Happy Birthday Mommy

Today would have been my mother’s 94th birthday. Her side of the family has had many long-lived folks, so it wasn’t unreasonable for me to assume that she would have been one of them. But she only made it to 76, passing on April 13, 2008, less than two months shy of her 77th birthday. I remember the day of her pan-can diagnosis (December 5, 2007) and how I cried so hard I could barely see to drive home.

Sometimes I forget to think about my losses (Mom and Dad and Gatsby). Other times they crash over me and feel fresh and raw, as though they just happened today. To be honest, I loved my father, but I don’t miss him that much. I miss my mother terribly though, and of course I am still crying over my little buddy, since it’s only been a few weeks. My daughter sends me pics of adorable kitties at the shelter where she volunteers, and I would love any of them, but it’s too soon. I want to feel that magical connection, but I need more distance (temporally) before that can happen.

On the upside, I never cry over any lost/failed romances these days. Not sure what happened there, but whatever craziness used to compel me to pursue relationships of that kind has completely disappeared. In fact, when my friends talk about dating, etc., I am detached from any desire. I used to feel so lonely, which is what motivated me to keep searching, against all odds of ever finding what I needed, especially via online dating. Nowadays I wouldn’t want to start anything even if I met someone; the idea of a relationship is too emotionally exhausting.

That guy I dated in 2016 who kept pestering me via text for months afterwards to dispense new criticisms has vanished once again. If you recall, he emailed months ago to bitch that I closed my Wordpress blog. I never gave him the address to this Blogger one, and idk if you can get to it via googling. Though it’s public, I checked off all boxes about not indexing it and whatever. I no longer have any delusions that some publisher or dream man will find me via my writing and prefer to stay on the downlow. It’s interesting that Mr. 2016 contacts me only when he has something to complain about, isn’t it?

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I haven’t been gobbling up books as fast as I used to; I guess I’m too sad to focus. Since my last post, I’ve read only one: Menfreya in the Morning, a mystery/romance by Victoria Holt. It’s one of her earlier novels, and it fulfills my 2025 Reading Challenge category of being published in my birth decade (1966). I enjoyed it a lot and gave it four stars. It was fun to find some of her oft-used tropes in this early book:

- a heiress who can’t be sure she is loved for herself 

- a female character uses arsenic for her complexion 

- someone dies of arsenic poisoning 

- a mysterious room where something terrible happened

- a hole in a boat that’s plugged with sugar so it will dissolve slowly and whoever is aboard will drown when far from land 

This weekend I binge watched the first season of Nine Perfect Strangers on Hulu and am now on S2. I did this because I read that Christine Baranski is in S2, and I didn’t know if I could begin S2 without watching S1 (I probably could have). Anyway, S1 was fun, and I’ve added the soundtrack (for both seasons) to my pile of Spotify playlists. Good music there! I will also read the book by Liane Moriarty, since that will allow me to tick off the “book made into tv show” category. I guess I would call this a psychological suspense story.

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I used to avoid making plans after work, partly because I get tired and partly because Gatsby had been alone all day. He always ran out to meet me when I opened the door, and I miss that so much. I have no one to greet me now in the evening. Depressing…