Blake's Proust questionnaire

When I read this, I said, "I'm going to ask if I can post it...but part of me just wants to keep it for myself." It almost felt like a little present.


What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Those times when I sit down, can take a big deep breath, the air feels light, the weather is nice, and there’s not a thing to do.

What is your greatest fear?
Snakes. On a plane or otherwise.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Napoleon Bonaparte. I can at least understand the desire to be in charge of everything.

Which living person do you most admire?
It comes and goes, but I most admire my friends. I feel like I have an amazing group of them and I admire a little something different in each one of them.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
The need to blend in.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
When people lack insight.

What is your greatest extravagance?
If I had to pick one, definitely electronics.

What is your favorite journey?
Sitting on a hillside in Parc Guell.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Impartiality. It seems to me that this virtue is at odds with another, loyalty. I much value loyalty over impartiality.

On what occasion do you lie?
When I don’t want a response to the truth, or when you don’t really want the truth either.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
My height and skin.

Which living person do you most despise?
It’s a lot of effort to continue to despise somebody. I’d rather just ignore your existence.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
The vocal interrupter “like”.
The response “maybe”.

What is your greatest regret?
It depends on the time of day. Usually, I regret leaving everything I need at home.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
Hard to answer that question, because I think it is difficult to say until right before you die. But, at present, my boyfriend.

When and where were you happiest?
I’m happiest when I feel that I’ve just had a very genuine moment with somebody and we both get our feelings and thoughts out there, in the open. There’s that twinge of relief and also of knowing that you’ve shared this moment that you can hold on to.

Which talent would you most like to have?
I would like to be one of those people that can just fix ANYTHING, you know those people? You take them a broken music box made of rare jade from 682 B.C. (I don’t actually know when the earliest music box was made) and they can make it seem like it was made yesterday (and also make it play Dancing Queen).

What is your current state of mind?
I’m tired of this survery, it’s making my ADD flare up.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I would seek less extrinsic approval and find it from somewhere more personal.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
They would accept that I’m gay, join PFLAG, and donate to the HRC instead of the Southern Baptist Association and the NRA.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Matching into residency.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
Yoda I would be. Powerful the force is. Live for a millennium I would, many things I would see.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
A lazy brown dachshund.

What is your most treasured possession?
Pictures. From old family photos to new journeys with friends.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Saturday night internal medicine call in the hospital admitting somebody you have admitted 10 times before for another missed dialysis appointment.

Where would you like to live?
Washington DC or SF Bay Area.

What is your favorite occupation?
Firefighters. They’re hot.
I’m sure this was supposed to be a question about the favorite occupation for me, but I already know what I have to do.

What is your most marked characteristic?
Some people might say the fact that my personality is chameleon-like. I say my most marked characteristic is my moodiness, let’s call it my mini-bipolar.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
The ability to read my mind.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
The ability to put it all together. Looks, book smarts, wit, and street smarts. It’s hard to wear all of those together, but that’s the perfect woman. She can pull it all off (in heels). Oh yah, and good teeth.

What do you most value in your friends?
Honesty, disclosure, and support.

Who are your favorite writers?
Asking me this question is a bit like asking a vegan what meat they like.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
James Bond.

Who are your heroes in real life?
I look up to many of my friends. I like to have tangible heroes.

What are your favorite names?
Ashleigh, Austin, Jack, Jacqueline, Kyoto, Amberlie.

What is it you most dislike?
People who are unprepared.

How would you like to die?
Old and quick.

What is your motto?
If you’re gonna do something, better do it right (or at least appear that you have).

Old text messages

April 15, 2010~
Terroni: You know why I just come to your house?

Blake: ?

Terroni: Because it's better.
Better than everyone else's.

Old text messages

March 19, 2010~
Terroni: It's nice out, and I'm bored. Let me know when you're done with your shit. We should go outside.

Blake: If rounds end...

T: You want me to page you out of them?

B: The suffering will be over soon.

T: Sounds like you're going to hurl yourself from a 14th floor window.
If so, I'll see you on the ground. I've been looking for an excuse to go outside.

Old text messages

April 14, 2010~
Blake: I don't care if you're an arborist, pussy willow can't be said on tv.

Old text messages

January 1, 2010 ~
Terroni: Are you guys eating sauerkraut today?

Blake: Collards and black eye peas on New Years.

T: Oh, that's right, you're Southern.
You know, I don't think I've ever had a collard green.
What do they taste like?

B: Cabbage or turnip greens.
Except more chewy.

T: What do cabbage or turnip greens taste like?

B: Oh god.

T: It's not easy to be my friend, is it?

B: It has its difficulties.

Sunday morning

I'm sitting in an oversized chair in Blake and Evan's living room, drinking my coffee, listening to Patty Griffin, quietly, so as not to rouse the boys. When, as an old lady, I think back on this time in my life, I will think of these Sunday mornings.

I get up and collect the glasses from the night before. Pitching the vodka soaked olives from Evan's martini, rinsing the sticky lemonade from Blake's Arnold Palmer. I'm not sure what it is about this that I enjoy so much. There's probably something stereotypically female there for a woman's studies professor or a freshman psychology major to chew on. Have at it. I'm getting too old to care about any of that.

When I think back on my time here, I will think of Sunday mornings when I washed cocktail glasses, started some coffee, and read The New York Times until two of my favorites woke up.

Happy Birthday

Dear Owen,

Happy Birthday! This is sure to be the first in a long line of late birthday cards you’ll be receiving from me. This time, I blame it on your mother. It took her several days to get me a decent picture of you. Also, there was that brief period—2 or 3 days in the beginning there—when I didn’t actually know your full name. (The out-of-towners are always the last to hear the details.) As it turns out, you’re named after almost all of your male relatives. In fact, if I posted your middle names here, this would no longer be an anonymous blog. Here, we will just call you Owen.

I do love that you carry your grandpas' names, though. I very much look forward to watching the amazing men in your life—your grandpas, your dad, your uncle—teach you to be a scholar and a gentleman. You will learn to be compassionate, insightful, funny, and kind. You will hold open doors for people. You’ll carry groceries for old ladies. You'll be a very hard worker, an extremely loyal friend. You will have a great sense of humor, especially about yourself.

You’ll also get into a fair bit of trouble. But, when your dad calls your grandpa to say, “You will not believe what this kid did…” your grandpa will remind your father of the time he accidentally laundered pot it in his jeans. Even the scholar and gentleman sometimes gets caught with stems and seeds in the dryer vent.

Your sister Lucy could not be more excited about your arrival. She alternates between kissing you and sticking her finger in your eyes. You are covered in spit and have corneal abrasions, but you are well loved. Lucy and Logyn have great plans for you. Mostly, they plan to boss you around and take your stuff. Don’t look to your cousin, Eli, for any help here. He weighs more than the two of them combined, and yet they’ve somehow managed to purloin everything the kid once owned. Turkey sized and most dangerous when they work in tandem, those two are the toddler equivalent of Velociraptors (from the Latin for swift seizer).

Speaking of spit and eye injury, I can’t wait to see you in May. When I tell you, “Owen, I’m going to give you a thousand kisses,” I mean it. I’m also going to blind you with my camera. I apologize in advance. I can’t help myself. Take a hint from Logyn who now closes her eyes when she sees me coming.

It appears as though you may have that part down pat…


Love,
Aunt TT

All in the first day's work

I talked to Graci tonight. She just started a forensic pathology rotation in The Bronx. She's been there one day and already she says things like, "Yeah, we had a decomp today. Big old green, bloated thing. Been dead about two weeks. We're not sure what got him. Coulda been anything really."

Then, she takes a puff off her cigar, blows smoke from the corner of her mouth, sips her scotch, and buys the pretty lady at the end of the bar a drink.

Spring forward

Blake was on call last night. Evan and I had a Blake's on call date. On these nights, we make French food. More specifically, Evan makes French food. I follow very simple instructions. "Cut this into pieces just like these," he will say, holding up an example. When things get complicated, I grab my wine glass and the dog and head to the living room to flip through Vogue. Their apartment's open floor plan allows us to chat away while he cooks and I, well...drink. When dinner's ready, we eat and then take some to the hospital for Blake. Yesterday was a wet, chilly day. It made for a great French onion soup night.

French onion soup and red wine and vodka tonics and dirty martinis... I suppose it's no surprise that on call nights, Evan and I tell each other things we, perhaps, otherwise wouldn't.

After dinner, we went to the piano. It's been months since we've done Broadway. I'm sure the neighbors missed it almost as much as we did.

Blake got home around 9 this morning. 9 this morning was actually 8 this morning, which almost completely explains the fact that we all slept until 11 this morning (which was really only 10), had some leftover chocolate cake and some breakfast quiche, watched Blake accidentally solve a Rubik's cube, and went back to bed until 4 (which, again, was really only 3). The point is, saving daylight is exhausting.

When I rolled back out of bed this afternoon, Evan asked, "You ready to go home?"

"Yeah," I said. I wasn't so sure that wasn't a little bit of a lie. There are times I really need to get home, back to my quiet apartment to curl up on my couch with my favorite mug and my softest throw. I require a certain not so small amount of time alone. But, there are also times when I could quite easily overstay my welcome at the boys' place. It is very easy--a bit too easy--to feel right at home there. Resisting the urge to feed the clingy monster that occasionally lives in me, I try to leave before they are really sure they're ready for me to go. In that spirit, I said, "Yeah," when I probably really meant, "Nah."

There's a big old harbor in the middle of this town. When traffic clogs a few main roads, it can be a total pain in the ass to get from my place to the boys' without swimming. Evan picked me up yesterday because he was teaching at a math convention in my neck of the woods. As such, he had to take me home today. We made it as far as the harbor where we ran into a veritable parking lot. A St. Patrick's Day parade, Alice in Wonderland in 3D at the IMAX, a dental convention of some sort--it was the perfect storm of traffic, a real fuckery of ground transportation.

If I had been alone, I would have crept my way home. Because I was with Evan, though, and I really didn't want him to have to spend the next two hours in the car, I suggested we just turn around. "Listen," I said, "it's not like I was going home to split the atom. Let's just go back to your place and we can try this again in a few hours."

I felt bad. I didn't want to go home, but I didn't want to stay, either. Blake and Evan hadn't seen much of each other this weekend. When Blake got up from his post call nap, I thought it might be nice if he had his boyfriend to himself.

I have to say, though, that traffic was just one in a series of great things to happen to my weekend...right behind onion soup, vodka tonics, and breakfast quiche.

Blake got up shortly after we got back home. (You see how I call it that? Oy vey.) If he was disappointed to see me, he hid it well. (He's a good friend. He would hide it well.) Evan suggested a movie. Blake put in Licence to Kill.

I'm a Bond fan. Blake is a Bond connoisseur. He owns and knows them all. Watching them with him is great fun. Licence to Kill was no exception.

After the movie, I made the only thing I ever make for the boys--fettuccine Alfredo. Impossible to ruin, it's my kind of dish. Dinner was excellent for two reasons: First, it's two main ingredients were cheese and heavy cream. Second, cooking something made me feel a little less guilty about the day I'd spent squatting on their couch. In short, cheese and heavy cream make me feel better about myself in more ways than one.

French food, vodka tonics, shared secrets, off key show tunes, and friends like these two make me feel better about the rest.

Prepare to be underwhelmed

I used to leave little notes to myself here about my day. I thought of this as a place to jot down a few lines about the things I didn't want to forget. I've realized that lately the very best things are being left out...and forgotten.

I apologize in advance for what I hope will be a deluge of uninteresting posts. It's not that I hope they'll be uninteresting, it's just that I hope to get back to writing about the best parts of my day, even when I don't have anything clever to say.

A woman wrote a book called, No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog. I'm sure her blog is endlessly clever. I highly recommend it (if endlessly clever is the kind of thing that interests you). If, however, you're intrigued by the hopelessly mundane, stick around. I'm your girl. I had French onion soup for lunch.

Today I met the boys I'm going to marry

Setting the scene...

Dinner in a crowded restaurant. On one side of a booth, it was Blake, Evan, and Terroni. The three of us easily fit as we are all about as big around as the average pepper mill. On the other side, it was Dawson and Joey. (Yes, as in that Dawson and Joey.)

Joey said to Blake, "Hey, remember that deal we had where you guys will get married when Dawson and I have a baby?"

"Uhh...yes," he said, more like a question than a statement. He raised his eyebrows, turns his head to the right a bit, parted his lips and sucked in his stomach. I realize that sounds like he was posing for a photo op, but the effect is actually a bit different. When he does this, he looks like a man who is about to witness a head on collision--something he is powerless to stop and will not particularly enjoy but somehow cannot tear himself away from.

"Well," said Joey, "Dawson and I are thinking about having a baby sometime in the next year."

Then, it was as if Blake was part of a head on collision with a heart attack. Eyes wide in abject terror, he clutched his left chest, made a little choking sound, quit breathing, turned blue, saw his dead grandmother who called to him to walk towards the light, and for a moment...he actually died.

Resuscitation commenced.

For awhile there, it wasn't looking so good. I delivered chest compressions while Dawson gave rescue breaths. There were no signs of life. Things turned around quickly, though, when I took over the rescue breathing. The moment I put my lips on his and exhaled hot, garlicky breath into his mouth, Blake sat bolt upright, tousled his bangs a bit (the effortless hair look is never truly effortless), and yelled, "Alright, alright. I'll do it. I'll get married."

I'd like to think it was the very essence of life flowing from within me during that single breath that revived him. I suspect, however, that in that moment, something else might have shaken him from the grip of death.

The next day, during brunch, I listened to Blake and Evan discuss wedding plans with Dawson and Joey. I had only one request: that I not really be involved. "I'll sit and watch with Dawson and Joey's baby in my lap. You know how much I love babies, and sitting, and sitting with babies. I'm looking forward to it." It was then that the rest of the table decided I would be geting ordained online and officiating the ceremony. "It's like sitting and watching," they said, "except not really at all."

I was initially reluctant to play this new role but have since warmed to the idea. I think we'll be kicking things off with a story of the near death and subsequent brilliant resuscitation that started it all. It's a rather charming little how we got to where we are today, don't you think?

The best part is it's all true.
Every word of it.

It was all very Olympical and Lenten (and it turns out, they're the same thing really)

Regarding Lent
Graci: I missed the first day, so I'm just going to do an extra day at the end.
Terroni: (laughing) Uh...I don't think that's how Lent works.
Graci: Why not? It's really just about seeing if you can do it.
Terroni: (hysterical laughing) Yes. That is what Lent's about.

A few minutes later, while watching skiing
Terroni: Come on now girls. In the spirit of Lent, let's git er done.
Graci: That's right! That's what Lent's about.

During curling
Graci: You would be good at this one because you're a clean freak.

Graci: The tension is mounting...
Terroni: Can the tension really mount in curling? I mean really?

(By the way, two google searches and a wikipedia article later, we still don't understand curling.)

During the skeleton
Graci: How do they steer?
Terroni: They use their chins.

Terroni: It's like they said, "Here's your piece of metal and your helmet. Now, go." But some people looked at it and said, "I'd actually like to crawl inside my helmet for this." And they said, "We have a sport for you. It's called the bobsled."

More Terroni: And, you know, no one from the bobsled should get a medal. Their medals should go to anyone who doesn't die doing the skeleton. In the skeleton, if you survive, you get a medal.

Terroni: Hey, what's she doing out there? Didn't they just say that has a baby? People with babies shouldn't be allowed to do this.
Graci: Who should do it?
Terroni: Criminals.

During bobsledding
Terroni: I would want to be the one hiding in the back.
Graci: You'd have to be pretty trusting to be back there with someone else doing all the steering.
Terroni: You'd have to be a hell of a lot more trusting to be back there if I was doing all the steering.
Graci: True.

During Apolo Anton Ohno's race
Terroni: What's on his chin?
Graci: Pubes.

During some other country's national anthem
Terroni: They should put up the words so we can learn the songs.
Graci: Uh, no one wants to hear you sing their country's national anthem.
Terroni: HEY.
Graci: You know it's true.

Proust questionnaire

What is your idea of perfect happiness?
Making you laugh, especially if you didn’t see it coming.

What is your greatest fear?
Being a bad doctor.

Which historical figure do you most identify with?
Virginia Woolf. Except...I’m not a very good writer or particularly depressed and am far too good a swimmer to ever kill myself by drowning.
But, we both have prominent noses, and neither of us is an especially good dresser…so there’s definitely something akin to kinship there.

Which living person do you most admire?
Mary R. Smith.

Which living person do you most despise?
I’m not really in a despising mood today.

What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
I am, by my nature, unkind. This is to say, kindness does not ever come naturally to me. It is always a choice.

What is the trait you most deplore in others?
Bad tipping.

What is your greatest extravagance?
I eat amazing French food at least two nights a week. And, because the chef’s boyfriend considers me incapable of properly loading a dishwasher, I don’t have to clean up after dinner.

What is your favorite journey?
The walk along a South Florida beach early in the morning…and then again at dusk.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
Chastity.

On what occasion do you lie?
When it spares your feelings.
When it spares mine.

What do you dislike most about your appearance?
The amount of time I spend worrying about it.

Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
Like you do.
It’s a relative scale.
Note to file.

What is your greatest regret?
I regret about 35-95% of the shit that comes out of my mouth, depending on the day and whether or not I’ve left the house yet.

What or who is the greatest love of your life?
I’m going to be optimistic (which, like kindness, goes against my very nature) and say that I’ve yet to have the greatest love of my life.

When and where were you happiest?
This weekend, I was happiest curled up on Graci’s couch, watching the Olympics, mocking the suicidal sport that is skeleton. It felt just like it did when we lived together and I got to make her laugh every single day.

Last week, I was happiest sitting across from Blake in the back of a small pizzeria, drinking beer in the middle of the day, toasting the dawn of my 29th year.

What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
Having no one who calls on you to love them when they are sad.

What is your current state of mind?
Is hungry a state of mind?

Which talent would you most like to have?
I would like to be able to sit down at the piano and play Jungleland again. There was a day, 15 years ago, when I could do this. In the time since I have forgotten how to read music and find middle C.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
I would be a more insightful friend…and also friendlier.

If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
They would have all been born on the first day of the month. As it is now, with them scattered over the calendar all willy-nilly like, I can’t ever remember the birthdays.

What do you consider your greatest achievement?
Today? Well, I started the dishwasher this morning. That’s something.

What is your most treasured possession?
1055 pictures…mostly of the nieces.

What is it you most dislike?
Dirty public restrooms.
The Pennsylvania turnpike.
Taking out the trash.

If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
I’d be a snapping turtle at a petting zoo.

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
A niece’s favorite stuffed animal.

Where would you like to live?
I’m pretty happy right here.

What is your favorite occupation?
Some days, doctoring. Some days, anything but doctoring. I’m still trying to figure out how to get paid for all that corn I’m not growing.

What is your most marked characteristic?
I think they call it an acerbic wit. I’m funny if you’re laughing and bitchy if you’re not.

What is the quality you most like in a man?
He must be a scholar and a gentleman. The former implies curiosity, work ethic, and at least an 8th grade reading level. The latter implies class, kindness, and guts.

What is the quality you most like in a woman?
She makes fixing it look easy. Curiously enough, this is also how I define maternal instinct.

What do you most value in your friends?
Laughter, loyalty, liquor. (Not necessarily in that order.)

Who are your favorite writers?
David Sedaris, Jane Austen, Harper Lee, Anne Lamott.

Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
Atticus Finch.

Who are your heroes in real life?
People who know how to cut hair.

What are your favorite names?
Logyn calls me TT.

How would you like to die?
With my hair washed, my toenails painted, and my legs shaved. As such, there is a certain amount of grooming that must take place before I can drive on the highway, get on a airplane, or go skydiving.

What is your motto?
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I tell my daughter…when you get to a certain age, there’s no such thing as natural beauty. It all takes work. Now, go put on some lipstick.”
–Elaine, secretary and life couch

Consider it a thank you note

Lap 29, off to a good start

Blake: "Good morning! You want a beer?"

Terroni: "You know, if you weren't taken, I'd swear we were made for each other."