You have got to be kiddin' me

So Hollywood broke her neck. And I'm not even joking. But everyone thought we were. This is serious stuff people. Granted, the girls and I joke A LOT. And we joke about oh-so-inappropriate things. Yeah..there's that. But this one? This one is TRUE. Hollywood broke her freakin' neck.

Tuesday night, and I wake up like a shot. Sweat pours down my face and for a moment I'm late for class, or work, or....wait... No. It's midnight. I'm not late. I'm early. And there's a quick pull of fear in my belly. So I breathe deep and lay down. And I hear a gentle knock on my door. It's Sunshine.

"Tiff, can I come in? I need to talk to you."

She's calm. Too calm for midnight. Too calm for the fear I already feel.

She comes in. Her orange phone like a beacon light.

"Um, Something's wrong with Holly. I think she broke her neck."

(so for a minute the world stops turning, and all air ceases to move, and the only thing I can do is nothing)

"WHAT??????????????"

We didn't have a lot of information. Hollywood lives in Pennsylvania. We are here in Maryland. 2 1/2 hours away from our crazy broken necked friend. We'll wait for more information. So we wait. And we try to rest. And we don't know how bad it is.

In the morning we hop in the car and make our 85 mile an hour way to Abington hospital in Pennsylvania. On the way up we muse how she got herself in this predicament. Evidently she challenged the bottom of a shallow swimming pool, and the pool won.

At the hospital, we can't find parking. "What the fuck is wrong with Pennsylvania?"
We finally do. Then we find the ER. But she's not there. She's not in her room.

They are sweeping up her room.

"We're not sure if she's coming back."

(um, pardon me. but if you see two panicked girls, looking for their friend who broke her neck, please choose your words more wisely)

She was moved to a private room, one floor up. Sweet jesus. Sweet mercy. Thank you.

And we find her. I kiss her forehead and all she can do is grit her teeth and wince in pain.

It is that bad.

Hollywood, though, is the type of person that cultivates love and laughter anywhere she goes. She's surrounded by people who love her. And not that weird surface love either, the kind that ducks, and runs and is only around when it's convenient. No, she's got the real deal. And it's everywhere. And my God, she didn't have to break her neck for us to prove how much we love her. It's always there.

And as we always do, we try to make the best of a really scary, really big situation. We laugh, and make horribly tasteless jokes. Hollywood teases the nurses. We write down the funny things she says through her morphine haze. We talk about days past. We wonder why "Hot Doctor" is wearing those ugly shoes. We watch "Dennis the Menace" and Hollywood knows it by heart. (Did I tell you she has the soul of an 8 year old?)

She's been flat on her back now for 15 hours. She is in agonizing pain. I don't know how to comfort her other than to wet the cloth on her forehead. To hold her hand and tell her to squeeze when the pain screams.

Sunshine is a hive of activity. She's the information point. She's texting, and calling, and facebooking. She's on damage control. But the rumors spread anyway. And boy, it's amazing what people think up.

I'll take this time to tell you that sleeping, eating, and showering (along with the copious consumption of booze) are not permitted in hospitals. I swear. It's like they set up hospitals just for the sick people! How rude. But I digress.

Finally, on Friday Hollywood's husband arrived to take care of her. He's in the Army and had flown out to Texas the week before. He's a doll, and boy does he love that girl. I tell ya.

I came home late Thursday night. But I didn't want to. (that's another story). And I dreamed of her that night because I worry. And I'm still worried. But ya know what?
She's not dead. She's so goddamn lucky.

Oops

Did I ever tell you about the time I ordered into the trash can at Dunkin' Donuts instead of the speaker?

Or the time my friends pulled UP my skirt in high school in the hallway, or pulled DOWN my pants at the football game?

Or the time I dropped $200 in change at the bank. Pennies rolling everywhere.

Or the time I called someone at my old job "Mrs. Ladywoman" because I didn't know her name and panicked.

Or how about the time I locked myself out of my house, with no shoes, only a sports bra, on a 100 degree day, with a puppy and no leash?

Oh, how about the time I literally tripped on a banana peel in high school?

And then there was the time I broke my ankle, healed, and then broke it again the next day.

Yeah, I'm smooth like that.

Just Beachy

We spent the weekend in Ocean City. By day she's a mild mannered city lady, all warm sun, and families eating ice cream on her boardwalk. By night, she's a seamy temptress, flaunting her neon wares. Liquor here. Bad decisions there. She's loud, obnoxious, and purely sinful; a woman on the make.

But Cute Boyfriend and I had a tame weekend. We strolled the boardwalk perusing tiny, tacky shops, laughing knowingly at the 17 & 18 year old's knee deep in senior week revelry. So young.
I was there just nine short years ago- figuring out that messy arena of young adulthood, and sudden, shocking freedom.

Our weekend was sweet, and fun, and as most things with Cute Boyfriend are: simply lovely.

Friday the weather cooperated. We lay out on the warm sand, jumped over, and under cool ocean waves, and enjoyed the general goodness of a day off work spent together.

And then?

Then there was the buffet. A sexy, glorious, evil spread of food. Oh, the snow crab legs. And the cheesecake. My God the cheesecake. I could eat platefuls. We ate until we all but burst with the sheer gluttony of it all.

And then slept in a room noisy with air conditioning, the sky rumbling above us with a thunderous threat of weather to come.

The sun rose on Saturday, but just barely. Humidity sat heavy on everything; an ever present mistress of Maryland summer. So off we went to the outlets, and Cute Boyfriend got himself some new clothes, and shoes, and I oohed and aahed as he loaded my arms down.

It never did totally clear up- that nervous summer weather. So we showered, and went out late for all you can eat crabs, and beer, and a sunset that hung like a painting in the sky.

And when Sunday morning came we ate some breakfast, packed up and headed home. And like I always am, I was sad to say goodbye.

Real life has pressures, demands, alarm clocks, and bills. But vacation asks nothing. Just that you kick up your feet, and stay awhile.

"I just want everyone to go the hell away."
"I know, Mom."
"But they won't."
"Well they should."
"I just want them to go the hell away."

Leaving in a bit for Johns Hopkins. I take little comfort in knowing she's got the best doctors on her side. Because my Mom is still sick, and we want her well. Now. The LP (lumbar puncture, or spinal tap) is today. And it's painful. And it takes time to recover. And it's going to tell us exactly what's going on in her brain.

And me? I hope it's all a big misunderstanding.

*Ahem*

When a man speaks up, he's strong. He's forthright. He's confident.
When a woman speaks up, she's a bitch.

At work today a situation arose, and I felt an absolute need to make myself heard. And as soon as I did, I was the bitch. How can that be? Why aren't women allowed to speak up when we have the right to? Why are we met with defensiveness, behind the back talking, and hostility? And this is from other women 99% of the time.

I've experienced this with co-workers and friends. I wish that when I present myself and the issue to someone we could simply have a conversation and work it out maturely. But that rarely happens. And then real damage is done to relationships. And I don't know why.

Personally, I feel like it is my God (or allah, or the mighty universe or whatever) given right when I feel wronged, or hurt, or confused or that a child is being put in an unhealthy situation to speak up, confront, and make myself heard.

If I spend my whole life in silence. If I allow others to tread on me and make a mess of the parts of me that are happy, and strong- what good does that do? And if I allow them to do that to a child, or someone else, isn't that just plain wrong?

I've found of myself that I'm capable of 100% forgiveness. I mean it too. I let things go. Life is too short. Too important. Too frightful already to keep anger bottled up like precious wine. It's actually like having your soul marinate in spoiled milk.

I guess I'll have to be content with my Bitch title for now. Because I sure as hell am going to continue to stand up for the things that really matter.

The Party

There's this certain feeling I get when I'm driving home. It's like a mental deep breath. And I'm there, in that place where the ocean licks the rocks, and tractors set the pace of traffic.

Saturday morning started early. I headed to the gym. I was going to need energy for the day ahead. Saturday was our belated Bachelorette party for the one, and only Hollywood. It was also to be her going away party. Some years ago a nice guy named Mike came along and they fit so perfectly. And now he's in the Army. And they're moving to Texas. And a little piece of my childhood is going with Hollywood. In her suitcase. And I hope she unpacks me when she gets there. I'd like a nice spot on the mantle so I can watch over her. Not that she needs it. No, in fact, she's embraced the changes like champ. With a laugh and a lot of excitement. Scorpions be damned.

So, Saturday. I don't believe I own enough vocabulary words to define the 12 hour party that we were. We started with a Mother/Daughter brunch at Smokey Joes. During the decorating, a woman in a back booth continuously shot us dirty looks, at one point telling the waitress that she could barely get her attention with "all of this (gestures wildly at the tablecloth and leis) going on." Some people are so content in their misery. We went on with our decorating and soon Hollywood walked in. There were hugs all around, and the mimosas flowed. Old stories were traded. We grew up together. These four girls and I. These mothers watched us flourish together and apart. And there we were. History in the present. All back together for a celebration. And then came the cake. You must understand that none of us is what I'd call traditional. And so the cake (a glorious 33 cupcake creation of orange, green, and white) read: "Hope everything's bigger in Texas (except your drinking problem)." And it's a joke and we share it and laugh and cake is handed out and icing is just the best creation.

We take a few pictures and say goodbye to the Mom's and head out to get a trolley schedule. And here is where I will pause to tell you that this trolley is my new favorite thing. It's an old timey trolley that runs a circuit to all the waterfront bars your heart could desire. It's 25cents per ride. You can drink on the trolley. The music is loud, and impromptu karaoke is the only agenda while riding. So we met a man in a lime green shirt who just couldn't keep that shirt on. We met families with sweet, sleepy children. We met young girls and old men. We met, and met, and met. And we drank. Oh boy.

And see, there's this pair of dice. When you roll them they say things like "Dance with a tall guy" or "Hug a nerdy guy" and so on. So we rolled. And when Kristin's turn came it said "Kiss a hottie". And so she found one. And then, um, his girlfriend found them and she wasn't too happy with that situation. So there was that.

There was a walk over a short bridge. There was roadside crab dip eating. There was hitchhiking. There were reunions with everyone we went to high school with. And the bartenders at Skippers were sisters I used to babysit. How strange is that? I changed their diapers, now they're serving me beer.

There was peach moonshine. Some guy had a boat and free beer. We were thirsty. Then a mason jar came out. And some sweet, orange liquid flowed. Honestly? It was really good, and probably a bad idea, but my life has been really good and filled with bad ideas. So it's fine.

At some point during the night we lost sunglasses, a camera, the custom made beer coozies, and chapsticks. But as I think about it, it may be one of the last times we're all together like this. And the pictures are what I have right now, well they tell the story of 5 lifetimes, that ebb and flow like the rivers and bay we spent the night beside.

The party was an all day affair. It was hot and sunny and so freaking fun I want to do it again. I just need a few weeks to rest first.

And there's so much more to say, but I have to get to work. 8 days left.

It's ok

I like change.

With that being said: my last day at my job is June 26th. Hoo-freakin-ray! And? Well we're packing up and moving as well. Because, as I said, I like change. And it's all really, really, good right now.


(but keep my Mom in your prayers. because I'd trade it all to have her whole, and healthy)