Fireworks

Another busy day. Up at a little after 7; didn't get out the door until nearly 9:30 and I'll be darned if I know what productive stuff I did in that time. I have so much trouble getting going in the morning. I worked in the office, ran to the train, the gym, home. Talked to JoyceFrances. She is sad Natasha won't be waiting table (there's only one) at her next underground dinner. Ate a snack. Worked until 7:45. Had dinner. Washed dishes. And just now got off the phone with L, who is watching the Somerville fireworks, which I can hear from apartment but cannot see.

I sometimes feel, and especially in the rain, like I'm on a ship in here, a bit belowdecks, because even though I'm on the second floor, I can't really see the sky. There are buildings and trees in the way.

Listening to fireworks from my apartment makes me feel lonely.

Switcheroo

I worked in an office for four hours today, for the first time in more than a year. Maybe two.

My main concerns were that I would get lost, which I did, and that I wouldn't be able to find anything appropriate to wear. I managed to scrape something together and discovered it's very casual dress there. But is it shorts, fuzzy Tevas, and t-shirts casual? Mmmm, prolly not. But I can handle it.

The work, also, is daunting. Medical writing. For doctors and nurses. I've got a few books about obstetrics to look at. Mind you, I don't need to know this stuff inside and out; it's more that I need to translate it into a specific format.

Anyhoo it's a trial gig, part-time, contract.

In other McPolack news, I am really wiped out.

In happier news...

...Dr. Moo got engaged yesterday. I am to be maid of honor. Though at this point I am teetering toward spinster of honor.

First I told her to get a manicure and take a photo of her hand with the ring so I could post it here. She said no. Then I said, wait, even better -- take a picture of your normal, poop-under-the-fingernails unmanicured hand with the ring.

She hasn't done that yet.

Still, congrats to Dr. Moo!

On the cousin front, memorial services are set for this friday, at the rink he played hockey at, and then at the zoo he worked at.

Tyler

As the name of this blog conveys, there is some Irish Catholic in my blood. It's actually that side of the family that I've spent the most time with, and while we don't see each other every day, we are all still pretty tight. I grew up spending every Sunday until I was 16 at my Grammy Mc's house, playing with my cousins, and, in some cases, my cousin's kids.

Tina, the youngest child of my oldest auntie, used to get thrown in the pool every year at her mother's house, which was in the same town as my Grammy Mc's house. I was, interestingly, thinking of her on Saturday and hoping nobody would throw me in the pool. (I ended up going swimming anyway, only to have cousin Steve say, every time he swam by me, "I just went to the bathroom.")

Tina has two kids of her own. I've written about Tyler, her oldest.

And now I am writing about him again, because he was killed, yesterday morning, in a car accident in Maine. There were a couple of teeny articles about it online. OK, there were five teeny news articles online, which I kept reading, over and over, because you never think something is going to happen to you or someone you know until it does, and then you are astonished.

I feel so sad for his immediate family. I know how close they were. I remember talking with his little sister at his high school graduation party. She was saying how much she was going to miss him, and he was just going away to an in-state school. His mom is one of my favorite cousins. She has lots of sass. I remember when she was dating Tyler's dad. I remember their wedding, which they invited all us kids to. It was around the time that a lot of my older cousins were getting married. It was a joy to be there. It's pretty much always a joy to be around my extended Irish brood.

And now we'll be gathering for something that's pretty much the opposite of joy. I would just like to ask everyone to pray for Tina, Jim, and Libbi, Tyler's mom, dad, and sister. I will be praying for them, too. And give all the sweet, smart-mouthed boys around you extra-long hugs.

Sobering Realization

This Saturday is the annual McPolack 4th of July extravaganza. For many years, the extravaganza has been held in close proximity to a swimming pool. When I was a wee one, I spent hours and hours and hours in the pool. I only got out to eat.

I did not get out to go to the bathroom.

Now that the kids I used to swim with have kids of their own, all I can think when I see those kids with their kids, floating and splashing and playing in the lovely inground pool at the McPolack homestead is pee pee pee pee pee pee pee.

And if they've got a diaper on, number two.

I no longer swim on the 4th of July.

Further Thoughts on Fowl

In yesterday's post I mentioned a relative who'd drowned a rooster. In her defense, this is the only rooster she's ever drowned. She beheaded all the others. When I told her it was really mean to drown a rooster she told me "Oh, birds have brains like fish. Want to know what it's like to be a rooster? Close your eyes and look at the overhead light. They can only sense shapes."

I wasn't buying it. If you can sense shapes, you can sense a bucket of water.

Naturally, PolackPappy had to chime in with a story of his own. The Babcia's mother, a true immigrant (she came here around the turn of the last century at 17 to get married), would buy 25 chicks every Easter, raise them to teenagerhood in the bathtub of her Southie triple-decker, then send them to the farm in NH. For 25 weeks in a row there was fresh chicken for Sunday dinner, nearly through Christmas.

Pp and his brother were in charge of dispatch. One year, they were down to the last bird -- a rooster. There was freshly-fallen snow. They took that rooster to the front yard, chopped off his head, and immediately tossed him up into the air where, wings-a-flappin, arterial spurt a-spurtin, he sprayed blood in wide arcs all over the place.

Dee-lightful. That tale was followed up with one about Pp's pal Lester, who used to nap under an apple tree in the backyard with a pistol in his lap, so he could shoot woodchucks. Lester was out plowing one winter's eve when he hit a deer, nearly decapitating it. Not one to waste fresh meat, he got out his trusty sharp knife and field-dressed it. Later he heard cop cars go screaming by his house. "What's going on?" he asked a neighbor.

"Someone's been murdered up the road. There's blood everywhere but no body," said the neighbor. Lester got back in his plow truck and headed out to let the police know what had really happened.

Jesus Update

Last Saturday I went to my first group reunion, which is part of what you do after you go on a retreat like I did. I actually used to attend this reunion as a child, but wasn't a participant. It's the one my parents have been going to since 1983.

I really enjoyed it. First we prayed together, then everyone got to chime in with their own individual requests for people or situations or people in situations. Then the hostess read something and initiated a discussion. This went on for about an hour or so. I was given a rose and welcomed in and some mention was made about how, 26 years from now, maybe I'd be in a long-running group. But not with them. Because they'd probably all be dead.

Then we held hands, prayed, hugged, and the dirty-joke portion of the evening began. People kept apologizing, and I was all, "Um, I remember this part." The difference is that now I get the dirty jokes.

Also we had snacks. You haven't lived until you've sat at a table full of folks who have known you since you were nine, eating carrot sticks and listening to your father tell a dick joke. Followed by your first cousin once removed telling you about the time she drowned a rooster for crowing too much.

When I got back to the McPolack homestead, McMumsy went to bed, and PolackPappy brought Harry the Wonder Chinchilla into the bathroom. I let him nibble on my hair while I ate mango sorbet.

Anyhoo, I hope I can find something like what my parents have around here. We'll see.