Saturday, October 15, 2011
October 15th ~ Whew!!
What a relief! Touchy subject matter handled. Loads less traumatic than expected. Still slightly unnerved by lead up to discussing of matter. Emotional crisis diverted. Fishing Season. Grrrrrrrr
Friday, October 14, 2011
October 14th ~ Twenty-one years ago today
Things weren't so bad back then. Sure, I was still feeling ample amount of devastation at the honest truth that the relationship I had given my all to - almost five years of my young adult life - would never amount to anything, I still was getting on pretty well. I had good friends who loved me and family close by. I had a job I loved going to each day; co-workers whose company I enjoyed; a terrific boss. I was going to be okay. But, I guess, some of my friends and family wanted to see me happier. They wanted me to get over "that guy."
I really was finally okay about that guy. I didn't need a guy. At that point, I had resigned myself to living a spinster life. My plan was to work at the dental office, live with Mom, save my money, and hopefully, eventually move to Washington state - San Juan Islands, specifically. I had this notion that I would move there and work in a bed and breakfast in hopes that someday I could own and run one myself. Where and how I came up with this grand idea, I could not say. But, like I said, everyone at work wanted me happy... now.
So, I'm working at the dental office and I hear that a patient had taken notice and asked about me. Karen, the office hygienist said he wanted to ask me out. No thanks. Word spread around the office - a very small office - that someone wanted to ask me out and everyone got on the bandwagon that I should do it. No thanks. On his end, this patient, Rick, had been told by one of his co-workers that his wife (who works at the dental office) mentioned that I had noticed him when he had gone in for and exam and wanted to meet him. Meddlesome small town folks. Ha. No thanks.
It took some doing on the part of these well meaning folks - Jim, Karen, Gregg, Emily, even my cousin Sylvia had her say in the matter; they finally broke me down, "Okay, give him my number." Apparently, by the time he called me half his family had come by the office "for exams" to check me out. Damn small town folks.
So he calls and I say sure when he asks if I'd like to see a movie sometime. His parents have this big wedding anniversary celebration on Saturday, "Could we get together on Sunday?" That's fine, let's meet at the theater and decide there what to see. He wanted to pick me up, but that's not how I rolled. I was fine catching the SunBus to the Palm Desert Mall. So, it was agreed, on Sunday, October 14th, I'd meet this Rick guy in front of the pet shop. "I have brown hair and a red mustache," he said. I told him I was short, had shoulder length brown hair and wore glasses. (I thought he had seen me. He thought I had already seen him.) Crazy small town folks.
So on Sunday, October 14, 1990, I'm getting ready for this blind date. I'm just taking a last look-see making sure my hair is fabulous as always, when what happens, I drop my favorite handheld mirror. I didn't cuss back then, so I'm sure I said, "RATS!" Seven years bad luck!? Oh well, I already had zero expectation that I'd be seeing this guy a second time, so away I went to catch the bus. I made sure I arrived at the mall with enough time to do some shopping before meeting up with mister brown hair and red mustache. I remember flirting with the guy in J.C. Penney shoe department. I bought some white leather classic Keds, asked the guy to hold them there, I'd be back to pick them up after a movie.
Yup, that was twenty-one years ago. We saw Mr. Destiny - newly released Oct 12th, staring Jim Belushi. I said yes to refreshments afterward. He had a Diet Coke and I ordered a root beer float at the Swendsen's next door to the theater. He gave me his number. I tossed it. He seemed like a nice enough guy - met all the criteria: non-smoker, no drugs, no excessive drinking, church going. I just wasn't feeling it. Blind date over, done, I went to retrieve my tennis shoes and headed home. Surely, my small town friends from work would be disappointed... "I don't think I'll see him again. Nice try guys."
I really was finally okay about that guy. I didn't need a guy. At that point, I had resigned myself to living a spinster life. My plan was to work at the dental office, live with Mom, save my money, and hopefully, eventually move to Washington state - San Juan Islands, specifically. I had this notion that I would move there and work in a bed and breakfast in hopes that someday I could own and run one myself. Where and how I came up with this grand idea, I could not say. But, like I said, everyone at work wanted me happy... now.
So, I'm working at the dental office and I hear that a patient had taken notice and asked about me. Karen, the office hygienist said he wanted to ask me out. No thanks. Word spread around the office - a very small office - that someone wanted to ask me out and everyone got on the bandwagon that I should do it. No thanks. On his end, this patient, Rick, had been told by one of his co-workers that his wife (who works at the dental office) mentioned that I had noticed him when he had gone in for and exam and wanted to meet him. Meddlesome small town folks. Ha. No thanks.
It took some doing on the part of these well meaning folks - Jim, Karen, Gregg, Emily, even my cousin Sylvia had her say in the matter; they finally broke me down, "Okay, give him my number." Apparently, by the time he called me half his family had come by the office "for exams" to check me out. Damn small town folks.
So he calls and I say sure when he asks if I'd like to see a movie sometime. His parents have this big wedding anniversary celebration on Saturday, "Could we get together on Sunday?" That's fine, let's meet at the theater and decide there what to see. He wanted to pick me up, but that's not how I rolled. I was fine catching the SunBus to the Palm Desert Mall. So, it was agreed, on Sunday, October 14th, I'd meet this Rick guy in front of the pet shop. "I have brown hair and a red mustache," he said. I told him I was short, had shoulder length brown hair and wore glasses. (I thought he had seen me. He thought I had already seen him.) Crazy small town folks.
So on Sunday, October 14, 1990, I'm getting ready for this blind date. I'm just taking a last look-see making sure my hair is fabulous as always, when what happens, I drop my favorite handheld mirror. I didn't cuss back then, so I'm sure I said, "RATS!" Seven years bad luck!? Oh well, I already had zero expectation that I'd be seeing this guy a second time, so away I went to catch the bus. I made sure I arrived at the mall with enough time to do some shopping before meeting up with mister brown hair and red mustache. I remember flirting with the guy in J.C. Penney shoe department. I bought some white leather classic Keds, asked the guy to hold them there, I'd be back to pick them up after a movie.
*****
Yup, that was twenty-one years ago. We saw Mr. Destiny - newly released Oct 12th, staring Jim Belushi. I said yes to refreshments afterward. He had a Diet Coke and I ordered a root beer float at the Swendsen's next door to the theater. He gave me his number. I tossed it. He seemed like a nice enough guy - met all the criteria: non-smoker, no drugs, no excessive drinking, church going. I just wasn't feeling it. Blind date over, done, I went to retrieve my tennis shoes and headed home. Surely, my small town friends from work would be disappointed... "I don't think I'll see him again. Nice try guys."
*****
Gotta go, Rick and R.J. are starting up the DVR recordings of a show staring Tim Allen... you know, from Home Improvement. Just Googled it, that show premiered in 1991, the same year Rick and I got married!
Monday, October 10, 2011
October 10th ~ Monday Moratorium II
A few months back I issued a moratorium when we no longer could afford to keep health insurance:
Yesterday I ordered another. See, this is a house full of lazies and I'm tired of stewing about how much it sucks that I have to be the one dictating shit to everyone or have to walk around hinting that I've asked a task be done only for my request to be ignored... over and over again.
So any time our dogs, Shadow and Sombra, needed attention, my mantra on Sunday became this: If you don't do anything to help around the house, help with the dogs. I shouted this out every time the dogs needed to be fed, go out, or whined.
I issued my new moratorium for all to hear:
It was a Sunday at the end of a three day weekend for the students in the house ("middle girl" and "youngest girl"), which coincided with first three days of six days in a row of work for "the boy" (increase in hours at B&N job will be a godsend). And, we also felt the first real chill in the air, as well as, first snowfall of the season... on Saturday morning... when we were supposed to do tax guy and bankruptcy attorney fund raising yard sale. By Sunday morning, I was far from having a nice weekend. What's that?
I don't know how "Dad" spends his day, but I can tell you that he comes out of his room to eat several times each day, occasionally beckons "the boy" to help mow the lawn - maybe once a month,. Hmmm... what else? He watches t.v.: Mostly Maury type stuff, a lot of sports, and God knows what else. Oh, maybe once a month he brings his bedding down for washing. Eleven months since he was laid off, I'm not even sure he's even still looking for work. (Just another thing for me to harbor resentment and anger over.) So, I'm most pissed at him on a weekend like this. "Get up!" "Do something!" "What the hell, open your eyes!" is what I shout in my head anytime he's in the same room. I was worried "Dad" was losing his hearing... now, I just blame selective blind-, deaf- and dumbness.
On Saturday, "youngest girl" finally brought me down bedding to be washed. I hate going in her room. It's a major disaster. But, I don't get on her about it too much because she's a good student and assumes her academic responsibilities without a peep from me or "dad." Plus, she's the artistic one in the family, and sometimes out of those messes come lovely creative works. So if the price of coming home after school and doing hours of home work every day is a messy room, so be it. But it does get pretty disgusting and I had to remind her, "I don't want your room looking like dad's. Not acceptable to have bags of cans for recycling and trash piling up." She heard me and took care of business. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Saturday night I was happy she slept on fresh, clean bedding.
Same story goes for "middle girl," do your studies and it doesn't matter that your room is a bit messy. (Especially if those studies are for four or five senior year, high school AP courses.) It isn't too messy, she's good about keeping things under control - it helps that she doesn't drink soda or take too many snacks up to her room, unlike "dad" and "youngest girl." "Middle girl" does love fashion and looks delightful every time she goes out; that's where her room might get out of hand - the piles of passed over items left as she decides on her "look" for the day. Sunday was her turn to bring down bedding for me to launder... it was due time. *I wish we had backup sets of bedding to alternate because she didn't have her bedspread until way late last night.
As for "the boy," he's the only one seeing things from my perspective and I can tell he's had it with everyone else's lack of consideration towards the doers in the house: the grocery shopper, meal maker, dishwasher, kitchen helper, clothes washer, bathroom cleaner, carpet cleaner, yard sale manager, dog tender... I could go on and on. I do it all, and "the boy" helps as much as he can. He's the only one who shows concern about my health and well being - I guess because he's been around it more than anyone else. He's the only one who shows affection freely and constantly. He shouldn't be here dealing with this. He's supposed to be off at college, discovering life... his life. But, instead he's here, stuck in this muddled mess; working his part-time job and handing over his paycheck every Friday so that we could eat. He's a good kid. I wish I could kick him out of this hopeless nest, let him take flight... soar. *It's such a disservice for him to have be stuck in this mess.
I'll admit, I am very lucky - if this is all that I can complain about with regard to my kids, I'm happy. They've never caused trouble. They've never taken part in any risky adolescent behavior - no alcohol use, no illegal drug use, no under-age sex, no staying out late and partying, no hanging with the wrong crowd. They've each chosen a low-key, uncomplicated lifestyle. I like being around them. They are funny, sweet, loving and smart in a way I can only be extremely happy about... I hope these qualities take them far.
So it was a crummy weekend - as usual, countless chores to do and no offers of help with any of it from anyone. I didn't help that I'm trying to ween myself off Twitter and Facebook by playing Solitaire on the computer. Also, trying to manage chronic pain in this much cooler climate without medication for the first time in many years will be something I'm not looking forward to. Living with fibromyalgia is not fun, like, when you get stuck midway through taking clothes out of the dryer, or can't stand straight back up in the middle of emptying the dishwasher, or have to use furniture and walls to pull yourself to stand. I think it was the vacuuming that did me in on Saturday. I'm in pain and discomfort now.
My biggest disappointment this weekend (and what I know I'll be hating myself for every day) is that I've made the executive household decision to stop recycling. There's only so much a person can do, and as you can see here, people in this house don't do much. So, I have decided, no more recycling. Just throw it away. I don't want to see piles of cardboard, cans, or plastic containers gathering anywhere in this house. Throw it away in the trash, I don't want to see it.
Whew... doesn't feel too bad yet.
Yesterday I ordered another. See, this is a house full of lazies and I'm tired of stewing about how much it sucks that I have to be the one dictating shit to everyone or have to walk around hinting that I've asked a task be done only for my request to be ignored... over and over again.
So any time our dogs, Shadow and Sombra, needed attention, my mantra on Sunday became this: If you don't do anything to help around the house, help with the dogs. I shouted this out every time the dogs needed to be fed, go out, or whined.
I issued my new moratorium for all to hear:
If you don't do anything to help around the house, help with the dogs.
It was a Sunday at the end of a three day weekend for the students in the house ("middle girl" and "youngest girl"), which coincided with first three days of six days in a row of work for "the boy" (increase in hours at B&N job will be a godsend). And, we also felt the first real chill in the air, as well as, first snowfall of the season... on Saturday morning... when we were supposed to do tax guy and bankruptcy attorney fund raising yard sale. By Sunday morning, I was far from having a nice weekend. What's that?
I don't know how "Dad" spends his day, but I can tell you that he comes out of his room to eat several times each day, occasionally beckons "the boy" to help mow the lawn - maybe once a month,. Hmmm... what else? He watches t.v.: Mostly Maury type stuff, a lot of sports, and God knows what else. Oh, maybe once a month he brings his bedding down for washing. Eleven months since he was laid off, I'm not even sure he's even still looking for work. (Just another thing for me to harbor resentment and anger over.) So, I'm most pissed at him on a weekend like this. "Get up!" "Do something!" "What the hell, open your eyes!" is what I shout in my head anytime he's in the same room. I was worried "Dad" was losing his hearing... now, I just blame selective blind-, deaf- and dumbness.
On Saturday, "youngest girl" finally brought me down bedding to be washed. I hate going in her room. It's a major disaster. But, I don't get on her about it too much because she's a good student and assumes her academic responsibilities without a peep from me or "dad." Plus, she's the artistic one in the family, and sometimes out of those messes come lovely creative works. So if the price of coming home after school and doing hours of home work every day is a messy room, so be it. But it does get pretty disgusting and I had to remind her, "I don't want your room looking like dad's. Not acceptable to have bags of cans for recycling and trash piling up." She heard me and took care of business. It doesn't take much to make me happy. Saturday night I was happy she slept on fresh, clean bedding.
Same story goes for "middle girl," do your studies and it doesn't matter that your room is a bit messy. (Especially if those studies are for four or five senior year, high school AP courses.) It isn't too messy, she's good about keeping things under control - it helps that she doesn't drink soda or take too many snacks up to her room, unlike "dad" and "youngest girl." "Middle girl" does love fashion and looks delightful every time she goes out; that's where her room might get out of hand - the piles of passed over items left as she decides on her "look" for the day. Sunday was her turn to bring down bedding for me to launder... it was due time. *I wish we had backup sets of bedding to alternate because she didn't have her bedspread until way late last night.
As for "the boy," he's the only one seeing things from my perspective and I can tell he's had it with everyone else's lack of consideration towards the doers in the house: the grocery shopper, meal maker, dishwasher, kitchen helper, clothes washer, bathroom cleaner, carpet cleaner, yard sale manager, dog tender... I could go on and on. I do it all, and "the boy" helps as much as he can. He's the only one who shows concern about my health and well being - I guess because he's been around it more than anyone else. He's the only one who shows affection freely and constantly. He shouldn't be here dealing with this. He's supposed to be off at college, discovering life... his life. But, instead he's here, stuck in this muddled mess; working his part-time job and handing over his paycheck every Friday so that we could eat. He's a good kid. I wish I could kick him out of this hopeless nest, let him take flight... soar. *It's such a disservice for him to have be stuck in this mess.
I'll admit, I am very lucky - if this is all that I can complain about with regard to my kids, I'm happy. They've never caused trouble. They've never taken part in any risky adolescent behavior - no alcohol use, no illegal drug use, no under-age sex, no staying out late and partying, no hanging with the wrong crowd. They've each chosen a low-key, uncomplicated lifestyle. I like being around them. They are funny, sweet, loving and smart in a way I can only be extremely happy about... I hope these qualities take them far.
*****
So it was a crummy weekend - as usual, countless chores to do and no offers of help with any of it from anyone. I didn't help that I'm trying to ween myself off Twitter and Facebook by playing Solitaire on the computer. Also, trying to manage chronic pain in this much cooler climate without medication for the first time in many years will be something I'm not looking forward to. Living with fibromyalgia is not fun, like, when you get stuck midway through taking clothes out of the dryer, or can't stand straight back up in the middle of emptying the dishwasher, or have to use furniture and walls to pull yourself to stand. I think it was the vacuuming that did me in on Saturday. I'm in pain and discomfort now.
My biggest disappointment this weekend (and what I know I'll be hating myself for every day) is that I've made the executive household decision to stop recycling. There's only so much a person can do, and as you can see here, people in this house don't do much. So, I have decided, no more recycling. Just throw it away. I don't want to see piles of cardboard, cans, or plastic containers gathering anywhere in this house. Throw it away in the trash, I don't want to see it.
Whew... doesn't feel too bad yet.
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