I absolutely loathe Mother's Day, for many reasons. I don't want to say it on Facebook, but I need to say it somewhere. How sad that something so miserable is what finally brought me back to LiveJournal. FUCK YOU, MOTHER'S DAY.
Sometimes I sort of play around with the idea of starting a blog, and then I think, "Why in the world would I do that?".
I don't have much of interest to say, in the first place, but let's be realistic...it would end up being just one more thing that I intended to maintain and then forgot about, and then remembered now and then just often enough to feel guilty about not maintaining it.
In other news, Iron Maiden is in town for a concert on Saturday. Way back in the early days they had some songs that I came to learn and love, mostly because the boys I was interested in loved them. I don't even have any of their music on my iPod now, because I guess I have turned an old, fickle, crotchety corner where that music just doesn't appeal to me anymore. But, when I found out about the concert, I was with Charles, made the mistake of blurting it out as I read it on Facebook, and then somehow agreed to go to this concert with him. Tickets were purchased literally within 10 minutes.
I don't really drink, but I still think I must have been drunk when I agreed to that. They are playing at an outdoor arena, in June, and I don't love being hot. The crowd will surely be comprised mostly of people who enjoy smoking and drinking lots of beer, and throwing themselves around in headbangey loops to the music. That's fine for them, but that is so not my thing that I can't even find the words to properly describe exactly how much that's not my thing.
So I was like, look, I'm sorry to do this to you Charles, but I shouldn't have said I would go to the concert. I will hate every stinking minute of the whole thing, and that's not fair to you. I would only want to take two big blankets (and possibly some pillows) and spread them out on the lawn in the very farthest back area where the least people wil be, and then I would want to sit down the whole time reading my Kindle, and then maybe take a nap. Otherwise, I will just be sweaty, buttfaced and thinking how much I wish I could turn a hose on everyone around us, smokers first. And that's not fair to anyone. That's a place where people are SUPPOSED to get sweaty, drunk and smoke their faces off if they want to. That's a place where people like me should just not ever go on a night that Alice Cooper and Iron Maiden are performing, because the whole thing is just a perfect storm of circumstances that turn me from a laid back person to a high maintenance complainey witch. No one wants that.
Charles said that if I sat on a blanket reading my Kindle at an Iron Maiden concert, he would definitely get his ass beaten by someone who had a problem with it. "STAND UP, BITCH! THIS IS IRON MAIDEN AND THEY DESERVE YOUR RESPECT!!!!" "No thanks, I would rather read my book. Carry on, though, don't let me stop you from enjoying yourself!" "I'm gonna kick the SHIT out of your HUSBAND for that!!!!"
So now he is trying to find someone to go with him...someone who knows more than 2 of their songs, someone who thinks jumping about amongst sweaty, drunk people that wave around lit cigarettes with reckless abandon is big fun. Strangely, he is not finding any takers. If he can't get another date, I'm going to have to go, because I can't make him go alone after I said I would join him. I wonder if it's too late to find a stranger on Craigslist to be his companion?
Oh, and I had to hit edit and come back to add this, which I guess is because it is somehow less on my mind than possibly, maybe starting and failing at blogging, but after 19.5 years working for the same company, I made the decision last week that it is way past time for me to get the eff out, so I told Charles, I told my Dad, and I told my Uncle Chris that I have 6 months to get myself on a new path, because the new, horrible computer system goes live on January 1st, and I don't care to be here for one minute of it. Telling them makes it real and official. I already hate my job, have gotten to the point that I pretty much hate the guts of everyone I work with, and I know for a fact that things will not ever get better here, but are guaranteed to get infinitely worse, so...it's time. I don't even care what I do next as long as it's not what I do now. I'm over commuting 100 miles round trip, too. OVER IT ALL!!!!!! So there is a very real chance that in 6 months we will be super broke and making our dog share her food with us, but in the grand scheme, I will be healthier for it. I value what's left of my sanity too much to let these jerks have the rest of it.
One of my New Year's Resolutions is to come back to Live Journal in 2010. I had thought there would be time enough for both LJ and Facebook, but as it turned out, FB used up all my social networking time. I think part of that was because it was a year of SO MANY reconnections, and there aren't too many people from my past or present left that I expect to come across, so I hope to better manage that time and split my efforts between the two sites.
2009 had a lot of lows, and I'm not going to miss it. There were some really good times, too, and I will try to only think of them when I reflect back, but mostly, I'm just going to try to look forward.
Another goal of mine is to take at least one picture per day, even if it's just from my camera phone. That sounds easier than losing weight, so I think it stands a real chance at sticking.
Charles is playing soccer on XBox. Dog is snoring after a stressful bout of fireworks that had her racing around in highly distressed circles. Cats are all asleep. I'm about to go to bed. We are rock stars.
I have one specific request for 2010 so far, and that is for Dick Clark to please retire and let Ryan Seacrest do the next countdown. That probably sounds more mean than it feels in my head, but man...the last 30 seconds of the year felt really uncomfortable. I'm glad he is feeling well enough to do the pre-recorded job, but it just seems like the time has come to pass that torch.
I love you people, you know that? Wishing you all only the very best things in the coming New Year!!
Please to be enjoying these album covers. I found them greatly amusing:http://www.stevecarter.com/albumcovers.htm
It won't stop raining here. People have died in the floods. Trees are falling. Canopies over gas station pumps are collapsing under the weight of the water. Trailer homes, buses and cars are being swept into rivers and streams like pine needles. This is serious business.
My dog recently had surgery - lost two toes and part of her foot, had a mass removed from her eyelid, and also had a swollen lymph node removed. She is Frankendog, all covered in stitches and shaved in weird places. Her go-home bandage was Tiffany blue, but today she got a new bandage, and I hear that it's black. I'm calling it her formalwear, but it might not be as fancy as I imagine it is.
While two of the sutured areas are fine so far, the vet said her foot isn't doing as well as they had hoped - it's greatly inflamed and red where the stitches are, and the smell is notsogood. She suspects that the bandage and splint being "much too tight" caused these problems, which makes me so fucking mad, because that means for 4 days our girl was suffering more than she needed to, and we had no idea. I've had bandages on too tight before, and said, "OW, TOO TIGHT!" and adjusted them. It makes me ill to think about her feeling that way for days, and not being able to do something about it.
Also, we were told to never, ever, ever, EVER let the bandages get wet, which has been challenging in this weather to say the least, considering that she has no choice but to go out and pee while standing in puddles. But, we managed to keep that foot dry, only to find out that while she was in a cage after surgery at the vet's office for a day and a half, they did not have the bandages covered, and she peed all over them. Which was why the bandages smelled like pee. Which we thought
was just that rubbery smell that you get with latex stuff, but no...it was pee. And when Charles asked if getting pee on her bandages the day of or after surgery, and not having the bandages changed was a major problem, the vet said no. Which is weird, considering how I was told to pretty much fly her by helicopter to the nearest emergency vet this weekend if her foot got wet at all, with water. Doesn't pee sound like a worse thing to get on bandages than water? Am I crazy, here? I know "they" say that urine is sterile, but really, that's only while it's still in the bladder. Once it's out, Germ City. But it's probably fine. Since it's the vet's fault, it shouldn't cause her any problems.
This dog had better be okay, or heads will roll. We have to wait for biopsies to come back, and all I want to hear is "Cancer Free! YAY!" so that I don't have to go all Cujo on someone's ass. Her fascinating and riveting journey through surgical recovery is being captured here, if anyone cares to see something as exciting as a dog wearing a bandage, and napping a lot: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=34973&id=1453472619&l=af0c3591ee
I love her stupid, y'all.
Over the past year or two, I feel like I have become a very different person than I was the other 37-38 years. I am not sure yet if this is a good or bad thing. The other day I let a woman have it in the bakery of our grocery store, and while she deserved it, today I wonder if I went too far? Did I go far enough? Should I have always let every flappy-mouthed nasty hag I've ever encountered who begged for my finger in her face have a piece of my mind? Or would that just have gotten me beat up a lot? I came out unscathed this time, but one day I might go ghetto on the wrong woman and end up in the ER. Would it be worth all that if it means I no longer have to just take other people's shit without standing up to them? Maybe. Was I better off when I swallowed every ounce of anger that reared its ugly hand when someone else did something uncalled for and worthy of a throat punch? I'm not sure that I was, because my stomach always seemed to hurt. Maybe it was just a fluke and I will keep my mouth shut in public from this point foward whenever I encounter some asshole who thinks they are better or more important than everyone else. I hope not. It definitely seems like the looser my brain shakes around in my skull, the shorter my fuse gets, so there is always a chance that someone is going to do something super rude to me, or even worse - to someone I care about - in 2 years, and lose a limb. Only time will tell.
I recently went over to the house of an old friend, and she lives in what looks like one of those HGTV Dream Houses. I tried not to gape and act too much like a country mouse, but it was hard because there is a special kind of beautiful crown molding atop every single door, including the pantry. The faucet in the bathroom which would be just a regular powder room for some of us, is the most amazing faucet I have ever seen, ever. I heard angels sing when I looked directly at it. Her bathroom is as big as one of the bedrooms in my house, and once I got a good look at it, including the incredible CHANDELIER hanging there, I had no choice but to tell her that she is not welcome in my home. She isn't a snob about it at all, this is just how she lives and how she has lived for most of her adulthood, and I guess once you get used to something like that, you don't really think about it much, but if she was in my wee vinyl-sided home, I would curl up into the shape of a boiled shrimp and lay on the (builder-grade carpeted) floor with humiliation. It has nothing to do with my friend, and everything to do with me, and I wish I knew how to shrug it off and not care, but I don't. There is a fantastic rock fireplace in her casual dining room, and basically what it boils down to is that her casual dining room is nicer than my entire house. Her front porch is the kind you see in movies. I don't have a front porch at all. Beside her in-ground pool is a basketball court. Beside my pool is a hornet's nest up against the aluminum wall. We have it better than some, not as good as others, and most of the time I am totally okay with this, but seeing how nice things can REALLY get without being Donald Trump tacky, was quite a slap of reality. I don't even think I want these things so much as I suddenly felt bad for not having any of them. I was once totally fine with not having Plantation shutters in our windows, and I will be totally fine with that again. It will pass. But for now, I seem to have a dose of the envies.
One thing that we do very have in common, despite our very different neighborhoods is the fact that we both have some SHITTAY neighbors. Hers calls the police every five minutes on her about things like her sprinklers running when it's "not her day", or because her kids are having too much fun in the pool and their happiness rattles his black and bitter heart. Ours are the ones who I should be calling the police on, but I haven't quite gotten there yet. It's a fine line, because I know that once I call the fuzz on their asses, there's no going back. But at the same time, the chick who moved in a few months ago and fights constantly with her boyfriend all day while his mother is at work (they are in their early 20's), just smashed a bunch of beer bottles in a fit of rage on Friday and left glass all over their driveway, the sidewalk, and in the cul-de-sac. As she knows, because she has eyes, there are a bazzilion kids who play basketball in that cul-de-sac every day, and they always play barefoot. Also, we have an outdoor cat who would have to walk through that mess, and there are people who walk their dogs around the whole neighborhood because of the sidewalks, who shouldn't have to drag their pets through a bunch of broken glass. She did this at about 9:00 a.m., and I waited and waited to see if she would come out and clean it up, but no, of course not. So I tried to sweep some of it up with my pitiful kitchen broom, to no avail, and finally asked Charles to bring home a heavy push broom from work, which he did, and then he proceeded to clean up all the glass, including in their driveway. ONLY because of the animals.
Did she notice that someone cleaned this up for her? I don't see how she couldn't have, but we have no way of knowing. I would love to believe that this embarassed her enough that she would never pull shit like that again, but I have zero faith in that theory. I don't particularly want to talk to her, or anyone else in that house about what she did, or any of the other rip-roaring fights she and her boyfriend have in the front yard when mommy is gone. This is the same house where a gunshot rang out while the son was having a party, but he told me it wasn't them, it must have come from the golf course behind our houses. This is the same house where one of the guy's friends was arrested in the woods behind our property - Charles was home to witness the whole thing. The guy was taken down by police dogs, while officers trained their guns on him yelling, "FREEZE!!!! FREEZE!!!!! GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR NOW!!!!!!!!!!!", and then once he was firmly in cuffs, the gang unit also showed up. Later the neighbor kid told us the fuss was because the guy and his girlfriend were fighting, and he had her keys, so she called the cops. We must look really stupid if he thinks we believe they send 5 patrol cars, the K-9 unit and the Gang Squad chasing a man into the woods over a minor domestic squabble.
I'm not sure what to do. They are just renters, and for all I know they could up and move any time. I don't want to create a bunch of animosity on their end by calling the police and complaining about them. Not to mention, this kid's friends are SCARY, and I do mean the kind who make shit your pants just by looking at you. They don't pretend to be cordial to us if we happen to walk out for the mail while they are gathered in the driveway smoking weed and talking about what bullshit it is that one of their friends got busted for whatever they just got busted for. I do not want to piss these people off, so I guess I will just continue to hope that they leave soon. The thing is, I really don't think the mother has one clue about what goes on when she isn't home. She's the type of sunshiney, friendly person who seems like she is always on her way to, or just getting home from a glorious day at church. She doesn't see that her son is a deadbeat, and that his girlfriend she let move in with them is psycho (she throws stuff around a whole lot, and screams like an animal for sometimes ten minute intervals, which scares my dog, but again - never when the mom is around). We live in the suburbs. This wasn't supposed to happen.
And now, on to the eyerolly part. Charles' mother (MIL) is starting to really lose her mind (even worser and morer than beforer) because none of her older relatives have died and left her money in a really long time. She has a new BMW to pay for, fer Christ's sake! She will come right out and tell us, looking us straight in the eye, that she wishes her dad would die. She doesn't sugarcoat that at all anymore - she is plain pissed off that he dares to continue living for no reason, with all that money in the bank. That is a direct quote, my friends. His sister, Aunt Jean, recently took a fall and got a small rip in her esophagus. Aunt Jean has a daughter who comes over daily, found her on the floor bleeding, called 911, and got her to the hospital so they could sew up the tear and keep her a bit for observation and tests since Aunt Jean is in her 80's now. MIL called Charles and said she was "dropping EVERYTHING", which is exactly nothing, to go up there and help Aunt Jean. So she took a taxi to the airport, caught a flight to Lexington, Kentucky, then rented a car. When she got there, Aunt Jean was doing just fine, sitting up, chatting, going to be released the following day. MIL told her that wasn't necessarily a good thing, because remember what happened when MIL's mother got released from the hospital? 10 days later she died from a blood clot! Believe it or not, Aunt Jean was still willing to take her chances and go on home despite the fact that someone else once died from a blood clot after being hospitalized. She must be some kind of eternal optimist! A dreamer! MIL got really mad when she told Aunt Jean's daughter to move away from one of the beeping machines, because MIL needed to be able to see it at all times. Aunt Jean's daughter said, "You don't even know what anything on this machine does." So MIL started crying, and flounced into the hallway juuuuust outside the door so that everyone could hear, where she called Charles and hollered that she was coming home early because people were being mean to her, and Charles needed to come pick her up from the airport. On Monday, at 5:00 p.m. Which has to be THE most hellish time to have to go anywhere in Atlanta at all. Don't ask me why she couldn't just get a taxi back home...I suppose that just wouldn't have been dramatic enough. I'm sure if someone, anyone, had begged her not to go she would have stayed longer but...no.
After she got back home, she told Charles she was incredibly depressed because "it has begun". What has begun? Well, Aunt Jean's fall was only the beginning of what will surely be an avalanche of relatives dropping dead like flies, and MIL "has no choice" but to "drop everything" and go to Kentucky for several weeks to "take care of everyone". Did anyone, much less everyone, ask her to come? Nope. And yet, somehow this is all on her shoulders. I told Charles that I had no idea she had such a heavy load to bear, being the lone person responsible for everyone in the state of Kentucky. That's a lot of pressure! So she told him that she decided not to pack any funeral clothes, because she's trying to be positive (for the first time in her entire life) and he said, "Funeral clothes?? For whose funeral?" and she said, "Aunt Jean." So he said, "Isn't she home and doing fine now?" and MIL said, "That's what they SAY, but she had the sniffles on the phone yesterday, I heard it, which is obviously pneumonia, and that's very dangerous for someone her age. I wish I didn't have to go handle this, but if I don't, no one else will These things always fall on me, Charles, and it's just so exhausting." As bad as I feel for Aunt Jean and the rest of the people in Kentucky that she might try to "help" right into an early grave, I am selfishly looking forward to not being in the same state as MIL for a while.
Meanwhile, last Sunday one of my aunts suffered a massive stroke and was believed to be brain dead. On Tuesday my uncle was told to get things in order and start thinking about when it's time to pull the plug. All hope was lost, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, and we were all in shock - especially considering that this aunt of mine is only 49 years old. Once again, this is on my mom's side of the family, the side that always takes the big hits, and needless to say, there were some mighty upsetting days while all this was going on. Come Thursday, my aunt suddenly took a turn for the better. She is paralyzed along her entire left side, blind in her left eye, can't swallow food on her own or take in enough oxygen without assistance, but she is able to laugh and smile and understand what is being said to her. That's 2 days after the doctor said she was gone forever, no hope. So let that be a lesson, kids, that it's probably best to give someone AT LEAST A WEEK before pulling the plug, because WOW, right? And the whole time all of this was happening, not one person, not my uncle, not my sweet cousins, no one got as dramatic and martyred as MIL did when nothing was ever seriously wrong. I like my family's way of doing things better.
My 51 year old co-worker, who, much to my chagrine, enjoyed speaking EXTENSIVELY about politics during the months leading up to, and after the election, who voiced many strong opinions about this and that, just asked me this (a direct quote):
"Is Obama a Republican?"
"So does that mean that McCain [the one she voted for, btw] was a Republican?"
Just received an email from a friend about her 40th birthday party that had been scheduled for June 20th. Was not expecting her to say it had been cancelled because she just found out she has breast cancer, and will be having a double mastectomy on June 16th.
Reading those words felt like a gut punch. I've been sick, shaky, tearful and nauseous ever since. She must feel like that times about ten million. She has already been through so much in her life, and has tried for nearly 10 years to have a child, to no avail. Now this. Rotten and unfair.
I hate you, cancer.
On Sunday I told him, "Don't eat all the cheese, it will make you constipated."
He said, "Pfffft! No, it won't! I'm NEVER constipated." And then he ate the rest of the cheese.
Today is Tuesday. Guess who's all stopped up? Hint: It's not the dog. She came home from being boarded with the runs.
PS: Those of you who know Charles on Facebook, please don't tell him I told you about his crabby colon. I think he might get mad. Thanks in advance!
Been busy, busy, busy lately, but not in only bad ways, which is so refreshing. We went to Savannah for a glorious wedding thrown by a family with big bucks, and it sort of blew my mind in the best possible way. I want more of Savannah ASAP, with a fat side order of Tybee Island, which turned out to be only another 20 minutes away, so we popped in to say hi to the ocean. I'm an idiot for not realizing until now that there was a beach just 3.5 hours from our house this whole time.
I'm wearing a necklace today that makes a lot of JINGLE JANGLE JINGLE! noises, and I can't decide if I like it, or am annoyed by it.
I wrote a Post-It note for myself a few days ago that says only: AIR MATTRESS. I have no idea now what that's about. My short term memory is getting scarily weak these days, which I blame on hormones, because I blame everything on hormones. I also am struggling more and more for the right word when I'm speaking to someone, often creating long silences while the gerbil in my brain takes a nap instead of spinning the little wheel, but even worse than that is my recent glitch of plugging in a similar, but completely wrong word instead. Examples: Nose instead of News. Celebration instead of Cemetery. Calculator instead of Caterpillar. You can see how this might be confusing to the people who have to listen to me, yes?
Work continues to suck complete ass, and now there is a sudden possibility that we may be moving, which will put me in a special circle of Hell that I have visited twice before - scouting properties, making appointments for the owners to view the ones which meet our requirements, listening to them bitch, moan, complain and pick apart every choice, only to decide to just stay put after all. This process usually takes 3 weeks in real time, and about 3 years off of my total expected life span.
Our dog broke her toe about 3 months ago and it healed all wonky, and now sticks out. She is no longer in pain, but is obviously bothered by her crazy gimp toe because she licks it INCESSENTLY and leaves nasty, wet saliva spots on the sheet in the bed. Dogs are gross, man.
I quit the gym. Yes, ALREADY. I had to face the fact that I am just not the right sort of person for all that working out stuff. The woman who owns the place wanted to "motivate" me into staying, which only made me back away faster. Wave some good fried chicken under my nose and I might consider staying, but if all you have is bottled water and things that make me cramp up and sweat...well, that's going to be a mighty tough sell.
I have a gajillion and two pictures to add from the past couple of months, but have grown incredibly lazy because it was so easy to load them on Facebook, and it's not as easy to do that here, so maybe I will add them later. Or not. I have a much lower tolerance for hard things than I used to. And by hard, I mean things that require more effort than a single click.
Going to another wedding in May, this one in Charleston, SC. It will be on the opposite side of the spectrum when it comes to the wedding and ceremony than the Savannah one was, but we are going to spend an extra day in town to see some of the sights and just hope that if a major fistfight breaks out that we will be well out of the fray and not in danger of having our throats slashed with a broken beer bottle.
It's hot, and the A/C in my car is still broken for the third summer in a row, and it's truly amazing how the instant I am in an air conditioned environment again, I forget about the sweltering pit of despair my car is, until the next time I have to go somewhere, and then I'm all "FUCK, IT IS HOT!!!!!!!!!!!"
Charles' mother bought a brand new convertible BMW last month because her 2006 BMW had a ding in the windshield. When she came over for Easter, she was polite enough to pretend for 5 minutes that there were other things in the world that mattered besides her new car, but after those 5 minutes were up, it was one long car commercial. She stuffed dessert in our faces while we were still eating dinner so we could hurry up and go outside to take more pictures of her in the car. Because we had only taken about 20 so far, and that wasn't nearly enough. During her polite moments she talked about things like how good her new boyfriend is at "going south". Luckily, the 85 year old woman sitting to my left had no idea what my MiL was talking about, so she just smiled and said, "Oh! Uh huh, how nice!", because she probably thought we were talking about vacationing in Florida.
One of my bosses just called in for messages and when we were signing off he said, "Love you!". He does this all the time. He does not love me, he just can't seem to deprogram himself from doing that when he is talking to a female other than his wife, so I have to assume he is also telling all of his female clients that he loves them, too.
You never really realize just how many beads are on a necklace until you are trying to pick them all up off the floor.
This was once my mother's necklace, and I'm sure she only paid a few dollars for it sometime inthe '80s or '90s - it wasn't heirloom quality or particularly special - but I'm kicking myself anyway for snapping the thread. I don't have a lot of her things. I made a conscious effort when she died to just select some items that meant something to me, and most of those things ended up being costume jewelry, scarves, Christmas decorations, and some dishes. Every time one of those things gets destroyed, I worry that the day will come when I have nothing left to remember her by, and I wonder if I shouldn't have been so selective before.
Charles is finally off jury duty. They found the guy guilty of felony murder, and sentenced him to life in prison with the possibility of parole. Charles feels good about it, that justice was done. Last night was the first time in 2 weeks that he didn't dream about the trial.