Sep
1
I bought sliced turkey deli meat the other day and then a few days later read about how nine (!!) people have died from eating listeria-laden deli meat from Boar’s Head. I went and peered at my own paper-wrapped bundle: sure enough, Boar’s Head on the label, along with the price which was frankly astronomical for a mere half-pound of limp beige flaps. Surely they have recalled the meat in question and THIS turkey has been given the all clear, I thought, before hurling the package into the trash, because I’ll be goddamned if overpriced turkey meat is what takes me out. I prefer to die from a far more likely source, anyway: choking on a half-sucked Werther’s while laughing at something stupid I saw on TikTok.
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John and I went to Cannon Beach recently and the first night was so calm and cool; the sunset was like a dollop of orange-red paint spread across the sky. Nearly everyone was taking photos, one after another. We all wanted to keep the moment in our pockets. People huddled around little fires that glowed as the night came on. The seagulls were absolute menaces and continually tore into carefully-packed beach bags whenever someone’s back was turned, which gave a comical element to the whole picture-perfect evening. Ah, there’s a lovely couple in striking silhouette against Haystack Rock, and there goes a screeching gull with half a wheel of their brie speared on its beak.
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When I was a child I was diagnosed with a bicuspid aortic valve, which was initially treated with great respect (rounds of antibiotics before any dental procedure, ongoing gooey-stickered heart scans) and then fully ignored as I sailed off into adulthood. Once I turned 50 I figured it was time to check in with a cardiac specialist and so I recently saw one. He was disarmingly young and lean (I strongly recommend the Mediterranean diet, he told me, and also wrote in my notes; I pictured him at home having small portions of fish grilled with olive oil and never once housing an entire box of Deli Rye Triscuits) and efficiently sent me off for an echocardiogram right after our visit. Later, someone called me and said guess what, you don’t have a bicuspid aortic valve after all, you have a leaky mitral valve. They were largely unconcerned about this since it’s apparently been leaky all my life, long enough for heart-valve-diagnosing technology to leap forward and offer a far more accurate view of things.
I had a strange sort of reassessment of self after hearing this news: you’re not THIS, you’re THAT. Neither one being all that scary or bad except maybe it’ll get worse? Or maybe it won’t, who can say but the gods of widowmakers and listeria and car wrecks and cancer and windpipe-clogging butter rum candies. But also: it feels so right? I have always suspected that I have a tender, leaking heart.
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We’ve got an ongoing heat wave happening here in Eugene and I’d like to speak with the manager of late summer about it because I had just peeled away the unattractive aluminum foil I’d taped over the windows of my studio thinking that crisp apple-scented fall temperatures were on the way. This is the first summer I can remember feeling like it’s overstayed its welcome, maybe because the broiling highs started early this year and have hung around for days/weeks at a time, unusual for the PacNW. I look forward to switching up my complaining as the days get painfully short and the grey skies settle in and I trade the discomfort of constant boob sweat for long-pants waistbands.
We have, at least so far, escaped the worst of the wildfire smoke, which has become a depressingly routine summer experience. I’ll never forget the toxic Mars-like red haze that settled in for a long terrible week in 2020, just about when it felt like everything everywhere was literally and/or figuratively on fire. It was almost too on the nose. Jeez, I’d think, peering outside each day and making my mouth into a sad little flat line, we GET it already.
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Riley just turned nineteen! And he’s leaving for college later this month! I don’t know what to say about the passing of parenting time except that it both does and does not feel real that it has been nineteen years. It does and does not feel real that he is heading off to live on his own. It all flew by so quickly, just like everyone said, but that’s only when you’re looking in the rearview. We lived every bit of those nineteen years together, so many great times and fun times and boring times and hard times and just times, just time, and that was right and good and so too is this next stage. We took so many pictures along the way to try and stay the moment, a million spectacular sunsets of our growing boy Riley, but everything goes forward forever and that can be a real heartbreak and it can also be the greatest most heart-leakiest gift.
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Your writing floors me. I giggle, I tear up, I feel anxiety, I feel melanchoy and awe. You have a brilliant gift. I am so glad I get the privilege of reading your musings. Sending you all the best.
Thank you for the update! Always love hearing what you’re up to. Always funny and touching and somehow mirrors what’s going on in my life as well. We’re all just out here, aging and crying and hugging our kids :)
I have a difficult time relating to most people, especially people who grill individual portions of fish that are exactly the recommended size of a fist or a DVD or whatever size is currently the optimal, Mediterranean diet one.
If you haven’t ever eaten the equivalent of an entire family size bag of instant mashed potatoes for dinner because it was all you had in the house, we probably can’t relate.
You are relatable and I love you. <3
Nineteen! I remember when he was but a wee, suspicious-eyed baby. Wow.
So good to hear from you! And I feel like my heart is leaky now too. Guess it matches my eyes. Stupid menopause.
It’s so good to see a post from you! I just peeked over here, wondering if you had written about “back to school” and whatnot. All your random thoughts are just perfect, from boob sweat to heart leaking. My boys are just a few years behind yours, and yep, nailed it
Thanks for sharing those vignettes. Maybe you’ll write some about what it’s like sending a kid to college? I’d surely love to hear about it through your voice.
So wonderful hearing from you!
Okay, first I thought I read PEEING instead of PEERING and I was like, man 2020 was bad for me too but at least I wasn’t peeing outside like I guess they were in the Pacific NW? Ha ha I read it three times and finally got it, peering, peeRing! Everything goes forward forever is such a great way to describe what happens with time, I never feel like it goes FAST but forward is a perfect word for it. I hope Riley does great in College, how exciting!
I’ve commented over the years and I just had to comment again because when I remember to read I always enjoy the similarities in our lives, and always love your take on things and your writing. So I took my oldest to college for her freshman year this year and I also threw out my Boars Head turkey last week. Solidarity, sister!
Welcome back! We’ve missed you. Always love your posts. How the heck is Riley 19? i’ve been reading you about that long????
Wow, this was amazing. So glad you’re still writing. Best wishes to Riley.
So, Riley is 19 and I suppose that means I’ve been reading your blog for over 20 years, and there hasn’t been a single entry that wasn’t worth it. As long as you want to write it, I’ll read it.
Also, I have going through my brain “Don’t tell my heart, my leaky leaky heart”.