I went to the dermatologist today. The wee red spot on my forhead is just a burst blood vessel (whew!) The thing by my eye that would not heal is Something That Had to be Removed and Now. There was a shot of novocaine and then prodding with a sharp thing. "Can you feel that?"
"Ouch!"
Another shot of numbingness. Stabbing pain.
"Ouch!"
A new bottle of numbing solution. Shot.
"Can you feel this?"
"Huh?"
Then there was cutting motion. Then there was en electrical burning smell. The burning of my flesh. Eww.
And now there is a black pock in the spot that wouldn't heal. But I'm OK with that. There will be a biopsy and results. The doc looked up my melanoma biopsy results from june and said it was very very thin. "You caught it early." I beamed like a proud parent and patted myself, mentally, on the head.
And the dematologist wants to see me every six months for a mole check. And I like that, because I want to be checked, regular-like.
Now, I think I deserve a nap.
Me: (In lecturing-auntie mode.) Today is about being thankful. Did you know that?
4 year old niece: Uh huh.
Me: What are you thankful for?
Niece: I already said at school.
Me: Will you tell me?
Niece: OK. I'm thankful for my necklaces.
Today I go to the airport to get Pamela and we will zip over to my friend Kia's baby shower to drop off a prezzie. Then we will head to LA for Dalal's mom's funeral.
Birth and Death.
The circle of life, right here, embedded in my little weekend.
Little tiny bodies are made and they are a miracle. Then they grow old and ill and fade and extinguish and that is a kind of miracle too. But an uneasy one. Years ago there were baby showers and presents and oohs and ahhs for marie, the new baby. And now there are flowers and new black skirts and directions to the church. Finding a hankerchief to cry into. Cookies baked, coffee made. Phone calls. Dalal's hoarse, tired voice.
Life just keeps eating its own tail.
Johnny Depp doing a Scottish accent? Hell, yes.
Wireless! Hot for wireless!
Assam Extra Fancy tea with soy milk. Hells, yes.
Sweet potatoes with butter and brown sugar. Oh, God.
Lentils and rice.
Chocolate covered pretzels. Sweet and salty!
Wearing sweaters.
I've been thinking recently that I'm ready to have some money in my life. Ready for that Big Job, that Career thing to happen. Then, yesterday, I had a flash back to my life in SF when I was a manager at for Peet's. One of the things about my life that I disliked at the time was that I had too much money. I indulged myself too much. I bought Things. Every day off, it seemed, I was shopping, buying, getting, craving. It left a bad taste in my mouth. I went to Texas and was ecstatically poor. Simple Living was what they called it. Lord how I appreciated a good beer when it was out of my price range! How the Olive Garden seemed like heaven when restaurants were out of reach. I bought clothes for 25 cents a pound at Ropa Usada and was never happier!
So now, here I am. A little tired of struggling. Thinking about getting a dog or pregnant or being a foster parent. Thinking about having a steadier life, a little more dough. Thinking how I want to be living at forty.
And like so many other things in my life, it turns out that my old friend ambivalence is running the show.
Denise made me look at a cute big dog in a tiny car.
Me: Man, I want a dog.
Denise: Not me. Too much responsibility.
Me: (sighing) Yeah, I guess so.
Denise: I got some fish, and man, they are f#@&ing killing me.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIMMER! JIM-JIM! JIMMY MCGHEE! I'm glad you were born.
Ugh. Feeling so sad and sinusy. Feeling betrayed by my own sense of optimism. Feeling hung over from the hype and voting high. But last night was fun. I went with some work friends to a bar downtown called The Local, only to be turned away at the door because they were having a private party. "Is this a work event?" I asked a small brunette by the front door.
"Actually?" she said in her cute, small voice. "It's for the Republican Club at USD."
"Oh." I said. As we walked down the street to the next bar, we talked about all the things we should have said. Like, "Well, I guess you don't want a bunch of leftist/gay/feminist/Kerry voters crashing your party."
"USD has a Republican Club? How weird for a private Catholic school full of entitled, rich white people!"
"Good job protecting your Daddy's money."
Bitchy stuff like that.
So we drank and hassled our Bush voting waiter (and tipped him well for the trouble) and thenm went over to Golden Hall which was as fun and exciting as I remembered it from a previous election. It was packed full of people carrying signs and cheering for their candidates. We got slapped with stickers for Donna Frye, for Choice. We were slap happy! At one point Shawna passed a little boy in a tie who was covered in Bush/Cheney buttons and she said to him, "Did your Dad make you wear that?" The poor kid just looked pained but I had to laugh. There were an alarming number of Republican children there.
The only thing that is making me smile right now is the fact that Donna Frye, a left leaning surfer chick and write in candidate, is possibly going to be the mayor of this Republican town. Go DONNA! I'm loving you like a two dollar whore!
I can't wait to vote today. I especially can't wait to find out that we have taken back the mother effin country! YAY!