Sinister: It's December and I'm cold

[MyMomSays at xxx.com]

    Half of yesterday was wonderful.  I went with close friends off to the 
big city to look at records and eat food.  My sisters and my friend Nicole 
ended up dining at a gimmicky mexican restaurant called "Casa Bonita": it's 
quite an odd place--it looks like a historic building, but it's located in a 
strip mall. Odd juxtaposition.  I think I've posted about it before, a long, 
long time ago, when I first joined the list.  On the drive back we all had a 
very weird conversation--about dreams, about the disappointment of never 
being able to be anyone else--and mainly about this strange sinking feeling, 
a nostalgia of sorts, like a longing to be outside of your own body--I've had 
this feeling ever since I was a kid, it leaves as quickly as it comes, but it 
seems to be indescribable.  My older sister told us all that as a child she 
referred to this feeling as "the pear."  I thought that was interesting.  
>From now on, even though as I've gotten older I have this feeling less and 
less, I will constantly think of eating a pear whenever I feel it again.
    For those of you who are interested--I found out that in the latest issue 
of "Open City", Stuart David has an article/story (not sure what it was, I 
only got a chance to glance at it)--but, anyhow, it looks interesting. Go 
Stuart, good job on your success in getting published!
    So this conversation in the car seemed to be somewhat of a precursor of 
things to come.  When I came home I discovered that after a four-month 
struggle, my dog died.  I keep seeing a phantom Reggie, keep expecting him to 
toddle into my room and settle down to sleep in a pile of dirty clothes. But 
he's not here. I had to keep myself occupied today so I wouldn't have to 
think of it.  I know that I'm an adult and that I shouldn't get so emotional 
about a dog, but I can't help it. He was like a person to me; I mean, christ, 
I loved that dog.  Sometimes he seemed to understand me. I feel so schmaltzy 
saying all of this, but it's true.  I will miss calling him by his various 
nicknames--Reggums, buddy, baby, snowball, snowwy, ol' powderhorn, big 
fella--gosh, and I will miss the strange noises my dad makes whenever he sees 
him, my dad does something to the effect of a screaming baby talk, "OOOOOH! 
BIG FELLA! LOOK AT THE BIG PUPPY!"  But mostly, I think I'll miss hanging out 
with Reggie at the top of the steps where he'd always sit.  And as he'd see 
me walking up the stairs, he'd do his stretched-out-anticipating wiggle.  
    So, rest in peace big fella. You certainly made my life better.

    Oh--special props go out to Youn, who may be the only person who reads my 
posts. 

    Oh--and also--for those of you who are to receive Xmas gifts from me: I'm 
sorry I was so slow in sending them out. I promise you, they are on their 
way.   They will have to be New Years gifts and not Xmas ones.

    thank you,
    mandee  m a y
    
    
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