In the grand tradition of a road trip slash quest movie, Barb and I, together with our coworker Archonix, headed north on I-5 to see the Police concert at Dodger Stadium.
As I commented to Archonix towards the end of the concert, it's a good thing he's not my boyfriend as he would have surely dumped my ass. :D
I was probably having a challenging day to start as I had to face my mother for the first time since moving her to California and disposing of her worldly goods. She seemed glad to see me, but announced her imminent departure. So did I: "It's time to goooooo!" I hollered at Barb, and so off we went to get Archonix.
We hooked up Gidget, Barb's talking GPS. Gidget is somewhat slow. She's the kind of girl who tells you several feet too late that you've reached the intersection at which you want to turn. But she can be useful when going somewhere that you're only vaguely familiar with.
After a late lunch in Tustin, we continued northward. Traffic flowed smoothly until we got into downtown, where it crawled to a stop as other concert-goers clogged the lane into which we needed to merge. An odd smell wafted into the car; we thought it was the truck ahead of us. But no, as the billows of smoke proved once Barb's car staggered into the Dodger Stadium parking lot, it was the car in which we rode.
"You go on ahead," said Barb, reaching for her miraculous OnStar, which is as handy a gadget as Gidget. We were already an hour and a half late, what with lunch and traffic. As Archonix (who had been regretting not using the facilities available after we finished our lunch...for the past twenty miles or so) and I crossed the parking lot on foot, Barb ordered a tow truck come to whisk her car to a repair shop. A diva in her own element, it seemed!
Dodger Stadium is very large. One cannot guess which entrance to use from the outside. Archonix and I chose poorly twice and finally got to the correct entrance which was handily close to the restrooms. We availed ourselves, found a short concession line and as we were heading on our way (of course, to the opposite side of the stadium where our seats were actually located), the Police came onstage and the main event began.
It was a pretty good show. Even though they did mess with the familiar tempo of some of the songs, everything was recognizable. When they finished the third encore, Archonix and I tried to find an exit that, as texts from Barb indicated, would lead us toward downtown LA and the Bonaventure, where she had decided to wait out the concert once her car was towed away. Um, and when she realized she couldn't rent a car without a credit card...which none of us had brought up, since we didn't envision car trouble.
"I'm a mile away, you can walk here," Barb had texted me. Dutifully, I stopped a security person to ask which stadium exit we should use to do so.
"You don't want to do that," she replied, recoiling in horror, "Those neighborhoods aren't safe. Head upstairs and you can catch a cab out that way."
But the escalators were blocked by other security folks, as were the stairs. Archonix and I tried instead to exit the way we had entered, but were told that there would be no taxis that way. The guard there pointed us back the way we came.
Would we ever find a way to leave Dodger Stadium and reach my sister? ...
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Happiness is...
...having two cats and a cherub who are happy to see you return :)
Two cats follow me from room to room, begging me to scritch their heads. They're so cute! Mittens is curled up beside me now, purring.
Chris and I walked to the post office yesterday so he could buy 1 cent stamps. He is making a living selling Oz Fest tickets on eBay, apparently, but only has the 37 cent stamps handy.
He puts a quarter into the stamp vending machine, enters in a number and stamps roll out, followed by the clatter of change.
"It reminds me of those games at Chuckee Cheese," I said as Chris picked up the coins and put them back into the machine to get more stamps, "The ones with the tickets."
More stamps unfurl from the machine, followed by more change clattering out.
Me: "Ooh! We're winning! And we get change back! This is great! I love this game!"
Chris: "Heh...I love you, mom."
Hearing that, my friends, makes being a goofball all worthwhile.
Two cats follow me from room to room, begging me to scritch their heads. They're so cute! Mittens is curled up beside me now, purring.
Chris and I walked to the post office yesterday so he could buy 1 cent stamps. He is making a living selling Oz Fest tickets on eBay, apparently, but only has the 37 cent stamps handy.
He puts a quarter into the stamp vending machine, enters in a number and stamps roll out, followed by the clatter of change.
"It reminds me of those games at Chuckee Cheese," I said as Chris picked up the coins and put them back into the machine to get more stamps, "The ones with the tickets."
More stamps unfurl from the machine, followed by more change clattering out.
Me: "Ooh! We're winning! And we get change back! This is great! I love this game!"
Chris: "Heh...I love you, mom."
Hearing that, my friends, makes being a goofball all worthwhile.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Twelve Hours
At first it seemed that three weeks would be plenty of time. Now that it's at an end, it feels not nearly enough. There's still some crap to deal with in the apartment, but Cathy promised that she will take care of everything. I can't say enough good things about her. It'll be great when she moves up to San Diego in a couple of years!
Kurt took me to dinner tonight, and tomorrow he'll pick me up at the car rental place to take me to the airport. I'm sorry I haven't seen more of him, but then again, I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway. Every day was pretty draining, both emotionally and physically.
The other day, I left OSM's and drove around, looking at familiar old places. Some of them, I'd forgotten about until I passed by (as in, "Oh, yeah! Olav and I 'parked' behind that building once!") and the road wound its way past Punchbowl. I haven't been there since I was a child.
Everything is high tech now. I checked their computer and got a printed map that showed me where Aquim's grave is. I went to his funeral, but didn't attend the burial. I parked my car and clutching the map, glanced at the headstone beside me to see which way to go...and it was right there. Even though I meant to find him, it was so surprising to have his grave right beside me that I started crying.
It wasn't just being sad over his death, but just how when he was killed, it was like the last of my innocence. Before that, things were difficult, but there was always something funny to remember. And after, I was sad for quite a long while. Kind of like now...I feel sad. I feel as though I'm not getting anything accomplished. I'm restless and too tired to move.
I sat there for a long time, until it started to rain. As I drove away, there was a rainbow in the valley below. Something good always happens, it just sometimes takes a while.
Kurt took me to dinner tonight, and tomorrow he'll pick me up at the car rental place to take me to the airport. I'm sorry I haven't seen more of him, but then again, I probably wouldn't have been able to anyway. Every day was pretty draining, both emotionally and physically.
The other day, I left OSM's and drove around, looking at familiar old places. Some of them, I'd forgotten about until I passed by (as in, "Oh, yeah! Olav and I 'parked' behind that building once!") and the road wound its way past Punchbowl. I haven't been there since I was a child.
Everything is high tech now. I checked their computer and got a printed map that showed me where Aquim's grave is. I went to his funeral, but didn't attend the burial. I parked my car and clutching the map, glanced at the headstone beside me to see which way to go...and it was right there. Even though I meant to find him, it was so surprising to have his grave right beside me that I started crying.
It wasn't just being sad over his death, but just how when he was killed, it was like the last of my innocence. Before that, things were difficult, but there was always something funny to remember. And after, I was sad for quite a long while. Kind of like now...I feel sad. I feel as though I'm not getting anything accomplished. I'm restless and too tired to move.
I sat there for a long time, until it started to rain. As I drove away, there was a rainbow in the valley below. Something good always happens, it just sometimes takes a while.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Two Days and Counting
I wanted to take today off, but after slowing down Friday and Saturday to restore my salt balance, I find I'm still terribly far from done.
Cathy, Barb's former neighbor and a wonderful lady, came over yesterday to assist and keep me company. While I fretted about packing the shipping boxes so that I can still lift them into the rental car, she cleared out the hallway, the bathroom and started on the kitchen before she had to leave.
I've reduced my mother's life to five and a half shipping boxes. That still seems like way too much stuff, but oh, well. Hopefully, I'll be able to heft them into the car, which I chose as it looks like its rear seats fold down. Except I have no idea how to do so :( And, of course, the car has no manual with it, so for now the rear seats are pushed as far forward as they will go.
We're still unearthing little treasures. Cathy found my mom's silver compact and lipstick case buried in with various beads and small crafting tools.
And then, there's the unsent cards. They were everywhere in the apartment, in nearly every drift of paper. OSM would regularly tell me, "I meant to send you a card..." I got so used to never getting cards from my mom that I would buy the boys gifts and mark them "from Grandma" so they wouldn't compare her unfavorably to their other grandparents. I'm Asian; I didn't want OSM to lose face.
Well, I found them. Cards meant for me and my first husband...for my boys...for my birthdays. All of them ruined by time and moisture and mold.
But it's the thought that counts.
Cathy, Barb's former neighbor and a wonderful lady, came over yesterday to assist and keep me company. While I fretted about packing the shipping boxes so that I can still lift them into the rental car, she cleared out the hallway, the bathroom and started on the kitchen before she had to leave.
I've reduced my mother's life to five and a half shipping boxes. That still seems like way too much stuff, but oh, well. Hopefully, I'll be able to heft them into the car, which I chose as it looks like its rear seats fold down. Except I have no idea how to do so :( And, of course, the car has no manual with it, so for now the rear seats are pushed as far forward as they will go.
We're still unearthing little treasures. Cathy found my mom's silver compact and lipstick case buried in with various beads and small crafting tools.
And then, there's the unsent cards. They were everywhere in the apartment, in nearly every drift of paper. OSM would regularly tell me, "I meant to send you a card..." I got so used to never getting cards from my mom that I would buy the boys gifts and mark them "from Grandma" so they wouldn't compare her unfavorably to their other grandparents. I'm Asian; I didn't want OSM to lose face.
Well, I found them. Cards meant for me and my first husband...for my boys...for my birthdays. All of them ruined by time and moisture and mold.
But it's the thought that counts.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Having a Swell Time
I've often said I only miss Hawaii for the food, but I might be getting over it. :) Everything I've eaten thus far has seemed far too salty to me, including my former favorite plate lunches. Auwe!
Yesterday was a harrowing day, Salvation Army only took half the things I have piled up. I needed to find someone to ship what little we're keeping. My mom's telephone went on the blitz. Very stressful. And add to that...it's one thing to know you're giving away your mom's stuff, to pack it and plan it, but it's quite another thing to actually see strangers hauling it away. By the time they left, I couldn't speak for being choked up.
Among the things I found while cleaning was a scrap of paper with "Nancy" written on it and a phone number. Taking a chance it would be my cousin's number, I called...and it was! I'm not very good at keeping in touch with people, so although Nancy is my favorite cousin, I haven't seen her or spoken with her since my 2001 trip to Hawaii.
We went to dinner, Nancy, her oldest brother Young Chul and I. Again, the food seemed too salty. The waitress didn't refill our iced teas until we ready to leave, so I was a bit thirsty. On the way to dropping me off, we stopped by my other cousin Susan's house, where I got to meet her husband (and their cat!). Susan commented as we left that I was the same as always, but I'd gained weight. Uh, thanks! :D
When I got back to Tom's condo, I realized my legs were completely swollen from knee to toe, a condition known as peripheral edema (see, having worked in medical insurance for so many years has its benefits as I knew immediately what the hell was wrong), probably brought on by too much salty food. Great. Terrific. I have so much to do in the next four days, and I'm supposed to spend most of that time with my legs elevated.
I'm hoping for the best today. Drinking enough water to choke a camel to flush the salts out of my system. And probably have eaten my last plate lunch for a good, long time.
Yesterday was a harrowing day, Salvation Army only took half the things I have piled up. I needed to find someone to ship what little we're keeping. My mom's telephone went on the blitz. Very stressful. And add to that...it's one thing to know you're giving away your mom's stuff, to pack it and plan it, but it's quite another thing to actually see strangers hauling it away. By the time they left, I couldn't speak for being choked up.
Among the things I found while cleaning was a scrap of paper with "Nancy" written on it and a phone number. Taking a chance it would be my cousin's number, I called...and it was! I'm not very good at keeping in touch with people, so although Nancy is my favorite cousin, I haven't seen her or spoken with her since my 2001 trip to Hawaii.
We went to dinner, Nancy, her oldest brother Young Chul and I. Again, the food seemed too salty. The waitress didn't refill our iced teas until we ready to leave, so I was a bit thirsty. On the way to dropping me off, we stopped by my other cousin Susan's house, where I got to meet her husband (and their cat!). Susan commented as we left that I was the same as always, but I'd gained weight. Uh, thanks! :D
When I got back to Tom's condo, I realized my legs were completely swollen from knee to toe, a condition known as peripheral edema (see, having worked in medical insurance for so many years has its benefits as I knew immediately what the hell was wrong), probably brought on by too much salty food. Great. Terrific. I have so much to do in the next four days, and I'm supposed to spend most of that time with my legs elevated.
I'm hoping for the best today. Drinking enough water to choke a camel to flush the salts out of my system. And probably have eaten my last plate lunch for a good, long time.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
History is written by...
...the cleaners. :(
Our sainted mother has been hiding things for quite a while. It might have begun back in the day when she caught one of our babysitters stealing from her. Who knows? In any case, one reason this clearing is so exhausting is that I can't just pile up the boxes that are already closed and mark them as good to go. OSM may have hidden treasures in a box that appears to be filled with only yarn.
Into the fray I go, unpacking and repacking everything. Mind you, it would just be the easiest thing ever to simply hand over everything as-is to Salvation Army (who are coming with a truck on Thursday). But I wouldn't feel right about it. After all, this is my mother's history I'm dealing with, and after having sent her off without much chance of a say-so, I feel obliged to bring her back some of her trinkets and mementoes.
There's too much of it to bring back, though, without getting expensive. I've whittled down most of the items, but I still have an overflowing pile to deal with before the truck comes to haul things away.
On the bright side, I hope to put these things into a corner somewhere so that I can mull them over after Salvation Army has left. I'm renting a car for the last few days I'm here to enable me to drop things off at a donation station.
The editing process means that I hold the keys to OSM's memories in my hands. She'd already begun giving some of her things away (including, it seems, her sewing school graduation sampler, which I had been hoping to find), which has somewhat lessened the amount of choices I have to make. But I keep turning up things that make me wonder, would she really miss this item if I don't send it to California? And how on earth can I get a lacquer stand and vase back without it costing a fortune?
Barb's former slave Luke is coming over tomorrow to heft down some boxes for me. I think he was alarmed by my phone message yesterday ("Luke, I need a man..."). Just as I was tapping a text to Barb to ask her about him, her other former slave Mahea called to see how I'm doing, and she handed the phone to Luke. Bwahahahaha!
My physical needs will be taken care of, and I can go back to pondering the piles of history.
Our sainted mother has been hiding things for quite a while. It might have begun back in the day when she caught one of our babysitters stealing from her. Who knows? In any case, one reason this clearing is so exhausting is that I can't just pile up the boxes that are already closed and mark them as good to go. OSM may have hidden treasures in a box that appears to be filled with only yarn.
Into the fray I go, unpacking and repacking everything. Mind you, it would just be the easiest thing ever to simply hand over everything as-is to Salvation Army (who are coming with a truck on Thursday). But I wouldn't feel right about it. After all, this is my mother's history I'm dealing with, and after having sent her off without much chance of a say-so, I feel obliged to bring her back some of her trinkets and mementoes.
There's too much of it to bring back, though, without getting expensive. I've whittled down most of the items, but I still have an overflowing pile to deal with before the truck comes to haul things away.
On the bright side, I hope to put these things into a corner somewhere so that I can mull them over after Salvation Army has left. I'm renting a car for the last few days I'm here to enable me to drop things off at a donation station.
The editing process means that I hold the keys to OSM's memories in my hands. She'd already begun giving some of her things away (including, it seems, her sewing school graduation sampler, which I had been hoping to find), which has somewhat lessened the amount of choices I have to make. But I keep turning up things that make me wonder, would she really miss this item if I don't send it to California? And how on earth can I get a lacquer stand and vase back without it costing a fortune?
Barb's former slave Luke is coming over tomorrow to heft down some boxes for me. I think he was alarmed by my phone message yesterday ("Luke, I need a man..."). Just as I was tapping a text to Barb to ask her about him, her other former slave Mahea called to see how I'm doing, and she handed the phone to Luke. Bwahahahaha!
My physical needs will be taken care of, and I can go back to pondering the piles of history.
Friday, June 01, 2007
History and Hysteria
Today's title brought to you as homage to Blackadder III.
Our sainted mother (OSM) leaves tomorrow morning. I spent the day packing up some clothes, one of her ancient photo albums (the front is embroidered with the words "One Touch," which my sister and I said meant that "one touch, and all the photos fall out.") and some of her favorite food items.
We had lunch with one of my mom's friends, Auntie Eva. Not a relative, but one of those venerable ladies that have seen my mom through some tough times in her life. I took them both to lunch, and Auntie Eva caught me up on the doings of all her family, her grandkids and their kids. Hokey smokes, Bullwinkle, this woman practically needs an entire phonebook to track her relatives! She's generous, warm and funny, and is one of my favorite aunties (not the least reason is that when she used to visit us, she'd bring us a box of pastries because she knew mom couldn't afford them...and even today, she brought us a box of mochi and a goodie bag of local treats for me...this woman is a saint in her own right).
My mother is a manipulative woman; I get my tendencies thusward from her. She convinced Auntie Eva to drive us to the doctor (whose receptionist, upon learning that OSM is leaving the state, hit me up for the balance on OSM's account...and they only take cash, which I unfortunately happened to have enough of on me), to lunch and then to the pharmacy to pick up her prescriptions.
I looked over all of OSM's treasures and trash, trying to decide what's got to go with her tomorrow and what can be discarded forever. I wish I'd brought my digital camera so I could at least eBay some of her things to get some money for her. But alas, it's all going to go to some lucky Goodwill shopper.
Is it really only 18:20 here? It feels like the longest day ever. I'm already tired of looking at all those boxes and piles in OSM's apartment. She keeps telling everyone she's going to come back, and I've been going around after her explaining that no, she's not. Everyone's already told her she should go. I hope she goes along docilely tomorrow morning and doesn't disappear between flights.
Our sainted mother (OSM) leaves tomorrow morning. I spent the day packing up some clothes, one of her ancient photo albums (the front is embroidered with the words "One Touch," which my sister and I said meant that "one touch, and all the photos fall out.") and some of her favorite food items.
We had lunch with one of my mom's friends, Auntie Eva. Not a relative, but one of those venerable ladies that have seen my mom through some tough times in her life. I took them both to lunch, and Auntie Eva caught me up on the doings of all her family, her grandkids and their kids. Hokey smokes, Bullwinkle, this woman practically needs an entire phonebook to track her relatives! She's generous, warm and funny, and is one of my favorite aunties (not the least reason is that when she used to visit us, she'd bring us a box of pastries because she knew mom couldn't afford them...and even today, she brought us a box of mochi and a goodie bag of local treats for me...this woman is a saint in her own right).
My mother is a manipulative woman; I get my tendencies thusward from her. She convinced Auntie Eva to drive us to the doctor (whose receptionist, upon learning that OSM is leaving the state, hit me up for the balance on OSM's account...and they only take cash, which I unfortunately happened to have enough of on me), to lunch and then to the pharmacy to pick up her prescriptions.
I looked over all of OSM's treasures and trash, trying to decide what's got to go with her tomorrow and what can be discarded forever. I wish I'd brought my digital camera so I could at least eBay some of her things to get some money for her. But alas, it's all going to go to some lucky Goodwill shopper.
Is it really only 18:20 here? It feels like the longest day ever. I'm already tired of looking at all those boxes and piles in OSM's apartment. She keeps telling everyone she's going to come back, and I've been going around after her explaining that no, she's not. Everyone's already told her she should go. I hope she goes along docilely tomorrow morning and doesn't disappear between flights.
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