An Untitled Update

 John said “you’re going to play bingo tomorrow.”

I said “what?”

“BINGO. Tomorrow. With your grandmother.”

I finally remembered. “Oh, yes!”

I told my grandmother I would come over for bingo at the assisted living where she stays; they play on tues and fridays. They have trivia and other games and activities, even a cocktail hour (which I will not be enjoying, sadly). It’s things like that that keep life exciting, cut the edge on the boredom. For me it’s my crossword and connections puzzles and jeopardy; it tickles my brain. And of course this endeavor (I wonder how you say bingo in Spanish (that’s a trick question by the way)).

August heat has been unforgiving yet compassionate: I find whole body perspiration to be slightly cooling— there is a tinge of winter joy even in the blast of summer. This one has been doubly hot. It gives an excuse to take a second shower. It’s like starting the day over at 6 o clock. I get to redo my makeup, which has basically turned into a sweat paint on my sticky face. I can’t stick with one look or even one shade of lipstick (thank you dollar tree). Red is striking, but pink is soft and cute. I’m two different girls in one summer day. 

We are enjoying the company of three little kittens. Our adopted cat Dreamy had five, and we took three inside. Leo is a creamy tan boy (i assume), Patch is a gray kitten, with patches, of course, and Pip is a little black kitty. To say they are cute is an understatement. They’re playful and always hungry. I love having them. John says to take all the pictures I can now, while they’re small, cause they won’t stay that way. They never do. They will grow up but they’ll be our best friends since we’ve bonded with them. Leo is attached to John already; he sleeps with him. Patch is the big talker (I should have named her Jamie after Van Halen’s song). Pip likes to hide, but he’s a big fan of whipped cream. 

Yep, it’s a cat house. I love it. 

I’ve been on the dock a lot with the neighbors, and we all complain about the bugs. They are vicious. I alternate between bug spray and skin so soft, Avons secret bug repellant. I’m not sure if it works but it smells so good (It reminds me of my nana). So sometimes we burn, and John and I collect numerous cardboard boxes from sodas and cat food. It always spooks me when the embers flicker out, but I’ve yet to be burned. I think when it gets cooler we’ll have more fires, and it will feel nice then. I’m already collecting sweaters for when it gets cold. Like John tells me, “it’s not a fashion show!” but I still think it is.

I haven’t had any luck with work. I almost got hired by Volusia County schools, but the school that wanted me was in Ormond and I’m reluctant to drive that far. I would have been a paraprofessional. I don’t have experience for that, but the vice principal said I was “overqualified” (oookay). It sucks that I turned it down, but I’m sure something else, if not better, will materialize. I heard they’re building a Wawa on our end of town. That’s cool. 

I feel like I’m just journaling and not giving you something entertaining to read. I’m sorry. This is just an update.

I realize it’s been three months since my dad passed. It’s getting easier, but I’m still haunted by the way he died and being with him when it happened. It’s not consuming but it pops up now and then. I wish I would just remember the person he was. I wish I could describe to you the person he was— I can’t. I can only tell you he was a comedian, a fisherman, a guitar player and a music man, and an animal lover. To have him as a father, to know him as a person, and to love him…I will take all the sorrow that comes with that. It has to mean something. I’m positive we go on — in what ways I don’t know. All I know is he is not here on this earth, he is out there, somewhere, just as alive. And that works for me. It’s my own brand of hope, nurtured by faith.

And this will seem weird to say after talking about my dad, but I’m going to say it anyway… I found a new brand of cigarettes that I really like. They’re called Malibu menthol, and they’re about as good as a Newport, and that is saying ALOT. I don’t consistently smoke menthol anymore, but I like one now and then (or a whole pack). And these malibus are half the price of Newports: five dollars. I know most of you will think I’m wasting my money anyways. Iykyk (don’t be a hater). 

It’s about two o clock in the morning as I write this. I’m in the living room and John’s got something on tv while he sleeps. The kittens are awake like me. Since they are so small they need to be fed constantly. I stay up late usually, mostly cause I wake up late and it causes a cycle. Circadian rhythm is real. I wish I could catch a sunset. There is something invigorating about waking up with the earth. But nightlife is fun. Yet lonely. When Im writing I don’t care what time it is. 

But I got to get up for Bingo.