What I’ve Been Doing Instead of Blogging June 27, 2008

1) Working
2) Running around changing my name
3) Honeymooning

Just because my darling husband and I got married Saturday did not mean that the bosses did not expect me back at work on Monday. And Mondays suck - at any job there is. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are slightly better but nevertheless, it’s been a little daunting to switch mental gears from ooey gooey and back again to go to work.

And in the mornings before I go to work, I have been absorbed in the great adventure that is called Changing My Name.

Actually, the name was legally changed in ten minutes on Saturday of course - but no one knows that until you take the certified copy of the marriage certificate here, there and everywhere and have it changed on things like your driver’s license. Then when you get it changed on your driver’s license, you have to have it changed on other things like your checks, your debit card, and - omigod I almost forgot!! - my nursing license.

Oh. And my Social Security card. I might not be going to New York, but I absolutely had a multicultural experience at the Social Security office.

And honeymooning. Ahhhhhhh yes.

Since, as mentioned previously, we have no paid time off until September and we both went right back to work, our method of coping is to treat any day off we have together as a day of our honeymoon.

As in yesterday.

So we slept in together. And then we did a lot of running around to various agencies and places, but then we treated ourselves to lunch at Applebee’s. Which I love, because they have a way of serving things cooked in a way which I never would have thought of. I had a chicken sandwich with cheese AND Ranch AND some spicy something and thought - wow - this is awesome. I never would have thought to put all these different flavors together.

And we were holding hands and chatting and apparently glowing enough at each other at the table that an older woman stopped by our table and said “Keep that up! I’ve been married 42 years and that’s the secret!”

Insert huge grin plastered all over both our faces.

Then we went to the casino, which always seems very decadent in the middle of the day. Then we drove around looking at the way people have landscaped their yards, which is a thing for me.

And at night we came home and built a fire in the fire ring and just sat out there, with my head on his shoulder.

Sigh.

Tuesday was one month since the tornado hit Parkersburg. A whole month - it’s hard to believe.

And as I’ve said before so many times, everything has changed.

Everything.

It’s like decades of anger and bitterness and defensiveness I didn’t even realize was there - or at least to that extent - swirled away in the debris.

What’s left is just bliss.

I haven’t been keeping up on any blogs but one.

But it’s been a week of heaven.

The Most Wonderful Weekend Ever June 23, 2008

OK that last picture makes me laugh. I don’t know what got into me and no - no - no, Britt. Put down the knife or whatever. I’m very obviously not pregnant.

But I am - I remain - funny as hell.

I had the flu on Thursday. I haven’t had the flu since I was pregnant with Britt - and that was like, wow, 29 years ago. The sit-on-the-toilet-with-the-garbage-can-in-your-hands kind of flu. I thought I was going to die. I prayed I would die.

And I was all better for my birthday. And I got the three best birthday presents ever.

And then Saturday. I don’t have the words. It was sweet and informal and very very us.

And Saturday night about 65 friends and neighbors showed up and we grilled and sat around the fire ring on the patio and played with babies and told more funny stories. It was relaxing and fun and we both felt so freaking grateful we could hardly express it.

On Sunday we got up, cleaned up the backyard, hauled tables and chairs back to the fire station where we had borrowed them, and went golfing.

I really suck at golfing. I particularly suck at chipping, or pitching, or whatever they call it. To make a long story short I tried to chip and actually got under it for once - and damn near knocked out my new husband’s - uh - family jewels.

Hehehehehehehehehehehe

And then we went for what I was envisioning as a romantic stroll around Pine Lake. Except that he is 6′4″ - almost a full foot taller than me - and would have to be almost comatose to be strolling at my pace.

So we set off on this enduance hike, went further on this trail than I had ever gone, and then, seeing my distress, uttered those fateful words that should make every woman weep…

“Look, honey. I’m pretty sure that’s a short cut.”

Again. Long story short. We made it back to our cars - some people even offered to give us a ride back on their golf cart - yeah, we wandered onto another golf course in our adventure.

And it was the best best best best weekend ever.

Going back to work today was like when I lived in Mexico as a teenager and had to come back to the United States. I was glad to be home, but it felt like another planet.

No woman on earth is more fortunate than me.

Getting Back to “Normal” June 9, 2008

I must be getting back to some kind of normal - whatever “normal” is.

Because as I look out over my backyard at my neighbor’s yard - a neighbor known for the most beautiful gardens, I find myself turning an unbecoming shade of green.

My friends, I have petunia envy.

Specifically, “wave petunias” - which apparently are all the rage and have been all the rage, only I just discovered them last summer. In said backyard neighbor’s backyard.

Look at these beauties - and no this is NOT my yard. My yard is bare of flowers - in the back anyway.

Last summer I had hanging baskets and big square planters and clever little half moon plots leading into my vegetable garden.

This year - nada.

But I get paid tomorrow……

What Comes From Too Much Freedom May 24, 2008

Hooray for long weekends!

And in my case a long weekend is a TWO day weekend. In four years at my current job - policy of working “every other holiday” notwithstanding - I have never ever had Memorial Day off.

And I don’t care. Because I am NOT picking up extra hours this weekend, and I have TWO whole days off in a row for the first time in over a month!

I came home last night, fended off friends’ text messages to go out with them, welcomed home my baby boy from college, and sat down at the computer and carved up my paycheck into my bills. And with what’s left over I ordered four brand spanking new windows from my favorite supplier. They’re no frills, but they’re perfect for what I need - their prices are good and - even better - their customer service is terrific!

So I sit here on a cloudy, windy day-off morning wondering: what to do? What to do?

I can’t go shopping. Last night’s online ordering spree took care of that.

Right now I’m in the “not so fun and oh so expensive” part of re-feathering my nest. The “I have to get the walls, windows, and floors sound before I can put anything pretty inside” part.

So all the drooling over design websites is just mental gymnastics - kind of like Avi and porn. Hehehehehehe. The budget, she is shot for another 2-1/2 weeks. Turn on HGTV.

I have been invited here and there, but man, I find it harder and harder to leave my little nest, after being away from it so much and so long.

I love Home. Even as shabby and oddly dysfunctional as it is - and I mean that in a structural sense - for once.

I rescued a homemade bird feeder from the neighbor who made it and was going to throw it away because “it’s summer now and the birds can fend for themselves”. Silly man. Like winter won’t come again.

And that sets me to daydreaming about the “losethelawn” area I envision to the east side of my home - a narrow little strip between my house and the neighbors. I’m not a bland expanse of green grass type person. I see winding walkways and flowers and plants selected for their color and height and texture and fragrance.

I see odd little reclaimed treasures tucked here and there - like this homemade bird feeder that uses a license plate bent as the roof. I want to mount it on a pole and sit by the window and watch the little ones come and breakfast while I do.

I want to curl up on my second hand couch, bare feet tucked under me. When you’re on your feet working as much as I am, the shoes come off when the time clock clicks, not to appear again until it’s time to punch in again. Flip flops, sandals, and bare feet are the order of the day.

I want to take my puppies “bye bye”, even if it’s just a run to the convenience store for cigarettes and a fountain pop. “Home”, in my head, extends to my big old cruiser.

I don’t want to “give” to anyone today - not after several days of not feeling well and a month of giving the best I can manage at work.

I want to cook something. I want to nap. I want to go to the library and get new books. I wonder if libraries have shortened hours for Memorial Day?

I wonder if this post is just mindless rambling - and then I wonder if, if so, what the hell is wrong with that?

Panic Ensues! No Internet Connection! May 21, 2008

Sometime around 10 am yesterday I was at the computer (agaaaaaiiiiiin) and noticed I couldn’t connect. No big deal, right? Go to the bathroom, have a cigarette, come back.

Nothing.

I will telescope what could be a fun (or boring) story to tell you that I had NO Internet service for about 24 hours. First, there was a widespread outage. Apparently that ended last night. Then today I still had nothing and had to resort to calling tech support.

Which is always a study in personality at the best of times. Frustrated customer vs. human-being-with-no-people-skills-and-that’s-why-they’re-in-tech-support.

I will be the talk around that water cooler today, I’m sure, because after all of my homemade gyrations involving unplugging this, that, and everything remotely wired to my computer and cable modem, it seems all I had to do was push one button for a “quick reset” and - voila!

Smug bastards.

But at least I’m among the land of the living again. “Real world” afficionados, go away.

See, it was my day off yesterday. And see, I am deep into my total cult-like immersion into all things design - as in looking and looking and looking and searching and thinking and so on, on the Internet, for design-for-small-spaces ideas and how-to information.

Throw in a few sidestrips looking for really fun things like “ashtrays that are also artwork” and you have my down-time pursuits right now.

I couldn’t do that yesterday. And that was what I really wanted to do. And I responded about like a two year old - very un-Zen-like.

I was pissy. I was roiling in self pity. I took a three hour nap to get away from myself. I was crabby with the puppies.

Well, obviously, I’m fixed now. Er - my Internet connection is fixed.

I’m chagrined at how un-hippie-like of me it is to be so crazed about not having Internet connection for a brief time.

And tomorrow I will tell you all the fabulous ideas I have now for ripping out a ridiculously ugly and non-functional hall closet/pantry behemoth - and creating a wall of shelving storage on the half wall that separates living from kitchen. Complete with fold down desk for the computer stuff.

But for now I’m just going to google google google.

And giggle.

Wish you were here!

My Sunday Advice - Do It Anyway May 18, 2008

Actually, this makes me laugh. I am the least qualified person I know to offer anyone advice - and typically people don’t want anyone else’s “advice”.

But I had to come up with something for a headline, right?

Don’t Wait Until _____ To Be Happy. We can all fill in the blanks with any number of things - which would be a fascinating survey in itself.

When we get these bills paid off. I do that one myself. In 2-1/2 years my financial situation will look a lot different than it does now. Unless I get hit by a feed truck and die in the meantime.

When I lose ____ pounds. This one breaks my heart. I’ve never met a woman who doesn’t chain herself to some stump with this one.

When the kids are grown. Or in kindergarten. Or when summer gets here. Or when school starts up again.

When my kitchen is “done”, I will have friends over. Unless, as I said, I die first. Which could happen. Do it anyway. If your friends don’t want to come into a screwed up kitchen, get new friends. Furnish your kitchen first with warmth and memories. The rest will follow.

When I’m done with my degree, then I can start doing stuff I want. Except - uh - you won’t. Because then you’ll be working at your first big job and exhausted and buying stuff you could never afford before and then working more to pay for it. Creed. Do stuff you want right now, and treasure every minute of it.

When we move in together/get married/have kids, our relationship will really blossom and settle into an idyllic fairy tale. Until I get the flu and shit the bed. Or you have a heart attack and can’t work anymore. Or get sent off to war and come home a paraplegic. Or in a box. Make the fairy tale now. Or shut up.

We’ve all talked about the movie “The Bucket List” and even I, the last person to ever get in on anything, saw it. Loved it.

And I don’t have a grand list like “See something truly majestic” on it.

Because I see something majestic every single day of my life.

And so do you, if you truly “saw”.

My baby is going to New York next month because it’s something she’s always wanted to do, and I am very very proud of her.

But it doesn’t have to be that big and grand of a thing.

Get a pedicure if you’ve never had one. Or even if it’s just been too long since you’ve had one. Unless, like me, you’re kind of “meh” about pedicures. Nice, but, eh, I can live without it.

Don’t let anyone else tell you what you should want.

Just want. And then go do it.

This weekend, I really want to make gumbo and eat it with my son. So I’m off to the store to buy the ingredients.

In my life, I have known the following people:

A young man in his early twenties who went out hunting with friends for a day, and came home a quadriplegic. Who then finished college, bought a house and fitted it all out for his needs, and got an awesome job. Who has a wicked sense of humor.

A man who worked all his life the way he was “supposed to”, saw his lifelong employer go belly up and his pension disappear, and his wife develop and live with Alzheimer’s under his care until she died. Who is one of my best and most favorite friends.

A woman who left all she knew and had to follow a man to another continent, only to have said marriage dissolve, and then created a fascinating and colorful life for herself with her own two hands. Not without its mishaps, but without her, I would not exist. She was my mom.

I am acutely aware of how precarious life can be, how comically our plans can turn out, and how very very unaware of how much joy there is to be had - that we blithely and irresponsibly ignore.

If we want a more joyous world in which to live, we have to start being more joyous people.

And we already have everything we need right now to be at least a little bit joyous.

Do it for me. I need more joyous people around me.

Cynical, whiny ass people suck the life out of me.

I’m your girl if you need a sympathetic ear when you’re going through a rough patch.

But if you want to stay there and build a cozy little nest in misery, constantly cataloguing everything that’s ever not turned out your way, everyone who’s ever disappointed you or not appreciated you or hurt your feelings or broke your heart - please go elsewhere.

Bring me your gifts of joy, and I will share mine with you.

Or get the fuck outtahere.

*giggle*

Random thought: A long time ago I met a guy who told me, very seriously, how “vulgar” he thought it was to hear a woman use the word “c*cksucker”. And actually, I kind of think so too. But being who I am, what word do you suppose I used 48 times in the next five minutes in every possible combination I could think of? Hehehehehehehehe

An Unplanned Night That Turned Out Fabulously May 17, 2008

Did you ever notice how the very best nights out aren’t planned at all? They’re the result of somebody’s “Let’s go do something” and may wind up anywhere. But maybe it’s because there aren’t any expectations other than a little unwinding that suddenly everyone’s having the time of their lives.

I really needed a few hours away with friends, especially after a long few weeks work wise and holing myself up by myself to do some much needed thinking. It’s good to spend time by yourself - and I’m really glad to have that opportunity, when I know a lot of people (women especially) don’t.

But I am - as we all know - a social creature. And sometimes just to sit and mingle and laugh with a bunch of people is exactly what the doctor ordered.

I got my hair cut Thursday. I am one of those women who typically drags her feet about getting her hair cut because I’m so afraid they’re going to screw it up. I have long curly hair that I love, as you’ve probably seen, and it’s not as common as you would think to find someone who knows how to cut hair like that and have it come out looking good.

Well, to make a long story short, I did. Someone actually who also has curly hair. So she layered the shit out of my hair and then, for fun, she straightened it with a flat iron. I felt like I was wearing a beautiful disguise.

So when my friend called and asked if I wanted to go out for a few hours after work, I said sure!

Now, I get off work at 10:30 at night. Bars here close a little before 2. Obviously, we aren’t talking about even the possibility of an all out bacchanalia.

We made it to the local hangout at 11 and had a drink. Not much going on there, and we had to go pick up my friend’s daughter at a friends’ at some point.

So we headed out of town, I called another friend, and off we went to meet her. In a bar in the town I just moved away from two months ago.

And wouldn’t you know it, they were having karaoke.

No, I didn’t sing, but my friend did. “It’s My Life” by Bon Jovi. I ran into a bunch of women friends I hadn’t seen in so, so long. Hug - hug. Air kiss - air kiss.

I don’t know how to explain it to you but it was just very cool. There was a gaggle of young ones doing a lot of the singing, and there was one young girl who seriously rocked. In fact, she and another girl sang a song that took me back to my daughter’s teen years - “Shoop”? And that made me very tickled.

At two we headed over to get the daughter in yet another town and met these two very cool women - the moms of the daughter’s friends. One of them said, offhandedly, “Yeah, my kids call me a hippie.” and I almost swooned.

I got home far too late for someone who knew her dogs would wake her early - but it was before four, so that’s good.

And of course, I have to work today and tomorrow. In fact, I have to train today, which I hate under normal circumstances. But it’s part of my job, and a part I take seriously.

Now I feel defensive, like “I didn’t do anything wrong.” The results of past conditioning and continued harranguing. I’m not the minister of a megachurch caught trying to boink a 13 year old girl like this guy, after all.

I saw some friends my kids had graduated with, in town for a wedding. And as I said, some women friends I really really like whom I haven’t seen in a long, long time. And of course the random faces that exist just to entertain me. No old boyfriends or ex-husbands on the horizon - no drama - everyone just having fun.

I love those unplanned things!

Things That I Really, Really Like May 16, 2008

This is kind of a silly post. But then, I am in kind of a silly mood. Just, you know, happy.

I was going to title this post “Things I Love” but then I would have to do the whole disclaimer thing about how, most of all of course, I love my children, my grandchildren, blah blah blah. Or be branded a bad mother and shallow person.

I do love those things - er, people - with a fiery passion and fierceness that would scare you, were you to run afoul of it.

But that’s not the point of this post. This is merely a “fluff” post, written to celebrate a lovely, contented and grateful mood I’m in.

Here is a list of things that I Really Like a Lot, that Make Me Happy:

My Washing Machine and My Clothesline: Because I can make my entire world look and smell and feel better simply by washing my bed linens, hanging them out to dry, and then snuggling into them at night.

My Puppies: No, they are not my children. But they are indeed, my roommates and friends. When I tell people that “we” are going to the park or for a walk or to Dollar General, they are the companions to whom I am referring. They are the “people” I spend most of my time with, outside of work. Not because I am a lonely loser, but because they are funny as hell, adore the shit out of me, and make me laugh consistently.

My New “Outdoor Living Space”: Which sounds a lot cooler than it is, aesthetically speaking. I dragged my old wicker loveseat around to the south end of my house, which faces very little. And I sit out there of a morning smoking cigarettes, drinking a great big travel cup of hot coffee, listening to the birds and feeling unseen, because of the big tree which has finally leafed out and which shields me.

My New Bathroom: with virgin vanity territory, that I can leave stuff out on, like my new flat iron, and go to work and not worry about it being in anyone’s way or “space” or looking untidy. I like everything about it, from the peel and stick tile floors that look like stone, to the cabinet doors I primed and painted and put hinges on and hung all by myself - and they work! To the hidden nook for my laundry basket. I like it a lot.

Reading Other People’s Blogs In The Morning: There are really some fascinating people around. It’s like, when I read the paper newspaper eons ago, I always went to the Op-Ed section and read the columns and editorials first. Because people, and their perspectives, are amazing. I can’t list one without listing a lot, and then surely I’d leave someone out. But it’s a treasure in my life.

That’s my short list today.

What are some things that you really like, that make you happy on an ordinary day?

Splitting My Pants Was The Highlight of My Day May 8, 2008

Damn. I just gave away the punch line.

That’s OK, because it really is a funny story.

So anyway, yesterday was really and truly the worst work day I have had in a long long time. Like, bad in comic and epic proportions. From getting there almost late (because I realized I had a 1:30 meeting at 1:20 instead of my usual 2 pm start time), to a loooooonnnnnnnngggggg inservice meeting which then set my routine schedule back by two hours, to a meeting in which basically we all got our asses chewed for two hours because my boss had had it and handles that about as well as I do, to a sudden admission and two hours for ME to do it in, except that right as I got started I had another medical emergency come up which ate up an hour, two MY two aides both leaving at 9 pm instead of 10 pm, and the other two unable to help me because the entire place had gone pretty much nucking futs by then, so that took another hour away from me doing MY job.

So I got out of there a little after midnight, instead of at 10:30. And I get really cranky - and worried about my dogs at home alone - by that time.

So - yeah - I was getting grumpier and pissier by the minute. And then comes the supper hour - a 90 minute span in which it is, under normal circumstances, flat out balls to the wall. And today, obviously, it was ballsier and wallsier.

And then it happened.

See, I wear my scrubs two sizes too big deliberately, because somehow it is always me that ends up crawling under beds and doing stuff that requires a little extra agility and freedom of movement. And I’ve only gotten stuck UNDER a malfunctioning electric bed ONCE!

But if you’ve ever worn loose fitting thin cotton pants before, you know there is a requisite maneuver that ALWAYS has to precede such squatting and bending and assorted gymnastics. Because the crotch of the pants hangs about mid-thigh, it means that EVERY TIME you have to start the movement with this little hitch thing to pull them up a little.

Which is no problem because it’s pretty much automatic for me after years of this strategy.

Until today.

A sudden calling to squat, I forgot, and RRRRIIIIPPPPP.

In a crowded dining room full of a good two thirds of the people in the building at the present time.

“Nuh uh,” say I. I contort myself around to look at my crotch.

“Sonofabitch” I say then. Yep. Crotchless scrubs.

Now, beings as they are two sizes too big, no one can see that but me. But between the telltale RRRRIIIIPPPPP sound and me suddenly laughing hysterically, yeah, everyone knew about it in two point three.

Remember, I subscribe to the belief that if it’s funny, it musy be shared. No matter if it’s humiliating to me or anyone else - especially me. Funny trumps all. Guess who else believes the same thing? Hehehehehehehe

Because seriously - if you were having “the worst work day you’d had in a long time” - wouldn’t splitting the crotch right out of your pants be the absolute topper to an already ridiculous day?

Wouldn’t you take it as some kind of sign?

Maybe you had to be there?

Breakfast With Old People May 3, 2008

Oh my gosh, I just came back from the funnest breakfast I’ve had in a long long time.

See, you know I’ve told you that my friends are not of any particular age group, and I have one dearly beloved man friend who is 93 years old. I’ve known him for about 4 years and he’s absolutely one of the coolest and funniest people I’ve ever met.

He’s also one of the most inspiring. Not only because he’s had a fascinating life - he had his pilot’s license and own plane back before that was very commonplace at all - but he’s also been kicked harder by the vagaries of life than most regular people could imagine. With some of the stuff that has happened in his life, through none of his own fault, you would expect him to be on Jerry Springer, or at the very least Dr. Phil, telling the world the why’s and wherefore’s of his bitterness and depression.

And yet, this guy has none of that. He’s cheerful as hell, concerned about everyone, finds something to laugh about at least twenty times a day. Oh - and he loves me to death. Which of course makes him aces in my book.

So anyway, yesterday we concocted the idea that we would go out and have breakfast together, and while I refused to go at 7 am, which is when he normally has breakfast and when I normally am fumbling for the prybar to get my eyes open, we did compromise on eight and agreed to head to the local teeny tiny wooden floor grocery store, which has done some very smart value added marketing by offering breakfasts and lunches.

Oh, kids, turns out “Dean’s” is the place to be on a Saturday morning, and I laughed myself silly.

When you walk in, there is one long table that is encircled by “the guys”. The old farmers who come in and have coffee and sit there for hours and hours discussing the weather and God knows what else. I say “God knows” because, believe me, a woman daresn’t (”daresn’t” is a small town Midwestern word) go over there. You can stop by and say hello - and you better - but it is strictly verboten for a woman to sit there.

Then you have the long table where all the old ladies sit. They meet regularly, it seems, on Saturday mornings for breakfast. Regularly enough that the waittress knows what each woman orders and just brings it, unbidden. They talk about everyone in town, who’s had what surgery and God knows what else. I say “God knows” because, although I did sit there unknowingly, I knew they wouldn’t get to the good and juicy gossip until I left.

And then there are two or three smaller tables where the younger folks go - the middle aged ones like me with their spouses or their grandkids they’ve kept overnight.

So my buddy and I walk in, head to the second table, and lo and behold, before we even ordered, we were descended upon by a flock of older women, who hadn’t seen my friend out and about in a long time. Kids, I tell ya, you could almost hear the soft twitter of excitement.

I knew most of them too - they come visit where I work, and some have been there for rehab stints.

So we just had a grand old time. My buddy and I would look at each other from time to time laughing at something. I swear to God it will be all over town by church tomorrow that he and I had a date this morning.

The old ladies would mutter to each other in German phrases. Hey, girls, I’ve worked with your age group long enough to understand a lot of that, OK?

And there are the inevitable geneology questions. “Who are your people, dear? Where are they from?” It took me a couple of years of those questions to realize that when they were asked, they weren’t asking where I had lived in the last ten years or so. They wanted to know family tree type stuff - and country of ancestral origin. I’ve finally gotten it down to a few sentences that make them all nod approvingly. I am accepted. I will always be “an outsider”, but I am OK, I guess.

And we ate - oh Lord we ate! For a grand total of $7.75 for the two of us, including coffee, we waddled out of there like two stuffed hogs.

Then, of course, we had to drive around a little bit looking to see if the water had gone down. We’ve had some pretty spectacular flooding here in the last week or so. And he showed me the house he and his wife had lived in for forty years before she died.

I dropped him off and we promised to do it again sometime soon, and I really hope we do. He is a treasure I want to appreciate while he’s here - a gift God put in my life to remind me that my piddly little shit ain’t much at all.

And to remind me that I am loved.

What a nice, nice morning!