Today is Thanksgiving, my favorite American holiday. I love it because it is not a day of gift giving, just a day where all my favorite foods are served and I let myself eat like a hog. Families tend to gather together on this day and mine is no exception. My two sisters from Iowa are coming down with their families and we are all gathering at our oldest sister's home for a spectacular dinner. I mean it when I say spectacular. My sister is the best cook I know and we will all eat until we drop. Well, at least the men will. They will eat and eat and then walk off and sprawl on various sofas to watch football games and insult each other. The women, well...we will help get the food on the table and then after the meal has been consumed, we will sit around talking until someone wearily gets up and starts clearing dirty plates. Then we will all join in.
Except, of course, for the men. This used to annoy the snot out of me. Now, I just accept it. This is my family. As is. And to be honest, I am happier when the men aren't in my way, cluttering up my space.
I have written long and verbosely about my family and their faults, so I won't go into that today. They are flawed. They are annoying. They are mine. The best part is that my sister, Jessie's oldest daughter, Lyndsay will be here. She is seventeen and we are close. She and I will find a way to sneak out and go see Twilight and then maybe go get our nails done or go to a hair salon and get pink streaks in our hair. Sit in a booth and drink tea and discuss her boyfriend, her high school life and her worries that she won't get into a good college. Like most seventeen year olds, she is very myopic and self involved. I am her cool aunt. We will have fun. She and her sister, Mercy, aged 14, will stay at our house for the weekend. Bing will find this slightly annoying, but not say a word. Liv will love having big sisters. Socks will get many, many walks and many more tummy rubs. I will get the joy of seeing my nieces and having some hope that maybe this generation will be different, more accepting, more open to change.
Today is Thanksgiving. I am thankful for:
1) Cuban coffee. I start my day with cuban coffee and it makes all the difference. My co-workers have wondered aloud why I insist on making the coffee so strong that the spoons stand up in the cups, but I like it good and hearty. It opens my eyes in the morning. Thank you, cuban coffee.
2) Pale green, 1000 thread count, cotton sheets. I sleep like a baby under those sheets with my buttermilk colored cashmere blanket. Only someone who lives on the prairie or a similar climate can understand how comforting it is to fall asleep in such bliss when it is so freaking cold outside. Thank you, pale green, 1000 thread count, cotton sheets.
3) Socks, the dog. I never really wanted another dog. And training him was not enjoyable. But, now that he is here, I can't imagine how we lived without him. He is my confessor, my goofball, my friend, my comrade in arms, and my protector. If he could talk, he would sound like Ernest Borgnine. He likes to sleep in patches of sunlight, just like a cat. He is uninterested in mice. He loves to eat potato chips. He once walked in when Bing and I were making love and looked so worried that I started laughing and the good times had to come to a stop while I ushered him out of the room. He has a Christmas stocking. We are THAT family now. Thank you, Socks.
4) Books. I don't understand people who don't read. I have been reading since I was four and I have never stopped. I will never get to read all the books I want to before I die and that bothers me. I always have a book tucked under my arm when I go anywhere. One of my deepest joys is sitting in our worn black leather chair and curling my legs under me to tuck into a good book, preferably with a cup of lemongrass tea nearby. Maybe a small peanut butter cookie. Maybe two. Or...a slippery, sour dill pickle. Depends on the book. Thank you, books.
5) Liv. No, you are not fifth on the list. You are first in my heart, above all. No matter what. I am closer to the person that I always knew I could be because of your existence. You keep me from my own personal demons. You make me never give up because the thought of losing you is simply unacceptable. Quite simply, you make love fun. And worth it. Thank you, Liv.
6) Bing. No, you aren't sixth. You are second. And I know you know that and are okay with that. I know that all the wisdom says that you are supposed to be first and Liv second. I also know that you understand that I just don't roll that way. I am grateful that you put up with me, because frankly, I am not easy to live with and I am more aware of that than you know. I am so, so flawed and you love me anyway, without question. You look out for me, keep me safe even when I am struggling against that. You bring me cadbury eggs and unconditional love. It doesn't get much better than that. All of our friends tell me that I am the luckiest woman in the world because you love me so deeply. What you need to know is that I love you right back. I just don't do the dance as beautifully as you do, my love. Thank you, Bing.
7) Movies. I love going to the movies. Always have. I love the escape. I love sitting in a theater and then the lights go out and there is this other world that I get to dive into. All of the best movies have changed me in subtle ways: Out of Africa, Lost in Translation, Muriel's Wedding, Chariots of Fire, Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, Juno, Rebel Without a Cause, Atonement. Thank you, movies.
8) Products. I would be sad without these three products: Canus L'il Goat's Milk Tearless Shampoo/Body Wash, La Mer, and DuWop lip venom. If you want to smell sensational and have your hair and skin feel like silk, use the goat milk soap. It is cheap. Costs maybe seven bucks for a bottle. AND it works as a shampoo and a soap. If you are like me and battling fifty year old dry skin, try La Mer. It is not cheap. But it works. And if you want a terrificly sexy pout, get DuWop lip venom. I admit that I am slightly vain. I am a fifty year old woman who used to be a very, very pretty twenty something woman. I admit that I LIKED getting the looks. I no longer get the looks and my vanity suffers. But, these products make me feel pretty. And sorry if that sounds shallow, but I need to feel pretty and while my ego and self esteem are pretty intact, I need a bit of help now and then to see my way to my own attractiveness. So there. Thank you, products.
9) The woman who fixed my computer yesterday. Reggi. Thank you for coming the same day that I called you. Thank you for not making me feel stupid that I am the only one in my office who seems to not be able to understand how to run a simple computer. Thank you for fixing all my errors and then staying to show me a few computer tricks. Thank you for leaving your card and telling me to ask for you personally the next time I need help. Thank you for asking me to dinner. Thank you for understanding that I am with someone now and couldn't. Thank you for picking up the photo on my desk of Liv in her fake nose and glasses and bursting out laughing. Isn't she just so cute? And thank you for gracefully smiling when I showed you our family picture of Bing, me, Liv, and of course, Socks, the dog. Thank you for saying we looked like a happy family. We are.
Thank you, Reggi.
10) Medicine. I bitch and bitch about my headaches, my hair loss, my weakness and sleepiness because of the medication that I am on. What I don't say is that if it were not for the medicine, I would be dead. So, thank you, thank you, medicine.
11) America. Um...the music group, not the country...although I am thankful that I live in America and not a third world country. The song, Ventura Highway will always link Bing and I. I will never hear this song and NOT choke up with love. So, thank you, America, for Ventura Highway.
12) Trees, flowers, vegetable gardens and herbs.I often sit under my maple trees and gaze up into their branches and do my best thinking. My bleeding hearts, roses, calla lillies, lillies of the valley, tulips, pansies, snow on the mountain, bells of ireland, and poppies make me nearly swoon with joy on warm days in spring and summer. I can't look at those flowers and not feel thankful. And my vegetable and herb gardens feed my family and make me feel productive and strong. I love those first days of spring when it is time to till the garden and get it ready for planting. I love planting all of my tender shoots that have been bravely trying to grow in my basement and bringing them out into the light of a warm spring day and seeing them shiver with joy at feeling the sun on their necks. I love sticking my hands in the rich soil and tucking them in gently, but firmly. I love watching them grow and am thankful for the way they just share their bounty with us. Thank you, trees, flowers, vegetable gardens, and herbs.
13) Magic. I reserved the number thirteen for magic. Because is is all around us and I may be sort of pragmatic and have a prairie woman reserve, but I know magic is right here with me and I don't underestimate it's power, ever. I don't believe much in religion, but I believe profoundly in magic. I pity the fools who don't see it. Thank you, magic.
and lastly....
14) Friendship. I am a lucky woman. I have Harriet, my best friend and many, many friends from my work and my play. I have three sisters whom I may not like many, many times, but they are my friends. And I have so many readers of this blog who have become good friends. I just have one request. Come out of hiding, those of you who never post a comment. My google analytics tell me that I have over 300 hits a day, some from as far away as Iran. I would love to meet you. And to those of you who comment frequently, thank you for making my life so full and interesting.
To a few who stand out:
Dive...You are one bawdy, smart as hell fella. I once laughed so hard reading your blog that I choked on a piece of popcorn and nearly died....
Terroni...I am going to keep my eye on you, because you have legs. And I don't just mean those appendages. You are going places and I want to see where.
Gypsy...Something about you makes me feel very tender and protective towards you. Maybe it is because I know you suffer with illness too, but mostly it is because I think you have a soft heart.
Mme B....I sit up and read carefully every comment you make because I think you have wisdom that I need. Plus, I think you have a freak flag underneath all that poise and I kind of like that...
Jill....You and I see the world in remarkably the same way and that, in itself, is pretty amazing because I think we are both just a little twisted, but in an um...good way....
JYankee....If I am ever in Japan, I am buying you a drink. I want to sit in a booth and talk our heads off.
Angie...You are kind of a smart ass and I really like that in a person...
Chris...I think we would have a lot to talk about if we ever met, let's think about doing that, shall we?
Deb....I think you are sort of a quiet person who has loud thoughts.
Earth Muffin...I would sit through a musical with you, so I must like you because I truly hate most musicals...with the exception of Sweeney Todd. (It has to be weird for me to like it.)
Eric...You make me want to come into your diner and order a cheeseburger and talk about politics.
Fusion....Ah, you are a tender guy. I like watching where your journey takes you.
Jenny...You have been with me right from the start and you can even make me feel an interest in chickens, which I never thought possible.
Kristi...You are another one of those quiet ones who has kind of a bawdy side too. I like that....
Lachlan...I wonder if you know that I am sometimes intimidated by your intelligence.
Lori.....I think that we would ABSOLUTELY have a lot to talk about. But, I really like your politics the most...
Janet...You seem very Zen to me. I don't usually cotton much to that in people, because I am mostly jealous, I suppose. But, I like where you come from and how you get there.
Shan...You are way too religious for my taste...but does that stop me from reading your blog religiously? No. Maybe I am learning something, huh?
Kate...I think you and Fusion need to get together. Just sayin...
Stacy....My favorite Republican. Who'd have figured?
And
Zirelda...A computer geek AND an artist? I have so many questions about Dan. I wonder what that story is. Will you blog about it sometime? Because I am really intrigued.
Okay...and all you anonymous' (with the exception of the blog stalker...I KNOW who you are, pee butt.)...WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? And won't you come out and play?
There are many, many more...but this post is too damn long and it is time to go eat turkey and keep Bing from bitch slapping my brother in law...
So, THANK YOU, FRIENDS....
Love, Maria....
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Unsent
Thank you for the idea, Alanis.
Dear Jason,
It is hard to believe that two 15 year olds really thought that they understood Bob Dylan, isn't it? I laugh a little when I think of you and I sitting on the river bank discussing Tangled Up In Blue like we really knew what we were talking about.
Thank you for making my heart beat fast every time you smiled at me. I wasn't kidding when I told you that I thought you had wonderful hands. Those hands made me nearly swoon many, many times in the back seat of your brother's borrowed blue car. (Forgive me for not knowing the make of the car. I do remember that it was blue and I know you will find that funny.)
I had such a good time with you. I don't know why you broke it off with me. Something about you thought I wasn't really "into you." Well, hey. I tried. I wasn't much into romance, Jason. I'm still not. I never thought much about what I would wear on our dates, how my hair looked. I really looked forward to those talks about Dylan and Jung more than anything else. It was always all about the talking with me. It still is. I'm sorry that you thought I was cold blooded. You were right, though. It has been a common refrain with nearly every lover/boyfriend/girlfriend I have had. I have been asked if I had Vulcan blood more than once. I just don't get all mooshy. Well, not on the outside. If you saw my insides, you would have been surprised, I think, at how touched I was that you brought me that first edition of Walt Whitman. And I did cry after you took me home that night. But, by the next day at school, I was determined not to act like some pining ass baby, so I didn't. You probably never knew how much I liked you, Jason.
The last time I saw you was about ten years ago. So, you became a priest. Wow...I know that you had lots of spiritual questions, I am just sort of surprised that you found the answer to them in Catholicism. But, it was nice to have you take my hand in the back of the church that day after mass. Your hand was warm and when you leaned in and whispered that you were so proud of my medical career, well...I choked up. I didn't answer because I couldn't, Jase. So, I just smiled and waved and walked away. But, later, when I was driving home from that tiny Iowa town, I thought about Bob Dylan and felt totally like we both understood Tangled Up In Blue now. And I am proud of you, too. I will never forget those nights laying on the hay wagon with you and looking at the stars.
Love, Maria.
Dear Cory,
You were the longest relationship that I ever had (well, not counting Bing, who, in the end, will be the last and only woman I end up with.) We met when we were 24 and broke up when I was 32.
The sex was incredible, girl. And we had those fantastic bodies, those winsome, lithe, twenty something bodies. I remember trying things with you in bed that no one could get me to try now. (ICE?)
I remember finding our house together, FINALLY being able to buy a house after all those crummy apartments (the one with bare bones heat, the one that had eight flights of stairs and an elevator that no one wanted to get into, the one over the pizza joint that we thought was so great when we got it and grew to hate because we were so sick of the smell of baking crust.)
I remember falling out of love with you and trying so hard not to and then trying so hard to tell you without hurting you. And failing.
I remember your slit wrists in the bathtub, coming home and thanking god that I knew how to apply a tourniquet while I waited for the ambulance to come.
I mostly remember how much you hated me when we parted, how you said that I was cold and cruel and a bitch. How you held your wrists up to me and said, "I can't believe that I almost killed myself over a loser like you."
You eventually decided to forgive me. I need to tell you that for a long, long time I thought that I had something to be forgiven for. Now, I don't believe that. I just fell out of love, Cory. I'm sorry. But, I couldn't help it.
I'm glad that you have found someone else. I'm sorry that you aren't very happy. But, now you really need to forgive me because I lied when I said that I didn't mind you calling me occasionally. I do mind. Stop calling me. Especially stop calling me when you are stoned or drunk.
Love, Maria.
Dear Van,
I am so glad that we only dated for four months. You really didn't add much to my life. I learned how to snort coke with you. I know that you thought I was a real party girl. I wasn't.....not inside. I just needed to not be alone for awhile and you served the purpose for my getaway. I think I did the same for you.
We both know the sex sucked. (And seriously, I WAS SO NOT into the whole sucking cock thing.) You pointed out every bit of cellulite on me. I believe you referred to it as my "cottage cheese thighs." I stopped believing that I was sexy for a long time because of your words. And your nightly inspections.
I am sorry that your wife died. I meant what I said at the wake. I thought she was a really interesting woman and so, so kind hearted.
Good luck to you.
Dear Utah,
Well, sweetie, it was a gas, gas, gas. You are my one success story in my short lived foray into lesbian bulletin boards online. I met a few people from that time and they were all nightmares. Not you. I met a great friend when I met you. Too bad that we tried to turn it into something it was never meant to be.
But, seriously...I LOVED our cross country trip together. I loved the music you personally picked out for us to listen to (I can't remember that song you loved so much...something about "you sleep while I drive") and I loved getting all gussied up and going out to bars after we checked into our hotel. I actually became a good dancer because you let me step on your feet during the slow dances. My favorite memory: Singing Aubrey in a Hilton hotel room in South Dakota and sitting in our underpants with our backs against the bed head board. We were both as high as kites and we ordered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from room service at midnight.
And when the pot wore off, we talked. And talked. And talked. A friendship was born on that trip and while I know that you were disappointed at first that I couldn't be your "girlfriend", I knew that you understood in the end and you were incredibly graceful about the whole thing.
I saved most of your letters. They were so beautifully written. And going back to school to get your masters was a great decision. I love our weekly talks to check in with each other about Lost every week when it is on.
Tell L hello and give that sweet baby girl a kiss from me. Your family picture is on our mantle and you all look so fucking gorgeous. I know that you still think I am "ridiculously cold" but the truth is that I feel warm all over when we talk on the phone because hey...how did we both get so HAPPY???!! And ain't it grand?
You know I love you, bitch....
Maria.
Dear Penny,
I'm sorry that I didn't give you much of a chance. I just was a drunken mess, honey. You deserved better and I am just glad that I didn't get the chance to hurt you.
Love, Maria.
Dear Bing,
I am only writing to you because you and I tried to be together for several months and you were wonderful and I was horrible. I just wasn't ready, honey. I was a new mom and
scared that I would mess it up and you were so, so steady and reassuring. I don't know why I was so slow witted about us, why it took me so long to figure out that you were the woman for me.
All I can say is that I have grown wiser with age. And you have my word that I will NEVER let you go again.
Love, Maria
Dear Etta,
Wow. What a mistake! Well, we gave it the old college try, though. I don't know what we were thinking. I mean, we were both so much alike that a relationship should have never even been attempted. I'm glad that Liv was a baby when we met because she never really got to know you much and therefore, never had to know what it was like to get attached to someone and let them go.
I hope you found peace. I never knew what happened to you after you moved to Kansas City. I hope you are happy. And I hope your kids are too. God, they would be teenagers by now, wouldn't they?
We did have some miserable nights with our kids at Chuck E Cheese, didn't we? UGH!!
Love, Maria
Dear Tina,
Oh, god. Thank you for making me feel beautiful again. Thank you for crowing over my body like it was some gemstone. Thank you for knowing who Boo Radley was. I don't think I could have slept with someone who didn't know who he was.
Thank you, most of all for understanding that I didn't want a girlfriend, only a once in awhile bed mate. And thank you for being so fucking GOOD at that. Your wolf whistles made me smile even when I was shushing you and telling you to shut the fuck up and not wake up my daughter. Thank you for understanding why I never let you meet Liv. I just...couldn't.
And the roses. Thank you for sending me roses every year on November 21st. My partner isn't too happy with them, but she deals with it.
I learned to love my body again because of you. That was a gift, believe me.
Love, Maria
Dear Parker,
Another oh god....Thanks for being such a truly good bad boy. I loved your wicked grin. Loved your cowboy boots. Loved the way you leered at me across a room. I didn't love it that you got into fist fights. I also didn't love it that you played hookey so much from your job.
But, I liked talking with you, loved the way that you knew how to kiss me perfectly. A good kisser is such a dream. And you knew exactly how to use your smile.
The day I came into your office to help you pick out a jury was one of the most fun days of my life. And eating dinner with you and going dancing afterwards was like something out of a hot movie. I'm sorry that I didn't let you in any further. I couldn't. I meant it when I said that I had a daughter and that she came first. She still does.
Take care of yourself, my very good bad guy. And hey...you keep winning those cases.
Love, Maria.
And lastly....
Dear Bing,
It took me a fucking long time didn't it? Sorry about that. You were right, of course, I was sashaying around having too many one night stands with my bad boys and girls.
You told me yesterday that you felt that you weren't my type. Well, I beg to differ. Guess what? Harriet called me today. She and her husband saw Twilight today and she said, "I thought of you and Bing when I saw that movie...Not that Bing is a vampire, but just something about how much you both love each other and how she is so protective and sweetly adoring of you. Oh...and the way Bella trips and falls and is a total klutz...well, that is you all over, Maria."
So, maybe you are a bad girl after all, huh?
But, truly? It is the good woman in you that speaks to my soul. That doesn't sound like me, does it? I never say the gushy stuff. I should, though. Because I feel it, Bing.
I feel it right down to my toes every time I look at you. (Okay...well...most of the time anyway.)
I love the way you belong to Liv, me and Socks. And I love the way we belong to you.
You are the only woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with and you are the love of my life.
It just took me most of my life to realize that. Let's make up for lost time, okay?
I don't just love you, I ADORE you.
Maria.
Dear Jason,
It is hard to believe that two 15 year olds really thought that they understood Bob Dylan, isn't it? I laugh a little when I think of you and I sitting on the river bank discussing Tangled Up In Blue like we really knew what we were talking about.
Thank you for making my heart beat fast every time you smiled at me. I wasn't kidding when I told you that I thought you had wonderful hands. Those hands made me nearly swoon many, many times in the back seat of your brother's borrowed blue car. (Forgive me for not knowing the make of the car. I do remember that it was blue and I know you will find that funny.)
I had such a good time with you. I don't know why you broke it off with me. Something about you thought I wasn't really "into you." Well, hey. I tried. I wasn't much into romance, Jason. I'm still not. I never thought much about what I would wear on our dates, how my hair looked. I really looked forward to those talks about Dylan and Jung more than anything else. It was always all about the talking with me. It still is. I'm sorry that you thought I was cold blooded. You were right, though. It has been a common refrain with nearly every lover/boyfriend/girlfriend I have had. I have been asked if I had Vulcan blood more than once. I just don't get all mooshy. Well, not on the outside. If you saw my insides, you would have been surprised, I think, at how touched I was that you brought me that first edition of Walt Whitman. And I did cry after you took me home that night. But, by the next day at school, I was determined not to act like some pining ass baby, so I didn't. You probably never knew how much I liked you, Jason.
The last time I saw you was about ten years ago. So, you became a priest. Wow...I know that you had lots of spiritual questions, I am just sort of surprised that you found the answer to them in Catholicism. But, it was nice to have you take my hand in the back of the church that day after mass. Your hand was warm and when you leaned in and whispered that you were so proud of my medical career, well...I choked up. I didn't answer because I couldn't, Jase. So, I just smiled and waved and walked away. But, later, when I was driving home from that tiny Iowa town, I thought about Bob Dylan and felt totally like we both understood Tangled Up In Blue now. And I am proud of you, too. I will never forget those nights laying on the hay wagon with you and looking at the stars.
Love, Maria.
Dear Cory,
You were the longest relationship that I ever had (well, not counting Bing, who, in the end, will be the last and only woman I end up with.) We met when we were 24 and broke up when I was 32.
The sex was incredible, girl. And we had those fantastic bodies, those winsome, lithe, twenty something bodies. I remember trying things with you in bed that no one could get me to try now. (ICE?)
I remember finding our house together, FINALLY being able to buy a house after all those crummy apartments (the one with bare bones heat, the one that had eight flights of stairs and an elevator that no one wanted to get into, the one over the pizza joint that we thought was so great when we got it and grew to hate because we were so sick of the smell of baking crust.)
I remember falling out of love with you and trying so hard not to and then trying so hard to tell you without hurting you. And failing.
I remember your slit wrists in the bathtub, coming home and thanking god that I knew how to apply a tourniquet while I waited for the ambulance to come.
I mostly remember how much you hated me when we parted, how you said that I was cold and cruel and a bitch. How you held your wrists up to me and said, "I can't believe that I almost killed myself over a loser like you."
You eventually decided to forgive me. I need to tell you that for a long, long time I thought that I had something to be forgiven for. Now, I don't believe that. I just fell out of love, Cory. I'm sorry. But, I couldn't help it.
I'm glad that you have found someone else. I'm sorry that you aren't very happy. But, now you really need to forgive me because I lied when I said that I didn't mind you calling me occasionally. I do mind. Stop calling me. Especially stop calling me when you are stoned or drunk.
Love, Maria.
Dear Van,
I am so glad that we only dated for four months. You really didn't add much to my life. I learned how to snort coke with you. I know that you thought I was a real party girl. I wasn't.....not inside. I just needed to not be alone for awhile and you served the purpose for my getaway. I think I did the same for you.
We both know the sex sucked. (And seriously, I WAS SO NOT into the whole sucking cock thing.) You pointed out every bit of cellulite on me. I believe you referred to it as my "cottage cheese thighs." I stopped believing that I was sexy for a long time because of your words. And your nightly inspections.
I am sorry that your wife died. I meant what I said at the wake. I thought she was a really interesting woman and so, so kind hearted.
Good luck to you.
Dear Utah,
Well, sweetie, it was a gas, gas, gas. You are my one success story in my short lived foray into lesbian bulletin boards online. I met a few people from that time and they were all nightmares. Not you. I met a great friend when I met you. Too bad that we tried to turn it into something it was never meant to be.
But, seriously...I LOVED our cross country trip together. I loved the music you personally picked out for us to listen to (I can't remember that song you loved so much...something about "you sleep while I drive") and I loved getting all gussied up and going out to bars after we checked into our hotel. I actually became a good dancer because you let me step on your feet during the slow dances. My favorite memory: Singing Aubrey in a Hilton hotel room in South Dakota and sitting in our underpants with our backs against the bed head board. We were both as high as kites and we ordered peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from room service at midnight.
And when the pot wore off, we talked. And talked. And talked. A friendship was born on that trip and while I know that you were disappointed at first that I couldn't be your "girlfriend", I knew that you understood in the end and you were incredibly graceful about the whole thing.
I saved most of your letters. They were so beautifully written. And going back to school to get your masters was a great decision. I love our weekly talks to check in with each other about Lost every week when it is on.
Tell L hello and give that sweet baby girl a kiss from me. Your family picture is on our mantle and you all look so fucking gorgeous. I know that you still think I am "ridiculously cold" but the truth is that I feel warm all over when we talk on the phone because hey...how did we both get so HAPPY???!! And ain't it grand?
You know I love you, bitch....
Maria.
Dear Penny,
I'm sorry that I didn't give you much of a chance. I just was a drunken mess, honey. You deserved better and I am just glad that I didn't get the chance to hurt you.
Love, Maria.
Dear Bing,
I am only writing to you because you and I tried to be together for several months and you were wonderful and I was horrible. I just wasn't ready, honey. I was a new mom and
scared that I would mess it up and you were so, so steady and reassuring. I don't know why I was so slow witted about us, why it took me so long to figure out that you were the woman for me.
All I can say is that I have grown wiser with age. And you have my word that I will NEVER let you go again.
Love, Maria
Dear Etta,
Wow. What a mistake! Well, we gave it the old college try, though. I don't know what we were thinking. I mean, we were both so much alike that a relationship should have never even been attempted. I'm glad that Liv was a baby when we met because she never really got to know you much and therefore, never had to know what it was like to get attached to someone and let them go.
I hope you found peace. I never knew what happened to you after you moved to Kansas City. I hope you are happy. And I hope your kids are too. God, they would be teenagers by now, wouldn't they?
We did have some miserable nights with our kids at Chuck E Cheese, didn't we? UGH!!
Love, Maria
Dear Tina,
Oh, god. Thank you for making me feel beautiful again. Thank you for crowing over my body like it was some gemstone. Thank you for knowing who Boo Radley was. I don't think I could have slept with someone who didn't know who he was.
Thank you, most of all for understanding that I didn't want a girlfriend, only a once in awhile bed mate. And thank you for being so fucking GOOD at that. Your wolf whistles made me smile even when I was shushing you and telling you to shut the fuck up and not wake up my daughter. Thank you for understanding why I never let you meet Liv. I just...couldn't.
And the roses. Thank you for sending me roses every year on November 21st. My partner isn't too happy with them, but she deals with it.
I learned to love my body again because of you. That was a gift, believe me.
Love, Maria
Dear Parker,
Another oh god....Thanks for being such a truly good bad boy. I loved your wicked grin. Loved your cowboy boots. Loved the way you leered at me across a room. I didn't love it that you got into fist fights. I also didn't love it that you played hookey so much from your job.
But, I liked talking with you, loved the way that you knew how to kiss me perfectly. A good kisser is such a dream. And you knew exactly how to use your smile.
The day I came into your office to help you pick out a jury was one of the most fun days of my life. And eating dinner with you and going dancing afterwards was like something out of a hot movie. I'm sorry that I didn't let you in any further. I couldn't. I meant it when I said that I had a daughter and that she came first. She still does.
Take care of yourself, my very good bad guy. And hey...you keep winning those cases.
Love, Maria.
And lastly....
Dear Bing,
It took me a fucking long time didn't it? Sorry about that. You were right, of course, I was sashaying around having too many one night stands with my bad boys and girls.
You told me yesterday that you felt that you weren't my type. Well, I beg to differ. Guess what? Harriet called me today. She and her husband saw Twilight today and she said, "I thought of you and Bing when I saw that movie...Not that Bing is a vampire, but just something about how much you both love each other and how she is so protective and sweetly adoring of you. Oh...and the way Bella trips and falls and is a total klutz...well, that is you all over, Maria."
So, maybe you are a bad girl after all, huh?
But, truly? It is the good woman in you that speaks to my soul. That doesn't sound like me, does it? I never say the gushy stuff. I should, though. Because I feel it, Bing.
I feel it right down to my toes every time I look at you. (Okay...well...most of the time anyway.)
I love the way you belong to Liv, me and Socks. And I love the way we belong to you.
You are the only woman that I want to spend the rest of my life with and you are the love of my life.
It just took me most of my life to realize that. Let's make up for lost time, okay?
I don't just love you, I ADORE you.
Maria.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Screaming like a girl, lesbian woodpeckers, and a sobering discussion with the missus
I saw a mouse last night.
UGH.
I hate those little fuckers, I really do. We knew we had them, we get them every year since we live in a sort of wooded area.
But, this year, Bing took a stand. No more setting out poison packets. She worried that a sickly mouse might make it's way outside and get eaten by a bird in our back yard. We have some gorgeous birds.
Last year, we carefully put out poison behind our fridge and behind our television set, in spots where Socks couldn't squeeze, even in his puppyhood. And we saw narry a mouse.
This year, Bing put out sticky traps, with the intention of carting the little creeps off to a nearby creek, where they could be lovely nightly specials for wildlife.
She had good intentions, I suppose.
Until, we walked in the house last night and I saw something moving out of the corner or my eye and realized that it was a large gangly mouse dragging a sticky trap behind him with his back legs.
I screamed like a girl.
And latched on to Bing with such force that she told me that she was sure we had an intruder in the house.
Well, I told her, we DID.
I hate those creepy fuckers. I see nothing Stuart Littley in them. Hate the way they can dart so quickly and make themselves so small that they can fit in a pea sized hole.
Mostly, I just hate the way they feel free to procreate and eat things that don't belong to them.
And, of course, now that I have confessed at work to having mice, everyone feels compelled to tell me a horrid mouse story.
Like the one where someone's grandparents went to go to bed one night and found two mice newleyweds cuddled up under the sheets at the end of the bed and discovered this only when they felt them with their toes and they (the mice) made a run for it.
Oh. God. Make. Me. Want. To. Throw. Up.
I know that it was irrational of me to scream that I wanted them out of my house now.
I know that I overreacted.
I don't care. That mouse just looked so....determined. He managed to drag the sticky trap with him for nearly a foot before he got disengaged from it and ran under our sofa to disappear in that maddeningly sneaky way that mice have.
Bing made the bad decision to chuckle at me and inform me that I didn't have to scream like a girl.
I told her that I would scream like a banshee the next time I saw one and that if she didn't put out poison, I would.
She wisely left me alone for a while.
I looked over at Socks, who was trying to look nonchalant.
"You know, you COULD chase them, try to catch them," I scolded him.
Socks gave me a long look.
"Mice taste yucky," he finally told me. "I don't waste my time. They are faster than squirrels and remember the last time I chased one and ended up banging my head on the fireplace? Like that wasn't humiliating? And it was in front of another dog. How embarrassing."
Bing, instead, chose to show me our woodpeckers who happened to be sitting in the maple tree in our back yard.
"Wouldn't you feel bad if a mouse ate the poison and then went outside and was eaten by Thelma and Louise?" she said.
Thelma and Louise are our resident lesbian woodpeckers.
We looked them up and discovered that they were two female birds. At first we thought they were just two of a big family but after awhile, we realized that there were just the two of them. And they nuzzle and coo and peck wood together. We decided that Thelma and Louise heard on the grapevine that two lesbians lived in this house and they decided to move in to show solidarity.
They are both gorgeous. And they don't need no stinkin' menfolk either. They are very happy, thank you very much. I actually called a local bird expert and he informed me that woodpeckers are not inclined to mate with their own sex."
Well, he needs to come see Thelma and Louise.
And, no, I told Bing, I do not want them to eat a poisoned mouse and die. But, neither do I want to have to see steroid packing mice dragging sticky traps across my dining room floor either.
I WANT THEM GONE.
Bing is stalling. I am considering trying to catch one and putting it in her pajama drawer.
I want to see her scream like girl too....
Well, we went to see Twilight today. It was pretty good. Not as good as the book.
With the exception of Jasper and James. I thought that they were perfect.
And yes, I drooled over Edward Cullen.
A grown woman drooling over a teenaged boy vampire....there are worse things.
On the way home, Bing and I had a talk. She told me that she wished that she could be more of a "bad girl" since she has known from the start that I have a thing for "bad boys and girls with a heart of gold and a conscience."
You just like a certain character. You like a bad boy or girl, not an evil boy, not a wicked girl, but you like flaws. Edward is right up your alley. A vampire who refuses to drink human blood.
I didn't know how to answer that. After all, she is right. And she must have noticed that I called my niece, Lyndsay, in the car on the way home. My sisters from Iowa and their families are coming to Nebraska for Thanksgiving, staying at my sister, Patrice's house, where we will all come together to celebrate the holiday. I told Lyndsay that I couldn't wait to see Twilight again with her when she comes.
"Is Edward gorgeous?" she asked me.
"Oh, yeah," I informed her. "This fifty year old woman had some decidedly wicked thoughts about that piece of boy cake."
Bing smiled and rolled her eyes.
I got off the phone and said, "What?"
She then went into her bit about me and bad boys and girls.
"Hey, I can go in and rob this convenience store if it will help," she said. "Can I go steal you a Snickers bar?"
I had to laugh.
Because, yes, she is right. I do love me a bad boy. Or girl. But, no. Not the ones who steal. Well, unless they give to the poor or are Butch Cassidy or the Sundance kid. No, I like the tortured bad characters.
"I think you just like complicated, flawed characters," she sighed. "I will never really be complicated or flawed."
I laughed again. "Think again," I informed her. "You have plenty of flaws...."
"Just not the right ones," she said, sighing. "But, you know what?"
"What?" I asked.
"I would protect you in an instant. You must know that. I would walk through fire for you. I would die fighting for your honor. A real bad boy, well, he would have to get through me to harm you," she said.
Well, boy howdy. If that isn't a girl after my own heart, I don't know who is.
I told her so.
She squeezed my hand and we stopped at the store to pick up an onion for the soup pot. I waited in the car. When she came out, she had a bag in her hand and gave me a huge smile when she got into the car.
She had a pair of fangs in.
I burst out laughing.
She admitted that she found them in the discount Halloween aisle. She wore them all the way home.
I just hope she can scare those fucking mice.....
Because I do know that she scared the hell out of the dog.....
UGH.
I hate those little fuckers, I really do. We knew we had them, we get them every year since we live in a sort of wooded area.
But, this year, Bing took a stand. No more setting out poison packets. She worried that a sickly mouse might make it's way outside and get eaten by a bird in our back yard. We have some gorgeous birds.
Last year, we carefully put out poison behind our fridge and behind our television set, in spots where Socks couldn't squeeze, even in his puppyhood. And we saw narry a mouse.
This year, Bing put out sticky traps, with the intention of carting the little creeps off to a nearby creek, where they could be lovely nightly specials for wildlife.
She had good intentions, I suppose.
Until, we walked in the house last night and I saw something moving out of the corner or my eye and realized that it was a large gangly mouse dragging a sticky trap behind him with his back legs.
I screamed like a girl.
And latched on to Bing with such force that she told me that she was sure we had an intruder in the house.
Well, I told her, we DID.
I hate those creepy fuckers. I see nothing Stuart Littley in them. Hate the way they can dart so quickly and make themselves so small that they can fit in a pea sized hole.
Mostly, I just hate the way they feel free to procreate and eat things that don't belong to them.
And, of course, now that I have confessed at work to having mice, everyone feels compelled to tell me a horrid mouse story.
Like the one where someone's grandparents went to go to bed one night and found two mice newleyweds cuddled up under the sheets at the end of the bed and discovered this only when they felt them with their toes and they (the mice) made a run for it.
Oh. God. Make. Me. Want. To. Throw. Up.
I know that it was irrational of me to scream that I wanted them out of my house now.
I know that I overreacted.
I don't care. That mouse just looked so....determined. He managed to drag the sticky trap with him for nearly a foot before he got disengaged from it and ran under our sofa to disappear in that maddeningly sneaky way that mice have.
Bing made the bad decision to chuckle at me and inform me that I didn't have to scream like a girl.
I told her that I would scream like a banshee the next time I saw one and that if she didn't put out poison, I would.
She wisely left me alone for a while.
I looked over at Socks, who was trying to look nonchalant.
"You know, you COULD chase them, try to catch them," I scolded him.
Socks gave me a long look.
"Mice taste yucky," he finally told me. "I don't waste my time. They are faster than squirrels and remember the last time I chased one and ended up banging my head on the fireplace? Like that wasn't humiliating? And it was in front of another dog. How embarrassing."
Bing, instead, chose to show me our woodpeckers who happened to be sitting in the maple tree in our back yard.
"Wouldn't you feel bad if a mouse ate the poison and then went outside and was eaten by Thelma and Louise?" she said.
Thelma and Louise are our resident lesbian woodpeckers.
We looked them up and discovered that they were two female birds. At first we thought they were just two of a big family but after awhile, we realized that there were just the two of them. And they nuzzle and coo and peck wood together. We decided that Thelma and Louise heard on the grapevine that two lesbians lived in this house and they decided to move in to show solidarity.
They are both gorgeous. And they don't need no stinkin' menfolk either. They are very happy, thank you very much. I actually called a local bird expert and he informed me that woodpeckers are not inclined to mate with their own sex."
Well, he needs to come see Thelma and Louise.
And, no, I told Bing, I do not want them to eat a poisoned mouse and die. But, neither do I want to have to see steroid packing mice dragging sticky traps across my dining room floor either.
I WANT THEM GONE.
Bing is stalling. I am considering trying to catch one and putting it in her pajama drawer.
I want to see her scream like girl too....
Well, we went to see Twilight today. It was pretty good. Not as good as the book.
With the exception of Jasper and James. I thought that they were perfect.
And yes, I drooled over Edward Cullen.
A grown woman drooling over a teenaged boy vampire....there are worse things.
On the way home, Bing and I had a talk. She told me that she wished that she could be more of a "bad girl" since she has known from the start that I have a thing for "bad boys and girls with a heart of gold and a conscience."
You just like a certain character. You like a bad boy or girl, not an evil boy, not a wicked girl, but you like flaws. Edward is right up your alley. A vampire who refuses to drink human blood.
I didn't know how to answer that. After all, she is right. And she must have noticed that I called my niece, Lyndsay, in the car on the way home. My sisters from Iowa and their families are coming to Nebraska for Thanksgiving, staying at my sister, Patrice's house, where we will all come together to celebrate the holiday. I told Lyndsay that I couldn't wait to see Twilight again with her when she comes.
"Is Edward gorgeous?" she asked me.
"Oh, yeah," I informed her. "This fifty year old woman had some decidedly wicked thoughts about that piece of boy cake."
Bing smiled and rolled her eyes.
I got off the phone and said, "What?"
She then went into her bit about me and bad boys and girls.
"Hey, I can go in and rob this convenience store if it will help," she said. "Can I go steal you a Snickers bar?"
I had to laugh.
Because, yes, she is right. I do love me a bad boy. Or girl. But, no. Not the ones who steal. Well, unless they give to the poor or are Butch Cassidy or the Sundance kid. No, I like the tortured bad characters.
"I think you just like complicated, flawed characters," she sighed. "I will never really be complicated or flawed."
I laughed again. "Think again," I informed her. "You have plenty of flaws...."
"Just not the right ones," she said, sighing. "But, you know what?"
"What?" I asked.
"I would protect you in an instant. You must know that. I would walk through fire for you. I would die fighting for your honor. A real bad boy, well, he would have to get through me to harm you," she said.
Well, boy howdy. If that isn't a girl after my own heart, I don't know who is.
I told her so.
She squeezed my hand and we stopped at the store to pick up an onion for the soup pot. I waited in the car. When she came out, she had a bag in her hand and gave me a huge smile when she got into the car.
She had a pair of fangs in.
I burst out laughing.
She admitted that she found them in the discount Halloween aisle. She wore them all the way home.
I just hope she can scare those fucking mice.....
Because I do know that she scared the hell out of the dog.....
Friday, November 21, 2008
Car woes, movies in the morning and bean soup on a cold day.
I almost lost my mind at work today.
In a good way. Well, sort of.
There is just SO much work. I am one person and there are so, so many federal mandates to follow. I am lucky that Elly, my secretary, has become an expert in two short weeks on billing and filing government papers.
I don't have to be bothered much with the ins and outs of the paperwork process, but the little I do have to accomplish makes me ready to scream. And it amazes me how little there is to offer to the so many who need help.
We are exploring the grant process to see if we can somehow fund a few projects. But, in the meantime, we just don't tell anyone no. Even those that we know will never pay us. Maybe we can be like Atticus Finch and have someone pay us in hickory nuts. One woman paid half of her bill today and actually brought a bag of coins and painstakingly counted out nickels and dimes.
Much of our work is paid for by the government. Some is pro bono, for those who slip in between the cracks. I am talking about the working poor. Those who don't qualify for government aid because they...um...WORK. One of our clients is the son of a waitress who works loooonnnngg shifts and sometimes when she brings him in for his session, she is limping because her feet hurt so badly. And yet, she qualifies for nothing. If she quit her job and sat home, she might fare better. But, she wants to be a role model, so she works.
I can't ever sit there and complain because my head hurts or I am nauseated. I have a home. A nice home. Good food on the table for dinner. Money for extras. This, I know, is bliss.
I was still glad that it was friday today, though. I am ready to rest up.
Although, I won't be sleeping in tomorrow. Liv is spending the night at a friend's house tonight and we don't pick her up until tomorrow afternoon, so Bing and I are going to see Twilight tomorrow morning at TEN A.M.
Yes, that is precisely how much I want to see this movie. Bing is being a good sport and has graciously agreed to be my date. She will never admit it, but I think she secretly wants to see it almost as badly as I do. Liv, of course, is too young, so this is good timing for us to go.
I'll let y'all know if the theater is full of screamingolder women teenaged girls....I already have my box of raisinettes sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for me. I usually sleep in on Saturdays, but...not this one. I will be up early and ready to prod Bing with the cattle prod if necessary, to leave the house on time.
We went to the grocery store tonight and bought all the fixings for ham and bean soup. It will go into the crock pot before we leave for the movie and when Liv gets home in the afternoon, the whole house will smell like delicious soup. We will go take Socks for a walk and come in with rosy red cheeks and cold fingers and toes and then there will be this waiting for us. There are four Autumn comfort foods that I love:
1) Ham and bean soup
2) Beef stew
3) Chili
4) Spaghetti and meatballs
What are your comfort foods when the wind is raw?
There is something just so....cozy about coming home from the cold outside and eating ham and bean soup in a nice pretty blue bowl with a soft dinner roll slathered in butter.
I am so looking forward to my day.
I wish that I had good news about our car and thank you all for your suggestions, but it is still not fixed. They do know what is wrong with it, finally. I am not sure that I understand it completely but something called the high beam indicator light was staying on continuously and bleeding the battery out. The dash panel is also messed up electronically. So, a new dash panel has been ordered, will supposedly be in on Wednesday and we can pick it up that evening after work.
So, more days of carpooling. I am being a real whiner about this. I HATE carpooling with Bing. She has to be at work at 7 (teaches at a high school), so we drop Liv off at Hal and Nora's at 6:30 and then take Bing to work and then I get to my job around 7:10. Our office doesn't open until 8, so I have been stopping off at the bakery around the corner every morning and buying myself a bagel and a cafe au lait.
I get to the office, start up the coffee machine and read my book until everyone gets in. But, I am not happy. I detest getting up at 5:30 every morning and I miss my time with Liv. So, I am not one of those people (that would be you, Bing...) who just smile and say, "Well, it could be worse. We are so lucky to have two cars!"
Instead, I sit there being a cranky ass pouter inside. I am careful not to show it on the outside, have to be a fucking role model for Liv and all that shit. But, on the inside, I am pouting, believe you me, boy howdy.
I hate it when there is car trouble. Mostly because I feel so damn useless. I suppose I could take a class in car repair but that would be productive, wouldn't it? And it is so much easier to just whine.
So...another week of it.
At least my knee is healing up finally. Yes, I did promise to relate my klutz-of-the-week story.
My bff, Harriet, and I decided to go to the Goodwill about a week ago to see if they had any collectibles in. We both collect old plates and bowls and I have some pretty impressive Royal Copenhagen floral 1922 plates that I found there and paid a whopping five bucks for. Harriet snatched up a hump back trunk once. So, we go on what we call treasure hunts.
Sometimes we are lucky, sometimes not. But, we both get all giddy when we walk in. We generally find something. Not always what we hoped for, but something. I found a beautiful purse there once. Another time, Harriet found a Mary Quant dress.
I must have been over-eager or something on that day because I somehow or other managed to lose my balance as we were walking to the door of the store. I turned my ankle crazily and lurched forwards, grabbing the first thing that I could...
which was a woman who was walking out of the store carrying a large bag.
I know what it looked like, because the woman screamed as I fell on her bags. It was clear that she thought I was some insane person who was trying to rob her in a very dramatic way.
I went down hard on my knees, tearing her bag open as I did and all these....
very large bras fell out. There must have been ten or twelve of them and several belts and several Barbie dolls too.
But, the bras are what Harriet and I remember.
I thought the woman was going to kill me. She was so fucking mad. She kept saying, "Look what you DID. Look what you DID!" over and over.
I skinned the hell out of both of my knees. I had met Harriet in the parking lot on my way home from work and so had on a dress and panty hose.
The panty hose were shreds. My knees were bleeding profusely, blood rolling down my shins in shiny streaks.
And there were those....HUGE bras....littering the sidewalk.
Harriet swooped me up and sat me down on a bench and then whipped around yanking up the woman's bras and sliding them into a new bag that a helpful employee brought out.
I apologized to the woman, who managed to still hiss angrily at me as I bled on the bench.
Good hell...I was SORRY.
I think she must have just been embarrassed at the merchandise.
I mean, as Harriet said to me later, "You just should never, ever buy bras or shoes from a Goodwill. Other stuff, sure. Lingerie and footwear. No."
The woman left. I limped into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as best as I could. Harriet knocked on the door. Asked me if I was okay. I told her that I was, but that I didn't much feel like shopping now.
So, we went back to my house for a glass of wine and some crackers.
And we ended up laughing over those bras.
Another Harriet/Maria story for us. Now, all Harriet has to do is look at me and silently mouth the word bra and we both start giggling.
They were just so...fucking...big. Mae West bras. Bras meant to be used seriously.
Bras that could hold a newborn baby in each cup.
"Jaysus, sweetie," Harriet told me. "I mean, they were just....flopping...all the hell over the place."
And, hey...my knees are still black and blue, but the scabs are healing.
And Twilight and a bowl of ham and bean soup will help. A lot.
If only the damn car was home where it belongs instead of sitting in a lonely garage, waiting for a new bra of it's own.
Have a nice weekend, y'all.
In a good way. Well, sort of.
There is just SO much work. I am one person and there are so, so many federal mandates to follow. I am lucky that Elly, my secretary, has become an expert in two short weeks on billing and filing government papers.
I don't have to be bothered much with the ins and outs of the paperwork process, but the little I do have to accomplish makes me ready to scream. And it amazes me how little there is to offer to the so many who need help.
We are exploring the grant process to see if we can somehow fund a few projects. But, in the meantime, we just don't tell anyone no. Even those that we know will never pay us. Maybe we can be like Atticus Finch and have someone pay us in hickory nuts. One woman paid half of her bill today and actually brought a bag of coins and painstakingly counted out nickels and dimes.
Much of our work is paid for by the government. Some is pro bono, for those who slip in between the cracks. I am talking about the working poor. Those who don't qualify for government aid because they...um...WORK. One of our clients is the son of a waitress who works loooonnnngg shifts and sometimes when she brings him in for his session, she is limping because her feet hurt so badly. And yet, she qualifies for nothing. If she quit her job and sat home, she might fare better. But, she wants to be a role model, so she works.
I can't ever sit there and complain because my head hurts or I am nauseated. I have a home. A nice home. Good food on the table for dinner. Money for extras. This, I know, is bliss.
I was still glad that it was friday today, though. I am ready to rest up.
Although, I won't be sleeping in tomorrow. Liv is spending the night at a friend's house tonight and we don't pick her up until tomorrow afternoon, so Bing and I are going to see Twilight tomorrow morning at TEN A.M.
Yes, that is precisely how much I want to see this movie. Bing is being a good sport and has graciously agreed to be my date. She will never admit it, but I think she secretly wants to see it almost as badly as I do. Liv, of course, is too young, so this is good timing for us to go.
I'll let y'all know if the theater is full of screaming
We went to the grocery store tonight and bought all the fixings for ham and bean soup. It will go into the crock pot before we leave for the movie and when Liv gets home in the afternoon, the whole house will smell like delicious soup. We will go take Socks for a walk and come in with rosy red cheeks and cold fingers and toes and then there will be this waiting for us. There are four Autumn comfort foods that I love:
1) Ham and bean soup
2) Beef stew
3) Chili
4) Spaghetti and meatballs
What are your comfort foods when the wind is raw?
There is something just so....cozy about coming home from the cold outside and eating ham and bean soup in a nice pretty blue bowl with a soft dinner roll slathered in butter.
I am so looking forward to my day.
I wish that I had good news about our car and thank you all for your suggestions, but it is still not fixed. They do know what is wrong with it, finally. I am not sure that I understand it completely but something called the high beam indicator light was staying on continuously and bleeding the battery out. The dash panel is also messed up electronically. So, a new dash panel has been ordered, will supposedly be in on Wednesday and we can pick it up that evening after work.
So, more days of carpooling. I am being a real whiner about this. I HATE carpooling with Bing. She has to be at work at 7 (teaches at a high school), so we drop Liv off at Hal and Nora's at 6:30 and then take Bing to work and then I get to my job around 7:10. Our office doesn't open until 8, so I have been stopping off at the bakery around the corner every morning and buying myself a bagel and a cafe au lait.
I get to the office, start up the coffee machine and read my book until everyone gets in. But, I am not happy. I detest getting up at 5:30 every morning and I miss my time with Liv. So, I am not one of those people (that would be you, Bing...) who just smile and say, "Well, it could be worse. We are so lucky to have two cars!"
Instead, I sit there being a cranky ass pouter inside. I am careful not to show it on the outside, have to be a fucking role model for Liv and all that shit. But, on the inside, I am pouting, believe you me, boy howdy.
I hate it when there is car trouble. Mostly because I feel so damn useless. I suppose I could take a class in car repair but that would be productive, wouldn't it? And it is so much easier to just whine.
So...another week of it.
At least my knee is healing up finally. Yes, I did promise to relate my klutz-of-the-week story.
My bff, Harriet, and I decided to go to the Goodwill about a week ago to see if they had any collectibles in. We both collect old plates and bowls and I have some pretty impressive Royal Copenhagen floral 1922 plates that I found there and paid a whopping five bucks for. Harriet snatched up a hump back trunk once. So, we go on what we call treasure hunts.
Sometimes we are lucky, sometimes not. But, we both get all giddy when we walk in. We generally find something. Not always what we hoped for, but something. I found a beautiful purse there once. Another time, Harriet found a Mary Quant dress.
I must have been over-eager or something on that day because I somehow or other managed to lose my balance as we were walking to the door of the store. I turned my ankle crazily and lurched forwards, grabbing the first thing that I could...
which was a woman who was walking out of the store carrying a large bag.
I know what it looked like, because the woman screamed as I fell on her bags. It was clear that she thought I was some insane person who was trying to rob her in a very dramatic way.
I went down hard on my knees, tearing her bag open as I did and all these....
very large bras fell out. There must have been ten or twelve of them and several belts and several Barbie dolls too.
But, the bras are what Harriet and I remember.
I thought the woman was going to kill me. She was so fucking mad. She kept saying, "Look what you DID. Look what you DID!" over and over.
I skinned the hell out of both of my knees. I had met Harriet in the parking lot on my way home from work and so had on a dress and panty hose.
The panty hose were shreds. My knees were bleeding profusely, blood rolling down my shins in shiny streaks.
And there were those....HUGE bras....littering the sidewalk.
Harriet swooped me up and sat me down on a bench and then whipped around yanking up the woman's bras and sliding them into a new bag that a helpful employee brought out.
I apologized to the woman, who managed to still hiss angrily at me as I bled on the bench.
Good hell...I was SORRY.
I think she must have just been embarrassed at the merchandise.
I mean, as Harriet said to me later, "You just should never, ever buy bras or shoes from a Goodwill. Other stuff, sure. Lingerie and footwear. No."
The woman left. I limped into the bathroom and cleaned myself up as best as I could. Harriet knocked on the door. Asked me if I was okay. I told her that I was, but that I didn't much feel like shopping now.
So, we went back to my house for a glass of wine and some crackers.
And we ended up laughing over those bras.
Another Harriet/Maria story for us. Now, all Harriet has to do is look at me and silently mouth the word bra and we both start giggling.
They were just so...fucking...big. Mae West bras. Bras meant to be used seriously.
Bras that could hold a newborn baby in each cup.
"Jaysus, sweetie," Harriet told me. "I mean, they were just....flopping...all the hell over the place."
And, hey...my knees are still black and blue, but the scabs are healing.
And Twilight and a bowl of ham and bean soup will help. A lot.
If only the damn car was home where it belongs instead of sitting in a lonely garage, waiting for a new bra of it's own.
Have a nice weekend, y'all.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
"Tis A Gift
"Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be...."
Simple Gifts by Joseph Brackett
That song is me lately.
I sat at my desk today. I was tired, I was nauseated. But, I was also...content.
In a way that I haven't been in a long time in my career.
There is something to be said for being in a place where one fits. It is like I've been wearing the wrong size shoes for years or something and now I have this wonderful pair of slippers that fit just perfectly.
I am loving my job. I don't love working, especially. But, when I walk through those doors every morning, I feel good inside. And when I leave, I feel as if I have made a difference in a child's life.
I enjoy the people that I work with. Everyone is easy going and laid back, yet all are hard working and willing to go the extra mile.
When that sort of attitude prevails, the job just fucking clicks, dude.
I am getting to know the neighborhood. There is the chicken shack down the block that has the best fried chicken that I have ever eaten. My mouth waters when I drive by every morning. At SEVEN FORTY FIVE. A.M.
There is Tomas, the barber. He is always in his shop across the street when I get to work. And there is always someone in his chair getting their hair styled or sheared. Once, I asked him if he did women's hair and he squinted at my head for a moment and said that he thought he could do mine. Maybe I will take him up on it.
Our mail carrier is Curtis. He smiles all the time. And he carries tootsie rolls in his pocket and hands them out to the kids in the lobby (with the permission of their parent.)
There is a bus driver who picks up an elderly woman every single day in front of our clinic. He literally stops the bus, gets out and escorts her up the steep bus steps because it is obvious that she needs help.
I just feel as if I belong in this place. As if I can make a difference, an impact. I see lots of tough cases. We get referrals from child abuse agencies, see lots of what we call "system kids"...kids who get juggled in the system so often that they are full of anger and confusion. Some are developmentally delayed. Some, I believe, are just so damn pissed off and do not want to deal anymore.
I like those ones the best. I decided right from the start that no kid would fall through the cracks on my watch. I hope that doesn't sound like a braggart, like I think I am sumpin' sumpin'. I just know that I want to matter and that I will do everything I can to help.
I like some of the parents and caregivers, not all. Many, I believe, should never have had children. Many lie. But, I try to avoid judgment and tell myself to simply treat the problem, not rail at the caregivers. If I can get through to them, great. If not, well...just deal with the problem at hand and hope that, in time, they will see the necessity of change.
One of the rules of our office is that everyone gets treated with respect. Everyone.
I come home at night tired. Very tired. But, there is always a story to share at the dinner table. And boy howdy, do I sleep like a rock.
There is a shelter a few blocks from where I work. Bing, Liv and I occasionally serve meals there. We have talked about signing up to serve once a week. It will be good for us. Nothing like seeing real need, real pain, to break one out of their own pity party.
I feel myself healing in this place. I don't understand how, but I just know it. I AM healing. And part of it is because I am exactly where I need and want to be. I feel my body responding to all the wheels being set in perfect motion. My spirit and my body are on the same track now.
It is powerful medicine.
So, it has made me curious. What is your job? What is your career? Are you in sync too? Do you feel as if you have landed where you need to be?
And...before I forget...thank you to all of those who saw the recent post I deleted about Liv and her chance to go to Kenya with her father. I regret (okay, that is a lie...I am secretly relieved) that right after I posted that to my blog, Tinton found out that the funds had been readjusted and he did not have the job.
So, no Kenya.
(Whew! Just whew...I admit that this makes for much easier sleeping for me.)
And back to the question at hand...
If you aren't in the job of your dreams...what IS the job of your dreams?
And P.S....
I have a funny story to tell next time. In case I forget, remind me to tell you about the big FALL I took in a Goodwill. Yes, it is funny. Or...maybe it will be funny for me in time....At any rate, I was with my bff, Harriet, and she swears that it was the "most fucking hilarious part of my week".....And I have the SKINNED knee to prove it.
And P.P.S...
A question for all of you auto mechanic types. Here is the description of what is wrong with my car. Any ideas?
Last month, I went to start my car and it just made a clicking sound when I turned the key. Bing thought it might be the battery, so we took it in to Gris, our car repair guy. He could find nothing else wrong with it, all checked out fine, so he put a new battery in. This seemed to do the trick.
Fast forward a month later. Same thing. I went to start the car and it just clicked. We took the car back to Gris. He told us that, again, everything else checked out fine, so we must have gotten a bad battery. He put another one in, no charge.
The next few days were okay. And then last weekend, I went to start it...and the SAME damn thing. It just clicked. Our neighbor has been charging up the battery for us and it always starts right up. We have also noticed that several LED lights seem to slip on after the car has been shut off (those little lights that indicate if you are low on gas, etc.) Bing thought that they might be draining the battery, but the car repair guys say that they don't have enough power to completely drain a battery, although....them turning on is not good.
Right now, the car is sitting in a shop that specializes in "tricky electrical" problems. We will probably know today or tomorrow what is wrong. Anyone care to venture a guess?
Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be...."
Simple Gifts by Joseph Brackett
That song is me lately.
I sat at my desk today. I was tired, I was nauseated. But, I was also...content.
In a way that I haven't been in a long time in my career.
There is something to be said for being in a place where one fits. It is like I've been wearing the wrong size shoes for years or something and now I have this wonderful pair of slippers that fit just perfectly.
I am loving my job. I don't love working, especially. But, when I walk through those doors every morning, I feel good inside. And when I leave, I feel as if I have made a difference in a child's life.
I enjoy the people that I work with. Everyone is easy going and laid back, yet all are hard working and willing to go the extra mile.
When that sort of attitude prevails, the job just fucking clicks, dude.
I am getting to know the neighborhood. There is the chicken shack down the block that has the best fried chicken that I have ever eaten. My mouth waters when I drive by every morning. At SEVEN FORTY FIVE. A.M.
There is Tomas, the barber. He is always in his shop across the street when I get to work. And there is always someone in his chair getting their hair styled or sheared. Once, I asked him if he did women's hair and he squinted at my head for a moment and said that he thought he could do mine. Maybe I will take him up on it.
Our mail carrier is Curtis. He smiles all the time. And he carries tootsie rolls in his pocket and hands them out to the kids in the lobby (with the permission of their parent.)
There is a bus driver who picks up an elderly woman every single day in front of our clinic. He literally stops the bus, gets out and escorts her up the steep bus steps because it is obvious that she needs help.
I just feel as if I belong in this place. As if I can make a difference, an impact. I see lots of tough cases. We get referrals from child abuse agencies, see lots of what we call "system kids"...kids who get juggled in the system so often that they are full of anger and confusion. Some are developmentally delayed. Some, I believe, are just so damn pissed off and do not want to deal anymore.
I like those ones the best. I decided right from the start that no kid would fall through the cracks on my watch. I hope that doesn't sound like a braggart, like I think I am sumpin' sumpin'. I just know that I want to matter and that I will do everything I can to help.
I like some of the parents and caregivers, not all. Many, I believe, should never have had children. Many lie. But, I try to avoid judgment and tell myself to simply treat the problem, not rail at the caregivers. If I can get through to them, great. If not, well...just deal with the problem at hand and hope that, in time, they will see the necessity of change.
One of the rules of our office is that everyone gets treated with respect. Everyone.
I come home at night tired. Very tired. But, there is always a story to share at the dinner table. And boy howdy, do I sleep like a rock.
There is a shelter a few blocks from where I work. Bing, Liv and I occasionally serve meals there. We have talked about signing up to serve once a week. It will be good for us. Nothing like seeing real need, real pain, to break one out of their own pity party.
I feel myself healing in this place. I don't understand how, but I just know it. I AM healing. And part of it is because I am exactly where I need and want to be. I feel my body responding to all the wheels being set in perfect motion. My spirit and my body are on the same track now.
It is powerful medicine.
So, it has made me curious. What is your job? What is your career? Are you in sync too? Do you feel as if you have landed where you need to be?
And...before I forget...thank you to all of those who saw the recent post I deleted about Liv and her chance to go to Kenya with her father. I regret (okay, that is a lie...I am secretly relieved) that right after I posted that to my blog, Tinton found out that the funds had been readjusted and he did not have the job.
So, no Kenya.
(Whew! Just whew...I admit that this makes for much easier sleeping for me.)
And back to the question at hand...
If you aren't in the job of your dreams...what IS the job of your dreams?
And P.S....
I have a funny story to tell next time. In case I forget, remind me to tell you about the big FALL I took in a Goodwill. Yes, it is funny. Or...maybe it will be funny for me in time....At any rate, I was with my bff, Harriet, and she swears that it was the "most fucking hilarious part of my week".....And I have the SKINNED knee to prove it.
And P.P.S...
A question for all of you auto mechanic types. Here is the description of what is wrong with my car. Any ideas?
Last month, I went to start my car and it just made a clicking sound when I turned the key. Bing thought it might be the battery, so we took it in to Gris, our car repair guy. He could find nothing else wrong with it, all checked out fine, so he put a new battery in. This seemed to do the trick.
Fast forward a month later. Same thing. I went to start the car and it just clicked. We took the car back to Gris. He told us that, again, everything else checked out fine, so we must have gotten a bad battery. He put another one in, no charge.
The next few days were okay. And then last weekend, I went to start it...and the SAME damn thing. It just clicked. Our neighbor has been charging up the battery for us and it always starts right up. We have also noticed that several LED lights seem to slip on after the car has been shut off (those little lights that indicate if you are low on gas, etc.) Bing thought that they might be draining the battery, but the car repair guys say that they don't have enough power to completely drain a battery, although....them turning on is not good.
Right now, the car is sitting in a shop that specializes in "tricky electrical" problems. We will probably know today or tomorrow what is wrong. Anyone care to venture a guess?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Until I get back....
Ugh. Feeling like shit again. I have come to the conclusion that the one good thing about being this sick so much of the time is that I have a new appreciation for good days when I have them.
1) Waking up and not having a blinding headache feels like someone gave me a present.
2) Holding down food is fun.
3) My hair always was too thick. Now, it is very sleek. Thin and mousey, but sleek.
4) The feeling that the house gets at sundown is so...comforting. The house quiets and sounds become muted. The softness in the house makes me feel like I am content and taken care of gently.
5) Any day without makeup and heels is wonderful.
6) The good part about a job like mine is that there is always someone who has a life that is so much harder than mine. I only have to look across my desk.
7) I finally lost those seven pounds from last Christmas....just in time for THIS holiday season. Of course, my doctor has told me that I really need to GAIN about ten pounds. I never thought I would see the day when I could drink a malt and not have to feel guilty. Of course, food no longer sounds good and that is a problem. But, having Bing try to entice me to eat by offering to get me foods like Krispy Kreme doughnuts is interesting.
8) Sleep is always beckoning me, tweaking it's finger at me, drawing me into my bed with the soft linens like some sort of illicit drug. I no longer battle insomnia. Now, just trying to stay awake past seven is an art.
So, until I get back to myself a little more, I'm asking you for one small favor. And c'mon....I don't ask for that fucking much. And I will pull the guilt card...
A very sick woman is asking you to watch this short video.
PLEASE? It will take six minutes out of your busy day and would mean a lot to me.
And, I'll see you on the flip side. After I feel better and stop feeling so cranky that I missed the Husker and Huskie games yesterday because I could not get out of the bed.
So, do you feel guilty yet?
Just please....take a look see. For me. I'm not asking for the moon here.
And when I get back I have some either really exciting news or some really horrible news about Liv going on a yearly sabbatical with her father, depending on how you look at it. I choose to look at it as exciting, although my heart is screaming...NO!
So, chew on that until I get back, okay?
1) Waking up and not having a blinding headache feels like someone gave me a present.
2) Holding down food is fun.
3) My hair always was too thick. Now, it is very sleek. Thin and mousey, but sleek.
4) The feeling that the house gets at sundown is so...comforting. The house quiets and sounds become muted. The softness in the house makes me feel like I am content and taken care of gently.
5) Any day without makeup and heels is wonderful.
6) The good part about a job like mine is that there is always someone who has a life that is so much harder than mine. I only have to look across my desk.
7) I finally lost those seven pounds from last Christmas....just in time for THIS holiday season. Of course, my doctor has told me that I really need to GAIN about ten pounds. I never thought I would see the day when I could drink a malt and not have to feel guilty. Of course, food no longer sounds good and that is a problem. But, having Bing try to entice me to eat by offering to get me foods like Krispy Kreme doughnuts is interesting.
8) Sleep is always beckoning me, tweaking it's finger at me, drawing me into my bed with the soft linens like some sort of illicit drug. I no longer battle insomnia. Now, just trying to stay awake past seven is an art.
So, until I get back to myself a little more, I'm asking you for one small favor. And c'mon....I don't ask for that fucking much. And I will pull the guilt card...
A very sick woman is asking you to watch this short video.
PLEASE? It will take six minutes out of your busy day and would mean a lot to me.
And, I'll see you on the flip side. After I feel better and stop feeling so cranky that I missed the Husker and Huskie games yesterday because I could not get out of the bed.
So, do you feel guilty yet?
Just please....take a look see. For me. I'm not asking for the moon here.
And when I get back I have some either really exciting news or some really horrible news about Liv going on a yearly sabbatical with her father, depending on how you look at it. I choose to look at it as exciting, although my heart is screaming...NO!
So, chew on that until I get back, okay?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The Right Stuff
My car wouldn't start on Monday morning.
Ugh. Like Monday isn't a bitch as is?
Bing had left early for work that day, had purchased a few Winter coats (as she does every year...so many teachers I know do this..) and wanted to get to work early to pass them out to some of her students whom she had noticed did not have coats.
So, I told Liv to grab her back pack and lunch box and get in the car, it was time for me to drop her off at Hal and Nora's house on my way to work.
And the car wouldn't start. Again. The same damn thing happened about a month ago. I turned the key and...click, click, click. The last time, Bing had jumped the battery and we were able to drive it to our car repair guy, Gris (short for Grisly Bear, I have no idea what his real name is..he's always been Gris...and looks the part.)
I said a bad word, as Liv would say. A very bad word. So, I was a bad example to my daughter. Bite me. It hardly ever happens. Let me off the hook.
We went back into the house. It was raining buckets outside and a cold, biting wind along with it. Ugh. Ugh.
I called Gris. Told him my predicament. He agreed to come over and tow it to his shop. He actually has a spare garage door opener. We are frequent customers.
Then, I called my sister to see if she could take me to work.
BRRRRNNNG. BBRRRNNNGG.
Patrice: Hello?
Maria: Hi, Patrice. I have a big favor to ask of you.
P: Okay...
M: Can you give me a ride to work today? My car won't start?
P: Again? What's wrong with it?
So...I tell her in a nutshell what is going on. Ask her again if she can drive me to work. She was the best person I could think of. She doesn't work, is rich...so a long ride won't bust her gas budget, and well...SHE IS MY SISTER.
P: Um...you want a ride all the way down to the 'hood?
M: I would like a ride to work. Can you take me?
P: Well...I dunno. It is so dark and rainy. And that is a bad area of the city. I just...I ...
I now hear her husband in the background, asking what is going on. Patrice tells him that I need a ride to work. I hear him say (as only he can, in his snide, beer gutty way), "HELL NO. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU RISKING YOUR LIFE AND OUR AUTOMOBILE BY TAKING IT DOWN TO NIGGER TOWN. I WILL NOT ALLOW MY WIFE TO DRIVE DOWN THERE. YOU TELL YOUR NAIVE SISTER THAT IT IS NOT OUR BUSINESS THAT SHE CHOOSES TO WORK IN THAT GOD AWFUL AREA, BUT BY GOD, HER SISTER IS NOT A FOOL. NO WAY WILL I ALLOW YOU TO SET FOOT DOWN THERE!"
I tell Patrice that I heard what her idiotic husband said.
P: Well, I'm sorry, honey. But, you know, I agree with him on this one. I can't control what you do. I have no idea why you would throw away a perfectly grand job in that nice, clean hospital that was so near to your home to go put your life at risk daily by working in that neighborhood. But, I'm sorry. Tom is right. It is too dangerous for anyone sane to drive down there. What if they jump my car after I drop you off? I am an older woman, driving alone!
I am so mad that I can barely speak. I finally just say in a very flat voice,
M: So, no. Well, thanks a bunch.
P: (getting uppity now...she wants to justify her behavior) And maybe that is why your car broke down. Maybe they have been tinkering with it while you have been inside at work, maybe they have been trying to sabotage it!
I have to laugh. I mean FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!
I tell her that it did the same thing last month when I was at the hospital. Did she think that it was getting sabotaged there as well?
No answer. Just huffy breathing.
P: I'm sorry, Maria. But, you made a poor decision to work down there. You can't expect me to put myself in danger just because you are this die hard liberal who believes that you won't get hurt in the highest crime area of the city.
I don't bother trying to explain. Why waste more time? I say goodbye and hang up. Later she will call me and try very hard to behave as if nothing has happened. I will not let her get away with this and I will be as cold as ice on the phone.
I wanted to tell her that I feel perfectly safe down there. That by refusing to take me to work, she is showing her true colors. And they aren't pretty.
Instead, I walk Liv over to Hal and Nora's house.
Nora answers with her finger to her lips. Tells us that Hal was up sick all night and he is finally asleep.
I tell Nora my predicament and before I can even ask her, she offers to drive me to work. I hem and haw a little, but take her up on the offer.
She asks me if The Heart Cafe is still down there. I tell her that it certainly is, and that Bambi still runs the joint. Bambi is probably the least suited person to her name that I know. She makes Queen Latifah look like a skinny, short wisp of a girl. And besides that, Bambi wears her hair in these huge towering updos. She looks like she has a loopy bird cage on her head frequently.
Nora turns to smile at Liv, tells her that after they drop me off, they will stop in at The Heart Cafe and get themselves some of Bambi's famous chocolate chip pancakes before school.
"Bring your school satchel with you," she tells Liv. Liv and I smile a little at each other. Nora always calls Liv's back pack her satchel. We think this is quaint.
Nora says that she will quiz Liv on her multiplication while they eat breakfast.
So, they take me to work. And go have pancakes. Liv tells me later that evening that she ate FOUR pancakes and so did Nora...
And it occurs to me that Nora has the right stuff. And that my sister, the rock of her church, the one who professes to love Jesus with her whole heart and Catholic soul, does not have the right stuff.
I work down there. In "the 'hood."
I have never been attacked. I have seen incredible poverty. And incredible kindnesses. There is a homeless man who refuses to come off the street, isn't interested in staying at a shelter, etc. So, the community does what it can for him. People stop and hand him breakfast burritos. Cartons of milk and juice. Someone makes sure he has a warm coat.
Next door to my clinic is a small grocery that sells the best bbq in their deli that you have ever eaten.
Yes, it is a high crime rated part of the city. But, I am not frightened walking to my car. And I certainly don't worry about them. You know who my "sainted" sister was referring to.
I think there is more to be afraid of in a too rich man with a huge potbelly, a mean spirited mouth and a prejudiced mind.
I'm glad that Nora took me to work. It was raining out, but she, Liv and I talked pleasantly all the way there. I would have never had a good talk like that with my sister. She would have been scanning the streets for roving bands of....them.
The car is still in the shop as of Tuesday night. So, Bing and I are carpooling. Fingers crossed that Gris gets it properly fixed this time, although he is grumbling about the problem being "electrical" which Bing says is not good news.
And Patrice has not called back or offered to help.
Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.
I know what happened at her house after we hung up. She probably turned to her husband and said, "Well, she isn't happy with me!"
And her husband probably chuckled and said that well...Maria made her bed and now she has to lie in it. He probably said that I was so lucky that my car hadn't broken down in the 'hood. And then Patrice went back to doing her daily crossword puzzle while he went into his newly remodeled office with the new jacuzzi in his adjacent bathroom to send out his daily ration of stupid jokes via e-mail, usually jokes about Barrack Obama.
Too bad they missed those pancakes, because I hear they were excellent.
Ugh. Like Monday isn't a bitch as is?
Bing had left early for work that day, had purchased a few Winter coats (as she does every year...so many teachers I know do this..) and wanted to get to work early to pass them out to some of her students whom she had noticed did not have coats.
So, I told Liv to grab her back pack and lunch box and get in the car, it was time for me to drop her off at Hal and Nora's house on my way to work.
And the car wouldn't start. Again. The same damn thing happened about a month ago. I turned the key and...click, click, click. The last time, Bing had jumped the battery and we were able to drive it to our car repair guy, Gris (short for Grisly Bear, I have no idea what his real name is..he's always been Gris...and looks the part.)
I said a bad word, as Liv would say. A very bad word. So, I was a bad example to my daughter. Bite me. It hardly ever happens. Let me off the hook.
We went back into the house. It was raining buckets outside and a cold, biting wind along with it. Ugh. Ugh.
I called Gris. Told him my predicament. He agreed to come over and tow it to his shop. He actually has a spare garage door opener. We are frequent customers.
Then, I called my sister to see if she could take me to work.
BRRRRNNNG. BBRRRNNNGG.
Patrice: Hello?
Maria: Hi, Patrice. I have a big favor to ask of you.
P: Okay...
M: Can you give me a ride to work today? My car won't start?
P: Again? What's wrong with it?
So...I tell her in a nutshell what is going on. Ask her again if she can drive me to work. She was the best person I could think of. She doesn't work, is rich...so a long ride won't bust her gas budget, and well...SHE IS MY SISTER.
P: Um...you want a ride all the way down to the 'hood?
M: I would like a ride to work. Can you take me?
P: Well...I dunno. It is so dark and rainy. And that is a bad area of the city. I just...I ...
I now hear her husband in the background, asking what is going on. Patrice tells him that I need a ride to work. I hear him say (as only he can, in his snide, beer gutty way), "HELL NO. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU RISKING YOUR LIFE AND OUR AUTOMOBILE BY TAKING IT DOWN TO NIGGER TOWN. I WILL NOT ALLOW MY WIFE TO DRIVE DOWN THERE. YOU TELL YOUR NAIVE SISTER THAT IT IS NOT OUR BUSINESS THAT SHE CHOOSES TO WORK IN THAT GOD AWFUL AREA, BUT BY GOD, HER SISTER IS NOT A FOOL. NO WAY WILL I ALLOW YOU TO SET FOOT DOWN THERE!"
I tell Patrice that I heard what her idiotic husband said.
P: Well, I'm sorry, honey. But, you know, I agree with him on this one. I can't control what you do. I have no idea why you would throw away a perfectly grand job in that nice, clean hospital that was so near to your home to go put your life at risk daily by working in that neighborhood. But, I'm sorry. Tom is right. It is too dangerous for anyone sane to drive down there. What if they jump my car after I drop you off? I am an older woman, driving alone!
I am so mad that I can barely speak. I finally just say in a very flat voice,
M: So, no. Well, thanks a bunch.
P: (getting uppity now...she wants to justify her behavior) And maybe that is why your car broke down. Maybe they have been tinkering with it while you have been inside at work, maybe they have been trying to sabotage it!
I have to laugh. I mean FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!
I tell her that it did the same thing last month when I was at the hospital. Did she think that it was getting sabotaged there as well?
No answer. Just huffy breathing.
P: I'm sorry, Maria. But, you made a poor decision to work down there. You can't expect me to put myself in danger just because you are this die hard liberal who believes that you won't get hurt in the highest crime area of the city.
I don't bother trying to explain. Why waste more time? I say goodbye and hang up. Later she will call me and try very hard to behave as if nothing has happened. I will not let her get away with this and I will be as cold as ice on the phone.
I wanted to tell her that I feel perfectly safe down there. That by refusing to take me to work, she is showing her true colors. And they aren't pretty.
Instead, I walk Liv over to Hal and Nora's house.
Nora answers with her finger to her lips. Tells us that Hal was up sick all night and he is finally asleep.
I tell Nora my predicament and before I can even ask her, she offers to drive me to work. I hem and haw a little, but take her up on the offer.
She asks me if The Heart Cafe is still down there. I tell her that it certainly is, and that Bambi still runs the joint. Bambi is probably the least suited person to her name that I know. She makes Queen Latifah look like a skinny, short wisp of a girl. And besides that, Bambi wears her hair in these huge towering updos. She looks like she has a loopy bird cage on her head frequently.
Nora turns to smile at Liv, tells her that after they drop me off, they will stop in at The Heart Cafe and get themselves some of Bambi's famous chocolate chip pancakes before school.
"Bring your school satchel with you," she tells Liv. Liv and I smile a little at each other. Nora always calls Liv's back pack her satchel. We think this is quaint.
Nora says that she will quiz Liv on her multiplication while they eat breakfast.
So, they take me to work. And go have pancakes. Liv tells me later that evening that she ate FOUR pancakes and so did Nora...
And it occurs to me that Nora has the right stuff. And that my sister, the rock of her church, the one who professes to love Jesus with her whole heart and Catholic soul, does not have the right stuff.
I work down there. In "the 'hood."
I have never been attacked. I have seen incredible poverty. And incredible kindnesses. There is a homeless man who refuses to come off the street, isn't interested in staying at a shelter, etc. So, the community does what it can for him. People stop and hand him breakfast burritos. Cartons of milk and juice. Someone makes sure he has a warm coat.
Next door to my clinic is a small grocery that sells the best bbq in their deli that you have ever eaten.
Yes, it is a high crime rated part of the city. But, I am not frightened walking to my car. And I certainly don't worry about them. You know who my "sainted" sister was referring to.
I think there is more to be afraid of in a too rich man with a huge potbelly, a mean spirited mouth and a prejudiced mind.
I'm glad that Nora took me to work. It was raining out, but she, Liv and I talked pleasantly all the way there. I would have never had a good talk like that with my sister. She would have been scanning the streets for roving bands of....them.
The car is still in the shop as of Tuesday night. So, Bing and I are carpooling. Fingers crossed that Gris gets it properly fixed this time, although he is grumbling about the problem being "electrical" which Bing says is not good news.
And Patrice has not called back or offered to help.
Surprise. Surprise. Surprise.
I know what happened at her house after we hung up. She probably turned to her husband and said, "Well, she isn't happy with me!"
And her husband probably chuckled and said that well...Maria made her bed and now she has to lie in it. He probably said that I was so lucky that my car hadn't broken down in the 'hood. And then Patrice went back to doing her daily crossword puzzle while he went into his newly remodeled office with the new jacuzzi in his adjacent bathroom to send out his daily ration of stupid jokes via e-mail, usually jokes about Barrack Obama.
Too bad they missed those pancakes, because I hear they were excellent.
Sunday, November 09, 2008
From Socks with love
An idea stolen right out from under Middle Girl.
Okay, listen up, humans...
It's Socks. The dog. Yes. THAT dog. The one that alpha woman writes about as if I am some quirky sweet little canine.
I am much smarter than she thinks. I have feelings. I have opinions. Not that anyone asks me....
Basically, I have a pretty good life. With a few exceptions. My one complaint is that now everyone leaves me alone all day long. It used to be that beta woman and the kid would leave every day, but alpha woman would stay home and take me for long walks every morning. Now...no. All three humans leave in the morning and I am left all by myself ALL DAY LONG.
Until it is dark and I am ready to pee my fur. Finally, they all come home and Liv sometimes has to be told TWICE to open the back door and let me out even though I am standing right there whining and begging and scratching. I would like to see one of THEM be made to hold their bladder as long as I do. Alpha woman, in particular, would never make it. That woman pees about every hour on the hour. I know because I like to follow her around and when I walk in when she is on the toilet, she tells me to give her some privacy. Like I get any? Nope. They not only watch me go, but one of them picks up my shit after I go too. They put it in a baggie and throw it in the trash. How strange is that?
The food is pretty basic around here. Beta woman fills my bowl with dry dog food every morning and the kid washes out my water dish. Beta woman has a rule that no one is supposed to feed me "people food." And hey...why is it called that? Like humans have a monopoly on the good stuff? But, alpha woman sneaks me food frequently. We have a deal. I don't jump and beg for a bite when beta woman is around and then she shares whatever she has when beta isn't around. Beta must have something against me, I dunno. All I know is that if she catches anyone feeding me even a tiny scrap of leftover chicken, she yells, "DO NOT FEED PEOPLE FOOD TO THE DOG. HIS STOMACH IS NOT MEANT TO BE FED PEOPLE FOOD!"
Bullshit. My stomach can take anything. I once ate a napkin and lived to tell the tale. I think beta just doesn't like sharing. Alpha is good about sharing and so is the kid. When the kid has a popsicle, she gives me a lick when no one is looking.
I sleep with the kid too. She is warm and there is a window at the end of her bed that has a good view of the moon. Alpha woman snores and beta woman does not believe that dogs should be allowed to sleep on the bed. Honestly, I don't know why she seems to think it is okay to be so prejudiced. I have never done anything to deserve that treatment.
Beta woman seems to like me okay, she just isn't a petter. She smiles at me sometimes and pats me once in a while. We take a run together every morning. I am now faster than she is....heh, heh, heh. She sometimes pulls on my leash and tells me to "slow down, boy." JAYSUS CHRIST. IT is freakin' COLD out there in the mornings. If we run fast, we warm up better. I LOVE to run. I feel like UNDERDOG when I run, like I could fly if I wanted to. Doesn't anyone understand that?
Sometimes when they take me to the park, they unleash me and let me run around by myself in the wooded area. The kid always gets scared and says, "What if he runs away, Mama?" Alpha woman always says, "He won't. He loves us, baby." And then beta woman snorts and chuckles and says, "He knows who feeds him, Maria. He's no fool."
The truth is that I do love them. But, I also know who feeds me and I am no fool. I don't intend to live in the woods. I've seen the sort of animals who live there. Give me the kid's bed any day. A nice warm blanket and a bowl of food, even dry dog food, is better than chasing squirrels (who, by the way, are MEAN and TEASERS.)
Alpha woman takes a lot of naps, lately. And she lets me get on the bed with her. She doesn't care if it bugs beta woman and for some reason, beta never complains when I nap with alpha. She sometimes stands in the doorway with her arms crossed and watches alpha sleep. Sometimes the kid gets in with us. Sometimes beta does too. But, mostly it is just me and alpha. Alpha snores sometimes. I take it as long as I can and then I very politely get up and jump quietly off of the bed. How can I sleep with that racket? It's nice, though, before she falls asleep. She pets me and rubs my ears exactly the way I like and kisses me and whispers soft words into my ear. I like that.
The kid tells me everything. She pretty much likes me in her lap as much I want to be there. She sits cross legged and I sit in the bowl she makes with her legs. We discuss things. Well, she does. I mostly listen, but the kid understands me. We communicate telepathically too. I know that the kid wants to be a mathematician when she grows up. I know that she misses her father and wishes that he lived next door. I know that she thinks her mama is smart, but not as smart as she used to think she was. I know that she gets really mad at beta sometimes, thinks she is bossy and has no right to boss her around since she isn't her mother. She loves beta, but she gets annoyed with her too. Just like me. I know that constance is her best friend but that sometimes constance says that candace is her best friend and that makes the kid feel bad. I know that the kid likes to draw and that she wants an electric guitar for Christmas. She doesn't believe in santa anymore but she thinks that if she pretends that she does, she might get more presents. I told her to play it safe and keep pretending. I'm no fool.
Mostly, I like my life. I love my humans. They need me too. I don't really understand the bath thing, though. Just when I get to a really interesting smelling place, alpha woman starts wrinkling her nose when I jump up on her and tells beta woman that they need to give me a bath.
I find this upsetting. WHY DO I NEED A FREAKIN' BATH?
I don't care much for water. Once, when I was a puppy and alpha woman was giving the kid a bath, I got very curious and jumped in the bathtub. Alpha woman and the kid thought it was hilarious. It wasn't. I have never been so scared in my entire life. I was sniffing a bubble and before I knew it, there I was, covered in warm water and going under! Alpha woman fished me out and dried me with a towel, but I was not amused. And they laughed!
Like I said, I hate baths. Alpha woman usually gives me my bath, but she makes the kid help. It isn't horrible but it isn't fun. They usually try to lure me into the basement where the big white sink is, like they think I am stupid or something! Like I don't see the striped pink and green towel that is my towel. Like I don't notice alpha woman reaching under the sink to fish out the white bottle with a big collie on the front of it...
I usually make a run for it. Hide behind the big black leather chair. They always find me and then alpha woman carries me down the steps and says, "Don't make me put you in the dumb waiter to go down the stairs, Socks. Stop making this hard."
AS IF. As if she would really stick me in the dumb waiter. She wouldn't do that to me. Would she?
So, the kid and alpha woman hold me down while they make warm water squirt on me. And then they suds me up and say things like, "Oh, you are so cute with your little bubble head."
I do not feel cute. I feel ridiculous. I am a SCOTTIE. We are not cute. We are handsome. I am particularly handsome for my breed. I am big and strong and NOT CUTE. So, stop saying I am CUTE.
After my bath, I show them. Alpha towels me off and sets me down and then I shake myself good and hard. And they both back up and hold up their hands and say, "SOCKS! STOP SHAKING WATER ALL OVER!"
No, I will not, ma'am. Because that is my way of telling you exactly what I think about baths.
The good thing about a bath is that when I am dry, everyone wants to hug on me a lot. That is the only good thing.
When I see other dogs, I tell them to keep their distance most of the time. Especially the little dogs. I bark and strut and dare them to take me on. The bigger dogs? Well, as I have said before, I am no fool.
I just sniff their butts. Let them know that while they may be bigger than me...well...I am not intimidated.
I am not overly friendly with humans other than mine. I like my own family and it is my job to protect them from outsiders, so I do that. Sometimes this irritates alpha woman, sometimes it doesn't. Humans are really hard to figure out.
I like my life, in general. I don't want to live anywhere else. Alpha, beta and the kid are where I am meant to be and they all think I am the best dog in the world. I AM a good dog, I don't know if I am the best dog, but I am a fine specimen and I know that. Knowing one's own worth is important. And like I said, they need me. I don't know how they got along before I came.
So, what are your pets like?
Okay, listen up, humans...
It's Socks. The dog. Yes. THAT dog. The one that alpha woman writes about as if I am some quirky sweet little canine.
I am much smarter than she thinks. I have feelings. I have opinions. Not that anyone asks me....
Basically, I have a pretty good life. With a few exceptions. My one complaint is that now everyone leaves me alone all day long. It used to be that beta woman and the kid would leave every day, but alpha woman would stay home and take me for long walks every morning. Now...no. All three humans leave in the morning and I am left all by myself ALL DAY LONG.
Until it is dark and I am ready to pee my fur. Finally, they all come home and Liv sometimes has to be told TWICE to open the back door and let me out even though I am standing right there whining and begging and scratching. I would like to see one of THEM be made to hold their bladder as long as I do. Alpha woman, in particular, would never make it. That woman pees about every hour on the hour. I know because I like to follow her around and when I walk in when she is on the toilet, she tells me to give her some privacy. Like I get any? Nope. They not only watch me go, but one of them picks up my shit after I go too. They put it in a baggie and throw it in the trash. How strange is that?
The food is pretty basic around here. Beta woman fills my bowl with dry dog food every morning and the kid washes out my water dish. Beta woman has a rule that no one is supposed to feed me "people food." And hey...why is it called that? Like humans have a monopoly on the good stuff? But, alpha woman sneaks me food frequently. We have a deal. I don't jump and beg for a bite when beta woman is around and then she shares whatever she has when beta isn't around. Beta must have something against me, I dunno. All I know is that if she catches anyone feeding me even a tiny scrap of leftover chicken, she yells, "DO NOT FEED PEOPLE FOOD TO THE DOG. HIS STOMACH IS NOT MEANT TO BE FED PEOPLE FOOD!"
Bullshit. My stomach can take anything. I once ate a napkin and lived to tell the tale. I think beta just doesn't like sharing. Alpha is good about sharing and so is the kid. When the kid has a popsicle, she gives me a lick when no one is looking.
I sleep with the kid too. She is warm and there is a window at the end of her bed that has a good view of the moon. Alpha woman snores and beta woman does not believe that dogs should be allowed to sleep on the bed. Honestly, I don't know why she seems to think it is okay to be so prejudiced. I have never done anything to deserve that treatment.
Beta woman seems to like me okay, she just isn't a petter. She smiles at me sometimes and pats me once in a while. We take a run together every morning. I am now faster than she is....heh, heh, heh. She sometimes pulls on my leash and tells me to "slow down, boy." JAYSUS CHRIST. IT is freakin' COLD out there in the mornings. If we run fast, we warm up better. I LOVE to run. I feel like UNDERDOG when I run, like I could fly if I wanted to. Doesn't anyone understand that?
Sometimes when they take me to the park, they unleash me and let me run around by myself in the wooded area. The kid always gets scared and says, "What if he runs away, Mama?" Alpha woman always says, "He won't. He loves us, baby." And then beta woman snorts and chuckles and says, "He knows who feeds him, Maria. He's no fool."
The truth is that I do love them. But, I also know who feeds me and I am no fool. I don't intend to live in the woods. I've seen the sort of animals who live there. Give me the kid's bed any day. A nice warm blanket and a bowl of food, even dry dog food, is better than chasing squirrels (who, by the way, are MEAN and TEASERS.)
Alpha woman takes a lot of naps, lately. And she lets me get on the bed with her. She doesn't care if it bugs beta woman and for some reason, beta never complains when I nap with alpha. She sometimes stands in the doorway with her arms crossed and watches alpha sleep. Sometimes the kid gets in with us. Sometimes beta does too. But, mostly it is just me and alpha. Alpha snores sometimes. I take it as long as I can and then I very politely get up and jump quietly off of the bed. How can I sleep with that racket? It's nice, though, before she falls asleep. She pets me and rubs my ears exactly the way I like and kisses me and whispers soft words into my ear. I like that.
The kid tells me everything. She pretty much likes me in her lap as much I want to be there. She sits cross legged and I sit in the bowl she makes with her legs. We discuss things. Well, she does. I mostly listen, but the kid understands me. We communicate telepathically too. I know that the kid wants to be a mathematician when she grows up. I know that she misses her father and wishes that he lived next door. I know that she thinks her mama is smart, but not as smart as she used to think she was. I know that she gets really mad at beta sometimes, thinks she is bossy and has no right to boss her around since she isn't her mother. She loves beta, but she gets annoyed with her too. Just like me. I know that constance is her best friend but that sometimes constance says that candace is her best friend and that makes the kid feel bad. I know that the kid likes to draw and that she wants an electric guitar for Christmas. She doesn't believe in santa anymore but she thinks that if she pretends that she does, she might get more presents. I told her to play it safe and keep pretending. I'm no fool.
Mostly, I like my life. I love my humans. They need me too. I don't really understand the bath thing, though. Just when I get to a really interesting smelling place, alpha woman starts wrinkling her nose when I jump up on her and tells beta woman that they need to give me a bath.
I find this upsetting. WHY DO I NEED A FREAKIN' BATH?
I don't care much for water. Once, when I was a puppy and alpha woman was giving the kid a bath, I got very curious and jumped in the bathtub. Alpha woman and the kid thought it was hilarious. It wasn't. I have never been so scared in my entire life. I was sniffing a bubble and before I knew it, there I was, covered in warm water and going under! Alpha woman fished me out and dried me with a towel, but I was not amused. And they laughed!
Like I said, I hate baths. Alpha woman usually gives me my bath, but she makes the kid help. It isn't horrible but it isn't fun. They usually try to lure me into the basement where the big white sink is, like they think I am stupid or something! Like I don't see the striped pink and green towel that is my towel. Like I don't notice alpha woman reaching under the sink to fish out the white bottle with a big collie on the front of it...
I usually make a run for it. Hide behind the big black leather chair. They always find me and then alpha woman carries me down the steps and says, "Don't make me put you in the dumb waiter to go down the stairs, Socks. Stop making this hard."
AS IF. As if she would really stick me in the dumb waiter. She wouldn't do that to me. Would she?
So, the kid and alpha woman hold me down while they make warm water squirt on me. And then they suds me up and say things like, "Oh, you are so cute with your little bubble head."
I do not feel cute. I feel ridiculous. I am a SCOTTIE. We are not cute. We are handsome. I am particularly handsome for my breed. I am big and strong and NOT CUTE. So, stop saying I am CUTE.
After my bath, I show them. Alpha towels me off and sets me down and then I shake myself good and hard. And they both back up and hold up their hands and say, "SOCKS! STOP SHAKING WATER ALL OVER!"
No, I will not, ma'am. Because that is my way of telling you exactly what I think about baths.
The good thing about a bath is that when I am dry, everyone wants to hug on me a lot. That is the only good thing.
When I see other dogs, I tell them to keep their distance most of the time. Especially the little dogs. I bark and strut and dare them to take me on. The bigger dogs? Well, as I have said before, I am no fool.
I just sniff their butts. Let them know that while they may be bigger than me...well...I am not intimidated.
I am not overly friendly with humans other than mine. I like my own family and it is my job to protect them from outsiders, so I do that. Sometimes this irritates alpha woman, sometimes it doesn't. Humans are really hard to figure out.
I like my life, in general. I don't want to live anywhere else. Alpha, beta and the kid are where I am meant to be and they all think I am the best dog in the world. I AM a good dog, I don't know if I am the best dog, but I am a fine specimen and I know that. Knowing one's own worth is important. And like I said, they need me. I don't know how they got along before I came.
So, what are your pets like?
Saturday, November 08, 2008
The crying game...
I seem to be on an emotional roller coaster this week. Today, I woke up and just knew that I didn't feel well enough to go to the Husker game. It is very cold outside and windy, I feel sort of shaky already and knew that being outside would be too hard. So..I told Bing and she agreed that she would take Liv anyway and that she could bring a friend to take my ticket. Liv was excited, called her bff, Constance and they all headed out to the game this morning.
I waved goodbye and then came back in the house and sat down and felt sorry for myself. I hate this. I hate this. I hate feeling all weak and ill. But, the truth is that the new job takes so much out of me. I had underestimated how tired I would be. Sitting around reading charts may have been boring, but it was not hard on me physically. Now, I have to be on my toes. I can sit...I mostly listen and take notes and fill out forms or plans, but I have to be....present. I have to be alert and up close and personal. I have to interact. I have to advise out loud, not just make notations on a chart. And many, many of my cases are so heartbreaking. Children with special needs who require a great deal of help and their parents or caregivers who have so few resources. I am becoming very familiar with federal mandates and with them come forms, more forms and then some more forms. All have to be filled out in triplicate and all have to be finished in a timely fashion. It is so exhausting that sometimes I feel as if I am drowning in red tape and that I spend an incredible amount of time jumping through hoops.
The children are worth it. No doubt about that. But, I feel as if I would have served them better when I was ten years younger and in good health.
I do my best. In my weekly Friday meeting with Piper and Julie (my cohorts), I was told that I was "amazing" and that I already had a client base who was requesting me. So, I am doing well in my new job.
I am just sinking a little physically. I come home at night so weary that I am almost too tired to eat. I keep telling Bing that it is just the new job jitters, and I am truly hoping that I am telling the truth. I feel stimulated. I feel as if I am making a difference.
But, I am just so tired.
Fingers crossed that I can manage to muddle through. I am sincerely missing my scrubs too. This getting dressed up shit and putting on makeup every morning is a pain in the ass....
So...I need to stop acting like a baby and WOMAN UP here. Just get the job done and carry on.
Some things give me hope.
For instance...
Last week, before it turned sickeningly cold, we had a couple of really pleasant days. I was sitting outside eating lunch on the park bench in front of our clinic with Julie and her mom (who is her secretary.) We were eating and chatting. One of our patients and his mother were sitting at a nearby bus stop, waiting for the next bus. It was a little boy of about four. A really sweet little boy who we were treating because he had stopped speaking and his mother thought it might be related to her recent divorce from his father.
So, we sat and ate. Julie's mother took a few bites of her apple and then decided she was full, so tossed it in the trash with our lunch bags. We waved to the boy and his mother and headed back inside. I happened to look out the window a few moments later and noticed the child's mother furtively going through our trash can. She pulled out the barely eaten apple and a few cookies that weren't eaten. A half of a sandwich that I had been too nauseated to eat and tossed.
And then she carried her food over to her son and carefully unwrapped the cookies and sandwich and offered it to him. She pulled a nail file out of her purse and cleanly sliced away the bite marks from the apple and gave it to him as well. He happily ate it as they waited for the bus.
I was shamed. Here, I had so callously thrown away that food and she and her son were obviously hungry. I will think twice before I waste food like that again. Here I am so well fed that I can toss food. My life must seem almost princely to her.
I choked up. I still choke up when I think of his little face and how it lighted up at the sight of a couple of oreos. Funny, how you can see a life and somehow your own life doesn't seem nearly as hard as it did a few moments prior to that.
And another thing...
The day after we elected our new president, Barrack Obama (oh, how I LOVE writing that!), I came home from work and Liv was stretched out on the living room floor doing her homework and watching the evening news with Socks, the dog stretched out beside her. A piece about Obama came on and she leaned over to hug Socks and told him, "Take a good look, Socks! That's our new president! His name is Barrack Obama and he is a very smart, very kind man. He is tall and he speaks so nicely. I think he will be a very good president because he is a good man, Socks..."
Socks actually seemed to be gazing at the man on the television screen and regarding him with sheer dog pleasure.
And then, it occurred to me that not once, not once, did Liv mention Obama's race.
I don't think she noticed.
When I had awakened her on the night of the election to tell her that he had been declared the winner, I had said something about him making history and she said, "Why? Because he is so good?" It honestly never occurred to her that it was because he was an African American. It just hadn't registered.
This pleases me. And I have seen this before with Liv. She doesn't notice race.
I do. I was raised by a Da who was very cognizant of the fact that race should not matter but to this day, I always am aware of someone's race.
Liv isn't. She just isn't.
I think that this is a good sign. Maybe one day, PLEASE, it won't matter if someone is black or white or gay or straight. Maybe, like Martin Luther King dreamed, we will be judged not by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character.
And if Barrack Obama can get elected president of the United States, maybe we are getting closer. Maybe it could really happen. All I know is that Liv doesn't see in black or white and that is a very good thing. A very good start for where we need to be.
So..I cried over that and I cried over the little boy whose mother fished our lunch out of the trash for him. I cried over missing the Husker game.
I seem to be crying over everything this week. Maybe I am just tired. Maybe it is just the sudden appearance of Autumn and the cold winds and red and gold leaves that seem to be flinging themselves off of the trees lately.
My throat keeps catching. I seem to be blinking back tears, good and bad, happy and sad lately.
How about you? Where are your emotions these days? Is there something in the water?
I waved goodbye and then came back in the house and sat down and felt sorry for myself. I hate this. I hate this. I hate feeling all weak and ill. But, the truth is that the new job takes so much out of me. I had underestimated how tired I would be. Sitting around reading charts may have been boring, but it was not hard on me physically. Now, I have to be on my toes. I can sit...I mostly listen and take notes and fill out forms or plans, but I have to be....present. I have to be alert and up close and personal. I have to interact. I have to advise out loud, not just make notations on a chart. And many, many of my cases are so heartbreaking. Children with special needs who require a great deal of help and their parents or caregivers who have so few resources. I am becoming very familiar with federal mandates and with them come forms, more forms and then some more forms. All have to be filled out in triplicate and all have to be finished in a timely fashion. It is so exhausting that sometimes I feel as if I am drowning in red tape and that I spend an incredible amount of time jumping through hoops.
The children are worth it. No doubt about that. But, I feel as if I would have served them better when I was ten years younger and in good health.
I do my best. In my weekly Friday meeting with Piper and Julie (my cohorts), I was told that I was "amazing" and that I already had a client base who was requesting me. So, I am doing well in my new job.
I am just sinking a little physically. I come home at night so weary that I am almost too tired to eat. I keep telling Bing that it is just the new job jitters, and I am truly hoping that I am telling the truth. I feel stimulated. I feel as if I am making a difference.
But, I am just so tired.
Fingers crossed that I can manage to muddle through. I am sincerely missing my scrubs too. This getting dressed up shit and putting on makeup every morning is a pain in the ass....
So...I need to stop acting like a baby and WOMAN UP here. Just get the job done and carry on.
Some things give me hope.
For instance...
Last week, before it turned sickeningly cold, we had a couple of really pleasant days. I was sitting outside eating lunch on the park bench in front of our clinic with Julie and her mom (who is her secretary.) We were eating and chatting. One of our patients and his mother were sitting at a nearby bus stop, waiting for the next bus. It was a little boy of about four. A really sweet little boy who we were treating because he had stopped speaking and his mother thought it might be related to her recent divorce from his father.
So, we sat and ate. Julie's mother took a few bites of her apple and then decided she was full, so tossed it in the trash with our lunch bags. We waved to the boy and his mother and headed back inside. I happened to look out the window a few moments later and noticed the child's mother furtively going through our trash can. She pulled out the barely eaten apple and a few cookies that weren't eaten. A half of a sandwich that I had been too nauseated to eat and tossed.
And then she carried her food over to her son and carefully unwrapped the cookies and sandwich and offered it to him. She pulled a nail file out of her purse and cleanly sliced away the bite marks from the apple and gave it to him as well. He happily ate it as they waited for the bus.
I was shamed. Here, I had so callously thrown away that food and she and her son were obviously hungry. I will think twice before I waste food like that again. Here I am so well fed that I can toss food. My life must seem almost princely to her.
I choked up. I still choke up when I think of his little face and how it lighted up at the sight of a couple of oreos. Funny, how you can see a life and somehow your own life doesn't seem nearly as hard as it did a few moments prior to that.
And another thing...
The day after we elected our new president, Barrack Obama (oh, how I LOVE writing that!), I came home from work and Liv was stretched out on the living room floor doing her homework and watching the evening news with Socks, the dog stretched out beside her. A piece about Obama came on and she leaned over to hug Socks and told him, "Take a good look, Socks! That's our new president! His name is Barrack Obama and he is a very smart, very kind man. He is tall and he speaks so nicely. I think he will be a very good president because he is a good man, Socks..."
Socks actually seemed to be gazing at the man on the television screen and regarding him with sheer dog pleasure.
And then, it occurred to me that not once, not once, did Liv mention Obama's race.
I don't think she noticed.
When I had awakened her on the night of the election to tell her that he had been declared the winner, I had said something about him making history and she said, "Why? Because he is so good?" It honestly never occurred to her that it was because he was an African American. It just hadn't registered.
This pleases me. And I have seen this before with Liv. She doesn't notice race.
I do. I was raised by a Da who was very cognizant of the fact that race should not matter but to this day, I always am aware of someone's race.
Liv isn't. She just isn't.
I think that this is a good sign. Maybe one day, PLEASE, it won't matter if someone is black or white or gay or straight. Maybe, like Martin Luther King dreamed, we will be judged not by the color of our skin, but by the content of our character.
And if Barrack Obama can get elected president of the United States, maybe we are getting closer. Maybe it could really happen. All I know is that Liv doesn't see in black or white and that is a very good thing. A very good start for where we need to be.
So..I cried over that and I cried over the little boy whose mother fished our lunch out of the trash for him. I cried over missing the Husker game.
I seem to be crying over everything this week. Maybe I am just tired. Maybe it is just the sudden appearance of Autumn and the cold winds and red and gold leaves that seem to be flinging themselves off of the trees lately.
My throat keeps catching. I seem to be blinking back tears, good and bad, happy and sad lately.
How about you? Where are your emotions these days? Is there something in the water?
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Meme # 9854
This one was stolen in broad daylight from LL Cool Joe.
I
I am left handed. And the women and men whom I have loved the most in my life have been left handed too. Bing is ambidextrous, although I believe that she was a leftie like me until the nuns in her elementary got a hold of her and forced her to write right handed. In my family, my Da and I were the only lefties. Liv's father is right handed, but Liv is left handed, although she does eat with her right hand.
I think that Autumn is the most beautiful month. But, I dunno. When it is March and I am so, so sick of the white, white snow, those first balmy Spring breezes make me want to weep. But, right now...well...you should see the view from my computer window. The trees are all golden and pink, not deep red or orange yet. It is supposed to be nearly 80 degrees today, a last kiss from our Indian Summer and watching my daughter and her dog, Socks, play in the leaves or see him chasing her legs as she swirls on her tire swing...well...let's just say that I am moved to salty tears.
I know that I need to leave for work and Liv needs me to braid her hair...so back after the work day is over. Tonight, I might skip blogging, though, and watch CNN to see what Anderson thinks about the election tomorrow. I am sort of glad to have it over, really sick of all the ads and the constant stream of unwanted messages on my answering machine when we come home from work and school, but LISTEN UP, FOLKS...we are living in a time that will go down in history. Doesn't it just give you chills?
I want to feel well again. I am so very tired of feeling sick. Feeling weak. Feeling shaky. Pretending that I am feeling just fine when I am feeling like shit but I don't want to deal with Bing worrying or worse...Liv worrying.
I have a good life. I know this. I am not so obtuse that I don't realize what I have. I have a good job, a loving spouse, an exceptional daughter and a family and friends who love me even if they don't always like me. I am grateful.
I miss my younger body. I hate to be one of those older women who go on and on about how they miss their boobs. But, damn...I do miss those perky breasts. I miss that unlined, milkmaid skin. I miss my speed and agility. I am not wincing around like an old woman yet, but I don't take steps two at a time anymore. I used to do that.
I fear losing Liv. It is probably my basest, worst fear. I read those newspaper articles about missing children and they honestly make my stomach go sick. I know with true certainty that if something happened to Liv, I would just...be a total basket case. Just the thought of someone hurting her or snatching her...well...it makes me helpless with pain. The only thing in my life that could bring me to my knees in a split second would be to see Liv hurt or endangered. I am vulnerable in a way that I never thought possible simply because she exists and she is mine.
I hear poorly. I have Meniere's Syndrome, have had it since I was in my middle thirties and because of it, I have lost over half of my hearing in my left ear. In my right ear, I still retain 80% of it. But, I am the one saying, "Pardon me?"
I smell the leftover fish that Bing made for dinner last night. I do not like fish much, but since Liv and Bing love it, I eat it. Bing and I compromise. She is only allowed to make fish once a week and she makes beef once a week for me, or I make it myself when it is my turn to cook, but if the truth be told, she can cook circles around me.
I crave malted milk balls. We went and saw this movie on Sunday. Being a type 1 diabetic, I only allow myself to eat candy when we go to a movie and then, I only get five malted milk balls. I suck them down slowly and completely and I bet I enjoy them twice as much as people who can eat a whole box. And I liked the movie, by the way. But Bing is the one who surprised the hell out of me. Liv and I had to talk her into going to the movie, she hates what she calls chick flicks. So, halfway through the film, I hear this sniffling sound and look next to me and there is Bing...in tears. I had to smile. Liv loved the film. I liked it. I had read the book and I think it is really hard to like a film when you loved the book.
I seek peace. I feel as if I could find peace in my heart if I really tried, but I just let so much....junk get in the way. I look around me and see such idiotic people and feel disgruntled and pissed off. At my first day of work yesterday, my first case was a child in foster care who needed to be evaluated for autism. I read this child's chart and wanted to cry. Why do people who have no business having children keep having them? I think back to how much I wanted Liv, how I felt like she was meant to be in every fiber of my being, how I welcomed her. And then I see this little boy who deserved to have someone feel that way too. Except, he didn't get that.
I wonder what really happens when we die.
I regret that I waited until I was in my late 40's before I realized that the women I loved was standing right next to me all along.
I love my child. She is the apple of my eye, the chocolate syrup on my sundae, the reason I love waking up every morning. Well, you get the picture.
I ache all over tonight. One of the down sides to working full time is that you sort of have to work full time.
I was not in the best of moods today. I woke up tired. Don't you hate that? I mean, good hell...you sleep for a full eight hours and it is only fair to want to wake up and feel all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not me. I could have slept another few hours because I am just that lazy.
I am not good at the romance thing. I never said I was, though. So, you have to give me credit. I never promised Bing a rose garden. I believe I said that there were lots and lots of dandelions and she signed on anyway. For that, I am eternally grateful.
I cry rarely. Actually, I suppose I cry about as much as the next person, but I seldom cry in front of people. I am a crybaby when I am alone in my bathtub. I get very uncomfortable when I cry in front of people. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
I believe in karma. I think that if you hurt someone, you pay eventually. At least I hope so. It helps me to feel as if those who have wronged me will have the tables turned on them sooner or later. Bing says that I have Vulcan blood in me (Star Trek reference alert) but I think it must really be Klingon blood because I believe that revenge is best served cold.
I dance just like Elaine Benes.
I sing like I dance.
I read whenever I get the chance. Unfortunately, it isn't nearly enough. I try to read before bed and I always end up falling asleep before I get to the second page I am trying to read. I don't get people who don't enjoy reading. Books are like my friends. I have been known to carry a book around in my purse after I finish reading it sometimes because I can't stand to put it back on the shelf. I want it NEXT to me. I have a confession. I have hugged books. Once, when I was at a party, I snuck into her library and found a first edition of Leaves of Grass and I took it down from the shelf and embraced it. Thank god, no one walked in to find me there.
I don't always do the right thing. Sometimes, I am lazy or too tired or just plain lack courage. I try to do the right thing. I don't always hit the mark. I look back on a few parts of my life and wish that I had been a braver, better person. I always wanted to be like Atticus Finch. Sometimes, however, I am more like Jay Gatsby.
I fight with passion. I am a great debater. I also usually win arguments. Just ask Bing. She told me once that she pities the fool who takes on me because I never give in. I don't think that is absolutely true. I have lost plenty of arguments and it was mostly because I gave in. But, I dig my heels in and can be pretty stubborn. It does help that I am usually right....
I write frequently. I have a journal, I blog. For my sister's birthdays each year, I write them a love letter tying in all the events of the past year. One of my sisters has kept every letter I ever wrote to her. Bing surprised me once by showing me an entire box filled with every note I ever wrote to her, every card I sent her, every letter. And I read them one rainy day and admit that I was secretly pretty impressed with my writing.
I win through patience, sheer steadfastness and by arming myself well. I seldom go into an argument unless I am prepared to back up my views. If I am uneducated about a subject, I don't bother debating it. I dislike looking stupid. If I am arguing about the bible, for example, I make sure I know what references to quote and if my opponent slips up, I work hard to catch their error. I sometimes care more about winning than preserving feelings and that is one of my worst traits.
I lose with grace. I am not a poor sport or a sore loser. If you can beat me in an argument, a game, whatever, I try to respect that. One thing that I have always loved about going to Husker games is that, at the end of the game, the crowd cheers for the opponent, whether they beat us or not.
I never get to bed on time. I always end up doing some chore and then I get to bed late. Lately, I have been aspiring to get into bed before ten and the only way I manage it is if Bing nags me.
I always keep my manners on. My parents were sticklers for always showing good manners and, in general, I manage to do very well. I am raising Liv the same way. I think that good manners show good breeding.
I confuse a lot of people. I am hard to understand, am told that I am difficult to get to know, am standoffish. But, the truth is that I really am soft hearted on the inside, I simply try not to show it. I like to be thought of as pragmatic rather than romantic.
I listen to my head rather than my heart on most things. I don't know why, but I suspect that it has saved me from pretty painful times...but by the same token, by not following my heart, I have probably missed out on some truly good times as well.
I can usually figure out how to solve my problems. I have a knack for getting to the root of a matter and then problem solving my way out.
I am scared of being a bag lady. Isn't that crazy? I have worked hard to make sure that I use my money wisely. But, it is a recurring fear: that I will end up some shivering old woman dragging along a shopping cart full of useless things.
I need Bing and Liv. Oh. And Socks. They are pretty much required for my happiness.
I am happy when I get to sleep in. I love waking up at five a.m. and realizing that it isn't a week day and that I can sleep for many hours more....
Okay, everyone. I started that MEME on Sunday night and finished it tonight, Tuesday. Election night.
And the early returns are in and it is looking pretty good. I have promised to wake Liv up when I know for sure who our new president is. It could be a long night.
We are living in such interesting times, yes?
I
I am left handed. And the women and men whom I have loved the most in my life have been left handed too. Bing is ambidextrous, although I believe that she was a leftie like me until the nuns in her elementary got a hold of her and forced her to write right handed. In my family, my Da and I were the only lefties. Liv's father is right handed, but Liv is left handed, although she does eat with her right hand.
I think that Autumn is the most beautiful month. But, I dunno. When it is March and I am so, so sick of the white, white snow, those first balmy Spring breezes make me want to weep. But, right now...well...you should see the view from my computer window. The trees are all golden and pink, not deep red or orange yet. It is supposed to be nearly 80 degrees today, a last kiss from our Indian Summer and watching my daughter and her dog, Socks, play in the leaves or see him chasing her legs as she swirls on her tire swing...well...let's just say that I am moved to salty tears.
I know that I need to leave for work and Liv needs me to braid her hair...so back after the work day is over. Tonight, I might skip blogging, though, and watch CNN to see what Anderson thinks about the election tomorrow. I am sort of glad to have it over, really sick of all the ads and the constant stream of unwanted messages on my answering machine when we come home from work and school, but LISTEN UP, FOLKS...we are living in a time that will go down in history. Doesn't it just give you chills?
I want to feel well again. I am so very tired of feeling sick. Feeling weak. Feeling shaky. Pretending that I am feeling just fine when I am feeling like shit but I don't want to deal with Bing worrying or worse...Liv worrying.
I have a good life. I know this. I am not so obtuse that I don't realize what I have. I have a good job, a loving spouse, an exceptional daughter and a family and friends who love me even if they don't always like me. I am grateful.
I miss my younger body. I hate to be one of those older women who go on and on about how they miss their boobs. But, damn...I do miss those perky breasts. I miss that unlined, milkmaid skin. I miss my speed and agility. I am not wincing around like an old woman yet, but I don't take steps two at a time anymore. I used to do that.
I fear losing Liv. It is probably my basest, worst fear. I read those newspaper articles about missing children and they honestly make my stomach go sick. I know with true certainty that if something happened to Liv, I would just...be a total basket case. Just the thought of someone hurting her or snatching her...well...it makes me helpless with pain. The only thing in my life that could bring me to my knees in a split second would be to see Liv hurt or endangered. I am vulnerable in a way that I never thought possible simply because she exists and she is mine.
I hear poorly. I have Meniere's Syndrome, have had it since I was in my middle thirties and because of it, I have lost over half of my hearing in my left ear. In my right ear, I still retain 80% of it. But, I am the one saying, "Pardon me?"
I smell the leftover fish that Bing made for dinner last night. I do not like fish much, but since Liv and Bing love it, I eat it. Bing and I compromise. She is only allowed to make fish once a week and she makes beef once a week for me, or I make it myself when it is my turn to cook, but if the truth be told, she can cook circles around me.
I crave malted milk balls. We went and saw this movie on Sunday. Being a type 1 diabetic, I only allow myself to eat candy when we go to a movie and then, I only get five malted milk balls. I suck them down slowly and completely and I bet I enjoy them twice as much as people who can eat a whole box. And I liked the movie, by the way. But Bing is the one who surprised the hell out of me. Liv and I had to talk her into going to the movie, she hates what she calls chick flicks. So, halfway through the film, I hear this sniffling sound and look next to me and there is Bing...in tears. I had to smile. Liv loved the film. I liked it. I had read the book and I think it is really hard to like a film when you loved the book.
I seek peace. I feel as if I could find peace in my heart if I really tried, but I just let so much....junk get in the way. I look around me and see such idiotic people and feel disgruntled and pissed off. At my first day of work yesterday, my first case was a child in foster care who needed to be evaluated for autism. I read this child's chart and wanted to cry. Why do people who have no business having children keep having them? I think back to how much I wanted Liv, how I felt like she was meant to be in every fiber of my being, how I welcomed her. And then I see this little boy who deserved to have someone feel that way too. Except, he didn't get that.
I wonder what really happens when we die.
I regret that I waited until I was in my late 40's before I realized that the women I loved was standing right next to me all along.
I love my child. She is the apple of my eye, the chocolate syrup on my sundae, the reason I love waking up every morning. Well, you get the picture.
I ache all over tonight. One of the down sides to working full time is that you sort of have to work full time.
I was not in the best of moods today. I woke up tired. Don't you hate that? I mean, good hell...you sleep for a full eight hours and it is only fair to want to wake up and feel all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not me. I could have slept another few hours because I am just that lazy.
I am not good at the romance thing. I never said I was, though. So, you have to give me credit. I never promised Bing a rose garden. I believe I said that there were lots and lots of dandelions and she signed on anyway. For that, I am eternally grateful.
I cry rarely. Actually, I suppose I cry about as much as the next person, but I seldom cry in front of people. I am a crybaby when I am alone in my bathtub. I get very uncomfortable when I cry in front of people. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.
I believe in karma. I think that if you hurt someone, you pay eventually. At least I hope so. It helps me to feel as if those who have wronged me will have the tables turned on them sooner or later. Bing says that I have Vulcan blood in me (Star Trek reference alert) but I think it must really be Klingon blood because I believe that revenge is best served cold.
I dance just like Elaine Benes.
I sing like I dance.
I read whenever I get the chance. Unfortunately, it isn't nearly enough. I try to read before bed and I always end up falling asleep before I get to the second page I am trying to read. I don't get people who don't enjoy reading. Books are like my friends. I have been known to carry a book around in my purse after I finish reading it sometimes because I can't stand to put it back on the shelf. I want it NEXT to me. I have a confession. I have hugged books. Once, when I was at a party, I snuck into her library and found a first edition of Leaves of Grass and I took it down from the shelf and embraced it. Thank god, no one walked in to find me there.
I don't always do the right thing. Sometimes, I am lazy or too tired or just plain lack courage. I try to do the right thing. I don't always hit the mark. I look back on a few parts of my life and wish that I had been a braver, better person. I always wanted to be like Atticus Finch. Sometimes, however, I am more like Jay Gatsby.
I fight with passion. I am a great debater. I also usually win arguments. Just ask Bing. She told me once that she pities the fool who takes on me because I never give in. I don't think that is absolutely true. I have lost plenty of arguments and it was mostly because I gave in. But, I dig my heels in and can be pretty stubborn. It does help that I am usually right....
I write frequently. I have a journal, I blog. For my sister's birthdays each year, I write them a love letter tying in all the events of the past year. One of my sisters has kept every letter I ever wrote to her. Bing surprised me once by showing me an entire box filled with every note I ever wrote to her, every card I sent her, every letter. And I read them one rainy day and admit that I was secretly pretty impressed with my writing.
I win through patience, sheer steadfastness and by arming myself well. I seldom go into an argument unless I am prepared to back up my views. If I am uneducated about a subject, I don't bother debating it. I dislike looking stupid. If I am arguing about the bible, for example, I make sure I know what references to quote and if my opponent slips up, I work hard to catch their error. I sometimes care more about winning than preserving feelings and that is one of my worst traits.
I lose with grace. I am not a poor sport or a sore loser. If you can beat me in an argument, a game, whatever, I try to respect that. One thing that I have always loved about going to Husker games is that, at the end of the game, the crowd cheers for the opponent, whether they beat us or not.
I never get to bed on time. I always end up doing some chore and then I get to bed late. Lately, I have been aspiring to get into bed before ten and the only way I manage it is if Bing nags me.
I always keep my manners on. My parents were sticklers for always showing good manners and, in general, I manage to do very well. I am raising Liv the same way. I think that good manners show good breeding.
I confuse a lot of people. I am hard to understand, am told that I am difficult to get to know, am standoffish. But, the truth is that I really am soft hearted on the inside, I simply try not to show it. I like to be thought of as pragmatic rather than romantic.
I listen to my head rather than my heart on most things. I don't know why, but I suspect that it has saved me from pretty painful times...but by the same token, by not following my heart, I have probably missed out on some truly good times as well.
I can usually figure out how to solve my problems. I have a knack for getting to the root of a matter and then problem solving my way out.
I am scared of being a bag lady. Isn't that crazy? I have worked hard to make sure that I use my money wisely. But, it is a recurring fear: that I will end up some shivering old woman dragging along a shopping cart full of useless things.
I need Bing and Liv. Oh. And Socks. They are pretty much required for my happiness.
I am happy when I get to sleep in. I love waking up at five a.m. and realizing that it isn't a week day and that I can sleep for many hours more....
Okay, everyone. I started that MEME on Sunday night and finished it tonight, Tuesday. Election night.
And the early returns are in and it is looking pretty good. I have promised to wake Liv up when I know for sure who our new president is. It could be a long night.
We are living in such interesting times, yes?
Saturday, November 01, 2008
A Chanel suit just hits the spot
Well, yesterday was my first day of work. It helped that I wore one of my Chanel suits, the accordian one that is my personal favorite. I should probably just go and admit right here and now that I own ten Chanel suits. And I love and adore each and every one of them. Yes, they are almost ridiculously expensive. Yes, Bing thinks I am a total nut case for spending that much money on suits. (Even though I bought them all over ten years ago when we weren't together.) She buys her clothes at Goodwill or Target. Brags that she has never spent more than thirty dollars on clothes at one time. My suits cost me a pretty penny, but I love the way they feel on my body and I will simply not feel guilty for having them. When I wear one of my suits, I feel pretty, oh so pretty. And they wear well. As I've said, I own ten of them and they are all still in prime condition.
So, I wore my accordian suit and a nice old pair of Ferragamos and I had a good day. I didn't do any work, really, just got my office in order, hung up my Ruth Palmer print called When Paths Cross, that I recently purchased and hired a secretary named Elly.
Elly is 70. She was one of three prospects sent to me by the employment agency. The others were Jay, a very fey, very funny young black man whom I thought about hiring, but decided that he seemed to work too hard to try to make me laugh, and Vera, an asian woman about my age who was actually shorter than me, which is hard to find these days. Vera was probably the most well trained, but she had a strident voice that I knew would grate on my nerves after a while. Elly is an Estelle Getty lookalike, but with an almost shy voice and gentle blue eyes. Her husband recently died of cancer and she wanted to get back to work, said that she had been retired for five years from an insurance company and was sick of sitting home talking to her cat.
So, I hired her. Funny, just a few years ago, I would have been unimpressed with anyone who talked to their pet, but since Socks became a part of our family...well...I have no wiggle room since I converse with him daily and ...ok..even consult him on family matters.
I had a meeting with the two other women whom I will be working with, Piper and Julie. We are all roughly the same age, but both Piper and Julie are divorced and childless. And they liked my suit...(Oh. My. God. Is that a Chanel accordian suit? I LOVE IT. ) But since Julie is nearly five feet eight and Piper is um...sort of rotund...I don't have to worry about either of them wanting to borrow it.
Bing picked up Liv after school and brought her to my office to check it all out. Liv was thrilled that in addition to the Palmer, I had framed two of her paintings (one of a big red crab and the other one a picture of Socks) and hung them prominently. Plus, I had a photo of her in her Halloween costume on my desk. She went as a hippie and raided my closet for a Stevie Nicks skirt and peasant blouse. Yes, I am so old now that I am actually a Halloween character....
I also had a photo of Bing, Liv and me on my desk which I love. Liv is sitting in her tire swing, while Bing and I flank her and we are all laughing at something, can't remember what now, but we look all happy and summery and full of promise. It is a good photo of all three of us. Sunkissed, sassy and sweet. I have a sleeveless sun dress on and my arms do not look fat. That alone is a godsend.
So, it was a nice ease into the workplace. Monday, I will start the real work. Which I am looking forward to. I'm still a little shaky from being ill, but I think the work will energize me. Plus, a microwave, fridge and a new coffee maker were all delivered when I was there, so I look forward to bringing to my Dunkin Donuts dark roast coffee...(if you want a decent, affordable cup of joe, get that...it is tasty)
Bing surprised me by bringing in a new chair to go with my swedish desk that has been in storage for years and finally gets to see the light of day again and got a thorough dusting. The chair has a built in back massager which will come in handy. Is she like the most thoughtful partner on the planet or what?
So...a great day, all in all.
And then...I had that nightmare again last night. I have been having a recurring nightmare about being trapped in a box underground for months now. It always starts the same. I am in some sort of large coffinish box and I realize, with horror that I can't get out. I claw and scream and finally realize that whenever I cry out, the box starts to slowly get smaller and smaller around me. So, I try not to scream, find a microphone and start quietly whispering into it, begging for whomever is caging me to LET ME GO.
I awaken each and every time gasping for breath and shivering, in a cold sweat.
I'm not an idiot..I mean, I have spent LOTS of time analyzing dreams over the years and this one is simple to interpret. But, trying to calm myself down is hard. I usually end up going into Liv's room and crawling in bed with her for a while until her soft, steady breathing and the almondy smell of her hair calms me down. Only then can I tiptoe back to our bed to try to go to sleep again.
It helped to sleep in today. Until nearly ten. Whoopee.
And then we went out to lunch here. We all love this place. Bing gets the menudo, Liv gets the shrimp and octopus and me? Well, I am the skittish one. I just get a cheese enchilada and rice water. The owner seems to really like Liv because whenever she is with us, we get free desert. The waitress just comes sweeping to our table and sets a plate of fried ice cream or flan or something equally yummy in front of our Livvie and she sweetly shares. Today it was a sort of pastry that I had never seen before, looked sort of like monkey bread with a light glaze on it. And in the middle of the plate was a scoop of vanilla ice cream lightly laced with chocolate syrup.
As we ate, Liv produced her Christmas list.
She had written:
If we can afford it, I would like:
1 electric guitar (I know Bing has three, but I want my very own)
1 microscope (with slides included please, and maybe a guide book)
1 set of meckanical pencils to do my math problems with
pokemon cards
Bing and I read the list and I could see right away that Liv would be getting the guitar. Bing HATES it when she borrows hers, she is so funny about anyone touching her instruments. And, of course, it will be an excuse for Bing to go shopping in a music store, her favorite place to browse.
The other stuff? We'll see. We usually only get one big gift and then two small ones, so the microscope may have to wait.
But, maybe I will pass that on to Tinton to get for her. He would be good at picking out a microscope.
We all talked about what we wanted for Christmas and you know...I could not think of much. I have so much already.
Maybe a nice chanel sweater....What do you want for Christmas?
And now it is time for me to go watch the Nebraska/Oklahoma game. I have on my Husker sweatshirt but I don't know if it will be enough. We are the underdogs...
Fingers crossed.
And hey...isn't it GREAT that the election will finally be over on Tuesday and we will have our new Democrat in the office?
Always think positive...always aim high.
So...GO HUSKERS!
So, I wore my accordian suit and a nice old pair of Ferragamos and I had a good day. I didn't do any work, really, just got my office in order, hung up my Ruth Palmer print called When Paths Cross, that I recently purchased and hired a secretary named Elly.
Elly is 70. She was one of three prospects sent to me by the employment agency. The others were Jay, a very fey, very funny young black man whom I thought about hiring, but decided that he seemed to work too hard to try to make me laugh, and Vera, an asian woman about my age who was actually shorter than me, which is hard to find these days. Vera was probably the most well trained, but she had a strident voice that I knew would grate on my nerves after a while. Elly is an Estelle Getty lookalike, but with an almost shy voice and gentle blue eyes. Her husband recently died of cancer and she wanted to get back to work, said that she had been retired for five years from an insurance company and was sick of sitting home talking to her cat.
So, I hired her. Funny, just a few years ago, I would have been unimpressed with anyone who talked to their pet, but since Socks became a part of our family...well...I have no wiggle room since I converse with him daily and ...ok..even consult him on family matters.
I had a meeting with the two other women whom I will be working with, Piper and Julie. We are all roughly the same age, but both Piper and Julie are divorced and childless. And they liked my suit...(Oh. My. God. Is that a Chanel accordian suit? I LOVE IT. ) But since Julie is nearly five feet eight and Piper is um...sort of rotund...I don't have to worry about either of them wanting to borrow it.
Bing picked up Liv after school and brought her to my office to check it all out. Liv was thrilled that in addition to the Palmer, I had framed two of her paintings (one of a big red crab and the other one a picture of Socks) and hung them prominently. Plus, I had a photo of her in her Halloween costume on my desk. She went as a hippie and raided my closet for a Stevie Nicks skirt and peasant blouse. Yes, I am so old now that I am actually a Halloween character....
I also had a photo of Bing, Liv and me on my desk which I love. Liv is sitting in her tire swing, while Bing and I flank her and we are all laughing at something, can't remember what now, but we look all happy and summery and full of promise. It is a good photo of all three of us. Sunkissed, sassy and sweet. I have a sleeveless sun dress on and my arms do not look fat. That alone is a godsend.
So, it was a nice ease into the workplace. Monday, I will start the real work. Which I am looking forward to. I'm still a little shaky from being ill, but I think the work will energize me. Plus, a microwave, fridge and a new coffee maker were all delivered when I was there, so I look forward to bringing to my Dunkin Donuts dark roast coffee...(if you want a decent, affordable cup of joe, get that...it is tasty)
Bing surprised me by bringing in a new chair to go with my swedish desk that has been in storage for years and finally gets to see the light of day again and got a thorough dusting. The chair has a built in back massager which will come in handy. Is she like the most thoughtful partner on the planet or what?
So...a great day, all in all.
And then...I had that nightmare again last night. I have been having a recurring nightmare about being trapped in a box underground for months now. It always starts the same. I am in some sort of large coffinish box and I realize, with horror that I can't get out. I claw and scream and finally realize that whenever I cry out, the box starts to slowly get smaller and smaller around me. So, I try not to scream, find a microphone and start quietly whispering into it, begging for whomever is caging me to LET ME GO.
I awaken each and every time gasping for breath and shivering, in a cold sweat.
I'm not an idiot..I mean, I have spent LOTS of time analyzing dreams over the years and this one is simple to interpret. But, trying to calm myself down is hard. I usually end up going into Liv's room and crawling in bed with her for a while until her soft, steady breathing and the almondy smell of her hair calms me down. Only then can I tiptoe back to our bed to try to go to sleep again.
It helped to sleep in today. Until nearly ten. Whoopee.
And then we went out to lunch here. We all love this place. Bing gets the menudo, Liv gets the shrimp and octopus and me? Well, I am the skittish one. I just get a cheese enchilada and rice water. The owner seems to really like Liv because whenever she is with us, we get free desert. The waitress just comes sweeping to our table and sets a plate of fried ice cream or flan or something equally yummy in front of our Livvie and she sweetly shares. Today it was a sort of pastry that I had never seen before, looked sort of like monkey bread with a light glaze on it. And in the middle of the plate was a scoop of vanilla ice cream lightly laced with chocolate syrup.
As we ate, Liv produced her Christmas list.
She had written:
If we can afford it, I would like:
1 electric guitar (I know Bing has three, but I want my very own)
1 microscope (with slides included please, and maybe a guide book)
1 set of meckanical pencils to do my math problems with
pokemon cards
Bing and I read the list and I could see right away that Liv would be getting the guitar. Bing HATES it when she borrows hers, she is so funny about anyone touching her instruments. And, of course, it will be an excuse for Bing to go shopping in a music store, her favorite place to browse.
The other stuff? We'll see. We usually only get one big gift and then two small ones, so the microscope may have to wait.
But, maybe I will pass that on to Tinton to get for her. He would be good at picking out a microscope.
We all talked about what we wanted for Christmas and you know...I could not think of much. I have so much already.
Maybe a nice chanel sweater....What do you want for Christmas?
And now it is time for me to go watch the Nebraska/Oklahoma game. I have on my Husker sweatshirt but I don't know if it will be enough. We are the underdogs...
Fingers crossed.
And hey...isn't it GREAT that the election will finally be over on Tuesday and we will have our new Democrat in the office?
Always think positive...always aim high.
So...GO HUSKERS!
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