In case you were wondering...

This is what the Mother of All Juicers looks like--here's hoping someone finds her devastatingly attractive, eh? (She is a shiny creation, no?)

It's the most heartbreaking time of the year....

Am finding it hard to believe that Christmas is over. Christmas Eve was a beautiful service at church with hugs galore; Christmas morning was spent taking my sweet time getting ready, walking the Bombshell, then visiting Chloe & Isaiah's moms for a bit. The rest of Christmas was spent with my dear friend Jennifer and her beau Scott; we went to the movies ("It's Complicated," a nice piece of fluff, as long as one doesn't contemplate it too long) and then had dinner (Jennifer knows her way around the kitchen, let me tell you!). Sweetness all around.

Speaking of sweetness, during my visit to the under-three set, Chloe said something very dear about my taking good care of Linda to make her better; brought tears to my eyes for a number of reasons. The most tear-inspiring being Chloe's take on things and the fact that my care wasn't enough to save our gal. I know, I know--a number of the best oncologists on the Eastern Seaboard (if not in the entire U.S.) couldn't save our gal either, so there's plenty of ineffectiveness to go around.

Nearly four months out, I am missing Linda more. Found myself in her closet yesterday, gathering an armful of her shirts for an inanimate group hug. Was reassuring, somehow.

Was wondering if I was ready to send her clothes packing yet. I don't think so.

Well, I was going to attempt to load some photos from the camera this afternoon (pictures of the demon juicer, most urgently), so close I must. Before I do, allow me to pass on something a dear colleague at Big Company wrote to me last week. I don't remember it verbatim, but she wrote that after about 20 tries at coming up with the right holiday wish for me, she landed on this: "May your holidays not suck as much as they could."

Works for me. Wishing all that--and more--for you.

Maybe The Comedy will help?

Have signed up for an open mic this Thursday in Palmer. Yes, that's about an hour away from here, but it's not as though there are gadzillions of open mics from which to choose in Northampton, yes?

And I shouldn't complain about that state of affairs unless I'm willing to do something about it, like start up an open mic myself (which is really about as likely as my becoming the Queen of Romania).

The details re Thursday's fun (dare we hope?):

The Route 20 Funnies
Thursday December 17, 2009 @ 8pm
Hosted by Ian Shea and Forris Day Jr.
At Crossroads Sports Bar on Rt 20 in Palmer, MA
crossroadsrt20.com

Otherwise, I have more plans for Christmas (in addition to dinner and movies): Hooray! Still, today at work we had a meeting with a speaker who felt compelled to tell many stories featuring widows. Of course, I work at a business that caters to the widow proposition, so I get it. But I could have lived without hearing so many references to the "w" word, you know?

On other fronts, at tonight's bereavement group we began a "show and tell" series, where members of the group tell the story of their loved one who has recently died. Heartbreaking, but sweet. My turn isn't for two weeks, which is just fine with me. Linda's obituary appeared in today's mail, courtesy of the latest issue of The Lesbian Connection. It was surprisingly jarring to see it, even though I submitted it for publication.

More proof that Linda is no longer here. The desire to shout, "Craptastic!" persists.

Grief Months Three and Four: Things get worse. Hooray!

Had a good weekend, which is no small thing when one has a slight fog bank developing between one's ears.

Friday night was games night at B and D's, and it was good to spend some time with them in a non-funeral or medical environment. Progress! Well, for the most part. For a minute I felt it was a big mistake to be there (have been feeling more down this past week, and didn't know if I could rally to the occasion), but I managed to, again for the most part.

Saturday I took an old friend/coworker from NYC to lunch. She loves all things Dalai Lama, so of course I took her to the Lhasa Cafe. Delicious! Spiritual! What's not to like?!

Saturday night was dinner at H's with said NYC friend as well, and it was good to hang with the old gang. Though I must say, I don't miss the job. At all. The people one works with, however, are always the thing that make a job worth doing, and this job was no exception.

Today was church, of course, and I found myself agreeing to a volunteer gig that starts in March (am hoping I'll feel more like myself by then...or a reasonable facsimile). It was suggested to me years ago to never say no to a service opportunity (though I did say no to something right after Linda passed--I think there are limits to any suggestion, don't you?).

This afternoon I had plans to tackle paperwork, but tackled other things instead. Watched a few episodes of the "Vicar of Dibley" (I think that's how you spell it), a mild British comedy that I love, then put up some new and different pictures in the bedroom and living room, as well as the guest room (which is really Linda's room still). Then, as it was snowing out, I found the need for a nap, and Shwea and I had a short but sweet snooze.

This evening I tackled a recipe that required the use of a food processor. Linda and I resisted the purchase of a food processor for some reason, but why I cannot say. Since I don't remember why, I decided to buy a food processor so I could make this recipe. And other things, I imagine. Eventually.

My maiden voyage with the processor was to make a pesto sauce with almonds and cheese and other lovely things. Miracle of miracles, it actually turned out to be very tasty.

It certainly felt better to eat this than something I ordered by phone or picked up at a restaurant, I'll tell you that. Problem is it took a silly amount of time to make, but at least I have enough of it for a good long while.

Last but not least, I finally took pictures of the enormous juicer that has been taking up about a third of my counter space, and then--this qualifies as yet another miracle--I packed it up in its box and got it ready to go.

So, I may not have tackled paperwork, but I tackled a good number of other things. Happy day! Well, for the most part. I'll take it....

Oh, crap--I forgot to make plans!

It's just beginning to dawn on me that all the plans that Linda and I had are out the window.

I need to make new plans. Not today, thank Whomever, but one o' these days.

Just had a good, relaxing weekend with my brother and sister-in-law in the Delmarva region of the world, aka Lower, Slower Delaware. Wondered if I might want to live down there someday, maybe when I retire. Linda and I always said we wished we lived closer to those crazy kids; maybe that should be part of my new plan.

But then, maybe not. It might be foolish to leave a state that actually considers me a full citizen. (That sigh of relief you hear is coming from my brother.)

Otherwise, I find that I am having more trouble remembering things. This, apparently, is normal for grieving people around three or four months after their dearly beloved slips off the mortal coil, according to a member of my bereavement group.

I'm more forgetful, but it's normal. Hope I remember that next time I forget something.... (Won't pursue that train of thought any further; getting dizzy just contemplating it.)

Better not make plans, either.

I'll probably just forget them, eh?

Back-to-back "firsts"

Went to Cambridge and the Comedy Studio with Jennifer and Scott last night, not to perform, but to watch Jennifer and a host of other comics work their magic (always a treat) and to dip my toe back into the comedy scene I so adore. Asked the dear impresario of the establishment, Rick, if I may be able to get back into the lineup there, and his response was affirmative, followed by a very sweet, "I am so happy to see you smile!"

Ah, comics as sweet peas--it is a recurring, if baffling, theme in this existence. Go figure.

The show was sold out, and but for an extraordinarily drunk group of guys (celebrating one of their number's 40th birthday--there but for the grace o' you-know-who go I), it was a delight. Anyway, as we drove out of Cambridge and were passing through some very familiar terrain, I had the feeling that we should be heading somewhere else. Alas, the events of the past year or so have turned Cambridge from the home of my favorite standup space to a place where Linda and I stayed and/or drove through on our way to MassGeneral.

It occurred to me that this was the first time I had been in Cambridge since Linda passed, and of course it made sense that even though Linda was not with me, I would feel as though I was there for what had become the "usual" reason.

One of my goals for the year 2010 is to return Cambridge to its preferred status as a place I go for comedy and extraordinary Indian food--nothing else, please God.

Found myself having another "first" this afternoon as I wandered through the Open Studio at the Arts and Industry Building in Florence. As I soaked in the incredible variety of art and crafts and things that defy category one finds there, I found myself repeatedly wanting to talk to Linda about what I'd seen. Artists who had changed their work dramatically from years past; new, quirky pieces that might have a place in our home; and if sister-in-law Donna would like a certain item of jewelry. I missed her curiosity and her opinions (which she had in abundance, to put it mildly). I found it very strange to buy something for the living room without her approval, but decided that if it's not still hanging when I get home tomorrow, I'll have my answer.

Odds are she's well past caring what's hanging in our living room, of course, but one never knows.

Well, I have some tidying up to do before the work week starts in earnest. Tomorrow I am going to try out the gym at work. Am wondering why I thought this was a good idea, but am hoping it will make sense tomorrow. We shall see, eh? Love from me and the heavily breathing, not yet snoring, goddess Shwea

Relief is all around us!

Had a very good benefit Thursday night, thanks in large part to the gift that is Jennifer Myszkowski, who opened (for pity's sake!) the show with a moment's notice. (We had two comics bail at the last minute.)

What a trooper! What a friend!!

I felt my set went well, which was a relief. Best of all, I managed to get through it and the Linda bits without getting the least bit weepy. Had a small lump in my throat here and there, but nothing that got in the way of The Comedy.

Plus, we made a good chunk o' change for the Cancer Connection, which, of course, was the point.

And as far as I know, I still have my job (the head of my department at Big Company was in the audience, which added a level of danger in my mind--here's hoping it was all in my mind, eh? 8-). While I mention my years of substance abuse, I also mention that this "phase" ended about 20 years ago, so I should be fine.....right?

Right?!

Whatever, thanks to all who supported this most incredible cause!

Yesterday I met with another CPA, who I actually understood. She offered some advice that I acted upon as soon as I returned home, which I took as a very good sign. (Ann Podolske is not usually a Woman of Action where finances are concerned.)

That's another big pile of relief, for I know I need someone to navigate Linda's returns for 2009 (and that someone certainly isn't yours truly!).

Last night, I had the pleasure of going out to dinner at India House with Sky and Karen and other peeps, followed by THE lesbian event in town, a movie. It was called "Hannah Free," and featured Sharon Gless in what I think is her only official lesbian role (I say "official," for many of us thought she had tremendous potential in "Cagney & Lacey"). The film was okay, and alas there were some sad bits that inspired me to dab at my eyes (what's a girl to do?), but the best part was seeing the Academy of Music packed to the gills with women wearing sensible shoes (with, I should note, a smattering of menfolk).

This morning I had brunch with my friend Hilary at Elmer's in Ashfield--what a delightful spot! Also enjoyed a tour of Hilary's new home, which suits her just beautifully. She generously sent me home with a mirror/coat rack that will work perfectly in my living room, but doesn't fit in her home. What a peach!

Well, my next trick is to have a nap, as this rainy, gray day is tailor-made for such important business. Hope all is well with you and yours--happy day and love from me and the Buzzsaw Bombshell!

Laughs for Linda on Thursday!

In case I missed telling you this somehow, we're having a comedy benefit on Thursday, Nov. 12 at the Bluebonnet Diner. It starts at 8:00 p.m., tickets are $10, and all proceeds go to the Cancer Connection.

Disclaimer: No matter what happens on stage, the cause is just. I say this only because I and my comedy cohorts intend to be funny, but as the benefit is called "Laughs for Linda," there is a slight chance it might be a weepy night for some of us.

Some of us would be me.

I have been known to weep at the sight of Tower Square (site of Linda's former office), people, so chances are I may emit a tear or two.

On other fronts, I still haven't heard from the COMCAST rep who responded to my "COMCASTIC? You be the judge!" post. Apparently, Linda's name will remain on the bill until I drag my carcass and a death certificate to their offices. As every other vendor/utility/you-name-it that had Linda's name on it allowed me to assume the bills WITHOUT A PEEP, I think it will be a very chilly day you-know-where before I jump through COMCAST's widow-unfriendly hoops.

Am seriously considering cancelling my COMCAST and living off of Netflix for a while. What do you think?

I get my knickers in a knot over the darndest things, don't I? (No need to answer that.) Well, I could get in a high fever over the Democrats throwing Choice out the window to get health care for everyone (except ladies who need abortions) through the House, but where would that get me?

It's become clear to me that ladies who need abortions are about as expendable as members of the GLBT clan in the political scheme of things, and as someone who has fit into both of those categories over the sweep of my long and occasionally befuddling existence, I need to not take this all to heart.

But I can't help it if I find the need to slam down the phone every time the Democratic Party calls for money, because, well, that's just me exercising my right to not give money to people who throw people like me under the bus on a regular basis.

And now that I have a full lather on, I need to go wind down before bed. Wish me luck!

Thoughts and prayers

Received a sweet condolence card today from a neighbor who wrote a wonderfully (if unintentionally) insightful note.

To wit: "I am so sorry for your loss; you are thoughts and prayers."

Thinking about it, I am thoughts and prayers--that sums up my modus operandi these days quite nicely.

Did quite a bit of thinking and praying this weekend, as I did end up going to Ptown after all. Either I was feeling better or was I not sick enough to let almost $400 go down the drain--can't rightly tell you. (Feel almost completely humanoid today, in case you were wondering.) The drive there was smooth and easy, while the drive back was a slow, numbing bore--until I got off the Cape itself.

While I do enjoy the ocean and a terrifically GLBT-friendly environment as much as the next queer, I found all the rest and serenity I accumulated over the weekend sorely tested by the tedium of covering the 4.8 miles before the Borne Bridge in about an hour-and-a-half.

It irritates me that the memory of the terrible traffic is almost more pronounced than that of the dear friends, old and new, I met over the weekend.

So no, I won't be heading back to Ptown any time soon, but I do hope I get to see the old friends again--they're in NYC these days, a much easier place to get to and from--and soon.

Last night, I went to an enormous fund-raiser for a tremendous non-profit that drew every liberal for miles, or so it seemed. The organization is led by one of Chloe's moms, so I was there to support her and her family; they've been oh so very good to us, after all. It was all very interesting and motivational, until after the speeches were done and I noticed that one of the many people milling about included one of Linda's oncologists. That threw me for a loop, as seeing her sparked a sort of hyperspeed slide show in my head, followed by a sinking feeling in my stomach. (Am grateful I didn't have any appetizers, I'll tell you that!). That was followed by another one of my sudden, but short (thank God) public cries. Thankfully, the people who were seated next to me knew my story, and they were very sweet.

Ah, the sweetness makes it so much easier. Well, easier isn't really the word. Less difficult?

Today I went back to the marble halls, and had a pretty good day, considering I found myself talking about Linda's last days with someone I've worked with a time or two. It felt very good to talk about it, and better still to have another person validate my feelings on how Linda left this life. It was terrible, true, but it was beautiful. It was an honor and a privilege to have supported and been witness to her journey, and I hope my brain will allow me to keep the memories and feelings alive for as long as I live.

Well, that's enough for a Monday, I dare say. Love from me and the--three guesses--snoring sweetness, aka Shwea

Pride goeth before the fall....

Just the other day, I was thinking about how remarkably healthy I've been, considering all of the cold sufferers in my midst in the marble halls at Big Company. We've had a regular "1812 Overture" of sneezes and coughs in my department this week, thanks in part to it being busy season and in part to people not having the sense God gave geese. (We can work from home now, people. It's company policy, for pity's sake.)

The second I thought that, I also thought, "Crap, now you've done it. You're going to get sick." Then I tried to think positively, starting a mantra along the lines of, "I am healthy and free of all sickness."

So much for that.

Yesterday afternoon, I was in the marble halls and found myself having what felt like a major allergy attack. Alas, it was the sudden onset of a head cold, and I stayed home today, spending many hours decimating my household Kleenex population.

One of the many implications of this cold is that I may be out of a chunk of change, as I had reserved a room in a nice B&B in Provincetown this weekend. If you're familiar with the cancellation policies of B&Bs in Provincetown, you know that they require much more lead time (21 days, in my case) for cancellations than a cold allows.

Sigh.

I asked the proprietors of the B&B to see if they could find a new tenant for the weekend. Here's hoping! (If you are suddenly compelled to go to Ptown, allow me to recommend the room called "Three Sisters" at the White Porch Inn. It's a beaut!)

Of course, I could feel all better by tomorrow. It could happen. Maybe?

This appears to be a week for such things. On Tuesday, I had a plumber over to fix the outside faucet that wouldn't shut off, and he found that the main shutoff valve for the entire house didn't work. In a word: Yikes! So, the City and the plumber are coming back tomorrow to fix that.

Ain't we got fun?

Also on Tuesday, my monitor went black. It had been flickering here and there, but it went really, truly black. So, I called the local techies I like (Tech Cavalry), and one of their guys came by. The monitor was beyond fixing, alas, and I had to buy a new one.

You can't say I'm not doing my part for the local economy.

Well, I think it's now getting close to time to go back to bed, in the hopes I can coax this cold right outta my carcass in time for the weekend.

Doubtful, but a gal can dream, can't she? Hope you're all well (but don't gloat about it!) and happy. Love, Ann and the Bombshell (who asked me to add that she is very happy her person stayed home today instead of going to work).

Another multi-day post of preposterous proportion

My, I have been busy. (Warning: Am going to try to remember what's been going on from memory, so odds are good something will be lost/mangled in the shuffle.)

Wednesday night I went to a farewell dinner for a colleague who was "reorganized" out of a job. Was very touched to see how many people came from the office to bid her adieu.


Have been "reorganized" in the past, so have much compash for my former cohort. She's doing her own revival of the Unsinkable Molly Brown, bless her heart, and I am sure that attitude will serve her well in the months to come. (If she's even footloose and fancy free that long.)


Thursday night was the caregiver support group, which I am still attending. Began to wonder early in the meeting this Thursday whether I should still be part of it, but by meeting's end I was able to offer some helpful info to a couple of the newbies in the group, so maybe I am being of service. It helps me to listen to everyone, to bear witness and to think, "Linda had that happen, too," or "I ran into the same thing with Dr. X," so I guess I'll keep going until they need my spot for someone else.


Friday during the day I had lunch with then sat with a friend at Baystate while her sweetie had a mastectomy. It was good to have a chance to babble (neatly keeping her preoccupied--slick, eh?) and to be able to do unto others as others have so kindly done unto me and my gal. Happily, the news from the surgeon was good, and I took notes for my friend as she made her post-op pronouncements (for if my experience is any indication, one cannot retain a thing said by someone who has operated on one's sweetie, particularly when she is still wearing her scrubs).

That night I did very little (if memory serves), and enjoyed sleeping in Saturday morning a lot. Shwea let me, too, which was mighty nice of her. After breakfast and Her Highness's walk were out of the way, I went after the no-longer-glorious morning glories in the front yard. Thanks to the bitter cold, their magnificent blooms and leaves had all wilted--over the shrubs in front of the house, over the "tepee" Linda bought expressly for their growing pleasure, and over the fence on the side of the yard (where the heart formed). It took some clipping and pulling, but I unearthed all of the dearly departed glories, put the fence back in an upright position, and now things look much nicer.

As I did this job, I found myself wondering if I was doing it "right" (i.e., how Linda would do it 8-). Linda has not been forthcoming, which I take as a good sign. If I was mucking things up terribly, she'd let me know somehow, of this I am certain.

Saturday afternoon I went to a coffee for Mayor Higgins, who is running for another two-year term (she's served 10 years altogether). Her opponent is running a rather thin campaign, but it's been fairly successful, for the mayor has been in office long enough to have P.O.'d a number of very vocal (and occasionally rude) people. She neatly debunked or thoroughly addressed all of the official criticisms of her work to date. Some of the unofficial arguments against the mayor are rather hilarious--one being that it's time to get rid of the queers in the mayor's office. Problem with that is her opponent is a gay man, which is something he's been very, very quiet about. Some of his supporters appear to be of the "Keep Your Government Hands Off My Medicare!" persuasion, so he's just being sensible, I suppose.

Saturday night I went with some friends to dinner and a GLBT international film festival at the high school (ah, if only my high school had such events...sigh). It was fun, if overlong (I was up well past 10:30--yikes!). Sunday I did manage somehow to get to church (late, of course), and enjoyed the service and my church family enormously. We added some new members today, which is always cheering, and very, very sweet.

This afternoon I took a ride out to the cottage to retrieve water cooler-size bottle of water I left out there for some strange reason. Good thing, for it was 30 degrees inside the cottage and it had begun to snow. Yes, snow. I swept all the leaves and slush off the deck, but otherwise just picked up the water and got out of there before the weather got even sillier. It's only about an hour away, but boy, the weather is different--and not in a good way this time of year. I also made a trip to the local outlet mall, as I can't help myself. Picked up some more work clothes, since I need to appear in the marble halls more often these days.

Now I must pack it up and move it out--it's getting late (for me), and tomorrow is Monday, alas. Before I close, I should note that tonight my friends Val and Joan made a very interesting proposition regarding vacationing together in early 2010, and it might fall under the heading of "What are you waiting for?!" Some details need to be worked out, but I will let you know if I take them up on their kind, kind offer. We shall see, sweeties! Love, Ann and the Snoring Wonderdog

It's that--bam!--time of the year

How did it get to be Tuesday? Time and I are not on speaking terms, apparently. It appears I may be taking on a volunteer gig at church that entails being able to read the calendar and various scheduling duties. This may be a stretch for me, as I couldn't figure out which month was the next to have five Sundays.

Maybe it's a math thing, which I never understood. But perhaps I drag that ol' shortcoming out when it doesn't really apply. (A 50-year-old who can't read the calendar is likely challenged by more than math.)

Does grief reduce one's I.Q.? If so, I could be in serious trouble, folks, for as many of you know, I also have, to my discredit, a less-than-brilliant drinking career, which didn't do much for my memory banks.

Is it time to start labeling my furniture and appliances?

Okay, perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself here, but I do worry.

Let's talk about happier things, shall we? Yesterday was one of those freakishly "on" days I have about once every six years or so. (Or so it feels lately.) I was able to get to work early for a women's leadership event (i.e., we had a speaker and free breakfast--sign me up!), then proceeded to take care of several pieces of business in short order. Last night, to top it all off, I went to the local staging of the second phase of The Laramie Project (don't recall it's "official" name, sorry). It was wonderful, it was long, it was sad, it was important. And I knew some of the performers, which always makes things more fun and interesting.

Today, though, I had a productivity-related hangover of some sort. I could barely crawl out of bed and take care of the Bombshell in time to take my car in for its 1,000 mile checkup (well, 1,400 miles, thanks to this weekend's trip) at 8 a.m.

After that, I found it very hard to get anything really, completely done. Started, on its way, but done? Nope. Even tried doing a load of laundry, to try to get something accomplished, but then I killed the washer (or it committed suicide; it's really hard to say). It just died, while I was on the phone with my manager (of course), and it is only a little over three months old. Let's hear it for Consumer Reports!

A little while after that happened, a bird flew right into one of the panes of the large bay window in the living room. Ah, it's that time of year again, when all the birds congregate on our dogwood trees to eat the red berries that proliferate now. I don't know if some of the birds have too many berries to fly safely, or they get too excited by the bounty, or what's impairing my feathered friends, but every dogwood berry season (if there is such a thing), a bird or two flies into our living room window. No one has been seriously hurt, I'm happy to report, but it is quite jarring to hear the sound of bird meeting glass. Bam!

Well, one of today's good pieces of news is tomorrow I get to stay home to work again. The repair people at Sears (thankfully, my washer is under warranty) committed to be here sometime between 8 and 5--isn't that helpful? Almost COMCASTIC, say I.

Speaking of the cable company who belongs in the Red Tape Hall of Shame, today I finished changing all of the remaining bills that had Linda's name on them to mine, and not ONE of these providers required me to come in to an office, a la COMCAST. They didn't even ask for a copy of Linda's death certificate. They just DID it.

I braced myself for trouble when I called Verizon, for I had to cancel Linda's cell phone (completely forgot about that). Knowing how loathe cell phone companies are to lose customers, I thought I might have a struggle on my hands, but there was none. They asked if anyone might want her account and number, but that was about it. Sweet.

So, COMCAST is still leading the Puddin'head Parade as far as yours truly is concerned. They did make me appreciate my other service providers, I will give them that--as a result of their preposterous policies, I was moved to thank each rep I spoke to today who made the name change with ease for making my life that much easier.

One last thing before I'll stop and spare you for today. Late this afternoon, I had to stop in at our attorney's office to sign something and drop off a check. On the way there, I saw a cute couple of young gals walking down Market Street holding hands, and it gave me a pang. Even though Linda and I were never quite cute, nor were we young very long, we did hold hands. Sigh.

This has been a heck of a day, in other words, and after writing this all out, I'm just tuckered. Shwea, of course, is well on her way to Dreamland, and I will be there soon. Good night, friends. Love from me and the Bombshell

Road trip tested!

Took my new wheels for their maiden "voyage" today, down to Cold Spring, NY to visit Father John and his missus. Until old age and infirmity made travel impossible, Fr. John was the leader of the spiritual retreats Linda and I used to go to in Connecticut (we met at one, too, as many of you know). The Padre is still a nut, which is something I like in my spiritual guides (naturally).

Also got to spend some time with a merry band of New Yorkers who also descended upon his home today, all people I have been on retreat with at one time or another. Such vibrant, loving, witty people--and very sweet about my gal (she would have loved today's excursion, and I thought of her often--esp. when someone said something slightly scandalous). Did me a world of good to see them all, and I am looking forward to getting back in the retreat swing of things as soon as I can.

Well, we had a small banquet of church food, for lack of a better way to put it--casseroles, potato salad, baked beans, the gamut. After that, we needed a walk, so we went to a local tourist destination called Boscobel, which featured a mansion, gardens and a breathtaking view of the Hudson River, including West Point. It was so gorgeous, I just sat and soaked it all in while my friends wandered through the gardens (I've seen a lot of gardens; stunning views of the Hudson? Not so much). It was the sort of spot that cries out for either painting or photography, and the latter was happening a lot--two large wedding parties had their photos taken while we were there.

What a sweet day! I not only had a grand time with my peeps in Cold Spring and taking in the sights, my new car was a joy to drive on this long-ish trip, esp. once I figured out how to turn up the volume of the nice lady who gives directions (she was so quiet, I could only hear her with the music off--that's just no way to drive!). The trip was almost three hours each way, and it went very, very smoothly. Might have to schedule a drive down to D.C. next--we shall see....

In case you're wondering, Shwea was taken care of quite beautifully by her primary during-the-week sitter while I was off joy riding. She acted as though I had been gone days, not hours, when I first arrived, but is now back in default snore mode. Methinks I should get to my own default mode soon, as I have church tomorrow and a bit of work to tend to, now that my roadtrip is behind me--but what a hoot it was!

Ain't gonna study war no more, indeed

What a day this has been! The name-change issue is still up in the air with our friends at the [name unmentioned for fear they'll post again--that was a little spooky] cable company, but I managed to have a good day of work anyway.

Just got back from joining Karen and Sky at a--get this--Holly Near concert in town. Am so glad I said "Yes" to this notion. At 60, Holly's voice is even better than I remember it (though don't ask me when I last heard her), and she is a wonderfully accessible performer. To top it all off, she has a good sense of humor, so we were all charmed, I'm sure. (Of course we were; the room was 99.4% dykesaurus.)

And I only cried once, which was far better than I thought I'd do (I cried at a "Retire Well" seminar at work this week when the word "spouse" was trotted out one time too many for my comfort, for pity's sake). With this recent history, I worried that a Holly Near concert would be a veritable minefield of Kleenex opportunity. The killer was when she asked how many women in the audience were married, and I found myself on the horns of a dilemma. Linda and I were married, true, but we're not technically married any more, if I recall the "till death us do part" business correctly. That said, I still feel married, which is why I'll be wearing my civil union/wedding ring for a good while.

Seeing my discombobulation at this query, Karen and Sky were kind enough to pat me and hand me a tissue. Such sweet peas, those two!

Now I'm back home, listening to Shwea snore (how unusual, eh?), and it sounds just wonderful. Might be joining her soon, and should, as I may be heading off on a wee adventure tomorrow. Have a little catch in my throat, though, so I'm going to wait and see how I feel in the morning. Am hoping it's just due to allergies, my mini-weep and/or my singing along with Holly (it can't be helped).

We shall see...

Comcastic? You be the judge!

The following exchange transpired via chat, which I turned to when my call to COMCAST was cut off after being on hold a minute or two:

Ann(Fri Oct 9 10:28:35 EDT 2009)>My spouse, Linda Small, is the name on our account number X. She passed away on 9/4/09, and I want to change the name on the account to mine. Thanks for your help, A
analyst Michel has entered room
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:29:08 EDT 2009)>Hello Ann_, Thank you for contacting Comcast Live Chat Support. My name is Michel. Please give me one moment to review your information.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:29:09 EDT 2009)>hw.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:29:10 EDT 2009)>How are you today?
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:29:24 EDT 2009)>Okay, thanks.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:30:04 EDT 2009)>Okay, Ann. I see here that you want to change the name on the account X.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:30:06 EDT 2009)>I can definitely understand your issue. But do not worry, I would do my best to help you with that.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:30:08 EDT 2009)>I am now pulling up your account. This may take a couple of minutes.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:30:22 EDT 2009)>Okay
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:32:56 EDT 2009)>Okay, Linda. I am now documenting your request here in your account.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:32:57 EDT 2009)>Can you please give me a couple of minutes while I process this for you.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:33:07 EDT 2009)>Ann*
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:33:35 EDT 2009)>Sure--and yes, my name is Ann. 8-)
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:33:48 EDT 2009)>Yes, I am very sorry about that, Ann.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:34:07 EDT 2009)>It happens a lot, not to worry.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:35:54 EDT 2009)>Okay, Ann. I am done posting your request here in your account. However, to finalize this process you would need to go to our Local Office, so that we could further verify security and validate your request. This is to ensure that no unauthorized changes will be made in the account. Just bring any valid ID or any documents that will support your request. As for your order/request/concern, everything is on the right track and you can consider it resolved.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:36:59 EDT 2009)>I need to go to an office? This is the first time a vendor has required this step!
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:39:42 EDT 2009)>Yes, Ann. Because we could not verify information here online. The security of your account is our primary concern that is why you would need to go there to finalize the change of name. But no need to wory everything is on the right track and you can consider it resolved.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:40:32 EDT 2009)>So, Linda's name will be on the bill until I go to an office. Would I need to go to an office to cancel the account, too?
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:41:33 EDT 2009)>For cancellation no need to go to the local office, Ann. You can just call our Cancellation Department at 1-800-266-2278
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:43:35 EDT 2009)>Well, it might be easier to cancel the account than change the name on it--that's not a good business model, to put it mildly. I suggest your management consider letting people in my position send in a copy of the death certificate and spare us trips to offices for things that can be handled much more easily. I am seeing CPAs, financial planners and attorneys in the wake of my partner's death--now I need to go see Comcast? It's silly!
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:45:55 EDT 2009)>Okay, Ann. I will provide you with a work around for you request.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:46:08 EDT 2009)>I am still finding another way to fix this for you./
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:46:10 EDT 2009)>Can you please give me a couple of minutes while I process this for you.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:46:30 EDT 2009)>Sure--I have a phone meeting at 11, however.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:49:03 EDT 2009)>Okay, Ann. This is the contact details for our Local office nearest in your area.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:49:05 EDT 2009)>Center Name: Northampton Address: 71 Bradford StNorthampton MA 01060 Phone Number: 800-266-2278 Hours: Mon-Wed 9:00am-5:00pm,Thur 10:00am-5:00pm,Fri 9:00am-5:00pm 24hr drop box available
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:49:35 EDT 2009)>You can try to contact them to see if you can fax the documents at the local office.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:51:03 EDT 2009)>But this is not an assurance that the local office could process your request, Ann. Since local office policy varies per market.
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:53:03 EDT 2009)>Okay, need to go. One last thing: It took me two minutes on the phone to change the name on my Bay State Gas account. Really, really unnecessary, and I hope you pass this along. I understand you are limited by your management, however, and wish you well. Ann
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:53:25 EDT 2009)>I sincerely apologize about this, Ann. I will note your feedback here in your account.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:54:10 EDT 2009)>Have I solved your issue today, Ann by posting your request here in your account and by providing your with another possible way to finalize your request?
Ann_(Fri Oct 9 10:55:24 EDT 2009)>Not really, but I realize it's the system, not you. Please pass this along so that the next widow who is just trying to avoid the heartache of seeing her spouse's name on a bill doesn't have to jump through hoops to make it stop.
Michel(Fri Oct 9 10:55:45 EDT 2009)>Yes, Ann. I will certainly do that for you.

Cranky combo-platter #4,567

Since the Full Moon (aka the first-month anniversary of Linda's passing), I have noticed myself a little less than charitably inclined towards life's little irritations and irritants. Okay, I've been cranky. So cranky, I am beginning to wonder if a pair or two of Linda's contrary underwear were part of my inheritance.

I even dropped an F-bomb earlier today--no, make that two. Of course, it is a rare day when a gal manages to get twisted up in her dog's leash and spills half a cup of hot coffee on her pants while picking up dog doo. Definitely merited a twofer in the "bomb" category, I'd say.

Perhaps it's the pressure from work (note to self: next time you have to take leave for any reason, try not to come back from said leave during the height of busy season and/or after a layoff, okay?). Perhaps it was my need to discuss money matters more than once this week (though I met with a financial person today who seems very promising, I'm happy to note). Perhaps it's just grief, or sorrow, or just big, fat sadness taking on a cranky guise.

This is probably not a multiple choice matter. Yet another combo-platter, I'm guessing. Sigh.

Yes, I am functioning, but not at 100%. Am getting "must dos" done, but not much else. That is going to have to do for now, and if anybody doesn't like it, he or she is just going to have to [fill-in-your-favorite-physical-insult-here].

Thank God for friends, for sweetness, for Shwea. For God, too, for that matter (he/she/it finds me very amusing, from what I can see).

Oh well, that's something, eh?

Back in the saddle....

And Lord, am I tired! This working business is just knocking me out. I really, really want to go to bed--and it's 7:50 p.m., for pity's sake. This is actually progress. Last night, I wanted to go to be at 7:00 p.m., but I hadn't walked the Bombshell yet (and you know that her constitutionals are required by law).

It was quite okay in many ways to be back at work, though. Hugs all around from colleagues, and my dear team left a big purple balloon bouquet in my cubicle, as well as a gift bag featuring a book and a big purple (yes, there's a theme at work here) robe. Sweetness! Oh, and chocolate turtles made with macadamia nuts--sheer heaven!

Poor Shwea didn't care about the gift bag, poor pup. She's so not happy that I'm back at work. She follows me even more closely around the house than before, and apparently sulks but good when I'm gone (according to Aunt Mary, formerly known as the Singing Juicer, who tended our gal on Monday). I had the nerve to shut the bathroom door the other day, and you would have thought a band of thieves had broken into the house, she carried on so. She was just miffed that I had shut her off from her person. "Da noive!" as we don't say in Massachusetts.

As for life beyond work, I have been invited out to see and do things, but have turned a lot of these dear invites down. I just don't have the gumption, you know? That said, I did say "Yes, please!" to my friend Holly bringing pizza over for lunch today. That made for a great break in the "action," so to speak. Also, this morning I found a card and DVD in the front porch basket; seems my friend Sarah decided I needed to watch "The Benny Goodman" story for inspiration, bless her heart. Maybe I'll soon be inspired to take my dear clarinet out of the case, eh? (Though I think that won't happen until the weekend, if I'm going to be reality-based here.)

Otherwise, last night I tried to watch more of the Ken Burns documentary on the national parks, but had to stop when it began to focus on the slaughter of Native Americans and animals in the park and beyond. I usually have the constitution for such information, but not these days. I wanted to ooh and ahhh over pretty pictures of Mother Nature, not get my knickers in a knot over man's inhumanity to man and nature. I am definitely in a "Beyond Bambi" stage, people, and just have to accept it.

Hey, it's almost time for bed. Gotta go! Love from BB and the Bombshell

Just saw Sita and Brava off; they came by to clear out the medical supply depot in the garage, bless them, so I now have an indoor place to park my Vibe. Progress--thanks, gals!

Had a delightful dinner with Sita, Anne and Brava last night. Good food and conversation, capped off with cake and an outdoor fire. Perfection! For all my focus on rest and renewal, I did learn last night that I am not yet 100%, for at one point an ember flew out of the fire pit and landed on my pants. I just watched it sit there, noted that my leg was getting warm, but did nothing about it. Thankfully, Anne came to my rescue, and brushed it off before it was able to do any damage.

That was interesting, eh? My self-preservation instincts are still in the shop, apparently. Sheesh!

Yesterday, I took Shwea to the vet for her "senior" checkup. All who saw her reported she was in very good shape for a 12-year-old her size, which was good to hear. But, when I described some symptoms to the vet and she checked her from stem to stern, she thought that the Bombshell would benefit from some pain medicine, so I dutifully took some home. Started it yesterday, and am watching her ever so carefully for side effects. Also need to take her in three weeks from now, for lab work (literally and figuratively; sorry, couldn't resist) to ensure her kidneys are okay with the new medicine. While I don't like giving her drugs, I certainly don't like the idea of her being in pain. It helped when the vet said that dogs Shwea's size often start taking such meds when they're 8, so I feel a little better about it all.

Ah, this aging business!

Speaking of aging, yesterday I learned that Linda's car was in trouble deep. It needed tons of work, so instead of investing in all that work so I could sell the car to someone, I decided to sell it to Linda's mechanic. He's an honest guy who we've known for years, so I feel good about this solution to the "What to do with Linda's car?" issue. Must admit it was hard to take all of Linda's stuff out of the car; have watched Linda drive off and return home in that car for years, so it's "Linda" to me in a way. Plus, that car featured in a joke of mine, so that joke will have to be retired, too. Odd what comes to mind, isn't it?

Well, now I should close, as I have to get downtown to pick up some music supplies before I meet with the CPA this afternoon--my clarinet came home yesterday, and it's just beautiful. Can't wait to play it, but I certainly don't want to play it with over 30-year-old reeds. Gross!

But before I go, thought I should let you know that I have been helped ever so much by a book of daily meditations I've been reading since Linda passed. It's called "Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief," by Martha Whitmore Hickman. The quotations and readings for each day speak to me in ways that few things do now. One quote, from Goethe, sums up what's been happening this week better than I ever could: "It is the nature of grace always to fill spaces that have been empty."

The whirlwind continues

Yesterday was a busy one--started the day with two big condolence hugs from my neighbor and optometrist, who was walking by with her gal when I was getting the Vibe Shwea-ready. Had an appointment with a plumber in the Berkshires, but I didn't care--I'll take sweetness from another human being over timeliness any day of the week. Anyway, the plumber is almost always late.

Drove out to the cottage with the Bombshell to let the nice and just late enough (bless him) plumber in to shut it down for the season. This is about a month earlier than usual, but I would rather address this now while I have the time and before we have our first big frost and I get my pipe-freeze anxiety on in earnest. Besides, I can always go out there after the water's shut off, as long as I don't find myself with an overwhelming desire for a hot shower. (Shwea doesn't care as long as the fridge is working.)

Shwea had a good snooze on the way out, but couldn't get comfy because I kept walking around the wee house, finding medical-related things that needed to be added to the medical supply depot in the garage. Drove home with a bit more inventory and a nervous dog (she was afraid the I.V. pole was going to bonk her on the noggin', which it didn't). Stopped at Outlook Farms on the way in for some good dog biscuits for my pup (nothing like a good distraction, say I) and ended up buying a bag of cider donuts for myself (ditto).

Made lunch for Shwea then myself, then headed out to meet the Phantom (Karen) for a ride in her two-person canoe. We practically had the lake at the DAR to ourselves, with some chatty ducks and a golden retriever who kept darting in and out of the woods our primary company. Later some fishermen appeared in a small row boat, but that was about it. We talked as we paddled, and it was a sweet way to spend some time in this week largely devoted to rest and renewal (or a reasonable facsimile).

Returned home to meet with Sita, who had another likely candidate for the hydraulic loo (the first home wasn't a fit, alas) and who also offered a hug, cherry tomatoes from their garden and other delightful food bits--even baklava from St. Louis! Her dog Brava then gave me a quick sloppy stealth kiss (her specialty) and off they went.

Dinner was back at Sky and Karen's house, and it was so good to see them without needing to bother Sky for an explanation of a medical issue. We just talked and ate and listened to their cats howl. Linda was a major topic of conversation, and that was just fine with me. She, like the "angles," will be hovering 'round for a long, long time, and that's a tremendous comfort.

Lest I forget, they also sent me home with a lovely tin of Sky's chocolate chip cookies. Comfort, indeed.

Still, there's a lot of "stuff" I need to deal with. Today I finally found the phone number for Linda's private disability insurer, and got them working on the paperwork for closing that account down. Also spoke to Linda's mechanic, who is giving her car a once-over so I can sell it in good conscience. Thing is, he reported he's compiling a long list of things for us to discuss tomorrow, so I'm beginning to worry that I might be better off donating it to that car charity they're always promoting on Car Talk. Yikes!

But I also got the paperwork together for Linda's private life insurance and mailed that off, and the Post Office graciously accepted a mailer with a big box of sharps in it, too. (Still have more to get rid of, but that was a good start.) And I'm meeting with a CPA on Friday to help me address my mounting math/tax anxiety.

So, I'm getting things done; there's more to do, but nothing that's going to turn me into a very large, cookie-filled pumpkin.

Now I'm getting ready to take the Bombshell for her nightly stroll, and am surprised at how dark it is already. When fall falls, it doesn't mess around, eh?

One week till work!

Enjoyed Jennifer's show at PACE on Saturday night, but how could I not? Each comic had a unique spin on existence, and but for a little Crocs-bashing, I enjoyed them all tremendously.

Seriously, I don't understand the fuss about Crocs. Flip-flops are far less protective and supportive, but few people get their knickers publicly in a knot over them. True, I've come to be a Crocs fan late in their run (fashion trends and Ann Podolske rarely coincide--actually, they never coincide), but found them perfect for all of those times during my caregiver days that I had to throw on shoes fast, not to mention tidy up after things that one wouldn't want to get on one's "regular" shoes. Now that I'm mostly keeping company with a big, clumsy dog, I find they continue to make sense--slobber and stomp away, Shwea, I'm wearing protective shoes I can wash!

Oh dear. I'm spending my time defending my choices in footwear. This can't be good.....

Anyway, back to actual events. Yesterday, I went to church--late, as has unfortunately become my custom--and enjoyed the company of my church peeps immensely. Hugs and sweetness all around--what's not to love? Then headed home to tend the Bombshell, eat lunch and nap, which has also become a custom (and one I'll have to wean out of this week, as work beckons next Monday).

Last night, I went to the local multiplex and finally saw "Julie & Julia" (or is it the other way around?), which was a light bit of fun. Perhaps not as fun as I expected, but considering my innate sadness these days and how much I've already heard about the movie, it makes sense that I wasn't exactly transported. That said, Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci were a joy to watch, just for being their fabulous selves. Another benefit of this excursion to the movies was seeing a trailer for yet another Meryl Streep film, "It's Complicated." Looks like a winner to me, but then with the Goddess Meryl at the center, how could it not? Perhaps I will go to this movie with friends--but for now, I go to such events worrying that I could start to cry and not stop, and don't want to put my friends through this, especially at a movie that's ostensibly a comedy.

It hasn't happened yet, but I'm not taking any chances.

Today was a late-starting day, but I'm happy to not have to be anywhere or do anything but tend Shwea and rest while it lasts. Well, and write a few more thank-yous. And do some more laundry, which is a never-ending task.

With all this glamour and excitement at hand, I think I will be ready to get back to work when I actually have to next Monday. Seriously, I miss my work friends, and I look forward to being preoccupied with things that don't matter, really. I appreciate the perspective the last 17 months has brought to bear on my world-view, don't get me wrong, but I am looking forward to thinking about things that bear little resemblance to what preoccupies me now.

Besides, I have to pay for my belated 50th birthday present to myself somehow. Yes, I followed Linda's footsteps in buying a car to denote my half century mark, though certainly not as cool a car as she purchased (a Mazda Miata). I toyed with the idea of a Mini Cooper S, but thanks to Linda's urging, I test drove and bought a Ford Fusion Hybrid. It's a hoot (for me) to drive, which may be explained by my current wheels: A Pontiac Vibe. And while my Fusion is a hybrid, it doesn't look like a Pious--I mean Prius--which I never quite liked the looks of, truly. Lastly, it's luxurious, at least compared to a Vibe, as it has leather seats, a navigation system, and more.

Well, I've gone from nattering on about shoes to a car, so I think I should stop for the sake of just about everyone. Besides, it's past time to feed Shwea, who has been ever-so-patiently waiting for me to finish this post. All good, A

What's up, Padlocked?*

Stayed up late last night to watch "Quantum of Solace" (I think that was the title), one of the latest James Bond films. I am powerless over films featuring Judi Dench, even in a small role, and I think Daniel Craig has that brooding business down pat. It was a satisfying mix of mayhem and macho, and I was glad for the respite from reality, or whatever is transpiring around here.

Things aren't quite as bleak as that last sentence suggests, really. Am getting ever so more accomplished as a sleeper (who knew that could ever be a challenge for yours truly?). Napping during the day and sleeping for great chunks of time with very brief interruptions during the night has become commonplace; so much better than the "High Alert" tossing and turning that characterized my first week or so after Linda's passing. That nagging feeling that I'm shirking my caregiver duties is almost gone, too, though of course I still need to keep on top of Shwea's very important feeding and walking schedule.

Am grateful, too, that I am taking care of the "must do" business that is before me. I had a very productive two-hour meeting with a member of my attorney's staff on Thursday to get started on wrapping up Linda's estate and finances; she was able to get the paperwork rolling for all of Linda's insurance and investment holdings in that relatively short span of time (it likely would have taken me days to do the same). She will also help me complete said paperwork, and recommended an accountant to help me figure out how best to proceed with the proceeds. Am pretty sure Linda would be glad I'm getting professional help with all of this; she knew all too well how math and I get along (which is about as well as she got along with the English language).

Also am working on getting the medical supply depot in the garage thinned out--already found a home for the hydraulic loo, I'm very happy to report. (Yes, I'm happy about finding a good home for a commode, people.) A member of my caregivers' group thought it might be just the thing for his missus, and he came by to pick it up yesterday. Here's hoping! As for the rest of my collection, a dear friend has offered to post it on Freecycle, once I get the inventory compiled. Also plan to clean out the fridge in the garage this weekend, so I can get started on finding that a new home as well. (Now that I'm not in the juicing "business" anymore, a second fridge doesn't make any sense.) I am also contemplating putting the mother of all juicers in our kitchen on Craigslist sometime soon, for that sucker takes up valuable real estate on our very small kitchen counter. Plus, it weighs on me a little to contemplate all the time and energy I (and our friends who learned to juice for Linda's sake) devoted to that contraption.

Otherwise, I am not doing anything with all of Linda's clothes and other effects in the house for now, except washing what has been hanging on hooks and laying about for these many months. When it seems like a good time to move on all of these things I will, but for now, it seems fine to let them be.

In the midst of all of this resting and wrapping up, I have been reading the wonderful cards and letters that have been landing in the mailbox each day. The hardest part of this duty has been not being able to show Linda the sweet and hilarious things that her friends and coworkers have written about her; still, I have to believe that she knows, somehow.

I've also begun getting out a bit; Tuesday night I went to my usual 12-step meeting, and last night I had dinner at a friend's house, that featured good conversation and two marvelous pooches. Tonight, I'm heading to my friend Jennifer's comedy show, Girls! Girls! Girls! (8 p.m. at PACE, if you're interested), and looking forward to being a member of the audience, soaking in the hilarity that is certain to ensue.

Well, I need to tackle my chores for the day, including feeding the Bombshell, so close I should. Hope you're all enjoying your weekend! With love, Ann and the Blond Foodhound

* If you spellcheck Podolske, this is what is suggested.

Making progress...

I am feeling pretty good about the fact that I (1) had a nap yesterday and (2) was still able to sleep (almost) through the night. After over 10 days of waking up feeling mostly like something Shwea deposits in the backyard, I felt almost/nearly/sort of rested this morning. (Yes, my expectations for myself are what one could call modest--world dominion can wait.)

Anyway, today I am preparing for tomorrow's meeting with someone at my attorney's office, to get the ball rolling on settling Linda's estate. She cautioned me that such things can take a year, which is fine with me--I have promised myself to not make any major decisions for at least 12 months, so we're all copacetic. Am also beginning to write out "Thank yous" for flowers and donations and what-all. This could take a while, for people have been very, very generous where my gal is concerned.

Did figure out when I think I'll be up for returning to work--Monday, Sept. 28. As long as the short-term disability (STD) application goes through. Though I'd probably take the time even if it weren't paid for, as Big Company is overwhelming on a good day, and I am not in the "good day" frame of mind quite yet.

Speaking of STD, I was taken aback by the diagnosis my dear doctor has given yours truly's predicament for the benefit of the insurance company: "Acute situational depression/grief." I guess "recent widow" just isn't descriptive enough, eh?

Yesterday, I decided to face facts and had the lawn service guys weed the entire yard. Contemplating the bumper weed crop in our yard made me tired, so I just said "Off with their heads!" Linda was the avid gardener in the family, which I attribute to her being a city girl for much of her life. Me, I grew up in an agricultural mecca, so perhaps I think it's all too much like the labor of my ancestors. Whatever, I am out of the farming business for the foreseeable, with one possible exception (see below), and am quite relieved about it.

Today, our friend and neighbor Dee is coming by to help me figure out what to do with the plants we were given in the past two weeks. Plant them? Keep them watered until they yell "Uncle!"? I know so little about such things, I thought I should call in an expert, and he is it. Well, I feel another nap coming on (you may too, pardon me), so close I should. All good, Ann

Closing up my caregiver shop

I've been away from this site for a while, largely because I was spending what spare time I had for Internet nonsense posting on CaringBridge. If you're not familiar with the site, consider yourself fortunate--it's a site dedicated to people challenged with serious illness. It's a one-stop shop for people who want to keep concerned friends and family updated on their (or a family member's) treatment's progress (or lack thereof). It was a goddess-send, for it allowed me to keep everybody in the proverbial loop re my gal Linda, without having to make countless phone calls or e-mails, retelling the same tale over and over again.

Well, as you may already know, Linda was gathered to God (my favorite way of putting this) on Friday, Sept. 4. She left in peace, which was a miracle, considering how long she resisted the reality of her situation. From her diagnosis in April of 2008 to about a week before her death, she was planning on getting well. But after a frightening fall, she finally accepted her prognosis, and then devoted her remaining time and energy to preparing for what's next. She succeeded brilliantly, from what I could see, and left this earth as ready as anyone could be, leaving love and forgiveness in her wake.

What a gift Linda was, contrary underwear and all.

So now, I'm working on recovering from my months as a caregiver and trying to wrap up Linda's affairs as best I can. I won't be back at work for a couple more weeks, and that's just fine by me (and them, too, most likely). My life is changing at a rapid rate, and I have no idea what my "new normal" will be, and probably won't for a good while.

But I will try to record what develops here, as best I am able. We shall see, eh?

Cosmic Setup #2,457

A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to NPR and heard a beautiful clarinet solo that reminded me of a piece by Mozart I played 3 million years ago (well, in the mid-70s) at a state musical contest of sorts. When I played the solo at state, I was accompanied on piano by the very prim and proper organist at my mother's church, Mary Jane Malmstadt, who I think told me she went to high school with Liberace. My first brush with fame (sort of)! And we won a gold medal, so it was a success on all fronts.

Why I entered that bit of trivia, I cannot say (but the thought of sedate Mary Jane in class with "flamboyant" Liberace always amused me). Let's sum up by stating that the solo on NPR started a whole lot of wheels turning in my head, and before I knew it, I was looking at my old clarinet. It was not pretty. It has a patched-up crack, the metal is green with age, the keys are all tarnished, and the pads are shot. But, in need of a good distraction, I decided to pursue someone who could decide whether it was fit to recondition, or whether I should just find a nice kazoo and hang my clarinet up for good.

Well, after looking at a number of sites that seemed geared to concert soloists (not someone thinking about reliving her glory days as a band geek), I found a site that seemed more my speed--and it was on Long Island (homeland of my Linda), which recommended it, too.

I e-mailed the repair guy, he called me back, we discussed the clarinet and costs and all sounded good, so over the weekend I put my old constant companion in the hands of the UPS. Today, the repair guy called me, and while he needs to inspect the crack a little more thoroughly before he can say for certain, he thinks the clarinet can be made to play well again. Wooeee!

And then he proceeded to offer me the complete recondition of my clarinet in exchange for the mouthpiece. While I know my clarinet is just okay, I also knew the mouthpiece on my horn was quite good--but I didn't know it was that good. And, as the repair guy explained to me, since the man who made the mouthpiece is no longer among the living, his work is also quite coveted by clarinet players who know about such things. Well, to wrap up (or die trying), the repair guy is also a clarinetist, and he has been looking for just this mouthpiece for a long, long time. So, he's going to recondition my clarinet for my mouthpiece--and he'll throw in a good-quality mouthpiece (worth about $150) so I can still make music on the dear thing.

Isn't that something? Now, if you're like Linda, you're wondering if I should have kept the mouthpiece and put it on Concert Clarinetist eBay or something. Well, that sounds like too much trouble to me--and besides, I did a little research on it, and if it was in perfect condition and never used, the mouthpiece would be worth $575. Since I played on it through high school and a little while after, I'm guessing it would be worth, say, about what it would cost to repair my clarinet.

So, I'm happy, the repair guy is happy, and I'll be torturing Shwea and Linda with clarinet sounds by the fall. Happy day!!!!!!!!!

Now 50 is young, eh?

One of the few gratifying bits of fallout from the untimely demise of Michael Jackson is that many say he died far too young. And as he is just a tad older than yours truly, that makes me feel better about things.

Yes, I know: "Way down deep you're very superficial, Ann Podolske" (yes, I appropriated that line from "Julia"--it's a keeper, isn't it?)

As for my feelings about Michael Jackson? Such a waste. A very talented man, certainly, but an unbridled mess as well. Too much money and not enough therapy was his tragedy. While his family likely set the dysfunctional stage for this poor soul, someone somewhere along the line should have said, "Listen, Michael. You don't need your own theme park, you don't need a hyperbolic (was that it?) chamber, and you sure as hell don't need a chimp as a best friend forever. You need therapy, honey--lots and lots of therapy. Don't spend another dime on anything else until you've been on the couch for a decade--and send those little boys home!"

But no, no one had this talk with him. Or maybe they did, and he chose to buy tons of crap and plastic surgery and keep his inner little boy stoked instead of working on himself. Maybe that was the best he could do.

How sad is that?

As for the other cultural icon who left the planet this week, I must admit I was not a Farrah Fawcett (SP?) fan. I liked the Kate Jackson angel best, as was required by lesbian law (and the show was on even before I knew I was a lesbian--how clueless could a gal be?). Of course, I saw her poster numerous times (I can almost see it hanging up in the Blakes' basement rec room, circa 1976), and thought she was cute, but that's about it. She was a big thing, and then she wasn't. At least she doesn't have the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that Michael Jackson has, and that counts for something, doesn't it?

Well, that's enough muttering for one day--maybe for one week, eh? Happy trails to you all, A

The end of an era.....

I'm plunk in the middle of my last week as a 40-something, and I think "disbelief" sums things up nicely. How in the hell did I get to be (almost) 50? I mean, I did everything I could to make sure this wouldn't happen in my teens and 20s (smoked, drank to excess, drove while drinking to excess, etc.).

Apparently am supposed to be here, if one believes such things.


Or perhaps Whomever Is in Charge got distracted at key points of my journey, and didn't hit the "EJECT" button when the opportunity--or let's be real, here--opportunities arose. True, I did get hit by a car in my mid-40s (stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact), but that just hurt--and it was damn embarrassing. How does one get herself hit by a car stone-cold sober, when one didn't get hit by a car while staggering around on streets and in traffic, umpteen sheets to the wind in countries where the traffic goes the "wrong" way?

Life is perplexingly unfair, this I know. My current circumstance perhaps most perplexing of all. If I had to describe myself, I'd say I am a caregiver who finds time to work and occasionally have some fun, but mostly I do my gal Linda's bidding. Not terribly successfully, alas. This has been going on for a while now, and while I know that all things come to an end, that does not really offer any comfort. I don't want "all things" to end, even if it means I have to schlep, juice, clean, call, coordinate, drive and what-have-you for my gal until I'm well into my 50s and beyond, exhausting as that premise may be.

A friend on Facebook tells me that her 50s were better than her 40s. This, I hope, is a masterpiece of understatement for yours truly, but only time will tell. And Time, she's a veritable Sphinx right now.

Am looking forward to my birthday, at least. I am having an official Day Off on my day, and will sleep in for the first time in months (February, I think). This constitutes a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Perhaps the key to having one's 50s be better than one's 40s is reduced expectations, eh? Just a thought....

Remiss, I've been remiss.....

Sorry, but this care giving business is a time hog of enormous proportions. Thanks to a blood transfusion, Linda is stronger than she's been in a while, but still I spend a lot of time making juices, meals, appointments and just being here to take notes during her sessions with doctors, nurses, physical therapists and so on.

Barely have time to see my therapist, and that's just wrong!

People occasionally ask when my next comedy show is, and right now, it's never. That's not due to any sacrifice on my part; I haven't been asked, and I sure as [fill-in-the-blank] haven't had time to pursue any new gigs. The Comedy, she can wait.

Patiently, one hopes.

Watched a few episodes of the "Big Gay Comedy Show!" (I think that's the name) last night, and laughed quite a bit. Some of the skits were hilarious, but some were just mean, and I just don't understand the role of mean in comedy. I think mockery needs to be reserved for oneself and one's demographic--making fun of anyone else, especially someone older, fatter, less attractive, and so forth, isn't comedy. Bullying, maybe, supreme snarkiness, but not comedy.

But since mockery of others figured large in about half of the skits, I'm guessing mocking = comedy for at least half of the planet. Maybe more.

But Julie Goldman, who I had the pleasure of performing with almost two years ago (I think) in Boston, was fabulous in every skit. Born to do sketch comedy, that one.

Now, I think it's nap time. Weekends have their perks!

The Patch-a-thon, phase VI

Yesterday, I tried out a new dentist, for my dear ol' reliable dentist is en route to retirement, and has foisted me off on the sweet young "partners" he's brought on board for that purpose.

Not sure that's working for me.

Anyway, I also wanted a dentist who wasn't into mercury fillings, for I've been hearing about how bad they are for one for a while now, but will spare you the details. (This from a gal who watched mercury skitter across her 6th-grade classroom floor with unfettered glee, thanks to a clumsy classmate and a thermometer, but I digress.)

So, I went to a "biological" dentist up in Greenfield. Entered a nice waiting room that was blaring The River (heard Kelsey Flynn as I walked into the office, which I took as a good sign). Picture of the dentist and his dog on the wall (another good sign). There were many delays seeing said dentist (not so good sign), but the staff said this was very unusual, but they had a lot of emergencies. In fact, they said that it felt like a full moon day, for they get a lot more emergency patients on full moon days than any other. (I thought ERs just had that issue, but aparently not.)

But I got to watch a lot of birds and a number of enterprising squirrels at a feeder while I waited, so I was okay. They even gave me a birdwatcher's guide to while away the time. Nice.

Then the dentist came along, and he had a soul patch. That is not something one expects in a dentist, but there it was. Odd. He also referred to Linda as my "friend," even though I referred to her as my partner and my spouse. Slightly irritating. (Not so good sign.)

But he thinks I may have a cavity under a filling and he can fix that, and he had some interesting ideas re Linda's treatment, so I'll be back.

The jury's still out, but let's give them a chance, shall we? And I always like a nice drive up to Greenfield. Almost lived there, but that's a story for another day. Now I must go juice....

If one must fall off the wagon.....

No, I didn't fall off that wagon, but I did fall off the highly restricted food plan I've been on thanks to Linda's latest treatment. It is a vegetarian diet with little variety--and no berries! (Very, very hard to walk by strawberries, which have begun showing up in the store.)

Anyway, the only bread is a salt-free rye bread, which has a sourdough base. It's nutritious. It's no-nonsense. It's something I imagine a Russian army or two would have marched 1,000 miles on. It's just not tasty.

So today, after taking care of three errands in one fell swoop (mailing our taxes, depositing our checks and making copies for Linda), I thought I could use a treat. Thought about the Cup and Top in downtown Florence (where I ran all errands in record time), but the line was ridiculous. So I hopped in the car and drove up to Bread Euphoria, where I not only scored a delicious cinnamon bun, I was hugged by a baker (friend Sarah, to be more specific) and met the partner of another gal named Sarah who I have known casually for about as long as I have lived up here.

Delightful!

Didn't tell Linda about the treat, for I don't think it's fair. Sarah (the baker) said my secret is safe with her, so I'm counting on your discretion (she hasn't read this blog in eons).

Anyway, the only other news is that our pipes sprang another leak. (The first being while we were in Mexico. Lovely, that.) Our regular plumber didn't have an emergency number, so I ended up calling Mr. Rooter.

That worked, actually! (Sure it cost a lot more than our regular plumber, but now I don't have to listen to the drip, drip, drip in the bucket. Worth a lot, that.)

How was last night's show?

It wasn't. Let's just say I am paying the price for staying up past my bedtime--and I didn't even perform. Why? Because I asked not to. Wonder why I would do such an anti-"The Show Must Go On" kind of thing? I direct you to my MySpace page for the details (link to your right).

But the night had its compensations. I got the full 15-minute tour of Jennifer and Scott's home before the show, along with running commentary as to the dubious parentage of the previous owners. Also held hands with Scott and Jennifer for a while, which was odd yet sweet. Never just sat holding hands with friends before for no apparent reason (my hands were held a' plenty when Linda was in surgery, believe me). Just seemed the thing to do.

And yes, this is likely as close to being a "Cougar" as I'll ever be. As if. Wonder if there's a lesbian equivalent? Nothing remotely amusing is coming to me. I'll work on it....

Anyway, today we had a whole-house water filtration system installed, as well as a reverse-osmosis spigot put into the kitchen. All of this wonderful water will be good for our Linda, and for me, actually (no more chlorine drying out my already Saharan skin, for one thing).

Now I must return to my tax prep. Yes, this is getting ridiculous. Am hoping to put an end to it this weekend. Here's hoping!

And here's hoping you're having a much more exciting weekend than I. Though on days such as these, when I'm just dragging my tired carcass around, I'm rather grateful for the absolute lack of excitement on today's menu.

Tomorrow? That'll be another story.

Catching up

Had a great show Thursday night at the Log Cabin. It was a fundraiser for a home for aged horses (what's not to like?) put together by a women's business owners organization. Yes, indeed, their were lesbians galore in career separates ((c) by Jennifer Myszkowski), as well as some dear friends (most from church), also of the lavender persuasion. Those women (and a smattering of men) were there to laugh, bless their hearts, and laugh they did. What fun!

Today, I had the flashback-inducing experience of buying fabric. I haven't set foot in a fabric store since I bought material in the early 1970s for bib overalls--our home ec project that year. I think I bought a red, white and blue striped cotton-poly mix. My goddess, those pants were hideous, but it was the '70s, ya know? Hideous was "in."

Yes, indeed, I was in home ec--they didn't let girls take shop back in those benighted times, and honestly, I probably would have been a train wreck at that, too. (I jammed all the sewing machines in our classroom, to give you an idea of my sewing prowess.)

Anyway, I told the clerk about how long it's been since I've bought fabric, and she found that hilarious. She was very helpful and smiling the whole time she helped me find the material I needed (100% white cotton flannel) and so forth. Her coworker found my predicament funny, too. So nice to bring joy along on what could have been a tedious errand, no?

Why am I buying 100% white cotton flannel? It is a key player in the clay packs that Linda needs for pain management. She has been having pain in her abdomen, and slapping on one of these clay-laden packs makes her feel better. That's as good a reason as any, no?

Now I must stop procrastinating and get my taxes together. Problem is, I first need to update my checking account with the last six months (yes, of 2008) of bank statements.

Yes, I knew I was going to pay for letting that slide, and here it is, time to pay! Hope you're having more fun than I (wouldn't be difficult).

Isn't it romantic?

Have been reading the local San Diego paper while in Mexico, and came across this amusing song title under the heading, Top 5 Digital Songs: "My Life Would Suck Without You," by Kelly Clarkson.

And they say romance is dead.

What similarly underwhelming statements of appreciation could I concoct for my dear sweetie of 16 years? Reviewing recent events, the following come to mind:

"I Wouldn't Be 'Vacationing' in a Questionable Part of Mexico Without You"
Or: "My Knowledge of Enemas Would Be Nada Without You"

Need to noodle on this a bit more, perhaps.

On other fronts, I was also quite taken by another item in the paper featuring Bristol Pallin, Sarah Pallin's teenage daughter who also happens to be an unwed mother. While she asserts that teenagers should avoid having sex, she also admits that abstinence "is not realistic at all."

Thanks for clearing that up, Bristol!

Brattleboro and comedy on Feb. 27

I'm opening for Joe Wong two days after I return from Mexico at the Hooker-Durham Theatre and Gallery space in Brattleboro, VT. Learn more about the oh-so-reasonably priced show on Friday, Feb.27, by clicking here.

Not to worry, I will not have any "enema" material in my set. My experience "assisting" this procedure has been amusing, but not in a way I can easily convey. Besides, people are squeamish seeing the term in print; I can only imagine their reaction to hearing it on stage. Methinks I'd hear the crickets singing....

All I know is I am looking forward to this, for I have enjoyed amusing the folks at the clinic, but I want some stage time, and soon.

Look what I found!

In case this isn't legible, the website can be found here.

That's not all, people! I have a show in Brattleboro just when I get back (on Friday, Feb. 27), and will endeavor to find something similar for that (Joe Wong is the headliner; this much I know).

South of the border....

Am keeping myself amused while in not-so-sunny Mexico (a very large rain storm is upon us) by roaming the streets of the Internet. Am enjoying the fact that a lot of the pages I'm used to viewing (Google, for one major example) are in Spanish. A nice change, that, though it took me a while to figure out which word/phrase meant "sign in" for this blog (Acceder, I think).

Checked our home voicemail yesterday, and received a very amusing message from my Aunt Libby, a grand gal who is the last living member of my mother's generation of family. As such, she is well versed with the saga of the Republican branch discussed below, and learned from my sister about the comic coincedence at the Comedy Studio the other night. (My performing on the same stage as the daughter of my cousin, the GOP congressman, to be specific.)

"That's a kick," she said. "I didn't know anybody in that family had any humor."

Ouch. That's about as direct as my people get--and Libby has been known to vote Republican, so that's not her politics talking.

May explain why our families "lost touch" years ago, eh?

Show tonight!

Yes, tonight around 8:00 I have a 15-minute set at Alexander's Restaurant in Feeding Hills (Agawam?), MA. More info on my MySpace page (link to the right).

OVERDONE ALERT: As of yesterday, I have a Facebook page, too, for apparently I need to have more websites than Heinz has pickles....

The good news is that Facebook is not as youth-oriented as I had feared, especially as during registration it asked a lot of questions about where and went I went to school (including high school, as if that matters a whit). But once I put my site together, a veritable deluge of face cream ads appeared, and realized Facebook isn't for kids anymore.

On other fronts, an amusing thing happened at the Comedy Studio Thursday night. I had a good set, which of course, was amusing in its own way, but that's not the "thing." Another comic on the docket that night was a young woman, also from Wisconsin, who also made a good show. Since much commentary was made about the large Midwestern contingent that night, we chatted afterwards. I remembered her first name, but not her last, until I got home that night, and looked at the night's lineup. Funny, her last name was the same as that of my cousin the Republican congressman, who I discussed here (he keeps me from being the black sheep of the family, bless his heart). Turns out she is the daughter of that congressman, and while I e-mailed her to share my discovery, she hasn't e-mailed back.

Am guessing she hasn't responded because my branch of the family was not exactly looked upon favorably by her branch--while the congressman is a bit of an embarrassment to my liberal democratic family, our liberal, democratic ways likely made the congressman and his clan flinch.

She might not have even known about our family. Hope I didn't open a can o' familial worms. Or maybe I do--secrets are rarely a good idea.

Or maybe she just doesn't want to contemplate having a big, old dykesauras as a relative. One can see where that could be problematic, eh?

Oh well, it is amusing--and a little weird--to contemplate. It also suggests there may be some sort of standup comedy gene.

Oddness!

Comedy calendar update....

Sorry to send you packing, but I added as much information as I could gather on upcoming shows and plunked it on my MySpace page. (See links at right.)

If you're interested, that is. No pressure. This is Ann Podolske we're talking about, after all....

Ode to my bro'

Couldn't find a card that had just the right message for my brother's pending (1/30) birthday, so came up with this ditty:

Happy birthday to you

Brother's now sixty-two

There's still hope for you, Lew

But for what, haven't a clue

Not to worry, we are of the teasing = love school of affection. Linda approved, too, so I'm golden. Just hoping this and a bag full of mystery novels for his upcoming beach vacation with sister-in-law Donna will do the trick.

On other fronts, I learned that the Alexander's show is open to the public. The show is Saturday (1/31) night at 9 at Alexander’s Restaurant, 60 N. Westfield St, Feeding Hills, MA 01030-1606. Phone: 413-786- 1127 for more information from the venue.

Comedy coming up!

I am going to be at The Comedy Studio this Thursday night, which is great, for my friend Jennifer has been the Studio's Comic In Residence (CIR + BFD, truly) this entire month, and I was hoping to see her at least once during her run.

Saturday night, I'm doing a short set at Alexander's Restaurant in Agawam (Feeding Hills, to be specific). Am not sure of the particulars of this show--is it a private party or is anyone welcome--but when I do find out, I'll let you know.

Alas, it's time to feed the dog, so close I must. More to come!

More comedy on the docket

Hail and hello! It appears I've taken a long winter's nap, and am just getting up.

If only.

The good news is I have two shows coming up, but need more details before I can post anything. One is on Jan. 31 and is in Agawam (I think); the other is in March sometime and will be at the Log Cabin in Holyoke. That show is a all-woman comedy fundraiser, which bodes well.

Am also working on our friend Rick J of Comedy Studio fame for some spots, but he's playing hard to get. Well, when the fates smile upon me, I shall return. If they don't, I will survive (and yes, I'm hearing a disco anthem in my noggin' as I type this).

Otherwise, life is going along. Linda is feeling a little better after Tuesday's chemo, we will soon be bidding Pres. Bush a grateful farewell, I have today and tomorrow off, and it's not snowing. In fact, the driveway and walk are shoveled (when I have the time I do try to avoid using the snowthrow--one of my "green" attempts that sound good in theory, but my back is very unhappy with me for putting it into practice).

Am striving to be as optimistic as possible about our prospects in the coming year, both personally and politically. It's a challenge, but I have to believe hope can pay dividends. That said, I do have one big quibble about the political side of that quest. I think that Sen. Obama talks a good game about equality and justice, but if he believed it, why would he have that "gays are perverts" pastor on the docket for tomorrow? And why did he have that "ex-gay" pastor on the campaign trail in the South?

Why oh why, Obama?

Perhaps this is why I can't seem to put my "Hillary '08" hat away?

Oh well, we'll give the pup a chance (I say this, for he is younger than I am--what a terrible milestone! I am now at the age where I am older than the president!!!).