I heard a piece on the radio about how it is all about being connected in the world today. For kids growing up, it is all they know - computers, cell phones, myspace, and lots of other things I don't really get.

I don't like the idea of everyone and anyone knowing my business. I just visited my netflix queue and thought I would invite my aunt to be my friend. That was a big step for me. An even bigger step would be if I posted this link:
http://www.netflix.com/BeMyFriend/PiSlUxvsYQK2Cr0GfOCh

Now ALL of the people who read this blog will know what movies I watch. That would kind of gross me out if I thought anyone read this.

Laugh

I just got off the phone with my mom. She laughed just like my grandma (and her mother) used to laugh. I loved her laugh. I can't really explain it, but no one else laughs like she did. Until now. It was eerie.

Maybe it is a grandma laugh. My mom became a grandma on Monday.

I can't wait for it to slip out again.

I am now an aunt. That word looks kind of old to me. I hope I am not called "auntie". Just my name is fine. My niece is very cute - she's not all scrunched up and discolored like some newborns. I am quite proud of my brother and his wife.

Ten spot

On January 29, 1998 at 11:49am I took $10 out of an ATM. Hardly seems worth the trouble.



The receipt from this transaction was carelessly tucked into a stack of musty cancelled checks.



Oh...the good old days! When you could take as little as a ten spot out of an ATM and when the banks returned your cancelled checks to you with your monthly statement.



I tend to get nostalgic about things that happened in the 1990s (my favorite decade). I crumpled up the receipt and threw it on the pile of old papers that had accumulated on the floor.

Before I knew it tears welled up in my eyes and I remembered. January 29, 1998 was one of the last days I could see the world like a "normal" person. A couple days later I would be in the hospital in a drug-induced coma. When I woke up on February 10th, I was blind.

I miss being able to see more than the equivalent of looking through a peep hole on a hotel room door. I don't let myself think about it too often because it makes me too sad. It is easier to miss the by-gone banking practices than your vision.

Now, I wonder if I can toss these old checks?

Today's a good day.

Today my dad and I were going over a dialog for our Irish class when he suddenly became choked up. My dad can be a little bit of a sap at times, so this behavior was not unusual. A good sports movie always brings a tear to his eye, as do stories about poor children from the ghetto who beat the odds and grow up to be doctors and professors. He also tends to get misty- eyed when he listens to Irish rebel music or a Judy Collins record. As a kid, my dad was much more demonstrative than my mom. This was just one aspect of my formative years that contributed to some confusion later in life as to the socially ascribed gender roles. I will get into that at a later date.

It is so strange how you can do the same things over and over with no associations to a past memory and then one day you are reading about Cait asking Nora if it is a good day and suddenly you are in the middle of a big pool of memory. This has happened to me before. For a split second sadness/nostalgia/happiness/pain/regret roll through you, filling your entire body and then poof! it all disappears and before you go back to feeling normal you feel empty.

i ask my dad what is wrong when he doesn't respond for several minutes.

"We used to always say to my dad when he got home from work, 'Today is a good day, papa'."

He never talks about his dad. My grandpa died when Dad was just twelve-years-old. He had a heart attack while the two of them were walking home from the lake. It was just the two of them. He died instantly.

I supressed my desire to ask him questions on the subject. This was not an "in" to a discussion on the grandpa I know so little about and my dad never talks about. This was Dad's few moments of memory flooding in, filling him up, and then draining out. We continued with the dialog. It is a good day.

What do you do with a kangaroo?

I just got the best children's book ever for my niece: What do you do with a kangaroo? by Mercer Mayer.
This was one of my favorite books as a kid. The story features a tough heroine who battles her way through an array of demanding animals who invade her space and bother her as she just tries to go about her daily business. It is fantastic. Can't wait to send it to M&J so they can start reading it to her.

I am surprised with how excited I am for my niece to be born. I can't even imagine how her parents are feeling!

St. Patrick's Day

My dad and I are taking Irish classes. He is the biggest brown-nose around. He will ask questions that showcase what he knows in order to elicit the response "An-mhaith", very good. This is all kind of cute until it involves me. He signed us up to volunteer at the organizations table at a St. Patrick's Day celebration at Landmark Center in Saint Paul. I am full of the volunteer spirit, however I know where my strengths are. When the volunteer coordinator came to our class with the sign-up sheet, Dad jumped at the opportunity to be the first one on the list. Which meant I was second.

Since I don't see very well, I guess I assume that a duty that asks you to make eye contact with people passing by might not be my thing. I don't do well in big groups where people are coming and going and asking questions about something I have studied for only six weeks while Irish music is blaring in the background while little girls with creepy curly wigs dance around.

Not my thing. I survived our shift and everyone was very nice to me, but I felt like such a dork. I avoid putting myself in those types of situations because I hate feeling this way. Of course if I didn't do things I was uncomfortable with, I would rarely leave the house. I have been legally blind for nine years and by now I am able to weigh the pros and cons of any given situation and decide if it is a good way to spend my time. I have been surprised, but ususally I am right.

We don't even get graded.

Aunt

There will be a baby in our family for the first time in twenty-nine years when my niece is born in June. I am very excited. I think I am well-suited to the role of aunt. My brother and sister-in-law also asked me to be a godmother (no godfather, just my sister and I fulfilling the duties of godparents). I am relieved there will be someone to carry on the family legacy.

My entire family is eager to meet the new arrival My dad was born to be a grandfather - he has the corny sayings and jokes down. I am pleased that my niece will have a grandpa. I never did and I always longed for a grandpa to bring me fishing or bring me to the track or bring me somewhere.

Can't wait.

Press "9" to resave

My grandma called me once and left me a voice mail message:

"Annie, this is your grandma".

Grandma rarely called anyone and most certainly never left a message. I guess that was why I saved it. I have no idea why she called or when the message was left. For a split second every ninety days when the kind voice mail lady asks me if I want to erase this message or save it, I consider getting rid of it. She has been dead almost three years.

I am not ready to let go. I will be at some point, but not yet.. When I hear her words, a warm wave a love flows over me and I smile.

Today I was told by the voice mail lady that the message had been saved for the maximum time allowed and I opted to resave. We will see what I do in ninety days...

Hey Barbie, it's Ken...

My sister had a great voice she used when Ken would call in from the road. Nasal and gutteral all in one. Ken was a businessman and he was always out-of-town. He called once a day to check in with Barbie. The conversations were typically short depending on how long we could control our laughter. That voice really cracked us up.

We never had a Ken doll, but since he was supposedly Barbie's boyfriend I guess we felt compelled to keep to the story. I didn't miss Ken and neither did Barbie. Barbie really didn't have time for Ken, what with all those clothes to try on and lunches with her friends who all looked exactly like her.

I recently asked my mom about the absence of Ken dolls at our house. She said she didn't like the idea of dolls modeled after adults. But Barbie had all the clothes and accessories that were fun, so she allowed her. What did Ken have? Some sleazy rubber loafers and polyester slacks? How much fun is it to slip yet another cheesy computer-knit sweater? I don't know if Mom would have felt differently if the Ken you could shave had been introduced when we were small.

I am nearly thirty-five-years-old and single. I am not fond of being nearly thirty-five, but I am fine with being single. Several years ago I created an ideal boyfriend in my mind. He would work as a roadie for a band that tours regularly over time like Bruce Springsteen or U2. A roadie would be perfect because he would be gone for extended periods of time, but when he was in town he would be handy around the house. For instance, he would excell at keeping my cords in order - my cords are such a mess (computer. printer, TV, DVD player, VCR, stereo, phone, various chargers, etc).

Do you think the two things are related? Sometimes I wish I wanted the things society tells us we should have and most people seem to want. But then would I feel bad because I was single or would I have found someone because I wanted that?