America, My Mom, and My Memories (Blog #586)

This morning I got up early, like at seven, because my mom had a thing at the hospital. And whereas I’d planned to make breakfast then leave with my parents, I decided to vote instead. That’s right, America–I VOTED–instead of eating. You’re welcome.

In all honesty, I skipped breakfast because Dad said we could eat Chick-fil-A later. (Yes, I’m a gay man who eats at Chick-fil-A–it’s delicious!–get over it.) Plus, since I wanted to vote SOMETIME today, this morning’s situation worked out perfectly. I was there just after the polls opened in Van Buren, in and out in thirty minutes, and back at the house on time to pick up Mom and Dad. From there, we picked up my aunt, and the four of us were at the hospital about 8:30.

Over a year ago, my mom was diagnosed with cancer, and this last January she had a double mastectomy. Things are better now, over really, and today she had surgery to have her port (where they administered the chemotherapy) removed. Anyway, everything went great. The prep, surgery, and recovery all happened in about four hours, during which time my dad, aunt, and I visited with each other, read our respective books, and harassed total strangers in the waiting room. Well, Dad harassed total strangers in the waiting room. It’s sort of his thing.

Like, he asked Mom’s hot doctor, “Can I just leave her here with you?” Then after he wrangled the guy into looking at my aunt’s scratched/infected forearm and the guy left, my dad said, “I was TRYING to keep him over here because you’re single and he’s rich and good looking.” My mouth dropped open just as my aunt said, “Don’t you think he’s good looking, Marcus?” (So she was in on it too.)

This is the price you pay for talking to your family about your private life.

Since Mom felt all right after her surgery (they used a mild anesthetic, apparently), afterwards we ran a couple errands and went out for Mexican food. Then we came home, and because I’d spent the morning exhausted from being up early, I went straight to bed and took a nap.

And no, I did not dream of the hot doctor. (He’s married–to a woman–and I have boundaries.)

This evening as Mom and Dad watched the election results, I worked more on my photo-organizing project. Specifically, I sorted the rest of my summer camp photos into years, then placed several “strays,” about two dozen physical photos that I’ve managed to collect over the last couple years. (Everything is digital these days.) Here’s where I’m at so far–four full storage bins of photos and one full storage bin of negatives and index cards (cards with miniature versions of the photos on the negatives). The minimalist in me thinks this is a lot of photos, but overall I’m thrilled because I had eight full storage bins of photos and negatives before this project started.

Any progress is good progress.

Once everything was sorted into large-ish groups, I arranged my index cards by date (some of them, but not all, have dates on them) so I could get an idea of WHEN all these memories actually took place. I’m hoping this will help me formulate a timeline later. Like, Oh right, that summer I dyed my hair blue was the same summer I took that photography class. Or whatever. I’m not sure why this is important to me, to get all these memories organized and labeled; I just know it is. Plus, I’m not great at guessing ages–even my own–based on photos, so if I don’t do it now, it’ll be tougher later. Like tonight I had several photos of my nephew out, and I had to ask my mom and text my sister to help me decide how old he was in each one. Thankfully, they knew. Now all those are labeled. Phew.

That’s a relief.

The end.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Getting comfortable in your own skin takes time.

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Life: Perfect As It Is (Blog #271)

Praise the lord and all the saints–I’m feeling so much better. Pretty much all of my sinus junk is gone. That being said, my body is tired, probably from the storm it just came through or maybe from allergies. I haven’t figured out how to solve that problem yet. It bothers me that I do this, by the way, talk about my ailments so much, like an old person. Specifically it bothers me that I’ve vastly improved but am hyper-focused on what little bit still needs fixing. I’m sure this is the perfectionist in me. It’s not enough that things are “mostly working,” so I spend half the day thinking about how I can combine vitamins, herbal teas, and anti-histamines in order to produce a “complete” miracle.

I should probably get out of the house, do something to distract myself.

My own mother said, ‘Marc, you look pretty gay.’

Last night I took a nap and woke up to the conversation of my parents and sister and brother-in-law. Part of it centered around a new jacket my aunt bought for my mom, this winter wraparound situation that came from Walmart. When I came out of my room, my sister was wearing it and talking about how great it was. “Really warm, and they come in every color.” Well, before it was all said and done, I tried it on, and everyone was absolutely right. Both warm and cozy, it was like a blanket with pockets. It felt like wearing a dream. Still, it was distinctly feminine, and my own mother said, “Marc, you look pretty gay.”

“Good,” I said as I lifted my chin in the air. “I am pretty gay. Now pass me my martini.”

Currently I’m wearing the jacket, and I don’t know what it’s made out of, but I’m sure it was invented by NASA. I simply couldn’t be more comfortable. Well, I guess I could be more comfortable, that is if I had a pair of underwear and a pair of socks made out of this stuff. Hell, why don’t we just throw in a pair of pants while we’re wishing? Actually, I think a matching holiday outfit would be just the ticket, the perfect thing to carry me through until tank-top weather.

For the last day my older nephew has been bugging me to watch a video game tutorial with him online, something about Bugs Bunny. My impression is that this could take a while, and I keep telling him, “But I don’t even own a video game system.” With all the logic of a seven-year-old, he replies, “You can buy one.” Anyway, this became a big damn deal earlier. I had just started the blog, and he was all up in my business, not taking no for an answer. Eventually, my sister had to get involved. This sort of thing happens a lot with him–he’s really determined and has a strong will. These aren’t bad qualities to possess, of course, it just depends on what you apply them to. For example, I think it’s fine for me to push toward figuring out my health problems or getting this blog done every day, but there comes a point when I have to chill out and realize what’s beyond my immediate control. No wonder I get exhausted. You can’t push all the time and expect to never hit a wall.

You don’t need to change a thing in order to be happy.

I guess we all have our ideas about how life should go. We want to be healthier, we want to be warmer, we want to watch Bugs Bunny–whatever. Joseph Campbell says there are three basic types of mythologies or ways of looking at the world. The first type says life is suffering–let’s get enlightened and get out of here. The second type says there are two powers running around down here–good and evil–let’s increase the good and make the world a better place. The last type, however, which is actually the oldest of the three, affirms life exactly as it, with all its ups and downs, pluses and minuses, sufferings and exultations. It says life is perfect–period. This is a philosophy that’s tough to swallow, but it’s the one that makes the most sense to me, the one I’m trying to come around to, the idea that you don’t need to change a thing in order to be happy.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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We follow the mystery, never knowing what’s next.

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