Chapter 44

It’s a quiet and cold morning at my office. It’s the day after the Super Bowl, and I had an 8:30 meeting. (It was easy.) I’m wearing a beautiful wool turtleneck that I bought for Rolf many years ago, so I’m cozily warm; even though I’d rather be wrapped in down, drinking hot chocolate on the couch in our sun-room.

Well, I’m “two-score and four” now. Two score and four. I had a birthday card from a 92 year old bachelor acquaintance that said “My calendar shows that you are approaching your two score and four birthday . . . ” So, I’ve been saying I’m "two score and four" everywhere I’ve been for the last week. Actually, thankfully, it was a quiet week – except that:

• my sister got married,
  
• I had a meeting to discuss the props for You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown,
• and I took last Monday off as a pajama birthday holiday,
• and Puck came over for dinner too,
• Rolf and I saw The Queen at the movies,
• and got rug burns and discovered how sticky vanilla syrup can be as we lay fireside.

It felt quiet because I had been having an extravagance of theatre. In January alone, I saw: Emily Skinner in concert, Into the Woods preview, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf? With Kathleen Turner and Bill Irwin, The Magic Flute (Live from the Met), Footloose, Noises Off! (with my entire family), Macbeth (an avant-garde dance macabre production that was among the wildest and most wonderful things I’ve ever seen,) and then I saw Into the Woods again on my two score and four birthday. Plus three parties and a day spent demolishing the kitchen and bathroom of the Richmond project . . .

It has been wild!

_________

So, as I look at this as the beginning of Chapter 44 of my life – I thought I’d recap:

Mama is doing fine. The doctors finally admitted that the Chemotherapy wasn’t having much effect, although they said that it did shrink the tumor on her spine, it wasn’t useful in treating the tumors on her liver. So they say the tumor on her spine is “contained”, and the lesions on her liver are so slow growing that there isn’t a need for further treatment right now. The type of cancer is Cardinoid, and it is called “The Slow Cancer”, so that is good, but we just have to wait and see. It is so wonderful not to have her be sick from the chemotherapy. Oh, the stress and anguish that caused. It was awful.

Daddy is getting some medical care now. He’s 76, and wobbly. He’s stubborn about going to the doctors, but he had to go in and have a check up with his heart specialist during which he fell down. He was getting off the examination table, trying to put his shirt back on while talking to the doctor when he stumbled and fell. The doctor was alarmed and asked how long this had been going on; and when Daddy told him it had been going on for a couple of years the doctor started yelling at him about being irresponsible, and had his nurse come in and set Daddy up with the specialists he needs to get help.

My sister, Joy, did get married last week. I had met her fiancee twice. I wish the women in my family would pick attractive men with college degrees, so I’d have something nice to look at and someone interesting to talk to. But it is not to be. Her son, Russ, is also getting married (in March) She had intended to wait until after that to get married. They’d even planned and paid for their honeymoon in May. But, over last weekend she decided that she just wanted to be married, and that was that. So at 5:15 last Thursday, she, dressed in a red dress, and he, in an ill-fitted suit, with both family’s standing as groomsmen and bridesmaids (except for one of his sons and Rolf,) in the cavernous cold sanctuary; they were married in a quick ten-minute no-music no-flowers ceremony. It was awkward and anticlimactic, but he did vow to honor her above all others, and she is so very happy.

Shannon and BC, my niece and her husband. Well, rumor has it, that she hopes to get pregnant this summer. When my sister told me that Shannon was planning on starting a family this summer, I responded with mock horror “With Who!” And she hit me.

Oh well. They live in an apartment in my folks’ basement. It’s pretty nice. I must say, that I was embarrassed at the number of Christmas presents she gave me this year, but delighted at how wonderful they were.

Russ and Officer Cupcake are getting married, and moving in together, but not in that order. They’re moving into an apartment together in a couple of weeks, but they’ll be trying to keep that a secret from her parents until the wedding. His dad, my former brother-in-law, is expected to be at the wedding in March with his new wife. And I am terrified that they’ll both be drunk and drugged out by the end of the evening.

My Friends

Puck and Memae have a new house in the Petworth area of DC. Puck is scaring me because she’s become obsessed with hating her job, and when she hates her job she quits. She’s got an enviable job history – it’s pages and pages long, but I still admire people who get out of hateful jobs, even if that means they end up unemployed more often than not, and have to work full-time into their 70’s, while I might have a chance at retiring at 55.

Tomas and Bemmy – Well, I don’t see much of them anymore.

I don’t know if Tomas got disability because of his eyesight and other health problems. And he may be disgusted by my drunkenness, which can be alarming at times. But I feel like he doesn't have much interest in me, and I don't know if that's just because he's on such hard times or what. He is on very hard times. I bringing my friend Lita up to date on the saga a couple of weeks ago, and I broke into tears in the telling.

And I hate to lose friends, but I think Bemmy has been a rotten friend to me and really taken great advantage of me over the years. Since it seems that he doesn’t want to be a part of my life, I think I’m just going to agree and make that permanent, because he really does disgust me. Did I tell you that he called a few weeks ago? Yes, from the side of the highway, while a policeman listened in, because his drivers license had been suspended back when his car was impounded for not paying his personal property taxes. And who does he call then? Me. I hadn't heard from him for weeks and weeks before, and I haven't heard from him since.

Me and Rolf

Well, we made it 25 years. I really can’t believe it. It is terribly difficult for Rolf to deal with my ongoing depression, which has been awfully bad for several years now. I am obsessed with how worthless and stupid I am, and often will wish I was dead hundreds of times in an hour. Yet even so, I am backing away from my anti-depressant as I think it is why I often feel so easily winded. So, I’ve been on it for over a year and a half, and it is just not working. Of course I am drinking the equivalent of a bottle and a half of wine each night – and that’s a depressant itself. But, I’m going to get off it and try something else.

My job just keeps going and going. I thought it was going to end last March, but first we lost the contract, then we sued and prevailed. . . then someone else sued and they prevailed. . . and so the whole contract is just going up for bid again. Well, maybe there's time for me to get this whole thing cleaned up before anybody looks too close. I really don't think I could survive an audit.

And, back to me and Rolf. . . we're fat. We're fat, and we're renting a beach house at Rehoboth with a whole bunch of skinny bitches.

And we're just a little scared.

The house is wonderful. d'Ohgy is adorable. We'll probably lose our shirts in this real estate deal in Richmond - but all in all - it's a good life.

All the best,
Vig