Curt Eric Humphrey

July 6, 1963 - February 16, 2009
Rest in peace, pal. Wherever you are, I hope there is a good chess game.

*******
Sorry to be kind of mysterious. Of course there is a whole backstory but Curt was a private kind of guy and I don't know how much to spill, especially right now, so my best bet is to say he will be missed, and to shut up. Oh, and that he was a great guy. With a great laugh. Smart as hell. Married to a very good friend. Ok, enough.

Stop me if you have heard this before

I tried to figure out if I have posted this story before, but the blog search feature here is pretty dysfunctional. If you have heard it, just smile and nod along as I do every single day of my life at my folks's house.

(Today it was the one about the time that George the short-order cook threw a guy out of the restaurant for ordering a hamburger at breakfast time. For some reason, that story really tickles my Dad's funny bone. I hear it on average once a week).

The Story of Max

I was volunteering at the animal shelter when a nice-looking college-age young man came in looking for a lost cat.

He described the big fluffly white Persian cat and said that it belonged to his girlfriend, who was at college on the East Coast. Her parents had called her about a week after she got to school and told her that her cat had disappeared and they presumed it had been eaten by coyotes, since they lived out in a rural area.

His distraught girlfriend refused to believe that the cat was dead, and had sent her faithful boyfriend out looking. He posted flyers all over and decided to check the shelter.

"That sounds like Max," someone said, upon hearing the cat's description.

"Max?" the boyfriend said. "That's weird, my girlfriend's cat was named Max."

Yes indeed. The cat was not lost. The parents had turned Max into the shelter as soon as their daughter had hit the road for college. Though the daughter loved dear Max, the parents were not fans.

So now the boyfriend had a quandry. Should he reunite his girlfriend with her beloved pet and let her know that her parents were evil liars, or should he leave Max at the shelter?

He chose to take Max home with him, and to tell the girlfriend.

And she chose to NOT confront her parents. Why? Because she was afraid? No, because, she said, she was saving that evidence for a time when she really needed something good to lord over her parents.

West Coast Blog Thing

Despite the fact that BlogHer is the pinnacle on my annual social calendar, I'm not going.

Airfare is almost $600, y'all! Plus 3 night hotel plus BlogHer pass at coupla hundred...plus my Master Plan to Become Debt Free.

Can't do it. I will be back in 2010, Goddess willing.

So how about an alternative West Coast Blog weekend? Somewhere airfare-free. I am thinking just a get-together, no panels, no classes, no learning, lots of hugging.

Here are my questions:

1. Same weekend as BlogHer or something different?
2. Where?
3. Would you come?

I have all kinds of crazy ideas rattling in my brain including:
A big cabin that sleeps 35 in Big Bear
Rent a bunch of RVs (or get them comped because we are so cool) and party at some group campsite
The 3 day Ensenada cruise (runs about $400 pp)
Hotel with a big pool/bar area

Any help, suggestions, ideas are appreciated. Christopher, I KNOW you can steer me right!

Everybody's talkin' at me

I have spent most of my life not being very good at communication. I either say too much or too little or make assumptions or put my foot in it.

I don't know if it the phase I'm in or what, but every single day I learn something about communicating that I did not know before. When I look at my family background, my role models, is it any surprise that I feel like I am catching up at my late age?

My mom clams up if she feels she has been misunderstood. She goes into Silent Pout mode and retreats with tears in her eyes.

My dad? Also not much of a talker. He loves to tell stories but isn't big on the interpersonal touchy-feely stuff. Or the details. Here's last night's sample conversation:

Dad: Here. Turn off the TV.
(Hands me the remote. I don't think twice about this since he is blind and often forgets which buttons go to what. He is perpetually turning the sound up to SIREN LEVEL when he means to change the channel. I try pushing the button about 20 times. Nothing happens.)
Sb: I think this remote needs a new battery.
Dad: We put a new battery in today.
Sb: Maybe it is in wrong.
Mom: We looked at the little picture.
Sb: Let me see.
I take the remote to the kitchen to find something to pop the little lid off with.
Mom: Turn on some light!
Dad: What?
Mom: Turn on the light, she can't see!
Dad: A light?
Sb: It's ok
Mom: I don't know why she went to the kitchen.
Sb: I needed to get something to get the battery lid off with.
Dad: The light is right over there.
Sb: The batteries seem fine. Was it working when you put new batteries in?
Dad: No


OK then. Let us stop there. Would that not have been valuable information for me to know when he first handed me the remote? Can you see how differently the incident would have proceeded had he just said, "Hey, the remote doesn't seem to be working, can you take a look at it?" rather than "Turn off the TV"?

Every day I have to remind myself that many other people see more communication as comforting, not as "bothering" as I have grown up thinking. They LIKE knowing the details. They like being kept in the loop.

Next conversation, immediately following the remote control problem:
Dad: So you're taking me to the doctor tomorrow?
Sb: Doctor? Tomorrow? You don't have an appointment tomorrow.
Dad: Yes, at 4:15
Sb: No, that was last week.
Dad: No, I just made this appointment today because we didn't have anyone to take us this morning.

Ok, here we go again. How about "I made a last-minute doctor's appointment today for tomorrow. Can you take me?"But no. It is just "So you're taking me to the doctor tomorrow?" Sigh.

And no one had ever mentioned the appt he cancelled because he didn't have a ride, so I never offered to take him.

Learning. Every day I'm learning. By the time I'm 80, I might be good at this.

Sisters are doing it for themselves

I am not quite sure why making my own dog food seems so empowering.

It might be because I never thought I could make something so cheap and easy that would be so good for my dog...I trusted pet food manufacturers to know what was best and somehow did not trust myself.

Then came the melamine contamination, the problem that pushed me into super-premium pet food brands. Soon I was spending upwards of $3 per day on dog food.

I have been making Goldie's food for about 3 weeks. She loves it. I love to cook, so cooking for my dear girl isn't that onerous, even if it does contain ---ewwwww--- meat.

My only concern is that she likes it too much. When she was eating commercial food, she was always a diffident eater, often skipping meals, sometimes for more than a day.

Now she bugs me for food all the time. It's quite gratifying.

What's next? Laundry Soap.