R-E-S-P-E-C-T

R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Go, Aretha.

That's what I need: more self-respect. So what if over the last 33 hours:

• Dad went to the ER again--for blood in his urine, second time in a week--and that meant I went to the ER, too, and had to lobby for a Depends change [he wanted me to give the nurse play-by-play details], a turkey sandwich, apple juice and a straw, all the while listening to a young man in the cubicle across the hall cursing and acting so forceful that security had to be called.
• Punch came to visit and turned off all the circuit breakers in our condo when we had company, and we were in the dark due to a glitch getting them back on. I was not a good mother model at that point, I'm ashamed to say. I was a monster model, especially since she then moved on to attempted dismantling of a cell phone and near unraveling of precious decades-old family tapes. I love her, but she was driving me crazy. I was so mad. Not proud of that now, that's for sure.*
• I went to a memorial service in honor of a young woman of 25, a lovely only child who died mysteriously in her apartment last month. Amanda grew up in a house up the block and was very kind to Figgy when the little one was selling Girl Scout cookies.....her mom even invited us over to see Amanda go to the senior prom with her date, which Figgy and a small friend and I did one sunny Friday evening. She looked beautiful. She was also an excellent student, and her parents were so proud of her. I met her mom on the bus commuting to NYC. She used to tell me all about Amanda. Sometimes, life--or fate, or destiny, or whatever the word is--is just flat out ugly. Hideous, sharp-edged and painful. Unthinkable. Hey, whoever is pulling the strings up there--we humans are not unsinkable. Are you trying to torture Amanda's parents? I pray they can summon up the fortitude and grace to weather this.

Still and all, I have to find a way to retain my self-respect. Not the opposite, the complete disregard of keeping myself healthy so I can live a full life. Marshmallows and melted chocolate don't do that. When life is rough, even gigantic, billowy Mr. Stay Puft can't cushion your fall. Sad but true.

But I give myself a big pat on the back today. I had to miss boot camp because of logistics with driving Punch back home [drat, I hate missing BC], so I took a good long walk with the furball among the crunchy, falling leaves at Mills Reservation instead.

Gold star for that. Good night.

*But wait--it occurred to me today that maybe part of my problem is expecting myself to be perfect. I can't be perfect. And when I am imperfect, it doesn't help to bury the feelings of inadequacy in layers of food.