torn.

PAMIE: [Answering phone] Hello?

MOM: Do you have something you need to tell me?

PAMIE: … Um… uh… well, uh… do you want to maybe give me a hint or a topic? Because this seems like a trick.

MOM: Your knee.

PAMIE: Oh.

MOM: I do read your website, you know. I didn’t, but I do now. Again. And you’re right. I was watching that game going, “My baby’s hurt! Don’t show other people, show my baby!” But you got back up and skated again so I wasn’t worried.

PAMIE: That’s why I got up.

MOM: I know. But you were hurt. You were lying. Read more

sage.

Sage, the smartest dog in the universe, the one who helped my sister survive high school, nursed my dad through chemo and radiation, and helped my mom with both her empty nest syndrome and finding her footing after Dad died, was put down yesterday after sixteen long, wonderful years of life. Sage understood an incredible amount of conversational English and — somehow — Christmas, always opening her present when it was her turn, parading the new toy in a boastful prance before adding it to her seemingly endless collection.

She made it through yet another move into a new house, the one that’s been in my family for decades, where my father grew up. I think she got there, felt the memory of my dad in the walls and floorboards, and knew she’d finally gotten my family to a safe place. That’s when her legs gave out, legs that have had more torn ACL’s than an athlete.

My mom told me the words she whispered into Sage’s ear as she fell asleep for the last time were, “Go find Daddy.” I really can’t think of that without bursting into tears, every single time.

Goodbye, Sage. Wise old Sage. You were never just a dog.

Toad the Wet Sprocket: Pale

Song: “Torn

If you had walked into my bedroom any night of my high school years, there was a 85% chance you were going to hear this album playing. I would often turn it on to mask the fact that I was on the phone, hiding under the covers, in the dark. The opening notes of this song still remind me of staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, tears in my eyes, my fingers tangled in phone cord, as I yearned to be wherever it was the person holding the other end of the line was standing.

Read more

Bumming You Out

My thoughts are with those dealing with Katrina. I used to live in Hinds County, Mississippi, and I know what it’s like to wait out a storm, wondering at what point you have to evacuate.

[db]

When I get to work in the morning, there’s usually the latest draft of that week’s script on the floor just outside my office. Balancing my gym bag, my purse, my computer bag and a cup of coffee, I bend over to pick it up. Only today I noticed that when I stood back up, script in hand, I involuntarily groaned. Because of my¬†knees. I don’t like this recent development in my life. I’m going to pretend it’s because I’ve been very good at going to the gym in the mornings, and not because it’s another fun-fact of turning thirty. I got carded last night. And three times last week. Clearly I am no longer talking to you, just reassuring myself. And that’s… okay. Read more

ugh.

I lost this entry already once. Now I will rewrite in shorthand.

I had a bad show last night. Here are the excuses:
* I just moved.
* I was moving during the rehearsals
* Mom called just before the show to tell me she was going into surgery tomorrow because the dog bit her a week and a half ago, snapping a ligament in her finger. Mom’s getting a pin in her finger. Mom always prided herself on never having a broken bone, and now she does. From the dog, who was freaked out because she’s moved and twelve and got scared.

But the real reasons: Read more

‘Til I’m Home Again and Feeling Right

It’s a very strange sensation, walking into my mom’s new house, seeing everything I associate with home (the dog, the bookshelves, the large dining room table, Mom) in a place I’ve never seen before in my life. It’s exactly like when you dream that you’re in your house but it’s not your house but it is your house. Dan’s standing there, in my house, next to my mom, which is very dream-like indeed, since I think they hadn’t seen each other in four years. Dan’s petting the dog, who is in a backyard I’ve never seen before, and Mom’s wearing an ankle bracelet I’ve never seen before. She lives in Connecticut now and I had nothing to do with this move. Her house is still in boxes. She shows me the bracelet — it’s from high school, when she went on a date with a boy. The boy is now a man and he is back in her life. She smiles as she holds it, her eyes getting a little dreamy. Read more