No It All

It’s been raining all day so this evening, the boys and I went down for pizza at the Bear and the Wren.  We all agreed that the Bee Stang is the best— it’s the honey.  Not sure how it came up but one part of our dinner conversation involved me teaching them my favorite tongue twister.

Betty Boughta bought some butter, but she said this butter’s bitter, if I put it in my batter, it will make my batter bitter.  So Betty Boughta bought some butter, better than the bitter butter, and she put it in her batter, and it made her batter better.

We came home and Jacob and I watched our second to last Ted Lasso.  He snuggled up to me and said he was feeling sad because he’d been thinking about how Dad never finished the Dune book.  And I reminded him that it seemed like it wasn’t that great.  He agreed— maybe he’d saved him the trouble.

It was the right moment to share some wisdom my CEO had shared with me.  He lost his dad to cancer when he was twelve.  He recently shared a story from his childhood.  His pastor had said, “This experience will either make you better or bitter… and it’s up to you to decide which.”

Jacob looks up at me and says without missing a beat, “I think it’s going to make me better… Wanna watch the last one?”

If it feels like things went really fast, it’s because they did.  James just kept saying, “It’s too fast.  It’s just too fast.”  And it was.  When you’re 47 you’re not ready to go.  You’re just not.

I had a moment of panic at the hospital when they brought the teriyaki chicken meal he’d ordered.  It looked terrible.  He said it was terrible.  I couldn’t imagine it being one of the last things he would eat.  We asked his siblings to bring back some gluten free cupcakes and he requested a chocolate chip cookie from Sprinkles.  He ate a taco from Gott’s.  We had some clam chowder.

When we made it home after nine days at Stanford, Uncle Geoff drove all the way to Cayucos for our favorite lemon scones with honey butter.  James had the tiniest corner, but he told me it was so delicious.  On Saturday, the 17th, Uncle B picked-up our favorite Kanpai sushi and brought it home.  James sat at the dinner table with us and had a bite of the Grizzly Bear roll and most importantly, our all time fave— the Party Girl roll.

A few days later, I realized he’d stopped eating.  And his last meal was sushi.  I’m just glad that if he had to go out, he went out with a Party Girl.

Tonight I’m supposed to be writing an obituary.  Which technically I’ve only done for chickens— Rest in peace Chicken Sando, Death Destroyer, Chicken Nugget, and Princess Fucillo.  Gosh, I’ve had more practice than I’d care to admit.  We really are good chicken parents.  But yes, I’m dragging my feet and watching Ted Lasso with Jacob instead.  Fútbol is life.  The universe has driven a Mack truck through my heart and I intend to wedge a size 5 soccer ball into that hole.

On Friday afternoon we went down to Avila for a pick-up game of beach soccer.  Coach knows exactly what Nate needs.  While Jacob and Nate played, I had the perfect mini visit with my longest time friend, Jamie A.  Yeah, she got the better initial.  I’m Jaimie P.  You can imagine how that went in grade school…

Jamie’s littlest son, Oliver, held his hamburger without eating eat.  Her eldest son, Jack, shook Jake’s hand and was wearing pajama pants.  They gave us delectable Meyer lemon bars, candy cane art, and a box of relaxation.  We scored front row parking spots, had a ghost pepper chip challenge, and competitive thumb wars.  The weather was perfect.

There was a moment when I felt her looking across the beach and seeing us.  Seeing our life.  Our community.  Who are all these boys and parents and dogs?

This is our soccer family.  Isn’t it great?

Today is James’ half birthday— 47 and a half.  I’m all about celebrating half birthdays.  Any excuse for cupcakes is my motto, so I made little pecan tarts.  And I love traditions.  Last night I decided on the Fucillo family tradition of hors d’oeuvres for dinner.  I made meatballs and deviled eggs and a beautiful salad.  I even hit upon a new creative breakthrough in deviled eggdom— replace the sprinkling of paprika with Tajín.  Chef’s kiss.

Last night Nate and I watched Home Alone and then we all hit the sack.  This morning we had a cozy time opening presents, drinking warm drinks, and listening to Christmas music.  I was notably impressed with myself when I got Pandora to play carols through the Sonos speakers from James’ phone with just a few clicks.  Electronics have always been James’ realm.  He generally accuses me of randomly hitting all the buttons.  And yes, I do descend from people that put black electrical tape over their blinking digital clocks.

The boys were over the moon this morning when they opened up the box for a new VR headset.  It literally looked like some kind of covert suitcase Will Smith brought back with him from space.  The boys played their new Pokémon Violet game as the VR software loaded on the PC Jacob built with his dad.

When it’s ready, Jake starts connecting all the cables.  Something’s not right.  He gets on YouTube.  Everyone on earth says it doesn’t work with adapters.  It’s hopeless.  The only way it will work is if he gets an integrated graphics card.  Or a new PC with more display ports.  Or “Mom, the only possible way it will work is if I get an entirely new motherboard.”

Christmas cannot crash and burn this quickly.  I tell him he needs to eat something and take a shower and come back to this problem.  IT issues cannot be tackled on an empty stomach.  And there’s always more than one solution to a problem.

He mopes and groans and takes a break.  While he’s gone I channel my inner James and get the instructions.  James is an insanely good follower of directions.  When it comes to electronics, I’m more of a click-on-everything-till-I-see-how-it-works-gal.  I feel a little panicky.  I used to sell multimillion dollar servers for goodness sake.  I configured quotes and tromped through data centers.

Deep breath— what would James do?

I start to follow the instructions methodically.  Jacob comes back and I ask him trial and error questions.  We talk about where the graphics card is and the monitor issue we solved ourselves earlier this week.  He notices some gray plastic rectangles on the back of the tower.  We get the little screwdriver and I try to pry one out.  They’re tough little effers, but I finally get one loose and we pop it out.  Hot damn it’s the exact HDMI port we need to connect the headset directly into the graphics card.  Christmas is saved.  Jacob high-fives me and we feel unbelievably accomplished.

Yet another mini Christmas miracle?  Thanks my sweetest half-birthday boy.  You’d be so proud.  I didn’t even push any buttons.

When I was five, my mom tricked me into playing soccer by telling me my best friend Zoë was going to play, and then her mom, Lela, told Zoë I was going to play.  We were the only two girls on our team in those days.  Apparently I would stand on the field, shut my eyes, and turn my face to the side as the soccer mob swarmed me and kept on going.  Good thing that never came up when I was trying out for varsity.

When I met James, he was into baseball.  Which turned into softball.  Which everyone knows is just a league for drinking beer.  Many years later, after a few seasons with the intensity of the baseball dads, James switched his allegiance to the one, true football.

Then in 2018, he’d heard about the Manchester City All or Nothing series on Netflix.  We developed a family crush on Kevin De Bruyne and have been loyal fans ever since.  Premier League games, the FA Cup, the Carabao cup, and the Champions League have brought us so much joy through regular ol’ Wednesdays, weekends, and the occasional hospital stay.

James always took special care to get the boys FIFA World Cup books and the associated player stickers.  This year he bought a big box of stickers and would surprise Nate with a handful of packs here and there.  Nate studies these guys like he’s preparing for a PhD.  He knows their home countries, what languages they speak, which teams they play for, the positions they play, and their FIFA ratings.  After we gave most of the sticker dupes to our cousins in Hawaii, James told Nate about the Panini website where he could pick out the exact 50 players he wanted for $20.  He spent one evening choosing all 50 and then double checking his work on the computer.

Nate then spent every day asking if his Panini stickers had been delivered.  He got both Uncle B and Uncle Geoff to check the mailbox with him several times.  Fortunately, we found the tracking number and it said they were shipping from Italy.  Unfortunately, it said it could take 30-40 days— a lifetime when you’re eleven.  A few days ago we checked again and they’d finally made it to New York.

This morning as we’re driving out the road for a lunch of finger foods at Novo and a stroll around downtown, Nate petitions for a stop at the mailbox.  As we’re pulling up, we boost our Panini prayers with a shout out to our best Dad.  We love you James.

And he delivered.  It felt like a miracle.  Just in time for Christmas.

It’s Christmas Eve morning and here I am creating a project plan.  Don’t judge.

One of the things I’m really good at is recognizing what other people are good at.  And bringing lots of people together to make something happen.  So this morning James’ little brother, Uncle Brett, who has always been the most musical, and of course younger and cooler, has been promoted to Chief Music Officer.  This role involves compiling our playlist.

I know there may be lots of people with song requests so I’m putting this out there 2022-style— via a Google doc.  Please add to the Song Requests list on Tab 1.  Try not to delete or write over other people’s additions.  No other instructions required— you got this.

Jill— I expect you’ll help to get us started PYT.

Uncle B at our wedding, May 4, 2002

I’ll never forget my first commute to my new job in San Luis Obispo, almost seven years ago.  I drove down this beautiful mountain, past fields and vineyards, and the most contented cows.  The sky was crystal clear.  I passed the octagon barn and pulled into the parking lot just twelve minutes from home.

Please save the date for a Celebration of James’ Life on Saturday, January 28th, 2023.  It will take place at SLO’s Historic Octagon Barn and will be a special time for music, stories, food, and memories.  Please join us and help me show our boys how much they are loved and the impact their dad had on so many people.

Photo credit: Kirsten Bullard Photography, Paso Robles

On Tuesday night, December 20th, we lost our heart, our soul, our James.  There is more to say, just not today.

So yesterday I gave the boys the choice to attend their last day of school before the winter break, or to call-in a “mental health” day.  Jacob chose to go to school, and Nathaniel chose a Nate Date with me.  We dropped Jake at Laguna and then went to Scout to have cookies for breakfast.  We had our favorite lemon pistachio shortbread and fancy hot chocolates with whipped cream and latte art.  After a quick stop for gas and the drive-through carwash with the infinite blowdryer, we grabbed a soccer ball at home and headed to Avila beach.  The sky was crystal clear.  We explored two driftwood forts and played a bit of two touch against the overpass wall.  After our walk, Nate decided we should go Christmas shopping downtown, particularly for Williams-Sonoma peppermint bark and presents for his brother.  On our way home we made one last stop to look at backpacks at REI and endured the 1-star customer service experience currently on sale at Best Buy.

As soon as I pulled into our driveway, I noticed an alert on my phone.  It said my small magnetic wallet had detached from the back of my iPhone and was at the SLO Promenade.  Totally what I need— to lose my primary credit card and my driver’s license.  I don’t have enough projects…

Nate and I race back to the parking lot while he watches the “Find My” app to make sure my wallet isn’t on the move.  We check the parking spots where we were parked.  It says it’s at the corner of Buffalo Wild Wings.  We never went anywhere near B Dubs but that’s what it shows.  I ask a homeless man if he’s seen it.  Poor guy’s got nothin’.  We search the bushes.  I’m convinced someone has taken my cards and thrown the magnetic wallet into this trash filled landscaping.

As I’m driving home and kicking myself, I can hear James saying, “Geez Jame.  How did you do that?”  Just shaking his head.  And then I can’t help thinking, “You’re supposed to be looking out for me!”  And then I conclude, maybe he’s just busy checking-in or something?…  I cancel my card and order a new license for $31.

Nate and I watch the World Cup final overtime and penalty kicks, and then it’s time to go back down the hill to pick-up Jacob.  We’re waiting in the golf course parking lot and Jake jumps into the back seat.  First thing he says, “Mom, why’s your wallet back here on the floor?”

Funny, Jame.  Very funny.

January 2017, Avila Beach

December 2022, Avila Beach

After a night of hourly wake-ups, we had a leisurely Late-Start Monday morning.  Over breakfast Nate’s assessing yesterday’s tournament competition.

He says, “You know when I made that one free kick from outside the box?”

“Yeah, it was a nice one.”

“The ref came up to me afterward and was like, ‘Have you ever made a shot that beautiful before?'”

“So what’d you say?”

“Yeah.

And then the ref fist-bumped me.”