“Jills! I need a big favour on your way in — I am having a makeup emergency!!” was the first of many hysterical text messages I sent to Jills this morning. I CAN’T FIND MY MASCARA!! She resides atop a pharmacy and because I am a tool, it turns out that I have a slight addiction to mascara, and also lipstick. But the lipstick doesn’t leave my purse and so is always on hand for application. My three go-tos / go tos / go-to-s (?) are mascara, kohl eyeliner, and red lipstick. Not bad, considering how pretty I am, please and thank you.

Also, because I am a tool, I am my own best competition. Normal people like to beat their ‘best time’ while running this marathon and that marathon as I cheer from the sidelines eating cookies and the occasional hot wing. Me? I like to beat my ‘best time’ while donating blood. Two days ago, I was willing my blood to pump faster. Harder. FASTER, G-D DAMN IT while the beat in my head was the Rocky theme song. If you know me enough, you know that I am not lying; rather, I am really this awkward. My goal was to beat my last time of just under 7 minutes. It didn’t work — I was just under 8 minutes because I had not drunk enough water. I shake my fist at dehydration.

I jumped off of the seat faster than anyone else and looked around smiling and wondering if they noticed that I at least beat them, but everyone was too busy being drained to notice anything, including the large man who was seated at the after-drainage-cookies-and-juice bar.

Dear Fella,

It is not a buffet. TAKE YOUR COOKIE AND GO.

Love,

M

See? Tool.

Which appeared to be the way I was running my life since last week, until one of my beloveds last night pointed out: (1) the full moon was on Saturday, baby! Don’t you remember what you said? “This shit will make you crazy,” which it does on a normal day, now imagine it being coupled with (2) The Periods. We have talked about this before, dear Reader. Unless you have a magic fun-bit, you too have The Periods. And frankly, may I be blessed enough to have it until I am 65. Ameen. (There’s a prayer I never thought I would issue, but never say never.)

Completing the triad to this week’s crazy is the heaviest of all, which is (3) that my dad will be bouncing off and out of the country for a while as of tomorrow. Silver lining? I get the Mercedes. Other two silver linings? He is to soon marry one of the most amazing women in the world, and I will get to travel across the world to hang out with them both (for which, you know, he’ll be paying because that’s what poppas do for their little girls).

I have struggled with this for a few days now, that I will not be able to pop over and squeeze my baba regularly. Something I actually never do. Instead, we plan dinner dates and talk politics and shop and he lectures me and I stare at him in stunned silence and then I usually make fun of him and he laughs because I am the only one who may make fun of him without getting some sort of a verbal check.

Like this past weekend when he called me FOUR TIMES in the span of under 15 minutes to tell me random bits and pieces of items for my edification. And when he hung up the fourth time, he said “have a good night, baba” and I responded with “I’ll expect your 5th call in under 34 seconds. Please don’t fail me now” and he giggled because he is part crazy, too.

The struggle is over. My girlfriends (including Maxi) have been pulling me out of my funk for the past week, not allowing me to be alone for even one second and not for a night until later next week do I have one free evening but rather dinner dates and art events and hikes and social gatherings punching me at every turn. (My friends, they are amazing, yes?) Since day one when he became engaged, I have been caught between an unbelievable joy and deep sorrow. I will miss my baba lecturing me, and I will miss the fact that I can, though I don’t, go over just for a hug. And while I am in my, ahem, over 35s, a woman is never in fact anything but a little girl to her baba. Equal parts, I am over the moon for his next adventure.

Please send your prayers and best energies to my baba and BB. Please wish them the best of luck in their next adventure. Please pray that the bumper does not fall off the Mercedes any time soon, and by any time soon, I mean when I accidentally bump it.

Thank you.

Love you.

Owe you.