I've been feeling very fuzzy lately.

And it certainly isn't because I'm not getting enough protein. I've been eating nothing but fish, chicken, and broccoli for three weeks now. Okay, I exaggerate. I've also been eating eggs and fat-free cheese. I have a domino-effect health problem that all boils down to my being on the South Beach diet and thyroid pills to help my ovaries. Don't ask.

My mom should be at the airport by now. A shuttle was supposed to pick her up at my apartment a little over an hour ago.

She didn't come under happy circumstances, unfortunately. My grandmother (her mom) had a massive stroke on the morning of March 18. Mom came the next day with my sister and my nephews. Grandma died early in the morning on the 20th. My sister and the boys stayed with John and I until they left with my Dad (who arrived on the 22nd) on Monday, the 26th. Mom decided to stay longer, with us. It's been sort of a whirlwind. Little boys here for a week, then gone, but it felt so short. Mom here for a week, when the brakes had been put on...

I can hear Gerald McRaney in the next room, having coffee, his distinctive voice cutting through the Ella Fitzgerald that I'm enjoying so much. Something about working at Universal, blah blah, Hollywood.

I'm missing my mother already, Major Dad. My grandmother is gone, Dash Goff.

I want a freakin' cookie!

I've been evil to John. He's doing the diet, too. We took Mom to a movie on Saturday--Meet the Robinsons at the El Capitan. Oh, and we had reserved seats...that come with popcorn...that we can't eat. I think John could live solely on popcorn and be satisfied. So, on Saturday afternoon, after we took Mom to Universal, John asked me, "We're really not going to eat our popcorn?" I said, "I didn't have chocolate pie when my grandmother died. No, you can't have popcorn." It was spiteful, but ultimately true.

John is sweet, Mr. Simon. I think you'd like him.

Labels: food.

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