Cheeks Spread

Must blog. Must write something.
I got a wax done yesterday, by a professional. The idea to do so was built on curiosity and the promise of finer regrowth. Two of my clients both had good things to say about Nell. I made an appointment a month ago and yesterday was the day. Full legs and Brazilian. Up until Friday afternoon, I wasn't completely sure what Brazilian all entailed. I knew it could mean all of the...front....but what about the butt hole?
Googled it. Yes, it means all. If you so choose.
Nell was great; low key (we could have been walking our dogs it was so casual), professional, warm. Of course, it means butt hole, too, but you decide where, when, how much. She didn't say "butt hole" (because, obviously, it's not the actual butt hole that's being waxed). She called it "booty". I liked that. It made me forget that when she spread my cheeks apart that she was near my butt hole.
The whole experience, on a Pain Scale was probably a 7 out of 10, with select areas being 5's and other areas being a m*ther f*cking 10. The worse part was the first strip taken near the top of the pubic hair, near the inner thigh, and the second most terrible area was, actually, the ankles (Nell said this is interesting-some people are fine with it, some are very sensitive around there). The easiest part? The booty. No kidding! I will even venture to say that it felt "nice"????
I am all about hair and where it ends up on us, it is natural and purposeful, but so is curiosity. I have also had my nipples pierced, which is why getting my ankles waxed seemed like no biggie. My nipples are free of jewelry now, curiosity settled, and my ankles will be hairy again, no doubt.

A Great Woman

We are leaving in an hour for Michigan to attend the services for my gramma. I have started the eulogy and actually feel that it will come together ok. It felt good to write it, to just write, almost as though I was telling her a story that she gave to me.

I don't need to wonder if she will hear it, I believe she's very close by yet and wants to catch these next few days. She was always comforting, clever, and intuitive. This made her a great woman.

Gramma

My gramma died last night around 8pm.
I spoke with my mom around 7:20pm, and then she called back to tell me that "it's over". My mom and aunt believe she went two days ago, but her body hadn't caught up yet. I'm grateful, curious, and feeling very sentimental. I wonder what she's doing now?

Sadness and relief are an interesting combination, but I'm thankful for both.

I called my siblings (those of whom have a way of contacting them) and we will see each other on Sunday for the services.

Thanks to everyone who cared, prayed, and wondered along with me.

Suffering

I'm not purposely trying to post such sad family tales, but I guess that's what's happening in my life regarding my family...my grandma is dying. My mom left me a voicemail last night to tell me that her kidneys are no longer working, her lungs are filling with fluid, and she is sleeping only because she's medicated.
Please tell me what this is supposed to teach us. Her suffering is unfair and unnecessary. She has been saying (when she was talking) how she wants to go, how she wishes God would take her, so what is the purpose of these final days? Is she supposed to do something more? Are we? Is someone praying to keep her alive because they can't see that she needs to die?

I was asked years ago, by my grandma, if I could write and give her euology. I feel this is a tremendous responsibility and honor, but I also felt guilty when I started working on it four years ago. I do feel I will need to work on it again very soon. I pray that I do.

Laughter

I have taken on my dad's ability to laugh nervously through tragic situations. He took a stern tone with me last night on the phone beause he thought I was scoffing at his prayer methods. You see, I have had it. I have had it with my brother being abusive and my dad's way of dealing with it is praying instead of kicking the rotten, low life out on his ass. I've had it with watching my dad sit in this fog of "I need to change him, I need to change him" after he's spit on my sister, punched a hole in the wall, and then goes outside to shoot his gun. I've had it. I'm done.

This weekend I am going home for my cousin's wedding. I'm a reader in this wedding (that's side info). Dad will be proud because I've been praying to my goddess that I will not have to read that subserviant wife reading that every Catholic wedding has to have. I will laugh out freakin' loud. What comes along with going home is having to decide whether or not I will actually Go Home, or if I will stay somewhere else. I've decided to stay with my sister at her place, but I will Go Home at some point to see my parents. My mom has told me that she's sure my brother won't be around if I'm there because "he doesn't like you". My chest puffed out immediately.

I'm just a bit of a wreck, but I've found myself laughing almost more than usual. It's not completely ungenuine either, it just doesn't sound like me. I have been hearing myself laugh and then wondering what was so funny. But it works. Nervous or not, it helps to hear yourself laugh.

Now I will end with a prayer; Please, God, Mother Earth, whoever is listening and can be most efficient, please let my brother get caught while transporting drugs. This way, we are pretty much guaranteed a good five years of not having to wonder if he'll spit on my sister again, and my parents can restore all the plaster in their walls. That would be nice. Also, thanks for giving me many things to laugh at. I truly appreciate it.