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This was the first thing my father said as he was rolled out of day surgery, in response to our relieved smiles and I love yous and hellos.
“Lamb.” This was the second thing. He said it with reverence. “But… in small quantities,” he emphasized.
My dad had been without food, on call waiting for surgery since Wednesday. Which means, as he put it to me, he was vaguely hungry, but not, all at the same time.
I think you can learn a lot about your family if you catch them high on pain medication.
“Hi!”
My dad is of the sort who becomes very, very friendly. Also? He had this glow, this aura of peace and love surrounding him. I should have asked the nurse what they had given him, exactly.
“I see angels and love surrounding me… why are there 8 of you?”
We were four.
“Wh… I married two women?”
My dad is also the kind of man who jokes. A lot. Not necessarily good jokes, but the kind that always bring a wry smile to my face. I think mostly I pretend he’s not that funny because I secretly think he’s hilarious and there is residual 15 year old in me that refuses to acknowledge that her dad might actually be cool on some level, maybe.
There is something to be said for visiting someone in hospital. It removed every ounce of fear, every trace of doubt that he will be okay, when I saw my dad today. I guess I’m kind of like that guy in the bible who needed to see to believe. You know the guy.
I’m always surprised at how much sadness and seriousness there isn’t, in situations that maybe warrant it. When my sister was in the hospital, it was very much the same, despite the severity of her injury. And now, with my dad, except for the worry coming off my mother in waves, we could have been hanging out in the living room, dad was so intent on being himself.
Okay. Also, he was high. Dad’s naturally funny, but high Dad is much more vocal about things, and it is hilarious.
“Thank you so much for coming, I appreci– Where’s Tanya?”
She was on her way. We had to tell him seven times.
Anyway, I don’t have a point to this post, except to to express my mixed relief and joy at seeing my daddy look so glowingly healthy, despite having been on a hospital bed and just rolled out of surgery.
“I… have… THE POWER!”
Or maybe that was He-Man.
Sometimes, random catch phrases from the cartoons of my youth pop into my brain. And I have to bite my tongue to refrain from saying them outloud, in a booming voice.
Sometimes, biting my tongue doesn’t quite work.
And now you know what it’s like to be me, a little bit of the time.
Three years together, and I want to mention three things that make this relationship.
1. He loves all the parts of me. Even the parts he doesn’t quite understand. I love very nearly everything about him. When it comes to the things I don’t love, I accept them, and love him just the same.
2. He thinks I’m just the best, the prettiest, the niftiest, and the awesomest. And he’s right.
3. I can feel how much he loves me, when he isn’t even talking to me. I can’t stop telling him I love him, and I can love him as hard as I want, and he can take it. He just loves me right back.
Happy anniversary, baby.
Because you asked:
And then this one:
Go on and judge. I can take it.
“You don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that. I just said that I prefer your hair longer.”
“So you hate it? Ugh.”
“Baby. Do you like it?”
“I keep thinking that hair grows, and that the wedding isn’t until next year, and that hair grows.”
“Mhm.”
“And I haven’t figured out how to wear it quite yet.”
“Okay.”
“So I don’t hate it. But then, hate is a strong word.”
“So you like it?”
“… like is a strong word too.”
Get up.
You can get up.
It’s time to get up.
Don’t think about it, don’t worry about it, it’s okay, you don’t have to dwell on it quite yet. You just take one day at a time, okay?
Get up now though, you’ve been in bed for hours.
I know there’s that feeling in your stomach again, that feeling of dread pooling there. You have to do something about it before it grows into something bigger. You can exercise more. Take that pretty puppy for a nice long walk.
Go downstairs, go downstairs, you can go downstairs, it’s a start.
Have some cereal. Have something, it may ease that hollow feeling in your stomach.
If it’s job related, you can look for another one. Jobs are all over. You can look for another one. You don’t have to quit, you can just look for something else, something that suits you, land it, and then quit.
You don’t have to worry about being unemployed again quite yet. I hope.
You didn’t screw up that badly. You’ve been doing this job for a very short time, you’re bound to make some mistakes. Your boss appreciates that. One bad review, if it actually is coming, is not going to get you fired. You have been doing well, just a few mistakes. Everyone makes them.
You can look for another job, you can look for another job, you can look for another job.
You need to eat something. You could shower, it will probably make you feel better.
I know she hasn’t asked, but you really ought to let the dog out, she hasn’t been out in a while.
You have to get up though, to do any of these things. This bed doesn’t feel friendly anymore. You have to get up, you have to get up.
You can get up! Get up, you need to take care of your dog. Your dog is hungry, without a doubt.
Get up now, please.
Doug and Therese, originally uploaded by the origin of shoeism.
Here we are in black and white.
Gloriously adorable.
In my job, I end up having to assign cases to myself and to my coworkers. Some of these cases come in via email, and I like to put little notes asking for assistance in them. Often, I send compliments or quips or some small measure of smile-inducing commentary. It’s funny to me to write “You’re looking particularly lovely today, Jenn” to my coworker in another province who I have never met.
Ha.
Asking your own self for help, well that always feels kinda funny by default. I don’t think just because it’s sent to me means I should be exempt from compliments, however, so I like to add little notes to myself, to receive the following day. For example:
Dear Therese:
Please assist with this case.
By the way, I like your hair like that, and I really like the way you’ve incorporated that flower in your hair.
Sincerely,
Therese
Sometimes, I do stupid things that require a little bit more reassurance from my complimenting myself persona. Which explains this email, that I sent myself today:
Rezzie:
Please assist with this escalation.
Thanks!
Thérèse
PS. Don’t worry too much about the accidentally short haircut that no one comments on because although it is drastic and noticeable, and so people should comment on it, it is kind of awful, and most people around here are just too nice to say anything mean so they hold their tongue. You’d think there’d be at least one good liar in the bunch but no dice. Anyway, just get it fixed at a fancy salon. It’ll be okay. Really. It’s not like you’re going to be immortalized on camera with it in wedding pictures or anything. Just don’t do this again next year right before the wedding, SO HELP ME.
Did I mention that my boss is copied on all of these assignments? My boss is copied on all of these assignments. It’s probably in my best interest that the man has a sense of humour.
Haircut, originally uploaded by the origin of shoeism.
“That’s why my hair is so big. It’s full of SECRETS.”, originally uploaded by Valancy Jane.
I love this woman. She kills me. Also, this is part of my testing with Flickr. Please bear with me as I test the shit out of this system and find my way. Isn’t this a lovely picture of a lovely girl though?
My legs, originally uploaded by the origin of shoeism.
Another photograph I forgot I took. This one taken in April. If you click the picture it’ll redirect to my Flickr page, which I have decided to begin using more regularly.
Good way to remember what outfit combination I like. It’s like Polaroids, only slower. (Name that movie reference.)
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