Tag Archives: friendship

39

I turned 39 on June 2nd. It was a big deal for me.

My family, at the end of my 39th birthday weekend.

I’ve long dreaded turning 39. I think I was telling myself I was dreading turning 40, but that was a lie. I’m not afraid of 40 – I’m excited for it, actually. It’s a badge I’m anxious to earn. But I’ve been scared shitless of 39.

My father died when he was 39, you see. He did not have what most people would consider a “good death”. He was a young man with a wife and two small children – barely in his thirties – when he was given a devastating diagnosis. He and his mother were both diagnosed at nearly the exact same time, with the exact same cancer; they were each given just months to live. In hindsight, it’s very clear that both of their deaths could have been easily avoided by not subjecting them to radioactive, carcinogenic procedures to treat their (hereditary) thyroid conditions. But in the early 80s oncology was a fledgling field, ya know…

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Decisions

Spring has sprung, and mini-humans are most definitely in the air.

In the last two months, Trent and I have met three new human versions of three of our favorite couple friends – two of them born just a week apart.

Arthur Louis Braidman. Mom + Dad: Jon + Allison.

Mia Reno Mucklow. Mom + Dad: Zoe + Micah.

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Siamese

It’s times like these, times when life just feels like a steaming pile of…

You know.

You know.

…that I really miss my sister.

We’re like the same person, and yet we are so totally not the same person! It’s crazy. I realize this more and more, the older I get:

No one gets me like my sister does.  Continue reading

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Two Headed Reunion

It’s been about three years now since Trent’s band, Two Headed Spy, officially broke up.

Last show: CD release at Cafe du Nord.

Last show: CD release at Cafe du Nord.

It happened not long after we bought 3675 and moved to Oakland, but it was in the works for a while. The guys had been together for years, writing and performing and recording and dedicating themselves to their music way more than your average weekend warrior, but those “grown up life things” had just started to happen. You know – big jobs and real relationships and family and houses and stuff.  Continue reading

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Stork Club

Once upon a time, the Stork Club was an infamous Oakland dive bar where I had a second date with a man I went on to marry. I went to see his band play with my old friend John, visiting me from San Diego (and being a very good sport); I fell in a hole in the middle of Telegraph Avenue on my way in and spent most of the night bleeding and in pain, but gosh I had fun in spite of it.

Alcohol helped.

But though the good old Stork Club still exists, I’m now thinking of the term more literally. These days, my definition of “stork Club” is a gathering of pregnant ladies named Jessica… Continue reading

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