Welcome to my wonderful, terrible, soap opera sit-com world.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Thanks to whomever nominated another piece from the Great Googly Moogly on Blorgy. GGM has been in and out of the 5 highest rated pieces for a day now, and I really appreciate it. Thank you very much.
And to any readers who happen to find us here through Blorgy, welcome!
Friday, January 9, 2003. Making it legal.
Baby and Vanilla are both in loving homes. Update on Baby, he has come out from under the bed and has been the willing recipient of some love and spoiling and stinky wet food and is using his litter box. So he is adjusting to his new loving home and I'm very excited about that.
Last night I met Vanilla's new mom at the house and we sat for a long time and talked... she brought me pictures of her other cats and brought ME flowers for "trying so hard and so long to find loving homes for these wonderful babies." She's going to spoil him rotten, and it's exactly what he needs and deserves, so I'm happy.
I cried when I put him in the carrier and sent him off to live with Amanda, I think partially because they were starting to grow on me like my own babies and partially because in a way they were my last connection with Paula. But they're both in loving homes and I'll get updates from them since I now know where they live and am in contact with the new happy parents.
Thanks all, for being so supportive through that.
Oh, and my nail lady gave me a set of nails for free last night as a wedding present... my pinky fingernail which hasn't been able to hold a good nail for a couple of months finally has a new nail on it! Yay, me! I am the queen of the manicure!
Christmas day, day three of my trip to Pennsylvania, was also interesting. The family got me up before my nephew came down the stairs to see what Santa Claus left him, and I made sure to take plenty of pictures when it was possible.
The skies had opened up and gave us some snow overnight, so the patio and the green grass yard were covered with about an inch of white powder, still sparkling and dry and pretty in the morning light. I hadn't seen snow at Christmas, legitimately, since I was a little girl, and it brought back lots of memories of being in Alaska as a child. I had forgotten just how magical a little bit of snow can make a day, especially when you're not used to it. (living in the desert for 20 years will do that to you)
Matt, my nephew, came around the corner and stopped just outside the living room, and the look on his face was one of elation and excitement. His dad said, "So Matt, did Santa come?" and Matt shook his head and said, "No." Dad said, "Are you sure?"
And then the realization slowly crept into his two year old brain and he started running into the living room, shouting, "OH MY GOODNESS! OH MY GOODNESS!" But he's two years old, so it came out more like, "OHMEEDOODNESS! OHMEEDOODNESS!" It was so cute.
Now briefly, they overdid Santa Claus, as Santa brought a slot car track for ages six and up, lincoln logs which he had no interest in, a bunch of dumptrucks and diggers and cement mixer trucks, a rocking horse, and a marble game (where you build a big track for a marble, a'la Mousetrap, along with the toys for my 3 month old niece, so he had a hard time picking what to play with. Of course, we were all so tired after being up so late opening gifts and the like that not everything got assembled by Santa Claus, so when Matt wanted to play with something it became an issue of who was going to go downstairs to the basement and put it together. Story for another time, as mommies don't like it when daddies get out of stuff like "doing the rest of Christmas" because, "Matty wants his horse put together, I better go do that RIGHT NOW." Trouble in paradise?
So anyway, it was a joy to see him enjoy his Christmas, and probably the most fun of the morning was when they calmed him down enough to actually go through his stocking (which was literally three feet deep, a gigantic novelty stocking that they filled to overflowing). Every time he reached inside the stocking to pull something out, he would pull it out, look at it, announce what it is, and say, "ohmedoodness!" So, it was like this...
Mom: What do you have there, Matt?
Matt: Socks for Matt! Ohmedoodness!
Mom: What's next in there?
Matt: Cookie for Matt! Ohmedoodness!
Mom: Can you find anything else in there?
Matt: Spoons! Forks! Ohmedoodness!
He's really a little keeper, that one.
So later in the day after the joy of presents had died down and everyone was settling into their routine for the day, I decided to go downstairs (who am I kidding? I was ordered to go downstairs by a two year old) to play marbles. Which I did, gladly. And after a while of playing marbles with the TV on in the basement, SpongeBob SquarePants came on Nickelodeon, the TV channel of choice.
Matt and I sat on the couch (it was a SpongeBob about Santa Claus) and watched TV for a while, and he hopped down. He started walking towards the stairs, and I asked him where he was going. "Right back, Auntie Rose," he said. He can finally say my name, even if it doesn't quite come out right, and I just melted every time he said it, so I just nodded my head in that dumbfounded babyfied way adults get when they're melting from kids, and sat there and waited for him. A few minutes later I heard him coming down the stiars... "Back, Auntie Rose! Back!" He had two bowls, each of them with a handful of mixed nuts in them. And he handed one of the bowls to me.
"Snack," he said, "Snack for Auntie Rose and Matt." Yes, he's quite verbal for a two year old (he's actually 28 months) and for that I think my sister is doing a great job as a mom... but the kid brought me a bowl of nuts. So then we had to go through the nuts and he'd say, "This one Auntie Rose?" and I'd say, "That's an almond." So in this mixed nuts bowl there were white ones (blanched) and brown ones. He pulled out a blanched almond and I said, "That's an almond too," and he said, "Almond too? This almond!" and pulled out a brown one. I said, "There's white ones and brown ones, but they are both almonds," and then every time he pulled out a white one he'd say, "Almond! White ones too!"
Then after we were done with our nuts, he went back upstairs.."Right back, Auntie Rose!" He came down with a bowl of chee-tos. And he made sure to put some of them in my bowl and share with me and sat and watched the rest of Sponge Bob.
Later, in talking with my sister, I found out that he darned near threw a fit... he wouldn't come back downstairs unless the adults made sure he had TWO bowls... one for Auntie Rose and one for himself. And then when he got chee-tos, funny, he told them, "Auntie Rose wants chee tos." Heh. At least they knew better.
That boy, right now, is one of the joys of my life, and it made being there in Pennsylvania worth all the pain in the ass.
And back to the reality world of "stupid shit my mom said to me," I was in the bathroom clattering around and when I came out, my sister was laughing and asked me if I broke her toilet or something with all my clammering around the tiny half-bathroom. And I laughed and said no, and we were all cracking up, and my mom came in the room.
Mom: "What's so funny?"
Rose: "Aw, [my sister] was just trying to picture my fat ass breaking her toilet seat."
Mom: "Well that's not hard at all to picture. What's so funny about that?"
Rather than leave the table and go to bed, I sat at the table and wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry or seeing me upset, and I ate the half-piece of pumpkin pie that my sister had dished up for me. Merry Christmas, mom. She still doesn't have a clue that she said that, and I can live with it.
Anyway, Matt, my nephew, loves me unconditionally. He actually said, "Auntie Rose pretty. Pretty pretty pretty!" And that was when I had my pajamas on and my big red fuzzy slippers and my hair in a ponytail with no makeup at some random time of the lazy day. Maybe he's the only one that matters in situations like that.
End day three.
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
So on what we'll call Day Two, which was also Christmas Eve, I got up around 8:30 to the smell of breakfast cooking and to my nephew Matthew jumping on my bed to wake me up. Love him, but jeez.
I also figured out that going up the stairs out of a cold basement with plantar fasciitis in one foot isn't the best possible use of my time. So after HOBBLING up the stairs (which I ended up doing for a lot of the week... hobbling up and down stairs) I parked myself on the couch for a bit while breakfast finished getting itself ready and then had a meal with the family.
Before we ate I surveyed the situation in the living room.
When my sister and her husband moved to Pennsylvania, they sent us pictures of their house. It's a really nice house, very "keeping up with the Joneses." But I had no idea they were going to get so... Joneses... with the decorating and the like. My sister and her family had hosted at least one Christmas party so there wasn't one flat surface in the house on the main level that wasn't tastefully decorated Christmas-like. Pointsettias, real and fake, sat on tables around the room. The top of the custom made armoire which housed the 55 inch TV was draped with attractive pine garland with red and gold accents, as were the custom cabinets in the kitchen, the refrigerator, and over the door to the patio. Christmas decals on the windows, the tree was colorfully lighted and strategically placed in a front window... and there were presents everywhere.
Let me rephrase that.
Behind the seven foot Christmas tree, stacked up at least five feet high into the corner and along the walls: presents.
Then, along both walls sprawling out from the Christmas tree... on one side over and in front of the mantel for about five or six feet... presents. In front of the television and out into the room poured a wave of gifts unlike anything I had ever seen. Big gifts, small gifts, all wrapped with beautiful paper and designer "had this wrapped at the department store because I suck at wrapping" style bows, which is unheard of in my family (we're a big stick-on bow family). Gifts everywhere. I couldn't believe it.
As I was admiring the piles, all addressed basically to my sister from her husband (with tags like, "To my sexy wife. To my gorgeous wife. To the love of my life. To my hot, hot mama) and to her husband from my sister (same smarmy tags) and to the kids, presents from my mom, presents from his mom, presents from their family, gifts everywhere for those four people... I hear the words...
"We're going to finish wrapping all the presents today." I later go on to find that there are MORE piles of gifts in the basement, some wrapped and some unwrapped, PLUS Santa Claus had yet to make an appearance.
I began to dread Christmas Eve.
Now don't get me wrong, my mom always kind of "overdid" Christmas in terms of presents. She's very into giving. But except for newlyweds in the throes of passion, I have never seen two adult people give EACH OTHER fifteen or more gifts each, plus piles of gifts for their kids, PLUS Santa Claus. And these were not inexpensive gifts, either. Hugo Boss. Polo. Liz Claiborne. Ralph Lauren. Tommy Hilfiger. Jewelry. Victoria's Secret. These were no skimpy presents, man. Ka-ching. $$$$$$. I thought I was going to be sick.
After SIX HOURS of opening gifts, we still weren't done. The kids had incessant numbers of presents remaining and now there was no room to have Santa Claus leave his presents (Santa left four large toys for the 2-year-old and four large toys for the 3-month-old plus some wrapped up gifts under the tree). Then we did presents Christmas Morning for like four more hours. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Christmas Eve. Yeah, so my family has never been particularly religious, theyr'e kind of like, "Catholic Lite." But this year with two small children there was no talk of going to midnight mass or anything like that. As a matter of fact, there wasn't one Jesus reference in anything that was done for Christmas or Christmas Eve, except that Midnight Mass happened to be broadcast on the "All Christmas Music, All The Time" station and they left it on. How do you take communion when you are listening to midnight mass on the radio? Yeah, I thought so.
I still can't crawl in my sister's head and understand what they were doing with the big overdone presents holiday. I mean, my nephew is TWO YEARS OLD. She's quick to remind everyone that, because he thinks and acts a little beyond his years from time to time. But to shower that kid with so many toys that his tiny little two year old attention span couldn't focus on any one of them... is that stupid, or just cruel? He literally couldn't keep his mind on enjoying any one toy, because there were so many that he'd start to get playing with one, and five minutes later he'd have to hop to the next one because it caught his eye. Sad.
It snowed on Christmas Eve, and that was kind of nice because it made for a dusting of powder on Christmas morning. At about 2am, everything was done and Santa had come and gone so we all went to bed... little did I know we'd be getting up in five hours.
End day two.
Monday, December 29, 2003
Tuesday I farted around the house with S. when we weren't taking baby to the vet and when we weren't freaking out about my impending trip. He took me to the airport around 2pm for my 4pm flight.
The airport, as to be expected, was a freaking nightmare. I used the electric check-in kiosk, which was really cool and shaved some time off my wait. When I got to the metal detectors at the security checkpoint, though, I found something unexpected. When I took off my watch, my shoes, my metal headband, and my wedding ring, I was feeling my pockets for change when I found... the key to Paula's house. Which S. was going to need to be able to watch the cats while I was gone. So then I had to call him and have him call Kelly to arrange to get another key so they would be fine while I was gone.
Then they announced that on the five hour flight there would be no meal service (for coach class... they were happy to COOK A MEAL for first class and torment us with the smell for the entire trip to PA) so I grabbed a quick bite and a coke while I was waiting for the plane. Got on, aisle seat, that was okay - but I'm afraid of flying. So I was a little antsy while we took off.
The girl in the seat next to me reminded me of the hot dark haired girl on "That 70's Show." She had perfect hair and makeup and was kind of off in her own little world. After I declined to pay $5 "entertainment fee" for the privilege of "renting" "earphones" on the flight, I figured I'd try to hold down my lunch and settle in for a nap. No such luck as the flight was basically rough from the time we took off to the time we landed. I made more than one trip to the airplane restroom.
In the last hour or so of the trip, I decided to pull out my copy of Cosmopolitan magazine and start reading. So did That 70's Girl. So the both of us were cruising our way through the magazine... and she's a card ripper. You know the type. Maybe you're one of them.
every time she got to an ad on thicker paper or an insert ad, a bind-in or a blow-in, a reader service card...she'd tear it out. And not femininely and petitely, either, she'd raise her elbow and RIP the freakin things right out of the magazine, wad them up, and put them in the seat pocket in front of her. You know, where the safety cards and puke bags and your complimentary copy of SkyMall and America West Magazine go. In the seat pocket in front of her.
So here we are, learning how to please our man and how to talk hot and dirty in bed and Ten Moves Your Guy Will Crave and other such sexually stimulating pseudo-foreplay, and she's ripping. Tearing. Rip! Rip! Rip!
Well, the Flight Attendants came by no fewer than four times asking for trash... and she never gave any trash. She just kept stuffing her personal garbage into the seat pocket in front of her. I just love to say that, it reminds me of the hokey speeches the flight attendants have to make at the beginning of the flight. "For more information on the safety features of this Air Bus, please read the safety card IN THE SEAT POCKET IN FRONT OF YOU. Isn't there something sacred about that?
So here's the kicker. When we began our "gradual and final descent into Pittsburgh," the gal two seats over from me offered us both a piece of gum to help our ears not pop. Very nice. Took it. Chewed it. So did That 70's Girl. So now she's smacking away on her gum and ripping away on her magazine and I notice she's keeping up with me in the skim-o-matic that is Cosmopolitan reading. And we finally are almost landed...
And That 70's Girl takes her wad of used up gum from her mouth, doesn't know what to do with it, and... say it with me... sticks it in the SEAT POCKET IN FRONT OF HER. Oh, sure, she decided to pull out one of the magazine ads first, and wrap it in the card before stuffing it back into the seat... but how gross can you be. You know what, prissy? Keep your fuckin gum in your mouth and spit it out in the terminal garbage can like the rest of us. Sheesh. I instantly started imagining her as a prissy antisocial Daddy's Girl who looked down on the rest of the working world... that she thinks it's someone's job to take HER garbage out of the SEAT POCKET IN FRONT OF HER instead of calmly handing it to the flight attendant who paraded up and down the aisle begging for garbage. "They have people to do that," I can hear her say to herself.
And while we're at it, what the hell is up with the guy who... the MINUTE the lights come on in the airplane and it goes "Bing bong," and we have taxied to the gate, has to LAUNCH himself out of his chair so he can stand in the aisle for ten minutes while 12 rows of people in front of him find their carryon baggage and file off the plane in an orderly manner? I bet he drives 70 miles an hour up the street just to get caught at every. red. light. Serves him right, too.
So, I waited in the cold for about ten minutes for my mom and sis to get me, and when they picked me up I proceeded to get the third degree about "why we are in such a rush to get married [legally]" and why we are "punishing the family" by "making sure they can't participate." Don't they understand? It's a tradeoff. They don't have to get us presents... and we don't have to throw them a party with free booze and overpriced hors d'ouvres.
Sounds fair to me.
End day one.
Okay. So here's the short update, and I will start going back and filling in other details as I have time. :)
First of all, I made it to PA okay, survived the week with my family without getting involved in a fight (though there were plenty of them), had my own little ruckus on Saturday night before I came home, and made it home.
Baby is in his new home in New Mexico and is FREAKING OUT! But this is what cats DO! IF anyone has ever moved with a cat, please, PLEASE leave your comments here for Ross and Rachel, Baby's new mom and dad, to tell them everything will be okay. Even when I move with my kitties who know and love me, they hiss at me and don't come out from under the bed for two or three days, so I'm sure he's going to be fine... but some encouragement would be great.
Hm, what else. Vanilla has a foster home and will be going to his foster family's home TODAY after work, and I am very, VERY excited.
Christmas was okay but I'm glad to be home - and I am now battling a runny nose and sore throat, so I'm hoping the fucking infected on the plane didn't get me sick.
Soon to come: Trip day summaries.
Thanks for sticking with me. Happy holidays.
Tuesday, December 23, 2003
Okay all, I'm on my way to PA to see the sis and family for xmas. Leaving behind S. to hold down the fort while I'm gone. Please don't forget about me, I return to Phoenix on the 28th and will blog from PA if I have a chance to.
But in case I don't - I am not dead and gone, merely on vacation. Keep stopping by. PLEASE!
Happy holidays to all!
Monday, December 22, 2003
Am I just too nice, or am I just too fucking stupid for words? I don't even know. All I know is, I am now up and out of the shower and as pissed off as I was last night when things happened, and I'm really, ROYALLY pissed off.
Vanilla and Baby, Paula's cats, I've been taking care of them as best I could and trying to find homes for them. About A MONTH AGO I got word that a lady wanted to take Vanilla, could I hold on to him until the 14th of December, she was going to be closing on her house - she sold herself to me - had cats before - gonna be a great addition to her family - can't wait to give him loving home - blah - blah - blah.
"Wahoo," I thought, wrote the girl, told her that was fine, we traded phone numbers. I tried to call her closer to the 14th. I emailed her a couple of times and phoned her once and she finally emailed back to me, apologized for having been sick and busy, and said she'd call us on the 14th "around 5-ish" to come get him - even said, "I have presents for him! I hope he likes them!"
4pm: nothing. 5pm: nothing. And it's not like she didn't have my phone numbers, either, she had my home, my work, S.'s cell and my cell and all of our email addresses. I phoned her at 5:10, as I was trying to make plans for the evening and wanted to know when I should expect her - voice mail. she never called me back. That was a Sunday.
I emailed her Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, sometimes twice a day. I phoned her Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, sometimes leaving messages and sometimes giving up. I emailed with the girlfriend of mine who works with this girl just to make sure she was even at work. I had her work number but did not call her at work, I just dealt with her on the personal/cell number she had given me.
On Thursday I emailed her and told her if she couldn't take two minutes to write me back I was going to assume she was no longer interested in Vanilla and try to find another home for him - she wrote back, and apologized for being "busy and sick" and said she would be a great mom to Vanilla, she promised she'd phone this weekend, how's 10:00 am on Sunday, she'll call. I wrote back politely and kindly and happily, said I was glad to hear she was feeling better (the flu, you know) and that 10am would be great on Sunday, we were busy all day Saturday but should be home for her 10am Sunday, in case she missed us here's all our numbers and emails again, blah. blah. blah.
So at 9:30am when I would have much rather been sleeping in on Sunday, I got up, and left S. in bed so I could answer the phone and make the arrangements vor Vanilla without disturbing him. 10am, nothing. 1030, nothing. 11am, nothing. 1130, nothing. I phoned her at 11:30 (S. was up by then) and left a long message reiterating that I'm going out of town for a WEEK, and that she was going to call at TEN, and it was now 11:30 and I couldn't reach her, and how disappointed I was that we hadn't been able to connect, and that if I didn't hear from her Sunday I was just going to assume she didn't want him any more and find a new home for him - but if she still wants him to hurry up and fucking call us back (I didn't say fucking). I was pissed.
1:30 I called her again, no answer. 3:30 I called again, she had turned her phone off or was out of range (cellular). 5:00 I called again and left her another message. 8:00 I called.
Man On Phone: "Hello?"
Rose: "Hi, can I speak to Terry please?"
MOP: "Yeah sure, hang on a second." Now about this time, I'm thinking, "SCORE!"
MOP (muffled): It's some female.
Terry (muffled): (inaudible gobbledy gook)
MOP (muffled): OK.
Yes, that's right, he hung up on me, one would assume at her instruction. I sat there in awe and disbelief, until the phone actually told me to hang up and dial my number again. I could not believe I had just been FUCKING HUNG UP ON BY SOMEONE WHO FUCKING BEGGED ME FOR THIS CAT.
So, I called right back, and this time it just rang six times and went to voice mail. I just left a message that went something like this:
"Hi Terry, this is Rose. I just spoke with a man at this number who told you I was on the phone, consulted with you and then hung up with me, and now you're not answering your phone. So, it's painfully obvious to me you don't want Vanilla any more. Goodbye."
Now here's my problem. Baby's new family is coming to get him on the 28th. That means I might have to bring Vanilla into my home to take care of him rather than leave him on his own. I've been looking for a home for him for SIX MONTHS. And I actually FUCKING HELD HIM for this lady for a MONTH and now she's not going to take him.
What the fuck.
What should I do? The evil vindictive bitch in me wants to write her an email or phone her at the work number I've never used and confront her about how she's basically endangered this cat's chance at a good home. I can't fucking believe this happened, that she was so incredibly rude, or that it even matters to me that a fucking loser pisspot like that has me so riled up. Sometimes I just don't understand what the FUCK goes through some people's heads.
Help me, dear readers, what should I do?
Friday, December 19, 2003
I might have been found.
Someone searched for "Sablerose Blog" and got me.
If it's you, drop me an email and let me know who you are, eh? Sablerose was my BBS'ing handle long, long ago. I like to know when someone I know is reading. :)
Please visit my brother Daryl's website at Saving Citizen Daryl and see if you can help him realize his dream. Daryl is a vocal, outspoken anti-Conservative, I won't even necessarily call him a Liberal... he raises a lot of good points, but this is how he's trying to rectify his situation.
After years of hoping things would change and he'd not have anything to fear or be angry about or be disappointed about, he's decided the way to get past his angst about the Conservative bent in this country is to leave the country.
If you've got $5 to spend, $10 to spend, read his site, see if you like where he's going with it, and if you feel it worthy, contribute. Whether you're a Conservative who wants to eject a goddamn bleeding heart, or whether you're a Liberal who wants to do a good turn for a guy, either way you'd be making a difference.
Thanks for looking, and he'll be updating the site much more regularly. For some more background on his feelings, check out his blog.
Love you, Bro. Hope this works the way you hope it works.
Thursday, December 18, 2003
Someone submitted a post of mine ("This Is How You Remind Me," from down the page) to www.blorgy.com. and I thank you. If you haven't been by to re-read and vote, go ahead.
Never been submitted for anything like that before, so if it was you, thanks, and if you want to nominate something else, feel free. The "direct links" on the blog are the little plus signs at the end of each post.
I'm flattered. Thanks.
I just spent a little time in the last couple of days and particularly this morning, looking at pictures of myself from a little over a year ago or more.
I've really gained a lot of weight. I am visibly heavier.
While I've FELT heavier, seeing those pictures really brought it home for me, and I have to get a handle on this. I'm not sure if it's because I'm at the point right now where I just HATE excercise, or if it's my eating habits, both of which could stand to improve.
But I've got to lose some of this weight.
I wish I could lose a big chunk of it before S. goes away to school, but I guess I'm at the point where I just hope I can have a lot of it lost by the time he comes HOME. It'd be nice for him to marry me before he leaves and then come home to a new sexier woman in April.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to do it FOR him. I have to do it for me. There are a lot of things I want to do and wish I could "still" do and blah blah blah as well as planning for the future and wanting to be the healthiest mommy I can when we decide to start a family. All of those things are very important.
I'm just tired, and I think carrying around this extra weight has something to do with that.
Must start exercising regularly. Ugh. Any suggestions?
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Well, our friends who are ordained ministers aren't returning our emails about getting married. So this is rather disturbing. Especially disturbing, as a matter of fact.
So now it looks like some judge will marry us which is fine.
But it's going to be a clusterfuck.
S.'s parents aren't coming and I don't even know if my mom will want to freaking BE there. Either way is fine. But we're going to have to go get the license and then we're going to have to wait in line at a judge's to get married.
And that fucking sucks. You want it to be at least a LITTLE nice. Right?
Wow. Tired. Again. I honestly think it's just this time of year - I'm sleeping like a rock. But I am also surrounded by people who are getting this flu, so I'm almost afraid to deprive myself of any type of rest. When I get sick this time of year, it comes on hard and fast, and it's not one to leave me after a short time. I usually end up with some kind of asthmatic bronchitis to go with whatever flu I end up with, so I'm really trying to avoid it.
So last night was our work's big Open House, a very hoity toity affair. Tiffany and I tended bar, and pigged out on yummy appetizers, crudite, etc. (Pears with brie cheese and almonds in phyllo pastry... yum) But Maury took a couple of pictures of us and I found myself being disgusted. I looked gigantic in the pictures, and it's not because of the way they were taken - it's because I was gigantic. Am. Gigantic. I've been a little bit "off the wagon" in the last week or two because of a lot of things - not exercising because of my foot injury, not eating as well as I should be because of stress. So I have to get back with the healthy food program or I'm going to just balloon up into a humongo-chick and then you'll all be sorry!
This morning I got up a little later than I anticipated and I have to be at work at 8am for an early meeting, so I suppose I need to cut this one short. I hobbled into the house last night around 8:10pm after the Open House reception and S. was here, and set up the foot massager for me with some boiling water and essential oil and let me bundle myself up in a blanket on the couch with my feet soaking, while he played guitar and we both railed on Michael Jackson (2 separate VH1 specials on last night). It was nice. And then when I was about ready to keel over at 10:30, we went to bed and I slept hard Hard HARD all the way until a little after 6am, when he got me out of bed cuz he was getting ready to hit the road.
I've been having these moments of absolute panic lately, just like, intense, jaw dropping, pulse racing, amazing strange panic. I'll have to write some more about that, as it has everything to do with the idea that S. is leaving in less than a month for three months to school, we're getting married, and probably moving to Oklahoma. I don't want to deal with any of it, and yet I have to deal with all of it... so it's like... bleah.
Hey, S. has a phone conference with our attorney on Thursday about the cuntrageous bitch to find out what kind of recourse we have. If you pray, please keep him in your prayers. We really need this crap to get worked out.
Monday, December 15, 2003
Well, another Monday comes and… comes.
This weekend was once again, too short. I often wonder if I am going to be able to get to a place in my life where I say, “Yeah, that weekend, that was just right. Two days, man, that’s exactly what I needed. Can’t beat two days off!”
Sure you can! THREE days off! FOUR days off!
On that note, a little bit of summary of the weekend.
Slept in on Saturday. Friday night I went holiday shopping and finished up the list, pretty much, for the family. Which was nice. I don’t usually go for holiday shopping as a big fun activity, but this year it was pretty enjoyable even though we’re broke as fuck-all.
Saw my dad for a little bit on Saturday afternoon, he stopped by and we stood out in front of the house shooting the shit about everything and nothing. I think my dad and S. got along well, and that was a good thing. Dad told me that he was super busy and was going to try to find time to get back over and take us out to dinner, but he couldn’t guarantee anything. We finished up our shopping and ate dinner and watched VH1’s Top 100 Rock Bands of All Time.
Rose: “We’re gonna watch fucking five hours of this and they’re gonna say Led Zeppelin.”
S.: “I hope not.”
Rose: “It’s going to happen.”
Sure as all get-out, at midnight, it was Led Zeppelin as the #1 greatest Rock Band of All Time. Bah. I understand they have their place but… that was a waste of five hours, to have it get to Led Zeppelin as the #1 band. I mean, how gullible do two people have to be to tune into VH1 and get sucked into that? Good grief. But we did. Get sucked in.
Sunday we got up at a decent hour and went and did some running around, finished up random shopping, et al. One of S.’s gifts showed up in the mail on Friday or Saturday and the rest of them should be coming via Amazon, and it’ll all be good. I hope. I couldn’t stand it and had to give S. one of his gifts last night…
That’s my problem with gift giving. See, if I’m going to give a present, I can’t stand to have it tucked away or wrapped up, I have to hurry up and give it to you. So the idea that I have like 8 little things for S. and they’re all going to get wrapped up is driving me insane.
So Sunday, the lady who was supposed to come and get Vanilla the cat never called and never showed up. So I’m a little pissed off about that. No, I’m a lot pissed off. I’m guessing or hoping that there’s something, some kind of “good reason” for that, but if the lady’s going to be a flake, I don’t want to give her the cat. And my dad called at like 6:30 on Sunday night to cancel our dinner and say he was sorry he wouldn’t be able to make it. So we had spaghetti for dinner and went to bed at a reasonable hour. Makes me feel old.
Good. But old.
Friday, December 12, 2003
I know it's piddly but we hit 10,000 hits yesterday.
Thursday, December 11, 2003
There are times when being a woman sucks moldy, moldy ass. It’s not that I would prefer to be a man, mind you, but there’s just something about this emotional and hormonal baggage that makes women the lovely creatures we are… that sucks fucking rocks.
Last night after a day that was, realistically, eight hours longer than it should have been and amazingly hectic, S. and I were sitting around waiting to get ready to go to my mom’s house and we were talking briefly about the fact that Dave, who handfasted us, is not available to marry us on 1/3/04, which is the date we had originally picked out.
S. said, “It’s not like it’s going to kill us if we wait until I get back from school.”
I heard, “It’s not like this is important enough to worry about, we should just wait four more months.”
I’m sure you can all imagine how THAT went over in my pea-brain and what a complete clusterfuck the next forty minutes were. I just kind of got up and left the room and went to clean the kitchen… I didn’t want to talk about it. And while I was cleaning the kitchen, a million things like, “He doesn’t want to marry me!” and “I’ve driven him away!” and “This isn’t important to him!” filtered through my mind, and I was nearly crying by the time I managed to actually try to talk to him about it.
We didn’t really have a “fight.” I was defensive and so was he. I was hurt and he didn’t understand why. Then after I talked for a while he understood why but it obviously wasn’t anything he should have apologized for. He tried to rephrase his sentiment into a way that would make me feel better about the discussion, and I ended up saying something amazingly odd and whiny (albeit honest) like, “SOMETIMES I NEED YOU TO JUST TAKE A MINUTE AND MAKE SURE THAT I KNOW I AM THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN YOUR LIFE AND THAT YOU LOVE ME.”
Now, S. tells me multiple times a day that he loves me, and he falls all over himself in a myriad of wonderful ways to make sure I know I’m loved, and appreciated, and adored. But right at that minute I guess I just needed to hear the words, as idiotic as that sounds, I needed him to look me in the face in my time of grief while I was mourning the loss of our love which never really happened (the loss, not the love) and say, “You’re important to me and I want to marry you more than anything and I love you.”
Because I am a hormonal, over-emotional, occasionally mentally deficient woman.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
I am so tired.
So. Damned. Tired.
I have to go into work early today but I get to leave early (whee!) and have dinner with my mom and I'm not working tonight (whee!) so maybe I can get a little more rest.
I also think I will see if I can get S. to clean the furnace filter, since it's a big pain in the ass and he's good at that stuff.
We will also put an extra blanket on the bed.
Ah, there goes the heater again for like, the second time in five minutes. It's pretty cold here today and the thing keeps clicking off and on. I think the furnace filter being clean would be a good thing.
So, in other news, S. has updated his blog again, actually a couple of times. He gets all excited and bounces around when his hits take a small spike, so if you haven't read him before and you'd like to, please feel free.
Thanks guys. Guess I better go do my hair.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
I voted for President Bush. There, I said it. I voted for Dubya. Have trouble believing it? Sometimes, anymore, so do I.
Recently, a number of things in this country have become more and more disturbing to me. Especially, as I'm sure some critics I know are going to get a riotous hoot out of me bringing up religious equality in this country, but oh well, they can kiss my ass. I'm a Citizen and I have my religious beliefs and if they don't like it they can hide in a box with a blindfold on.
Phew. Am I a little worked up today? No more coffee for me!
This article particularly offends me.
What is this crap?
Jim Towey, director of the White House Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives, participated in an online interactive "Ask the White House" chat Nov. 26. One question posed to him had to do with whether or not pagan faith-based groups should be considered for public funding.
"I haven't run into a pagan faith-based group yet, much less a pagan group that cares for the poor!" Towey responded, according to a White House transcript. "Once you make it clear to any applicant that public money must go to public purposes and can't be used to promote ideology, the fringe groups lose interest. Helping the poor is tough work, and only those with loving hearts seem drawn to it."
Okay. So. This guy - this guy who is in CHARGE of the Office of Faith-Based and Community Initiatives... because he's so closed minded and ignorant of other religions that he's never seen a Pagan faith-based group (there are plenty in existence), then all Pagans are self-promoting fringe radicals? And we don't have loving hearts?
Speaking personally, the Pagans that I have had the pleasure and joy of knowing in my life have more love in their hearts and do more good works for people in their local communities, in need, than all the Christians I've known in my life put together.
I was raised Christian/Catholic. When I was in high school, I was a Born-Again Christian. I could quote Bible verses to you, I went to church three times a week, I attended church functions and volunteered... for the Church. Ask me how many times, in attending a HUGE nondenominational congregation in Arizona every week for three and one half years of going to church three times a week and volunteering for the congregation, how many times the congregation did anything to help the community or how many times I was asked to help the community.
Go ahead. Ask me.
Once a year. At Christmas. The church did a food drive and you were asked to bring your nonperishable food items to service on Sunday, since you were coming anyway.
Other things we did - bake sales - car washes - pledge drives - they were all to raise money for the Church. Build a new chapel! Start a seminary school! Pay for missionaries to go spread the Word of God! My exposure to Christian "Charity" was to raise money to further their own ideology and make sure they had better buildings and a bigger parking lot. Oh, I think we put a new wood floor on the basketball court in the church's gymnasium, too.
I wish I could take credit for some of the following, but it was written by a Pagan friend of mine who works for the Military Pagan Network in Oklahoma. She says it very, very well, and I couldn't say it any better.
Neo-paganism is organized, but on a much smaller scale in most cases. NeoPagans are organized into the ancient Roman-Christian equivalent of cell-churches. These are small, local groups rarely numbering over 20 (usually between 5 or 10 adherents). Sometimes these groups will come together and form an umbrella organization, or join a larger regional group. And dispersed throughout the nation are thousands of solitary practitioners.
Usually these larger Pagan organizations serve to help NeoPagans understand and utilize their civil rights, because in reality, that is still an issue here in this country, though through our hard work, it has gotten significantly better.
The comment from Jim Towey that indicated that NeoPagans are not interested in charity is bunk. Due to the organic structure of our community, many charitable NeoPagans choose to volunteer their time, goods and services to charities that already exist.
There are several cases in which NeoPagan groups have collected food to be distrubuted, only to have their contributions turned away, sad but true. It has become apparent to us that in some locations, getting the job done is not as important as who gets credit for doing the job. NeoPagan canned goods apparently are not as savory or nutritious as Chrisitan canned goods. An interesting thought.
Mater, Jerry. "Pagans Show Their Pride, But Encounter Reluctance." The Boston Globe.
PITTSBURG, Kan. - Area pagans were seeking two things on Saturday: to educate the public about their beliefs and to collect as much food for a local charity as they could.
link to article here.
The point is that NeoPagans are very involved in their local communities and do what they can to make the world a better place. Their charitable acts may not be high profile, or it may be that they donate their time to issues that vex the Bush administration (such as ecological and trade issues). But volunteer work is volunteer work.
What is truly sad, is that the Bush Administration and their supporters have made no secret of the fact they they would like to make sure the NeoPagans get no funding. Many Pagans would like to see the Faith Based Initiative go away, but that does not mean that we will sit by and let ignorant individuals insult us at every turn, using our religious community as an exampe of "groups that would be denied consideration" under an official, unwritten "approved religions list."
It is clear that the reason for the quick and angry response of the NeoPagan community to the Bush Administration over this issue, is that the current administration has established a precedent in identifying our religious groups as substandard and not worthy of fair and equitable treatment in government issues. President Bush made that clear as a presidential candidate on the Good Morning America Show.
Whether the group wants to take place in these programs or not, there should be no question that their request would be considered on the same criterion as other requests, and the government would do its best to avoid even the appearance of impropriety in this matter.
That government officials are treating this issue with such poor regard towards our rights as citizens, and that they do it boldy, should be shocking and frightening for every religious group and every citizen. It makes me wonder who is next on the list of "substandard religions."
Politics after all, does make strange bedfellows.
More and more, I regret that I supported the Republican and Conservative ticket in the last election. I get saddened to see things like this. I'm surprised more folks aren't.
Looks like I will hit 10,000 hits in my first year of blogging. I suppose that's not too bad, eh?
That's all, just had to blurp that out. Blogspot is taking a massive shit this morning so all I can do is sit here in my private, quiet little blogger world and type 140 words a minute and hit "post and publish" and hope it all shows up later.
Blogspot shit. There's a google seed for ya. Wonder how long before that shows up.
Okay. So that's kind of a sick lyric. It's on mainstream radio, so don't blame me.
Um. What's going on with me, I guess, is the next step here. First of all I colored my hair back to its natural color. From pictures on this site you wouldn't have known it but I have been slowly adding more and more blonde highlights into my hair. So now it's back to normal, a kind of chocolatey chestnut brown with auburn highlights. I'm winterized, like an evaporative cooler.
So my dad is in town starting today, from Mexico, and I'm sure he's going to be coming by the house. I want to get him together with S. because they should really meet before we get married. In addition, since S.'s mom and stepdad want to come out here for the wedding we aren't going to have, we are now going to sit down tomorrow night (Wednesday) with my mother and talk to her about when we're getting married and ask her if she wants to go. Oh, and yeah, S. is supposed to get with Dave and find out if he's even available to do it. Sigh. Which he hasn't done yet.
My dad is in town and I'm sure we're going to get together and go eat some Mexican food. I always have mixed emotions about seeing my dad and especially about introducing him to people, but I think this will go over pretty well. Dad will be happy to see me with "someone like S.," if not S. himself, and hopefully he'll just be happy that I'm happy.
In the meantime I feel like I haven't had a break since before Thanksgiving! I should have relished and enjoyed every bit of that time and I feel more run down right now than I did before Thanksgiving. I also feel like I hardly rested on the weekend. I'm starting to really notice that pre-sick tired feeling that you get before you get run over by a truck, and I don't want to be sick. Part of me wants to be sick just so I can be in bed for two days but at the same time, being sick completely sucks ass and it's flu season, so if I can't just get the random two-day sleep pass, I suppose I'd rather pass on the virus from hell, thankyouverymuch.
Overall I am tired and I am busy and I am kind of freaking out for a bunch of different reasons. I feel like I need a break and no breaks are coming. And I'm not rightly sure what to do. It's kind of like a pre-panic-attack... I have the resources to keep up with everything I need to right now, but it's a huge pain in the ass. I did six tapes (2nd job) on Sunday and five last night, and will have even more tonight. I am taking Wednesday off come hell or high water and we are going to my mom's. Maybe it'll be good.
And I'm going to be legally married, government-recognized, here in less than a month.
Monday, December 08, 2003
I suddenly have this overwhelming feeling of doom that I will never be a parent because I will get too old, too fast, and never truly feel like we are "ready" to have a family, and since S. is younger than me, perhaps he wouldn't be ready to breed as soon as I would be ready to breed.
I'm 33 years old, and I'm in fear of becoming shriveled and infertile.
I've been posting a lot of pictures to my fotolog if you haven't checked there lately.
I don't want to go back to work.
I'd actually like to stay in bed for about, oh, a day. My nose is stuffy, although I don't really feel like I'm getting ILL.
I am just tired, but there is far - FAR too much to be done at work this week without me there, so I have to suck it up and go in. I wish there were another way to work it, but so far there's just not.
Found out S.'s parents want to come for the "wedding" that we aren't having, in January. I'm not upset that they want to come out and visit us, but now I feel like what wasn't going to be much ceremony is going to have to include some ceremony. Couple this with the fact that we haven't told my parents yet that we are going to get this thing legalized on 1/3/04 and it just gives us more and new things to do.
So many things making me tired.
Thursday, December 04, 2003
I am suddenly, very sad.
You see, I got all excited, hyped up, and happy when I found out Henry Rollins is going to be coming for another spoken word show in January. S. missed the show the last time because he was at school, and I was going to surprise him with tickets as a Yule gift.
And then I realized he's leaving probably around January 10th for school, which is before the date of the show.
And then I realized that it's a month away... him leaving. He's leaving. In a month. For three months. He'll be gone from mid January to the end of April.
And then we'll have May and part of June and we will probably have to be moving to Oklahoma.
It's all happening very fast, and it's starting to make me really sad.
Not only am I going to have to spend money to get my house ready to sell, but it's going to take a lot of time and energy that I may not even really have. And I'll be leaving everyone I love. And the three months that S. will be in Mississippi aren't going to be easy either.
So suddenly I'm sitting here at work and I feel tears in my eyes, because I am starting to come to terms with the idea that my life is changing and so much of the preparation work will have to be done without my husband.
He will be my legal husband by the time he goes away to school... but it's still an amazing, overwhelming amount of stuff to have to do on my own and I don't know how I'm going to manage it. I just don't know, I cannot for the life of me begin to tell you how I am going to deal with it. I just don't know.
I'm amazingly sad now and I'm starting to freak out, almost hyperventilate a little bit.
It's uncomfortable and I don't like it. And I just want to cry.
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
So. Anyone see part one of "The Simple Life" last night?
It's like, "Stupid Debutantes On Crack."
Just another way for me to feel superior for half an hour a week. I can't wait for Part Two, tonight.
Anyone watch it?
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Well, this morning I had to be at a local resort at 6am for work. We were sponsoring a large event where the mayor-elect spoke this morning and among the registered guests was the CEO of the company I left in May to come to work where I work now.
Now, I’ve been in the loop a little since I left there, and as is human nature, there are people who badmouthed me after I left. There were a lot of people who I thought I was at least friendly with, even if I wasn’t friends with them, who wouldn’t return my emails and wanted nothing to do with me after I left. That place is like a cult.
So of course, I am working registration and here comes Mr. CEO, one of the folks whom I’d heard rumors was negative on me when I left there.
He jumped back and blinked and did a double take, and said, “Hey! Wow! Rose! Hey, am I in the right place, I’m here for the Mayor’s breakfast.”
“Yup, this is the right place,” I said, “We’re sponsoring the event. Here, let me help you find your name tag.” He followed me down the table exchanging some smalltalk and niceties about how good it was to see me, and said, “So, what are you doing there?”
I froze up. I completely froze up. I ended up glossing over most of what I do and putting it into a nutshell, and what I wanted to do was tell him how important my job is and how great I am at it and how everyone at work loves me and how I make more money now and how I’m happy and blah blah blah.
But it didn’t come out like that, it just kind of came out like… blah.
He politely excused himself to go off and mingle, but I still wish I could have told him how thrilled I am with the choice I made back in May. To leave that gossip-infested clique-filled place where you were constantly “tempted” with a carrot but never even got a sugar cube…
In reviewing my “career” there, when I was going over in my head how I was going to handle “running into them” at the event this morning, I was forced to remember that from April 1999 to May 2003 – four years – FOUR YEARS! I got raises totaling about… let’s see. Totaling about $2,000. In four years. Every year my reviews were great, and every year they gave us some excuse why they couldn’t give “merit raises.” I got a 4% raise my first year, no raise my second year, and 2% my third and fourth years, or something insane like that. Everyone did. And so many people stayed, they believed they were only worth that. I got screwed over at every turn. Promised things that never panned out. Got given more work to do but no commensurate increases to motivate me. They did that to everyone.
And so why was I worried about running into them, and what do I care what they think?
Sometimes you just have to put things into perspective, I suppose. And that’s all I have to say about that.
My left foot hurts.
It hurts so bad that my left knee hurts, which makes my hip hurt, which makes my back hurt, which makes my left hand tingly.
That's how bad it fucking hurts.
Monday, December 01, 2003
Back to being tired, and back to having to work to pay the piper.
Well, it's Monday, and it's time to head back to the grind. I don't know if I'm happy or unhappy. We got a lot done around here for sure this long weekend, plus got some relaxing in, so that's a good thing.
Thanksgiving was nice, and it was just the two of us. Dinner with all the nice dishes, and it was even worth it to have to wash the extra dishes. There's a ton of leftovers but it seems like all we've bothered to eat is some mashed potatoes and pie. Heh. Isn't that the way it goes?
Friday morning we got up and hit the road for Cottonwood and spent a few hours with my grandma and grandpa, and it was nice. S. climbed up into the pecan tree and shook it, which is kind of a tradition for the men in my family, and we spent a while picking up all the pecans that had fallen to the ground. We nearly filled a wheelbarrow with pecans and there were still so many on the ground, we figured my grandma was going to have her work cut out for her over the next couple of days. Lots and lots of pecans.
My dad called me on Friday night while we were throwing darts in the living room, to let me know that he's coming to town and wanted to know if we could give Pat, a friend of my dad's, a place to stay for a few nights when he gets into town. So, having company means we have to get everything together. Fortunately for us we're hard workers so Saturday morning we got up and went out into the front yard and made the front of the house look absolutely GREAT. S. worked so hard, and it was such a huge help. Then in the afternoon we worked some in the back yard and got IT halfway presentable, so now there's just a few things we have to get done this week after work and it should all be good.
In other news, it appears I've re-torn my plantar fascia, the tendon that runs from the ball of my left foot to the heel of my left foot, so it's making it real hard for me to walk (especially in the mornings or after having been on it all day). So I had to go out and buy some new shoes in the hopes that it'll help. This is a really, REALLY painful injury and it gets in the way of a million different things. So, here's hoping it just... fixes itself.
S. is back to work today too, he's at PT this morning. When he has to leave early the alarm clock goes off twelve times. I'm gonna have to try to work out some kind of arrangement for that, as I don't feel like I hardly slept and then after I should have been getting up, all I wanted to do was sleep. Bah.
My job as a military wife is
to make it as easy as possible
for my beloved husband to do his job.
Where he leads, I will follow.
Husband: SSgt, USAF
Current Location: Tinker AFB, OK
Job: Self-Employed Transcriptionist
and Domestic Goddess
I am currently pimping:
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