Cancer Sucks

 I thought last year was bad, losing my cousin, GSG and an American hero from World War II who I grew to love. His wife even said they considered me part of their family.

But this year sucks even worse.

Last year, out of my big three losses, only GSG died of cancer.

This year, quite a few didn't have cancer. This one did.

The latest casualty of that f'ing disease was this morning. He had a biospy (brain) last Friday and all his friends were looking forward to the results and his action plan so we could help him get through it. This morning his girlfriend posted on Facebook that he passed. The only good thing is that it happened quickly. The thing he hid from his friends is that he had lung cancer, which metastasized to his brain. We thought it was just the brain. 

Holy crap, I'm sad. We'd only been friends for about 10 years but this hits hard. I do feel lucky that we had a brief chat about music on Sunday. Selfishly, I'm happy that he mentioned me in one of his last Facebook posts.

 Bruce, Betsy, Dan, Harrijane, George (did have cancer), Mike, Jeff, Missy, Jean, Roseanne, Sharon. And this doesn't even include parents and spouses of friends who I wasn't independently friends with. Nor does it include the Sisters who have died since I started working for FSA.

No more, please.

A Hallmark Movie Christmas Senior Style

 If ABC can do "The Golden Bachelor," I can do this. 

It's just going to be a short story. I really do not like Hallmark Christmas movies because they truly do all have the same plot. My plot will be similar, ironically, but with a "senior style" difference. 

The idea came to me as I was thinking about a Christmas scene in another short story I'm writing. I realized the scene I had in my head didn't completely fit into that story. So, aha! I thought of another story for that scene.

We'll see what happens.

And, once again, GSG is my "model" for the male main character. 

I didn't realize until a few months ago how much I needed to write, and how much I needed to write about him. 

Serendipity?

 

Serendipity is not exactly the right word, but it's my favorite word so that's why I'm using it.

As I've said a couple of times recently, GSG is my inspiration for many stories, including "Joe" in my Joe & Gina stories, which I continued last month after taking many years off. On the same day I finished this year's NaNoWriMo project GSG's sister wrote a Facebook post about him. She hasn't posted about him since Christmastime last year.

Coincidence is probably a better word, but serendipity makes me think GSG had something to do with it. I want to believe that he was sending me a message through his sister. Usually it's through dreams or things I see on walks. So, he's changing it up a bit. Fine with me.

Winner, Winner

 

Not only did I figure out whodunnit, I found a way to write it and I finished my NaNoWriMo novel. First time I've hit the 50,000-word goal in almost 20 years. 

The thing about finishing this year is that I haven't written about Joe & Gina since, I believe, 2005 or so. GSG was my inspiration for the Joe character, and he pissed me off so badly that I couldn't write him anymore. But, after a series of events, I wasn't pissed at him anymore and thought maybe I should try to write Joe & Gina again as kind of a little memorial to him. (I'm so glad I didn't kill him off in a tragic golfing accident, which I planned to do when he angered and hurt me so badly.)

Getting started wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, but it wasn't all together easy. As I got into it, though, their personalities came back, and it felt as if I was visiting old friends. 

In the dedication for the second book, I thanked GSG and told him he had my undying gratitude. Now, even with his death, I'm still grateful. I couldn't have done it without him.

Whodunnit?

 

Writers, especially NaNoWriMos, will get this. I'm 70% finished with my "novel" but I don't know who the killer is yet. It's one of two people but I'm not sure which one. They both have similar motives. I'm just not completely sure which one could actually do the deeds. I hope I can figure it out in 3 days and 15,000 words. We'll see, I guess.

Inspiration

The nine Muses of Greek mythology were goddesses who ruled over the arts and sciences and offered inspiration in those subjects. That's why we traditionally think of women as muses. But, more and more, people are beginning to realize that a muse isn't necessarily a woman and could be anything from an animal to a favorite part of a park or garden.

My muse happens to be a guy. For a long time I fought the notion that he was my muse. But now I'm doing NaNoWriMo and bringing back a character, based on him, that I invented more than 20 years ago. The words and ideas are flowing like crazy and I'm even ahead of my word count goal.

But it's not just that. I've already written one short story inspired by him and I'm nearly finished with another. A couple more, both inspired by him, are percolating in my brain. 

He helped me when he was alive. Seems as if he's still helping me now. 

As I told him many moons ago, "I told you that you have my undying gratitude. Now you have it in writing."

It Didn't Occur to Me to Mind

 "Dirty Dancing" was set in 1963. I turned 3 that year. In the beginning of the movie the main character says, "... when everyone called me 'Baby' and it didn't occur to me to mind."

I was thinking about that as I was running through some dialog in my head for the NaNoWriMo story I'm working on. I was going to have the male mc call the female mc "baby" as a term of endearment. Then I thought I know this character pretty well by now (I've written several stories with her as the mc) and she would not want to be called "baby."

Honestly, I'm kind of embarrassed that it didn't occur to me to mind for all these years. I kind of liked it when my boyfriends and husband called me baby. Maybe I wanted to, or needed to, be babied. But today the implications and possible implied meaning make me cringe.

Now to choose an actual term of endearment. Honey? Sweetheart? Love Muffin? The first two sound as lame to me as the third one. This may be the most difficult part of writing the story.

Be that as it may, I'm sure I'm not the only person whose favorite line in "Dirty Dancing" is "I carried a watermelon?"

Let's Do This!

 

Perception

 We often hear people talk about neighbors or friends of a person who has been arrested as a serial killer or pedophile or something else horrific. They say the neighbors and friends always talk about how nice and pleasant the criminal was and how shocked they were at this development, but "they" would say, "Oh he was an awful guy and I couldn't stand him. I'm not surprised at all."

I heard this yesterday on the radio as well as on a true crime show I was watching. In one case the perp was described as "kind, sweet ... would never hurt a soul ... would do anything for anybody."

Then I started thinking about my husband who was described the same way and in other glowing terms during his funeral service. He was all the things they said. But ... and this is a big "but" ... there was a side of him they didn't know.

That's the side that made me decide I had to leave. That's the side that had us living apart for more than 20 years. That's the side that he hid from everyone but me. Oh, lucky me.

Even his family and best friends have told me they understand and that they loved him but could never live with him. They don't even know the half of it. I assume that they assume it was his quirkiness (for lack of a better term) that made me leave. No. That enduring quirkiness is what made me stay for as long as I did. 

His friends and family apparently didn't know how mean he could be. Or at least they never talk about it. 

I will only give one example because it was the last straw and the action that made me realize I couldn't live like that anymore. 

I used to work a 3 to 11 p.m. shift. When I got home I would drink a cup of some kind of soothing tea. I would leave the cup and spoon in the sink. One night when I got home I opened the silverware drawer to get a spoon and found it empty. The next day I asked him about it. He told me he hid the silverware because he got sick of waking up to a dirty sink every morning. A dirty sink? A tea cup and a spoon?

I could give so many more examples, but I won't. I also know I wasn't perfect. The point is: Perception isn't necessarily reality.

Embarrassing

 This is a true story that was published in Woman's World magazine and they paid me $100.

After an eye doctor appointment, I was shopping for new glasses and, as you know, the selection process can be quite daunting. As I was looking at one wall of glasses I pointed to one pair and said to my husband, "Those are so ugly. Who would wear those?" I then heard a voice ask, "Can I help you?" I turned around to see the optician, who was wearing a pair of those ugly glasses.