Friday, October 17, 2003

"Hold on to yourself, for this is gonna hurt like hell ..."

Friday Five

1. Name five things in your refrigerator. milk, teeth-whitening gel, apples, leftover baked beans, and a huge chunk o' cheddar

2. Name five things in your freezer. popcorn shrimp, black bananas, bread, brats, chicken

3. Name five things under your kitchen sink. new sponge, Electrosol 2in1 Tabs, garbage can, Clorox Disenfecting Wipes, Ajax Dishwashing Liquid

4. Name five things around your computer. Right this moment: TV remote, my purse, calendar, a pen, a phone book

5. Name five things in your medicine cabinet. Nyquil, Excedrin Migraine, Benadryl, thermometer, old prescriptions


Well, that silly Friday Five suited me just fine. No brain work. This week has been about as crappy as a week should have the nerve to be. No details today though, because I'm drained. Truly. I promise I'll record the details for posterity's sake a few days from now.


Jimmy is flying in this afternoon for a 24-hour-stay, due to some of this week's stress. We have a funeral to attend tomorrow. I can't even express in words how sick it makes me feel to order flowers for the funeral service of a 20-year-old young woman. Senseless is what it is. I think we can all agree that the sudden death of young person can put all the trivial problems in our lives in fast and proper perspective.

As much as I worry and cry and want things to be different in my Emilie's life ... she's alive. She's here in this world and I can talk to her and see her anytime I feel like it. No matter how much I miss having Adam upstairs every day, he's still a phone call away. I can still tell both my kids how much I love them.

Melissa's family can't.

My husband and I are both feeling quite shell-shocked ... the daughter of his friend and co-worker, and a high-school classmate of Emilie's ... this one hits very close to home. As close to home as I hope it ever gets.


Thought For Today:
"Death is always on the way, but the fact that you don't know when it will arrive seems to take away from the finiteness of life. It's that terrible precision that we hate so much. But because we don't know, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless." (Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky)

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