Suzzannah

I ranted. I railed. I simmered. I hated. No, sorry, to clarify; I REEEEEALLLLLY didn't like. There was perverseness because my mood amused me. I was in a foul mood and I wasn't going to do a thing to pull myself out of it. Colleagues from the Layoff Job will recall the "Mood Elevator" and our attempts to move up to the next floor. I was on the surly bitch floor and got off. I had no plans to get back on and push the up button.

I promised you though that I would go do 30 minutes in the gym. I was true to my word. I found that telling myself I'm only committed to 30 minutes gets me in the gym. 30 minutes is as long as an episode of "Frasier", and slightly less lengthy as an episode of "Coffee Prince". I can get my butt off the couch for 30 minutes and walk.

I timed my exercise to coincide with Sam Waterston's appearance on "Law & Order". I went in knowing that I'd watch Sam until the end, which meant an extra five minutes. Good for me!!

28.46 minutes into my treadmillinery an older woman came in and smiled and climbed onto the stationary bicycle. "Hi! You're pretty regular coming in here every day! How much have you lost?"

Weeeeellllll, crap. Several things recommended themselves to my mind; #1) Technically, I have a minute and fifteen seconds to go, and she obviously wants to talk; and then right behind that and more urgently; #2) how does she know how often I come in here? Does she live in my building? Chick send her in? WTF??

I smiled at her. "Not enough!" I answered jovially. To indicate I had no leanings of a social nature, I kept trying to watch sweet sweet Sam Waterston. My new friend laughed. "Well, I've lost 82 pounds!" I don't care who you are, that catches your attention, one is forced to respond.

"Wow! Good for you!", I replied. I'm almost done. I looked at my timer. 37 seconds to go. Would she be offended if I got off the machine and left? I could do it tactfully. She continued.

"No, well, I didn't lose it a good way like you. I got cancer and I don't want you to lose it like that." Suzzannah went on to tell me she had first been diagnosed with colon cancer. It had spread to her stomach, thyroid, pancreas and most recently it was in her liver. She's starting chemo again next week. Her doctor tells her to go in and get some exercise, but she's just too tired tonight. Still she came in.

We talked for a while. In fact, I did 52 minutes on the treadmill tonight while getting to know Suzannah. 69 years old from France, married twice, and almost a third time, 4 children: all amazingly accomplished, whose grandmother worked for Coco Chanel. Suzzannah used to live near Stevie Nicks in Arizona. She has had compatriots in illness who took their own lives because of their cancer. She empathized but said "This is not a dress rehearsal, it's the only life you get". She was too tired to keep going on the stationary bike, and yet she encouraged me to keep coming back, keep smiling, and keep walking.

And I had the temerity to whine yesterday for no reason. I'm ashamed.

The "Other" Forms of Attachment, or "I Once was Lost..."

You will believe, I hope, that in addition to obsession, I can and do experience other forms of attachment.

You know puppy love – where in the beginning, you are SO SURE this is the one for you? Where you want to just take pleasure in it’s company and you can’t wait until you see it again? I’m in that stage with the show “Heroes” right now. It’s new, it’s shiny, and it has captivated me. Still walking the line though – if the little mercury balls don’t start glopping together, Timothy Kring? We’re going to break up. Just so you know.

Then, sometimes, puppy love leads to sincere affection – after you have passed the chemical stage and have settled into a comfortable, “let’s not go out tonight” place. You realize that it’s just nice to have the other around. It still makes you laugh; it still makes you go “Ahh”. That’s where I am with “The Office”. What a great show - it’s just such fun to watch! From the bootlicking sycophant Dwight to the hand-sanitizer-licking boozy Meredith.

Galloping past the obsessive (coughcough) Yoko phase of love and not quite reaching the bitter dregs of divorce attorney/marriage annulment animus (Season 8 & 9 of the Xfiles, as much as we liked Robert Patrick), we reach the apathetic juncture. You know what I’m talking about. Couldn’t care less? You have your standing date night but you just can’t muster the enthusiasm you used to? You just can't be bothered to shave?

That’s where I am with “Lost”. Oh how I loved the show at first; it had everything from hot hot Sawyer, to hot hot Sayid. It had mystery, pathos, sex appeal, and puzzles. Terry Quinn could act the crap out of anything and make you cry. I had read every spoiler out there and studied the glowing wall map! I knew what would happen in each episode in advance – and it drove my family wild. Someone is going to die tonight? Do you know who it is?? Omygosh, look! There’s Sayid in the tv while Kate is in saying good bye to her biological dad after she just blew up her drunken creepy stepdad! How cool! The soccer team has Hurley’s numbers on their shirts! Did you SEE THAT? Hey! Mr. Friendly looks just like the Gorton’s fisherman! WALT! WALT! WHERE’S MY BOY??!! I GOTTA SAVE MY BOY!

Then someone decided it would be a great idea to have a “mini” hiatus – No new shows from October to February. But February? No Repeats! Straight Shows Until The Season Finale!

Big mistake. Huge.

It left me for four months! It left me during the coldest and busiest time of the year, when I needed it most. You can imagine what happened; I mean, *sigh. My eye wandered and I strayed, OK? Held within the warm clasp of something new; maybe a little foreign and fascinating, the rest of the world now seems gray and uninviting.

It's coming back on February 7th from being away and I’m not sure what to do. Out of a sense of loyalty I’ve been trying to get that old spark back; reading spoilers, anticipating the date. The thing is I. Just. Don't. Care. Eh. I’m still willing to give the relationship a chance. I might be lured back. I might. Counseling is just too much effort. I don’t know. But right now, I don’t think its going to work out.

And believe me, it’s not him, it’s me.

Sorry? I need to get a date? Why yes. Yes I do.