Marching to the beat of a different mandolin

It's been a really good few days. McKenzie and I are working hard on changing our perspectives so that we stop expecting negativity from the other. I'm honestly blown away by what an amazingly positive impact this attitude shift has had. I'm trying to be more conscious of when he's bidding for my attention, and vice versa, and we're just trying extra hard to engage each other. Not forcing it, but seizing opportunities. It's working beautifully so far. We had a really nice trip to Klamath Falls for the weekend. We listened to Jon Stewart's "America: The Book: The Audiobook" on the way down, and finished it just as we were pulling into our hotel.

We played two days of bridge and then drove home after the Swiss on Sunday. As is our grand tradition, we finished 2nd in the pair event. That's not just my tradition with Z -- I think I have more 2nd place finishes than any other results combined. Not a bad way to be, but I'd love to actually WIN more often. Oh well :)

I'm working the first half of this week so I can fly back to Virginia on Thursday for the big huge Massie reunion on the farm. I'm so unbelievably excited. Lucy is already in Charlottesville staying with my parents this week, so I've been checking in with them each day and talking to her a lot. You guys. My niece is so cool. I love that kid. I can't believe she's 10 years old. She's amazing. I can't wait to see her, and the other two nieces, and the hundreds of other relatives that will be at Pharsalia this weekend.

I was just going to pack a carryon, but I've just been informed that I will be returning to the PNW with the at-long-last-completed bridal shower/slightly-belated-first-anniversary quilt for Emily and Chris. I'm really psyched to see that finished product, too. Emily, when are we getting together for the quilt exchange? And by exchange, I mean I just give it to you; you don't have to give me a quilt in exchange. I know they don't have the fourth of July in Canadia, but maybe you can come down that weekend anyway and run a 10K with me.

Oh yeah. I signed up for a 10K. It's called the Red, White, and Blues Run, and it's at the Portland waterfront on 7/6. It's my first time doing a course that loops on itself -- it's a 5K course, and those that run the 10K just do it twice. I'm somewhat concerned that I'm going to hate this particular format -- I'll be mentally prepared to go around again, but there's still something really bummery about seeing a finish line and then having to run the opposite direction. Oh well. I've got nothing to prove. I'm just gonna run. Or walk. Whatever. I'm going 6.2 miles that morning, somehow :)

I'm doing a 5-mile practice run tomorrow with Rigo, since I haven't done more than 5K since my half marathon. I should probably make sure my legs are still up to it. I think probably they are...then I'm meeting Marissa after work for noms and walks in our beautiful city. Antidepressants are great and all, but nothing's better for my psyche than walking around Portland.

Two more days of work (and really challenging workouts!), then I'm off to the east coast. Life is still far from perfect, but I'm in a great fucking mood nonetheless. I hope it lasts awhile.

I thought what happened was that I was going to bed really early. I think what really happened is I took a late-evening nap and now I'm awake again for a while. Sigh...might as well write something.

It's been a lovely weekend. Katy and Emily both stayed with me, so it was a real sister party. Or a fake sister party, since none of us are actually sisters. Except, you know, we totally are. Anyway we did Portlandy things on Saturday -- food carts, Saturday Market, and wandering around downtown. Sunday we went to the zoo to take advantage of how fucking beautiful it is outside right now. Katy went home on Sunday afternoon, then Em and I went to Ikea to shop for her new place. Basically Vancouver is a crazy expensive town, so she does most of her shopping either online or south of the border. I held my impulse buys to a minimum, but not nil. I did buy a mirror that I've really liked every time I visit the store. Unlike everything else I've ever gotten at Ikea, it did not come with all of the necessary parts, though. It had a mounting thing on the back, and a little plate to screw into the wall, but no screws or tools for screwing. I dug around in our garage and found the right tools, though, and mounted the thing all by myself at the top of the stairs. We'll see how long it lasts without falling...

Emily helped me cut the vinyl and replace the floor in our laundry nook. The new machines come on Wednesday. It will be really nice to be able to wash my clothes again. I've got plenty of clothes, but not necessarily enough socks, underwear, and gym things to get me through two weeks without laundry (because it had been a week already when the machine broke). I could hand wash some things in the bathtub, I guess, but I've made it this far...

I finally met my friend Paul today, too. He's a good friend of Lorie and David's, and they cyber-introduced us so that Paul could help me work on my website concept (coming soon, maybe?). He was in town and we made some progress on the site, and maybe one day soon it'll actually exist. Anyway it was great to see him.

I worked out with Ertan this afternoon, which kicked my butt as usual, but it was mentally different today. This was my first time seeing him since rejoining WW, and he and I could both tell that I was in a better place this time. More determined, and stronger than last week. The mental switch has definitely been flipped, and I'm optimistic about turning my fitness around the way I want to. Still not sure if I can reasonably expect to ever get back to running -- my plantar fasciitis is getting worse if anything, and it feels wrong to test the limits there. So I'm pushing harder at other things and will stop using my feet as an excuse to be lazy. There are other exercises.

As for WW, I've been tracking everything religiously, and putting more into my workouts as a result. Amazing the effect simply writing shit down has. I've always known this, but allowed myself to get lazy about it, and that's when my previous success started to unravel. I don't know if I can keep up the regular tracking forever and ever, but I know that it's what it takes to see the results I want, and I'm doing it now. I'll tackle each new day as it comes.

My nine-year-old (!!!) niece Lucy recently finished a school project where she had to write an essay about one of her grandparents. She wrote about my dad, and the details she included are just so precious. Precious that he thought it was important to share, and precious that she thought it should be featured in his life story. The first time he had soft-serve ice cream (1951, in a movie theater). The time his pants split on a date (playing tennis with my mom). How much a full bag of apples would weigh when my dad worked on the farm during the harvest (50 pounds). I love it.

I wrote Lucy a letter yesterday, and I started off by telling her how much I appreciated her essay. I then dove into family history. She likes history, but at her age, that basically means she likes memorizing the presidents' names and a few macro details of the past. I couldn't stop myself, though, once I got on the subject. She didn't mention in the essay that the town my dad grew up in is named after our family. My guess is that it didn't come up so she doesn't know. But I went on and on about how special it is that our family has such a rich history, and even though it's not all GOOD history (i.e. slavery), that doesn't mean it can't be interesting and fascinating. I don't know how much she'll care about it right now, but I told her some stories that I hope she'll think are cool, anyway. The main one was about her great-grandparents, Cap and Margaret. My grandfather was born in 1901 on the family farm, 14th of 15 children, and dropped out of school before high school (I can't remember if it was 6th or 8th grade when he stopped) to work on the farm. Marma was 7 years younger, but I believe they began courting when she was just 13. At least, that's when they met. I don't know for sure what year they were married but I think it wasn't until the 30's sometime. I should figure that out. Anyway, even though her husband only had a partial formal education, Marma went to college AND graduate school, earning her master's degree in a time when many women didn't go to school at all. I wonder if Lucy will understand just how exceptional that is.

Marma was a Latin teacher, and she didn't tell a lot of stories about her work, but I do remember the one she told about the time her school burned down. A student was leaning against the wall and noticed it felt hot. Turns out it was a fire. She never mentioned if anyone was hurt or killed, so I'm going to assume that everyone got out safely. (In the south, death is golden gossip, ESPECIALLY sudden and tragic death, and children are not shielded from these things. My guess is that if anyone had died, she would have proudly eulogized them for me.)

I don't know much about my grandfather, because he died in 1971, 12 years before I was born. I know he was a smoker and lived the last several years of his life with crippling emphysema, which made him quite grumpy. Before that, though, he was active on the farm, a sharp investor, and worked for DuPont, which as I understand is pretty much what every young man in Virginia did at that time. His name was Bland Barksdale Massie, and I have no idea why he was called Cap, but he was. I'll ask my dad.

I wonder what my nieces would say about me if they were asked. I think they'd probably all mention that I love to write, and play bridge, and travel, and run...and that I have cool/crazy clothes. Hehe, I'd love to see what they'd come up with...

I meant to post this here two nights ago, but LJ wasn't letting me post during maintenance. Anyway, here's something I wrote for Emily.

In just about two weeks, I'm going to toast my best friend of 29 years and the man who has been by her side (and mine, via the transitive property of loved ones) for 10 years (!!) at their wedding. But unless the whole crowd wants to hear me ramble on for many hours, I'm going to have to pick just a few highlights from the last 29 years of laughs, tears, love, and sibling rivalry. Since I can't share all the stories in my toast, I'll share a few here leading up to the big day. And I promise I won't make any "it's about time!" jokes.



I have always thought of Emily as my little sister. These days, I don't even go through the spiel of "well, we're not REALLY sisters, but we grew up together and blah, blah, blah." I just refer to her as my little sister and let people who actually listen to me when I talk be confused about it when I also talk about being the baby of my family.



As the baby of the Massie clan, and the only daughter, I always wanted a little sister. I begged my mom and thought she was SO MEAN not to give me another sibling -- a younger one, one I could actually boss around! I really ached for a little sister, but the truth is, I've had one as long as I can remember. Emily and I grew up in the same neighborhood, and we spent every waking minute together as children, and lots of sleeping minutes, too. And I DID boss her around! A lot! The fact that she's grown up as independent and strong as she has, and the fact that she still chooses to associate with me after all that bossing around are a testament to her amazing character.



We went through a lot of the same phases that most close siblings do, especially the rivalries. In hindsight, I'm really glad I'm a year older and had that head start on Emily, because if it weren't for the 13 months of childhood development I had on her, I think my ego would have suffered mightily with the results of a more balanced contest.



In adulthood, I have chosen to refer to Emily exclusively as my sister, because after all we've shared, "best friend" just isn't strong enough to describe my attachment to her. And I even think sometimes that "sister" isn't the right word, either, because after all, you're almost biologically and environmentally forced to love your siblings. Or at least put up with them. Emily and I don't have to like each other or spend time around each other. While we still share some very important fundamental characteristics forged in our joint childhood, we have grown up to be very different people. We've lived far apart. We've taken on different interests. I HATE soccer! and I CAN'T sing! One would think these would get me blacklisted from Em's social circle. But in spite of these horrific flaws of mine -- and some others I haven't mentioned, I guess -- Emily still calls me "best friend" and "sister." We've chosen to stay close, even though we don't have a familial obligation to do so. And that choice, at least from my end, hasn't even been conscious. It's been easy. Probably because we're just soul mates. Sorry, Chris.



I'm going to stick with "sister," though, because if I start dropping "soul mate" in casual conversation, I think that would be even more confusing and awkward. And uncomfortable.



If "best friend" isn't a strong enough label for my relationship with her, imagine the trouble I have when I talk about Chris. "Boyfriend" has sure been an underbid for at least the last five or six years. And Emily would puke if I described him as her "soul mate," (but I wouldn't, because we've already established that's me). Ten years. I've been married twice in that time! The only steady relationship I've had that lasted ten years or more was -- is -- Emily. And if she's capable of maintaining a strong bond with someone as socially dysfunctional as I've been, then I think that bodes very well for the next several decades with Chris (whom I do not consider socially dysfunctional at all, for the record).



The thing about sibling rivalry is that sometimes it's difficult to stomach your sib's successes. I've always been proud of Emily's many accomplishments, but I admit that I didn't always want her to be the best at everything -- because if she was, then she was beating me. But she is the CLEAR winner in relationshipping. There's just no contest. So I gracefully concede victory at partnering to my amazing kid sister. I know that she and Chris are going to have an amazing life together. They already have, for their entire adult lives. And she may be better at wifing than I ever have been or will be, but at 1 to 2, she'll never catch up to me in number of husbands! So there.



And now I get to begin a new movement in the semantics dance, as I try to decide what I'll call Chris. Brother-in-law doesn't feel quite right (the "law" part makes it feel to official to fudge), and "sister's husband" is kind of clunky. I'll probably end up calling him the same thing I call my father-in-law: Chris.

Lots to update. First, the relay.

Holy shit. I was not very well prepared for how difficult this would be. During the race itself, I was quite miserable and sent lots of texts to various loved ones requesting that they not ever let me do another one. But then as soon as it was over, I wanted to sign up for the next one. The things that were hard about this are things I can prepare for next time such that I won't be so miserable in the midst of it. And even with that misery, the memories I have from the weekend are pretty spectacular. So I definitely want to do more of these events. It was really fun, even while simultaneously excruciating.

The last few days, I've mostly just been home recovering. I'm still quite stiff and sore (those hills!!!), but I'm almost completely better, I think. This morning, I got up to come to work, and McKenzie notified me that he had a request to work this year's Bermuda sectional. Apparently the director who usually does it is ill and won't be able to make it. Sounds like it's the kind of ill that isn't expected to improve, though we lack details, so that's not really clear. Anyway, this is obviously a great offer for Z, except...it's the same weekend as Emily's wedding.

My first and very strong reaction was of course you can't skip the wedding. But then I thought about it some more and waffled. A lot. I definitely want McKenzie at the wedding. McKenzie wants to go to the wedding, too, which is an important point in all of this. But picking up Bermuda would mean a likely foot in the door to do this sectional every year. And in future years, I'd be able to go, too. So there's that. Also, the per diem for Bermuda is huge, so it would be a non-insignificant financial windfall. While we can argue that it would be a sound career move for him to pick up this tournament, really what it boils down to is that we'd both love to go to Bermuda more. And while that's certainly appealing, it's not a valid reason to miss the wedding. So after a lot of wrestling in my own mind, I told him no, he needs to come to the wedding. And he agrees. But he's really bummed right now. In the grand scheme of things, though, we both get to do a pretty awesome amount of pretty awesome travel, and we're both going to have a fucking excellent time at the wedding, so it's all good. Just such a bummer that this conflict exists, and came up with so little time to process it.

My parents get here on Friday, and we have a lot planned for their brief visit. Friday night we're going to see Tracy Grammer, Saturday I'm doing a run for Boston 5K charity thing that I'm going to try to make them all do as well, and then we'll fill Sunday through Tuesday with more family visits and Oregon sightseeing. Haven't landed on the specifics yet, though. I'm excited they're coming -- it's their first trip to Oregon since 2009.

I'm not to the point yet where getting older myself is a concern, but the indirect implications are what bother me. I'm a couple hours away from 30 now, and as the baby of my family, to turn over another decade feels like the whole family gets pushed older, you know? Mom and Dad are 40+ years older than me. If I'm 30, they're 70something. My brothers are middle-aged (holy shit). Of course, all this is no more true today than it was yesterday or a few months ago, it's just a bit starker, I guess?

When I was younger, I used to be able to count on a stream of birthday cards beginning sometimes many weeks before my birthday. My grandmothers, nanny, great aunts, and other matronly caregivers in my family prided themselves on being ahead of schedule. When Virginia Page died last week, the last of my early birthday wishers moved on. There is almost no one left from my grandparents' generation; none of the family I have been closest to. No one remains in the generation above my dad on that side, and my mom has one uncle, the youngest, left from that family of seven siblings. None remain on my maternal grandfather's side. This isn't sad -- all these people would be disturbingly old if they were still around -- it just is. It sucks to say goodbye, and it sucks to miss better times, but I'm generally okay with the fact that people age and eventually die. Lots of people die before they get to age very much, so there's a bit of luck in making it this far anyway, but I guess what I'm trying to say is the thing I dislike about getting older/time passing is the increasing inevitability of the end. Not for me, but for those older than me, the ones I'm not ready to say goodbye to and start missing. I'm not terribly sentimental about birthday presents and cards and such, but this is the first year in my life when I didn't get one of those ridiculously early ones, and that struck me as a kind of subtly colossal change.

I did save the last letter Virginia Page wrote me. She knew it was the last one, and she was basically collecting her final thoughts on scrap papers, as she didn't have the energy to string too much together at once. I believe this was written on a piece of a page-a-day calendar. The front has an image of a mother hugging a child, and a quote that says "Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third." VP picked up from that on the back and wrote:

"But how difficult to understand all the time. One thing I do know, it has been a treat to have your notes and love and to watch you grow. Thanks for the gift of care and attention you've given me. Love, Virginia Page."

I'm so glad I took the time to be pen pals with her over these last few years. We're not related, but she is a true Massie family treasure, and I'm going to miss her like crazy. I'm glad, too, that she got to see me grow, twice as old as my grandmother witnessed. It was so special to me each time VP mentioned that I reminded her of Margaret (my grandmother and her best friend). There is no higher compliment, and I'm glad that 15 years past Marma's departure, those closest to her still find me living by her example. (She didn't say "fuck" as much, but she did teach me the "beans, beans, they're good for your heart..." rhyme. Scandalous enough for a Southern lady born in 1908.)

In so many ways, a person never outgrows being the baby of the family, but the next generation is filling in quite nicely, and I'm enjoying something of a position of wisdom and authority with my nieces and younger cousins. In fact, nothing has been more rewarding to me than playing the role of aunt. And I'm getting much better at it with each passing year. Aging is a mixed bag, I guess, but I'm still in the upswing, and I'm optimistic that I can continue to find examples of upswinging as I get older still. I'm not ready to think about everything that will come with being 40, but one thing I know will be awesome is that Lucy will be a young adult. I will take her on a trip for her high school graduation, and we'll share amazing life experiences when she's older that a 9-year-old can't really appreciate. I don't need to press fast forward, but I know that time in her life is going to be special for me as her aunt, and I welcome it. Emily will probably have a kid or two by then as well, and I'll be their aunt, too. And that's just fucking awesome.

So, hello there, 30. 

I've been pretty sick all week.  Dr. Facebook says it's the flu, but I haven't had any of the stomach issues that are a classic sign of the flu, so I don't know if that's true or not.  In any case, I'm finally getting a little better now.  Sleeping basically this entire weekend has been pretty great.  I was really stressed out that being sick would get in the way of my training for the half marathon, so even though I still feel like turds, I went on my scheduled 5-mile run today after not training any since my long run last Sunday.  It went just fine.  I felt okay while running and explored some new parts of my neighborhood that turned out to be quite lovely.  Someone down the street from me has a huge stained glass window of Mt. Hood.  I'm a little jealous.

My mom has been keeping me updated on Virginia Page.  VP has decided she's not going to fight whatever it is that's trying to take her, but she wasn't dying fast enough for her liking at the hospital, so she's at home, and she's pleased to be there.  Mom visited yesterday and arrived while VP and her pastor were playing cribbage and planning her funeral services.  This is a woman who has her shit together and is completely at peace with everything.  It's reassuring to know just how ready she is.  Kind of makes it moot for the rest of us to worry about it.  Mom and VP talked lots about family, and how we've always been each other's family, even though there are no blood relations.  (VP lives near Massies Mill, so she's surrounded by Massies, and she and my grandmother taught school together and were best friends.  Bess's middle name is Virginia, after VP.)  VP often points out how much I remind her of Marma, and every time she does it fills me with pride and sappy emotion.  When Mom left, she promised to come for another visit on Tuesday, and VP said "I hope you won't see me!"  She's not miserable about living at all, she's just ready to go and wants to get on with it.  It really is a blessing as a survivor to know that those leaving you behind are at peace.  

It's hard not to cry about it, even so.  I really love her, and I'm going to miss her.

When my grandmother passed away nearly 15 years ago, my aunt Coo said to me, "Meg, she loved you so much.  You were so special to her."  I did know that, but it was still nice to hear (and remember so long after).  But it meant something extra to me not just to know that she held me dear, but to know that others knew so, too.  One day, FSM-willing far in the future, when I am gone from this earth, my nieces will be certain that I loved them more than anything.  Not just because I will have shown them so through all of our time together, but also because everyone who knows me will know what joy they give me.  And when memories are shared, the thing that everyone will say about me is that I was born to be an auntie, and I cherished the job.

If you don't know that about me, then you don't know me.

Here's to many years of sweet future memories.

I'm incredibly busy this week, with little time to stop and exhale, but I wanted to do a quick update before too many details slip away unrecorded.

I went to Seaside this weekend.  Hung out Friday night, ran six miles on Saturday, and played some darn fine bridge on Sunday.  5th overall and 1st in X on a team of entirely new partnerships (and fantastic people, I might add!).  I feel really good about that.  Beat the Lusky team by 20 in the final round.  Lots of good bidding problems from that day -- I'll do a separate bridge post with those if folks are interested.

Today and tomorrow I have WW training most of the day.  Learning computer things, and basically getting more involved in that job.  I like it.  My colleagues are such great people.  Everyone is genuine and friendly and caring...I think it comes from all experiencing the shared struggle of weight challenges.  

Last night I had a dream that Bess started talking, and one of the first things she said to me was "I love you."  When she said it, I absolutely wept.  I was just so overwhelmed with love for that little girl, and her big sisters, and all the other little ones in my life.  I miss my nieces, and my little cousins, and Jack, and I'm anxious for my other local friends to expand their families (if that is their desire) so that I can have more little people to love and dote on.  I know this sounds strange from the woman who once so vehemently declared hatred of children, and I know this major shift in attitude will only egg those on who say I will one day change my mind about motherhood, but even though I've gone from "get that thing away from me!!" to "aww do you mind if I cuddle your infant and smother it with kisses?!" my attitude about parenthood is firmly unchanged.  It's just not something I want at all.  I know there's something really rewarding about the love between parent and child, but I'm honestly perfectly fulfilled with the love I have for my nieces -- even though I know they're too little to understand how much they mean to me, or for me to mean all that much to them.  

One of the things that sticks out from when my grandmother died, more than any of the pain or sadness, is what my aunt Coo said to me.  "Meg, you were so special to her.  You have no idea how much she loved you."  It's true.  I didn't know.  I knew she loved me, but I didn't realize just how meaningful getting to grow up sharing a home with her was.  I'd like to think I didn't take it for granted, but I certainly didn't fully appreciate how special it was to have that situation, and such a loving environment with parents and grandmother all under one roof.  I know it's rarely so harmonious for others.  I can't pretend to know what the love of a child or grandchild must feel like, but I think it's safe to assume, at least among Massies, that it's a pretty intense feeling.  Probably stronger than love of a niece or nephew -- and I honestly cannot imagine that I'm even capable of loving anyone more than I love those kids.  So now that they've come along, many years after Marma's passing, I am starting to wrap my head around my aunt's words to me.  I'm so glad she gave me that to think about.  And I hope one day my nieces understand just how much I adore them, but I doubt they ever really will, and that's okay.  

Anyway, sappy sappy sappy...my grandmother was awesome, my nieces are awesome, I'm really lucky.  That's all.

Last weekend in Charlottesville was awesome.  I found out near the last minute that Emily was going to be in town for one overlapping day.  I hadn't seen her since Thanksgiving, and for Z it had been over a year, so it was great how that worked out.  Then on Sunday morning, Kelly posted to Facebook that she needed help unloading her moving truck at her mom's house -- she'd driven down that day from Ann Arbor.  So that morning, Chris, Emily, Z and I went hiking, and that afternoon, all of us minus Chris went to Kelly's, met her boyfriend Dave, and helped her move her shit.  I hadn't seen Kelly in like two years.  It was such an awesome coincidence that we were all in town at the same time, from all different parts of the country.  My cousin Allan from Baltimore also made an appearance...it was just a great weekend full of great people.  

We left early yesterday morning for Gatlinburg, and arrived around 2pm.  It's just like I remember it.  I went to some of my favorite little cheapo gift shops to buy some cheapo jewelry and whatnot (also got an awesome jewelry display for necklaces and earrings, but it's not big enough to hold my whole collection, so that's something I still want to get soon -- I'm thinking it would actually be a pretty simple DIY project once I get home...).  I saw Ahren a few times, but he seems in no mood to acknowledge me.  He's got a killer mustache these days.  I'd love to talk to him and give him a hug and find out how he's doing, but I kind of don't think he'll ever be cool with that again.  My mom talked to him a bit, though.  

I played the evening session with my mother.  It was okay.  48%...some silly things happened, and there's a longer blog coming from this experience, so I'll save it for later.  We're just playing the afternoon side game today, because she has evening plans and I didn't feel like waking up early enough to do the 9am as well.  I'll use my free evening to go to the gym, since I didn't get there this morning.

Tomorrow I have a phone interview with someone from Weight Watchers.  I'm pretty stoked about that -- wish me luck!