Are you spanking a ton of men and other relatable offenses

This past weekend, while in Vegas, it occurred to me as my face was pressed to the cold glass of the window staring into the Heart Attack Grill, that me and the betrothed will never be on the same page when it comes to food, physical activity, and music. While he was busy studying the zip line above Fremont St., I channeled EVERY PHOTOGRAPHER THAT EVER LIVED and took pictures of total strangers enjoying their 100% pure butterfat shakes as if my life depended on it.  

Hi people. I see you. Hey, don't call me creepy.

So me and Nate are really different - and that’s ok - because diversity is good in the workplace (hey, don’t tell me that marriage isn’t work). I provide a fresh perspective on all matters related to napping and deliciousness, and he likes to share his knowledge and experience in the areas of working out and avoiding “bad carbs” (blasphemy). We couldn’t be more different in this regard, but we do always manage to meet somewhere in the middle between “That donut isn’t good for you” and “Are you crazy? Don’t tell me what to do.” 

It’s like a clash of the titans!

We’ve been together for quite some time though, so something’s working.

Anyway, we were on a planned trip to Vegas visiting family, which happened to fall on the same weekend as our 20-year high school reunion. I was so sad to miss this event, especially since high school played such a huge part in our life/love story. It’s where it all began. Man, how is it that 20 years have gone by though? How am I two short steps away from 40 when grade school seems like just yesterday? Oh, time – you tricky bitch.

Must one go to school to become a latte artiste?

Looking back, it’s hard to believe I was once a girl who was SO afraid to eat an In-N-Out double-double in front of him that I threw that piece of heaven in the trash on our first outing.  What a crock of doo-doo. I don’t even remember when all that dainty-like stuff stopped and my true self emerged, but I’ve gone on to consume thousands of burgers in his presence since then, and he’s never once said that this isn’t what he signed up for.  Likewise, I still accept him even though I had no way of knowing that a burning flame of love for pure Mexican music  would grow and become the playlist for every road trip we'd ever go on. With a solid defense of “Would you rather drive?” whenever I try changing the station, I am kept in my place.   Yet, for all of our differences, we work. For all the times I've made him drive us home from hours away just so I could relieve myself in the comfort and privacy of my own bathroom, or forced him to take the fall for an inopportune fart, he’s stood by my side.

He sure loves these guys. No offense, but I prefer a little Motownphilly myself, thank you very much

Nate’s asked me on a few occasions if I have any regrets about us, or if I would go back and change anything along the way. I don’t like this line of questioning because the universe does not allow such a luxury. It’s torturous with our circumstances. OF COURSE there are things I wish I could change – I’d give anything, do anything, say anything to have Ligaya here alive and well and eating burgers with us. I would trade places if I could. But since death remains immutable, I would not change the course of our river – not one moment in the history of us - because each and every experience at their precise times along our walk together led us to the point of her creation, existence, and now memory.

My most favorite picture of us

 

So, sure, we're different, but we do work.  It’s often messy, but that's us. What's cool is that I can even read his mind and say what he’s thinking at the exact time he’s saying it out loud! Ok, not really, but I like to pretend just to freak him out. It’s an easy trick - I just mumble and make up words at the same time he’s talking:

Nate: I was in this meeting today and we were discussing the financial impact of...

Me: …meeting today discus throwing finances impassse dog

Nate: Are you speaking in tongues again?

Me: Are you spanking a ton of men?

Nate: Stop it. That’s really...

Me: awesome?

See, we complete each other. Ok, so maybe we don’t finish each other’s sentences, exactly,  but there was this one time in the car, during a blessed moment of radio silence,  when we suddenly burst out singing the same line of the same song that was silently playing in our heads. Just like that. I honestly can’t remember what song it was, but I remember the moment, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.

 Viva la Mexico!

I'm 38 and 13 all at the same time. But who's counting?

38. What in the hell? It feels like just yesterday that I was crying into a cupcake (or five) after the clock struck midnight and ding-dong ditched a flaming bag of caca on the doorstep of my 20’s.

 

Welcome to 30, Sucka!!! It stinks!

 

This past decade has gone by so fast. Remember how, back in the olden days, the school year seemed to drag on and on until summer vacation decided to finally roll up like a lazy pimp? Man, two months of blessed relief from homework, no more drama of the “Oh my God, am I wearing the right socks today?!  KILL ME NOW they’re not navy blue” variety (I miss you, SJB), and a brief hiatus from destroying the ozone layer with multiple cans of Aquanet.  

Holes in the ozone layer, oh no.

 

I miss those days. Long road trips across the good ol’ US of A with my family, seeing lightning strike throughout the rolling plains the way the hand of God should across a Kardashian’s face (hang on, this was pre-Kardashian, but you know what I mean),  fighting in the backseat with my brothers over who stunk more, memorizing every  Beatles song along the way, coming home to watch a crapload of TV, having my biggest decision be which book to read for the day, and establishing pro-level skills at Sonic the Hedgehog.

In this game, I WAS the lord of the rings



 

Sweet freedom and innocence!  A much different world than I know now. Why’d I have to become a grown-up? Where did the time go?  Can I get a redo? How about a refund?

Time. I really haven't been a good keeper of it since losing Ligaya on October 14, 2012. “Calendar” is just a word now, a moving target, a thing on my iPhone I can’t figure out since updating to the latest iOS. Please don’t ask me what the date is or even the day, because chances are, it will take me awhile  to calculate where we are based on when the last holiday or National Anthem appearance was.

 

Friday, August 8, 2014 - Anthem for the Angels vs. Red Sox game

I’ve said this before, but in those first few days after losing Ligaya, all I wanted to do was move as far away from that pain as possible. It hurt so much. So damn much. It still does, but in different ways. People ask if I still have bad days – absolutely! But the “ok” days do outnumber the bad ones, and the focus has shifted from reliving the trauma of the experience over and over again in my mind, to now wondering what she would be like at almost 2 years old had she made it. This blog would probably be about the many ways a toddler can enrich your life and have you looking like a budding alopecia patient instead of just being a rush of words tumbling from a mind addled with weight loss promises and bursts of anger against my fellow man (not just Nate). 

 

Though she is always with me in spirit, these days I feel Ligaya’s absence most when I see her face in every baby or small child I come across. This is the change - the difference and degree in levels of pain just depends on the moment.

And that’s what life has become - a continuous, crooked line of moments, movement, and decision making. Moments of sadness, joy, hope, despair, stillness, silence, activity, reflection, denial, and acceptance. Moving forward, but not on, for I could never leave her behind. Decisions on when to start again, if we should start again, if we should just pack up and become wanderers of the land like that Ralph Lauren designer who lives out of a bus and surfs all day (come on now though, how much money do you already need to have to attempt something that? Incidentally, Nate would love this plan if he wasn’t so obsessed with paying bills and being responsible all the time).

 

I could totally live here! Goodbye, everyone!

 

38. In the week leading up to my birthday, we had a very important decision to make and it made us realize how far we’ve come in the healing process, how far we have yet to go, and what we truly want. I called upon my daughter’s light to help guide our way, and as usual, she gave us a sign that we made the right choice in the end.

A hummingbird at the LA Public Library

 

Our Little Bird has left us many gifts, one of which is clarity and the ability to make tough life decisions with forgiveness and without regret (life decisions – not food decisions, mind you). For a long time after the loss, it was about self-preservation, but I have reached an understanding that some decisions are much bigger than just taking into account my “self”.

I feel a change coming. A good one.  It’s in the air and my intuition is usually spot-on. In the past two years I have learned to trust my gut.  I have learned to tell the difference between being crippled by fear and simply pausing to listen to the inner voice that steers me away from harm.  I know I am far from wise, but our loss has taught me more about life than I had ever hoped to know.

Hello, treinta y ocho. Vamanos.

 

 Love, Light, and Ligaya - CS