Tuesday, April 24, 2007


Blown-out-of-proportion stress reactions to day surgery can be pacified by chocolate in all its forms. But once the surgery is over and a flicker of hope replaces the nearly two years of doubt, there's all that well-padded chocolate ass to deal with. And chocolate thighs and chocolate tummy...

Don't try to give a car away. Don't say goodbye to it in a school parking lot with misty eyes and a lump in your throat. It will end up back in your garage by 10:00pm that evening. It will. Honest to God, it will.


Everyone gets pregnant over the winter (when you can't see bumps under coats and sweaters) and then they emerge all round and glowy in the spring. Some warning would be nice. I don't think that's too much to ask of perfect strangers.


If you intend to move a birdhouse away from a garden because the last family that lived there dive-bombed you while you weeded, you should do it in the fall. Don't wait until a new family (sparrows, this time) have taken up residence in April.


Watching a documentary about four morbidly obese people (the bed-ridden, close to death kind of morbid obesity, I mean) will make the 6 pounds you've gained from eating all the pre and post-surgery chocolate and treats seem much, much, MUCH more horrendous than it probably is. Right? 6 pounds isn't all that bad, right? RIGHT????


Rabbits only look stupid.


Getting lost while you're out for a drive on a pretty, sunny day in April can be fun - but it all depends on the kind of lost. When you start seeing things you've seen three times before and you can't for the life of you figure out how to disengage yourself from the horrendous loop you're making over and over and over again, being lost ceases to be fun.


Surprise chocolate cake is the best.


Even after all this time, the enormity of losing Thomas will still crash down on me like a wall of bricks if I let my guard down and almost forget for a moment or two.


When a woman at the grocery store hands you a five dollar bill and asks if you've got change for a grocery cart, she really just wants a free quarter.


Even if you don't think you want to, babies can always make you smile.


So far 37 feels the same as 36. Maybe I should have saved all the cake for when I start noticing the difference.


I never saw any of this coming. The loss and grief of these past four years has been hurtling its way towards me since the moment I took my own first breath - and I never saw it coming.

Thank God for small mercies.


Ruby said...

Your car is back?

I hope your soon sporting one of those under-the-coat-bumps yourself:)

Babies can, can't they? Even if I don't want to look because I don't want to bawl in public...again. Then I look and even if I cry too, I smile at the baby first.

stephanie said...

Obviously, there's more to the rabbit story....
And six pounds is nothing. You've torched 'em before, you'll torch 'em again.
And hurray for the flicker of hope!

Lori said...

I'm dying of curiosity about the car and the rabbit! ;-)

delphi said...

I dreamt of chocolate cake last night... because of this post, I think!

niobe said...

I'm with Stephanie and Lori about the rabbit story. Please, please tell us.

And the six pounds will be gone before you know it.