What I Do

gregson poemLast night I fucked up a little bit and hurt someone I care an awful lot about.

In the fearful moment I realized it, I worried tremendously about loss. It’s what I do.

Things got better. They got ironed out, talked through, apologetic. But this morning I was still pushing some regret and remorse around in my head. It’s what I do.

So I was sitting with it rolling around up there, and sipping some coffee, when I came across this poem.

And I read it and remembered: as scary as losing people can be, the bigger loss, the scarier outcome, is a life where you haven’t found – and loved the hell out of – yourself.

Perhaps you already know that. I have to remind myself quite often. It’s what I do.


Poopacin - a life

I lost Ruth today. My little pup, not my cousin (details are important).

We had just over fifteen years together, and my heart has a crack in it tonight from her departure. But the crack makes room for a boatload of gratitude that we had that much time together, and that’s a good thing.

I was a twenty four year old newlywed when Ruth came into my life. She was my first dog. We grew up together in a lot of ways. The little eight week old pound puppy that kind of looked like the love child of some aggressive back alley action between a rat and a squirrel.

But the Ru was a scruffalicious force of the Awesome. She charmed people almost everywhere she went. An intrepid little soul. Even as an old lady, she was always the first one up in the morning, and had twice the energy of the other two dogs less than half her age.

Ruth lived by two rules: let’s be together always, and let’s eat. They were great rules (especially if you are going to spend a decade and a half with an Italian). I hope I did her love, devotion, and time justice.

I don’t have much shit figured out, so I can’t say for sure, but I hope Ruth’s awesome little dog light shines on on the other side.

Rest in peace pup. Big loves.

Folgers Makes Me Kinda Want to Bang My Brother


The response I got back from Sal after wishing him a happy birthday on November 15th, 2011

There’s a Folgers coffee commercial where a brother comes home from a long absence spent in Africa and his sister answers the door. He makes a funny about having the wrong house because sister looks so grown up. The two pause at the threshold for excited smiles and a big hug, before heading into the kitchen. It’s very early in the morning when brother makes it home, and mom and dad are still asleep, so it’s just the two of them in the kitchen while the coffee is brewing. Brother hands sister a present wrapped with a bow on top. Sister plucks the bow from the box and sticks it to brother’s shoulder. He gives her a quizzical look, and she tells him, with a tender smile on her face, that he is her gift this year. Then time stands still for one intense moment, as brother and sister look into each other’s eyes. Before brother has a chance to take sister’s face in his hands and kiss her with all the pent up passion brewing between them, their meddling parents barge in for the coffee, thoroughly cockblocking him. They ruin the whole moment, and we get cut to regularly scheduled programming.

Folgers shines a brave light on an intriguing concept. Perhaps one really doesn’t have to look all that far for their soul mate. Maybe the people we are best matched for, are the other people our parents had to raise. Makes me wonder what it would be like to date my brother. Sal has a lot of the qualities I look for in a guy.

He’s one of the funniest people I know. We laugh together all the time. He tells great stories. He has near perfect comedic timing and a kick ass skill set when it comes to inserting movie lines into a conversation. It’s adds a level of humor you just don’t always get from independent thoughts.

He is taller than me, which I like. At six foot, I could even get away with heels and not have to worry about topping him. I think dating a shorter brother would be just plain awkward. The kissing alone. Aside from Snow White, (who, let’s face it, is just plain odd anyway), you don’t often see women bending over to kiss men.

Another thing I dig with my brother is our extensive social overlap. I find this to be a big advantage. All that awkward getting to know you stuff that one has to do for the friends and family of a new partner would be mostly nonexistent for us. No disapproving in-laws to have to try and win over! Telling the story of how you met your beloved can get tiring pretty quick too, but I’m guessing no one is ever going to weary of hearing the story of how you came to fall for your bro. We also prickle and pout about all the same family members which makes things so much easier than separate shitlists.

Like most healthy couples, Sal and I have a lot in common lifestyle wise and we compliment each other quite nicely. We both enjoy rural living. I like his horses and he doesn’t hate my chickens. Our dogs haven’t killed each other, and everybody respects the cat. He knows how to fix stuff, I know how to fuck stuff up, and we both know how to cook.

Sal is a man of conviction, which I value. He has a strong sense of right and wrong and he doesn’t believe in compromising his ideals. He also has a big generous heart.

Of course, nothing is truly ever a black and white issue, and one must not forget that when considering dating a sibling. Sal has many habits and attitudes that I find so maddening, I kind of want to shoot myself in the face to get away from him. Isn’t that the solid balance of love and repulsion any great relationship should be based upon?

Ultimately though, I decided against going after Sal. In hindsight, it was pretty obvious all along. Sal lives far away. Neither one of us has ever put much faith in long distance relationships. It would never work. Back to the drawing board.