My friend, Marc, was murdered a few years ago. Today a detective called me. He said that Marc's sister thought that he was going to come over to fix my computer the night that "It Happened" (the murder). Not true. Marc and I had lost touch with each other (except for Christmas cards).
About a year ago, another private detective called to ask me if I was the one who watched Marc's dog while he was on travel.
I didn't even know that Marc had a dog.
Marc was my best friend for a few years, but we had drifted apart. It's a long story, and not something that I necessarily want to blog, but suffice it to say that Marc and I were best friends at one time.
And then he got himself murdered.
Needless to say, I've been a mess tonight. I do not like to be haunted by murdered people. I do not like detectives calling me. I do not like that I lost touch with my friend Marc, and so now have no information to offer to the people who are trying to convict his killer. I so badly want to help his family, but there is nothing at all that I can offer them.
Lessons learned. Do not ever lose touch with old friends. You never know when they (or their parents) may need you.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Travel and Tapas
My big event this week was a trip to Chantilly, VA. The weather was perfect, and the flowers and blooming trees were beautiful. Still, as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz said, "there's no place like home". It was a short trip, but I don't travel well and I'm still recovering from lack of sleep. It's good to be back home.
We're planning a "Tapas Pot-luck" party for next weekend. Tapas is the latest rage in this area - sort of a Spanish appetizer. We invited about 40 of our friends and neighbors to come over on Saturday and bring a 'tapas' dish. We are hoping that a lot of them cancel - our house isn't really big enough to hold 40 guests. Still, we'd have a lot of fun if they all came. And if the weather stays nice, they can spill out into the yard.
Spring has finally arrived. The daffodils are up, and tulips are beginning to bloom. The flowering trees and shrubs are looking really good. It seems that winter is finally over. This weekend the weather is nearly perfect - about 65 degrees in the daytime, and 40 at night. Couldn't ask for better.
Guess I'll try to catch up on a little more sleep - I get really grumpy when I'm tired.
We're planning a "Tapas Pot-luck" party for next weekend. Tapas is the latest rage in this area - sort of a Spanish appetizer. We invited about 40 of our friends and neighbors to come over on Saturday and bring a 'tapas' dish. We are hoping that a lot of them cancel - our house isn't really big enough to hold 40 guests. Still, we'd have a lot of fun if they all came. And if the weather stays nice, they can spill out into the yard.
Spring has finally arrived. The daffodils are up, and tulips are beginning to bloom. The flowering trees and shrubs are looking really good. It seems that winter is finally over. This weekend the weather is nearly perfect - about 65 degrees in the daytime, and 40 at night. Couldn't ask for better.
Guess I'll try to catch up on a little more sleep - I get really grumpy when I'm tired.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Interesting Weekend
We were watching TV last night and just chilling before it was time to go to bed when Neighbor called. "Whatcha doing?" he asked. "You wanna come over?" "Sure!" I told him. He just had surgery on Wednesday for a deviated septum (he calls it his 'nose job') and we'd been worried about him. He lives alone now, and surgery is no fun for anyone, especially if you are alone. I think he wanted us to know and see for ourselves that he was OK.
So we hauled ourselves off the couch, turned off the TV, and headed next door. I brought him a container of my homemade "cabbage-shittake mushroom-fresh oregano" soup. Fresh oregano is great for the sinuses.
Neighbor was in great spirits - he'd been prescribed some oxycodone for pain, but hadn't taken any, and was very proud of the fact. We were pleased to see that he wasn't in any terrible discomfort, and was actually looking pretty good for someone who had just had surgery. It was a good visit. We laughed and talked and while we were there, another friend came by to check on him as well.
We were about to head out the door when Neighbor handed us a small box of Cuban cigars.
Now, we have been known to smoke cigars, but we don't make it a habit and we're not particularly fond of high-grade Cubans. We're more into the "Jamaican-honeys" and Vanilla-flavored things. But how could we pass up the precious gift of genuine Cubans in exchange for an hour of friendship and some lowly, homemade cabbage soup?
We gracefully accepted the cigars - to refuse them would have been awkward. So now we are in the possession of five 'illegal' Cubans, "Limited Edition 2008", sealed in a wood-and-glass box marked "Hecho in Cuba". I think they're genuine. I also feel like the FBI may be knocking at our door, somehow knowing that we possess 'contraband'.
We have a chimenea on the patio behind the house. I may light a little fire and tell the Neighbor that we enjoyed 'smoking' the Cuban cigars...
So we hauled ourselves off the couch, turned off the TV, and headed next door. I brought him a container of my homemade "cabbage-shittake mushroom-fresh oregano" soup. Fresh oregano is great for the sinuses.
Neighbor was in great spirits - he'd been prescribed some oxycodone for pain, but hadn't taken any, and was very proud of the fact. We were pleased to see that he wasn't in any terrible discomfort, and was actually looking pretty good for someone who had just had surgery. It was a good visit. We laughed and talked and while we were there, another friend came by to check on him as well.
We were about to head out the door when Neighbor handed us a small box of Cuban cigars.
Now, we have been known to smoke cigars, but we don't make it a habit and we're not particularly fond of high-grade Cubans. We're more into the "Jamaican-honeys" and Vanilla-flavored things. But how could we pass up the precious gift of genuine Cubans in exchange for an hour of friendship and some lowly, homemade cabbage soup?
We gracefully accepted the cigars - to refuse them would have been awkward. So now we are in the possession of five 'illegal' Cubans, "Limited Edition 2008", sealed in a wood-and-glass box marked "Hecho in Cuba". I think they're genuine. I also feel like the FBI may be knocking at our door, somehow knowing that we possess 'contraband'.
We have a chimenea on the patio behind the house. I may light a little fire and tell the Neighbor that we enjoyed 'smoking' the Cuban cigars...
Friday, April 11, 2008
Taxes
I can't believe that I have waited this long to prepare my taxes. I'm not sure what caused the delay, but I've been blaming it on this endless, cold and depressing winter. Much better than blaming it on my own old age and laziness...
So, this weekend is dedicated to Tax Preparation. I have all the paperwork and forms ready. Taxes have been the talk of the workplace all week -mostly stuff like "You do your own taxes? Really?"
Talk like that makes me feel a little bit freakish. "What??? I have always done my own taxes - what's the big deal?" I felt a little better today when a female co-worker announced that she always did her own taxes - "It's easy!" she declared. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's easy, but it certainly isn't rocket science.
I had three years of leisure when my pastor hooked me up with an ex-convict who needed to do charity work as part of his parole. I never knew what the guy did to get himself in jail, but the years of leisure ended when the man was killed in a car accident.
My father was a professional tax preparer. It was totally unplanned, but he managed to die on April 15th. So, there are lots of memories for me this time of year. I have more than one reason for not liking the 15th of April.
So, this weekend is dedicated to Tax Preparation. I have all the paperwork and forms ready. Taxes have been the talk of the workplace all week -mostly stuff like "You do your own taxes? Really?"
Talk like that makes me feel a little bit freakish. "What??? I have always done my own taxes - what's the big deal?" I felt a little better today when a female co-worker announced that she always did her own taxes - "It's easy!" she declared. I wouldn't go so far as to say that it's easy, but it certainly isn't rocket science.
I had three years of leisure when my pastor hooked me up with an ex-convict who needed to do charity work as part of his parole. I never knew what the guy did to get himself in jail, but the years of leisure ended when the man was killed in a car accident.
My father was a professional tax preparer. It was totally unplanned, but he managed to die on April 15th. So, there are lots of memories for me this time of year. I have more than one reason for not liking the 15th of April.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Feeding Auntie Helen
Had a weird experience at the nursing home this weekend. My aunt was still in bed when we went to visit her at 2 PM on Sunday. Someone told us that she had been awake and active all night, so they allowed her to sleep late.
That's not surprising. My mother kept us awake many nights during the years that she suffered the same condition - vascular dementia.
The weirdness happened when they brought us her lunch tray. My aunt showed no interest in feeding herself, so I fed her. I thought that my mother's death was the end to my feeding another person. I have no children, but I know in a small, small way what it's like. An adult can become your child, actually.
My mother was my child. Our child. The child of my sister and I, who were no longer her daughters, eventually - she forgot us - and we became her sisters, and in the end her mother. Both of us.
Isaiah 49:15 got us through some very, very tough times. "Should a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you."
That's not surprising. My mother kept us awake many nights during the years that she suffered the same condition - vascular dementia.
The weirdness happened when they brought us her lunch tray. My aunt showed no interest in feeding herself, so I fed her. I thought that my mother's death was the end to my feeding another person. I have no children, but I know in a small, small way what it's like. An adult can become your child, actually.
My mother was my child. Our child. The child of my sister and I, who were no longer her daughters, eventually - she forgot us - and we became her sisters, and in the end her mother. Both of us.
Isaiah 49:15 got us through some very, very tough times. "Should a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you."
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