JOY

As I recover from my annual knock-me-on-my-ass cold and finish thank-you notes from the holidays, I've been reflecting on the holiday season that was actually packed with lovely things...

On Christmas Eve I got to have brunch with Mami, liquor shop with my Dad, and see my original nugget, home from teaching and selling cheese in NOLA.  On Christmas my parents and I went to a really good movie, did some decorating, and opened some presents.  That evening we hung out with our second immediate family and their extended family for lots of food and gab.  Later I went to a bar two blocks away for a major high school flashback (plus more drinking legally minus making out in bathrooms).  Even later that night  I came as close to fulfilling a freshman fantasy as you can without ruining it.

The next day we had our 3rd annual party and it was a doozy.  I felt a little extra pressure to make sure it was one people talked about until next year because Megan is overseas and I wanted to make her proud, plus some lovely sisters even came down from Minny just for the occasion.  I think I succeeded; the number of people that tell me they look forward to the party more than the actual holiday supports this, as well as the number of people that slept on various surfaces around my parents house that night after playing games until 5am that are always a bad idea except for when you're drunk enough.  (We were.)

I stuck around town a few extra days to hang out with some snowed in East-Coasters, and it meant more quality time all around, especially with my parents and miniature people.  (See below.)

To top it all off, I got to go to New York for one of my besties 30th birthday party a couple of weeks later, thanks to the generosity and airline miles of a dear friend.  It was, as Tommy put it, one of the "Top 5 epic weekends".  Truly.  Complete with margaritas and whiskey all over Brooklyn, speeding cabs in the snow, making friends with Australian strangers, karaoke in more than one private room, discovering that bar time isn't until almost dawn (with the drawback that you can't get pizza in Brooklyn at almost dawn), one cousin, one favorite musician, one really Bad Kitty, some of the best friends that the universe has ever beheld, and last but certainly not least a big Packer win celebrated with a bunch of fellow cheeseheads plus my new future ex-husband who doesn't know it yet.

Some select moments that make me happy all over:

Which one is my mother?  Sometimes we can't tell:

Another Big and Mini that I love:

 

Epic Morning After brunch:

 

2nd Day of Recovery Lunch:

 

In this picture there are two of the best friends anyone could ask for (who also happen to be sisters), three glasses of wine (out of the shot), one baby whom I love, and one puffer fish bath toy:

"I will buy you beer one day...":

Rachel's favorite French beer to start NYE:

New Year's Day Roses and Champagne:

Somebody's afraid of heights...

Bad Kitty...

"And maybe be your baby tonight...":

"Maybe be my baby tonight..." from Caitlin Scanlon on Vimeo.



I sort of want to live in Tommy's video of his trip to WI:

Horray Wisconsin! from thomas schwenn on Vimeo.

Morgue

Sometimes still, after all this time, it is too much.  I sit and can't understand what happened, how he could really be gone, and how I am never going to hear his voice again.

To make it real I inevitably think of seeing his body, which is horrible.  Horrible that it was a body, that it was my brother's body, and that my mind goes there because that was the most real moment of his death.  It was a nightmare out of a poem that we stood in the morgue on Father's Day and looked at his face hovering in front of us on the closed captioned TV screen they now use for next-of-kin to identify bodies.  We knew cerebrally he was in there but before the screen flipped on I know our souls were screaming for it to be a mistake and to see some other young mans face appear.  It was Brendan, unmistakeably B with his messy curly blonde hair.  He had a bruise on his cheek, his mouth was slightly open, as were his eyes.  He didn't look asleep, as processed bodies almost do, he just looked dead.  You couldn't see the bright beautiful blue-gray color of his eyes, but they weren't cloudy or creepy.  They just weren't anything. 

I had to eventually ask the old sad man who was working alone in the morgue on Father's Day to please turn it off.  I was crying and I said something about yes it was him and what were we supposed to do and please turn it off, and I remember feeling like I had to because I was the only one not sitting on the couch in the room and I could feel my family crumbling behind me.  Later in the car my mom said she though Brendan looked like a picture of Jesus on the screen, because his hair formed this gold halo around his face.  He did.  He'd laugh at me for saying that.

I don't know what my first memory of my sister is, but I like to tell people it's the time when I was still a baby and she, a toddler, was holding me on her lap, and she leaned over as if to kiss me but instead bit my ear.  (She describes it now as if she meant to show me, her baby sister, affection, but was overcome by a wave of jealousy that somehow manifested into an ear bite.)

Megan is two years and twenty days older than me; she was born on my parents 10th wedding anniversary and I like to think many of her personality traits reflect the manner in which she was conceived:  planned, organized, calculated, logical...  (She will think I'm teasing there, but really, they are traits that I wish I carried more strongly.  Or at all.)  My growth spurt and puberty hit not long after hers did (I think because I was always trying to catch up and play with the big girls, maybe my body took a cue) and I used to make people guess who was older, and giggle with glee when they guessed me.  In reflection, I shouldn't have been surprised many years later when after a couple bottles of wine my sister mentioned casually how much she hated me in high school.  

Megan didn't go to college right away; instead, she went to South America and worked with orphans, learned Spanish, ate lots of street food, and got her first tattoo.  Then she went to college, which included a year in Africa as well as a return trip to Bolivia to research her undergraduate honors thesis, and graduated about six months before I did.  The years between then and now included two in the Peace Corps, three getting two masters degrees from an ivy-covered school in the Northeast, and lots of travel.

If Megan and I hadn't had Brendan to balance us out I think we may have actually hurt each other in middle or high school.  He was often a little shit, but he was our little shit, and we loved him more than anything, and that was often the one thing we knew we had in common.  The morning that Brendan died, and I called my sister after hanging up with my parents, knowing she already knew and dreading what we had to do, I remember holding on to the phone and listening to her sob and telling her I loved her over and over.  We knew from that moment that the only way to survive was together.  It still is, and we are, and we do.

Last Friday at 5 a.m. my parents and I put Megan on a bus to Chicago to get on a plane headed to Indonesia.  She'll be there a few months certainly, most likely a year or two, or more. She's in Jakarta now, I've gotten a text and a couple emails, and all is well.  I miss her terribly. 

Lovelies

About a year and a half ago I got to finally meet Lilly in San Francisco, through our mutual friend Tommy.  Lilly's sister Fuzzy used to live with Tommy in Brooklyn, and I met her for the first time when we were first visiting NYC last January.  Now, Lilly is living in an apartment in Loring Park with their cousin Nora, and Fuzzy lives in the Whittier neighborhood.  A few days after I moved in, we figured out we live two short blocks away from each other.

I got to be sister wives with them for Halloween, along with Chelsea.  I also get to hang out with another cousin Lyz a lot.  I met Fuzzy and Lilly's mom, she told me welcome to the clan.  It make my heart smile.

These women are some that make me happy I get to be one, happy that I live here, happy to be tall, happy to be alive.  They are, individually or as a group, incredible.  Along with my loves Katie, Kate, Lauren, Erin, Anna, and Stephanie (and a few members of the male species too) they have made this city feel like home. 

I saw this video today on Fuzzy's blog.  Hard to believe, but she's even more wonderful in real life.


working from home from Fuzzy on Vimeo.

Today Megan and I Ordered This By Accident...

 

This was the best we could do...

The Day After Tomorrow

Less than 48 hours until I'm no longer a resident of California...

My room/house looks like a hurricane came through it, but its getting better.

I'm writing this from my knees.  My computer's here on the desk that will be picked up by movers tomorrow, and my chair is elsewhere.  I'm surrounded by clothes to take, clothes to pack, and clothes to donate.  CD's to sort through.  A few boxes of journals and letters that will come with us in the car.

"Us" is my sister and me.  We're going to go see the Grand Canyon this week; neither of us ever have.  We'll see a good amount of desert too, then we'll see lovelies in KC, then we'll pull into Minneapolis about a week from today.

I keep thinking about what's the same and what's different from when I did this the last time.  Almost everything is different, but yet here I am, surrounded by items, a car still to clean and route to plan, drinking coffee, listening to a mix of sappy country and angry rap music, thinking it's a beautiful day - just like I was three years and three months ago.

I'm not alone this time.  When I left Fayetteville I was gloriously alone and all was right.  As I leave Healdsburg I have Megan, and all is right. 

I've said goodbye slowly and quietly here.  One at a time.  I won't get to see everybody I'd like to say goodbye to before I leave this time.  Last time there were parties.  A few of them.  This time, I want a conversations, a glass of wine if there's time, and hugs.  I still cry a little but I know all is well.

It is indeed a beautiful day.

June Was a Big Month...

Which should explain why I only published three blogs over the month.

I was my best friends maid of honor and shared a magical weekend with her family, mine, and a group of some of the most wonderful people on the planet.  I loved taking charge and knowing what needed to be done without her having to tell me, I loved feeling like I was really helping her marry this man, whom I love too; I loved being around all the people, I loved the ceremony of it all, I loved the kids, I loved staying up until sunrise every night with her brother who became a man and a father in the eight years since I had last seen him, I loved all the music and drinking and food, all the quotations that only those of us who were around all weekend really get ("that's what she said"), I loved my sister being such a help to me and everyone and my parents being able to celebrate with us, I loved being around my oldest and best friends for days straight, and I love being included in everything this family that invited me in 20 years ago did.

I spent about 36 hours in Virginia for a wedding that most of this country would consider invalid.  The 'best-of-times-worst-of-times' year of my life was survived because of a small group of friends, a few of whom have survived in this group we call the Jager Girls.  (Yes, that Jager.)  That year in Fayetteville we drank a lot, we fought a little, we never got arrested, and together we survived what was for most of us the most difficult year of our lives.  They are the ones that didn't ask but just showed up after Brendan died; they cooked and brought liquor (Jager, duh) and cigarettes, distraction, tissues, hugs, and so much love.
Around that time two years ago Mel was about to leave the job she had held and excelled at for most of her adult life because they said she couldn't love Dawn and still do her job.  (They are proof, by the way, that that rule is bullshit.)  Dawn and Mel live together in Virginia now and as of early June are happily (and legally, thanks to the District of Columbia) married.  I got to be there to celebrate, help with a garter, drink a lot, cry a little, laugh more than anything, and love some of my favorite women (and some of their children) in the world.

My sister spent the last three years, arguably the most difficult of her life, working on a masters degree from a very important and very expensive school.  She'd argue the ivy is bullshit but damn if it doesn't have a nice ring to it.  She finished in May.  In June (the day I came back to Madison from VA) we had a nice little party for her.  Our sister from another mister gave us the theme, my mom and I brainstormed the map as guestbook, I found Dora napkins, and we had enough sparkling goodness that Megan had a full glass the whole night.  It was lovely.

The day after Megan's party was the day before the 2-year mark of our brother dying.  This year it rained, and there were fewer people, but it was just about perfect.  There was printing and drinking and crying and laughing.  Brendan was remembered, and toasted more than once.  This sting is so much less now than it was even a year ago, yet the absence is larger than ever.  It's been that much longer since I heard him laugh, since I heard him say "HI sister...".  I have some new shirts, and Solve has many more fans.  He'll never be gone, but my life will never be whole.

A few days later, I came back to California.  I wasn't as happy as I should have been to come home, but seeing Aunt and Uncle and the dogs (who helped Uncle pick me up from the bus stop, along with a cold beer hidden under an ice pack) made it warm and loving. 

Now I am moving forward.  Spending lots of time on things that feel good and spending enough time on things that I have to.  I am making decisions and sticking to them.  I am practicing trusting myself.  I am feeling loved.  I am feeling hope.  I am so excited for what's to come.  I am 10 days in to being 29, and it's going to be a great year.

C&R left early this morning for Mexico...

In the car on the way to the airport I told them about something that happened last night that was horrible and terrifying.  It was resolved, but such a scare left me in a bit of a haze. 
A few hours later I wrote them this email:

"So,

I have the most anxious dreams last night that consist of being late to a choir concert, to my best friends wedding, not having the dress altered, not having make up on, being locked out of the hotel room and when I finally get in finding they have taped over everything in the shower to fix something.
As I'm standing in the kitchen this morning looking at the oil and vinegar next to the stove (irl) I remember that part of the dream was also that you had turned around and come home from the airport because they wouldn't let you check everything that you wanted to.  (In the dream Colleen you were defiantly telling Ridge I'll make that same stuff without all this, you won't even know the difference.)
I'm so glad you weren't actually back home.  Not because I (and the pups of course) don't want you here but because you two of all the folks in the world deserve some sun on your bods and smiles on your faces - 2 things I think you'll be able to find on that Mexican beach.

So.  After one of the weirdest (horrible) nights, feeling such darkness and desperation, albeit briefly, last night, then with those dreams, then when I finally decide to pay attention to things around me and can handle whatever might be in the roll on the coffee table, then I read your note on it Colleen, and then I cry because I don't know what else to do.  Then I unroll Brendan's painting, and it is, and it's different then I remember, but more beautiful then I could ever imagine.

I don't know what planets are shifting or passing or setting, but in a completely weird moment I am so grateful for these dogs, so grateful to be here at this place, and so grateful for you.  (In no particular order.)

I love you,
Ole!
Caitlin"

Stroll

Take a walk with me...

I go to clean out my inbox every once in a while but there are emails that I cannot archive much less delete - emails from my brother Brendan.  They remain in my inbox, the most recent one almost two years old.

I notice tags and stickers, graffiti, street art, on public property everywhere now, some ugly and poorly thought out, others well planned and well executed, real works of art.  I know that the former are probably gang tags, and the latter most likely have nothing to do with turf.  I know this because since Brendan died his friends, many of whom put art on the streets, have done what they can to educate me about the difference.

Sometimes in the morning I eat oatmeal.  Brendan went through a phase when he was small where he would eat instant oatmeal for breakfast everyday, and after one St. Patrick's Day when Dad added green food dye to his bowl, I don't think he ever ate an oatmeal colored bowl again.

Brendan was born on the 20th day of a month.  He died on the 14th day of a different month.  Every month has a 20th and a 14th.  Every so often, a Friday falls on the 13th day of a month.  The last full day Brendan was alive was a Friday the 13th.

I spend a couple days a week standing behind a table at a farmers market and I get to see lots of people, lots of families walk by.  There are some boys that have very blonde curly hair.  That's what Brendan looked like when he was a child.

Sometimes in a conversation it is relevant for someone to bring up their siblings.  Many other women have younger brothers.  Brendan was my younger brother. 

Most of us every day will deal with font and typeface.  Most of us don't know the difference.  I found out from his graphic design colleagues that people using those terms interchangeably was a huge pet peeve for Brendan.  I also found out that he "didn't do bullet points" in presentations.  I use bullet points.  Since he died, I question whether I really need to.

Do not hesitate in conversation with me out of fear of reminding me of Brendan or that he died - I would rather you say something that could sound insensitive and have it in front of us than see your pause and the flicker of worry behind your eyes. I need no reminder; my brother, and his absence, are always present.  Better you share in it with me than keep yourself at arms length from my honesty - it is much warmer here walking closer to me.

Great Advice

"No ONE, I repeat, No ONE ever gives you the message that your 20s are going to be hard, do they? It's a vital message that I missed or was too cheeky to hear until suddenly I found myself in the throes of it and was, like, "shit this is really hard." 20s = tough times. Just climb your way, tool and nail, up to 30 and then have a drink."

I really hope she doesn't mind me quoting her again.  After a rough patch and a brief exchange of messages, I found this in my inbox, and it was like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Favorite Things

Since I have been really preoccupied lately, I haven't been writing much and what I have posted seemed (at least to one) "a bit morose".
In the spirit of spring, and to assuage any concerns about my state of mind, here is a list of things that make me really happy, particularly so in the last week:
*Note:  This is by no means a complete list, but rather a highlight of current goodies.

- Della Fattoria, aka the best bakery in the world, and all the folks associated with it.  I get to be next to Mr. Edmund, aka Poppa, one day of the week at a farmers market, and it is a true joy.

- Sitting by the fireplace long enough to feel the cold leave my perpetually chilly fingers, feet, and rear end.

- Bourbon.  Maker's Mark and I have been really tight lately, but my cousin Phil and adopted cousin Ritchie are going to introduce me to Bulleit next week.  (I think that was the one anyway.)

- The fact that I have a disproportionately smart and creative family (see above and below), and that we number so many that I keep being pleasantly surprised by "discovering" wonderful things they do.  This week?  Baby cousin Katy's visit to the farm, conspiring and shopping, watching her sew with Colleen, and talking about her blog.  (Baby girl's got chops, y'all.)

- Red Wine.  My uncle always tells the story when somebody asks "Red or White?" of Sophia Loren responding to that question by saying (with the delivery I imagine only Sophia Loren can do), "Darling... Wine Is Red." 

- My sister.  One day we'll live close enough to walk to the bar on the corner and get drunk on a Tuesday for no good reason. 

- I live in one of the best areas of the world for really good food.  Be it something straight from the market, or at one of the multitudes of amazing restaurants within a couple hours of me, I love to eat.  One of the worlds few pure pleasures.  Love it.

- Playing with puppies.  Our puppies, cousin puppies, or friend puppies; spending hours running around trails or after dinner rolling on the living room floor in a pile of puppy pulchritude; all of these are good for the soul.

- Being able to stop what I'm doing, turn my face up, and feel the warmth of the sun.

This week has reminded more than usual that it's not really the paths we take that matter as much as who accompanies us on the journey.  I sent some messages to people last weekend on the occasion of Brendan's birthday to tell them how much they mattered to me, and the responses I received were beautiful and touching and a little overwhelming.  What right have I to feel lonely with such incredible people in my life?
I am so grateful.

Scatterbrained

My mind is all over the place this week...

Americans who tried to take Haitian children across the border to a Dominican orphanage have been charged with abduction.  The whole story is creepy to me, especially that they keep saying they were just trying to do God's work, and that they're looking to God for a positive outcome.

I had weekends off last month and I've been using the time to get caught up with friends, take care of loose ends that have been dangling for months, and just cavorting and sin in general.  There's been a lot of eating, drinking, laughing.  It has felt really good, but as I start to get a little more focused and sober some of the questions I was dealing with before are coming back in even higher relief and with more urgency...
How can I trust my emotions?
How can I trust anybody else?
Where do I want to be?
What do I want to do?
How many rules will my moral compass allow me to break?
How much discreetness before it becomes secrecy, and how much secrecy before it becomes lying?

Oscar nominations were announced, and ever since I was a kid I've been a sucker for the Academy Awards.  I get excited for the nominations, and then I feel all this pressure to see movies before the awards.  I never see all the ones I want, yet I never let myself off the hook.  It's not even fun, yet I do it year after year.  Maybe it's residual Irish/German/Catholic guilt leftover from my parents generation.  The same guilt that gets me when I'm late in Thank-You notes, when I don't call my parents back, when I think about my messy room...

We got ducks last week.  A neighbor winery was diverging of it's assets, and Colleen said we'd take the ducks.  She and I hopped in the Element with some boxes and came back six ducks and a bunch of duck poop heavier.  They are massive - I was worried about them in with the chickens but they're about as big as the rooster so not so worried anymore.  Today's the first day they're waddling around outside the pen.  At first I felt a little emotional about them, they've got such cute quacks, but now I'm totally ok with the foie gras and confit that is to come.

I have learned some intimate things in the past month about myself, and about some others in my life, all whom I consider to be at the very least close friends.  It has been entertaining, and educational, and a little emotional.  (Hey look at that!  Three E's.)   I wish I could share more but I can't until I get it all a little bit more sorted out in my own head.  Lesson - keep yourself open to learning from those that you think you know already.  The universe has surprises for all of us, and some of them are bound to be good.

Pizza, Brooklyn, and Jameson Oh My! (or Goodbye NY: My East Coast excursion comes to a close, NY Winter Adventure pt. 6)

Wednesday was my last day in the hood, and rather than push it just to make sure we fit in a museum while I was there, we relaxed and walked a lot and talked a lot and made it one helluva last day.

We had pizza, which Megan was insistent on (after our food tour and not doing pizza OR hot dogs she still felt she hadn't fulfilled her New York hosting duties).  It was good.  I shamefully could not finish my piece.  I knew we were going to a pot luck within a few hours and I didn't want to shame myself again in front of more than Megan by not eating there.

We went to visit an adorable new deli and specialty shop that we sell some oil and vinegar to, to check it out, meet the chefs, and buy some goodies for the aforementioned pot luck.  Torrisi Italian Specialties is warm, inviting, adorable, and has salami in the window.  If you find yourself with access to Mulberry and Prince in Nolita you must go, and eat something.  Anything.  It's delicious.

After a hit of shopping in Soho we hit the subway and landed in Brooklyn.  We had a couple beers with Kryn, who grew up across the park from us in Madison and I hadn't seen in too many years, and then headed to Tommy, Hannah, and Jen's for what would be one unexpectedly boozy pot luck welcoming Fuzzy back for a visit.

(A little background - Tommy's been one of my best friends since we met in the dorms the first week our freshman year in college.  He's a master of friend mashing - as in, so many people have met because/through him we could start a cult.  How many people I have specifically because of him is a blog for another time, but I will say that good people tend to attract good people, this rule applies to Tommy, and Tommy's one of the best.)

It was a fantastic night.  There was a scrumptious spread of a ton of cheese, some Torrisi goodies, taco dip, polenta somethings, wine, and lots oh lots of Jameson which we started enjoying with Hannah's hot toddy concoction, and then went on the rocks after we ran out.  Needless to say the night got progressively more fuzzy, but some of the topics we covered:
Jersey Shore
Felatio
Blogs before blogging was the thing
Frat boys
Freshman slutties
Jersey Shore
Man stank v. stank
Man stank in contrast to weed smell
Smoking
Titanic (the movie not the boat)
Jersey Shore
Madison High School Girls Swimming 1992-2007
Advertising
Reese Witherspoon's high level of bitchiness

Scary baby dancing:

Still life of whiskey and Tommy's face:

Middle School Dancing!

Megan and I got home late and got very little sleep before we got up to get me to the airport in the morning.  I was exhausted for days, but it was beyond worth it.  The trip was fabulous.  I would not have changed a thing, other than to have more time.  I can't wait to go back.