I wet my be... Wait a minute! Who writes these headlines?

Although I suppose there could be worse alternatives¹

It all began with "Let there be light", although that might be taking an introduction to the topic a little too far.  Suffice to say, sleeping in my bed has become a bit of an adventure (not that I'm suggesting that anyone other than I try it²) since a recent ant invasion.  I'm not sure if any uncles³ were involved, but I immedia soonishly binged⁴ "get rid of ants", which led me to a page that suggested a teaspoon of rubbing alcohol, a teaspoon and a half of dish soap, and some water in a spray bottle.  Being a man, I of course didn't measure.  Furthermore, since it doesn't say where exactly to spray, I tried spraying it directly on them and found their claim that the ants "will stay clear away from" the solution because of the alcohol was a little understated.  Specifically, they weren't alive enough to do so after a shot or two, although that might be because of the dish soap rather than the rubbing alcohol.


¹ My bed has a wet spo⁵.... NO! NO! NO!  Bad headline writer, bad!  Anyway, it's gone now.
² Although that might (or might not) be subject to change in the future.
³ A joke the appreciation of which will be severely reduced by those who pronounce "aunt" as "awnt".
⁴ It's like Googling, except using Bing.
⁵ Not that I mind discussing topics involving that subject.  It's just that I wasn't referring to the common definition of that term.  Furthermore, I would think that towels (either under the affected area before or over afterwards) would usually solve the problem.

Why must I be... let's just not go there

Today's Recent Widower Review of Dion and the Blemonts' "Why Must I Be a Teenager in Love" has been cancelled due to a complete lack of sympathy for the plight of the singer.  Being about 30 years older and having a wife recently die will do that to you.  But for those that really want to see it anyway, here it is:

Important information for those getting an eye exam

When getting an eye exam, make sure to ask the optometrist if a pupillary distance measurement is included in the prescription, especially if you plan to buy your glasses online.  While you might be able to do the measurement yourself, it's one of those things best left up to a professional¹.  If they won't supply it, you might want to consider taking your business to someone else who will.  I found out the hard way at Target Optical, they will only provide one when you purchase glasses with them².

¹ In fact, I believe I read somewhere while searching online to buy glasses that New York (state or city, I can't remember which) law requires a professional measurement when buying eyeglasses.  I don't know whether or not this means an optometrist is required to provide one.  Yes, I'm too lazy to look it up, so if anyone who knows could leave a comment, it would be greatly appreciated.
² While I do not have a problem with them having such a policy, I think it's a bit dishonest to not inform people getting an exam of this beforehand.

¿Como te voy olvidar cuando no puedo?

Translation: ¿How can I forget you when I cannot?

Although this Recent Widower's Review includes another foray into my translating Spanish into English, my task should run a bit smoother as I won't have to decipher my wife's handwriting and spelling as well.  However, I will slightly change the format a little.

The song starts with repeating amor six times and although the word is literally translated as "love", a better translation in context would be "my love" since it's addressed to a person.  Note: count on hearing/reading this word a lot throughout the song.  Note the second: that certain describes my wife.
Even though the next line ("Quiero que me vuelvan a mirar tus ojos") is grammatically correct Spanish, it still causes difficulties for online translators because "in Spanish, changes in the word order can be heard in everyday conversation or seen frequently in everyday writing such as that found in newspapers and magazines."  Google, for example, bungles it completely as "I want you to look into your eyes again" by completely ignoring the "me".  Bing's rendering of the sentence as "I want to get me to look at your eyes" is a bit closer, yet confuses the object and subject.  However, in this sentence, it is the verb that determines the object rather than word order.  In other words, since "vuelvan" is third person plural, the subject has to be a third person noun- and the only noun that fits that description is "tus ojos".  It is easy to understand why the song writer chose this particular word order (i.e., he needed a rhyme for "rojos"), but placing the two "misplaced" subject in the normative spot before the verb (i.e., "Quiero que tus ojos [subject] me [object] vuelvan [verb] a mirar") fixes the translation problem for both Google and Bing: "I want your eyes to look at me again".  Unfortunately, something that is no longer possible for my wife.
After another couple of lines of thrice-repeated "amor", we come to "Quiero volver a besar tus labios rojos", which Google inexplicably translated as "I never want to kiss your red lips".  Bing wins another round almost by default with a closer-but-still-no-cigar "I want to kiss your red lips", since it omits that pesky "volver a".  Including a translation for those two words would make it "I want to go back/return to kiss (or kissing) your red lips".  Yet another nonviable option in regards to my deceased wife.
The next four lines also contain several pitfalls for translation.  Not only do lines one and two (Comó no acordarme de ti and De que manera olvidarte; literally, "How not to remember to me of you" and "Of what way to forget you"), for example, contain infinite verbs and omit a subject altogether, but they build on each other: "How can I not remember you/ In what way can I forget you / If everything reminds me of you ('Si todo me recuerda a ti')/ [and] You are ('estás tú') everywhere ('En todas partes')?".  More on this after the rest of the song.
The singer then goes on to mention a couple of places where "you" are ("estás tú" or just "estás"): a rose and (literally) "to breathe", i.e., "act of breathing".  I haven't seen my wife in any roses, but then again, I haven't looked at many roses since her death other than those that someone (probably one of her daughters or sisters) brought to her final viewing.  As for seeing her in the act of breathing, that comes and goes.  Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.
This is followed by the repeated line "How will I forget you?" (Como te voy a olvidar), which will also repeat twice after the next two lines.  The next two places the singer finds "you" is in "kissing the cross" ("besando la cruz") and praying a prayer ("rezando una oracion"), both which carry a religious significance, the first of which (i.e., kissing the cross) I do not participate in and the second of which I would attach only to the love of God and not another person, up to and including my wife.
Now we come to the only part of the song that isn't repeated again:
Si te clavaste aqui en mi corazon (If you have embedded yourself here in my heart)
Y mi amor, has llenado mi alma (And my love, you have filled my soul)
Y tu sangre corre por mis venas (And your blood runs in my veins)
Y mi sangre me hace estremecer (And my blood makes me shake/tremble)
Yo contigo (I with you)
All I can say about this part is I guess it's supposed to be romantic... and maybe it is and I just have poor taste in judging whether something is romantic or not.

Until (a) death (certificate) do us part, Part 2

When we last saw our intrepid hero (i.e., me), I... rather, he was leaving the Department of Public Health Vital Records at 313 N. Figueroa Street, Room Lobby-1, Los Angeles, CA 90012 ("X" on the map below, which you'll have to click on the post's link to see) with a couple of newly purchased copies of his wife's death certificate.  Looking up and down the Figueroa Street, however, failed to produce any sight of a stop for a Metro bus that would return him to downtown Los Angeles.  True, there was one a block southwest of him.  Instead, he started traipsing southeast down Figueroa and managed to turn what should have been a three-minute walk to the bus stop into a 2.1-mile trek.  But at least he eventually got home.  However, what he found when he got home... that's a whole 'nother tale for the next post.

Just another difference between pre-widower life and post-widower life

While I was out shopping today (according to the scheduled posting date, which would be about a week ago by the time I actually got around to posting this), I saw a multiple picture with "Together is my favorite place to be" written across the bottom.  Before, I would have viewed it as merely a charming sentiment and some small part of me can still recognize it as such.  Now it mostly delivers a gut punch with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, a painful reminder that my wife's death bars "together" as a "place" I can visit with her in the present.  I'm not quite sure why I share this other than to point out 1) how differently I perceive an innocuous message before and after my wife's death and, 2) how randomly a "bad moment" can appear.

Suffering from PWRD

I don't know how prevalent Phantom Wedding Ring Disorder¹ or even if anyone other than myself suffers from it.  I do, however, know that in my case that is altogether too real.  After growing accustomed to almost sixteen years of brushing my thumb against my wedding ring to check that it was still there, it is now gone from the fourth digit of my left hand.  And even the knowledge that it's gone (and why) doesn't stop me from rechecking- just in case I misrembered or dreamt both the real and symbolic reasons for its absence.  But what can one do when she's gone from one's life, but not from one's heart?

¹ I was going to call it "Phantom Ring Syndrome" before learning that name is already taken for an entirely different malady.

Nothing Compared 2 Her

Let's get right at with another installment of (insert drum roll here)... Recent Widower's Reviews®.  For those who have not already guessed it by the post's title, I will be looking at a song by Prince that was popularized by Sinéad Marie Bernadette O’Connor by the name of "Nothing Compares 2 U".

Nothing Compared 2 Her

Let's get right at with another installment of (insert drum roll here)... Recent Widower's Reviews®.  For those who have not already guessed it by the post's title, I will be looking at a song by Prince that was popularized by Sinéad Marie Bernadette O’Connor by the name of "Nothing Compares 2 U".

A cautionary tale

I cannot recall the month, much less the date, it happened.  I thought I had narrowed down the time frame by finding a purchase made at the Salinas Amtrak followed by another at an Inglewood Costco, but their date of April 25, 2011 marks them as about a year too late.  While the exact "when" remains a mystery, the "what" I remember all too well despite dismissing it as trifling at the time.  My wife had returned to our Salinas, California apartment after visiting her sister in Los Angeles.  While there, she said, she went to the hospital with abdominal pain and the doctors discovered a lump/mass (masa) in that area of her body.  Maybe it was fear of the effect of hospital bills on our financial situation (we weren't too far from almost losing our apartment due to back rent we eventually paid off and both of us being temporarily unemployed) or perhaps I didn't want to believe that it was what it almost definitely was, but I should have rushed her to Natividad Hospital or pretty much anywhere to have it checked out.  I didn't.
And so I am left here to wonder: would they have caught it in time if I had?  Would it have made a difference?  Would she still be alive, perhaps even well?  What kind of husband was/am I, to allow that to have happened to her?
 I cannot prevent questions like these from haunting my thoughts or wounding my heart.  But that is as far as I will let them go in crippling my life and destroying my future.  Yes, I made those choices.  Yes, I own up to my failures.  However, I am human.  I recognize my imperfections.  The past remains unchangeable, but I can repent of what I have done and use the knowledge I have gained from my errors to make better choices now and in the future.  The story has not finished and I feel joy over that.

It's the End of the World As We Know It And I (Mostly) Feel Fine

Welcome to the first installment of recent widower's reviews, where I (the recent widower in question) look at some songs and possibly other media that relate- however remotely- to how I feel since my wife's death.
It should become a semi-regular feature on this blog since it's easy to do (except when I'm using it as a dual-purpose post, like this one) and I need filler from time to time.  So let's get to it.

It's the End of the World As We Know It And I (Mostly) Feel Fine

Welcome to the first installment of recent widower's reviews, where I (the recent widower in question) look at some songs and possibly other media that relate- however remotely- to how I feel since my wife's death.
It should become a semi-regular feature on this blog since it's easy to do (except when I'm using it as a dual-purpose post, like this one) and I need filler from time to time.  So let's get to it.

(NS)FAQ: What's a "beeljo"?

Before addressing the topic referred to in the post's title, let me first explain that a (NS)FAQ is a (Not So) Frequently Asked Question- sometimes so not so frequently as to be equal to zero.  Then again, sometimes the best time to answer a question is before it is even asked.

So who, what, where, when , why, and/or how is a "beeljo"?
It's the first two letters of my last name followed by the first two letters of my middle name and then topped off with the first two letters of my first name.  Thus: "beeljo".

In which I compose why I suppose I have to propose a purpose for this blog

Welcome and I hope you enjoy reading this blog and I, for the most part, enjoy writing it. Please note that while many of the early posts will deal will have a somber tone, I will balance these out with lighter pieces later on.  This brings me to the first few reasons for my blog:

1.  To show the pain in my life and the causes thereof in my life, especially those related to my wife's death.  I wanted the blog to reflect all aspects of my life and realistically portray my experiences rather than cherry-pick the good.
2. I hope that by sharing such events, I can multiply the joy and divide the sorrow brought by them.
3. To show that at least one person (i.e., me) has learned how to overcome such pain and possibly give hope to someone who thinks he or she cannot.

But wait... that's not all!  Act now (or any other time before this blog ends) and you'll also receive these additional reasons for no extra charge:

4. To share some of my and my wife's history, both before and after we met.
5.  To encourage myself to become more social.  A couple of consequences of moving around so much throughout my life are first, I do not know how to develop roots within a community, and, second, I have a hard time picking up social cues that would have been more obvious.

That's all I can think of for now, but I'll come back and add any more that come to mind.