Holiday Craziness

Hola Amigos,

It was an interesting Christmas weekend for me. I ended up doing much more volunteering than I ever intended to do. I showed up for my 3 hour adoption center shift at noon on Sunday. Parking stunk, but the adoption center (which is in a mall) was relatively slow, thankfully, because we're on a slower wing (we're essentially all their is in the section we're in). So, it wasn't all that bad. We had the usual number of buttheads who think that regardless of our policies THEY actually know what's best for the animals in our care. Then there are the folks who try and convince us that declawing a cat is the absolute BEST thing you can do for them. We usually have a couple of those a day (do not get me started on declawing, it gets my Irish up). Through a series of conversations I realized that no one was on deck to relieve me at 3:00. My entire plan for the weekend and Christmas started to crumble before my eyes at the thought that I'd have to cover the 3:00 to 6:00 shift. I almost cried. Those 3 hours were precious. So I called my friend Therese, who as it turns out, had forgotten that she was supposed to cover that shift anyway. As luck would have it she hadn't planned anything so she came in. However, the person who was supposed to volunteer with her bagged on us (thanks a million and merry effing Christmas you fricking tool) and it's next to impossible for a person to staff the center alone, so I stayed with her (she's my best friend and she needed me). The nice thing is she took it easy on me, let me leave for a little while to shop and get something to eat, and in general it wasn't a horrible 3 hours. Though honestly I'd rather not spend more of my time with John Q. Public than is absolutely necessary. There's a REASON I got out of retail, people.

Then, I was scheduled to cover gift wrapping at Borders on Monday (Christmas eve) from 2:30 to 5:00 (they supply the paper, we get to keep any tips we get for wrapping, and Christmas eve is usually pretty lucrative). So over the course of 2 days I volunteered for about 9+ hours (all things considered) and I still had to do all my normal Christmas preparations. I have to admit I enjoy the wrapping, though. I like the act of wrapping gifts, and people tend to be so sweet on Christmas eve, honestly. Sweet and generous. And another good thing was that Therese came to volunteer with me (as sort of a return favor for helping her out the day before). I was supposed to be alone that whole time! She was late, but I was glad to have her!

After that I had to high tail it over to my mother's. What a feast we had. My sister in law brought colossal shrimp with her own home made shrimp sauce, and home made baklava. My other sister in law made sushi (that was superb and as pretty as I've ever seen in a restaurant). My sister Stephanie made our Aunt Beulah's jello (I'm not normally a fan but this is SO delicious) and ham spread, mom made turkey spread, we had home made candies and cookies, and it was just so much fun. My nephew was showered with gifts (he's only 4...we can't help ourselves) and I got some really great stuff (including the Simpsons movie and a USB power adaptor for my iPod, which I really needed). It was good to see my brothers and my sisters in law too, just a fun time. Then yesterday my mom and sis and I went to see Sweeney Todd (it was great). Our normal tradition is to then go to our favorite Indian restaurant, but we had SO much food left over that we decided to eat at my mom's. And we played cards.

It was a very busy holiday, but fun.

Hey, by the way, what kind of credit card makes their due dates on Christmas??? I had 2 credit cards due on Christmas day. WTF?

staff photo

Oh lordy, we had a staff photo taken today. There were several people out, or not in yet and a couple folks who just didn't want their picture taken but most of us succumbed to that good old fashioned guilt trip and went to the reference area, oh, sorry, the "research and outreach area" and stood for the photo. I dread seeing it.

Someone made a large copy of the last one and it's been in our staff lounge for 3 years. Strangely, it's never been defaced... You'd think someone would have drawn a mustache on somebody or blacked out a few teeth. But no, there it sits in all its seriousness.

I was going to try and bow out of this one (I detest having my picture taken, plus I'm still resentful of the staff photo we had taken 3 years ago; I mean come ON, 2 staff photos in 3 years??? I could handle every 10 years, even every 5...) but when the voice came over the loudspeaker that we were to meet for the photo I just felt obligated to go.

The funny thing about the last one is that you can tell by the look on my face that I'm PISSED. Or anyone who knows me can. Sure, I'm smiling, but it's a very sarcastic, crooked, WTF are you looking at? kind of smile. Makes me laugh whenever I see it. And there were several other people who had the exact same smile (nobody I know wanted their pic taken!).

I did have fun with it though, and was able to do some photoshop type stuff. So then we had Barry Manilow, and Rod Stewart in the front row, and scattered throughout were Arnold Schwarzenegger, George w. bush, mick jagger, brian wilson, others. I'll try very hard to outdo myself.

I have no idea how this one will turn out. I don't think I'll look surly like last time, which is sort of too bad. At least I'm wearing a different shirt.

This thing in Jersey...

Personally I'm glad that New Jersey abolished the death penalty. I'm also glad that I live in a state where it's been outlawed.

I oppose the death penalty. Believe me, there's guilt involved in that, when I think of some of the horrific crimes that have been committed. So it's not always easy for me to admit that's how I feel.

There are many reasons. Here are a few. It's been proven it doesn't work as a deterrent. It's unfairly meted out (the per capita numbers of death penalty sentences handed to white-on-white crime, black-on-black crime, white-on-black crime and black-on-white are disparate, which should not be). People with more money are less likely to be sentenced to death because they can afford better counsel. Innocent people can be put to death (this month alone there were 2 death sentences dropped because the people were proven innocent). I do not like the idea of government sanctioned executions and it costs the taxpayers lots and lots of money.

I do understand and sympathize with the plight of people who are left in the wake of a violent crime. My beliefs do not mean I don't think justice should be served. But there is just too much wrong with the death penalty for me to think that it's right.

I had a friend once who told me "You'd feel differently if you had children." ?? I've thought about that and thought about that, and I've never been able to make sense of it. So, because I haven't been a parent I'm seeing things wrong? So, does everyone with children think the death penalty is a good thing? Is my capacity to love, to forgive, to feel, challenged by the fact that I'm not a mother? I have to tell you, that really hurt.

Maybe if I lost someone to a violent crime I'd feel differently. I can't even imagine the pain of the victims' families. I know that there are cruel, heartless people out in the world and there are plenty of people that the world would be a better place without. But I don't think it's my place or my state's place to decide when and how they should leave this earth. The system needs fixing, folks, that's a huge part of the problem. Maybe if someone could tell me with a clear conscience that no one on death row is innocent, maybe I'd have more confidence. When our government is deciding whether a person lives or dies, there is no margin of error.

What I do know for sure is that 2 people in our nation were going to be executed, EXECUTED, this month alone for crimes they didn't commit. I wonder how many others among the 3,000+ (not quite sure of that number) inmates on death row are innocent?

In case you're wondering, I'm also pro-choice. Sometimes people wonder that. That may be a dichotomy, but somehow I feel it's a few ticks less hypocritical than folks who are pro-death penalty and anti-choice. I can 'splain that in a subsequent post. For now just call me crazy.

I figure, this is a blog, and I haven't really written anything contentious before, so this is my stab at it.

Hola Amigos,

I must admit that I'm sort of into Christmas this year. I've decorated at home, I've done almost all my shopping, I've sent Christmas cards, I'm listening to Christmas music (on MY terms thank you very much). Yep, I'm excited about Christmas!

I heard on the radio the other day some interviews with people sharing their traumatic ways of learning that Santa wasn't real. It made me think, and I realized that I don't have a recollection of ever thinking that Santa was real. Just snippets here and there, but in my life Santa never was. See, I'm the youngest of 5, so I had 4 older siblings to spoil the surprise for me. Plus I was blessed with brutally honest parents. So when my brothers and sister began to mock me about Santa I asked my dad if there really was a Santa Claus (I must have been 4 or 5). He simply told me the truth. See, that's just how my dad was. He didn't do it to be mean or spoil anything. He did what he always did. His kid asked him a question and he told her the truth. And me, being the kind of kid I was, I just integrated that fact into my psyche and all was OK. I think he probably did the right thing. I would have found out eventually. And maybe I would have been disappointed at being strung along. Who knows. All I know is he said I handled it like a trooper.

Seriously, I still got the presents, you know??

I did come up with a killer gift for my hairdresser. My sister and I always go in together and get something for him, and if I do say so myself it's usually something FABULOUS. He has impeccable taste, you see. I spend more time picking out something for him than I do for some of my family members. But I've known him for over 20 years, we're dear friends, and it's a way of saying thank you for a year's worth of stunning haircuts. So this year we're going with a bottle of absinthe! I couldn't be more excited! Such a romantic drink with such an interesting past. And the fact that it's only recently become legal adds to the allure. I can hardly wait! And I'm quite proud of myself because I thought of it. :) And it fits. David is a Francophile, he'd be all over this what with it's French influences.

Not that I'd ever drink the stuff myself. No way. It's anise flavored. Blech.

My nephew is the one I still need to buy for, and I sort of planned it that way. He's 4. How much fun is it to shop for a 4 year old!!!! I can hardly wait! He's such a good little kid, so sweet, I'd forgotten how much fun it is to have a little one around for Christmas! I haven't even begun to put together what I'm getting him, but I'm a very doting Auntie. I'd give him whatever he wants, I'm such a sucker. At Thanksgiving I asked him what he wanted. He puzzled for a minute and said "I don't know. Maybe clothes?" Which I'm actually MORE excited about because I love buying kids clothes!

So this week we are having our department Christmas party Wednesday and the library Christmas party Thursday and I'm supposed to bring something for both. That's a bit tiresome, frankly, but I'll do it because I said I would. Oh, and the University party party (do we see a pattern here of increasingly important parties?) is Friday, plus the annual after-university party at my friend John's house.

Then there's the party at my sister's house that I wasn't invited to. No, that's not a joke. She really didn't invite me. So that one doesn't really count. But it's still out there. It's going to be a busy, crazy week.

But I'm in the spirit, you know? Somehow it's all OK.

Just hang up and pee

Hola Amigos,

This post has been brewing for a while, but something finally made me snap my cap. I work at a university, and probably like every university these days, every student has a cell phone that they use CONSTANTLY. You'll see them between classes calling their friends. "Whatcha doing? I just got out of class. Now I'm going to lunch. Where are you?" It's as if the 5 minute walk from classroom to dorm room (and not many of our dorms are much further away than that) is so unbearable that they have to call their little friends to pass the time.

Anyway, I needed to use the restroom and the staff one was occupado so I used the public one. I was finished and in the process of washing my hands (I was in the handicapped stall so I had my own sink) when I heard someone enter, talking. No big deal. Then I realized she was talking ON THE PHONE. In a restroom. And was her conversation anything earth shattering or important that would warrant actually taking a phone with you when you had to answer the call of nature? No, of course not. It boiled down to "That test was hard but I studied" etc. Then she proceeded to go into the stall and USE THE TOILET while talking on the phone. I made a swift exit, thankful that I'd finished my business before she came in there.

I've heard this happens, cell phone conversations in public restrooms while on the toilet, but I've never actually been witness to it, and I must say I'm disgusted. If any of my three readers have done this, please know that I disapprove. I won't pass judgment, and don't take it personally of course, but I think it's pretty gross. And Miss Manners had a few choice words about it herself not long ago, so I'm not alone.

I use public restrooms because I have to, but I never actually liked the idea of someone else having to hear my bodily functions. But it's a necessary evil, isn't it. But now they've brought their friends with them? And how unsanitary is this that you drop your pants and do your business with a phone in your hand? And being at home is one thing, but...in public? Can't I pee in peace when I'm at work?

I'm no prude, but I can probably remember each instance where I've used the bathroom while on the phone and ALL of them occurred at home, I assure you. And probably 99% of those instances were when I was talking to my sister, and she's my sister for pete's sake, we burp and fart around each other regularly. But talking to someone one the phone while crapping just seems rude to the person you're talking to, frankly.

Why couldn't she just shut up for 5 minutes and pee? It's just like the inane conversations I'm subjected to if I'm unlucky enough to be stuck outside when classes change. Conversations between 2 students after class may actually be stimulating, interesting. But calling a friend just to flap your gums and kill time is torturous!

I never dreamed I'd reach the age where I'd say "When I was going here..." but you know, you have to understand, I went to school here and got a job here within months of graduating. It's in my blood. I love this place. But something (or many things?) has happened in the recent past, maybe 5 years, that make me tired.

Just let me say i:. When I was going here and you got out of class, you went to your other class. Or you went home. Or you went to a bar (this was back when the drinking age was 18 and my alma mater had the most bars per capita of any university in the states, and that's a documented fact, not hyperbole). Or you got something to eat. Whatever. And if you were alone you were alone, so what.

Just come here some time when classes are changing and you'll see (and hear) what I'm talking about. In the end I'm not surprised that someone talks on the phone while peeing really, I'm just annoyed.

Directly after I left the restroom I ran into a coworker and mentioned it to him and he told me that the same thing happens in the men's room, but that what's worse is people eating there.

Eating???

LOVE this song

I love Fugazi (in case you haven't figured that out). I put my iPod on shuffle today and Margin Walker came on first (my iPod knows me very well) and it's almost impossible for me to sit still while it plays. There's a youtube clip to the right of them performing this song (what a great find! Never thought to search them there but there are clips all over the place; the quality on this one is really good, and you get to see plenty of my man Guy, the guy in the orange shirt singing). This is such a talented band, and their live shows are (were, sadly...) amazing.

I miss you guys!!!

Fugazi "Margin Walker"

You make yourself so beautiful,
You make yourself so, so beautiful
And now i feel like i'm gonna,
I'm gonna set myself on fire.

I'm gonna set myself up at a window,
This margin walker wants a clear view,
This margin walker wants a clear shot,
and now i'm shooting it right on you.

Untraceable, untranslatable,
I can't explain all i ever wanted to do
Trajectory passing right through me
Threads my needle send it right through you.

You make yourself so visible,
You make yourself so, so visible,
And now i feel like i'm in the tread of
some bastard jealousy.

Up here, above the avenue, up here, where
the things you do,
They lend me a problem with the language,
split my seams and then they drop in a fuse.

Untraceable, untranslatable,
I can't explain all i ever wanted to do
Trajectory passing right through me
Threads my needle send it right through you.

Bad to Better

Hola Amigos,

I was in a foul mood this morning. The worst. First off we got more snow, and the shovelling frankly isn't getting done the way I'd hoped. So there's that. Then I remembered that I was supposed to bring a dessert type thing to work, meaning that I'd have to go to the store beforehand because I forgot to bake. Then both of my birdfeeders were empty (I sort of obsess over that...I love feeding the birds). Then when I was getting birdseed I found the two 'giving tree' presents that I'd bought. Both were not wrapped, and both were due in today. My house is a mess, I had trouble finding anything to wear (I know the people are work with are getting so tired of my handful of outfits), and my knee hurts really bad.

Once I got in and hunkered down at my desk things started looking better. Funny how your mood can change like that.

I don't mean to dwell on it, but this leg thing is really starting to get to me. I really, really hope the doc (who I'm seeing today at 3:20) can give me some answers. I mean, I'm travelling to New York City in just over a month. NYC is not the place to be if you've got a gimpy leg (and you want to actually go somewhere without a cab). How am I supposed to navigate the subways? This has to be better by then, I'll be so sad if it isn't.

Maybe I'll try some swimming at the gym. I haven't been to the gym in weeks, it just hurts too much. And normally I sort of suffer in silence (except where this blog is concerned) but since I'm limping (and there's just no other way for me to walk) everyone notices, and asks, and then I have to tell them.

It's starting to make me feel weird and out of sorts. I'd be lying if I said the pain hasn't affected my mood, because it most certainly has. It's hard to concentrate when you've got pain you can't get away from.

Anyway, I'll stop complaining, I'm just frustrated. I'll be more frustrated if the visit with the doc doesn't go well, but that'll have to wait until another post.

I hope to God he doesn't tell me to do physical therapy. I HATE physical therapy. I had several rounds of therapy after I broke my leg. It was not fun at all. It didn't help that I had a complete a-hole as a therapist. He was unpleasant, and not in a rude, gruff way. Outwardly he was pleasant to people, but he was pompous and silly and spent most of his time talking with the other therapists in the room. I never once got the impression that he cared about me or my case at all. Very annoying. Plus they had a communal radio and he went on and on about how he hated national and local public radio and it was a waste of his tax dollars. First off, he wasn't even saying it to me (he rarely conversed with me) and secondly, what kind of jack off thing is that to say?

Yeah, I hated the guy. Actually, if I had a therapist like him now I'd switch. Back then I wasn't quite as vocal as I am now.

Well, this isn't the best post I've done, is it. I'm mostly just looking forward to going home and kicking back with my 4 legged gang. I'm out.

I'm over it.

Hola Amigos,

Yeah, I'm over it. I can't describe quite how I feel right now, but I'm over my little thing from this morning.

It's embarrassment, really, that's all. I'm not mad, I'm just mortified. You see, I generally try and draw as little attention to myself as possible. If I could go unnoticed (especially while at work) I'm totally alright with that. So this just sort of crapped all over my day, you see. So anyway, so you know, I'm still embarrassed but I'm over it.

I'm actually off tomorrow, thankfully. See, if given my druthers, I'd have just left this morning and come back tomorrow (sans perfume) and pretended like today never happened. I'm really good at that. I find that many things are better treated that way. Like the one time (and I mean it was only one time) my friend John and I argued. It was a bad argument, and we both said things we regretted, and we were both wrong. So after a bit of cooling down, we just picked up where we left off with our normal lives. Nothing was said per se, but we both knew the score. I think we both knew that this wasn't important enough to discuss anymore, so we just let it go. And that was probably a good 18 years ago. I don't even remember what it was about.

That's how I operate. I let things go. Not after obsessing about them for a while of course, as is my nature; but then they're gone and they don't cloud my future. So when I come into work next it's not like I'll be thinking about it. I'm thinking about it because I'm here, that's all.

So, anyway, I'm fine. I washed off the perfume (thankfully we have enough privacy in some of our bathrooms for me to disrobe enough to do that), so all that remains is what's in the shirt I'm wearing and that's not so bad. My coworker has reentered the room and all seems normal.

Now I'm tired though. I want to go home.

Noooo, I'm not embarrassed at all!

Hola amigos,

I just had someone complain about my perfume. To me and then to my boss. So, yeah, I'd like to crawl into a hole and die right about now.

I'm NOT a big perfume person. I don't wear it often, but when I do it's the good stuff. The one I'm wearing right now is Hermes, that's about $70/bottle; my sister gave it to me for Christmas a couple years ago. I've worn it before. The person who complained has complimented me on it before.

I realized she has a sensitivity to the cologne one of our coworkers wears (it's horrible aftershave), but didn't think that applied across the board. Obviously it did, but she didn't mention it at the time (her words). So now here I am like a schmuck sitting and stinking, and she's gone into another room to work for the day.

I offered to go home and wash it off, especially since I live VERY close and we have a department meeting today at we'll all be sitting near each other, but she said she didn't think that was necessary.

I don't fault her, I'm not mad at her, I'm not even saying that I didn't wear too much perfume, maybe I did (and I put on some body lotion too), but it could have been prevented, I never would have worn it at all, if she had just told me in the first place.

I can be very emotional sometimes and cry easily, at some things. I'm just embarrassed is all. Honestly, I'm not mad at her or anything, she's just being honest, and I have to give her credit because a lot of people wouldn't say anyting at all, which is probably worse! But it's embarrassing. And I just really wish she'd been clear about it the first time because I never would have worn it today.

So, there's my embarrassment for the day. I try SO hard not to bother people, I really do. I try. I didn't mean this to happen. I NEVER would have worn it, ever, if I'd thought it would cause any trouble. And I'm sure to her it seems that I've glossed over her issues (i.e., ignored what she'd told me about my other coworker's cologne). I know her quite well, I have no doubt that's what she's thinking. But that was NOT my intention.

How would you like to know you were responsible for driving someone from a room? It's not fun, I guarantee. And to think I only wear perfume like once or twice a month. Yargh. And now all I can think about is that I can smell it myself...and what are other people thinking? And have I done this before? And if you knew the other people in the room, you'd realize why I'm mortified...God, don't even get me started on the other people in the room. That's a whole other level of hell.

Can I just crawl into a hole and die now?

Actually, I'm just going to slink into the bathroom and wash now. Then crawl into a hole.

He Wha????

Would someone PLEASE explain to me how and why Don Imus is back on the air??? Who is listening to this?

I had an MRI this morning. It's rather loud so they gave me the option of listening to the radio via headphones. The technician said "You can listen to anything on the dial from 93.3 on up." So I said, "Oh, that's OK, I never listen beyond 91.7." So she said "What about smooth jazz? That's the most popular."

I'm sure the look on my face was precious. A cross between horror and contempt. Smooth jazz my ass. Smooth crap is more like it. Yeah, I'm a snob when it comes to jazz. I like my jazz nice and dirty. So I told her that I'd rather not listen to that. Then she suggested Christmas music. I'm sure the look on my face was equally precious. A cross between horror, contempt and hatred.

See, I listen to 3 radio stations: 88.9 WYMS (independent), 89.7 WUWM (National Public Radio) and 91.7 WMSE (independent station run out of Milwaukee School of Engineering). I hate "drive time" radio. I hate hearing DJs blather on and laugh hysterically at their own stupid jokes. I hate listening to people calling in. HATE it.

I won't lie, I shuffle up and down the dial occasionally if I get bored in the car, especially since the controls are right there on the steering wheel. But see, the classic rock stations eventually play the same stuff over and over. I've heard it all. I heard it before it was classic. I like some R & B but not much. I can't stand pop. And everything is just loaded with commercials. So in the car I either listen to my top 3 stations or I plug in my iPod.

I'm not being uppity about it either. I don't have a superiority complex or anything regarding radio. But seriously, I would have lost my mind if I'd listened to smooth jazz or Christmas music.

Thankfully the signal from WUWM was nice and strong so I got to listen to that. It didn't matter to me that it was the part of the news I'd already heard at home. It made me much more comfortable. I was happy.

But that doesn't answer my original question, which is, WTF is Don Imus doing with another job????? Who, WHO is listening to him???

My Top 25

Just for kicks I figured I'd clue you all in as to what my iPod says are my "Top 25 Most Played Songs." I don't personally know that I've listened to these all that much, but my iPod is a smart little bugger and I'm sure it's right, so I'll defer to its calculations.

The weird thing is that there are songs here that I honestly don't remember listening to that much. I like Gold Digger, it's a great song. But there are other Kanye songs I've listened to MUCH more than that ('Kanye's Workout Plan' anyone?). The same can be said for Bones of an Idol. Love it, but there are other NP songs I've played ad nauseum and they're not on here. How does my little iPod figure this out? Or am I forgetting to tell it something? No idea. Anyway.

Here goes:

1. "Silence Kit" Pavement
2. "Sieve Fisted Find" Fugazi
3. "Slo-Crostic" Fugazi
4. "Mojo Pin" Jeff Buckley
5. "Grace" Jeff Buckley
6. "Elevate Me Later" Pavement
7. "Phantasies" Stephen Malkmus
8. "Vague Space" Stephen Malkmus
9. "I Will Dare" The Replacements
10. "Buena" Morphine
11. "Jo Jo's Jacket" Stephen Malkmus
12. "Bones of an Idol" New Pornographers
13. "Troubbble (sic)" Stephen Malkmus
14. "Use It" New Pornographers
15. "Wake Up Mr. West" Kanye West
16. "Gold Digger" Kanye West
17. "Heard 'em Say" Kanye West
18. "Eternal Life" Jeff Buckley
19. "Pueblo" Pavement
20. "Honey" Morphine
21. "Spit on a Stranger" Pavement
22. "Waiting Room" Fugazi
23. "Margin Walker" Fugazi
24. "Suggestion" Fugazi
25. "Public Witness Program" Fugazi.

So...I like Fugazi. You got a problem with that?

Permanently Deleted!

Hola Amigos,

I'm here and alive. Not much to report, other than I went to the doctor yesterday because my knee's been hurting like a bugger and he thinks I tore a tendon. So much for working out at the gym. I haven't gone for about a month (because it hurts) thinking that the pain would go away. Well, it didn't. And when I started limping I knew I had to do something. The doc (who is about 10 years my junior and absolutely to die for gorgeous) isn't 100% sure that's what it is, so I'm going for an MRI on Monday. It's definitely not arthritis. Actually, my joints looked great and I'm eternally grateful (in spite of my ample size, and I'm BIG, my health is remarkably good...though I do know I'm living on borrowed time and if I don't lose weight it will catch up with me).

I did do something meaningful yesterday. I essentially severed the last tie I had with J. I already took him out of all my address books (virtual and otherwise), I deleted all his emails and voicemails, I got rid of all the pictures. None of this was done in a crazy way or anything. I wasn't super angry and destroyed stuff. I just thought that having those things around would be trouble.

But there was one thing I couldn't do, not right away.

We met online about 8 years ago. IM and all that was in its infancy and I was just getting acquainted with the whole world of interactive cybery stuff. J and I met playing Yahoo backgammon. Shortly after we hit it off we each added each other to our messenger "friends" list. I won't bother to explain it because odds are anyone reading this knows what that is. So every morning for the past 8 years, when I'd log in at my work or home computer, Messenger would turn on and I could see whether he was online or not. We usually corresponded that way daily, throughout the day. Sometimes all day, sometimes just hello, sometimes just enough for him to tell me he was too busy to talk.

Well, I left him on my messenger. He was really the only person I spoke to with any regularity (other than a woman at work who moved and now she's in an entirely different time zone). I was so accustomed to seeing his name, his little smily face, and knowing he was there, and that all I (or he) had to do was send a little message. Sometimes we'd end up calling each other, sometimes we'd share photos or music. Sometimes we'd chat very seriously, other times it would be completely off the cuff. My favorite thing was if I had a financial question. That's his forte, and he loved talking about it, and I loved seeing him become passionate about it (what can I say, there's something unbelievably sexy about a person with a brain). Cyber or not, it was our connection.

I couldn't bring myself to change it. I couldn't remove him. 2 months now I've logged on every day and saw him. Naiively I thought maybe he'd message me to see how I was or something. He never did. He did at first, when he thought everything was ok, but when I stopped messaging him, he stopped messaging me.

I realize that I was the one keeping things going, and left to his devices, well, I'd disappear. But I STILL couldn't bring myself to delete him. It was the last piece of him I had.

So I sent a message to my friend Therese (she's logical, she's smart, and like me she's 42 and single) asking her, as a friend, to tell me why I need to delete him. And Therese did what she always does, which is answer me perfectly. It was EXACTLY what I needed to hear, and I was reminded what a dear good friend I have in her. The most telling thing she said was "No good can come of this" and I realized how right she was. What possible good is this doing me? I don't want to talk to him, and I don't want him back in my life. Yes, I miss him terribly, and I'm still very disappointed I won't get to see him in January. But does looking at his virtual presence online help? No, of course not. So I read Therese's email and immediately brought up messenger and deleted him from the list. It even asked me "are you sure?" and I paused and then did the inevitable, the move that could not be undone, the permanent deletion.

My friend Tracey at work (God I'm lucky to have such sage people in my life) said that maybe this was the thing that keeps me from what I really want. She didn't mean that I've been searching or sad, more that she was saying "things can't move forward until you do this." She also said that November is a time of ending. And I realize that's true too. At least for me (and her).

So anyway, Jeff (that's his name) is as gone as can be. I can't envision seeing or speaking with him ever again, and that's OK. It's the way it has to be. Of course there is a tiny part of me that hopes he's unhappy. I hope he looks at what he's done and who he's chosen to be with and realize what he's lost. I'm living a fool's paradise, I know. I don't think it's a man's nature (especially his) to do that. And from what he's told me about his past relationships and break ups, he doesn't have a clue that he ever did anything that caused them to happen. I'm not saying it's all his fault, but relationships don't occur in a vacuum. He's culpable to some extent.

Selfish of me to wish that.

You know, I can foresee him contacting me. If he does end up fathering a child with this woman (I still can't get over how weird it all is) I can see him telling me. I can actually see him doing that. If he does, this blog will be the first to know. I can see him thinking I'd be happy for him, for them. Yes, new life can be a wonderful thing. But that I couldn't handle. However it would be completely in character for him, and bless his heart, he would never understand how that would devastate me.

I won't get preemptively angry with him. It's easy to do that. I mean, he hasn't done it and chances are he won't. But it is possible. And if he does I'll deal with it then.

So it's as over as over can be. I never thought it would happen like this. But as my shrink said (yeah, I told him all about it) "After 8 years I'd say the relationship is about where it's going to be." I love my shrink. He's about 5'2" and cute as a bug's ear.

That reminds me, I'm going to write a post about my crushes one of these days, past and current. Some are pretty darned good.

My Latest Show

No, it's not a show I'm putting on, it's a show I've gotten into recently.

From the outside it would appear that I have incredibly juvenile taste in television shows. I'll be the first to admit I watch some weird stuff.

Let me give you some backstory. I'm a HUGE Space Ghost: Coast to Coast fan (and a Brak Show fan). So, that kind of got me started into the whole 15 minute cheap and funny cartoon programs. Oh, I love Beavis and Butthead too, so I guess maybe they started it. So as the years have gone by many other shows have been added to the genre, including Aqua Teen Hunger Force (LOVE that show), Squidbillies, South Park (to an extent), Family Guy. It turns out that I'm a big fan of silly, juvenile cartoon programs written by young (ish) men.

So lately I've been watching Metalocalypse. I'm not a metal fan, much. Every now and then I have a hankering for Metallica, or Guns n Roses or something, but it's not a regular indulgence. But this show is about a metal band, not so much the music. The name of the band is Deth Klok (which kills me). It is SO stupid and funny, surreal, bizarre. I like it so much I've dvr'd all upcoming episodes. So now I dvr ATHF, Squidbillies, Beavis and Butthead, and Metalocalypse. I know for a fact I don't in any way match their demographic. Statistically these shows attract a male crowd between 18 and 34. So what's a 42 year old woman doing watching???

Can't explain it, all I know is it's funny as hell. Like yesterday's episode; they hire a therapist to help them work through some issues. His name is Twinkletits. And let me explain to you, it's pronounced on the show as Twink-LET-its. See, that, to me, is hilarious. And one of the guys is named Murderface. And the lead singer is named Nathan Explosion. And that's not his stage name, that's his name.

This is sort of a pointless post. I just wanted to share my latest venture into television-land. No Two and a Half Men for me thanks. I've got tons of these 15 minute gems waiting for me. Not much investment and lots of laughs.

Born again from the rhythm, screaming down from heaven...ageless, ageless

Several years ago a friend at work loaned me a CD she thought I might like. It was "Grace" by Jeff Buckley. I took it home and listened to it. The next day I brought it back to her and proclaimed "He sings like a woman." Sandy replied "He does NOT sing like a woman!" And that was the end of my listening to Jeff Buckley.

So I thought.

A couple years after that I was listening to World Cafe one evening, just reading, not really paying attention to the radio. Then someone started playing a song. I was transfixed by what I heard. As it turns out, David Dye was playing a tape of a show where Jeff Buckley was a guest. I couldn't believe that I'd spurned him so quickly. I was mad at myself, because the music, the song he was playing, was extraordinary. And it was just him and a couple band mates playing in the studio for David Dye. The song Jeff performed was "Grace."

I immediately went and bought "Grace" the album the next day, and it's been a regular of mine for years and years. It was one of the first things I loaded onto my iPod. It's incredible. His voice is not of this world.

Jeff Buckley is dead. He was dead when I first heard "Grace." I never knew of him when he was living, and I regret that so much, to have missed the opportunity to see him play somewhere, or interviewed, or even play on SNL or something. I regret I didn't appreciate his music while he was actually making it. And I still feel a little foolish for turning my back on him the first time I heard him. What was I thinking? It's almost as if the album I heard that first time wasn't even the same album I heard later. Weird.

Jeff Buckley drowned in 1997 at the age of 30. It's horrible. Thinking about it makes me cry. Seeing his picture makes me cry. He was a beautiful person with the voice of an angel. A beautiful face, a beautiful mind, a beautiful voice. So tragic.

I like to think I do some little justice to his memory by telling people about him. To date I have converted 2 people from not even knowing of him to being official Jeff junkies. One is my friend Tracey, who is so open to new music that I know no matter what I give her she'll give it a try. She and I were talking and I had the cd here with me, and I asked her if she knew him. She didn't, so I started to tell her the story, and I actually got choked up. I wasn't bawling, but it was obvious I was fighting some tears when I told her about him. A few minutes into listening to it at her desk, she came over and told me "I can tell this is something special."The other convert is a former student of mine, who was probably only 8 or 9 when Jeff died. No idea he existed. She felt the same way, came in a day or 2 later and showed me her iPod with Grace downloaded onto it. Both of them hear exactly what I hear in Jeff. He was so special, a once in a lifetime artist. I can't say enough how much his music means to me.

Jeff would be 41 on Saturday. I didn't even realize that but I had been thinking of him (that kind of stuff happens to me--just enters my mind out of nowhere) and put Grace on in the car last night. And then this morning I did my usual web search to see what's up in the world of Jeff and found that his birthday is near.

Jeff didn't leave much more than Grace. He wasn't around long enough. Actually it's his only full length studio recording. If it were an album I'd have worn it down. I can't usually go more than a month or two without listening to Grace. If you don't like it, don't tell me, because I won't understand. I never judge anyone for liking or not liking something, but his stuff affects me so deeply that it's hard to think everyone doesn't feel the same way.

Happy Birthday Jeff.

Gettin' the apartment done...

I had no idea it had been a week since my last post. Nothing much has changed. I haven't picked up my eating habits much or at all in the last week. Alas I'm weak...it's so hard for me to get back into habits that I know are good for me.

I've been feeling pangs of loneliness regarding me and J. It's been about a month since I ended things with him and it's beginning to sink in, I guess. We'd go occasionally for periods of time w/o much correspondence, usually when he was in Europe doing business/family stuff. But we've never, as long as I've known him, gone anywhere near this long without something said between us.

Not that this is why I'm having trouble with my eating, of course, but it does sort of take the spring out of my step.

Does he miss me? Does he ever think of me? Something tells me that he doesn't. I'd like to think he does, but I'm not so naive to think it would ever happen. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a clue why I'm no longer seeing him (although I made it as clear as I could), and he's probably just as happy alone day by day as he ever was. Such is life.

Don't worry, I'm not crying in my beer over him either. But I do notice his absence, sometime acutely. And that's where we differ, I think.

What else...I've been busy coordinating all the work that needs to be done on my rental unit. On Friday the bedroom carpet was removed, and the hardwood sanded or buffed or whatever it is they do. For some reason it's the only room in the place that's hardwood. It looks great though. Better than my room with the mauve carpet does. Then yesterday I had to run home at lunch to let the hardroom guys back in to put a coat of finish on. And I stayed there to let them back in 2 hours later to put the second coat of finish on. Then I drove back to work.

Today I thankfully get a reprieve from contractors. Unfortunately, it starts all over again tomorrow. At 8:00 they're coming to rip out the carpet in the kitchen (yes, the people who built the place carpeted the damn kitchen...in dark brown no less) and the vinyl in the bathroom, and replace it with all new vinyl. So, I'll need to be there to let them in. Then Wednesday they'll be there to rip out the carpet in the living room and lay new stuff down.

But that's not all. Then I have to have the appliances (which I haven't bought yet) delivered, and I have to have the new fixtures (which I also haven't bought yet) put into the bathroom.

See, I thought I'd have November and December to do all this junk. But I was able to find a tenant who wanted in ASAP so now I'm coordinating all this crap in order to have the place completely habitable by November 19 (when he sells his house---he's getting a divorce). He's actually already living there. Or squatting, actually, just a sleeping bag. But it was either there or he'd have to live in the house with his ex and he just isn't up for that. So, he signed a lease starting Nov. 1 and has been slowly moving things in.

Can you believe this? I've been stressed out since I met the guy. No fault of his own, but to plan contractors in such a short amount of time, and pay all that money at once as oppposed to spreading it out over a couple months...well...it's stressing me.

I can't stand hiring contractors. I have a membership to Angie's List which has helped tremendously. I normally take my time and get at least 3 estimates, compare what I see, and go with whom I like. But this time out I had to get these people on the schedule pronto, so I got a recommendation from my friend Therese, checked them on Angie's List, went to the showroom and picked out stuff that evening and got them on my calendar the next day. This has been a real problem with my job too, I'm changing my schedule, taking unplanned vacation days...it's just been one thing after another.

And because of my time restraints I'm being somewhat half assed about some of it. Take the hardwood for example. When they first got there the guy removing carpet wasn't finished yet, so they said they'd have to reschedule (WHA?). I said no way, so they came by 2 hours later (even though the carpet puller outer was done like 20 minutes later), and that was 2 hours that I had to sit at home (not worth going back to work then). Then when they get there for the second time they point out this stain on the wood (that probably came from some illness on the part of my former tenant...frankly I don't really want to know). Then they started asking if I wanted to have it fixed and how that would mean they'd have to reschedule the sanding for another day, etc. And I thought, if this were my place, sure I'd spiff it up and I wouldn't care about the extra time. But I just couldn't. So I had them finish the floor with just buffing the stain out as best they could (which wasn't very good). I mean, of COURSE I wanted it fixed, but my time restraints are such that I couldn't get it fixed.

And the appliances? I plan on picking up the first thing I see that fits my budget.

Then there's all the residual crap my tenant left behind that St. Vincent's is coming to pick up but in the meantime is taking up 1/2 my garage and a 1/3 of the basement.

Sorry, babbling...it's just that I can't even begin to express, no matter how hard I try, just how annoying, how stressful, how all-consuming getting this apartment finished is.

Theoretically, everything should be done by Thursday afternoon. If it is, I'm going to smoke the biggest bong you've ever seen.

Kidding of course, I'm not a weed smoker these days. But if I was, jeez...

Back to Basics

Today I decided to get my act together regarding my eating habits.

I fell into my old familiar pattern. I know how to eat well and I do eat well, all things considered. However, I've also got a very tenuous grasp on my food 'sobriety' (forgive me if there are any 12 steppers out there, but overeaters anonymous left some indelible marks on my vocabulary) and it doesn't take much to send me careening off into unhealthy eating habits. Actually, I'm not even sure what started my downfall this time. Splitting up with J? Maybe...I did (and do) feel mighty sorry for myself about that one. And I was being extra careful about my eating because I knew (or thought) we'd be getting together in a few short months, so when that motivator was taken away I figured I'd go for it and eat all the crap I'd been forgoing.

It's so EASY to eat wrong. It's everywhere. I'd have an easier time if I could just stop eating all together, honestly. But I can't do that. I have to eat to live, and that means that it all comes down to me and the choices that I make, and I'm a weak person.

I'm not weak in everything. Actually I think in many things I'm quite strong. I used to smoke, and I quit. I come from a family with addictions in the bloodline, and I've managed to steer clear of addictions to booze and drugs. I've admitted I needed help in the mental health area. It's like I have other things under control, but my damned eating is just...

Why does food have to taste so good?

At least I haven't fallen too far down the slippery slope. I'd say I lost it about 2 1/2 weeks ago, so there's hope for me. And I've started today right, and I'll just keep going.

Another reason I need to eat better is because it costs a lot of money to eat junk/conveniently, and I can't afford it these days. I've got an entire apartment to refloor. No kidding. The entire place needs everything torn out and new stuff put in. I'm not even going to tell you how much it is costing me. Thank goodness I had a cushion in case I lost my tenant, AND thank goodness that I can write this off on my taxes. I'd be hurtin' for certain if I couldn't.

My new tenant is actually partially residing in my rental unit, he's sort of squatting I guess. It all happened SO fast. I haven't even known him a week. He's getting a divorce and needed a place right away. My next door neighbor knows him and referred him to me. The cool thing is that for a consideration in his rent he'll be doing all the yardwork and snow throwing, etc. So like yesterday, I left the house to pick up my sister for dinner (it's her birthday) and there's Andy raking. I nearly cried. Yardwork and I are not friends.

So, now it's a matter of arranging all the painting and flooring and new appliances and bathroom fixtures with Andy's and my schedule. Seriously, I had planned on leaving the place vacant until January, to give myself time to get everything accomplished. That would have meant 2 months w/o rental income, but I figured I could swing it. Now I need to cram all the work in a few short weeks. Truthfully I don't mind. Sort of like pulling off a band aid, it's just better to do it fast.

My house is a little weird. It's not very well insulated between the apartments, so you can kind of hear a lot of what's going on in certain areas (kitchen and bedroom mostly). I didn't worry much with my former tenant because she was hard of hearing. But this is a young guy (late 20s?). I'm wondering how much it would cost me to have insulation blown between our walls. I mean, if Pat's (my former tenant) phone would ring in the kitchen, I could hear it in my house. She had a conversation in the bedroom once and I could hear her. Not every word, but I knew she was talking to someone. Thankfully having a geriatric next door meant that I wasn't stuck listening to nookie on a regular basis. And the fact that she was hard of hearing hopefully made the reverse the same for her (though she did make a few thinly veiled comments, especially when I was seeing a particularly lusty fireman...).

To that end, I've had a minor development in my love life. I have been in touch with someone who has been on the sidelines for me for a while. We've known each other for years. He was a person I knew, but sort of put on hold because of J (foolish me). I took a chance and contacted him last week. I did that for various reasons, and I'm not ashamed to admit that one of them was to boost my confidence after losing J.

The nice thing about A is that he's HERE, in town. Not far from me at all, actually, and he's funny and smart...and now I'm feeling foolish for putting him on a back burner while I cultivated a relationship that spanned thousands of miles and was going nowhere. A knows my whole story, which is good. He wasn't waiting for me or anything. I just had a "I wonder what he's up to?" moment. And it turns out that he was wondering the very same thing about me. So, who knows. We don't have any immediate plans to get together (we both have a lot on our plates, him because of his job and me because of all this apartment work) but we're talking about getting together before the month is up. In case you can't tell, I am a very, very patient woman (remember, J and I were back and forth for 8 long years). And A and I, neither of us are in a hurry.

Anyway, I just got finished with my apple (the last part of my lunch) so I'd better get back to work. Things are definitely moving and shifting in my life, and frankly, it feels pretty good.

Up Too Late!

I dvr'd a movie the other night from the Sundance channel, it was called Mysterious Skin. I watched it yesterday when I got home from work. It was pretty interesting, well acted. There was an actor in it who for some reason reminded me of Heath Ledger. Well, then I started thinking about Heath Ledger, so I thought I'd watch Brokeback Mountain. It's incredibly sad, but so good, and I was really jonesing to see old Heath up there (hey, you're never too old for a little Hollywood crush). Then when that was over I figured I'd watch a little bit of my new dvd of Rushmore. So I put that in the dvd player and started it up. Well, it's almost impossible (for me, at least) to watch a little of Rushmore. I sat there and watched the entire thing.

So, I've been a complete zombie today. I stayed up WAY later than I should have. Couldn't help it. It's Rushmore, man!!

So I've just been a slug. I had a meeting this morning and have essentially been phoning it in since I got back from there. I'm looking forward to the clocks being set back this weekend, because then I'll be tired at 10:30, as opposed to 11:30, and I'll be less inclined to stay up until 12:30 (seeing as it will then be 11:30). I wonder if that's been my problem this whole time...

I haven't heard from J in several days. I wasn't contacting him myself, but he contacted me a few times, of course treating everything as normal, as if nothing transpired those few weeks ago. I wasn't rude but I wasn't my usual self either. So, now it's been several days and I'm hoping he just leaves me alone. Every day that passes I'm more resolved to just forget him.

These next few weeks are going to be surreal. I have to buy a new fridge and oven,
replace the floor in the bathroom and kitchen, get new carpet in the living room, get rid of the carpet in the bedroom and finish the hardwood underneath, buy
and install a new bathroom sink and vanity, change the locks and paint (not in that order). And, the person who wants to rent my place (I don't think I mentioned it, but I do have a prospective renter) wants to get in by November 19. That's an assload of stuff to do in a very short amount of time and I'm trying my darnedest to get everything on the calendar.

And you can't even say I procrastinated. The place was rented up until yesterday, so there wasn't a darned thing I could do but wait until everything was moved out. At least my new tenant wants to do the painting himself so that's a relief.

Not much to report really, just tired from my own personal movie marathon and anxious about getting things done on time. Wish me luck!

Twice in one day!?

I just had to write about my weekend.

My tenant's estate sale was Thursday, Friday and Saturday. I was at work Thursday and Friday, so I never really knew what went down during the sale. So Saturday I get up, make coffee, and I'm lounging around until I have to leave to pick up my mother from the airport (after her semiannual and always too short in my opinion trip to visit my aunts and uncle in Texas). I was in my bedroom on the computer, it's about 8:30, and for some reason the dogs go crazy! They're running around and barking. Then I hear voices. Then I realize these voices are IN MY HOUSE. I had taken the dogs for a walk first thing and didn't lock up when I came back in, and here are 3 old ladies standing in my kitchen. "We're here for the estate sale." They just walked in. Didn't ring the bell, nothing. So I explain that this is a duplex and the estate sale is on the west side of the house. So off they go. I chained my door and went back in my room. Well, no more than 10 minutes later, somehow some OTHER people are standing in my kitchen. I mustn't have latched the door right or something. So then I locked the deadbolt, but only after putting a note on my door telling people where to go. And by where to go I mean to the west, not to hell, which is where I would have LIKED to tell them to go.

My tenant, bless her, lived in the apartment for 17 years. There were boxes upon boxes of things in the basement. Things that had been sitting down there for 17 years never opened, and some of which were boxed up when she moved into the place BEFORE mine...so we're talking close to 30 years old, packed with newspapers from 1979. Her house was a shambles, messy, loaded with junk. She had a milk crate full of pens. Piles and piles of paperback books. Little trinkets and baubles and wall hangings and macrame and doilies and potpourri...it made my head spin.

Don't think I'm a bad landlady, for I can honestly tell you I had no idea she had so much junk in there. I never had any reason to go into her place for the longest time, really. Nothing needed fixing and she'd invite me over now and then, and while everything seemed a bit messy it wasn't out of the ordinary, and I never had a reason to go in her bedroom so I missed all that was in there.

Saturday after the sale the women organizing it were busy clearing out all the stuff that didn't sell.

The way my house is set up, we have a shared front entrance and we each have our own side entrance, I'm east, the unit is west. The driveway for my duplex is on the east, just outside my side door. On the west, outside my tenant's door, is the driveway for the house next door. Throughout the sale the coordinators had been using my neighbor's driveway frequently, sometimes with and sometimes without my neighbor's permission. She's a wonderful woman and was very accomodating.

But, Saturday night was the kicker. It was my neighborhood's trick or treat, a HUGE deal, people really go all out. Plus there are tons of kids in the area. Lots of folks throw parties and have open houses. It's generally a blast. People come from all over so there are always lots of cars parked and general mayhem. The neighbor to the west was throwing a party along with her tenant. It was busy and fun.

But in all this, these estate sale ladies were still hauling stuff to their truck, using my neighbor's driveway as a sidewalk. So my neighbor's son in law pulls into the driveway, and the estate sale lady says "You'll have to move your truck, we need to get stuff down the driveway."

I'm handing out candy and listening to this transpire and I couldn't believe my ears. They were actually asking my neighbor to move cars off her own driveway! When she's having a party! On trick or treat night! And they wouldn't let up!! Eventually the guilt got to her and she had her son in law move his truck, not without a few choice words at least.

I was appalled. It was one of those surreal moments that makes me think "Is there ever a situation where I would act that way?" How could someone possibly be so ballsy!? Why couldn't it wait? Isn't it obvious that this is madness?????

I talked with my neighbor about it yesterday. See I was handing out candy and I heard everything. I told her that I actually felt like apologizing, I was so mortified. Thing is, this has nothing to do with me; I am not involved in the estate sale at all. I'm just counting the days until they get everything the hell out of there.

Seriously, I was just mortified by it all.

When my grandma passed away at 97, her affairs were perfectly in order. She wasn't into "stuff." She had family pictures, and she loved saving greeting cards from her grandkids. But she left very little for us to do. No estate sale necessary, just simple things that meant something to us. That's what I want to happen with me. I'm not saying my tenant did anything wrong...if having stuff made her feel comfortable, then fine. But seeing what I've seen and knowing what I know, the last thing I want is more stuff. I don't NEED stuff. They kept telling me "Go over there, take whatever you want" and I never did. I've got all I need. A car that runs and that I like. A computer. A stereo. A television. Enough furniture. Clothes. Pictures up and some wall hangings that mean something to me. And the only thing in boxes I have downstairs are Christmas and Halloween decorations.

I plan on keeping it that way.

If I were any slower I'd be going backwards...

I've done terribly with my eating and working out the last couple of weeks. I'm still going to the gym, but not nearly often enough. And eating, well...Nothing but junk for days. I'm sure that I've reverted to my pre-work out, pre-eating well state. Just goes to show you how easy it is to completely lose control (for me at least).

I'd say I was faltering a little before the whole 'J finding a woman to bear his children' thing. But that pushed me into a different realm. I'm not saying it's responsible currently, but it was a catalyst getting me here. I think most people would agree that sort of thing happens. One thing too many goes wrong and BAM, you're right back where you started. Like the one thing that drives a person to drink after years of sobriety.

Of course, I'm also a person of free will and I can't say that my situation with J is the cause of anything right now (other than depression). I'm the cause of my own situation, and I seriously need to snap out of it.

I don't know what it is though, I mean, yesterday I was absolutely comatose. I got up and had coffee with my Sunday coffee friends, and went to clean the adoption center, but then when I got home...nothing. I watched Columbo (one of my all time favorite episodes, with Jack Cassidy as the magician). Then I took a nap. Then I watched more television and spent a lot of time trying to motivate myself to clean my house (which is a mess right now). What is wrong with me?

I honestly do think part of it is depression. I've dealt with clinical depression since my early 20s, probably earlier but I didn't know that's what it was. Not to worry, I receive consistent help for my depression, but I think there are just some things that are part of the illness that you can't shake. Like before I got help, I'd lay around all day and feel badly and cry and all that. Now I lay around but I don't feel bad and I don't cry. I just don't feel like doing anything.

I'm a born procrastinator, so I can put off housework and whatnot until the 11th hour. So that's in there too.

And I think a huge part of it is that I just have a slow...metabolism? I don't know if that's the right word. I can describe it like this. My mother has and still continues to work her ass off her whole life. My memories of her as a child are her legs. That's mostly what I'd see because the woman never sat down. And my dad could work. If something needed to get done, it got done, no matter what.

But me, I can sit still for hours on end. Seriously. I can sit and just listen to music. I can sit and watch the wind blow through the trees. I can sit and read. I have a very still center.

That's looking at it on the bright side. Looking at it otherwise, well, I'm lazy. I'd be the first to admit I'm lazy. I haven't raked a single leaf this year. Know my reasoning? I have 2 maples that drop their leaves some time after new year's (I exaggerate) and I don't feel like raking more than I have to.

My alarm goes off before 6:00 am, but I don't get out of bed until after 7:00. I feel magnetically drawn to my bed. I have friends whose alarms go off and they are up and at 'em. No snooze, no nothing. How do they do that???

I'm not lazy in everything I do. And if I'm asked to do something by others, I will work so hard to do it. And I do put in a good day's work at my job. But left to my own devices in my own home? The things that need doing around the house and in my own personal life? Not quite the same story.

How could I possibly be my parents' child? How did I turn out so completely opposite from them? Or is it that I give things having to do with myself low priority, because no one else is depending on me? Is that a manifestation of low self esteem (I'm not important enough to keep my own life in order)? My mother often wonders how I can consistently clean the adoption center but not my own house (of course, my mother thinks my house is a mess whether it is or not; I had her over once when I thought my house looked beter than presentable, it looked actually quite nice, and her words to me were "Leslie, how can you live like this!?" I'm not sure what offended her so deeply; my mother is a very infrequent visitor to my home).

You'd think my years of therapy would have answered some of these things but alas, obviously, they haven't.

But I wonder, where did that energy that my parents and grandparents had go? It's like it crapped out by the time it reached me and my siblings (we are all, to a greater or lesser degree, the same way).

Well, that's what I've been thinking about. Probably my top priority right now is to get my ass in gear as far as what I'm putting into my body. So today is the last day I'll be having capuccinos from the gas station and crullers from Sentry. Shame on me.

I'm Glad I Didn't Choose a Watch

Hola Amigos,

And another work week draws to a close. I am ashamed of myself, I've been really half assed about stuff and my employer deserves better from me.

I really do work at a nice place, for as large as it is it has a family feel about it. It's not for profit and academic too, so I can educate myself while stickin' it to the man. It doesn't pay much, but you couldn't find a place with better benefits. And honestly, I like my job. It's a very odd, strange little job that nobody probably ever thinks of, but I know that doing what I do in some small way helps someone in their education, or in their teaching, and I am very proud of that. I'm not a proud person, but I am proud of that.

They had a luncheon for everyone celebrating a milestone anniversary (5th, 10th, 15th, and so on) on Tuesday. Having recently celebrated my 20th, I was invited to this particular luncheon. We received a catalog of gifts that we could choose from about 4 weeks ago. There was some great stuff in there, and after much fretting over what to get, I decided on the 48 piece china set (not sure if it's actually china, but it's nice).

See, having never been married at a youngish age, I never registered for anything like china and whatnot, and I couldn't see investing in it myself. I'm single and I live in a tiny house, it's just not practical. So throughout my years of being a bachelorette I've relied on some Corelle and a couple of plates I got at the dollar store.

Every week I would stare enviously at the flyers in the Sunday paper, at these lovely dish sets with serving platters and bowls, gravy boats, etc., and think "My stuff looks like crap, how I'd love to replace it." Well, now I can!

They handed the gifts out at the luncheon, actually calling each person up individually (and there were a lot of us there--about 16 tables worth of people), which I think is a very kind gesture. I was informed via email that my gift was too heavy and fragile for the luncheon (understandable) and that I could work it out with our HR office to get it to my car.

Thing is, the person I need to arrange it with is out until Monday. So I STILL haven't gotten my gift! I was really looking forward to it. I plan on pulling EVERYTHING out of my cupboards and finally trying to make sense of it all (I hardly have any cupboards, essentially two, so I've divided them into things you can eat, and things you can eat off or out of). I may still do that, but I'll have to wait to receive my first official set of china. At age 42, I'd say I deserved it. My mom said "Now you need to get a hutch" and I thought, where will I put that, my bedroom?? So this nice china will have to sit in a cupboard, but at least now if I have people over for dinner I can serve them all on matching plates!

They had all the gifts (except mine) set out on a table and you could look them over before we sat down. I would say that the most prevalent thing I saw there were watches. Everybody chose a damn watch! That strikes me as funny, for you see, I'm not a watch wearer. I've never been a watch wearer. I have them, and have worn them, but never made a habit of it, and I can't even tell you the last time I put one on.

I think it all started with a watch my parents gave me, my first one. At the time I didn't know this, but I'm highly allergic to nickel. So after wearing this watch for a while I developed a horrible itch. Over the years I was given watches here and there, some quite nice, but they all made me itch (the band if it was metal, or the clasp, or the back of the face). Then Swatches became all the rage, and I bought several of those because being plastic they didn't make me itch. I really went crazy when I worked at a department store and could by them with a 25% discount! Hoowee! I had a swatch for every occasion.

But I stopped wearing those too. And now I've gone so long without a watch that I don't even miss them. I never wear them, never really seem to need them. Everywhere I need to go either has a clock, or I have my phone with me, or there's a clock in my car, or I just ask someone. Another handy one is if I buy something the time is always stamped on the receipt, so I can check that too.

I've also got an uncanny ability to estimate time. I'm not perfect, but am usually so close that I may as well be wearing a watch. Hang out with me some time, I'll display my time telling talents. :)

Anyway, I'm quite happy with my decision NOT to get a watch. I did have a minor pang of regret when I saw the peridot ring that was on the table. I saw it in the catalog and I thought long and hard about getting it. It's my birthstone. For years I despised it. Even though I like green, I was drawn to the flashier, deeper green of the emerald. Peridot just looked washed out to me. But it's grown on me. Then when I turned 40 I decided I was going to splurge and get myself something strictly to mark that milestone, something just for me. I have absolutely no jewelry of any value (seeing as most except for the nickel free cheapo stuff at Kohl's makes me break out in horrible itchy blisters), so I decided I was going to buy myself a ring. I went to Marshall Field's and looked at all the peridot in their fine jewelry department. I fell in love with a beautiful peridot ring with a gold band, set in small diamonds (VERY small diamonds). I have to tell you, it's gorgeous, and I rarely take it off. And no, I'm NOT going to tell you how much I spent on it. But I do really love it.

I thought about the peridot ring in the catalog for quite a while. And when I saw it on the table at the luncheon I sort of regretted not ordering it. But then I looked at my own peridot ring and realized that's enough.

So now I anxiously await my set of china, with my most sincere thanks to my employer.

What Does Owen Watch?

Hola Amigos,

I'd been feeling so badly these last few days that I wanted a pick me up (that wasn't food). I've been pretty tight with my money lately seeing as the income from my rental property is gone until I rent the place out again, but I decided I was going to treat myself. I ordered the Criterion Collection Edition of Rushmore last week.

I even paid for one of the fancier shipping options so it would arrive sooner. I hurried home and went to get my mail, and alas, no video. So, my viewing will have to wait until tomorrow (oh PLEASE let it arrive tomorrow!).

You see, Rushmore is one of those movies that renews my faith in mankind. When I watch it I think "I'm lucky to live in a world where people can make something as delightful, as wonderful as this film." I feel that way about the Simpsons, the Marx Brothers, the better Seinfeld episodes, Aqua Teen Hunger Force. The list goes on. But occasionally I need to remind myself.

I don't want to seem so dramatic when I say this, but things like that make life worth living. There are plenty of other things that make life worth living, don't get me wrong. But when I'm feeling poorly, or depressed, and not wanting to do much of anything, how superb it is to have a movie like Rushmore around to pop in the DVD player.

I was thinking about this on the way home today. Owen Wilson co-wrote Rushmore with Wes Anderson. He also attempted suicide a few months ago...and that makes me so sad. I guess even the person who can write something so delightful is not necessarily free of demons.

I could never say I know what he went through, because I don't, but I just wish I could let him now how his work has touched me deeply. Maybe it wouldn't matter to him, who knows. There are so many people who are fans of that movie...and I'm sure he knows that...

Oh, I don't know where this is going really, but I did wonder to myself, does Owen Wilson have something for himself the way I have Rushmore? Is there something he finds so sublime that it gives him hope? I hope so. He's far too talented to lose. Honestly, with all the worthless people out there in show biz, why should we have to worry about losing someone like him???

I will avoid making a bad joke about celebrities I wouldn't mind losing...

Owen, I hope you stick around for a long, long time.

I'm Not Happy

So a month ago tomorrow I wrote a post about my guy. Unbelievably, as optimistic as I was then, I am just as disappointed today.

I'm not worried that he'll read this. In all the years I've known him, he's never actually retained any information like that, websites, birthdays, phone numbers. I don't take it personally, actually it never really bothered me. Everyone is equally forgettable in his eyes, it wasn't just me. But it does give me some freedom because I don't have to worry that he'll ever see it.

It is, in a word, over. Plain and simple. We've called it quits before but in that half-hearted way where you know you don't really mean it. This time is fundamentally different, I can feel it.

I'm not sure how much of this I am willing to write about. And I probably wouldn't write it at all, except that I took a chance and committed my relationship with him in this blog, and I feel I need to finish it off too. Can't pretend it didn't happen, you know?

Some of this is pretty embarrassing to me. Some of it is so weird that I'd spend copious amounts of time just explaining and it's not worth it.

So, let's see...how do I state it in the simplest terms possible. OK, how's this. J met someone whom he feels he has a better chance of having a child with than me. No I'm not joking. And don't go thinking I don't want children. I've always wanted children. It just hasn't been in the cards, which honestly breaks my heart. But it's the hand I've been dealt and I live with it.

He said in essence it boiled down to "She was there, you weren't" (you meaning me). This person (and trust me, I have no ill will toward her at all; I'm sure she doesn't even know I exist) doesn't live any closer to him than I do, but they were at the same conference recently, and knew each other through a network. Anyway, I guess she's good enough breeding stock for him to make the effort to see her.

This sounds so crass. I'm not a crass person. I'm just so disappointed. It's like someone pulled a rug out from under me. And I know much, much worse things could happen to me. But this is what's happening right now, and it makes me feel awful.

I'll be honest (shoot, I'm always honest) and tell you that it isn't as simple as I relayed up there, but that's as simple as I can put it. So essentially he told me (in as many words) that we're not getting together in January, that he's going to pursue having a child with this person and that's that.

I'm sure that this was cooking for a while. This whole scenario didn't happen overnight. But as of a month ago we were planning our time in NYC. As of a month ago I was his 'amour,' his girl, his girlfriend. And he decided that it wasn't working, so he is going to pursue this relationship, and here I am left holding the bag, and it feels pretty crappy let me tell you.

You know, we were going to use that time in NYC to figure things out, to see where we wanted to go, to see if we could make the big commitment to each other. I mean, it would be big. But we were both so compatible, we just loved being together, and truthfully, we'd even talked about having a family (great scott, I never even told my mother about that part), it wasn't scary, it was just a matter of doing it, or not.

I shared with him that I was fully aware January would be a make or break thing, a shit or get off the pot kind of thing. He knew it. I knew it. But it had to be done.

But, alas, he branched off on his own. I'm not even saying he doesn't have every right to do whatever the hell he wants to, of course he does. But it makes me feel so...bad. Worthless. I am not even worth waiting 2 months for.

So, I'm not happy. And just like a month ago I wrote my first post about my guy, here I am writing my last. Ostensibly my last. I probably have lots of venom to spew about this, but I'm too busy wallowing in self-pity right now to vent.

So now what do I do? Unlike J I haven't lined anyone else up. You know, he told me he didn't love her. He didn't say that to make me feel better either. He said that because it's true. I think he just figured she's young enough and she wants kids too so he'd give it a try. His biological clock must be ticking significantly louder than mine.

Isn't this bizarre? What kind of story is this?

I was very calm yesterday. I was calm until he told me that he was flying to see her in a couple weeks. That was like a slap in the face. He always had plenty of reasons why we couldn't get together, but I think in the end it boiled down to what he was willing to do for me, and that just wasn't very much. So when I expressed to him my anger, when I told him "OK, now I'm pissed" he actually said "Why?" Why?? I actually had to tell him, I had to remind him of all the times he's put me off for one reason or another. I think it's because he always knew I'd be around; I'm very faithful, consistent, and he knew he could get away with shit just because I'd let him.

So as I was saying goodbye he told me he'd talk to me tomorrow. I stopped. I said "I can't do that." Somehow, he thought I'd still be there. How am I supposed to stay with him? What? What is he thinking? That somehow this is all going to be OK? Does he actually think I want to be a part of his life now? I'm not even saying I wish him ill, because I don't. If this is what he wants, fine. But I don't want my nose rubbed in it.

And he didn't understand that. Fundamentally, deep down, this makes me feel better. Because I don't think I could be with a man who is so utterly clueless as to my feelings. It'll take me a while to realize that, because right now it's all about me feeling bad. I'll get to feeling better later.

Lost weekend, and lost Monday and Tuesday

Yeah, I had a couple binges in the last few days. No purges because I never got that whole purging thing down right. I tried it once and ended up salivating a lot.

I ate way too much between Friday and yesterday. I consumed a dozen donuts, a huge bag of popcorn, some pecan rolls, 2 pints of dove ice cream, a breakfast at IHOP, turkey dinner at my sister-in-law's, a couple (OK, 3) candy bars...that may have been it. I had some fruit and cereal in there too, and probably one balanced meal.

Writing it down actually makes me pretty ashamed of myself. What was I thinking?

Another bad thing is that I didn't go to the gym at all this weekend. I went Thursday, but Friday I went out with friends after work. Saturday I had a meeting in the morning, then drove to Green Bay to pick up a dog. Sunday I went out for breakfast, then cleaned the adoption center, staffed it until 3:00, then went for dinner at my brother's place. I don't go to the gym on Mondays because it's SO crowded it makes me uncomfortable. The last time I went on a Monday I got my locker key, put my stuff away, grabbed a towel, went to get on a treadmill, saw all the people, noticed there were no treadmills available, turned around, went to my locker, got my stuff, turned in my key and went home.

Then came yesterday. Yesterday not good.

I took the day off, ostensibly to do all the crap around the house that I didn't get to because this weekend was too busy. It was a wasted day. I made a list of everything I needed to do, then proceeded to procrastinate and not do 90% of it. What is wrong with me???

Now I'm here at work (don't worry, I get legitimate breaks and such, and this blog is relatively squeaky clean) and am ready to roll. But I can't stop thinking about my behavior these last few days and be totally ashamed of myself.

I get a strange feeling sometimes, it's almost a physical feeling, when I'm not motivated. Like yesterday, I kept telling myself to get moving and working, and I didn't. But the thing is, it's not like I'm like that all the time. Sometimes I work my ass off, am completely motivated and get plenty done. What is that all about? Biorhythms? The moon? PMS? Why is my energy level/interest/motivation so inconsistent? What caused me to eat all those terrible things over the course of 4 or 5 days? Why didn't I make time to get to the gym??

I found I do this a lot when I journal, too, ask questions with no conceivable answer. What's that all about?

There is something good though after all this. I can feel, inside, that I don't want to feel the way I did these last few days. I know this feeling. It's a change that I get when I make my mind up about something. Like when I decide I'm going to try and lose weight, or the decision I made about joining the gym.

For example, I know in my heart when it's right for me to try losing weight. It's as if a switch gets turned on. It's just that drastic. One day I'm eating completely unhealthy, and boom, I make the decision to not do it anymore (I've made that decision many, many times...I'm looking forward to the time it sticks).

Or the gym. The time to join the gym was the day I joined the gym. Not a day before or a day after. It was THAT DAY. Again, like a switch was turned on. No matter how hard anyone may have tried, there was no way I was joining the gym even a day earlier, because I wasn't ready. Maybe this is like addicted people hitting rock bottom? You know, you can't get them to change until they decide to change...

This is a weird post. I think because what I'm writing about are weird things. Binging is weird. Compulsive overeating is weird. Self-sabotage is weird.

I feel better having written, actually. :) Maybe that's some residual 12 step influence, admitting to yourself and another person (or persons, depending one who is reading this blog, and if you've gotten this far, bless you) the nature of your wrongs.

I will try not to write such a self centered post the next time around. This just happened to be where my head is at today.

The best thing is that tonight I'm going to see The New Pornographers! Should be an awesome show!! Once again I'm looking forward to hanging out at the Pabst, having a hot cup of Alterra coffee and grooving to some awesome tunes. I'm feeling so much better already!

Adios Amigos,

L

I may have met my match

I love documentaries, and I've been known to sit through some pretty rough stuff. The closest I came to walking out of a movie was when I went to see "Crumb." R. Crumb can be so utterly tasteless and horrible. But I stayed and I watched it all, and it is, in fact, a very good movie. In spite of everything, the guy is an artist, he had a really crappy life and this fuels his work, and I'm all for free speech and artistic expression.

However, I may have met my match in Deliver Us From Evil. It's the story of a priest who continually molested children (male and female) and (as I found out yesterday) abused their parents sexually for 30 years, while the Catholic church shuttled him from parish to parish.

I actually stopped watching and I'm not sure I can go back. I was so disgusted, saddened, angered, and absolutely sickened.

This movie hit close to home for many reasons. I'll tell you now, I was never molested by a priest. However, the child victims interviewed were all right around my age, one in particular was just a few months younger than I, and the pictures they'd show of these kids looked exactly like pictures of myself that had been taken around that time. First communions, etc. I remember so well the reverence I had for the church and how the priests ran the show.

Over the years I've lost interest. I haven't lost my faith, but I felt mass was just so much bull shit. That trend started long ago. I went to 3 different grade schools, finally settling at one from 4th grade to 8th. I had some good times, but really, overall, it stunk. The people at my school and parish weren't very nice or good.

Here's an example of something that took place at my grade school that pretty much sums up all the horrible crap, the discrimination, the favoritism that ran rampant until the day I left. When I was in 6th grade we had 2 home rooms. The home room that wasn't mine (thank God) had a series of contests that the kids voted on, best at playing baseball, best in math, etc. It's a bad idea, but it gets worse. The teacher set all this up, and she actually had her students vote for "prettiest girl in class." There is so much wrong there I don't even know where to begin. But that's the atmosphere in which I was educated, by people who were supposedly following in the Lord's image, you know, do unto others, you are all equal in my eyes, etc.

Around that age things started to go downhill for me, and they only got worse as kids started growing up, hitting puberty, dating, etc. Probably one of the happiest days of my life was the last day of grade school because I knew I'd never have to face that environment anymore. Of course I told my parents how much I hated it there, but alas, this was my parish school, and according to the church, I HAD to go there.

As the years passed I went to church because I lived at home and my parents expected it of me. As soon as I moved out in college I stopped going. I've gone back here and there over the years, but not really as an active participant, more just waiting for it to be over. Sad, isn't it...

The things this priest did, this Father Oliver O'Grady, are beyond horrible. His youngest rape victim was 9 months old. And where is he being interviewed? From his home in Ireland. The people he lives near don't know anything about his past in the states. And the footage they show of the church officials saying such things as "If I had found at that time that he molested boys I would have done differently" (as it was he was raping a 5 year old girl) is just so hard to listen to. This is the atmosphere in which I was raised and educated. It is real and it was happening, it was just the way the church dealt with things. How am I supposed to look at my Catholic upbringing knowing that? I know that was years ago, but the cover ups and the lies of the men in power were still being said only 2 or 3 years ago. The man who is now pope was involved at the higher levels of these scandals and chose to do nothing. And this is the leader of today's Catholic church?

Anyway, I'm probably going to turn the movie on again this evening, but whether I finish or not is an entirely different question. And that will be a first for me, to turn a film off not because it's bad, but because I can't take it. This priest was a man of God, he was supposed to heed a higher calling than the rest of us. He was revered and loved. And he used that power and position to shatter the lives of children. It's just so sad.

I'll report back whether I make it through or not. Maybe if there was some payoff at the end, if they somehow had proof that this guy would suffer for an eternity. But then I'd be watching a movie, not a documentary.

Happy Birthday Big Brother

Christopher Quade
October 12, 1956 - October 10, 1994

Today is my brother Chris' birthday. He would be 51 years old. I used to joke around about how he'd never see his 40th birthday, just because he was such a wild child. I never thought I'd be right.

Chris had always been the smartest of the Quade kids. He sailed through school, he was athletic, he was so handsome. He had jet black hair, the kind that's so black it's almost blue. Beautiful grey eyes. He remains one of the funniest people I've ever known. So smart, and quick. But from college on he was a drinker and drug user, and over the years he became an alcoholic and drug addict.

The thing with Chris is that he was so stubborn, and so incredibly hot-tempered that he'd never ask for help, and God forbid if you offered him any. I don't know if there's anything I could have said or done that would have kept him clean. Of course you wonder that a lot after they're gone. I know my folks had it the worst, since they raised him. They couldn't help but agonize over what went wrong. But as a friend, whose sister died much the same way as Chris, told me, he got to a place where we couldn't help him. It's not his fault. It's the nature of addiction. I know I'm a recovering food addict, my oldest brother is recovering alcoholic and drug addict. But Chris, he just kept going. It's so unbelievably sad for me to think about. This beautiful person's life was simply snuffed out one day. He was just gone. And I'll never see him again.

And he was so loved. Everyone loved him. His wake was overflowing with friends, old teachers, people whom I hadn't seen since I was a little girl in our old neighborhood came to pay their respects. Of course there were also his drug pals (people who bought from him, people who partied with him) who were in the lower level of the funeral home doing lines of coke and God only knows what else. I wonder how many of them are dead by now? I know of 2, Perry and Mike...guys I'd known since Chris was in high school. Perry died from drugs, Mike drank himself to death. Who else?

The day it happened was like any other day. I was living in Shorewood. I didn't have a car, so I'd taken the bus in to work. As I came in my coworker Sue said, "Your dad called, he wants you to call him at home." I wasn't particularly alarmed. My dad worked at Marquette too, and his office was directly behind the building I was in, so we'd see each other and whatnot. And I talked with my parents often enough that hearing from them at work wasn't particularly odd. So I get to the phone and call home, and my dad answers. I say "What's up?" He says "Is there someone there with you?" I said "Sure, most of the folks are here." Then he said "I've got terrible news." My heart sank. Thankfully he didn't wait long to tell me "Your brother Christopher has died." All I could say was "How?" and he said he didn't know. Then I just started sobbing. I worked in a big open room and I'd known everyone for years, they were all friends, and they crowded around me. I don't know what I would have done without them. Then Sue got her coat, went to her car and picked me up to take me to my parents' house. I was in another world. The next few days were some of the worst in my life.

I learned a lot though, over those few days. I'd lost people before, but they had fit in the vast scheme of things; grandparents mostly. But to lose someone so young, so quickly...I learned how grief works. I learned how kind people can be during a loss. I learned that some people can't handle it and will avoid you (and that's OK, I know how hard it is...but it made me less afraid to talk to people in the same situation, and not to pretend it didn't happen). I learned just how much my parents loved him. I learned my dad could cry like a child. I learned the ins and outs of planning a funeral, and all the funeral etiquette that goes with it. I learned just how many people out there knew and loved my brother.

How it happened was, he'd been celebrating his birthday (early, obviously...he loved his birthday) the night he died. He took something, I actually don't remember what...a speedball maybe? As the party went on, he laid down and died. That was that. And what happened then is, all his friends who were there left. That's what druggies do. They knew (or thought) if they stayed they'd be arrested because of all the drugs and paraphernelia. Maybe that's true, I don't know. They did make a call to the police almost immediately, anonymously. But they left him there. That might be the saddest thing of all.

I know this post is a bummer, but I've never really written any of this down, any of what happened then. I remember it like it happened yesterday. Every time his birthday rolls around I relive it, to a greater or lesser extent. I find the whole experience a testament of the kind of things we can endure. Life keeps moving.

I still miss him. He's not there to celebrate holidays anymore, or to call me on my birthday and sing to me over the phone. The last such call was on my 29th birthday, he and his friend Kuzi called me at about 2:30 am and sang a drunken version of Shiloh, with my name inserted where Shiloh should be..."Leslie, when I was young..." I laughed my ass off.

So, I miss you brother, I really do. How I wish things were different. How I wish you had gone a different route. How I wish you could have cured whatever demons plagued you. My favorite time was when Chris moved back home after a car accident. I was in high school, about 15 or 16. He knew he could get me to do anything for him. He'd just give me this sideways glance and say "Leslie? Please?" He'd call me in the room to change the channels for him, get him some soda, whatever. And I loved it. I loved him. I still love him.

:) As they say, "I'll mourn ya till I join ya."

Busy, busy, busy...

Hola Amigos,

Spoon was great. Next week it's New Pornographers, and then I'm show-less for a while, at least until March. I'm sure that someone I want to see will be here between now and Pink Martini on St. Pat's day.

I've got a busy weekend planned. On Saturday I'm getting trained for dog walking at MADACC and getting my hair cut. Then Sunday it's coffee with friends, cleaning and staffing the adoption center (usually comes out to about 6 hours total) and whatever else I can cram in when I'm done there (meaning cleaning, laundry, etc.). I should be cloned.

Don't get me wrong, there are many, many things I just love about my swinging single lifestyle. But sometimes I'd just like to be able to have a back up. Not someone to do everything, but someone to do some things. Raking. Lawnmowing. Snow shoveling. Buy groceries. Fix things. Pay bills. These are all things I'm fully capable of doing (to a better or worse extent). But sometimes I get tired of doing it all alone. Of course, I'm far too set in my ways to ever have another roommate. The older I got the more I felt like if I ever got married or seriously involved with someone, I'd still want to keep my own house. I don't know when (if ever) I'll be ready to give that up!

I lived with roommates from the time I was 18 (and up to that point I lived with my family, which in some ways is worse) until I was 32. That was more than long enough. And even after ten years I STILL enjoy living alone. But it's not always a picnic I assure you. By the way, I don't want to imply that the only reason I'd want to be with someone is that they can help me with housework! Sometimes I really do want to have someone in my corner, an advocate, a built in friend. I don't know. There are ups and downs to both living alone and living with someone. Right now I'm just feeling the downs is all. But some days I absolutely pride myself on my self-sufficiency. And I absolutely love my personal space, man.

I just got an email from someone asking me if I want to go out for drinks tomorrow night after work. You know, I really don't want to. And it's not even that I have anything specific planned. Actually, maybe it's because I don't have anything planned. It'll be the first night this week that I don't have something I need to do (like tonight, for example, I have to go to Petsmart and finalize an adoption). Which means that I can just go home and chill. Read my paper. Do my crossword puzzle. Watch a movie, or listen to music. Snuggle with my dog.

Especially my dog. She's a wonderful creature. I love her so much. And I already leave her alone 8 or 9 hours a day during the week. She means that much to me that I would actually rather stay home on a Friday night with her than go out with friends. She's sat there waiting for me all day. I come home, and then I just turn around and leave again? I didn't get her so that I could leave her for 12 hours...I WANT to stay home with her.

But of course my friends (these are friends who don't know about this blog so there's no way they'd read it) always bust my chops about it. I'm flattered, because I know they like to be with me (and I with them) but there are no dog owners in this group, and no parents either (or maybe 1 or 2 parents, but they have grown children). So they just think I'm being a stick in the mud. Believe me, back in the day I could party with the best of them. But inside I was always more of a homebody. And at 42 I've reached a stage where I do not like spending time doing things I don't want to do!

Also, they want to go to Bayshore for this outing. I'm not that impressed with Bayshore. I mean, we essentially bar hop from one chain restaurant to another. And to top it all off, I don't drink! I'm not a teetotaller or anything. I've just lost my taste for alcohol over the years. First of all, I'm allergic to red wine (and I LOVE red wine, so this is a tough one). White wine turns me red and sweaty, as does beer (and I have rosacea, so it's not just unattractive, it actually gets progressively worse with each flare up).

I enjoy vodka plenty, but it's not like I need to have it. I'm perfectly happy having a soda, or water. I like martinis, cosmos, etc., but never feel compelled to have them. I always feel bad when people come over because the most I can offer them is water. Maybe soy milk. I mean, I rarely buy soda or liquor. Only if I'm planning on having people over, and then it's extremely difficult because i just don't know what people drink! I mean, I literally drink water and coffee. If I go out to dinner or I'm at someone's house, I'll have soda, maybe iced tea or lemonade. But on any given day you could rest assured that coffee and water are the only two liquids in my system.

I don't know why, I guess I like the simplicity? Maybe I've gotten drunk enough in the past that I don't feel the need to go through it again? Actually, there's a lot of truth in that. I don't know if I could conceivably live through a hangover again. They get worse with age, and my last one (which was probably 10 or 12 years ago) was a doozy.

Anyway, to get back to my original point, I don't want to go out tomorrow night.

Sorry, this post kind of ended up everywhere. I had planned to write about my upcoming weekend, and a little about my single lifestyle. Then this email invitation came and I went off on a tangent. My apologies.

But this is probably a good peek inside my head. This is how I think! Scary, isn't it?