in memory of a friend

It's late. Usually I would wait to write until tomorrow, but this is too important. If I wait, I'll get it wrong. This I have to share while the tears are still fresh in my eyes.

Tonight I finished my book club book (told you I was old!) The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. The book is based in Seattle and seemed like a perfect pit for our club, entitled the Alleged Book Club...because really we're there for the company, the food (catered!), and the champagne! The never-ending train of champagne! I digress....
The book is told from the perspective of the man's dog - Enzo. He is a philosophical canine whose eloquence for all things racing held my attention into the wee hours of the morning. See his owner, Denny, is a race car driver who suffers an insufferable tragedy. Partly at the hands of lawyers. But this post isn't necessarily about Denny and Enzo. This post is about Lindsey, Ian, and Brandy.
She was my best friend (oh no...here come the tears again). As a child, I was the loud one. the attention getter. the annoying kid who wouldn't shut up. But for all of the attention that I got from my behavior, I had very few friends. I had Karina Pickett and Danielle Smart. And then Stephenie Blair. I'm sure I had more than I thought I did. But as a perfectionist, I wanted everyone to like me. Naturally I failed. I had friends. But there was no one, NO ONE, like Brandy. My beautiful red-tinted golden retriever with endless patience for the child with too much energy. She would lay with me when I was tired. Hell, she would let me lay on her when I was tired! She never got tired of my games, my outfits, and my tent/forts in the wreck-room. With her big, only-goldens-have-it smile, she was my shadow. Mom and Dad got her for Ian and I when I was four and he was 6. She was with us until I was 17.
I can remember how excited I got when it was my turn to have her sleep in my room. Ian and I took turns. As the quite child, I'm sure Brandy preferred Ian's organized living. But I like to think that she enjoyed my chaos every other night. See, I've always been a night owl. After Mom and dad would tuck me in, the real fun would begin! Brandy and I would play with my American Girl dolls. Making up stories that always included us as the main characters. duh. (not much as changed eh?) When I finally tuckered us both out, We'd pass out on my twin bed: me under the pink comforter Mom made me; Brandy on top of the covers. As the night progressed, my sleeping space would slowly and methodically be invaded by Brandy's warm body, until finally she had taken over the entire bed and I waved the white flag of defeat. I wish Mom had counted all of the times she discovered me asleep on my floor covered only by my white baby blanket (which is currently draped around my shoulders as I type this). It was bliss and I couldn't be happier.
Through the loneliness, there was brandy.
Through the confusion and hurt I experienced from moving houses (like...3 blocks), there was Brandy.
Through my "grueling" 3 mile runs, there was Brandy.
Through the ecstasy of my first boyfriend and finally fitting in at school, there was Brandy.
For the good and the (significantly less frequent but significantly more important) bad - I had a friend.

It broke my heart when she could no longer race around with Ian and I. Ian was stronger than I. He buried her next to our garden with her leash and her tennis ball on the day of his high school graduation. Even my "if you have to cry go outside" Dad (who's really the biggest teddy bear of us all) cried. She was my best friend.
I still miss her. And I'm still crying. Enzo said that when a dog is done with it's "dogginess" it comes back as a human. I hope someday I'll get to shake her hand: female to female, and tell her how much it meant to me that she listened to all my problems. That just being with me when I needed her the most, meant the most.
aaannnddd.....now I'm crying more. I really hope my face isn't all puffy in the morning. That really ruins even the best outfit. Tomorrow I'm wearing my pink dress. (again, not much has changed).

halfway to 50

So sometimes when I'm at the gym and in need of a little added inspiration, I'll buy a magazine and read it while on the bike or elliptical. Since February is my birthday month and Cosmo has a great astrology section, I grabbed the Carrie Underwood cover-mag and took it to the gym with me. While dripping sweat onto the pages I realized something that disturbed me: I'm old. In the front of the magazine, readers can write in and tell their crazy boyfriend/college/work stories that are either embarrassing or funny. Most of these are about dating and sexual exploits. And not a single person who had wrote in was older than me. WHEN DID I GET OLDER THAN THE PEOPLE WHO WRITE IN TO COSMO?! And how do these young girls (some a mere 19) have crazy sex stories that they feel need to be nationally publicized?! Keep it in your pants people. have you no shame? geez.
It wont be until they are my age that they realize they had no business shagging their boyfriend in the public bathroom at the hockey game, and furthermore, that instead of writing the adventure into cosmo that they should be in church (or planned parenthood) confessing their sins and begging for Allah to find it in his heart to forgive them. And to not make them a rabbit in their next life. Christ.
The moral of the story isn't to have more socially acceptable morals. It's that I'm halfway to 50 and feeling old. (It's about me!!!!) I'm not even sure if my friends are going to throw me a party. Which is doubley depressing me right about now.
So funny story I remember from working for Workland & Witherspoon, a law firm here in Spokane, when I was in undergrad. They had an intern named Kelly who had gone straight from undergrad to law school and was turning 25. I remember thinking to myself, I feel so bad for her! 25. no boyfriend. not married. no prospects of marriage. Man...that would suck. Hello Karma - it's nice to meet you. again. PS you suck.
Although the whole "boyfriend" situation is still up in the air, I have no marriage prospects whatsoever. And usually I'm the poster-child for waiting until 30 for marriage (like abstinence before marriage only more plausible). But right now, I feel behind in life! No job! No husband! No his-and-hers towels! No mortgage! hell....I don't even pay my own cable bill.
To make me feel better, my dear friend Christina told me not to worry: "you're one year smarter and one year hotter than the last! Heartbreaker." it's a shameless play to my narcissism but I'll take it as truth :)
Also, just as a nail in my coffin, I have an exam ON MY BIRTHDAY. In my least favorite subject. with my least favorite professor. damn my poor life decision to go to law school.....

internal commentary

For the record, in reading my last post, I really do have big sunglasses (duh), a golden retriever (Coopsies!!), a yoga instructor (though she kinda sucks at life), and a convertible named Betty. Looks like my life goals are achieved! Let me tell ya, as the only person you know with this experience, it's lonely at the top (brush it off). I kid I kid.

Is it just me, or does anyone else do an internal commentary to their life? ....no? ....just me? well ok then. So let me tell ya how it goes. here is an example of what I was thinking this morning.
I walked down the steps from my top floor apartment as i buttoned my banana republic trench; black leather gloves doing the work for me. As I hit the button to open my convertible VW bug, I noticed that sound that I love. The sound of my heels striking the pavement. That "click click" plays up my confidence and completes my killer wardrobe. Off to work I go. Hi ho. hi ho.

My life sounds so glamorous when told through my point of view :)

AI dreamin'

I should not be allowed to watch American Idol. You know how our digit cable now has "parental controls" so that our budding youth won't be able to watch Jersey Shore and develop dreams of hair gel and slutty behavior? Well I need a qualified adult to: (1) show me how to work my remote controller, and (2) put American Idol on my block list! It's not because I think I shouldn't be this thoroughly entertained by bad reality TV. It isn't because I'm afraid that Simon's inability to sympathize with others will begin to rub off on me (I kinda like Simon and the mean things he says to people). It's because it makes me believe that I too can be America's next idol! I too, can wow the judges with my beautiful rendition of Alicia Keys' "Fallin." The truth is, the judges would agree that my vocals are substandard. But given the chance, I would risk national humiliation just to hear them say it.
After this week's show on Tuesday I found myself singing the national anthem in the bathroom on my way into the shower. It's not as embarrassing as it sounds....I was nominated by my peers to sing the national anthem with the other nominees at graduation in May. Practice makes perfect! ...okay so it's really that embarrassing.
What is comes down to is, I really miss singing! The roots of it all go back to my beautiful mother. One of her many talents is being able to match pitch with whatever song happens to be on the radio. Her high school choir teacher told her to remember him when she was famous. I envied her voice growing up. As soon as I was old enough for words, I was singing right along with her, albeit off pitch. But I improved with many a car-rides' practice. We even got my brother sucked into our love for belting every song at the top of our lungs: his friends tease that he serenades them in the car. I love it! We were both in the Cashmere high choir the year we won Best in State. My senior year I was even the concert choir president (I know...snaps for me!).
Much to my dismay, I discovered early that I am no solo artist. I'm more of a blender...I can match someone else but can't seem to hold my own. Maybe it's nerves. But through all of that, I still have begotten dreams of seeing my name in lights! Of headlining a national tour!
Or rather, maybe it's just that I have dreams of being famous...not necessarily of being talented. I would not be one of the brooding artists who steers clear of mainstream. Who believes their music to be "art" (ahem...Kanye West). Who lose themselves in a project and come up for air wearing some hideous form of black. I would get huge sunglasses, a golden retriever, a yoga master, and a beautiful convertible. I would definitely call out my ex's on all their shit through the power of my lyrics (yay Taylor Swift!).
Truth? I shouldn't be trusted with fame. I'm too afraid I'd use my powers for evil and hire an assistant just to put my shoes on for me. Because, like duh. I'm Lindsey Jean Wehmeyer. I do not. slip. on. my. own. pumps. thank you very much. (hair flip)

when it rains...

Have you ever felt someone else's pain so vividly that it becomes your own? I'm in possession of someone else's tragedy and it has consumed me.

My life got turned upside down last Thursday night. I feel like someone died. And I'm pretty sure that something did die...It is just not tangible. But the hurt. It's gut-wrenching. So sit back, and maybe my adopted pain will become yours as well.

I have a best friend. Her full, god given (Philipino) name is Erin Ann Gonzaga Faith Ditto. And I love love lover her. She's the one person in life that I feel really knows me for me...other than maybe K-Dub. She's from Phoenix, AZ but went to Gonzaga with me. We were cheerleaders together and our senior year, she was second in command to my "captain" status. I was "captain no fun" but she was captain "watch it." If you didn't watch it, Erin was going to put you in your place. Love my little half-asian ball of fire.
Our Junior year she met a boy named Kelly. (Yes, girl=Erin. Boy=Kelly.) He instantly became a huge part of both of our lives since it was about then that E and I started doing everything together. A few years later, I dated his best friend Chris Santucci. Like, OMG, how cute were we?! Best friends dating best friends!!!! Erin and Kelly lived together, in the same house as Chris and 5 of our closest friends, for about a year. We're thick as thieves. They are two of my very best friends. Two people that have changed my life for the better. When I thought I couldn't believe that any good could come out of a relationship, they were my light. Last christmas, they made us all very happy when they got engaged.
Erin and Kelly would make you believe in true love. Make you a devotee to happily-ever-after. But like anything that looks good from the outside, the picture wasn't perfect. I'm not sure what went sour, but the two people that I thought would sit on a porch swing holding hands at 80 are no longer. I found out the reason "why" I guess...like it matters. maybe they just saved themselves from divorce. who knows. When I found out, I called her.
I can't described to you the amount of pain I could hear in E's voice. She said to me, "I don't know what to do." So we took baby steps.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"sitting on the curb at my parents'."
"Just sit there for a while. When you think you can stand, that's all I want you to do. Just stand."
Seconds of silence passed; muffled sobbs. Until I heard,
"I'm on my feat." I thought to myself, not quite hunny.
That's how we got her into the house. I texted the ex (a sure sign of treason, I know) just to tell him that I love him too and am thinking about him. I wanted him to know that in the division of the assets, I didn't want to have to pick sides. Like a child of divorcing parents I want visiting hours with both my friends. Though E is like, duh, first.
I was on the 6am flight to Phoenix so that I can hold my E.Ditto in person and just be with her. I just need to be there while she cries. It's the least I can do. When someone is grieving, NEVER EVER say that you know how they feel. Even if you've gone through the same thing, you have no idea what they're going through. Just say, "I'm sorry." Sometimes, you don't have to say anything at all. Silence can be powerful. be with the person. Be with them while they cry. Be with them while they stand. Inevitably they'll fall...and when that happens, be with them then too. This is her grief, but it's my pain too!
I guess the question for me is....is it worth it? Is the love that they felt for 4 years, all of the good times, worth the absolute blackness of the bottom that they're both sitting in right now? Are the late nights staying up talking and growing together worth the sleeplessness that Erin is experiencing? Waking up crying. I have to believe it is. You can't be scared of love because of heartbreak. She'll climb out of the dark abyss of this hurt and grow from it. She'll love again. And through all of it, so will I.

What's in a name

I was recently asked as to the origins of "pinkbananaas" - and sadly enough I have a really boring answer.

I like PINK (a lot. like tons and tons. Like so much that after we moved from the Oak Street house when I was about 13, I experienced a pink-disaster! I left my pink curtains that Mom made me behind on accident. So what is a girl to do? Grab a friend and drag them with you as you knock on the door of said house and ask, kindly, for them back.)
I like bananas. (but not as much as I like pink. therefore it comes second.)

The extra "a" is there because pinkbananas was already taken. So much for being original....