my period.

Looks like another death themed awkward moment. I'll hopefully have a more chipper awkward moment next week. Apologies for the downer topic.


Ok so there is this sorta new girl at work - we call her Cleavy McGee cause she has no concept of what the appropriate dress code entails and some how showing us her saggy mid life crisis wrinkly boobs is the icing on the cake. I've blogged about her before but not sure what alias I gave her then.

So her husband's grandma died. Now I'm not an unsympathetic person by any means - I am sorry for her and her family's loss. But she dominates almost all conversations at break at our beloved picnic table. She's "has" everything, she's "done" everything bigger, better and with more vicissitude than anyone else. Except when the topic turns to sex toys than she just sits there. In a nut shell she drives me crazy. Just be quiet and listen Cleavy. Don't interject your none-sense becuase we all hate you. (OK that made me feel a little better -- see the anger coming out! XYZ Anger Management )

So she is a self proclaimed expert on all things. Including funeral planning.
First off, my dad just past away 3 mo. ago and I don't always want to talk about it - esp. at work. But alas she has brought up the conversation. So she asked how much it cost. OK rude, If it were a pair of shoes, ok fine, still rude, a airplane ticket or gallon of gas, ok rude but understandable in the econmic times we live in. But funeral costs aren't exactly something to talk about over 15 minutes away from the compute screen. But I'm pretty straightfoward with everyone and some how have this badge of obligation to answer a question when asked, So I told her - and then she went on and on how the standard burial is better for the family and friends to process the loss vs. a cremation/ memorial.

So basically, in her "I'm better than everyone" sensability - she tells me "That's too bad that you had to cremate him a proper burial would have been better." I repeat to her how he didn't want to be buried. He wanted to be cremated and how you really have to respect the wishes of the person who has passed. Well, her husbands grandma also wanted to be cremated but they aren't doing that they are going to have the traditional burial. After all she won't know and it's really for the people who are left!

Can you believe this -- My family is crappy cause we didn't spend 10K on a "proper" burial and church hoopla - cause my dad wanted to be cremated and was an atheist. I didn't go into that last detail with her because I don't discuss faith at work even on breaks, too many people out there trying to convert.

But her family is fantastic because they are disregarding all last wishes for their beloved grandmother. And having a ridiculous pompus funeral.

I liked what we did for my dad, it was simple: flowers, urn, stories, pictures and comfortable, it allowed around 250 people to trickle in and out and it was really quite nice and I'd want something very similar for myself.


So I get mad and ignore Cleavy.

Went to lunch at Leann Chin with some friends. And who the heck shows up there -- as we are done eating? None other than Cleavy McGee. So in my blatant bluntness proclaim to the table that it is time to go. Loud enough for Cleavy to hear. Gigi and Feather finish their food and we bust out of Leann Chin's just in the nick of time.

Hope she got a rotten fortune.

Awkward Moment of the Week. So I sometimes find myself in awkward situations, often these situation are not self enduced - sometimes they are, bygones. So I'm going to pick one to share every week. Yes, my fodder for blogs is depleated at the moment.

I have a regular lunch buddy. Camille and I used to sit next adjacent to one another - but then I got moved to the other side of the building and so we don't see much of eachother now. So anyways for the last year or so we've been going to lunch together. We complain and gripe about the office happenings, talk about happenings on our home fromts. We're good friends and have fun at work and outside of work - when she drags me to the gym -- ok that was one time.

Camille has a few rug rats at home and a loving husband, but somehow she had a lapse of judgement, wanted some sort of singledom freedom and has cheated on her husband Fletcher. Well this week Camille and I were talking about lunch and Monday was bad, I had a dr. appointment. Tuesday was Lisa's birthday and I was taking her out to lunch with Maggie. So Wednesday came along and we were due for lunch.

Well wednesday came along and she buzzed me:

Buzz:
K: Yo.
C: What's for lunch?
K: Let's Jambafiy ourselves ( Gotta love Jamba Juice)
C: Ok cool, you mind if Fletcher comes too?
K: uh, yah sure
C: noon then?
K: My time of day.
C: hardee har har
K: K later.

Shit. What the hell did I agree to? Oh well it's really only an hour of my life.


I've only briefly met Fletcher -- he seems like a nice enough husband. He's a saint for putting up with Camille's infedility.


SO it wasn't as bad as I imagined. We got our Jambas and I proceeded to tell funny stories about a recent emotional breakdown caused by a missing a bc. pill and taking two in one day. Hormone overload! But basically I was so nervous about the possibility of awkwardness I just started babaling and made lunch all about me -- until I found out they just got a cat and well then I had to ask all about the cat!

We nearly finished our Jamba's and now were heading back to the office.

A couple days later - I find out that now Fletcher is begining to consider a semi-quasi sort of open relationship. And he's sending her flowers. I don't know what to think. Now, that's an awkward moment. haha. ok lame. sorry. I'll stop now.