I got a call this morning from my Aunt Connie (my mother’s sister) which I let mosey on into voicemail since I hadn’t had my morning coffee yet and let’s be honest, family catch up calls can be so long and…involved. She and her husband are flying down next weekend for a huge Bauer Pottery sale (we all have our little quirks), so I figured she was just seeking trivial information like my street address or if I want to meet up for lunch.
Flash forward a couple hours and she calls…again. I’m elbow deep in dishes so I ignore, but can’t help but wonder where the sudden interest in stalking me is stemming from? Both of her messages are borderline nonchalant. Simply “hey, it’s Connie, give me a call when you have a second.” But twice in as many hours? I decide to bite the bullet, and if there were an award for ripping off the band-aid, Auntie C would win it.
Connie: “Caitlin!”
me: “hey!”
Connie: “your mom had a stroke. she’s fine.”
Uh, I’m sorry, what the fuckety fuck?!?!
Apparently, my mother’s leg started to feel a bit wonky late last night. Set to fly to Beijing this morning, she decided to wait it out and see how she felt in a few hours. After failing miserably to catch some shuteye, running to the bathroom after a phantom face tingle ignited the hypochondriac in her to ensure she could still smile, and just plain not wanting to take a risk, she called the EMTs to take her to the hospital at 4 this morning.
Her bloodwork was completely clean, blood pressure looked great, and for all intents and purposes, she was fine. According to the neurosurgeon on duty (thank God for small favors), she technically suffered a teeny tiny baby stroke that is shockingly common for folks over 60.
New meds, a new diet and a newly adopted motto on my part of “answer every phone call I EVER get from now on” should ensure this type of dramz doesn’t go down again, but sweet Christ! Talk about a case of the Mondays…
Hallelujah for deep breaths and a huge helping of Jenny’s homemade apple pie. Let the self-medication commence.
simply stunning.
02/10/2009
One of my girlfriends is in Amsterdam as we speak, and I literally just lectured her on how she cannot leave town before visiting AF’s house.
Michelle, I really hope you made it.
“Forgive me, Kitty, they don’t call me a bundle of contradictions for nothing!”
pourtant. pourtant. pourtant.
14/05/2009
R.I.P. Bea Arthur (1922-2009)
25/04/2009
I will forever remember you the way John Currin intended:
curiosity killed…
25/04/2009
hour.
mark.
oui.
25/04/2009
R.I.P. Paul Newman 1925-2008
25/04/2009
Paul’s wedding gift to Joanne was a silver cup that he had inscribed with the words “So you wound up with Apollo/If he’s sometimes hard to swallow/Use this.”
“He tells the worst jokes. And that wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t keep repeating them over and over.”
-Robert Redford
Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!
25/04/2009
this is the best email I’ve seen in a LONG time…of course it was for karen.
Subject: paul newman
…he lived in the town that i grew up in. when i was in 3rd grade i saw him in the supermarket. my mother gave me a grocery receipt and told me to get his autograph. he was wearing a silver satin jacket that said “newman’s own” in bright red letters on the back.
as he approached the dairy section, i politely asked him for an autograph. he looked at me in disgust and said:
“kid, i don’t DO autographs.”
then he picked up some mid-market cheese and walked away. (true story)
in other news, i had an mild-to-medium-strength crush on you when I interned. so there’s that…
This is a incredibly drawn out way of saying:
1. Paul newman was awesome.
2. I hope you’re well, karen.
-R
“left a good job in the city…”
25/04/2009
this was:
-10 seconds before we realized we were the only assholes on the river still wearing our life vests.
-30 min before we realized we needed to swap places (apparently, I’m stronger in the rear).
-and about 4 hours before we realized we were going to flip over in front of hordes of people.
