Today would have been my eighth wedding anniversary.
I’m fully aware it is St. Patrick’s Day but eight years ago it was the only day that week with a sunny forecast prediction. It had nothing to do with the pints flowing at every local establishment. I just wanted beautiful weather for the “happiest day of my life”. I forgot to wish for both beautiful weather and a beautiful marriage though. Ooops. The little details really do matter. Sometimes they are not just minute details that can be overlooked without consequence.
So today as the city workers cleared up the snow from last night, I didn’t exchange a gift of bronze … I exchanged emails with my sister, website designer, an acquaintance and my mother – about spring cleaning, work and other dull things. Up until now, I don’t really like talking about it so I’m glad those that knew didn’t bring it up to me.
I remember when the divorce was officially finalized; it felt like part of me had died. Now it’s a memory brought to the front of my mind every year only because it happens to fall on a well celebrated holiday here in Manhattan. If I was married on September 3rd or March 4th, I’d hardly ever think about it. I’m pretty sure of it. Instead I’d just make sure I was perfecting the corned beef and cabbage lunch in the kitchen. After all, my maternal grandmother was born on the Emerald Isle. lol
“Hearts and thoughts they fade… fade away” – Pearl Jam
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I’m hungry, I’m thirsty, I’m losing my mind. Everything’s fine.
OK so I’ve taken a little liberty with Tracy Bonham’s lyrics but (get ready for the whine),
I really want some sushi and a glass of wine. Make it a half bottle. At this point, I’d be head over heels if leftovers of day old Go Sushi maki and a water cooler paper cone cup of the JetBlue exclusive wine Best Cellars Just Sauvignon Blanc was offered to me.
See I’m more than willing to compromise because I fully realize beggars can’t be choosers. I don’t need Nobu Matsuhisa to make a house call with Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. Give me something that resembles a fermented grape but just give it to me already.
“It can all be yours in a few short weeks” you say? Have patience my dear cancer.
Fine, imaginary voice of reason conjured in my “shouldn’t be blogging this early” mind to represent what all of the well meaning individuals would say if I whined about sushi and wine in real life. Clearly they wouldn’t remember Cancers are known for their remarkable lack of patience.
Someone please make sure my order is ready post haste after this highly anticipated (and for the record: never going to happen again) debut. If I’ve been a good girl patiently (for the most part!!!) waiting forty weeks, it better be for some high quality toro.
Throw in a venti sugar free vanilla non fat latte as dessert and you will really know how to make this girl happy. 
And now I promise to cease whining out loud and go back to doing my very own personal form of no one hears me because I’m alone in my bedroom type of karaoke to Yoko Ono -
O’oh, Central Park,
O’oh, Evening Skyline
while looking up from the laptop screen to see rightfully pissed off women singing their overly made up selves off on VH1. (See mister cab driver who got lost taking me over to see Tracey, I really do watch the channels I appear on. Don’t ask.)
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While driving my car not too many years ago, I would turn up whichever of the songs on the radio that had me declaring “this is my favorite song” to a level which would cause cars on the highway six cars back to be able to listen to the lyrics of Better Than Ezra or Nikki French (depending on who was in the car with me) right along with me.
But now at home, I’ve turned into the old woman living downstairs from a couple, irked by noise and resorting to using her broomstick handle to knock on the ceiling so they know to “turn that music down”.
What has become of me?
My kids couldn’t possibly be watching television on a volume level that’s bad but yet I find myself turning down the television volume with an expression of annoyance on my face. I went from a cool mom to a mom who is a great grandmother in a young woman’s body.
Next stop, nursing home.
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