Notes to self.

I got out today and got my hair cut and highlighted (highlit?  What’s the past tense of “highlight?).  I also dropped of 2 boxes at UPS, returned cans and bottles, went to the meat market to pick up a quarter side of beef that a friend and I are splitting and went to friend’s house to divvy the bounty that is yummy, yummy steak.  I spent alot of time not being touched by grimy little hands, looking at myself in the salon mirror and about 85 miles in the car.  Needless to say, there was some self reflection going on (get it? snort.).  Oh, and I’m growing grey hairs like gangbusters.  How does that happen?  When did I get to the point of asking my stylist to please nip one after another silver sproing-y hair sticking straight up from my head?

First and foremost, I need more sleep.  I don’t know how I’m going to get it.  I went to bed at a reasonable time last night and still laid there for more than an hour, waiting to drop off.  I can’t have that.  Because if I’m not asleep in 10 minutes or less, my thoughts get the better of me.  And then I might as well get up and pour a bowl of Lucky Charms because I’m really up for a while. 

Second, I’m going to start the “process” to get a breast reduction.  I don’t know what the process is but I would like to get the ball rolling.  The twins out front need a nip and tuck.  Or..whatever they do.  I don’t really want to know.  But I think I would feel alot better about myself if I could bend over to shave below my knees and not have to wipe shaving cream off my nipple.  Or fit into a real shirt that isn’t so boxy.  To be honest, I’m scared to have surgery again.  I had my gallbladder out and, as I told the anestesiologist, I was grateful for the nap (the surgery was the same day that they found Stephen’s brain tumors).  I know that surgery is pretty safe these days.  It’s not often that you hear of someone as healthy as I am dying on the table.  And yet, it’s elective.  And I have two little girls that are missing a father.  Wouldn’t it be a real tragedy if they lost a mother as well?  Especially if the surgery was just so she could wear a haltertop dress that didn’t look like a maternity dress?  So that she could jog without giving herself a black eye?  So that she wouldn’t be scared to get properly measured for a bra?  To buy a bra with only one letter?  Do or don’t do?  It depends on the day but today, looking at my head in foils, I didn’t like that my arms can’t go all the way to my side.  They stick out a bit because of the ample boobs.  Ample boobs.  Heh.  Sounds like a trashy romance novel.

And third, the radio played at least half of what we called the “White Album” while I was driving.

Back down memory lane, it was early summer 2001.  Our friendship had gone from “just friends” to “completely smitten” in a matter of weeks (we had known each other for well over a year at this point and he was recently divorced from a woman who worked in my building).  I had already planned a trip back to Nebraska for a week with the family.  Being newly in love, I didn’t want to go but did.  We spoke only 3 times the whole week and I couldn’t get back to Iowa fast enough.  While I was gone, he got together with a buddy and they cruised Napster (back when it didn’t cost a buck a song or whatever it is these days) and picked out music for a mix CD for us.  He titled it “A Place in My Heart” and the date was July 15, 2001 (exactly 3 years later, Ella was born).  The blank disc had a white, write on label thus, “The White Album.”  It had some classic Guns N Roses, Matchbox 20, Candlebox, Fleetwood Mac, Counting Crowes.  Alot of it was what was on the radio at the moment.  Others were jukebox songs from the bar where we went after softball games.  He had a copy and I had a copy.  I still have his but mine is long scratched and worn out.  Out of the 14 songs on the disc, 6 were played on the radio this afternoon while I was driving around, doing my errands.  When things like that happen, I have to think that he has a hand in it.  It makes me think that he approves of my haircut and lighter highlights.  It makes me think that he’s happy with how the girls and I are doing.  Maybe.  Or maybe the station DJ was feeling a little 2001 today.

I had said before that I was too tired to move into being angry but I think I’m there.  It’s not a violent anger that I expected.  But I’m angry that cancer took my future away too.  I’m angry that our lives are forever with a hole because of what happened.  I’m angry that I have to be scared of everything.  And I’m angry that I have to make all these decisions alone. 

I’m sure there are lots of people in the world that would like to go back to the care free, pre-war days of July 2001.  I know I do.  I also know that, despite everything, I still would have loved him.  I still would have married him.  Even if I had known.  6 years with him wasn’t enough, that’s for sure.  But I’m glad I had them.

I found a card that I had given him when we were dating.  It was one of those “just because” cards.  He had kept it in his journal all this time.  The “greeting” on the inside said “I know I wasn’t your first love but I’m glad that I am your last love.”