are you weary as water, in a faucet left dripping, with an incessant sadness, like a sad record skipping...
--ani difranco

Yes. I think i qualify as weary this week.
But what i really want to talk about? My wonderful husband, who deserves some extra accolades. He's been a perfect doll. Last night, on day 2 of the LongDays, i came home to homemade herb gnocchi with pesto, ready to throw in the pot, and on the table 5 minutes later. With a perfect caesar salad. A clean table, candles lit, high room score.

He's taken care of the cat, readied the second guest room ready for my dad to stay over midweek, and helped to entertain my cousin while i was working long days. He's been ready with a hug and a smile each time i've walked in the door. He wakes up enough at oh-dark-thirty to open his eyes, and kiss me goodbye in the mornings. And mostly? He's the most supportive, loving creature. Russell, thank you for going out of your way to make my week better this week. I needed it.

(Jeepers - how does a girl get so lucky?)

I am a creature of habit & ritual. Right down to my body's clock.

Yeah, there's some backstory. Read on.

Starting yesterday (and finishing tomorrow), i'm attending a 3-day course that's under development for Apple University on QuickTime Streaming. Everyday, the class starts at 8:45. I live in San Francisco. Apple is in Cupertino.

A normal commute (read: non-rush hour) takes me about 45 minutes each way. During rush hour (which starts somewhere between 7:30 and 7:45, as far as i can tell, and ends by 9am), it takes almost twice that time to reach work. I loathe sitting in traffic. I especially loathe it at a time of day when i'm usually waking up, putting coffee on, and puttering about to the shower.

So, i've been getting up around 6, and leaving my house around 7. Putting me at work just before 8. I find that getting up a few hours earlier and having to function does much more interesting things to my body than staying up a few extra hours. I think this is becauase my bedtime often moves around, while my wake-up time stays pretty static. (There's also the small factor that i'm a night person in the first place, so my body chemistry is a lot more malleable then.)

Yesterday was pretty interesting. The effects were definitely more pronounced than just losing a few hours of sleep. My body tried really hard to crash at 1, and again at 3, and again at 5. Around 11:30, i conducted an interview. I found myself queueing up questions in my head as usual, but they kept wandering out of line, out the door, and to play in the street. Again, this is still all much more pronounced than if i had gone to bed a few hours later.

So back to the habit; the routine.

I think, fundamentally, that my daily routine starts when i get up. Including what *time* i get up. My morning rituals are important too - if i don't get to shower as i start my day, i feel fuzzy-headed all day. Even if i get the shower later. If i don't get 20 minutes with a cup of coffee, and my email, i get *very* cranky. (Even if, say, i have the coffee in hand and am driving. It's the sitting quietly with the cup that is as important as drinking the coffee and mainlining the caffeine.) Even goofier are the tiny rituals with Russell every morning - but i won't subject you to all of those. (Noone should be subject to just how goofy we are behind closed doors; even for the sake of example points.) Ritual is powerful, and habit and routine are definitely tied up in my life's daily ritual.

And when i go to bed just isn't part of my habit, routine, or ritual. It just helps determine how much rest i get. So this whole getting up really early thing? They're thrashing my ritual! That's why it has so much impact!

That, or i'm getting old. ;)

My 'main billboard' (the one you see at the first stoplight you encounter, exiting 280N onto San Jose Avenue) is usually something tedious and boring - O'Douls new bottle colour, vote for me, and other sundry things i really don't care about. A few weeks ago, the billboard was taken over by an ad i think is just brilliant - especially for San Francisco. The billboard is black, with big white sans-serif letters, and a solitary yellow box of a border. It says: "The SUV backlash officially starts now. miniusa.com" It makes me grin every damned time i pass by it.

i'm not sure i would have understood - except Andy has been obsessed with the new minis. He's not the car guy in his relationship - it's David who gets Car and Driver, and goes to the car shows to ogle the new models. But Andy loves the new mini, so i'd heard about them. They're terribly cute - and optimal for San Francisco. Somehow, though, they push the same button that the new bugs do - a tiny economy car has been revamped and remodeled, and suddenly costs what my Acura did? Seems a little odd. Then again, if it makes you happy, what's the problem? And all that said? I still can't wait to see them cruising the city.

While i have always been a do-it-yourself kinda girl, i should 'fess up to being a tool-user. Tools are cool. This past week, i've been noticing just how much i rely on mine. Examples?

As someone who has routinely sneered at web-based HTML authoring solutions, i have to applaud Ben & Mena -- Movable Type is one of the cooler things i have seen in a long time. I may have to change my tune. I have thoroughly enjoyed using it for the last few months, and the 2.0 upgrade just installed here is a step lovelier. (Yep, they can expect a donation from the borogoves soon!)

Having just regained my HTML editor of choice (it finally went native for OS X), i find myself busily and happily updating my book pages and our filmwank pages.

Microplane graters have to be one of my most-often-used kitchen tools, beyond the basic Henckles and Calphalon.

DragThing is certainly one of the most-relied on tools on my Macintosh, going on years now.

And as much as i may moan and whine about it, at Apple i get to use one of the best damned bug-tracking systems i have ever seen. Radar, for better or for worse, is my friend.

That pushpin in my drawer isn't for hanging things - it's for stubborn reset buttons and CD drives. Steal it to hang something, and i'll become cranky soon enough.

My fancy (though inexpensive) garden nozzle and my red enameled watering can both made me more able and happier to water my wee herb garden.

All that, and i have opposable thumbs, too! And own the Makita in the house. ;)

Today i called the helpful folks at the San Francisco Symphony, and exchanged my credit card number for the promise of some tickets to performances next season.

General sales start in a few days (March 20, i think). In case you're interested in joining us for any of these, here's our lineup:

meriko & Russell:
Friday 'D' Series
13 September 2002 - MTT conducts Stravinsky, Barber, Ruggles, Tchaikovsky.
4 October 2002 - MTT conducts MTT (world premiere), Bartok, Strauss.
7 February 2003 - Rostropovich conducts Dutilleux, Shostakovich
21 February 2003 - Tortelier conducts Ravel, Marin, Elgar
28 March 2003 - Bruggen conducts Faure, Poulenc, Rameau
25 April 2003 - MTT conducts Strauss, Mahler

Russell & Forrest:
Wednesday morning open rehearsals

Russell & meriko:
20 September 2002- MTT conducts Copland, Beethoven
27 September 2002 - MTT conducts Mahler
22 November 2002 - Sloane conducts Wynton Marsalis
2 May 2003 - MTT conducts Adams (SFS commission), Stravinsky, Tchaikovsky

I did some more thinking today about shyness. (Ok, so i spent most of today at a wedding reception for my friends Ron and Nancy, where i both confronted full-on my own shy nature, and consumed a fair bit of the ethanol-based beverages provided. Thinking, i tell you - i was thinking!)

My main musing was that being shy and charsimatic are not mutually exclusive characteristics in humans. Perhaps it is the element of charisma that keeps folks from believing it when shy folks feel, well, shy. For example, our old roomate James is almost the definition of 'shy, but charismatic'. My brother caught most of my family's charisma quota, but maybe mine only surfaces when i'm talking to people i already know, or folks in the food industry? Hard to say.

(Clearly, you can also be charismatic but not at all shy - my CEO is an exemplary case therin.)

Tonight we went to the symphony - i had high hopes. Peter Maxwell Davies conducting, Garrick Ohlsson on piano.

The first piece, Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 14 in E-flat major K.449, i found very ...nice. Not engaging, very background. I'm not too fond of string-heavy pieces; i found myself drifting to it, reading my book, until the Ohlsson started to play. Then i'd pay some attention, he'd stop, and i'd go back to my story. Nice, but nothing earth-shattering.

The second piece, on the other hand, was fantastic. Ravel's Piano Concerto in D major for the Left Hand. It was commissioned for the Wittgenstein who lost his right arm in the 1914 war on the Russian front. My book lay forgotten in my lap - i leaned forward, watching the musicians the whole time. Lively, enchanting, robust, i want to listen again, several times over. The piece started with a contrabassoon solo, futher endearing me to this not-often-heard instrument. The program notes do a much better job of explaining the piece than i can (such a bad musicgeek!) - but i do know i was captivated throughout.

The last piece, the US premeire of Davies' Antarctic Symphony, fell disappointingly flat. I was glad our seats are in side terrace, above the percussionists, because the saving grace was found (for me, at least) in listening to all the odd drums and toys they had laid out. (Five players with xylophone, glockenspiel, marimba, crotales, tubular bells, bell-tree, very small high wood-block, Chinese cympbals, clashed cymbals, four suspended cymbals (very small, small, medium, and large) nipple gong, tam-tam (with plastic soap-dish), tuned brandy glasses, two small pebbles, football rattle, biscuit tin (filled with broken glass), three lengths of builder's scaffolding, Japanese temple gong, and two cymbals.) Unfortunately, the piece didn't hang together at all - i couldn't follow it & wasn't interested in doing so. It seemed like there was never more than 10 seconds at a time that seemed to work together - but neither was it interestingly clashing. I always have high hopes when i see a composer conducting his own works, and i like seeing premieres. I spent most of this piece composing this article, and thinking about whether Forrest is right, and i can't handle contemporary composers. Unfortunately, i just think this piece didn't work for me at all. From the applause? It didn't work for most of the rest of the audience, either. Poor PMD. That has to be rough.

The other small notes:
--Burnout velvet tops seem to be all the rage for female symphony players this year.
--We ate dinner at Paul K, on Gough. Quite good; highly recommended. Skip one of the apps and get the flatbread with pomegranite walnut dip. We couldn't find room for dessert.
--Our waiter was perfect for us; the waiter at the table next door cracked us up, but would have driven us crazy.

What i remember...

So many trips to Yosemite. Lovely evenings in the cabin. Walks on many paths. The Ansel Adams gallery. (What an introduction!) Learning about the history present in and around Yosemite. Your orange chicken. Games around the table. Always wanting to be on your Trivial Pursuit team (or Tom's, but i needed one of you two on my team to win).

Our trips to Disneyland. Car trips here and there and around and about.

Gingerbread girls, with my name on them.

Stringing Christmas lights to your house the winter your mother died, because you didn't want to come back to a dark house at a time like that.

My mom teaching us to make refrigerator potato rolls (our holiday bread). And Christmas cookies. And ravioli assembly lines. Indian Fry bread with honey with you at Festival. Ginger ale.

Writing my paper on a female hero (heroine, if you will) for an AAUW writing contest in Junior High. About you. Meaning it.

You taking me out in your '57 Chevy. I don't remember where we went, those trips about Livermore, but it was in your car, and it was always a treat. Years later, taking you out for a spin, with you driving, in my mom's new blue Miata. (Top down, you wearing my greek fisherman's cap and a scarf.)

Music with you. The Livermore-Amador symphony as a child, and a few years ago, the San Francisco Symphony for a Sunday afternoon performance.

You teaching me that women can and will do most anything a man can do, even if there are cultural and social barriers. Teaching me about the AAUW. Teaching me about history. Showing me that there are causes worth fighting for - fighting hard. Leading me by example.

Hearing about how you not only were a ranking officer on a Navy ship in WWII, not only the only woman on the ship, but Ronald Reagan's leading lady in the on-board skit performed when he was flown out to amuse the troops.

Your care for critters and animals; your encouragement in all things i cared about, especially critters and biology and science.

Your astounding stash of bags. 8)

The first time i told someone outside our families that you were my grandma. I must have been 8 or 9. It was the first year we took you to choose and cut a Christmas tree for your house when we went to get ours; the owner looked at us (me holding your tree in one of my hands, and your hand in the other) and asked who the tree was for. I answered, "For my grandma's." I remember you smiling at me, and thinking that something special had just happened, but not really understanding quite what, or how much it meant to you.

You and Tom coming to visit me and take me to dinner in Santa Cruz, when i was in college.

Your generosity and acceptance of every crazy boyfriend i ever brought home to meet you. Including Russell.

How much it hurt over the last few years when your cancer therapy kept you from being able to eat (but not able to see us, go out with us, or visit and love us). How much joy it brought when you were able to eat again in these last few years, with the gusto and joy i remember.

Not being able to imagine how old you were. Or losing you. The picture of you and Tom in Yosemite is the icon of you in my mind.

Your (& Tom, individually) wishes for me on my wedding day: that i be blessed with as many amazing years with Russell as you shared with Tom. And your wedding gift of our wedding night at the Claremont hotel - because that's where you and Tom had your wedding reception and stayed on your wedding night.

Last Saturday, March 2nd, when you came out of your fog, looked at me, smiled, and said 'Oh, hi, meriko' - exactly as i remember you saying it every time you saw me for the last 23 years.

Holding your hand this last week. Kissing you goodbye each night as i left.

Holding Tom's hand today. Saying goodbye as the Honor Guard saluted you.

And that's not even the half of it. Go with peace, Lorraine. I love you.

Lorraine, i'll miss you.

I've been spending a lot of time on 580 this week. (See caregiver & vigil, below.) I've been noticing this very strange set of billboards - in SF and in Oakland - not all the way out towards Livermore. I've seen three of them. I visited the site they quote, and it's a very stock, normal site - no reference to the billboards at all.

And the billboards just seem so ... sarcastic? sardonic? Something like that. The three i've seen:

Billboard #1 - in SF, just before boarding the bay bridge.
Head South.
Hit LA.
Get a fun augmentation.

Billboard #2 - just after you get onto 580E from the bay bridge
Head South.
Hit the theme parks.
Get a little loopy.

Billboard #3 - on 580W, mid-Oakland
Head South.
Get to San Diego.
Rediscover your wild side.

So odd. The site? www.visitcalifornia.com. I wonder what the SoCal billboards say...

We're continuing to sit with Lorraine. Her vital signs are dropping, slowly - but they're strong. We haven't been able to wake her in a day and a half. They came and gave her last rites on Tuesday night. Tom and i are doing a lot of just sitting with her.

I also picked up a small canon scanner, and took it with me yesterday. Tom and i went through photos, with him telling me the stories he remembers while i jotted them down so i can type them up for all their nieces and nephews. Tom and i found an album of Lorraine's from when she first joined the Navy - before they met - and it was amazing to look through. Tucked in was a dance card for a summer formal, with Tom's name written in the first dance, and a line extending him for the entire rest of the card.

I could go on and on about the things i've seen, the stories Tom & i have shared, and the peace i'm finding from sitting this vigil. I'm very lucky to be a part of Lorraine's life - all the way through now.

Today Russell & i renewed our claim to the title of 'effortlessly cool.'

We've just returned from our local polling place - in the back of the voodoo shop around the corner.

A few weeks ago, at Russell's grandmother's memorial service, our polling place came up. Jean, Russell's sister, was telling another relative how the only thing they knew about Church of Christ (said relative is a minister there) is that it was their polling place. Sister Katie chimed in, and started a discussion about being confused about how, precisely, voting in a church followed through on our fabled separation of church and state. Russell or i (i can't remember who, now) at this point chimed in that we vote in a religious location, too - in the back room of the local voodoo shop. Jean cried out "That is SO COOL. How is it that everything you two do is so EFFORTLESSLY COOL? It's not fair!"

I've never seen a relative of Russell's disappear faster than the Church of Christ minister. I also didn't hear my mother-in-law laugh quite so hard at anything else that week. Score one more point for the voodoo shop around the corner.

I am exhausted, but i wouldn't have it any other way.

Lorraine, my adoptive grandmother, is dying. She's been fighting cancer for a little over five years, and this fall, the doctors finally said that her body couldn't take any more curative therapy, and they were switching her to a pain-abatement regime. She did quite well for a long time - went to New York to see her sister, ate well, helped throw Tom (her husband, my adoptive grandfather) an awesome 80th birthday party, and so on. She was even doing pretty well two weeks ago when my parents visited, all things considered. They said she was a little more confused than before, but given that she was on time-release morphine, that seems expected. Heck, i'd be more confused than usual if you attached a 12-hour release morphine patch to me.

We got a phone call on Thursday night; she went on Tuesday to make her funeral arrangements, and her health started seriously declining the next day, on Wednesday. By Thursday, she wasn't able to swallow anymore.

On Friday Russell & i spent the day in Livermore with Tom and Lorraine. I helped Rose and Maudie care for Lorraine some; she held onto Russell's hand tightly. She is lucid for maybe 2 seconds at a time, every 5 or 6 hours. We visited with Tom. We talked & ate dinner with him.

My parents arrived on Saturday; they joined me at Tom & Lorraine's. Again, we talked with Tom, took care of Lorraine, had some dinner.

This morning, they went back over early, and then left for Las Vegas around noon. I went over later in the afternoon, having made dinner i could reheat and serve later. I stayed with Tom and Lorraine until around 8pm, when Tom went to bed.

Each day, i've learned more about the basic caregiving tasks for someone in their final days, who is restricted to bed. Today i learned the final bits, helping with the medications as well. I'll be trying to work half-days for the next few days; Tom needs me even more than Lorraine does.

What i'm learning? It's exhausting. It takes amazing amounts of energy, but i have it in me. I have this bit set in my hindbrain that fires automatically in situations of crisis like this; i experience my emotions, but in a small hyperreal box somewhere in my head. I store them up and process them later. I feel, but i don't fall apart. I can take care of people. (I get this strange, autonomous bit from my Grandma Jesolyn; my mom complains that it skipped her, but she has more of it than she thinks.) I wouldn't miss taking care of Tom and Lorraine for the world; i'm both very fortunate to have had them next door during my child & teenagehood, but also to be close enough to give a little back now.

And i can see it doing good. When i'm there, Tom sits with Lorraine more. She responds to him. She responds to me talking to her. Tom can talk to me, a little, about how he feels about this. I can't even begin to imagine where he is right now; he's losing his partner of 54 years.

One of the most precious gifts i received at my wedding was the wish (individually, from each of them) that i have as many happy years with Russell as they've had with each other. I hope their wish comes through; they're amazing people.