That Just Happened

So, to add to the fun I have two stories to tell. Both of which are horrifying. NICE.

This morning I nearly wrecked the truck AGAIN.
I over-corrected after reaching for something.
IT COULD NOT HAVE BEEN A MORE STUPID THING TO DO.

So that was nice.

But God protects the stupid and for that I am eternally grateful.

And my mocha spilled all over so double-points for me. I effin' bought another one once I arrived safely in town. It was that or a bottle of Jack.

All is well. No one is injured, truck isn't damaged. Just me mentally chastising myself repeatedly for being incredibly stupid.

Story #2:

Kevin called me this morning: "Did you know your dad is in the hospital again?"

"Nope."

"Of course not" he says laughing. "Okay, now you know. Bye!"

I ponder the situation for awhile then call Brother Dear.

"Did you know Dad was in the hospital?"

"No, I'm not surprised though."

And so it goes.

I asked him if I should call out to the house & bust them. He recommended no, just let them be. "This is what they do."

Then he continues:

"The last time, he called me at 11:00 at night, on a Sunday to come get him. Mom had taken him to the hospital and left him to find his own way home."

I've been giggling about that all day long. That's funny, I don't care who you are.

So, a little tragedy & a little comedy all in one post!

Whispers

I attended a wedding on Saturday that was probably the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended. I left my cell phone in the truck and regret it terribly as I'd love to have photos to share. I will ask her if it's okay to post a picture when she has them on her blog.

The lovely bride was my co-worker so I had heard details about the wedding off & on for the past few months. She was determined not to be a bridezilla and she did very well. Nary a pout or tantrum in sight. Considering she was doing a lot of it herself, she had reasons to be one on many occasions. (:-D

The wedding was at an old homestead in a small farming community. The chairs & aisle were set up under a small orchard of trees with an arbor used as the what-would-it-be-called...pulpit for lack of a better word.

Her best friend officiated. It was a non-God wedding and to me the words were even more meaningful and important. Instead of hearing Corinthians and rote prayers, he spoke about the two of them and what it would take to be married.

The couple walked hand in hand down the aisle. Both smiling and steadfast in what they were doing. He in a simple suit and she in a beautiful gown with a hair pretty that she made herself.

But the best part? Oh, the best part was the vows. Her friend announced that they had decided to write their own vows to share and would do so now. I hadn't heard about this part & I am always impressed when people write their own vows.

They Whispered Them. Only to Each Other.

I KNOW!

It was so beautiful. Just perfectly lovely. She standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear and giggling while she did it. Then it was his turn, he cupped her head with his hand and whispered in her ear, occasionally pulling back to look at her then continuing to whisper.

Perfection.

It was exactly how a wedding should be. Beautiful and simple and most importantly, focused solely on the people in love.

Happy Wedding Day J & T. May you live happily ever after.

Hay!

It’s hay season here in the county, in most counties I assume. Everyone here has a story about hay, having grown up in a farm community. Everyone has had a job related to hay in some fashion: bucking hay, hauling hay, shoveling hay, etc.

My father-in-law had a job hauling hay across the mountain pass when he was fourteen years old. Of course, this was way way way before any of the licensing laws that we have now. Rumor has it, he drove a hay truck to the licensing office to get his license when he was sixteen. When the licensor asked him where his vehicle was to take the driving test, he reportedly gestured to the hay truck. The licensor asked him who drove him to the office & my f-i-l replied “I did, I just got back from Ellensburg” (on the Eastern part of the state). The licensor signed off on his license right there.

Then the other day Kevin & were traveling somewhere, I don’t remember where. We were going past hay fields that had been mown. They were the big packaged, circular, hay bales that you see now. Kevin gestured toward them and said: “You know, they’re talking about making those illegal now.” I asked him why and he told me:

“Because the cows aren’t getting three square meals a day anymore…”

A little silliness for relief from my previously pissy posts. (:-D

Cell Phone Trajectory

I rarely lose my temper and thus have never thrown something in anger. I've been tempted, oh, I've so been tempted but so far have resisted any urges. Last night was the acid test of my resistance. I very nearly hucked my cell phone across the property.

Luckily, pragmatism kicks in and the little voice tells me, just in time:
"You'll just have to go find it before the dogs do and if it's broken then you're going to be More Pissed than before so just go imagine snicking kittens and punting baby bunnies instead. And, oh, go call your brother and piss him off too."

What precipitated this, you ask? Pull. Up. A. Chair. This is a whopper. As Kevin says "I can't make this sh*t up."

The Other Brother took my parents to the final oncologist appointment at the University of Washington Cancer Care Hospital. This was the final diagnosis for my dad. For those of you just joining us: my dad has liver, kidney, lung and most likely brain cancer. It began as colon cancer so you can see where this is going.

First off, Brother had the same experience as I did with my parents as I did save my Dad falling in the driveway; the parents weren't ready, bickered, passive-aggressive behavior, etc. So fun was had by all.

Anyway...

The oncologist finally called it. He gave a range of weeks to months left for my dad's life. At the rate of the cancer growth, the liver enzyme level and his white blood cell count, it is simply a matter of time. And little time at that.
They didn't think that pursuing any further treatment is necessary or possible. In fact, they felt that any further treatment would probably kill him. He did mention that Dad could try the low-level chemo pill in attempt to prolong his life but even then the time would be very little.

So sad, yes but not unexpected and frankly a little relieving as his regular oncologist - according to the parents - is all wine and roses and refuses to give any sort of diagnosis or timeline. (thank you litigious lawyers and families)

Brother phoned me and said "This is it. If you have anything to say, anything to resolve now is the time." This clarity is UNHEARD of from the Other Brother (he's usually an ignore it until you can't ignore it anymore kind of guy) so Wow, it's Time.

I phoned Brother Dear and let him know. He was in the same camp as me: partially relieved and kicking into "Okay, here we go" mode.

Neither of us called our parents that day because they never want to talk the day of a doctor's appointment. I think they create their alibi and practice for a full 24 hours before talking to any of us.

Finally I called my mom last night before we left for dinner.

She stage whispers:
The ((PINHEAD, Small Town)) oncologist doesn't agree with the ((Nationally Recognized University of Washington Cutting Edge)) Oncologist and he says Dad has at least a year and it will be six months until "he exhibits symptoms".

Wait, what?


In the same breath she tells me he has a bladder infection, is running a temp, only wants to sleep, and is "coughing stuff up and they don't know what it is. They're running tests and when they know they'll put him on the right medicine. Oh, and they're putting him on Avastin and after they treat all of that, he should be feeling really good again."

I SWEAR TO GOD THIS IS TRUE, SHE ACTUALLY SAID THIS.

Yeah.

The sky is Green in my mother's world.

Brother Dear actually busted out laughing when I told him about our conversation. Because, really, what can you do at this point?

He interjected loudly at the part of "he's coughing up stuff":
"Do you think it might be a TUMOR?"

Black humor = Survival in this family.

At this point of the conversation with my mother I am actually envisioning myself chucking my phone out into the yard as far as I can throw it and hearing my mom's delusions fade into the distance as the phone disappears into the trees. The mental image is enough to keep me from throwing it.

So, I'm sad but then I feel guilty because a part of me just wants this over with and then I get mad at my mom (not that she's aware) because she refuses to even glance in the direction of the truth, let alone make eye contact with it.

I'm sure all of the above is normal though....well, with the exception of the sky being green.

Really?

Yesterday was one of those days where I literally look up at the sky and say "Really?"

Of course there's the constant family drama with my dad and then the reappearance of Kevin's exwife this week.

And Then:

Someone that I once worked with was killed in a car accident and I just heard about it. So that's a bummer.

And Then:

I saw one of my former staff members from the school whom I've always ADORED. She is an angel on earth I'm telling you.

Yeah, she has brain cancer.

Really??

Thank You Y'all

With the illness of my dad, my friends have circled the wagons. For that I am eternally grateful.

I have a handful of close friends. I'm not super popular or outgoing, that's Kevin.

In fact, I can be a total crap friend sometimes. To quote a friend, Tina, "I'll be your friend, I'm just terrible at remembering to BE a friend." I understand what she is saying. I forget to call or call back. I'm lazy about hanging out.

But the friends I have now are friends that I've had for Years.
The accumulation of a lifetime, each of them represents certain time periods or versions of me.

C and I have known each other since grade school. We are still tight after many, many years.

I met K & D through the school over ten years ago. ("Ten! Ten!?!?!? TEN YEARS! Ten!")

CD and I have known each other since middle school. He has become a regular part of my life with the introduction of Facebook. In the past, CD surfaced when something major happened in either of our lives. Now, it's a regular appearance and I am appreciating the friendship more each day.

Now, D and CD have met and OMG, it's ON. They bonded quickly. I'm a little scared, frankly.

K is the friend that I talk to when I have "What do you think about this?" situations. We compare Target shopping and minutiae of the day. K listens.

D is my mischief friend. She is the one who drags me off the couch and says "C'mon We're doing this."

Then there are my blogger-facebook-e-friends. (Hi Bea! Dyn! Jess!) I've found those friendships have become invaluable as well. There such comfort in a one sentence comment, reminding me that we're all connected in this crazy, chaotic life.

My point being, is that all of these wonderful souls fulfill a niche in our friendship. Without even one of them, I would be lost.

So Thank You.

Lost Bowls Found

I brought home two bowls today that are just like bowls I had when I was married to Michael. I loved those bowls but left them behind when we divorced. I left nearly everything behind, as I just wanted the hell out.

Longtime readers will remember this post: keepsakes-memories-or-betrayal

It was triggered by an Everyone Loves Raymond episode where Debra had a bunch of items throughout the house that were from former relationships; a picture frame, an ice chest and something else.

So, I am having a tinge of guilt – albeit misplaced – about bringing these bowls home. However, they are not the style of bowls that Kevin will use so it will just be my little secret. And it's not like I am going to be wistfully thinking about Michael while I eat my Fruit Loops.

And I just freaking love them, always have always will.

Here’s a picture, taken in the setting sunlight through our windows:

I KNOW, right? - continued

So, we friended Kevin's exwife. Of course as soon as we did it, we could browse through her pictures & posts.

Oh
My
God

She has SIX children, possibly seven. She's been married no less than four times and is listed as "Engaged" right now.

I asked Kevin if he would have recognized her if he happened to pass her in the mall. He looked at her pictures and said no way. He had to shift his thinking, she's a middle-aged MOM now whereas he remembers a 24 year old "hottie".

Kevin recognized how brave it was of her to approach him first. He could have ignored her request or said some pretty awful things to her so there was a big risk taken by her. She posted a note late last night stating that she was glad he accepted her friendship, she didn't think he would.

He said it's nice to have it finished. Everything has come full circle now.

But he did have me update his pictures...hahahahaha (:-D

Alls well that ends well

I KNOW, right?

Oh, Facebook, how revolutionary you are, creating moral and ethical situations for every single member of the universe.

Today, Kevin received a friend request…..from his ex-wife.

I KNOW!

We knew this was a chance when we friended two people from our past. They’ve always been friends with his ex-wife and we assumed they would be a conduit for his ex-wife to make a reappearance. And she did.

Kevin hasn’t seen or heard from her since 1991 so plenty of changes have happened. He is very curious to see how her life is going and, of course, what she looks like. He said that he has nothing to hide and there is a part of him that wants to say “Look at this great life I have!”

Kevin also says that at this point in life, it will be a relief to just let it go. "It hurts me more to carry resentment than it does her. She doesn't even realize it."

I completely agree with him on all points. I am not worried about anything getting “rekindled” as I am the one that does the updates and posts on his facebook page. Also, if he feels like there is unfinished business, then he should take care of it.

So let’s see how this goes!

Nope

Last week my mom called in a panic (rightfully) to come pick her up and take her to the doctor in Everett. It's 45 minutes from my work and another 45 minutes south to Everett. My day was shot. Luckily for me, work is super flexible and I could leave. She had an eye infection that had to be treated by the specialist immediately or risk losing sight in that eye so panic was due.

But that didn't stop me from muttering & cursing when I got there and she casually mentions that she needs to go to Seattle rather than Everett. It's another 30 minutes to Seattle AND it would put us coming home in rush hour. *awesome*

So, crisis diverted. We got her to the specialist and subsequently to the ER and they took care of her. Whew.

And then...

A few days later, my Dad called and left a voicemail:
"I need you to take me to the doctor in Seattle, even though you don't want to."

Again: *awesome*

Twice my parents have told me "You get to drive the New Car" in order to keep me from killing them...like that's a prize. But it was better than their Escort that I hated.

On one of the busiest days that work has had since I've been there, I had to be gone. Not Good.

I arrived at The Parents at 8:25 AM and they're not ready. Dad is eating breakfast and isn't dressed. The awesomeness continues....

Dad finally gets ready to leave, goes out to the car and FALLS. This happens often, no need to panic.

Back into the house we go so he can change clothes.

And the Parental Bickering begins.

Finally I walked outside and began dead-heading my mother's rhododendrons.

We eventually got onto the road, Dad evntually slept in the back and my mom rode shotgun. A few barbs were traded and I considering rolling their windows down like a Mom would for bickering children.

Have you ever seen the movie "Forget Paris" with Debra Winger and Billy Crystal? When Billy takes his father-in-law anywhere and he random names businesses, signs, etc. That is so my mom. If it weren't funny, I would have undone her seatbelt and kicked her door open.

We get to UW Cancer Center with nary a glitch. Dad insists on getting out and making his way on his own. Mom alternately worries and badgers him. Off he goes.

The car door shuts and she starts complaining....I tune her out, concentrating on parking.

By sheer dumb luck, we find my dad. We wait to check in, barbs are traded...Mom fusses, Dad resents, rinse and repeat. So awesomely fun.

I abscond his paperwork and complete it because they won't tell the truth on any of the questions. (alcoholism, general health, etc) And they don't bring his meds or a list of them. Sigh.

The doctor calls us back and explains the procedure they want to do...direct injection of nasty chemo into the liver, this will only buy time...I'm irritated that we're even having this conversation and irritation continues when the doctor says "You have to meet with the oncologist in order to get accepted into this program." Really?

Dad is flippant about answering questions and my mom starts "beaking off" as my Canadian friends call it. She's trying to tell the truth but she's being so snarky that I want to smack her. The doctor looks at me occasionally for confirmation or negation of information.

Eventually he does a physical examination. Dad has a untreated hernia that I had heard about but not seen. OMG OMG OMG it looked like the movie Alien. I swear to God the doctor had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming "What the hell is that thing!?!?!?"

My mom thinks that the surgeon is going to fix his hernia and his poor circulation through surgery "once he gets stronger", completely ignoring that Dad is terminal. I think I caught the Doctor eye-rolling at one point.

The doctor begins to talk about Dad's health, the unlikelyhood that this procedure is going to help much and how Dad needs to be proactive. (I nearly LOL'd) Dad interrupts him and says:

"When I graduated high school, my life expectancy was 58 years old."

Um...wait, what?

WTF does that have to do with ANYTHING. We don't know.

The alcoholism is the final discussion. The doctor tells him that it is required that he stops drinking in order to do this procedure. He suggest AA....and the conversation goes downhill from there. My mom tells him that "You Have to Get Off the Sauce". Firstly, I hate that expression with the white hotness of the sun. Secondly, Not Ever Going to Happen.

The doctor excuses himself to get lab paperwork and Mom starts in. I interrupt her and say in a most Forrest Gump kind of way: "We have had this discussion before and I'm tired of it. You have a choice and it's clear. If you're going to drink, FINE, but don't waste time and resources doing treatment if you are. And that's all I have to say about that."

And I walked out the door, imagining kicking baby bunnies and snicking kittens to cool off.

When I return, they are both meek. I rarely lose my temper so they know to duck and cover when it happens.

We go to the lab and they start in again. Mom is hovering and Dad is grouchy. I walked ahead of them until I nearly couldn't see them anymore.

Lab draw goes quickly and we go to the car. As I'm pulling out, Dad suggests taking the scenic route home so he can see the 520 Floating Bridge. "Nope" is all I said as I turned to get on 1-5.

We drive in relative silence home, stop for lunch and both are quieter but still trading barbs.

Again, I'm waiting to turn to get on I-5 and both parents this time suggest that we take the scenic route home via a smaller highway.

"Nope"

I essentially kicked them both to the curb at the house and left. I waited five minutes before calling Brother Dear and shouting:

"I DESERVE COMBAT PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Go read this!

I've had a total crap day and as I've been taught that if I don't have anything positive to say, to not say anything at all...so I'm hijacking a post.

The lovely Swistle posted this today and It Is Brilliant! If you read Swistle, you've already read this post and if you don't, GO, GO NOW and read her or we can't be friends anymore.

Click here to read: The New Morality

I will return when my attitude doesn't suck. Tomorrow's another day, Scarlett.

Edith's House

I triple-love this story and had to share...enjoy!


http://www.komonews.com/news/local/50177072.html

SEATTLE -- The little old Ballard house that became the symbol of one woman's unyielding principle has changed hands.

Edith Macefield's two-story, two-bedroom house has been sold to a Seattle-based firm Reach Returns, Inc. The sale closed on Tuesday, the firm said.

In recent years Macefield's humble home became a sought-after piece of property, mostly because she wanted to keep it humble and hers.

Amid a grid of high-priced development stood Macefield and her home, where she'd lived since 1966. A wind chime hung in the archway, dancing in the breeze, as kitten figurines sunbathed on the windowsill.

The 86 year old refused to sell her home even when developers surrounded her, literally, shading three of her home's four sides with the walls of a new, high-reaching building.

Even an offer of $1 million wasn't enough to buy out "Ol' Edith," as they called her. Her home had been assessed at $8,000 with the lot valued at $120,000.

"All she cared about was being here long enough for her to die," said Barry Martin, a construction superintendent Macefield befriended in her last days.

Ol' Edith stood until the end, but even she couldn't stand forever. In 2008 she succumbed to pancreatic cancer and died.

Macefield left her home to her new friend and caretaker, Martin, who'd helped her prepare meals, get to her doctor's appointments, do her grocery shopping in her last days. She told him to sell the home and use the money to send his kids to college.

But Martin inherited more than Macefield's home. He also earned the criticism of many who accused of him of manipulating Ol' Edith in order to gain control of her house. But Martin says it wasn't he who charmed Macefield; in fact, it was the other way around.

"There was something about her that kind of grabbed you and just didn't let go, and you wanted more," he said.

It was Martin who sold the home to Reach Returns, Inc. The firm plans to preserve the home's exterior but remodel the interior, then raise the home to the height of the surrounding commercial building.

Underneath the elevated home will be two levels of open space for the public called Credo Square, the firm said, and visitors can pay to etch their credo on to the square's tiles.

"The Edith Macefield story challenged many people to ask themselves the hard questions... what really matters...?, what do you stand for...?, what is your credo?" said Reach Returns co-founder Greg Pinneo in a statement. "The home needs to be elevated literally and philosophically. We believe that the depth of thought that this story initiated should live on."

And here are some more pictures & more story:

http://seattle-daily-photo.blogspot.com/2009/06/edith-little-house.html

Self Portrait

I'm always a little jealous when I see clever profile pictures on Facebook, Blogger, and such.
I am not comfortable in front of a camera at all. Behind one, sure. In front of one, yikes.

I struggled with a profile picture on FB, originally just cropping myself from a group shot.

There are a few challenges with photographing myself.

Firstly, I wear glasses so not having a reflection is an issue. Or have the glasses bent/crooked.

Secondly, I have a nose. No, really. A Nose.

Thirdly, which can actually be listed as "Firstly, Part A" is that my eyes cross if I'm looking at certain angles. ATTRACTIVE.

I was playing with my cell phone camera tonight...I'm easily entertained...and I came up with a picture that makes me LOL.

So, without further ado: Firegirl

Just between Dads

At the family barbecue, I couldn't throw a rock without hitting a parent or parental figure.

My in-laws came to watch the show for the first time in years. At one point, I had three women all at one table that were a mother to me in one form or another. My actual mom, my mother-in-law (also named Donna Lee, like my mom) and Rose, my mother's BFF who raised me the first month of my life and off/on throughout my younger years. I am the daughter that Rose never had.

My dad sat on the deck during dinner and during the fireworks, otherwise he was in the house as he should be. My father-in-law watched the baseball game with him and I overheard them each talking smack about Griffey and A-Rod.

Knowing that it was probably my dad's last fireworks, it felt like a cycle had been completed somehow. Sometime during that night, I became part of the Johnson family instead of the Moore family.

Kevin confirmed it when he told me this story, the next day:

"Before my parents left last night, Dad stood behind your dad. He put his hands on his shoulders, leaned down and said something quietly to your dad. I don't know what he said."

I do.

Probably something along the lines of "She'll be fine, we got her." A final reassurance between fathers.

Lazy Sunday

Last week was the kind of stressful that I don't enjoy. Family drama and general busyness that I find most exhausting. The three day weekend was perfectly timed. Not only did I get to actually enjoy Not Working this holiday (I was still in full-fledged pout mode last year), I had zero plans. Other than the barbecue at my parents, I was untethered. This Never Happens.

It's a lazy, warm, summer Sunday. John Mayer is playing in the background. I just finished reading a book. The dogs are sleeping on the porch and the birds are singing. I've e-spoken to my closest friends all weekend and right this minute: life is good.

Whilst the remainder of July will be stressful and busy, I'm wallowing in the peace that is a lazy Sunday.

A New Way to Spend the Holiday

Tonight was the annual fireworks in my hometown. Longtime readers know that I used to be a pyrotechnician and was usually buried in work this time of year. Tonight was the second anniversary of what I fondly call "When We Blew Up." ( see Post #1 and Post #2) With regret, I am no longer a pyrotechnician. Probably a wise choice but I rarely enjoy wise choices.

I was prepared for pouting on the sidelines tonight. Last year I hated, hated, hated sitting on the sidelines. After years upon years of being in the mix of things, I felt supremely left out watching instead of directing a show.

Another milestone tonight...while I'm being all melodramatic...this is probably the last fireworks show that my dad will see. His prognosis is terminal and we're looking at mostly likely months at this point. He was tired but did manage to see the show tonight.

Dad began the fireworks in 1963 and has ensured that it has continued all these years. It feels like the circle is complete now. He knows now that his tradition will continue while his kids sit safely on the shore.

While I was prepared for SuckFest 2009, I was wrong. Our friends still gathered, the fam was all present & accounted for. This year even my second-longest friend CD was there. CD and Kevin get along remarkably well and now D has met him too. CD was in the mix nearly immediately much to my amusement. (but not surprise)

So, the page has turned. We're now spectators. While this is not what I've chosen, I can appreciate the gift that all of us are safe & healed, sitting on the shore watching the show and enjoying the time we spend together. The tradition, now altered, will be continued.

Bad News Bear

Anyone who has met me knows that I am not the most coordinated person. Sports and me are not in a relationship at any point in time. It's not that I'm simply clumsy. It's more complicated than that.

Firstly, I was a trauma birth. I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck and I was not a pretty color. This in 1968 so I was sent home with a "She'll be fine."
So, I am sure there were/are some long term issues created there.

I am visually impaired. I have had glasses since I was 18 months old and have had two surgeries. I had bifocals when I was 30 years old. I will eventually go blind in one eye.

My hearing is not great as well. Chronic ear infections as a child created scar tissue. Loud activities as an adult has not so much helped the issue.

So, let's recap: bad vision, bad hearing and motor skill issues. Okay.

With that, it is with surprise that my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to play in Little League Baseball.
*awesome idea*

I'm sure I must have wanted to but Really? Did they think this was a good idea? Because on the surface, this doesn't seem like a good idea for my self-esteem.

It wasn't.

Oh, I sucked. I sucked A. LOT. Succcckkkkeeedddd. Sucked to the nth degree.

But it's okay because my parents were there encouraging me, right? Right?
Um, no.

And the other players were supportive because I was the only girl on the team(s) right?
Again, not really no. (1979...Title Nine was a story book chapter title at that point)

I also have to mention that I'm left handed. My dad thought it would be "easier" for me to be right handed so refused to let me use my left hand. (hello, continual motor skills issues, nice to meet you)

And we were poor. So I had a second hand mitt...not so much a big deal but it was a
RIGHT HANDED CATCHERS MITT.

Somewhere, in some universe, my parents equally decided that a vision & hearing impaired child with motor skills issues would be perfect for baseball. Then to make the endeavor more interesting, lets give her the wrong handed glove and the wrong styled glove.

I picture them sending me off to the game, waving "Bye! Good luck with that!"

To my credit, I persevered. Persevered from the way, way, out outfield. Using one hand to catch then dropping the mitt and "throwing" with the left hand. I was a crappy hitter because well, let's see...oh wait, get it? "See"? I couldn't effing SEE the ball.

Can't catch, can't throw, can't bat. What do I do? I was one hell of a benchwarmer.

(it's okay to laugh...I do, now)

Is there someone else out there?

I found another good idea from the Wishcake Blog...she suggests to go back to the beginning of your blog and choose something from the first two months that seems like it represents what your blogging is about. As I frequently discuss and dissect my relationships, I thought this was a good one to repost.

Enjoy!

from November 9, 2005 Post #2



A few weeks ago, I had lunch with an old friend. She's been in the same kinds of relationships as me: failed marriage, lost love, and now happily married. I'm beginning to think that it's not just coincidence that we're friends with similar pasts. I think it's just the way that all human relationships must be. Everyone has heard the term "starter marriage." It seems to apply to more people than less.

Anyway, she recently came nose-to-nose with her past and had a case of the ... not quite "what-if's"...but perhaps the "what-might-have-beens." She seemed to be fighting off the "Could this be real? Have I made a huge mistake?" as well. Always fun.

As the conversation progressed the subject & existence of the Perfect Man was raised. Is there such a thing? We both don't think so.

I'm more black & white: there's no such thing as perfect. It's simply not possible. She's more along the lines of "Near-perfection."

Essentially, we both believe you can't have it all in one person.

Her example: "He's great! He just gets me. We're soulmates" versus "He's okay but the physical chemistry is HOT!"

I happen to believe that you can't find ALL of the qualities you wish for in one person, be it just a friend or a lover. It seems not possible.

We also discussed that sometimes it seems when there is great physical chemistry, the personal side of the relationship is out of balance. We've all been there, I'm supposing, where it feels great but yet, it just doesn't work, there's no connection. A similar scenario is when you get away from the "hot" relationship and think "What the hell was I doing with That Guy!?!?!"

The other side is the Friend Zone. You're great friends, you love to hang out with him but the physical side just isn't there. This, by the way, only exists in Girl World. Boys are whores and they readily admit it. (:-D

But then there's The ONE.
Does everyone have one of those? I'm assuming so.
For me, well, he shall remain nameless to protect the somewhat innocent.
For my friend it's the guy who has recently reappeared.

But there's always the one that got away, the one that does seem perfect. Everyone, woman or man, has one of those.

Another part of the discussion included this:

It can be argued that we can't POSSIBLY be happily married if we hold another man in ... special regard? (that sounds so formal, hmmm) That we're just waiting for the next best thing - or old thing, be it as it may. But I don't think so.

I think people love each person differently and each person is different in that relationship.
I was a different person with my former husband and with my former boyfriends than I am now. Would those relationships be different with this current version of me? *shiver* Let's not go there. (:-D

So, on a different plane, Kevin and I had a very similar discussion but we used the word "settling." As in, everyone settles to a certain degree, for varying reasons, good and bad. It's not necessarily a poor reflection on either mate but more of a decision to cope. I am not the leggy brunette calendar girl who cooks and he's not the one who shall remain nameless.

Everyone has an ideal but ideals are rarely attainable so it boils down to more of a "Hey, you're cute, you think I'm great, I think you're great, let's get married and see what happens."

I guess I'm just putting this out into the universe for more pondering. I would be curious to hear anyone's thoughts. Is there such a thing as a soulmate? Does everyone settle to a certain degree?

T-Shirt Salesman

Late last night I was doing laundry, because that's how I roll. I was putting Kevin's shirts into the washer, checking each one for stains as he comes home pretty grubby most days.

He has those bright fluorescent shirts that you see construction workers wear, and he rocks them. But lately, he's been wearing some of his racing shirts also. This only makes me happy as he has eleventy hundred of them.

But this shirt punches me in the gut every time. I can't decide if I'm pleased that he wears it or if I want to go hide it away now that he's not home.

My friend Brad, you've heard of him before, lost his seven year old son in 2004 to a freak household accident. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever experienced. There is just no way to console your friend when they have lost a child.

The last time I saw Casey was during fireworks, at the Speedway. Brad used to be a sprint car racer back in the day. While he was really, really good, I couldn't bear to watch him race. If you've ever watched circle track racing, you get an idea. Now make the cars open wheel and on clay. I was so proud of him, I just couldn't watch him race. It was too scary for me.

Brad, Casey, and his mom visited us before and after the racing and fireworks show. Brad also used to help with fireworks and has always been one of my biggest supporters. It was tradition that he would come visit after a show to see how we were doing. A show didn't feel finished until I had talked to Brad.

My brother described Casey the best: "He was like a little walking Discovery Channel." Casey was constantly talking, asking questions, posing ideas and on the move. He was such a great little guy. He was very much Brad's son. Everything that I loved about Brad was two-fold in Casey.

This was the first year that Casey was old enough to understand what he was looking at and what we had been doing with the fireworks. After satisfying his curiosity about the fireworks, Brad was telling us about how he now had t-shirts. Casey interjected that he was selling them to everyone. (as his dad shakes his head over him and mouths "No, you can have them.")

Casey had little price sheets he had written on notebook paper in pencil. He handed them to all of us and explained where we could find him later if we wanted to buy shirts. It was one of the doggone cutest things ever.

I don't know who was more proud that night, Casey of his dad or Brad of his son. When I think of Casey, I always remember that night.

My Brad shirt is in my cedar chest. It's only been worn once and that was to Casey's memorial just a few months later after that show. Meanwhile, Kevin wears his occasionally. His little nod to Casey and to Brad, I think.

The Benefit of Holding a Hose for Hours

With the cool rock garden comes about an hours worth of watering. Two different hoses and only one with the cool sprayer. It's a process. I resent this process most times. Have I mentioned that I'm 5' 3" tall? and that the incline is about 10 feet above my head? So, chances of my staying dry during this process are slim and Slim left town.

The weather has been off and on, after 29.75 days of no rain so I haven't been as diligent about watering. When the flowers cursed at me as I walked by today, I figured I'd better water.

I'm standing out there watering, watering, watering. Soon my mind begins to drift and I begin to feel my body relax. Before I know it, I feel dare-I-say peaceful. The birds are singing, I can hear Kevin puttering around in his shop, Missy is sleeping on the deck and Lucky is chasing unseen intruders. It's perfectly lovely.

Sadly, I forget this every time before I water. The feeling is always forgotten by the time I have to go out again. Luckily for me, it always returns. And I always appreciate it.

We, as humans, tend to get so wrapped up in our own stuff that we forget to look around. Watering makes me take the time to look around. And it's beautiful out.

An Old Man Trying to Get into Heaven Now

The dad I have now is nothing like the dad I had growing up. Having come from a dysfunctional family, I have no idea if this is normal or not. I assume so, I suppose.

I've made no illusion about my dad in the past. I've told you stories...he's an alcoholic, he doesn't necessarily like children or families. He was a mostly absent father.

The dad I have now actually holds conversations and expresses gratitude. He attends the granddaughters events without complaint. He's sober. It is as if he made a list of what he used to be and changed everything categorically.

This is, by no means, a complaint. But after 40 years of a stilted relationship at best, I'm having to rethink everything. Assumptions can no longer be made. Habits have to be broken. Defenses have to be dropped.

It hit me during Apie's graduation. He sat with my mom and the other brother in the area designated for grandparents. Kevin nudged me and gestured. "Look at your dad, he's grinning ear to ear." And he was, happily taking pictures...another thing he's never done. It was alternately heart-warming and heart-breaking.

I can appreciate the change but there is an inner adolescent that is silently shouting "Who are you and where were you twenty years ago?"

I am trying to focus on the happiness of the change. But like acknowledging it, there is also the bittersweet knowledge that this is temporary. This has only occurred because he's dying.

So, here we go. The last year can perhaps make up for the first 40 years.

Four Hours and Fifteen Minutes

Today Kevin & I went to get our Enhanced Drivers Licenses. For those of you not living in Washington State, these licenses are in lieu of a passport & enables travel into Canada. We've put it off for over six months. Now Kevin is crewing on a racecar, oh, next weekend so we were working on a deadline.

We arrived at 8:15 AM, the office opens at 8:30 AM and we were about #20. YIKES. And yes, I will hear for the rest of my natural born life how Kevin was right and we should have gotten there earlier.

Kevin & I have what I call bad audience karma. We invariably sitt next to the tool that screams at the players, sings along with the band, etc. Today was no exception.

If your son is named Corbin and he's college age, overweight, with red uncut hair, apparently never showers, and has no freaking boundaries whatsoever, I'm sorry but your son is a massive TOOL.

As we are standing in line he approaches. Just on appearance alone I believe the entire group groaned "ah, feck". He makes noise so that we all realize that he's arrived.

He's with a normal appearing, quiet guy whose motives we questioned all morning.

Tool boy was in line for a minute when he says loudly "Oh my God, I don't have my paperwork!"
The friend sighs and gives him the car keys. Off he goes to the car and we remain, praying that he can't find his paperwork.
He returns, he can't find it, I do a happy dance in my head. His friend says "Check the trunk."

Sadly, his paperwork is in the trunk. We are all sorely disappointed.

The doors open and a person is directing everyone where to go. She hands everyone that is getting their EDL a sheet that very specifically and clearly details what a person needs.

The person explains to the entire crowd how the process works. Tool Boy raises his hand.
Of. Course. He. Does.

Turns out he doesn't have the proper documentation on a variety of levels. We are momentarily relieved but he decides to try it anyway. OMG.

We sit next to the wall with only one row of chairs in front of us. Tool Boy and friend sits right in front of us. Ah feck.

He can't sit still, he can't be quiet. He is That Guy, that guy who thinks he's the funniest, smartest guy in the entire state. Clearly he is not. He hasn't showered, his clothes were disheveled At Best. I don't believe he was mentally ill. I think he was truly just obnoxious.

Kevin and I quietly begin sarcastically commenting, in hopes that this will keep us from killing him. We really needed our enhanced licenses after all.

Tool Boy starts mocking the process of the Dept of Licensing. We have all done this but most of us don't do it loudly and before we've been helped. The Genius also begins throwing around words like "terrorist" "Bombing" "killing" Brilliant.

We hear him ask his friend "How many girlfriends have I had"
I reply "I'm guessing ZERO." Snickers begin.

His phone rings and he answers it. Kevin says "It has to be his mom because no one else would call that guy."

At one point he had to go out the car. We all reveled in the relative silence and stillness. Sadly, he returns. About twenty minutes later a DOL worker announces to the crowd that he found car keys in the actual car door.

Yes, you guessed it. He left the keys in the car, in a high crime neighborhood. This is the only time we saw the friend react. He was not happy.

At one point Tool Boy begins making noises for the sake of noise. I finally looked at him and said in my best teacher tone "PLEASE. STOP."
He turned, looking surprised. "I'm sorry" he says reflexively.
"Yeah." I answer, editing.

Kevin runs sees someone he knows and they chat. His friend returns to his seat and I wondered why he didn't just sit next to us. Clearly, I didn't think this through. The entire room was avoiding this guy.

Oh, the Ipod ear buds! He kept swinging them around his finger. People have glared, people have muttered, people have moved away until finally he hits about a seven-year-old boy in the head. NICE.

Kevin had a girl on his right and I had a girl on my left. Soon, all four of us are mocking him. Kevin's girl notices the ATM and says "I'm seriously considering withdrawing cash and offering it to him if he'll stand outside." We were All In on that idea.

The couple in front of us begin in our mocking of this tool. Now there are six of us commenting. I'm sure his friend could hear but none of us cared. Tool Boy became a common denominator among us and we bonded, much like hostages.

He begins making noise again and the girl to my left says "Excuse me" He turns and looks confused. "You are Really Loud." she says. "Sorry" he says, again. At this point, he actually quiets down.

One by one we all get called up for the first step of processing. One by one people begin to leave. Except Tool Boy and Friend and no one will sit next to him. Finally, a mother and teenaged son sit down next to him. We ponder how to let them know of their grave mistake because it quickly becomes apparent. Every time the teenager has an opportunity to move his chair away he takes it. The chair went from being flush to having about one feet separation. Tool Boy does not notice. And yes, he's swinging his ear buds around again.

Finally, they call him up and we all think "It's over. They're going to turn him away." A few minutes pass and he returns "We can be back in thirty minutes, let's go." And it's blissfully quiet.

But he returns. dammit. And it wasn't thirty minutes.

Kevin's friend returns and actually sits down to chat.

Just in time to see Tool Boy take a big ol' swipe at his nose. Brett is laughing uncontrollably and is making grossed out noises. Tool boy is oblivious. Kevin starts to giggle, that kind where you're not sure you're going to be able to stop.

Finally they call us for our final interview and we get to leave. As we're leaving, they recalled him. I'm hoping they deported him to somewhere. Anywhere.

Four hours fifteen minutes of our lives that we'll never get back.

But we can travel to Canada. And if there's a God, Tool Boy can't.

Notes that Will Never Be Sent

Browsing through the blogroll, I came across this post:

http://www.yourwishcake.com/2009/06/on-notes-that-will-never-be-sent.html

Go read it & then come back. I'll wait............


What an amazing thing to do! Right? I am usually a lurker and rarely post comments but was tempted to do so for this post. Most of the comments were "I'm going to do this too!" So, I'm tagging along.

However, mine are going to be greeting card in length:

1. I realize now that we were never truly friends. I feel like I've wasted a lot of time. It's a relief not to be friends with you. I can understand this now only because so much time has passed.

2. I am sorry it didn't work out. I understand now that I used you on some unconscious level to get out. It wasn't intentional. But you were loved.

3. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if our relationship continued. What would my life be like now? Sadly, I know it would never have worked out as well as my life has now.

4. My mother taught me not to hate. But I hate you. There are few people that I say that about/to. There is nothing redeemable about you and I wish I hadn't met you.

5. I believe in another life, we would be together.

Dirt Cup

Today would have been my 21st wedding anniversary had I stayed married to Michael. It's difficult to even imagine now, that I was ever married to anyone other than Kevin.

Watching Apie graduate from high school, I realize how young I was when I got married the first time. I was 19. At her age, I was already planning a wedding. It is simply inconceivable now.

Different memories pop up now when I think of the first marriage.

I had a roommate, Jeff, whom I adored. I still miss him. There was zero romantic interest in each other, we just were really good friends. Any of my Jeff memories are fun and funny.

When I got married, many people were not supportive of the marriage. I unfortunately didn't know this at the time because they didn't step up.

One former boyfriend, professing his undying love for me years later, said that he nearly stood up during the "Does anyone know of any reason this man or woman should not be married."
I wish he would have stood up. It probably would have stopped the wedding and WOW, wouldn't that be the best story ever?

My friend Brad was crewing on a racecar that night. He attended the wedding but only the wedding and left the moment it was over in order to get back to the racetrack. He was wearing his crew-whites (white jeans & team t-shirt) to the wedding, much to my amusement.

I was nearly late for that wedding. My BFF at the time let me sleep in...sleep late and we nearly missed the photography portion of the day. My breakfast/lunch that day was a Happy Meal. I think now that she let me sleep purposefully, hoping to stop the wedding.

I wish I had the audio to the ceremony. The videographer messed it up somehow (omen?) and there was only audio. You can hear me sing-songing my vows:
"To have and to Hold
From this day forward
forever and ever"

But the audio wouldn't pick up the frequent gestures from the Pastor to look at Michael and not him....also, not a good omen.

As a person that believes in signs, I can see PLENTY of them now. They were everywhere, but I just ignored them.

So, this weekend, I remember my wedding. Not so much the marriage but the wedding. All in all it was a fun day. I have some great pictures and my friends have some great stories.

The reason this is called Dirt Cup is that is the name of the big race Brad was crewing on that year. It's the biggest race of the year here in Washington State for open wheel Sprint car racing.
And every year, it happens this weekend.

I should have gone to Dirt Cup instead.

Blogging About Not Blogging

I guess perhaps it's the weather change but I've had a bit of Not Much to Say recently. So here is a tour of my brain:

As I sit here, I'm thinking about:

I want Nathan Lane's scream in The Birdcage as my ringtone.





Or that ADD has interfered with the laundry and I stopped midway because I thought of a topic. Here is the evidence:



I could tell you about how Satan (the nieces "mother") was in a crosswalk in front of me this morning and I didn't run her over. Award, please.

Ambie graduated eighth grade today. Now it's onto high school. We met her "Boyfriend" today too. Very momentous.

(this is Brother Dear & Ambie...)

Or that my dad is having a scan tomorrow and it is perhaps the last one. This isn't good news but not unexpected news.


Or that my cousin Tracy celebrated Father's Day last Sunday and no one noticed she had the wrong day. It made me realize that it is this Sunday and I'm out of ideas for gifts. And really, what do you get a dying man? (it's okay to laugh at that question, I did)

That I forget every single year that May & June are present-heavy months as there are a lot of birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries. One would think I would figure this sh*t out.

During the plague, I lost a little weight. Explain to me why my shoes are too big and I am having issues reaching the pedals in the truck. Did I get shorter too? WTH? All of my shirts are too big also...I'm not happy. Well, happy but frustrated.

With that, I can always get clothing at work. Check out this gem:




That while I suck at Geography and Classic Literature, I can score 100% on the "How Well Do You Know Forrest Gump" trivia game on Facebook.

But it seems that I'm in the same boat as a few fellow blogger friends. So, forgive us if our posts have lapses and are less than stellar. It is summertime after all.

If I had a Million Dollars = Blogger Edition

If I had a million dollars, I would:

Visit Swistle weekly.

Help Bea finish her laundry....every week.

Build Swistles BlogHer house for all of us to enjoy!

Build a giant cat condo for the cat rescue where Quinn volunteers .

Pay for Jess's new house wish list

Go volunteer regularly at Bethany's school

Visit Dyn in London and have her teach me how to cook!

Take Terry to a Cubs game

Build J her cheese dungeon (I know that's not the name of it but it sounds funny)

Just follow Bloggess around with a camera & microphone...just for the entertainment value.

So, blogger friends, what would you do with a million dollars & your blogger friends?

Stay at Home Wife

Kevin and I were talking about life in general the other day and he posed the assumption that most/many women would prefer to stay home now versus ten-twenty years ago when women working was becoming mainstream. That essentially, the bloom was off the rose. I told him that I wasn't sure, I could only speak for me.

I would prefer to be home, this has been no secret. Kevin would prefer that I was home as well.
I've found that I'm nearly busier when I'm home than when I'm working. Family suddenly needs you, you see friends more regularly, hobbies reappear.

In fact, I've often questioned what the hell I was thinking when I returned to work. I still question that from time to time. Well, I was actually getting a little bored and I do have bigger goals that do require me to contribute toward their achievement.

Now that summer has returned and our lives have become busier, I'm longing for the summer I had off in 2006. Someday I will be home again. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

My BFF C is childless as well. Like me, she would rather be home. Actually, she would rather be traveling than anything else. BFF D is unemployed right now and seems in no hurry to return to work. This seems to prove Kevin's point.

When I was a teenager, I really didn't have dreams of a career. I was going to get married and be a preschool teacher. I did both of those things and now I'm wondering "Now what?" The women in my life as I was growing up were stay at home wives & mothers. I guess that's normal for me.

Wave a magic wand and I would be home full-time. That's my goal. I don't have a plan or a timeline. When it happens, it happens.

In the meanwhile, I'd rather be sitting on my deck, in the sun, with the dog and plunking away on the laptop.

Someday.

The Story of When I Worked with Lucifer

(and I will try very hard to not present this through the Bitter Filter)

I didn't know that I was working with Lucifer at the time. Certainly I wouldn't have continued had I fully realized that it (or she) was never going to get better. Not say that I wasn't warned...multiple times. But I was so "in it" at the time that I couldn't see it.

I began at the school as a pre-k teacher. After one year, I was surprisingly offered a position of Program Director, supervising the staff & program. I took the position reluctantly because I enjoyed teaching but like Kevin said "What? are you nuts turning down a better job?"

Sadly about six months into that position, Lucifer had to take a leave of absence as her husband was terminally ill. This will be the last time you feel badly for her. Trust me. I'm not a heartless bitch...just a bitch...sometimes.

During her leave of absence, we became friends as we hung out at her house regularly doing stuff for the school and then socially. I helped care for her youngest son, three years old at the time. I was on friendly terms with her family and friends. We exchanged gifts, emails, and did the friend thing. I helped set her up on a date with her now husband, whom I was also friends with. We were friends, beyond just co-workers.

Anyway....
Thrown into the water was I. I went from a pre-k teacher to running a non-profit organization & school in little over one year. This lasted for about two years. With virtually little skills but lots of stubbornness, I managed not to sink the whole thing.

Finally, Lucifer returned to the school. In ten years of our partnership, the school grew from a dumpy little daycare-like school to a nationally accredited model school.

I gave up my life for that school and not just while she was on leave. I regularly worked over 40 hours and volunteered many more. There was a never a true day off because in the age of cell phones, I was always reachable. I had all manners of telephone calls, at all hours, for all reasons. At the racetrack? Yes. During fireworks set-up? Yes. While closing my great-aunts house? Yes. While at my parents house for an event? Yes. While on vacation? Yes. While Kevin was sick & having treatment? Yes.

Once I got a call at 11:45 at night from a staff member telling me she had her period and couldn't come to work the next morning. I'm sure I could think of more instances but I'm getting irritated just remembering.

"Why did you allow this to happen?" you ask. Simple, if I didn't Lucifer would make horrible decisions that ruined my whole day, or have tantrums that I wasn't accessible at all hours.
It was actually easier for me to deal with the stupid phone calls. As time passed, everything became more & more my responsibility because she was less & less interested in working. However, things went more smoothly when she was gone so it didn't bother me much at the time.

On the school front, staff tends to cycle in groups. We were in a downward cycle of young inexperienced teachers mixed with older, "We've always done it this way" teachers. The accreditation and licensing was due for renewal, in addition to whatever crisis had beset that particular day. There was a lot going on. A lot of change. Then there was the new program director.

Young, inexperienced, attractive, and Not Bright. Lucifer hired her while I was on vacation, without my input. (nice huh?) She presented well but scratch the surface and OMG she was an idiot. She was a single mom who was used to getting her way and considered being a single mom as a Free Pass out of everything. But Lucifer defended her no matter how badly she screwed up. With retrospect, I see now that they are very similar people.

2005 was when everything started to fall apart for me on a personal level. My personal life was a melodrama like that of Erica Kane. In the mix of things, I became dis-satisfied with the job but was so in the trenches that I didn't really notice.

Through all of the drama of family & friends dying, friends in jail for heinous crimes, ill parents and husband, building a new house, my own little health crises, I still worked. Work was a constant. Did my attitude suck? Probably, most certainly. How could it not? But I did the best I could. This is where I needed Lucifer to step up. This is where it didn't happen.

During those years, I took very little time off. This was a huge mistake on my part.
I worked after having an ultrasound on my liver...effin' hurt like hell, in case you're curious...and a biopsy. I felt like I had no choice. Lucifer was fine with it. She didn't have to be there, that's all that mattered to her. A good boss - and friend - would have never allowed it.

Lucifer was great at presenting a pleasant public front. But the moment that she wasn't in the spotlight, the mask came off and Holy Hell, duck for cover. Toward the end, she spent less and less time at the school. This was actually a blessing. Things were much more pleasant without her.

Despite all of this, I loved my job. The families & kids were mostly great. The staff was mostly great. The board was a good group of people. I had good relationships with other administrators. There were connections that went back ten years that I couldn't bear to sever.

Also, there was always the dangling carrot of "more" offered. More wage, easier job, better schedule, etc. Lucifer was going to stop working soon and I knew I would have new opportunities when that time arrived. So, I white-knuckled it through.

Have I mentioned that I went three years without a raise? And that there were teachers that made more than I did? I even forfeited a raise one year so the staff could get a well deserved increase when state budgets were cut. Yeah. Nice..

But the more I gave, the more Lucifer wanted. It was simply never enough, never good enough.
Ignored was the fact that at whatever level the bar was set, we reached it. Or that she was spending less & less time at work yet everything was still running smoothly.

Surely I was thanked for my hard work, right? Um. No. Big Fat No. Hell to the No.

More, More, More she wanted. She was pissed when I wanted to go home ...thirty minutes LATE...on my 10th anniversary. Pissed when I didn't stay for a telephone training after spending the night in the ICU with my father figure when he had a stroke. These kind of examples I can list all day. Exhausting.

Meanwhile the friendship had waned. The time of being close had passed. She had remarried, had a stepdaughter and moved on.

So, with no warning, I was let go. The reason was convoluted, boiled down to attitude and the need for "change". No warning, no offer of compromise, Nothing. 12 years gone in one sentence. There was no acknowledgment of my leaving to anyone: staff or families. No opportunity for closure. Nothing. It was as if I never existed.

She, it seems, had it very tidily worked out. The cute yet stupid program director took my position after I left. She lasted SIX MONTHS. She left saying "It was really hard. Everyone hated me." Um, YEAH. Duh. It's the nature of the job, not necessarily the person.
Little Miss Thing just knew that if I was gone things would be great. Not so much.

Not to say that I was this awesome administrator with no flaws. My attitude was not at it's best, how could it be? This is where one depends on a boss - and a friend - to say "WTH is going on? How can I help?"

But I do look back and see that I have staff who still keep in contact, that I am friends with even. I still see staff and families from the school who greet me warmly. I couldn't have been so awful.

After I left the job, I would occasionally get chatty little emails from Lucifer. I deleted them without response. She acted as if nothing had happened and that as a friend, she had failed miserably. Finally, the emails stopped completely.

It's been three years and I hadn't seen her. This is quite a feat, working in a small city and working in the even smaller non-profit sector. We also have mutual friends . So, I wasn't surprised per se when she appeared here at work. I was surprised however that I didn't heave the monitor, stapler, phone, and anything else I could get my hands on at her head while cursing and name calling profusely. I was the grown-up.

And again, she acted as if nothing had ever gone wrong. As if she didn't totally bail as a friend AND as a boss. But then, she is so the person that would say "But look at you NOW." As if she did me this tremendous favor.

Whatever.

Dear Miss Manners

A friend of mine recently asked for advice as to how to break up with a friend. YIKES.
I know this is a situation we've all had to face, including myself. I'm sure a Google Search would gather many suggestions however, this is much more fun.

And, yes, I'm assuming she's not talking about me. (:-D

Here's the original question:

OK so I have a problem. I have a friend who has pretty much veered into the passive/aggressive friend territory. As I am no longer a teenager I have no patience for passive/aggressive land. I want to break up with her but she is pretty integrated into my circle of friends and is now dating one of my friends. Suggestions?

Here was my initial suggestion:

Oh no. Breaking up with a friend is more difficult than breaking up with a boyfriend I think.

I've just faded into the woodwork in the past. Stop returning calls, being too busy for getting together until it naturally ends. Totally Ussy-Pay of me, I realize.

It sounds like a confrontation will be non-productive at best and damaging to other friendships at worst. And as much as Dear Abby et all recommend confrontation & honesty, I've found that it's not true. Most people aren't mature or open enough to deal with it.

Any help? it doesn't seem helpful. Let me think on it....

Her response was that she had already tried the disappearing tactic but it didn't work. It seems the person is someone she sees regularly while going about her normal life.

Then I said:
I guess just calling her on her sh*t when she does it. Think of something ahead of time to say when she does it. My nephew usually says an over-emphasized "WOW" when someone says something harsh. It's funny but also draws your attention to it.
Also, I have found myself saying "Oh. My. God. You did not just say that and mean it!!!!"

That was a suggestion I was given when dealing with someone I knew was flat out lying: just acknowledging it as it happens.

Either that or carry a spray bottle to spray her with whenever she does it. bwahahaaaaaa.

So, dear blogger friends, do you have any ideas or suggestions? We've all been through this, probably on both sides. How did you deal with a situation like this? Post a comment or a link to your blog!

The Heart Wants What the Heart Wants

Trying to control what you feel in your heart for someone is much like trying to box water. Just when you think you've tamped it down, closed the box, and shoved it into a dark corner...The box tips over, spilling it's contents.

A few milestone dates have passed and it usually makes me a little wistful. This year has been no exception.

The thing about grief...grief as in not just loss from death but lost love or lost friendship...is that a person can never predict when it will appear. Like Sneaky Little Bastard, it sneaks up on you; staying for days, weeks or hours. Most times a person can predict a trigger. Dates and photographs seem to create struggles for me. Sometimes it just shows up unannounced.

There is no rationalization, logic, or consoling. Much like a toddler, I will want what is lost to the point of irrationality. "But I WANT it." I want the friendship. I want the intimacy, the connection. The history.
I just f&*king want it.

As much as it simply is not possible, the heart wants what the heart wants.

Picture of the Day

Mt Baker from Chuckanut Drive in Bow, WA.

Quote of the Day

The soul attracts that which it secretly harbors, that
which it loves, and also that which it fears. It reaches
the height of its cherished aspirations. It falls to the
level of its unchastened desires - and circumstances
are the means by which the soul receives its own.
--James Allen, As A Man Thinketh

With apologies to my Brother's Neighbors

In the theme of no good deed shall go unpunished, I offer this story:

Before going out to my parents the other night I had to stop at Brother Dear's house to pick up tickets for Apie's graduation. They have a dog that has run of the fenced backyard. I thought "I'll be nice and play ball for a minute before I go"

The freaking dog got out. She shoved her way past me and ran down the road. As Kevin says "I'm pretty sure she told you to eff off as she ran."

I followed her down the street, her ball in my hand in effort to coax her back to the house. Yeah, that so wasn't happening.

I called Brother Dear and asked for advice. It seems that the dog takes tours of the neighborhood then returns rather willingly. So I walked the U-shaped road and returned to his house to wait. About a city block in length, kind of like a cul-de-sac. I'm occasionally calling her name and trying to get her to come back to no avail. Finally, I just sat in the truck and muttered...both at myself for losing her and the dog for running.

She did come back and go into her yard without my assistance....about fifteen minutes later. Oh, I didn't mention that it was the hottest day ever, about 89 degrees.

She ran around her yard, noticed her ball that I had frustratedly thrown into the yard, then picked it up as if to say "Hey! Let's play Ball!!!!"

"NO. I. Am. Not. Playing. Ball. You. effing. Dog" I replied. Then followed up with "I apologize to any of the neighbors for the cursing...."

The "best" part? My nieces are never allowed to name a dog Ever Again. Because the dog's name?

COOKIE DOUGH.

Now re-read the story and you'll get the idea of the level of irritation AND embarrassment.

Full Circle

Last night was Apie's graduation. We made it through with just brave tears and not all-out sobbing so that's good.

Kevin & I sat with Brother Dear and Satan...Apie's mom...so that was cozy. A few people away was one of Kevin's oldest & dearest friends whose daughter was also graduating so that was nice.
We all bonded together in this moment, sharing laughter & tears as we watched our kids step into adulthood.

There's nothing like going to a high school graduation for a LOST-like time warp. Flashbacks of graduations past bounced through my head all evening.

Brother Dear is ten years older than I am. He graduated in 1977 and I remember it like it was yesterday, even though I was only about seven years old then. In 1977, Queen was HUGE. They played "We Will Rock You" very loudly while the crowd & graduates stomped, clapped, and sung along. It. was. awesome.

And my dad...who Haaaaatttteeessss rock & roll music...was not amused.

Then, the actual theme song was "Do You Know Where You're Going To?" which is a perfect high school graduation song. I remember having chills listening and watching him graduate. Especially poignant knowing he was leaving for the service in two weeks for a three year tour.

The theme song for my graduation...in 1987...was "Don't Forget Me When I'm Gone." Lame.

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah.

The theme song...which Apie sung in choir during graduation...was "If You're Out There" by John Legend. Perfect.

As Apie crossed the stage we clapped and yelled and swelled with pride. "You did it." I told Brother Dear, while not making eye contact lest we begin bawling right there. "I am lucky" he replied. Well, luck only has a little to do with it.

It would be nice to bottle the excitement and enthusiasm that high school graduates emanate. We lose that so quickly as adults.

Single Dad

My eldest niece is graduating this week. It is simply amazing to me how time passes. I'm having a difficult time reconciling this grown-up with the tow headed little toddler that was here just a minute ago.

Apie is going to be eighteen in a few months. She'll be graduated from high school and beginning college in the fall. She's made it this far with very few bumps along the road; no more than teenage melodrama and failing math. We are so lucky and we know it.

You see my brother is a single dad. He has raised the girls nearly on his own most of their lives.

The nicest thing I can say about their mother is that she has mental illness. Everything else is R-rated. She was married to Brother Dear for about four years. She had two young boys that my brother raised as his own at the time. (to give you a hint of who she is: their names are Stormy and Smokey. I am not kidding.)

She left my brother for someone less viable and took all of the kids, severing any contact between my brother and the boys and using the girls as pawns. Brother Dear often went for weeks with seeing - or even knowing where were - his girls.

One day we got a call from him "I have the girls." With no warning, no preparation, nothing, Satan just handed them over. She signed off custody rights and went truck driving to the deep South with her boyfriend du jour.

Apie was four and Ambie was two. Brother Dear hardly knew Ambie because he'd spent such little time with her. And the boys? Gone, sent back to their paternal grandmother even though Brother Dear offered to take them as well.

Oh the girls were a mess. I called them The Wild Things. Uncut and ratted hair that had to be cut short in order to salvage. Bad teeth, poor hygiene, little social skills. They had apparently been raised by wolves. Apie was a "little mother" as she had been in charge of Ambie for so long that she didn't even think about it. That was one of our biggest struggles with her: making her realize that she was a kid and not a mom.

Brother Dear tucked and rolled. He switched shifts at Boeing. He got insurance for them and hooked them up with all the right doctors. Apie had glasses and eventually braces while Ambie skimmed by with just having some baby teeth removed and some digestive issues that she grew out of. He took time off to get them enrolled in proper schools and get them caught up. He let them spend time with their grandparents whom they barely knew.

And now. Now!

They live in a house they own and never have to move until they marry or want to. They've gone to the same schools. They're both in choir and band and sports and clubs and church and the list goes on and on. Things happen for a reason.

Brother Dear knows their friends, knows their teachers, he is not the perfect dad but he's trying. He learned to be a dad as they learned to be daughters. He is the first one they run to when things go wrong. He bought Apie a car and he's helping pay for college. Apie wants to be a psychologist. While Ambie is a freshman in the Fall and the fun really beings. Our Melodrama Queen. She's going to give us a run for our money fo sho.

But I'm not worried really because apparently there's nothing Brother Dear can't handle. He's a single Dad of teenage girls. You can't scare him.

Ghosts of Christmases Past

The month of May has been a trippy one. I am so glad it's done.

Facebook opens all kinds of doors to the past. I've seen pictures of an ex-boyfriend and the girl that Michael slept with while we were still married. One of my friends is friends with a guy from high school that left flowers & notes in my locker for two weeks straight then pulled a Martin Blank and disappeared off the face of the earth.

Yesterday I avoided an ex-boyfriend in the grocery store. It freaked me right the hell out and I'm not sure why. Although I am aware that I forgot half the things I needed because of it.

But that's not the interesting part. This is:

At work we had a United Way tour for the allocations committee last week-ish.

I was working on my computer and not paying much attention as people began to arrive. Suddenly I hear "Well Howdy Stranger"

Ah, sh*t.

I glance up to see my former boss standing there. Strangely and much to my surprise, I didn't throw office supplies or the computer monitor at her. I was able to react in a calm and non-reactive way: "Oh, hi." As if I didn't want to tell her to "Walk away. Now. No, really. Walk away."

But as J said "That would be bad. She's on the committee." But the mental image is entertaining for me so I'm keeping it.

She acted as if Nothing Bad Had Ever Happened.

I wonder what color the sky is in her world. Seriously.

She asked about Kevin and fam. I responded with benign, non-specific answers. She commented on my view from my desk. (which is pretty damn good) She chatted about how her kids are doing (whom I do miss terribly) and how her husband is (also whom I miss...we were friends)

Then she walked away. And I still didn't even throw things at her. Or make a face even. How very grown up I am.

Oh, but I thought it. I so thought it.

It's just who she is. She leaves this terrible wake in her path and has No Idea that she does it. Or chooses to have no idea, I'm not sure.

But now, I can cross that off my list. I've finally seen her and I didn't commit any crimes.

Whew!

Now I'm wondering who else I might bump into from my past. Although May is now over so perhaps I'm off the hook and the Ghost of Christmases Past have wandered off to bother someone else. I surely hope so.

Mocking Birds

Kevin is back to working six days a week, 10 -12 hours a day. It's been brutal.

The other night we were finishing dinner and everything was quiet. The weather has been beautiful lately so the windows and doors are all open. The birds were singing happily as the sun begins to set and it cools off.

"You hear those birds?" Kevin says. "Hear them? Bragging that they don't have to work tomorrow. Damn birds."

Piece of Crap Birthday Present

I did get Kevin a birthday present, but not without drama.

It took me so long to decide what to buy that I actually left work on his birthday to go buy it. He's wanted a new weed-whacker for a few years. I went to Home Depot and bought what I thought was a good one. Although I knew we'd probably need to bring it back because I know f&*k-all about weed-whackers. It's the thought that counts after all.

Again, I had to fib about his present as he arrived home just after I did. "Your dad said something was dropped off today, did you order something?" with slight irritation in my voice.
(well done me) "No" Kevin says "You know it was them" referring the parents.

Hidden in plain sight in the tool shed that we'd just spent a few hours cleaning last weekend was his weed-whacker. "It's from me, actually."

He opened it up and so far, so good. It had the components that he wanted. He began to put it together when he notices that the trigger is broken. *insert bad words here*

We made plans to go return it the following evening after Forced Family Fun. Kevin and I went over to the parents to tell them that I had bought him a total crap birthday present.

Dinner ran late on Friday and we hurried to Home Depot to return the present. We had thirty minutes until closing. Upon walking into the Returns department, Kevin points and exclaims "You did give me a total crap birthday present!"

Sitting in a bin was not one, but two broken weed-whackers that were exactly the same as the one I'd given him. The cashier admitted that they were crap and advised us to buy the other brand. It took forever to return it because the manager was Doogie Howser and in no hurry whatsoever. "My God, he's a puppy!" I exclaimed to the cashier. "He's going to need a nap and snack after walking all that way!" The cashier's eyes got big and then she broke out laughing. "I'm going to remember that." she said.

Finally, we went and checked them out. The only one that he wanted was $75 more. His mother had given him a check for $50 so he could "upgrade" his purchase so this was no big deal. He actually had the new one in his hand when he notices that it doesn't have a feature that he MUST HAVE. We look and it's an option for $30 more. Of course it is.

He considers and wonders and considers. Finally, I just said "How about we look at Sears?"

We looked at his watch and he had ten minutes to get there before they closed. We spent a minute considering whether or not that's a good idea when we practically ran out of the store. The Sears is at the mall, nearly five minutes away.

He drove and we were stuck in traffic (okay, okay, my shortcut wasn't a good idea after all)
It's now 8:55 pm.

I planned ahead: "You pull up and run in, I'll park the truck" And he did.

By the time I got the truck parked, they locked the doors. I couldn't get in. I just giggled because I had the money. They had to let me in. But I glanced at the doors and I realized that they weren't fully locked. I pulled on the handle and it gave, so I shook it and it popped open!!

One of the cashiers turned as I was walking past and looked at me like WTF but I just smiled cheerily and kept walking.

Kevin was talking to a young girl cashier when I approached. He was just about to give up when she called over to another cashier. "I'll be right there!" we heard him call back.

Click. The first set of lights went out and we began giggling.

The other cashier came over and was super-friendly and helpful. "Well, don't buy this one because it's JUUUUNNNKKKK."

Now we hear the announcement overhead: "Sears is now closed. Please bring your purchases to the store or return tomorrow." We giggled again and Kevin offered to come back the next day.
Super Cool Cashier Guy was all "Don't worry about it."

Kevin's all ready to buy the Craftsman one when he realizes it doesn't have the feature he wanted either. The cashier explained that it was basically dead technology and none of the new ones would have that feature. Kevin persevered "Can I buy one from the catalog?"
The poor cashier rephrased the answer like three times before Kevin finally gave up.

I told him later "It was as if you were That Guy that didn't want to give up his 8-Track."

As we were paying, the second set of lights went off. These people are serious. The Store is Closed.

$100 more than the original purchase later and we're walking out the door. But not really because now we're locked in. Insert "Career Opportunities" movie references here. The cashier took us out the proper door which was on the other side of the store, making jokes the entire time.

Kudos to this guy. It was Friday night, sunny and he had every reason to tell us to piss off but he was great about the whole thing.

This is just another example of how Kevin and I shouldn't be allowed to run our own lives. $200 in less than ten minutes, $100 over the original budget and After the store closed.

Hallmark Moment

Kevin's birthday was this week. He's usually kind of anti-birthday, not vain about his age, but not wanting any extra attention.

I mentioned earlier this week not to expect greatness from his birthday present because he hadn't asked/wished for anything and I don't think I could top the barbecue I gave him last year.

Wait, I have to tell you this story really quick:
Last year, before Kevin's birthday, his dad bought a new barbecue. Oh for the love of all things holy, there was whining and wistfulness over his dad's barbecue. Finally, I had Kevin's parents go down while we were at work and buy one. They brought it home and the Nephew put it together on the deck before we got home.
After work I raced home to try to get home before Kevin. I was only like one minute ahead of him which gave me no time for a bow or an idea to surprise him. I had to improvise, quickly.

He got out of his car and was dragging tired. His Dad came ambling over and Kevin asked what was going on. As he's shooing the dog away, inspiration struck. I sighed heavily "The dogs broke the screen door, I can't get it to shut." (brand new screen door, at the time.)

The Dog was lucky she'd wandered away at this point. Kevin went into his shop and grabbed some tools and went stomping toward the deck. He was actually muttering when he looked up and spotted his shiny new barbecue. "Oh....hey...." he says with reverence. Nice moment.

Okay...meanwhile....back on topic:

His parents were fussing because they couldn't think of what to get them. They gave him a card from Hallmark and said "We'll get you a gift later."

It's obvious that it's a singing card so we just knew it would be something silly.

He opens it and it plays

"Happy birthday to you" in his father's voice
"Happy birthday to you" in his mother's voice.
"Happy birthday...." father's voice
"We love you Randy..." mother's voice.
"Buh bye" ....father's voice (code: "what she said")

It was the nicest card ever. We both teared up listening.

I love to picture those two deciding what to say/sing, practicing and then recording it. Too doggone cute and sweet.

It's going to sit on the bookcase forever.