atomic mama

Let us speak of marzipan. Let us do so in reverent tones of love and joy. And let us speak of Shane in the same way, because after years and years of hinting . . . he finally got me the ultimate gift of love. A marzipan advent calendar. It’s big, it’s German, and it’s mine. Each day I open the door to a new marzipan experience. I just wish they’d make these things all year long.

pandora radio. dude.

For the last week or so I’ve been thinking of the day Lina became ours. I swear I can still feel the heat of her, the weight of her little plump, padded babyness in my arms.

She and I are spending the day together today. I decided that I just can’t let her out of my sight. It’s a gorgeous fall day, and there are books to be read, walks to be taken, and cookies to be made.

Two years. In some ways it feels like yesterday, in some ways it’s a lifetime. I can still remember the time just before I met Lina. How the longing for her tugged at my heart, day in and day out. It wore me down and it sustained me. All that intensity, and I still didn’t really understand how amazing this was going to be.

Even now, I am only just starting to.

Lina put on her socks and shoes. By herself.

Later, alone in the shower, I cried some mama-tears.

Lessons in letting go. I know. But I don’t want to learn them. Not every day. Not today.

During the month or so before my trip to Texas, I’d been having lots of headaches. I went through an entire bottle of ibuprofen, as well as an entire bottle of vodka. I was hurting. Almost every day. One evening I joked with Shane that maybe I had a brain tumor. Funny, I know. Hilarious.

Then we went to Texas. And when the plane made its descent into the Austin airport, I thought my head might explode. I’d never felt that kind of pain in my head before: stabbing, sharp, incredibly intense. I worried about passing out. I worried that perhaps I did have a brain tumor after all. But mostly, I worried about the fact that we were landing in Texas. It was very clear to me that, if I needed a brain surgeon, I wanted one in Seattle. One that did not wear cowboy boots. One that did not chew tobacco. One that had, in fact, been to medical school.

The plane landed, and my pain receded but continued on. The next morning it still hurt. So I did what I do when my back’s to the wall: I Googled. And I found that it was probably just a sinus issue. Nothing dramatic. The town doctor-slash-veterinarian was not needed after all. I simply needed some Sudafed. Which, after a thorough background check, I was able to purchase.

The Sudafed helped. And since returning home, I’ve been taking it when I get my headaches. I’m not sure this is sustainable, but it’s working. Working better than caffeine or alcohol or sleep. Not that I’m abstaining from any of those things.

Just back from the Great State of Texas. We were in Austin, at the ACL Music Festival. We had a wonderful time. The barbeque was tasty, the folks were friendly, and the music was kick-ass. We’re considering making it an annual trip.

Thanks to Omi, Tut, Rob, Renee, Blake and Kristin, for keeping our life in Seattle together while we took a much-needed break. And thanks to Bob Dylan for still getting out there, and still meaning every word of it.

We have a beautiful, gentle, loving new family member! Daisy retired from racing a few years ago, and we are thrilled to have her. She’s all legs and heart. Welcome, Daisy!

Hope you got to see the eclipse last night. Wow. What a lovely reminder of the silent constancy of things.

I’m now done with school, and ready to be on to the next thing. My sabbatical? No, that’s the next next thing. Right now the next thing seems to be playing guitar and obsessing over sudoku puzzles until I pass out at 2am.

And right now the next thing might be another dog.

Now wait. I know what you’re thinking. So stop it and just listen.

We have lots of friends with multiple kids, and many of those folks tell me that they just knew they wanted another kid. That their family was incomplete without just one more college tuition to save for. I don’t feel that. I’ve thought about it a lot, meditated on it some, and in general have let it go. It’s not there. I can’t conjure it.

However, I do feel that longing when it comes to having another sweet doggie soul in the family. As soon as we made the decision (read: as soon as I talked Shane into it) to get Cooper, I started saying “dogs.” Plural. It felt so natural. I like saying “dogs” the way that I imagine some people like saying “kids.” Now, don’t get me wrong… “my daughter” is one of the most delicious phrases I’ll ever have the privilege of uttering. I imagine I’ll always feel like I’ve won the great lottery prize of life when I say those words.

But yes, I want another dog. And no, Cooper wasn’t the right dog for our family. But there is another dog out there. And at the moment, I’m thinking that it might be a retired racing greyhound. I’ve been learning about them, and despite their being Lily’s physical opposite (so much so that I’m afraid they’ll co-annihilate when brought into the critical radius), they’re temperamentally much like Lily. They’re couch potatoes. Really, really fast couch potatoes.

They’re also good with kids and other animals. And they’re gorgeous.

I’ll keep you posted. I have a lot more to learn, and I have to allow Shane time to get used to the idea. But as you know, when the atomic mama is happy, everybody’s happy.

I’d like a friend, please. A very, very tall friend.