I wish he were here to see it.

So it wasn’t like I was all wiggy about Father’s Day yesterday (for those of you who’ve just tuned in, my dad died last December. I miss him so, so much it’s hard to believe), since neither of us held with those kinds of forced holidays.

But I have been thinking about him, and more important than Father’s Day, rooting for the Celtics, who look like they’re gonna take it all this year. I heard the Celtics’ coach, Doc Rivers, lost his dad earlier this season, which makes me want to root for them all the more, since they said Rivers hasn’t really gotten a chance to mourn.

And today is Monday, and it’s kinda odd weather out, and I’m not feeling awesome, so I’m into comfort music: “Love’s In Need of Love Today” by Stevie Wonder, frex, and probably some of The Band after Stevie.

Later on I’ll get jazzed to do some revisions on the three chapters, the P-I-C gave me some crazy good feedback, so I gotta work on that, and then send onto another unsuspecting victim.

But first I have to cry a lot. But that’s okay; it just shows how much I love and miss him. Which, I am so happy to say, he knew.

Thank you, Celtics.

I love Kevin Garnett–he epitomizes what a star basketball player should be: unselfish, incredibly talented, determined. Plus he took my dad’s favorite team from the morass of failure to having the best win record in the NBA.

I watched Game 7 of the Celtics vs. the Hawks yesterday crying most of the time; remembering how Dad and I would watch Celtics games on the TV with the sound down and records on, eating Weaver’s Fried Chicken and Planters’ Peanuts (yes, we were both rather large at the time). Dad would have a Pabst Blue Ribbon and I’d have diet Coke. He’d tell me about the game, we’d cheer and talk about music, and life, and who got the last chicken wing.

I am so happy the Celtics won. I am so sad Dad isn’t around to see his team triumph, in the way Dad liked it–with teamwork. Here’s a quote from Garnett:

But I get enjoyment out of just being here and having the opportunity to come in every night and play. I have never been a personal stat guy. I have accomplished a couple of things, but I don’t think I am above anybody. I overlook all those things and focus on team accomplishments.

I am going to cheer the Celtics all the way to the Finals. I wish you were here to watch with me, Dad.

Angela asked, and I thought I’d recount it all here:

Dad’s 250K+ mile Toyota Tacoma needed some work, about 3K worth. His mechanic–an honest Cape Cod type–told him it might not be worth it to fix the truck. So Dad went car shopping. Mind you, I don’t think he had ever bought a new car (no, scratch that, maybe this yellow van we dubbed “The Banana Van,” which he subsequently just left somewhere because it had a light out, and payments due, and did I mention my dad had issues with bureaucracy? I really don’t know what happened to that van, except we used to have it, and then we didn’t), but this time, he was thinking of getting some brand-new.

Mr. Brand Loyalty went to the Toyota Dealership to test-drive something, and had to wait for the car guy to finish up with someone. He dropped his name into a bowl to be entered to win the chance to try to win a car (not the actual winning). It was some sort of radio station giveaway or something. Anyway, he got called to be one of a group of people to try his key in the car. His friend called prior to that and asked if Dad could help with some project or another on the fateful Saturday.

“Not between 10 and noon,” Dad replied. “I’ll be busy winning my car.”

He went to the dealership, stood in line, was 13th in line to try the key, and when he did, the engine turned over, the car started, and it was his. A 2007 Toyota Camry. It still has fewer than 10K miles on it. Yay Dad.

So I’m a smart person, I know that, and I should be able to handle everyday life. Right? Right. Okay. So I have to register my dad’s car in NYC, and I’ve printed out a rainforest’s worth of paper from the DMV site, and I still don’t understand just what I have to do, and I just know I’m going to be in a long line and some bored, totally over it desk person is going to tell me I didn’t bring the right stuff. It’s giving me agita even now, thinking about it.

But the car’s registration–shhh!–is expired in Massachusetts, and I want to get NY tags for it, so we’re all done and proper. It’s the car my dad won, so even if it weren’t, like, A CAR! I would have to keep it.

The car still smells like Dad, his truck (which my uncle has) even moreso, I bet. And all his clocks were set 11 minutes fast, so I am keeping the car’s clock set to that time.

The only comfort I can take from all this anxiety is that Dad was even worse about paperwork and bureaucracy and the like. Have I ever mentioned my parents had some serious issues with filing taxes? Yeah. Like that. So I take after him in more ways than the crinkly, almond-shaped eyes, flat feet and love of words.

Irish people find solace in whiskey. I’ve never gotten drunk by myself before, but tonight–there’s a first time for everything.

This is a weepy one. Don’t click if you don’t want my grieving details. And it’s fine if you don’t want to.
(more…)

Most people deplore Mondays. Not me. The Sometimes Difficult Spouse is back to work, the Wants To Play Electronics Most Of His Waking Moments Son is at school, and I am home alone. Bliss. I really need alone time to recharge, otherwise I get all kinds of stressed.

Today I went running. If by ‘running’ I mean moving faster than a briskish walk. Man, was I slow.

But of the SEVEN FREAKING POUNDS I gained since Dad died, I’ve lost two. So yay. More exercise and oatmeal in the future.

The Wire debuted last night, and is going to be all about an editor on the metro desk at a busy urban newspaper. Yeah, HBO, rub it in, my former editor on the metro desk at a busy urban newspaper Dad died. But it should be a fun season, and I kid, but I’m not really that solipsistic.

Speaking of which, solipsistic is one of MY favorite words. What are yours?

Megan
PS: Myretta, I know this file is HUGE, but then folks can see the details–does that make it okay?

If the most complex baking you do is putting frozen chicken cordon bleu in the oven, why do you have four rolling pins*?

Love,

Megala

*These are not the actual four, but a mere representation.