Weagle Weagle

First of all: I took my first (generic) Xanax four hours ago, and I'm still awake - not zonked, I mean - and I don't know if it's doing anything or not.  A bit of crying earlier when I discovered a pen in the pocket of one of Jerry's shirts in the closet while I was trying to figure out singing outfits for the weekend was just a bit of crying, didn't turn into the deep-seated wailing of yesterday.  That's something.  How I sleep tonight will be another test (slept horribly last night - awake on and off most of the night).

Anyway: starting off my weekend in Alabama early by having ESPN on, waiting for kickoff of the Auburn-Mississippi State football game.  Jerry and I were not huge sports fans - if we watched anything, it was baseball (Jerry was a White Sox fan who didn't actually care much about them and became a Yankees fan by marriage), occasionally putting on a football game to see how it was going or to look for people we knew in the stands (pretty sure I saw Stuart with the Auburn band once).

I told part of this story in a thread on Facebook earlier today: in November 1998, Jerry, Lynne and I were meeting up in Birmingham for the Alabama State Sacred Harp Convention.  My flight from New York to Memphis, where I was to change planes, was delayed and I missed my connection, so I spent that night at Northwest Airlines' expense in a hotel near the airport in Memphis.  The next morning, my flight to Birmingham was sent back to the Memphis airport after takeoff because of possible trouble with the landing gear - that wasn't a fun few minutes - so I got to Birmingham fairly late in the morning, flying in over Legion Field where the tailgating was in full swing for the last Iron Bowl played in Birmingham, and I got my first sense of what the Alabama-Auburn rivalry means down there.

On that trip we stayed with lifelong Sacred Harp singer Willie (pronounced "Willa") Mae Moon, whom Jerry knew, and who must have been in her 80s at that point.  At some point she asked us who we supported, Alabama or Auburn.  We looked around at all her sports paraphernalia and gave her the polite answer for Yankee guests in her home for whom all this was pretty new, and she was pleased to hear "Alabama." (Would we have been pointed to the nearest hotel if we'd said "Auburn"?  Good question!)

(Auburn first on the board.)

I've now spent over a decade getting to know people on both sides of this rivalry, sometimes members of the same family divided.  And my response now to the question?  I plead the Northerner's option of a cone of silence!  However... I have promised Karen to cheer for the Tigers tonight... so... WAR DAMN EAGLE!

I can just picture the smile that would have been on Jerry's face about all this.

So, the Xanax.  My endocrinologist called this morning to figure out with me what would make the most sense to tide me over until I see the new doctor in a week.  Of the three choices - something for sleep like Ambien, something for anxiety like Xanax, or antidepressants, I thought the Xanax would make the most sense - a sleeping pill would be helpful at night, if it worked, but wouldn't help with the feelings that I still haven't found a good way to describe, when everything crashes in on me and the sobbing feels like it's tearing my chest apart - but I don't feel like that all the time, and I don't think I'm depressed in a way that isn't "normal," whatever that means, for someone who's just lost her best friend, her soulmate, the love of her life, the life we had together, and the happy future we thought we'd have for decades to come, oh, and also her job, and has the stress of making huge important life decisions while in no condition to deal with those things.

(Tied at 7-7.)

(Oops.  Interception in the endzone.)

Manicure and pedicure at the Aveda salon this morning.  And weather.com says it'll be in the low 90s in Alabama this weekend, so I'll still have a chance to wear sandals and show off the Royal Rajah Ruby on my toenails.

All checked in for tomorrow's flight to Atlanta, just need to pack, get through the night (asleep, I hope), and get myself to Midway again.  Having done it already last month, I at least know I've... done it already last month.   I'm never going to like doing that drive.  But I'll be glad to be going.