I'm in a mood...

Not necessarily the best of moods. I could make myself happier with some caffeine, or a nap. Not both -- I'd confuse my poor body if I tried to mix those. I'm in a mood because I made a webpage yesterday...

I got hooked up with a friend's mother in law to do their website. I'm donating my time and services to do it. That's not what's got me down. I'm so glad to do it, to take the time and have the ability.

What's got me down is the circumstances that have transpired in life to make this webpage have to be.

It's for a memorial run for a kid who got killed by a drunk driver as he crossed his street in 1995. He was 14, and he was my good friend's brother in law. So the run takes place every July 4th weekend in the Niagara NY area. I'm glad to build them an ass kicking site. I want it to be lovely, beautiful, wonderful.

I did some looking around online for info on the kid, and found a webpage called Donor Moms. It's out of date, but his mom's entered on there his particulars. And seeing all these pictures in a row of kid after kid after kid, mostly teenagers, dead -- and little paragraphs by their moms saying how much they will be loved and missed, that kicked me in the ass so hard this morning.

I mean, what would I do if I lost one of my kids? There's no question in my mind that their organs would be donated. In a New York Minute they'd be, for damn certain. I'm all for that.

Philosophically.

The thing that has me in a mess right now is the concept of losing them. The actual loss of a child. There is no doubt I'd do the right thing and let a living legacy go forward from one of my kids... but I couldn't imagine not having them in my life at all. Or having to bury them.

Meh!

So I'm all schmoopy and verklempt. Email me a joke. Make me laugh.

Speaking of making me laugh, Prof MF bought me the full version of CuSee-Me so I could fill in a missing person for a day when a kid is not in a class session (she still wants to do this... WHY DON'T PEOPLE TAKE ME SERIOUSLY WHEN I TELL THEM NOT TO DO SOMETHING!!!!! AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH! sorry. Venting). and I set up a room and no one is coming in and getting naked.

I'm sort of disappointed. I could have used a good laugh. People keep coming in and just ... gawking. Oh well.

Anyway. I'm going to do some housework. MF is calling me after 5pm when she's done with some meeting. Please pray for me that I can convince her to not do this live online crap. It ain't gonna work.

Walk On, Walk On...

And if the darkness is to keep us apart
And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off
And if your glass heart should crack
And for a second you turn back Oh no, be strong
Oh, Oh Walk on, Walk on
What you got, they can't steal it
No, they can't even feel it
Walk on, Walk on
Stay safe tonight
...
And I know it aches
How your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much
Walk on
Walk on

Thanks, Bono

He had in his possession every single U2 CD, single CD release, every EP, he has them all. They are in my living room. He wrote in his journal that their music gave him such joy. Throughout our friendship, they were integral, a cornerstone. We saw them together.

I'm keeping them.

---

The funeral went as well as funerals can go. His mom and sister asked us to join them at the funeral home for viewing. No one else was invited.

I can't even begin to talk about my thoughts and feelings upon seeing him there in a casket. It absolutely broke my heart to see his mom standing there running her fingers along his hairline above his ear the way mommies do to their little boys when they talk to them. I cried and cried and shit I'm starting to cry right now.

The tie I picked out looked great with the shirt that I brought. I thought they'd clash. But they looked fine. I was relieved. I forgot to bring the guitar to the graveside. I kicked myself for that -- I was so busy trying to get the program that I'd made printed that I braincramped and didn't realize until we'd gotten all the way to Beverly. By then, there was no time to turn around and go back. Mom and sis were so kind to ask us to come be with before hand. He didn't want a big funeral with public viewing. This would have broken so many hearts. It would have been devistating for people to see.

I'm glad people were spared that.

The funeral was well attended. I had hoped 200 people would come, but about 50 or 60 were there. People from the old gang at college, people from the college where we worked. People from the YMCA. It was a good mix of each of the three big circles that he swam in. The only circle not represented was the heroin circle. There were a few people I knew who would have been deserving to be there -- but his mom is really upset and didn't want to have them there. I can't say as I blame her in any way... I spoke to one of them and told her that they should go after.

I felt bad -- it isn't bad enough that they are shunned by their own family sometime, but a few of them were actually saved by his efforts. And they deserve to mourn too. So I told the woman I talked to that I'd go with her if she wanted.

I kind of feel like we're a bridge between two universes, Doug and I. It makes me so sad.

Meh. I weep. It's hard to really express what I feel.

The "program" came out very nice. The desktop publisher at Staples was super cool and helpful... and impressed with my work. I had to laugh. When he realized what it was he was kind of heartbroken and went out of his way to do it quickly so I could get home and ready.

After all that time I spent looking for the picture from when he lived with Gregg in Wilson hall, I gave up and used the one Naomi had scanned for me. Smitty called me last night and told me "I have this great picture of him playing his guitar in that room he lived in with Gregg..."

No. You're kidding me.

"Is he wearing a black t-shirt?"

"Yeah, I think it's a banana republic shirt."

He took the picture, not me or Gregg, but we each had a copy of it at some point... So Smitty has the original. I had no idea. So he's sending it to me. I know some people who want a copy of that... us chiefly among them.

I was on autopilot when I made the thing, and put the journal entry he had that I put here into the program. It didn't occur to me until AFTER Charles read it out loud that there were people there who didn't know about his drug use.

Oh my God, I'm such a friggin' IDIOT!

And it didn't occur to me that it might hurt his mom to hear, even though his openness with his own salvation and redemption was so clear. What the hell was I thinking! She didn't say anything when she read it. She was stunned I think.

And I'm kicking myself and kicking myself for not thinking. I thought the entry was so perfect and so explanatory. I talked to Gregg about it, and he expressed that while I may feel like I betrayed his mom by putting that in there, perhaps my big error may just do some good? Truth sets people free.

I hope? I pray.

---

We went to the beer works afterwards to do the thing he'd always told me he wanted -- he wanted everyone to get together for a drink, play some pool, and lift a glass in a toast. I lead the toast and looked out over the group, just about everyone who was at the cemetary was at the beer works, and I know how much laughter he gave each of those people. And it made me want to scream that he wasn't there and start freaking out, but I kept my composure.

The beer works opened the pool tables and took the panel off that makes you have to pay for pool, so we could play free. The waitress was hella awesome. The whole staff took us in and treated us well. It was a very nice gathering.

A lot of laughter, and a lot of fun. I talked forever with Bonnie, and we talked about how we always know the other one is "right there" all the time even though we don't get together enough and how that is a huge mistake. In the last 9 years or so, since Jessie was born really, the opportunities to be together thinned out. I had a baby, she was the urban professional rocking out to her boyfriend's bands... I was in bed at 9.

She's got a baby now, and her life is changed. And I have a feeling there will be more time together. I'm glad we didn't lose each other in this period of time -- the way we lost this week. And we have the time to regroup, renew, say the I Love Yous that we know deep in our hearts but don't say outloud often enough. It was good to have that.

All the buddies were there, Brian, Ben and Dan, Michelle, Dave, Tam, Gregg and Karry and Abbadabba, all the kids from the college, Jason, Justin, Ben, Doug, Julian (the piano player), Holly his old girlfriend from College came, it was so good to see her and her baby ... the circle was completed.

I had a blast, and I so know he would have been so happy. I left there with joy in my heart. I think in the end, we did it right by him, did just what he told me he wanted us to do. So I'm not the major cock-up I think I am.

I've talked to and gotten email from a lot of people who have just sat down and are re-evaluating what they've been doing with their lives, similar to what Bon and I talked of after the funeral. I have heard a lot of quietly stunned people say things like "I've let go of everything I once held as important and what's it going to get me if I die suddenly without reconnecting with friends, or apologizing, or having dinner with my mom..." so if anything, this time of reflection and personal repentance has come on some friends.

Me too. I picked up the phone and called some people to say out loud "I love you so much, and am so thankful you are a part of my life."

The best talk was with my buddy Gregg, whom I've felt very disconnected from over the past couple of years even though we spent time together and worked together. I feel like we were going through the motions. That once there was this firey happy friendship and now we're both just too tired to put in the effort. So it was a very awesome talk... and I'm glad to have had it.

So go, pick up the phone. I bet there are a couple people you have kind of lost contact with who you have always wanted to say "you rock my world and I love you" to... aren't there?

Perhaps it is your mom. An old boyfriend or girlfriend and you just have to let them know you're doing well and you valued what you had together and love them still but with that ongoing kind of love, not the I want to jump your bones kind of love. Perhaps it is God that you need to talk to right now, you feel disconnected from the divine, from the sacred. If that connectivity is clear and solid, all your relationships benefit. Whomever it is that you are called to reconnect with -- Go. Now. Do it.

Having no regrets is a beautiful thing.

And once you do that, Walk On.

---

Mom and Sis came to go through all his belongings yesterday afternoon. They left all the clothing and asked if we'd take them to the salvation army.

They left books & CDs and Doug said he was going to take them to second hand stores and whatever money he gets we'll donate to the YMCA on his behalf. His sister cried, because that would have made him so happy -- to know what he had left would go to the kids.

He has a palm pilot and a gameboy advance that he told his sister "I want Jessica to have these," a few days before he died and she had no idea why he'd want to tell her that then. Perhaps he had an idea that he wasn't going to be here long. So she's going to have us down to her place and make us dinner, and give Jessie the things he wanted to give her that she currently has in her posession.

Today is pouring rain. Doug said today that the sky is crying, just like Stevie Ray's song. Gregg said to me on the phone that the first thing that crossed his mind when we lost CAL was the Stevie Ray connection... the fact he took time to clean himself up, and that perhaps while we don't understand why either of them had to die so young, that God figured hey, I'm taking my boys back before they can mess themselves up again. Before they have to go through that again. I love them enough to remove them from their vessels, and leave a legacy behind which will bring a smile to some faces.

"The sky is cryin. Can't you see the tears roll down the street?"

The Parable of the Lost Sheep

Thank you Leann. Thank you Don. Thank you for bringing her back to him. Thank you.

"What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off."
- Matthew 18:12-13

"The Parable of the Lost sheep is about [how] the sheperd [sic] would leave his 99 other sheep on the hill side to look for the one missing one, and how happy he is to find it. God feels the same way about us. Well, I'm the lost sheep and God has found me.I feel like God would be unhappy with me for using and relapsing, stealing and lying etc, but Jesus says that God is happy to have found me. That's pretty cool."
-CAL, 10-3-01

He's Gone.

This is not the kind of thing I intended to write today. I wanted to rail about how much the ending of A.I. sucked. I wanted to tell you about our adventures Down East. But we got a phonecall last night that wasn't entirely unanticipated, but no fun to get just the same. And here I'm faced with reflecting on a life that shouldn't have been cut short.

A life belonging to a person whom I loved with all my heart.

I've mentioned him here before. I never talked too much about his situation specifically, because I held his confidence as sacred.

He was open about his attempts to kick heroin, even going as far as to just give everything up that he had, job, home, everything -- to go into a six month hardcore treatment program. And I never wanted it to be that just because he was open I'd be open. It wasn't my fight or my experience.

So in the background of my life, in the corner of my mind, a constant thought was held of of him. A constant prayer vigil. A constant knot in my stomach wondering when he was going to call me next... and now he isn't.

He died yesterday afternoon in Beverly Hospital. He was 34.

He got out of rehab on or about March 28. He was interviewing for jobs. I sent a letter of recommendation to Brandeis University for a job there in the IT department. He was working at a Mailboxes Etc... to make money while in the rehab and just couldn't wait until he could get back into academic computing. He met David Mamet while working at the MBE and had great discussions with him, after all, He was an English major in college and knew his theatre and movies cold.

He moved into a sober house right after rehab. He was supposed to come to my house yesterday afternoon and get that car we'd taken into holding for him while he went to take care of himself.

He had a cardiac arrest at some point while working on his car. They couldn't revive him.

That's all the detail I really know. We got a call from his sister about 8:30 p.m... I wish I knew more.

But I do know this:

He introduced me to my husband. He overslept my wedding. He used to bounce checks when he ordered bacon pizzas from Beverly Pizza parlors. He took my daughter to camp for free. He could beat anyone at "Six Degrees to Kevin Bacon..." we'd play it just driving down the street. I'd throw two actors at him and he'd connect them immediately, usually through "Tombstone," and we'd crack up laughing.

He had an infectious laugh. His whole body shook. He would cover his mouth and giggle like a girl just to crack me up. He was embarassed by his teeth, but that never stopped him from cutting loose and laughing hard. He was one of the most generous and helpful people I've ever known, but that always got him into situations where he was taken advantage of, either in work, friendship or in relationships. He always got handed the shitty end of the deal.

He loved to play stratomatic baseball, dungeons and dragons, guitar, and Magic, the gathering. While incredibly talented on the guitar, he couldn't sing to save his life, so I would sing for him while he played, and it would always make me happy... He introduced me to "Homicide: Life on the Streets," Ani DiFranco, Indigo Girls, MP3 storage and ripping. He was incredibly kind and loving to our children.

He is dead.

I am surrounded by what's left of his personal property. A car full of stuff, things in my basement... things that he never took out of the house when we told him to move out in 1999 which are in this room, my garage, my daughter's bedroom closet. A couple crates of comic books. A Rocky Horror Picture Show poster. His college ID which he left on the floor and I'm going to keep forever... I'd always said I would. All weekend my daughter wore a nice red knit sweater that he'd "outgrown" while living here. He gave it to me and I "outgrew" it too. It looks nice on Jessie. I had sewn the hole in the shoulder... and I thought of him every time I looked at her in it. How he would have laughed that she fit in it and he once did.

There are so many funny funny stories.

He was the most peculiar guy I've ever know. Liked the weirdest stuff. Got bored one day and tried heroin. End of conversation.

I feel like there should have been more we could do to help him. I think we did just enough, but couldn't do more because we were so removed from the reality he was choosing for himself. There was nothing we could do, but we did what we could.

I can't think of anything else to say. I feel like throwing up. I am still in the process of, well, processing what just happened. I'll write more later.

Joy will find a way

What kids think I should be; ticks on the dog

Doug woke up at 7:35 or so this morning, usually that's the time he's walking out the door.

He was mad because he didn't set the alarm or someone turned it off. I pointed out to him that I heard him hit snooze twice, and then I didn't hear anything after that.

Suffice to say, he was very late.

Geoff was sitting on the couch. He'd been awake for a little while, long enough to get the TV turned on and go to the bathroom. The fact he didn't come in to wake us up made me sad. I'd gotten used to the 6:30am crawl that he'd do, up into the bed with the pig, smelling warm and sleepy... I think that phase of our relationship is either over or suspended.

Doug rushed to get ready, I got the kids ready and knew I'd be taking Geoff to school. He was amazingly cooperative when I asked him to dress, clean up his dishes from breakfast, get his shoes and socks, get his backpack.

Geoff and I went to his school and I sat down on the rug with him to tie his shoes and say a quick prayer with him to get his morning going on a positive note.

Within a split second I was surrounded by four or five preschoolers, about 4 years in age, all telling me that they are puppies or kittens or babies for the game of "house" they were playing right there in the reading nook. I expressed interest in finding out who was a puppy or a kitten.

Next thing I know I'm there for about 45 minutes with kids taking turns sitting on my lap, reading stories, talking about favorite colors, finding out how one girl's grampa died last month, who lost a pet, who lost an uncle. Kids this age usually volunteer this kind of information willingly, to anyone who makes eye contact with them. You get a life story, a complete "Did you know my dad likes to watch football?" kind of thing.

I'm that kind of an adult. Doug is too. For some reason, we are kid magnets, always have been. I remember going over our friend G&K's and their little boy I became attached to Doug like nobody's business. We were amazed.

Some little kids hang back a bit, but when they see four or five others, they creep closer and begin to spill their guts on whatever the topic is. First it was favorite colors, then death, then uncles and aunts who live far away (I told them how Geoff's Aunt moved to Florida and they all have been to Florida at least once), then who has gone to Disney World, who was in a wedding... it wasn't going to stop. The teachers seemed amused, the director kept popping her head in to see what I was doing, and was laughing that I had such an audience.

One little girl, cute as can be, was missing her bottom front tooth. I was surprised and asked her when it fell out. She was three and she tripped and hit her face on the side of the coffee table in her house, and the tooth fell out. It's been gone ever since.

"What are you doing today?"
"Are you staying here with us?"
"You should take your coat off."
"You have gum on the bottom of your boot."
"Why are you wearing winter boots?"
"What kind of job do you have?"
What kind of JOB do I have?"

Uh, well.

"I don't have a job right now. I'm looking for a new one... any suggestions?"

Well, of course. These four year olds are very opinionated.

"You should be a teacher here. You'd make a great teacher. You are very friendly and Geoff already goes here so you should be our teacher," said one girl followed by several nods of agreement and big, hungry smiles. Aaah, a victim to lure into our lair they seemed to say, with their tiny teeth showing and eyes glinting in the fluorescent lighting... vampires these kids are. Vampires!

"How do you know I'd be a good teacher?" I asked.

"You sit on the floor," said another girl, "and you look like a good teacher, and Geoff is really smart."

Hmmmm. Geoff is really smart. That's the most positive feedback I've heard on him from anyone in a few months, from a four year old at that... So I must be doing a good job teaching him, according to this little girl. Okay. Let's keep going.

"You can be a mommy teacher. A mommy who works here and is a teacher like this mommy and that mommy and her mommy..." they were still hung up on the idea that I should be a teacher. I finally got them to move on from teaching.

"I think you should be a fire fighter."

"Why do you think I should be a fire fighter? That's a really hard job."

"You look like you could drive a fire truck really fast and you look really strong so you can rescue people from burning buildings when they can't breathe and they fall down."

Not bad... nice suggestion. I look strong too. I like how kids these days don't see gender as an issue when picking jobs for someone. Keep going...

"You can be a farmer."

"A farmer? What would I do on the farm?"

"You can work on a barn (note, on a barn is what the kid said... not in a barn or on a farm. On a barn. How funny is it when kids are still acquiring language) and you can take care of the horses and they'll listen to you."

Great suggestions, but I'm not in shape enough to be a fire fighter and I bet mucking stables doesn't pay more than unemployment.

So I got some good suggestions from kids. I doubt I will follow any of the career paths suggested, but

---

Jessica has the MCAS test today, and didn't remind me, so I didn't get her up early enough for breakfast... I threw a granola bar to her on her way out of the door.

There goes her academic future... she'll fail miserably and her "young girl dreams of Vassar" will vanish (to steal from Lisa Simpson).

Kidding. She'll do wonderfully. Last week they spent a whole day doing a "practice" run for today, which I found appalling... that they would spend a whole fucking day practicing to take a test. It's a full day test with a break for lunch and a snack break during the morning and afternoon. It has caused a lot of grief here in the state of Massachusetts, parents and kids all up in arms about the test. Failure to pass the one that you take in high school prevents you from graduating.

The first phase of MCAS that she took last year she scored in the 98th percentile I do believe. I think that it was reading comprehension. I don't recall what it is (way to keep up on the parenting here, Chris...) The rest of her class was in the 96th for average. So the school here is doing an amazing job with the kids. The pass rate for MCAS in our district is very good. I had to take very similar tests in New York State when I was growing up, I distinctly remember them. I remember not answering the questions but just filling in circles in a pattern. I tried to make a flower out of all the dots without checking two circles in the same line, which would be bad. No lie.

I'm surprised as hell they didn't pull me in and say "what the hell is this? A 10th percentile?"

I'd have admitted it to them if they did ask. I was bored, the tests were stupid and boring. I wonder if I accidentally filled out every single right answer. Regardless, I made it out of the elementary school and in high school took the test correctly, and obviously did well, but have no idea what my scores were. In New York, the test was a general Regents test... and then there were Advanced Placement tests. A ton of my friends were in AP classes, I took AP English, which I was told I didn't belong in by some of the teachers, but I loved English. My grades weren't great, but I stuck with it. When I took the AP test, I got a four. Yup. Highest grade you could get was a five. Ha. Made you think for a second I got four out of 100. Proudest achievement of my academic career was the four on the AP English test.

I have no worries about her, with or without breakfast, she'll shine. She isn't worried or stressed, for her, it's just another day. Some kids freak out when presented with just the concept of a test. Not her... She loves tests.

When Doug was in graduate school, he would bring tests home for preschool and early elementary school aged children and practice administering them on Jessica. He had to get the flow down, how to turn the pages, how long to give a kid, how to score the tests... and he had a willing subject in her. She loved it.

One test that he gave her corresponds very closely to an IQ test... the score you get is limitless, and is supposed to pretty much equal what your IQ is. She got a 174 on the test. Doug thought maybe he did something wrong in grading it. So after a few weeks he gave it to her again. The second time she got a 170.

"I'm afraid," said Doug to me as he held the scoring sheet. "I'm terribly afraid."

---

Geoff wouldn't sit still for the pre-preschool tests, which Doug took as a bad sign right from the start. He still doesn't sit and test well.

I sent in the paperwork to have him screened by a behavioral neurologist at a local hospital to see if he has anything that can be diagnosed. I don't want to stick a label on the kid, like "Oh, he's O.D.D. [what a great acronym, eh? Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Like kids aren't screwed up enough and they find out they are odd...]

I want to find out what we can do to work with him, if he needs medication or not. If it is strictly behavioral... and find out now. Doug has kind of dragged his feet on this, but the past week has shown that we have to get a handle on what's going on in his little head. So I'll be sure to keep people posted.

We got a great book called "The Explosive Child," which was recommended to Doug by his school psychologist. Doug is reading it now and is almost done, and yesterday he did a few things which he read in the book to diffuse Geoff's temper when we asked him to do something and he fought back. It was almost like magic... Geoff stopped the arguing, and did exactly what we needed him to do. I couldn't believe it.

One thing that we're both applying to Geoff is something that Doug shared with me last night -- never try and out yell your child. Your child will always win, and will piss you off and frustrate you and you will then lose your temper. Never try to out yell... which I always try and do. What I've been doing instead of yelling is talking softer and setting up the consequences. By talking softer, Geoff has to stop yelling to hear me. Then he hears the message. Bingo - he gets it.

Wow.

I never thought I could learn something new but there ya go.

We'll keep you posted on Geoff... pray for him if you pray. He can use all the mojo he can get.

---

It is tick season.

Last week I was sitting on the couch and noticed a lump right between Kinger's eyes. It was a tick. I pulled it out, dashed him with a swab of alcohol, and then sent him on his way. Doug later pulled one out from his cheek.

The next day I had him pinned down on the floor and was pulling and picking all over his big furry body... I got 20 frigging ticks off that dog. Twen-teee. Good gracious.

So now I am constantly checking his furry bod. He's got thick heavy fur, so you have to get your fingers in there tight and close to the skin and crawl around, which he absolutely loves. I brushed him twice this week, going against the grain, looking at the skin as the brush passed. He's never been so well groomed. I called the vet to get some tick medicine, which normally we don't put on him until May, but the incredibly mild winter has obviously benefited the tick population.

I think I'll take him swimming today because he can't go swimming for about 24 hours after the medicine is put on his back... and you know this dog loves to swim. So have a great day, stay on the look out for ticks, and enjoy the nice day (if you are in New England) before the rain comes tomorrow

What a hard weekend that was...

I am worn out.

It's almost 11 am, and I feel like I need a nap. I took Geoff to school because Doug got a late start. I woke up sad because there was no half dressed little boy snuggling up to me with a guinea pig in his hands whispering "isn't she cute? I love the guinea pig... Good morning mommy..." and it broke my heart. I could have just cried my eyes out right there. So I've been kind of down in the mouth, but trying to look on the bright side of life, even in the face of inadvertent death.

Geoff has been on best behavior since the pig incident, and I know he feels badly and is totally sorry. I've never seen him express regret, or remorse before, so this is all new. I'm sorry that he had to learn that his bad decisions sometime have bad consequences in this way, but I hope this lesson sticks with him.

Jessica already wants a new guinea pig. I told her no, not for a while. And when we do, we get a proper cage with a sturdy locking top that he can't open.

After I wrote about the incident yesterday, we had a funeral for Oreo. Jessica got one of her tiedye shirts, which used to belong to Doug back in the day. It had holes in it, and was all worn out. Hell, it must have been 15 years old... Doug looked shocked that it was her choice, but I totally agreed with it. She loved that shirt, and she loved that pig. They could be retired together. Geoff didn't take any of this seriously at first, which totally made Doug and me very nervous... what kind of a monster is he? Can he just kill a guinea pig and laugh it off.

Doug told me he thought the laughing when we would try and talk to him about what was happening was a nervous thing, but I didn't feel it was. Sometimes little kids laugh not to be mean or because they actually find humor in the situation, but because they are nervous and don't want it to show.

He was right. When we went outside, Doug had picked a place and dug a foot deep hole. He quartered an apple, and I wrapped the now very stiff guinea pig up in Jessie's shirt. I laid her in the ground (crying my ass off silently, whispering "bye pig,") and each of us put a quarter of the apple in with her, because it was her absolute favorite food. Then, Doug started to fill in the hole, and Geoff freaked out.

"Stop it! You can't do that! It's not true!!!" He started yelling. Right up to that point, he thought it was all alright. But here, seeing the reality of the grave, the finality of life, it hit him.

Doug let Jessica go in the house because she was very sad, she didn't need to see any more, but we made Geoff stay with us, and we talked to him by the now covered hole. She can't be woken up, the vet can't fix her, and God isn't going to make her alive again babe, she's gone.

He was really upset, and spent the afternoon crying and moping about the house. He played on the keyboard with Doug for a while, but he was certainly sullen, and very sad.

I feel horrible that we all had to go through this. I especially feel horrible about the guinea pig.

I looked up some stuff online about kids his age and death, why this happened, how to deal with it. We did everything right and he didn't do it intentionally or with malicious intent or depraved indifference (man, I sound like I'm on "Law and Order," don't I?), and it was an accident. Kids do stupid things like this, and man alive, I think it finally made a difference in him to see that not following rules and not listening to his parents does actually lead to bad ends.

I hope it really makes a difference in what he does in the future, and I am so sorry that the guinea pig was the "sacrificial lamb" to knowledge on his part. But I always try and see some sort of positive in things, ya know? And if the positive is that he finally gets it... well then hallelujah. I see Bart Simpson up on the statue of Jeremiah Obidiah Zechariah Springfield addressing the crowd with something along the lines of "this Sunday School student on the brink of redemption..." when they are ready to string him up for cutting off the head of the revered man's statue... and I think of Geoff. He's my Sunday School student on the brink of redemption... and I sure hope the lesson sticks.

No more guinea pigs for a while. Thanks.

---

And thanks to everyone who wrote me... I got some very sweet email from people. I guess that Lileks is right, that the web is a conversation, and I appreciated all the kind conversings that you folks did towards me. I'm humbled.

Earlier in the journal, Saturday to be exact, I mentioned we were going to Walden, to Concord, to places historic. Well, Doug found out they were doing a reinactment of Paul Revere's arrest down there at the national park, and it was supposed to be well attended, which meant tons of people and no fun for us, and we'd have to leave the dog home because he wouldn't be able to deal with the crowds... so we went to a place not too far from the house to walk. I took some pictures, here they are:

It wasn't Walden, but where we went did have conservation in mind. Here's the trail marker. It is somewhere we've gone a bunch of times. There's a good swimming hole for the dog(s). Aaron swam in it once. We learned there are leeches in the water there thanks to his experiment.

Geoff kind of looks like Kurt Cobain here. Piercing eyes. Grin. Blonde.
I thought Jessica did too at this age. She's grown out of that look.

Jess and Dog in the car... funny angle.

Aaaah, goood loooookin' doggie. He looks like the king of nature.

And another shot of Jess in car.

More of dog.

Me. Jessica insisted on taking my picture. I was harassing the kids by taking tons of pictures of them while Doug was in the store.

Geoff is a little nature boy. He loves to go for hikes. I look forward to having him all to myself for a while. We'll be doing this solo, with dog.

Doug and Geoff crossing a bridge, rather small in comparison to the old trees here.

Doug thought these buds was freaky. They were furry and grey, kind of like pussy willow, but on a tree, and they dangled down. We have no idea what they are. And I took this with a flash, so they look super funky.

Alrighty then. I have a curtain to make for Jessica's room, something to spray paint for a project for her for school which is due tomorrow. I have to buy rubber bands too for this (pictures coming, I assure you). And finally to finish up on the websites I've been building. I'm waiting for content from all three, one is 99% done. The other 80%, and the catering man's site is in its infancy.

My life... busy but boring.

To Grieve A Pig

I was very sad yesterday to read Shelley's account of the death of the one and only hairless pigpigpig Wilbur. I sent her a condolence email, letting her know I will think of her when I call our pig a pigpigpig, and to let her know I feel her pain.

Well, this morning rises and shines and we find ourselves pigless as well.

Geoff decided the guinea pig needed a bath while we were all sleeping. I'd been up twice this morning. The first time was to help him to turn on the television, the second was to make him come back inside because it was 29 degrees out and he was barefoot in shorts and a tshirt from sleeping.

I should have stayed up, this never would have happened, but I was tired and daylight savings time was kicking my ass.

Doug got up when the dog threw up (yes, the dog threw up in our bedroom, can't you tell this is just a gorgeous morning???) and went to get paper towels. He opened the bathroom door and the pig was in the sink. She was soaking wet, and there was no water in the sink and no Geoff.

Suffice to say, he either drowned her by accident or held her still because she was trying to get away. She was smelly, she needed a bath. So he says.

We grilled him and he said that she wouldn't be still so he had to hold her. So either he squeezed too hard or he just held her in there. Doug tried to revive her, when he picked her up he thought he felt a heart beat, but it was no use.

Geoff wanted us to call the Doctor and see if we could get her fixed. But it was too late.

I sat on the couch and cried, Doug lectured Geoff on what happens when you break the rules, the fact that every single day since she came in this house he took her out of her cage without asking permission, without asking a grown up.

Jessica didn't take it well. But she's already asked me for another one. The hell we'll get one anytime soon.

I'm not good with pet death. It is almost a year to the day (tomorrow) since we put My Missy down, and I'm just not emotionally stable when it comes to four legged death. So this is not a good time for me. This is bad. I'm sad enough about the pig, but have residual grief on Missy.

Later this afternoon I guess we'll bury her in the yard (Geoff said "YAY! I get to dig a hole!" to which we expressed displeasure, even though hole digging is one of his favorite things). Jessie is crying on her bed and will not allow any of us to console her.

chris farley and phil hartman...

Another day where I can pound out 2 entries in one day. I'm still waiting for the QA report, my boss left to go see Bon Jovi in concert (a 38 year old woman. She should be ashamed of herself. Bon Fucking Jovi? I mean really). I tried not to laugh in her face.

I've been thinking a lot lately about Phil Hartman and Chris Farley. While Doug and Jessie were away, E! Network ran their "True Hollywood Story" segments on both of them, back to back. I've never cried harder.

Chris Farley just breaks my heart. His face, his voice, his laugh... how he took everything way too far. And his brother's eulogy at the end of the show totally killed me. He took "the Clown's Prayer," which I guess someone wrote a long time ago for clowns, and turned it so that every sentence was about Chris

A Clown's Prayer

As I stumble through this life,
help me to create more laughter than tears,
dispense more happiness than gloom,
spread more cheer than despair.

Never let me become so indifferent,
that I fail to see the wonder in the eyes of a child,
or the twinkle in the eyes of the aged.

Never let me forget that my total effort is to cheer people,
make them happy,
and to forget,
at least momentarily,
all the unhappiness in their lives.

And in my final moment, may I hear You whisper,
"When you made my people smile,
You made me smile."
--Author Unknown

This is so appropriate for him. I sure do hope that God welcomed him into heaven even though he had issues. He struggled so hard with his problems, and tried so hard through his deeds and community service to make up for his sins. Sigh.

And Phil Hartman. What the fuck. I hate his stupid wife. I am so sad for their children.

I love Phil's voice and every single time I watch the Simpsons (which is twice a day at least) and he's on, I tear up. My husband started watching "News Radio" recently, and I just don't know why I never got into it the first time through on NBC, but not when I watch the show it is so bittersweet for me, and I can't help but love it. I'm glad there are little bits of Phil around.

I love when I'm listening to radio commercials and someone is doing their best Phil Hartman. Without any sense of Irony, Sarcasm... it's just damn funny.

I love the picture up in the corner, because Hartman played the the well-dressed, smarmy white-class elitist, and Farley the lout, bungler, poorly dressed buffoon so well... that this picture just sort of has them both in their element. I loved Matt Foley sketches, where Farley would rant about the Van Down By The RIVER! and break stuff falling around.

A lot of people contend there is a curse on the SNL cast, what with Belushi, Radner, Farley, and Hartman all being dead in 20 years... but I think that celebrity just leads to certain events. Gilda Radner got cancer, which happens, and so did Julia Sweeney but she survived simply by the benefit of having it 10 years after Radner did when treatment was more advanced. Drug addictions and the problems around them kill a lot of people, not just celebrities, and what happened to the Hartman family is just a complete tragedy and should never have happened. I don't think there's any sort of curse... unless you count Chevy Chase's continued existence as part of it.

I don't watch too much SNL anymore. I love Will Farrell and some of the stuff he does. He's got the greatest faces and is just so funny. But I don't know if his career would ever move to leading man status, the way Mike Meyers and Adam Sandler have of late. I think Adam Sandler is so funny too. But all of them put together can never be as funny in my book as Farley and Hartman. And even though it has been a few years since we lost both of them, they actually cross my mind on an almost daily basis. And I never even knew these guys.

But they sure made me laugh.