Geography makes all the difference! October 31, 2007

On my visit to Duluth, coffee addict that I am, I discovered a coffee shop that was both incredibly cool and – for me at least – chuckle inducing.

You see, I live in Southern California, where the name of this place would be likely to incite riots.

Beaner’s Central is a cool little coffee house and small live venue for some pretty terrific music. The place has a really cool vibe and some equally great coffee. I had to buy one of their hand thrown clay mugs just to prove to my fellow Californians that such a place did exist. The place proudly proclaims that they compost and recycle everything possible.

Now, why can’t I find a great place like this locally? The closest I’ve come around here is Cosmos Coffee in La Mesa – and I do love Cosmos – great coffee, food’s pretty decent and the people watching outside is terrific, but… it’s just not quite the same as Beaner’s. Which, I have to say, is a pretty cute and clever name for a coffee shop, despite the fact that the name simply would not fly in the southwest.

Ah, what a difference geography makes!

Duluth will never be the same…. October 30, 2007

Anyone who knows, and I mean really knows, any of my immediate family (including Yours Truly here) and especially anyone who has ever seen us all together, knows that we’re a rather, ah… interesting group of people. Add to that equation a bit of alcohol and you might be in for a rollicking good time, or the most frightening time of your life, all depending upon your outlook.

As all of us gathered in the relatively quiet city of Duluth for Mom’s services, it occurred to me – that town will never be the same!

Funeral directors didn’t quite know how to handle a small and not so quiet bunch who, eyes red-rimmed from crying, spoke of a life of laughter and love – and they laughed together, celebrating a much as mourning. Nor did they know what to do about that same small bunch who, after all the others had left, started making funeral jokes. It’s just the way we deal with things. Hey, Mom taught us that laughter is as necessary as air!

The weather was wonderful – cold to us native Southern Californians, but still nice. The days were more clear than cloudy and there was no rain or snow. The people were nice – unerringly polite. But once again, within 24 hours, I had enough of that Northern accent to last me a lifetime. Ohhh, okay. Ya, sure, you betcha.

And so with that, a small collection of photos – our little family’s farewell to Mom!

That would be her… in that pic she’s still a teenager… And the roses? When she and Tom married, she had peach roses in her bouquet.

Yeah, those are my sisters… And if you really must know about the loverly shot on the anchor – ask, but I warn you, it’s a long story.

Mom’s hubby and my brother (yes, that young thing on the left is Mom’s hubby – yes, she “robbed the cradle.”)

We gave Mom a proper send off – getting not-so-quietly toasted after the services, and traipsing out into the Minnesota night to wave some sparklers around (she liked the silly things, OK?)

A little sight seeing in Two Harbors…

A great view of the St Louis River – from some rest area off the 35 (and ask me if I can recall the name of the darn rest area?)

Close to sunset – looking back from the lighthouse in Duluth. That’s the lift bridge. The terrific color comes not from PhotoShop, but from taking the picture through my sunglass lenses.

California Burning October 24, 2007

Yep – I’m in the middle of it.

Our home is safe, we’re not really that close to any danger areas – but we’ve got fires going on three sides of us. While we’re not threatened, the air is horrible.

I have friends and coworkers who don’t know yet if their homes still stand. Several others who know their homes are OK, but don’t know when they’ll be able to return to them. And even then there is the damage from smoke, ash, water, etc that comes along with a fire and fire fighting efforts.

Tomorrow morning, I board a plane to Duluth – I fly away from the craziness here into a different kind of craziness – the family funeral. Mom’s memorial is Saturday. I’m still in shock…

Telling the kids was rough. Dealing with this while at the same time juggling work that has piled up because the office was closed for two days, now we’re behind deadlines and everyone on edge for not knowing – it makes me feel as if I’ve stepped into a Dali – I’m not sure if that wall that I reach to for support will really be there, or if it will melt away at my touch.

The air tastes nasty and smells worse… It wasn’t that long ago that the Cedar fire raged through, and now again…

Simply craziness.

I love you Mom! October 21, 2007

July 8, 1938 – October 21, 2007

Only a few days ago, I sat in this very chair, writing about accepting the aging of my mother, about how tough it was to look at her and realize she was suddenly “old”.

Today, I mourn.

The call came right after I got home from the dog park, I hadn’t even cleaned up yet, standing in my bathroom, flip-flop clad feet still dusty, washing the grit and dog slobber off my hands.

I knew something was wrong the instant I answered the phone, Tom (Mom’s husband) was upset. I figured she was back in the hospital.

When he said it was a bad day, a really, really bad day I knew it wasn’t the hospital.

She died sometime during the night – passing away peacefully in her sleep.

And I am bouncing between those extremes of shock and disbelief, and simply falling into pieces.

I don’t know how I am going to tell my kids that Grandma isn’t here anymore.

I talked to her on the phone on Friday. She sounded better, chipper, positive. Things were improving and she was feeling better. I told her I would call again on Sunday.

I make the phone calls I don’t want to make, arrange a flight I don’t want to fly, start thinking about what needs done at work in order for me to take the time off, and a million other pieces of busy work that serve both as constant reminder and distraction.

And the tears flow.

Not tears for her, but tears for my loss, for my children’s loss – and I let them come.

Never go to bed with a wet head… October 20, 2007

Saturday morning – I’ve got plans with the kids. I stumble out of bed, take one look in the mirror and realize it’s going to take longer than usual to get ready.

I’m normally a 30-minutes from bed to door kinda gal. Not today! I made the mistake of showering late last night and going to bed with wet hair. Whoops. Anyone who has any amount of wave or curl will tell you that’s a big no-no!

So, I woke up with something that resembled a Halloween Fright Wig residing on my head. Ugh!

This is not what I call an attractive look!

No amount of taming, combing, goop-application, or any other of the various tricks in my hair management arsenal would bring order to the chaos that had seemingly taken over my locks.

It just was not happening.

I learned long ago to just give up and quit fighting my mop. But this time, it was to be a battle. Even the Almighty Pony Tail, tamer of frizzy mops, rescuer of limp locks and all around go-to-do was not sufficient for the beast on my head.

What to do, when all of your efforts at taming, or even simply getting the frizz to look reasonably deliberate have failed, and despite your best efforts, you still look like all you need in order to play an extra in some hideous horror flick is a little creepy makeup?

Alright, I may be able to live with this, if I were simply sticking around the house, but not for going out in public, and certainly not with two middle school age children tagging along – those creatures who are already embarrassed simply by the act of having a parent.

No, this would not do! Drastic measures needed to be taken!

To the shower!

Yes, it seemed that was my only choice. To rewash already clean hair in order to bring some sanity to my scalp… The result? Worth the effort, I think.