Fighting

So much fighting these days! Mom's already fighting breast cancer and now the latest discovery: she has uterine cancer to fight as well. During our all day stay at the "prestigious" hospital, I fought with the nurse...

I've been fighting the urge to break under the pressure. I've been fighting fatigue. Fighting my house that doesn't want to stay organized while I fight all these fights. Fighting with my boss. Fighting with my missing socks. Fighting to find time for myself. Fighting my gut instinct that my wanted-to-be-exclusive guy is a schmuck because maybe it's really me... That resulted in a fight through texting.

I thought I was a lover not a fighter. Wait. I AM a lover not a fighter. What the hell has happened here?

It's Complicated. And bullshit too! (A rant...)

• I've been on the treadmill doing extensive cardio FIVE DAYS A WEEK and now weigh the same as I did when I started...
• My mom had exploratory surgery Monday and she now has MORE cancer, different cancer...
• I barely slept
• My boss pissed me off
• I'm premenstrual
• My 5 date guy was on a date with someone else tonight, which he's entitled to, but I didn't like it
• I don't know what to do about the not liking it
• I hate bitching!

Murphy's Laws of Dating

Today was the big lunch date. A first date. During my lunch break. During the work day. I thought the hardest part would be figure out what business casual outfit would pass for flirtatious without making me look like an office whore. Wrong.

• I woke up early, but somehow found myself short on time and feeling rushed.
• My cat had puked all over the hallway, on the freshly shampooed carpets no less.
• Despite a valiant effort to wear my hair down, it looked like shit so I put it in a ponytail. A complete waste of 30 minutes.
• I went into a panic because I couldn't find my keys and we had a meeting first thing. They were still in the door.
• The meeting I was in such a rush for, wound up starting an hour late.
• While I was waiting for the meeting I noticed I had cat puke on the bottom of my shoe.
• The late meeting ran late and I didn't have time to try and salvage my hair
• Some weird dude in a red car might have been trying to kidnap me on the walk to the restaurant.
• I was 8 minutes early... my date was 30 minutes late...

And the grand finale:

• I decided to get a car wash on my way home. Put the money in the machine, start pulling forward... and ooops... looks like my window is off track and won't go back up.

As far at the actual date goes, he was attractive, personable and seemingly normal. He was coming in from out of town, hadn't been here before, and was messaging me the entire time he was lost, so I'll give him a pass for the tardiness this time. As we were leaving, he said the same thing as Sunday guy, "I hope we can do it again sometime," and he followed with a "Thanks for the great company" text. He may very well have made it to the next round...

Woah people! That's two in a row! Bringing the second date worthy stat to 33%...

Twisted

It's the first of November! What? What happened? Did someone hit the "fast forward" button on my life? Am I so old that the days do indeed fly by?

Last night's trick or treating was basically a bust. We had a couple families with kids move into the neighborhood in recent months, so I foolishly expected a greater number of ghouls and goblins. Not only did I buy too many bags of candy the first time, I even picked up another bag that afternoon. I think maybe ten kids came to the door.

What happened to trick or treating? Has it been phased out by H1N1, child predators and the recession?

We had to turn the clocks back last night and I can say that having the sun actually shine when I am getting up was simply fabulous! If I've got sunshine on my side, morning is something I enthusiastically embrace; but days on end of doom and gloom, with the sun barely peeking out of the clouds when I pull into the parking lot at work... put a damper on my levels of motivation.

So excited to see the sun, I started to plan all of the great outdoor things I was going to do today: feed the birds, rake the leaves, walk to the park to feed the ducks, and clean out my flowerbeds. I managed to get the birds fed, but, I then twisted my left ankle prett'near 360 degrees on my way up the steps. The initial pain was almost unbearable! Now, two hours later, I'm on my couch, foot propped up on a pillow and body hopped up on some ibuprofen.

Not knowing the right way to handle this twisted situation, I'm reluctantly "taking it easy." Watching "Bewitched" on T.V. was not on my "I can't wait to do" list today. Pffft!

But... Her Worth...

It's the busiest month of the year at work; so busy, that no one is allowed to take vacation during October. And I have committed to another remodel in my "spare" time that has a non-negotiable completion date of October 14th.

Before going to bed last night, I knew I was facing at least four straight hours of meetings first thing. So I went to bed early. Made sense to me. Unfortunately, my body didn't give a shit and decided I would think waking up at 2 a.m. would be a lot of fun. After two and half hours of misery, I drove off in the darkness to the "nearest" 24 hour pharmacy in search of relief... which happens to be clear across town.

I was able to sneak in about one hour of rest before my alarm clock began screaming at me. Fuck. I needed antibiotics; I desperately needed sleep, and had no groceries for lunch... let alone time for breakfast. My chances of having a "good" day were obsolete.

Since I somehow survived my meeting marathon without swearing at anyone, or falling asleep face first in a pile of papers I pretended to take notes on... I decided to do the right thing and get some damned groceries after work. Like most, I'm hyper aware of my finances and still brimming with a little paranoia that they might disappear in the night like the now-mythological "stable" job, so I've limited myself to bare necessities and eliminated "luxuries." Luxuries like things that aren't on sale, or name brand items.

Because I refuse to waste food (and money), I had to buy more syrup for the box of never-ending pancake mix I bought a few weeks ago. I found myself tired, miserable, and dizzy in the syrup aisle... trying to solve the riddle of what bottle to buy. And then, I realized that what I was really searching for was just a drop of simple joy. The simple joy that we find in sometimes the oddest of things... like a bottle of syrup.

When I was a little, and very impressionable, girl... Mrs. Butterworth fascinated me. I admit it, for a brief time in my life, I really believed that she could talk. I remember sitting at the breakfast table staring at "her," wondering what it took to get her to acknowledge me. Obviously, I'm easily amused; but I'm also easily able to find happiness in the simplest of things. So I made an executive decision, and decided that the fond childhood memory of Mrs. Butterworth giving me the silent treatment was well worth the extra 80 cents and I put her in my cart.

I've already gotten my 80 cents worth... When I got home, I was compelled to take her picture, look up the article revealing her mysterious first name, and find one of the old commercials that made me believe in her in the first place on Youtube. Wouldn't you know, her first name is "Joy." You see, it wasn't her price tag... but her worth, that was most important.

http://www.myfoxdc.com/dpp/news/dpgo_mrs_butterworths_first_name_revealed_lwf_20091002_3838749

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFQTuIstI6w&feature=related

Labor Day (Night and) Weekend!

Ah another "holiday" weekend. Labor Day weekend is when people pack up and go camping, boating and sailing for the last time... the grand finale of a fun-filled summer. At least that's what I hear!

I've spent mine priming siding, painting siding, painting trim, painting spiders, scraping paint off of windows... and my new talent: patching concrete. One of the three different guys that said they would cut my old iron railings off of my front steps finally showed up around noon today. I seriously would have baked a cake and bought party hats to celebrate their removal if I knew he was actually going to show up to do it today! Even though my front steps are white with primer and dotted with concrete patch... not having those tired, older-than-me black iron railings attached to my newly spruced up house makes an amazing difference.

The sun against the white primer and paint was blinding, and the heat combined with the inability to remain hydrated led to my falling off the ladder twice. Deciding it was time for a break, before I had a bone break... I stopped at the garage sale my neighbor was having. They had two great Adirondack style lawn chairs for $4 a piece! And... they match my trim color almost exactly!!! Yessssssss! Score! The guy manning the cash box said, "Oh you're that girl that has been doing all of that work to your house all by yourself with no man around." "Yeah. In hindsight, I should have gotten married for the summer." I replied in jest.


Not afraid of hard work, I'm actually rather proud that I have done 95% of it completely on my own. This is my first time doing exterior painting, and aside from trying to gently coax a bazillion spiders out of my eaves, I have enjoyed it. Doing it yourself, especially as a female, lends a sense of incredible pride. My goal is to finish by the end of the holiday weekend... if I don't fall off the ladder again, that is.

Tomorrow, I'll be off to the hardware stores. My shopping list includes a 32 inch door to replace the one on the back of my garage. The existing one is beyond salvation, and after painting all that surrounds it, it has become, perhaps, the ugliest door I have ever seen! I'll also be picking up three pairs of shutters for the upper level windows; although I have no clue how the hell I'll get up there to hang them. Then I'll be picking up two little necessities: a mat for the garage right outside the door, so I can quit tracking in dirt and debris, and a new thistle feeder to replace the one that was broken when the feeder hook tipped over this morning.

Up until a second ago, I was being tormented by a very loud cricket chirping in the kitchen. It seemed that this noisy bugger was behind my stove, but he hopped out into my vision and I have since scooped him into a cup and escorted him outside. My hope for a good night's sleep has been restored.

Shamefully, I can't recall a single Labor Day Weekend since turning 15, that I haven't worked. I made a very poor attempt at scheduling one day at the beach to break up my remodelling marathon... but considering the nearing change of weather, and my mildly obsessive need to "finish what you start," completing as much as I can around my house has to be the right thing to do. Right?

Tortured Soul

Holy crap am I bored!

This has been one of the most torturous days of my life! Mentally I feel ready to take on the world. Physically, I'm a hopeless, homebound, blob of pain. Stuck with stupid t.v. as my sole source of entertainment for the day, I feel less intelligent. A good book from the library would have saved my soul.

Surely I will feel better in the morning. Regardless of how well I actually feel, I am going into work. Spending the day in the house again would cause me to seek out the highest possible window to jump out of. It feels like days have passed since I interacted with the outside world! Funny what an involuntary day of rest does to the mind and spirit.

"Wild" Weekend

Usually when people say they had a "wild weekend" stories involving loud music, booze, and nudity follow that intro. My wild weekend was quite the opposite: it was literally wild!

Late Friday afternoon, after painting two sections of my garage in barely bearable heat, I got into the shower to wash off the paint and sweat before going out to dinner. I turned on the water, stepped in the shower, closed the curtain, and... saw a huge spider scurry swiftly up the curtain! A "normal" response would be to find something to kill it with. I thought it more important to run through the house wet and naked to find my camera and photograph the eight-legged beast! The photo does not do it justice. This spider was one of the biggest I have seen in "real life." A lover of all creatures great and small, I don't typically condone killing anything; not even an ant. However, if something "violates my person" or poses a legitimate threat to my existence, I will consider the kill. (Read mosquitoes!) I tried to send this spider swimming down the drain when I returned to my shower, but he overpowered the current and scampered back up the shower curtain, only this time he was on the other side. Short on time, I chose to shower anyway, all the while just knowing that spider was crawling up my leg, or burrowed into my back.

About five minutes passed between the arrival of my dinner date and the beginning of my "You would not believe the size of this frickin' spider that's in my shower!" story. My "date" and I have known each other for ten years, and I know he does not like spiders at all. I thought he would freak out and refuse to be in my house, but he marched right into the bathroom and demanded I tell him where it was. He grabbed it with a wad of toilet paper and nearly lost the battle as the stubborn spider was fighting to the death! Finally, he flung him into the toilet, and flushed him to his watery grave. I'm not gonna lie... the first time I had to sit on the toilet later that evening, I suspected he might bite my rear!

Fast forward to Saturday.

After sitting with Chester and taking a nap, I settled onto the couch to watch the movie "Ratatouille" on t.v. About a half hour into the movie, I saw a large, dark shadow fly past the corner of my eye. Thinking nothing of it, I continued watching the movie. Soon after, my 15 year-old cat with dementia started leaping all about the dining room and jumped on top of the table. When I stood up to investigate, I was dive-bombed by a giant bat! What the hell!? I quickly tossed the throw blanket I had been curled up with on top of my head and began running around the house like a frantic Muslim woman! I opened both my front doors, hoping it would fly out, but the bat seemed to be mesmerized by the rotation of the ceiling fan and chose to swoop at me in circles instead of going back outside. After apparently growing bored of it's circular flight pattern, it then flew in and out of every room on the lower level of my house. I called up my spider hunter from the night before and listened to him laugh hysterically at my squealing. He lives 25 miles away and was at his friend's house, so driving back over for yet another rescue of the damsel in distress was out of the question.

"Call your brother and tell him to get his ass over then and get that bat." He said.

Ugh. I've lived most of my live proudly not needing a man around. This would make two nights in a row! Granted, I would have survived my scary spider situation just fine and it was coincidence that I had a man coming over to take me to dinner and therefore present to kill the spider. I did go to the garage to get a broom, trying to talk myself into feeling confident that I could remove the bat myself. But, with the door open for over a half an hour now, I had to either act fast, or face the possibility that my house would now be filled with mosquitoes that would feast on my body while I slept; sucking every last drop of blood out of my body. Humbled, I went next door, blanket still atop my head, broom in hand, and fetched my brother.

By this time, the bat had affixed itself to the dining room wall. What a curious site that is! How they can just stick there like that is fascinating, and creepy, at the same time. Without his wingspan, he looked less intimidating, and almost cute. Using a broom and bed sheet, my brother managed to get him off the wall and into a lampshade. We unplugged the lap and took it outside where the bat crawled out and flew away... almost right back into my house!

Yes, folks, that's as wild as I got this weekend! I suppose I have to admit that those concurrent events made me realize that having someone around to help you isn't so bad after all. I remember wondering how late I would have to stay up before the bat finally found the door and flew out. Maybe cohabitation with a man wouldn't be that bad. Maybe it would even be nice! In the meantime, I'll simply have to be grateful that my brother is staying next door and wasn't as chicken as his little sister when it comes to bat removal.

Putting Zee Foot in Zee Mouth!

Tonight was our "Raku" firing for our ceramic pieces. It's a no-frills Japanese method involving metal trash cans, crumpled newspaper and lighter fluid. Because I was away at a work conference, I had to join the beginners group for their firing tonight; a group of people I had not met before. Us creative "weirdos" have an instantaneous bond. Kind of like computer geeks, musicians, compulsive shoppers... you know... you just "get" each other. It's a very casual outdoor evening, with a pot luck of tasty creative cuisine, and intriguing chit-chat. Feeling right at home, I was being my usual idiot self.

So there I was, cooling my fresh-from-the-fire bowl, when I overheard a distinctively French accent. I looked up from my smoldering clay to examine the source of this melodic voice; only to see a somewhat attractive man. Hmmm. Monsieur Cute Guy. In standard dipshit form, I proceeded to ask where he was from.

"Here." He replied in zee Frenchest of French accents.

Yeah right. Half the men from this town can't even speak proper English, let alone pull off a convincing French accent. Explaining further, he said he travelled quite a bit while he was living in France and that was why he didn't specify his prior residence.

"What brought you here?" I asked curiously. I mean, really, I've been to France. The hell if I'd turn my back on that beautiful architecture to live in the armpit of America!

"My wife." He replied tersely.

Nice. I hit on the married French guy with a wife two feet away. Pretty smooth, Mona, pretty smooth.

Potato Salad for the Soul

I'm happy to report that I've gotten out of bed. I look like a hot mess, but I'm feeling a little better. I really didn't like feeling as though I was falling apart, but I needed to process a lot of pent up emotion before I exploded. So I exploded.

I hate crying. It makes me feel stupid. But... sometimes we just have to let it out. And I'm grateful that I did, grateful for my good friends who listened to my pathetic babbling, and thank God I work with wonderful, understanding people. The reality of life is that sometimes it's hard. And lately, I've just had too much coming at me at once, and didn't have, nor make, the time to work it out. I was barely hanging on... and then I found out a dear man I knew succombed to cancer. He was supposed to have 3-6 months; but he only made it two weeks. Sadly, because I was wrapped up in my own shit and don't get the paper... I missed his funeral. And of course, I'm sad that he died. Just as I fear my Chester is dying. His death reminded me how fragile my Chester is.


So after hours of tears, countless naps, and thoughts good and bad... I got up off my ass and started therapy. Cooking therapy. I busied my mind with the tedious dicing of celery, bacon, onions, eggs, and potatos. A little potato salad for the soul, if you will. I've exchanged the mess of feelings in my mind for a mess in the kitchen... and I'm okay with both of them. I'm okay. Sometimes things stress us out. Sometimes things hurt. Sometimes people that have been kind to you do things that are unkind. I really don't understand why, and just like the silence that surrounded the existence of my father hurt me... this silence hurts too. But it won't hurt forever. Thank you for being there... you know who you are.

S'now Big Deal

I did my "Spring Cleaning" yesterday, despite not having ample sunshine to inspire my ass to keep moving. I had to settle for the 80's channel on the satellite radio. I washed and rehung all of the drapes, swept and mopped every moppable floor, vacuumed behind the couch, and swept down the abandoned spider suburbs from the ceiling corners. My house was sparkling Spring fresh!

And what do I wake up to?

Snow.

Seriously?

And here I thought that the reason I didn't haul my spring/summer wardrobe down from the spare bedroom was because I was too lazy. Turns out my inner-meteorologist told me it would be a waste of time. I thought it was odd that my furnace was running. Surely once it's the second week of April temperatures can manage to be higher than 58 degrees!

Oh... yeah. I live in the state that's apparently too broke to afford Spring. Now I'm left to wonder if my many tulips, daffodils, iris, and whatever other flowers I planted last year, are permanently damaged from the chill of snowflakes on their newly green leaves.

I'm gonna be a good sport, kind of, and look at this morning as an opportunity to officially retire my black high heel boots for the season. I have honestly missed them, but the thought of strolling downtown on a sunny afternoon during my lunch break had been tip-toe-ing through my mind. "Patience is a virtue," so they say. Well, I waited, semi-patiently, some ten months to find a job... I suppose I could wait a few more weeks for Spring. Sigh.

Soapbox Confessions

I think to say you have "grown up" you must learn the art of forgiveness. I know most people expect you to grow up by your mid-twenties... but, hey, we're all different; and some of us really seem to like doing things the hard way.


I'm happy to say, that at the "young" age of 35... I truly started growing up. When we let the pain of the past wrongs, or the embarrassment of past mistakes control our minds, we prevent ourselves from living life in the present, let alone having any hopes for happiness in the future. Unfortunately, although time stands still in our hearts and minds... we still physically grow old. Bullshit, I say!

Anyway... I've had the pleasure of running into several people I hadn't seen in over 15 years, in the past several months... people that may have not seen me at my best. And how could they have? I was an emotional mess when I was young! And after talking with a few of them, most of us were! I might be turning into a "super sap" in my old age... but there is something truly beautiful, and liberating, about forgiving people for simply being human.


If you were to have asked me, even five years ago, if I would ever consider opening the lines of communication with my very absent father... I would have said "hell no!" and maybe even told you to kiss my ass! But somewhere along my journey through this crazy little thing called "life," I realized that every single one of us has had some sort of struggle, hardship, tragedy, or emotionally devastating event occur in our lives. I realized that maybe my dad wasn't a dad because he literally couldn't be one... maybe he didn't know how. I'm not going to say that his lack of involvement in my life didn't hurt me, and I'm not going to say that exchanging a dozen or so emails with him magically erases any past wrongs or regrets. What I will say, is that just about anyone will tell you that life didn't quite go the way they planned it to... and I don't believe that anyone intentionally makes bad choices. They do what they know... and do what they can.



Does this make it right? Of course not. But if we spend our lives keeping score of who was "right" and who was "wrong," who was "good" and who was "bad," we immediately slam the door of opportunity... the opportunity to love and to learn from other people. The opportunity to forgive. The opportunity to have peace and forgiveness; true happiness in our lives.



Yesterday does not matter! We cannot change the past. We can't change the things we wished we wouldn't have done or said, anymore than those who have hurt us can. But what we can do, is accept things for what they were... what they are... and forgive. Most importantly... forgive ourselves.



Of course I wish that things could have been this "easy" when I was younger, but if I hadn't gone through my own hard times, who's to say I would be the person that I am now? And although I do think it's sad that it took me this many years to be able to talk about those "terrible" things that held be back from being truly happy for so many years... I'm very thankful that I can now say, I just plain don't give a shit! I punished myself for things I had no control over, things I didn't do, things I didn't ask for... and if being blatantly in-your-face honest prevents someone from taking the hard, and painful path... or suffering a life in painful silence... I'll risk the gossip... the "oh my God can you believe?"s...



That's me. A peace-love-and-happiness-can't-we-all-just-get-along kinda girl. And if you haven't noticed, I'm not apologizing for that anymore. I'll proudly stand on my soap box and let you make fun of my obnoxious eighties hair, shake your finger in shame about the guy I shouldn't have slept with, or wonder why I didn't "make something of myself" sooner... because I know if you're reading this, you've got a big heart in you, somewhere (smile!)...


Uh-oh! That big fat clown is coming across the stage now with that big, shut-the-fuck-up cane...

The Prices We Pay...

What an amazing morning! I slept well last night. One of the best night's rest I have had in a long time. Since deciding to end my pursuit of the full-time position as Administrative Support to the Director of Operations at the job that offered benefits, but lower pay, and no "purpose," I feel a great sense of peace. And relief. I woke up to the sunrise gently kissing my face; feeling alive, and ready to enjoy the day.

My latest revelation makes me terribly concerned for the emotional well-being of the millions of people who are still suffering the unemployment and economic crisis. Any of you that have been through it know that being out of work, especially when you are trying to support a household or family, is an incredibly stressful thing. Add to that being forced to take whatever job you can get, regardless of whether or not it is something you enjoy doing, a job that does not allow you to do those non-work-related things that bring you the ever-important enjoyment of life... and you have yourself a potential mental nightmare!

In support of my own quest to avoid finding myself working solely for "the man," and doing something 2,000 hours a year that doesn't bring me some sense of fulfillment... I'm going to stick to my plan to pare down my expenses, and continue on with my non-profit work, caring for Chester, and pursuing my creative adventures. There is a slight bit of risk involved. My job is only guaranteed until September, and it's future is dependent upon the receipt of additional grant funding... But I'd rather be doing something I love, and living the life I have fought so hard to live, for six months, rather than zero months! By following this master plan, I'm only sacrificing material things, instead of sacrificing my entire existence. Giving up my fancy conditioner, as opposed to my identity, sounds like the smartest decision I have made in many years!

So... I continue my quest to spend money wisely. Save whenever, and wherever I can. That meant I was forced to go to Walmart. Many a better-than-you type person would tell you they would rather pull their own teeth out with dirty pliers that be caught dead in Walmart. I've got to confess that I don't really care to shop there either. I am not bothered by the fact that the majority of Walmart shoppers are of a lower socio-economic status. Hell, I'm not exactly rich. At least not in a monetary sense. What bothers me, is the commotion! I have a gift of travelling down the same aisles as the mother of a pack of unruly, disheveled, screaming me-mes, who doesn't understand that the aisle is barely wide enough for two carts to travel side by side... so leaving her cart, with the wailing, snot-nosed baby in the seat, in the middle of the canned good section, makes my shopping inconvenient; and my head pound! But if I'm going to successfully find my true calling in life, I've got to shop where I can get the most for my money, and that just happens to be where the overly-reproductive people shop as well. A small sacrifice, I suppose, in the big scheme of things.

Saving money takes a little bit of effort, and a lot of creativity. This morning, I replaced my very worn and hardly working wiper blades with the new ones I purchased, from Walmart, for $4.97 a piece. I have no idea what the current going rate is for wiper blades at those one-stop oil- change-and-more type places, but I have a vague memory of spending at least twenty bucks to have them replace and install new wipers on my car in my early, naive, twenties. They are very easy to put on: a simple slide and snap into a hook. Unfortunately, taking the passenger side wiper off required a little more focus and patience then my just-woke-up brain was capable of, so I suffered a cut to my index finger. One of those wounds that isn't really that serious... but bleeds like you ought to call an ambulance fast, before you lose consciousness. I went straight to the bathroom, and realized that I don't have, and haven't had, any bandaids! Huh. Good thing I finally picked up toilet paper at "Wallyworld," last night. (Christmas napkins aren't very absorbent.) Soooo... I covered my throbbing, bloody wound with two squares of Charmin Ultra Strong with Diamond Weave, and secured it with Scotch tape. I realize this isn't as impressive as a soap opera plane crash... when the sexy, chiseled, man seductively tears his shirt off to create a life-saving tournequet for his damsel in distress, but I was pretty proud of my budget-friendly, blood-flow preventing, invention!

It has now been two hours since my injury. The bleeding has stopped, and my primitive, life-saving, impromptu bandage is in the trash. A literal reminder that with a little effort and creativity... I can, and will, survive this, and hopefully find my true path along the way.

Just Another Manic Monday

What a Monday! Most people hate Mondays. I personally have never been one to discriminate... and usually love (or hate) all days equally. But, this Monday has been fantastic!

I felt well rested when I woke up.

I had time for a workout, breakfast and coffee before I left.

I miraculously missed hitting a cute little grey squirrel and didn't get whiplash from the sudden slamming of the brakes.

Two of my ceramics pieces turned out fucking amazing!

My remaining tax documents arrived in the mail.

I got a message about a potential job!

Met my goal of 500 or higher in Scrabble! (Yes, I am fully aware that I am a nerd.)

Two people are already watching an item I have listed on Ebay.

And... I'm not starving to death, freezing to death (although without 3 layers of clothes I would be), dying, or being foreclosed on, and I have some absolutely fabulous friends. (Thanks friends!)

The Great Salsa Incident

Today was probably the most challenging day I have had this year. It started out with the two quit smoking crabby-appletons complaining all the way through the work day. Followed by a phone call to give me a "heads up" that the owner is flipping out about their labor bill and will be on site tomorrow.

Knowing Todd, he presented the situation in a negative light. He's a great guy, but I'm thinking that he loves the drama. Likes to be the hero. And... he's rather co-dependent. He called her... which wasn't necessary, if you ask me. The right way to deal with that, is to let the client see the transformation, and then present the bill. Her entire rental unit has been remodelled. It's already rented. The value of it has been increased; and it looks amazing. Focus on the positives, boys.

Anyway...

I ate a discounted day old bakery honey wheat bagel with whipped cream cheese that had exceeded it's "best by" date for dinner. The bagel wasn't pre-sliced. As I was slicing my bagel I remembered some big stink being made about the number of people who cut their hands while slicing bagels. It wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, but it did require a little patience. So, as I was cutting it, I was trying to determine if the 40% off sticker price was worth the risk of losing a finger, or severing a major artery. For me, the difference of sliced, versus unsliced, did not outweigh the savings. But, if I were a pressed-for-time-soccer-mom-of-four; I'd probably go for the more expensive already-sliced, risk free bagels. When it comes to saving money, you have to consider more than the pricetag. A trip to the emergency room for a bleeding and begrudged bagel-cutter costs a lot more than buying sliced bagels.

After an unexpected nap, perhaps induced by my possibly poisonous cream cheese, I hopped online for a few games of Scrabble. I've been playing against a friend of mine from Chicago who is also hiding from the cold. Our local news said that the temperature in Chicago today was colder than it was in North Pole, Alaska!

Mid-game, we both decided that it was time to grab a snack. I decided on chips and salsa. Seemed a good choice considering I have two Ziploc bags of chips, and salsa is always tasty. I sat down in bed... began crunching on my first chip... and... spilled salsa! Somehow, a small amount of salsa managed to splatter on my floor, bed skirt, new flannel sheets, and over sized down- alternative, doesn't-really-fit-in-my-washing-machine comforter. Shit!

My Scrabble pal allowed me to cease worrying about the turn timer and tend to my great salsa incident. I decided to take the sheets and bed skirt off first, since they were mainly white and I wanted them to stay that way. After sticking the sheets and bed skirt into the washing machine, I tended to the comforter. My washing machine was already occupied with the other linen victims of my bedroom snacking, so I had to rinse off the salsa from my comforter... in the shower! It's also THE coldest night we have had this winter... so I had to not only remake the bed with another set of flannel sheets, I had to dig out another blanket from the back of the linen closet.

Believing my great salsa incident had been handled, I sat back down in my less cozy bed to return to my Scrabble game. As I reached for another chip, I noticed that I had salsa on my sweatshirt too! UGH! Thankfully, my online Scrabble opponent was very patient as I stripped myself of my soiled sweatshirt and reached for a clean one.

What?! I have no more clean sweatshirts! When does my eating-in-bed punishment end?! It's cold as could be and I am down one down comforter, and the shelter of a sweatshirt.

And, again, I'm up past my now non-existent bedtime, in the midst of a salsa-induced laundry marathon. I'll have to find a way to sleep without the extra warmth of my sweatshirt and comforter, as well as without the comfort of knowing the property owner will be seeing the remodel with a positive mindset.

Frigid!

I'm frigid!

I suppose I'm being punished for making fun of the news being, what I felt, overly dramatic about the bone-chilling temperatures Canada has blessed us with. Being a midwesterner my entire life, cold is cold is cold. But DAMN it's cold!

Surely Canada could have sent us universal health care, but instead we are enduring a "blast" of arctic temperatures. Highs will be in single digits, and wind chills will be in negative double digits. Crews are out searching for homeless people and neglected animals in an attempt to prevent fatal suffering.

Almost personally falling victim to the cold, I found myself "locked" out of the rental... outside in a t-shirt and jeans. I had gone next door to leave a note for the tenant. Todd wasn't going to be there today to fix his leak, despite his committing to do so last night, and I wasn't thrilled. When I returned to the back door of the rental I'm working on, I couldn't get the door to open! This wasn't the first time the door had "locked" itself, but it was the first time that it had done so when I could have frozen to death. That door, in my opinion, needs to be replaced. Not only is it ugly and old... it doesn't work properly!

Finding myself angered for the first time this year, I decided I didn't give a shit about what destruction of the door was necessary to save my life. Okay. So now I'm being a little dramatic. But, I was pissed, and my fingers were bright red from the cold. I could push one corner of the bottom storm window in, but wasn't getting it to open far enough to get my finger in close enough to move the handle from the inside. See! That even sounds complicated.

An icy gust of wind blew right through me.

I kicked the window.

I said "damn't!"

The window didn't break.

I was beginning to have second thoughts about destroying the door. This meant I'd have to count on Todd for yet another thing, fixing the door, and his lack of follow through is what had gotten me into this frigid situation in the first place. I had run through the snow to the front door, hoping I had forgotten to lock it. Locked. I ran back and began frantically pulling on the door. My ears were red and hot, my nose dripping... this was getting serious.

My last attempt to turn the handle by pressing the storm window in at the corner finally worked. I might have been freezing on the outside, but I was HOT on the inside. Disgruntled. Pissed. My perfect, puffy cloud and rainbow filled New Year had seen its first moments of "darkness." I packed up and shipped out.

Waiting for me at my front door was a Chicago style pizza, shipped from Chicago. A genuine, authentic, pizza treat, just for me! As soon as I made it inside my own door, I turned on the oven. My minor episode of MADness disappeared in the wake of my pizza pleasure.

Both my kitchen and bathroom faucets sputtered when I turned them on. I've kept the heat at 58 degrees all winter, unless I am having company. Can't freeze your friends! Anyway, in fear of frozen pipes, I "cranked" the heat up to a balmy 62 for the night. I've got wool socks, sweats, a tank top, long sleeve t-shirt, and hooded sweatshirt on and I'm under two throw blankets. I'm fairly warm, but my uncovered skin detects the severity of the cold.

I'm going to put my hood up, and try to catch a 20 minute nap. Then my Tuesday T.V. marathon begins: American Idol, Law and Order, followed by Nip/Tuck. I'm not sure I'll stay awake long enough for all three...

G-Forced into Lazyland

WARNING: Do not come to my house!

A strange and immensely powerful gravitational force has overtaken my house, leaving me perhaps permanently pinned to the sofa. I've managed to break free only to have a grapefruit for breakfast, leftover spaghetti for lunch, and plug in my laptop.

Beautiful, fluffy snowflakes have piled up some two feet, and there are icicles hanging like a valance outside my living room window. I've decided the snow, and this "mystery force" will be my excuses to do nothing today!

Although I did stay home yesterday, I accomplished quite a bit of my own home maintenance. I believe I did five loads of laundry! My house is tidy once again... and the view of it from my couch is breathtaking.

One of my old bosses stopped by last night. He has had to come to town to assist his father and transition him into a nursing home. We shared quite a few laughs about the good ol' days, and he offered a little enthusiasm towards my potential new career.

Speaking of my "potential new career," I'll be back at the remodel tomorrow. I had hoped to start ceramics this week, but the class is currently full. If I were to push the issue, I'm sure the instructor would let me in, and perhaps he will anyway. The class is Monday afternoons from 1:00-3:30, hardly interfering with a productive work week, and providing me with a coveted creative outlet.

As I lay here in Lazyland, I find great comfort in my nothingness; for it is a chosen nothingness. A little rest and relaxation much deserved. I'm currently watching "The Queen" on the USA network, and will be watching Desperate Housewives later on tonight. All I have to "worry" about is staying awake long enough to watch.

Releasing the Ghost

I'm back! Safely returned from a two-day journey into the seclusion of the wintry wilderness. My dad's side of the family (minus Dad, of course), and a few friends rang in the New Year together in a semi-rustic cabin. We "roughed-it" in our long underwear, sleeping bags, sweatshirts, boots, hats and gloves. Most of us skipped out on technology and the fanciness of city life the entire time.

The place we stayed at is located on the grounds of a camp that was established in 1904. My grandmother, who turned 87 during our trip, was the camp nurse for some 30 or more years there. A legend in her own right. She took my brother and I there every August when we were kids, and it always brings back fond memories. Simply hiking the snow-covered trails, and snapping pictures of the birch trees while searching for driftwood, brings me a simplistic joy that I look forward to.

We shared many laughs. Some at the expense of my sauced-up brother, and others at the thought of eating the "poisonous" meatballs that had been left out over night. I got to spend some quality time with my three younger cousins, which was probably my favorite part of the trip. They are smart, talented, and very personable. However, we are so far apart in age, that life circumstances hadn't allowed us to spend much time together. The last night of the trip, two of them joined me in trying to spook the relatives that were inside with an illuminated resuscitation dummy head. (That's the "ghost" in the photo.) We were crawling through the snow, sneaking around corners, and trying not to giggle too loud. Just plain silly fun.

I debated posting a "recap" of 2008... but I decided to just let it be. It wasn't the best year for most of us, and 2009 is likely to be a bit of a challenge as well. I've decided to make the popular choice of hoping for the best and start this year fresh and new. In fact, I haven't made any concrete decisions, or resolutions, for this New Year of ours. I have some vague goals... and that's about it!

My immediate plans for January are to meet with the necessary people at the college to sort out my financial aid and select either "Human Services," or "Paralegal," for my path of study. I'll also likely be enrolling in the ceramics class I had taken previously. My remodelling "client" has asked me to work on a recently vacated apartment, and also assist her in marketing the one I had just finished. So... I have some things to look forward to!

I'm releasing the "ghost" of 2008, and I will not let it haunt me. I may reflect on the strange and funny things that happened, but I'm making a conscious effort not to dwell on the negative, or live in the past. Time continues to move forward, and I'm going to hop on board.

Married With Children

At 10:30 this morning, I went to June and Si's to do their housecleaning. They are the cutest couple! Si is 88, and June is 86. They have been married for 70 years! 70! I'm not even sure I'll live 70 years, and considering I haven't had a relationship that lasted more than 70 days in over two years, I'm not sure I'll ever be married for one year. Hell, not even one minute!

I couldn't help but admire the longevity that was contained within the walls of that house. Their carpeting has not a single stain, or wear pattern, and they have had it for 20 years. The console T.V. June left on from morning til' night, every day, for the last 22 years, just quit working. Family photos, trinkets, and heirlooms... all decades old, yet still in pristine condition. Their marriage... still going strong. They... are still going strong.

As I dusted photos of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, I began to wonder what I was missing. I currently have one photo of a family member displayed in my house: my mother. I have no husband. No kids. And surely no grandkids. Is this one of the secrets to a long and happy life?

Not only do they not make things like they used to, we don't appreciate things the way older generations do. I'll be seeing my own grandmother Wednesday, and I guarantee she will be wearing her light blue ski coat. The same ski coat she has worn every winter since I've been alive!

We toss away things so easily. Tire of them. Never have them long enough to begin appreciating them, because we are always in search of the "bigger," "better" one. This goes for people too! I love watching films from the early years, when a man met his future date's parents at the door, with flowers for the mother, and a nervous handshake for the father. Growing up in a single parent home, this scenario couldn't have happened in my teenage years... but the thought of how differently things would have been fascinates me.

June had asked me if I was married. She asked me that last time, but her memory often fails her. "Oh. I was going to ask if you had kids," she said. June comes from a time where having children without a husband wasn't common, so she didn't consider the fact that I could have been a parent. "I haven't found the right one," I said. "In fact, I'm not even looking anymore." Then June follows with the same sentence every woman over 70 says to me, "Ohhhh you've got plenty of time, dear."

Um. No I don't, June. She must not have a clue as to how old I am, and that's just fine. But I am very aware that my reproductive years are very limited.

I love children, and I definitely have the "what would my kid look like/act like" curiosity that I think most people have, but I have no "ticking clock." In fact, my "clock" isn't even plugged in. As much as I would love to provide my mother with a grandchild, I definitely don't wish to be a single mother, especially not an unemployed one, living on welfare. I'd like to have a few things working in my favor before I procreate. I watched my mother struggle. I felt that struggle. I struggled. I'm holding out hope that I'll be able to have someone there with me... and that it happens before I'm barren, or my mother isn't able to enjoy being a grandmother.

But... I'm unemployed, receiving $14 a month in food assistance, at serious risk of falling permanently behind financially, and not even dating. And the truth is... I'm quite comfortable with the "no-kids" thing. I think that would change if I were to truly fall in love with someone that would stick around long enough to knock me up. I know I would survive being a single mother... I'm just not sure my kid would, and I'm not going to gamble with the psyche of a child willingly.

Breaking news! I might be breaking my night-owl curse! I have managed to remain awake for a solid 21.5 hours... if I can't sleep tonight... for more than four hours... I'm going to start sniffing glue.

Have or Have Not; Happy Thanksgiving!

With all of the stress and uncertainty of the world and economy, it's tempting to lose sight of what Thanksgiving is all about. I'll admit to getting caught up in the fact that I did not have a dutch oven as I was trying to efficiently cook 6 pounds of sweet potatoes. As the sweet potato peels flew about in the sink, and I started my second batch of boiling potatoes, knowing there would be yet a third, I privately pondered why the hell I was doing all of that work. I recalled having a dutch oven when I lived in Kalamazoo. What the hell happened to it? Why did I pick the "pain in the ass" recipe? Why don't I have a great job so I can easily afford a dutch oven? TWO dutch ovens! I had three pounds of carrots to cook as well!

After finally finishing my tedious apple peeling, coring, and dicing for the 6 pounds of peeled, cooked, sliced, and mashed sweet potatoes... I looked around my kitchen. It was a mess! Spices, brown sugar, sauce pans, strainers, apple peels, potato peels, baking dishes, and butter cluttered the counter. As the delicious aroma of my "pain in the ass" potatoes filled the room, I realized how well worth the effort my dutch oven-less cooking was.

Life isn't about what we don't have. Thanksgiving isn't about what we don't have. Life is lived best when we make the most of what we do have. I did have the money to buy the sweet potatoes, apples, and carrots. I did have a large saucepan to cook the multiple batches in. I did have gas service to my stove. I had a stove. A kitchen. A house. A roof. And I have a wonderful family; a family worth every bit of frustration I may have temporarily endured to prepare my offerings for the Thanksgiving table.

Even when we have less than others, we still have more than most. Let us all be grateful for our food, shelter, family, and friends. Those simple things that we often take for granted. Let us all truly listen, laugh and love. And let us keep these "simple" things top of mind, not just today, but everyday. Maybe even think about those around us that do have less. Those who could care less about having a damn dutch oven, and would really appreciate just a sandwich to make it through another day.

I will now give thanks for each of you lovely people. Enjoy a warm and memorable meal with you and yours. Happy Thanksgiving!