Blue-Footed Musings

The funeral for my father-in-law was awful in all the ways that funerals always are. It was also my first time being in the receiving line. I’d tried to beg off, but my sisters-in-law wouldn’t let me, so I had no choice but to pretend that I can actually handle social situations. As people came by to offer me their condolences, I very deliberately looked them in the eye and thanked them in my “I really mean it” voice. If they seemed like they wanted to hug, I hugged them. If they seemed like the wanted to shake my hand, I reached for theirs.

Unfortunately, there came a point at which they were flying by so fast that I lost my careful thread of attention and missed some cues. As a result, I may have hugged some shakers and shaken some huggers. But I figure that some awkwardness is to be expected at funerals. You can’t expect grieving people to be at their best, and I was certainly not at my best.

By the end my arm was bothering me so much that it hurt to shake hands, and I could only hug with my left arm. And somehow, after the interminable church service that followed, I found myself at the head of the exit line. That was not where I wanted to be. I felt as if I were leading the people from the church, and it was weird.

The whole day was weird, though. It had a surreal tinge around it and still does. Partly it’s having had to manage so many unusual engagements and situations while being too tired and sad to process them properly. But mostly I think it’s that I still can’t believe my father-in-law is gone. His death was expected yet still shocking. It is something unbearable that we nonetheless have to bear. These things cannot be reconciled, and perhaps a thing that cannot be reconciled can also never quite feel real.

Watching as much TV as I have lately, I’ve seen a lot of commercials. Notably, there’s an AT&T commercial starring Luke Wilson in which he says, “When you’ve been around [as long as AT&T], you can spot a hustle a mile away.” There he is talking about being able to “spot a hustle,” and it seems to me that the commercial is nothing but hustle. I particularly love the way Wilson pronounces the word “away” as “a-hway.” It sounds so artificially folksy. He has to know that it’s not the most common way to say the word, and that means he’s making a conscious choice there, deliberately attempting to appeal to “country folk.”

Are the country folk falling for it? It’s hard to imagine they are. They’re not stupid. But I sometimes get the sense that they like being pandered to, and if that’s indeed the case, then they’re getting plenty of it, not just from AT&T but also rival T-Mobile, whose commercials feature Billy Bob Thornton walking around in a similarly rural setting and saying similarly folksy things. (BTW, online I saw an article opining that these two actors with Texas connections had been chosen as spokespeople because Americans equate Texas with trustworthiness, to which I say: trustworthiness is not the first thing that comes to mind, honestly.)

The other day I mentioned that I had cancelled several streaming services. Specifically, I cancelled Amazon Prime, Apple+, and Hallmark, mostly because I thought we were spending too much on TV, but also because “Hallmark season” is over. My husband wasn’t impressed by my thriftiness until I pointed out that the total cost was approaching $40 per month. And anyway, we’ve been thinking about trying some new streaming services, and we certainly needed to dump a few before adding any new ones.

Speaking of which, my husband wants to get Paramount+. That’s fine by me, because that would allow me to watch new episodes of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. I suppose I could also watch Star Trek: Starfleet Academy, but TBH I’m not that interested. The very first episode (offered for free on Prime) was underwhelming. I think I’d rather rewatch Star Trek: Lower Decks, which is also about younger, lower-ranked Starfleet folks. It may be heresy to say so, but I think it’s possibly the best Trek, with one giant caveat: you have to have seen all the preceding Treks in order to appreciate its greatness. The people behind Lower Decks know the lore and seem to love it as hard as the biggest fanboy while also understanding exactly what makes Star Trek tick. You can see the reverence and careful craftsmanship in every episode. I’m looking forward to watching it again, whenever that may be.

I went shopping on the Sunday afternoon before Christmas. I was still bleary-eyed and emotionally wrung-out, barely able to concentrate, but I needed to pick up some things at the store. So there I was at Target, walking down one of the main aisles. This young guy was walking toward me on a crash course, as if he were playing chicken with me. I had to swerve my cart to avoid him, and he clearly didn’t care, and that pissed me off. In my head I said, “Next time I hit you, asshole.”

Would you believe that not a minute later he and I were once again traveling in opposite directions in an aisle, this time a narrower side aisle, and that he was walking straight down the very middle, taking up all the space, eyes glued to his phone? The Universe was clearly challenging me to stand behind what I’d said. I thought to myself, “This is it. You said you’d hit the asshole, and now’s your chance. Hit him!”

But of course I swerved to avoid him again. Anyone who knows me will be unsurprised by that. I am very predictably non-confrontational.

When I told this story to my mom, she said that I should have stopped walking and let him hit me. And maybe she’s right. As girls we learn not to take up space, but now I am a woman over 50. Have I not earned the right to claim my space and yield it to no one, even when it’s just a narrow strip of space in a Target aisle? And hadn’t that young man better learn to watch where he’s going before he finds himself in real danger and not merely at risk of a little embarrassment and/or minor bruising? There’s nothing like walking into a thing to teach you to pay better attention to your surroundings. Certainly that would have been a more effective lesson than me telling him to watch where he was going, which was another option I chose not to take. And perhaps, had I stood my ground, he would have swerved to avoid me. Who knows.

I say these things and mean them. Still, I know that were it to happen again I’d probably swerve again, and I have to wonder if that’s a bad thing, both for me and for the assholes of this world. Will we none of us ever learn better?

Last year, after my father-in-law’s funeral, I asked my boss if I could take back the PTO days I’d used for Christmas week and replace them with bereavement time. I felt a little icky asking but also justified. Losing a family member is awful enough. Using vacation time on grieving when you’d expected to spend it on celebration is like salt in the wound.

She replied that I could have up to four days of bereavement time. I’d only planned to ask for one but, knowing my tendency to short-change myself, I convinced myself to take two. My husband talked me into a third.

That means I have three extra PTO days for this year. In the system, they look exactly the same as all my other PTO days, but in my mind they are special and should be spent on something life-affirming. I need to think of a good way to use them.

I talked to a coworker by IM last week. She asked how I was, and I said I was “OKish.” She replied, “Same.” And I thought to myself, “Wow. How sad is it that neither of us can even commit to a neutral term at this point.” Neither of us asked why the other was “ish,” either. I think we just accept that nobody is happy with the way things are now. The details are almost irrelevant, and nobody wants to dwell.

I have been watching too much TV. It’s not entirely by choice. My shoulder has made almost everything painful. It’s hard to find a comfortable position for using the computer. Reading is difficult, because normally I’d hold the book with my right hand, and now that irritates my arm. I actually tried to read the other night, but then I got an ocular migraine (probably from not sleeping), and that put the kibosh on that. I can still play piano, but the uppermost notes are out of reach (my arm simply doesn’t move in that direction anymore).

In truth, it’s hard even to be comfortable watching TV, but it’s slightly less uncomfortable than anything else. The big challenge–especially after having canceled several of our streaming services–is finding things that I feel like watching. Imagine my delight when Netflix informed me that there was a new season of Bridgerton. I absolutely adore that show, even as I hate it in so many ways. I immediately starting watching the new season. Happily immersed in my love-hate relationship, I was shocked when the show came to a screeching halt after the fourth episode. Damn you, Netflix, for making me wait for the rest of the episodes!

I accidentally put my shirt on inside-out the other day. I noticed immediately but just as quickly decided to leave it be. It wasn’t worth the extra shoulder pain to fix it. The perfectionist part of me was pissed off about that, but she was in pain, too, and chose not to throw a fit. And to put things in perspective, it was such a minor indignity compared to the day of my father-in-law’s funeral, when I had to ask for my husband’s help getting both dressed and undressed. My everyday around-the-house clothing I can manage, thankfully. Dresses and bras with clasps I cannot.