For all of you who were wondering - or weren't wondering for that matter - yesterday sucked complete ass.
It all started off with falling back to sleep, when I should have been getting ready for work, making me almost late for the usual pre-start of the day's business - standing around the break room making fresh coffee -discussions. Opting for a cup of tea instead, and forced to use a fork to wind the tea bag since no one bothered to replace the spoons, I only managed to gleam two things.
(1) Maggie is not adverse to drinking day old coffee as long as it has been sufficiently warmed up.
and
(2) Cheryl's opinion of thong sandals is the same as mine, pretty to look at ... A pain to wear.
From there, it was to my office where I promptly almost spilled my beverage, knocked my headset off the desk, dropped my purse and discovered that for company - as much unwanted as it was - Slug was standing outside my door to say hello, prompting me to mutter under my breath the one thought that had invaded my mind ever since gaining consciousness ... God, I should have stayed home today.
By lunch, I'd had a million revisions, more credits to write, and a close encounter with Toni - who may be the nicest woman I have ever met - that just about escalated itself into a full out bar brawl.
Perhaps I could have handled things better than saying, "Get out of my office now," in a very hard cold voice, and heard the words behind her screeching as a desperate cry for help that we both were stressed beyond our measure and nothing should be taken personally. The boys meanwhile were having a field day, and suggesting that perhaps the discussion should be moved somewhere more convenient. Say like the mudhole around the side of the driveway ...
After lunch things slipped back to normal, after Toni and I both came to the conclusion that we behaved like men, and propmtly offered up sincere apologies for the neanderthal behavior.
Things were beginning to look up. My office at last was clean, all folders had been restored to their original upright positions, and my friend Mike suggested drinks after work.
One problem.
It wasn't my weekend off, which meant as far as irresponsibilty goes, it wasn't my time for goofing off. Still I decided to track down my sister, in hopes she wouldn't be adverse to hanging on to KC for just an extra hour, as I seldom manage time out with friends.
But when I got her on the phone, something about her voice gave me pause. Perhaps it was her request for five extra dollars to watch KC another hour that did it, but then again, I thought she was joking or just being her regular pain the ass self. Having gained "permission" to go, Mike decided against a bar run, and said, "I'll run to the store for supplies and we can go to your house instead."
So I had to call Amy back. "Change of plans," I said. "I'm picking KC up and I'll be there right after work," to which she promptly clicked off the phone.
Her behavior should have given me pause. Should have set warning bells off in my head that disaster was only a short car ride away, but instead I went to collect KC thinking, "At last this day from hell is over ..."
Oh, how wrong I was.
The girl was completely unglued when I got there, mouthing off about five dollars as I stood at her kitchen counter writing her out a check. I opted to ignore her bluster and keep writing.
"We've got to go," I said, calling KC down to get ready to leave, not noticing my sister was gearing up for high dramatics.
And then, it was if Mount Vesuvias had blown. Suddenly my sister is ranting and raving like a bonafied lunatic about what a selfish bitch I am and how I make a supposed two thousand dollars a month, and what a cheap bitch was I, if I couldn't give her another five dollars.
----- Sidenote ----
I am not a selfish and/or a cheap bitch and I do not bring in two thousand dollars a month. I do not own my own home, while she does. I have a piece of shit car in desperate need of massive repairs. IE: brakes, tires and leaking gas tank. Compared to her two vehicles, one of which resembles an SUV. I work my ass off, putting in overtime even when I'd rather be home. I take care of my daughter's needs first before my own, which does not include planning vacations without my kids, signing up for 400 stations of digital cable, and/or staying cable connected to the internet when there is a question of putting food in a child's mouth and/or clothing on their back. In other words, if you're a pauper living as a prince, perhaps you need to re-examine where all your money goes, and make the necessary cut backs, rather than thinking you can extort money from your younger sister!
--- End rant --- End Sidenote ---
Anyhoo, I didn't wait around to explain all this after she decided to send a chair flying in my direction, managing to graze me on the leg with her aim. Instead, I grabbed KC and got the hell out of there before my temper reached boiling point, forcing me to remind her who really was the title fighter of the family, rather than their steam and bluster counterpart.
Crying the entire way home, more from anger than anything else, I almost forget Mike was still coming over. Luckily for me, he's a good friend and a good listener as I blathered on and on about the ridiculousness of what sometimes is my family.
A game of Uno with KC, and some much needed conversation over drinks as we sat outside, the night slowly began to improve. Unfortunately, the episode did give me pause, making me rethink my position of wanting to buy this house that happens to be two doors down from my sister. As much as I like it, and as much as it would be perfect for KC and I, I think I've no other choice but to pass.
Oh well, there is a day today that needs to be started.
Damn, Damn and Double Damn
Another friggen post down the toilet as my laptop borks out on me and dumps an hours worth of blogging right down the proverbial drain.
I am much too pissed off right now to try to rewrite it all again. And I am much too irritated to continue typing. Besies the only words coming to mind right now are of the four letter variety.
I am much too pissed off right now to try to rewrite it all again. And I am much too irritated to continue typing. Besies the only words coming to mind right now are of the four letter variety.
Opening Night Performance
KC and I just returned home from Jamie's opening night performance of Oklahoma.
And I have to say, it was absolutely wonderful, despite the fact that the kids only had a mere five weeks to pull it all together.
And though this might come off as a very biased opinion, my nephew really blew the audience away as Judd Frye - a no good mangy varmint you wouldn't trust alone in a chicken house even if someone paid you to let him try.
The boy has talent, raw talent. And the kind of desire for the stage that runs deep in his blood, so that when you see him up there, you just know he was born to be on the stage. And watching him, it was almost like forgetting he was a 13 year old boy and not the man he was portraying himself to be. I am in awe and maybe even a might bit jealous, that my desire for the stage never burned that bright.
But I am proud and very impressed. And as they say in Rome, Bravo ...
And I have to say, it was absolutely wonderful, despite the fact that the kids only had a mere five weeks to pull it all together.
And though this might come off as a very biased opinion, my nephew really blew the audience away as Judd Frye - a no good mangy varmint you wouldn't trust alone in a chicken house even if someone paid you to let him try.
The boy has talent, raw talent. And the kind of desire for the stage that runs deep in his blood, so that when you see him up there, you just know he was born to be on the stage. And watching him, it was almost like forgetting he was a 13 year old boy and not the man he was portraying himself to be. I am in awe and maybe even a might bit jealous, that my desire for the stage never burned that bright.
But I am proud and very impressed. And as they say in Rome, Bravo ...
Sorry Seems To Be ...
I’ve got Hoobastank on the mind this morning, and although I love the song, I think it has more to do with the fact that I’ve heard it filtering over from Doug’s office and into mine nearly every three minutes this morning. Whether it’s the radio or whether it’s him pressing repeat repeatedly on his CD player, I have yet to decipher.
“I’m not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you.”
Surely a perfect slogan to stick on the front of a t-shirt. Lord knows, when it comes to owing apologies, I’ve more than my own fair share to make. And yet, when it comes to saying I’m sorry, I’m pretty damn stingy about admitting when I’m wrong. I guess I’m just simply human.
So today, let me be the first to climb up on the soapbox and say – in a completely unprompted fashion – that I’m sorry. Sorry if I’ve said or wrote anything that may have been a bit too much, sorry if I gave away secrets I should have kept to myself, sorry that we are or aren’t as good of friends, sisters, and sometimes even the daughter you would have me be.
Sorry because I didn’t and don’t always do the right thing. Sorry because sometimes I give up too early and at other times not soon enough. Sorry that when I cut people off, I cut them off completely in order to make a clean break believing in the motto that, “Someone’s got to stop the bleeding.” And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was divorcing myself from you to your face, sorrier still that I failed to give you - or anyone else for that matter - a decent reason why.
And mostly I’m sorry, for not always being the best Mom, I know I can and should be. Sorry for every time I’ve ever lost my patience, and yelled at you without cause or justification. Sorry for making my bad day yours. Sorry for not always putting you first, or making sure you’ve gotten everything from me that you need when you need it and not when it’s convenient for me. And I’m sorry because I’m bound to disappoint you again, no matter how hard I try not to. Sorry - because sometimes it takes me a little bit longer to learn from my mistakes and for you I wish I could be perfect.
“I’m not a perfect person. I never meant to do those things to you.”
Surely a perfect slogan to stick on the front of a t-shirt. Lord knows, when it comes to owing apologies, I’ve more than my own fair share to make. And yet, when it comes to saying I’m sorry, I’m pretty damn stingy about admitting when I’m wrong. I guess I’m just simply human.
So today, let me be the first to climb up on the soapbox and say – in a completely unprompted fashion – that I’m sorry. Sorry if I’ve said or wrote anything that may have been a bit too much, sorry if I gave away secrets I should have kept to myself, sorry that we are or aren’t as good of friends, sisters, and sometimes even the daughter you would have me be.
Sorry because I didn’t and don’t always do the right thing. Sorry because sometimes I give up too early and at other times not soon enough. Sorry that when I cut people off, I cut them off completely in order to make a clean break believing in the motto that, “Someone’s got to stop the bleeding.” And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was divorcing myself from you to your face, sorrier still that I failed to give you - or anyone else for that matter - a decent reason why.
And mostly I’m sorry, for not always being the best Mom, I know I can and should be. Sorry for every time I’ve ever lost my patience, and yelled at you without cause or justification. Sorry for making my bad day yours. Sorry for not always putting you first, or making sure you’ve gotten everything from me that you need when you need it and not when it’s convenient for me. And I’m sorry because I’m bound to disappoint you again, no matter how hard I try not to. Sorry - because sometimes it takes me a little bit longer to learn from my mistakes and for you I wish I could be perfect.
In Need of a Comfy Spot
There is absolutely no comfortable position to be in when you're attempting to type on your laptop as you're lying down on the couch. As proven by me, currently trying to find just the right way to do this without causing myself a terrible neck crink. And yes, I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that this is so not working.
Hmmmm decisions ... decisions.
Hmmmm decisions ... decisions.
Cat In a Cart
OK ... So I'm a complete dork.
Not only did Emma and I go for a car ride, but we decided to stop off at PetSmart and do a little shopping.
Do you know how odd it felt to be walking down the aisle shopping with my cat? It was one of those, I've been brain washed into thinking that this is not kosher moments. Every other step, I expected someone to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Miss, you and your cat are going to have to leave now." Instead people were stopping me to comment on how pretty and well behaved she was, as they gave her a quick pet and inquired after her name. And there I was, the proud Momma.
It reminded me of how it used to be going to the grocery store after KC was first born. The entire time we were trying to shop, complete strangers would come up to us, admiring and cooing over how cute KC was with her head full of jet black hair and her angelic little face. And at first we were like every other parent, eagerly answering all the standard questions, still a little bit in awe ourselves over what we had created. Eventually however when the newness wore off, being stopped every two seconds became tedious. We did after all have shopping to do, and strangers trying to touch the baby gave us the creeps.
Still it was an interesting experience for me, as well as for the other shoppers. I'm sure they were all quite impressed with the lady who was talking with her cat in public as if it was going to answer. It's too bad I didn't realize that was what I was doing, until I noticed someone giving me a queer stare. Aye yi yi ...
Not only did Emma and I go for a car ride, but we decided to stop off at PetSmart and do a little shopping.
Do you know how odd it felt to be walking down the aisle shopping with my cat? It was one of those, I've been brain washed into thinking that this is not kosher moments. Every other step, I expected someone to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Miss, you and your cat are going to have to leave now." Instead people were stopping me to comment on how pretty and well behaved she was, as they gave her a quick pet and inquired after her name. And there I was, the proud Momma.
It reminded me of how it used to be going to the grocery store after KC was first born. The entire time we were trying to shop, complete strangers would come up to us, admiring and cooing over how cute KC was with her head full of jet black hair and her angelic little face. And at first we were like every other parent, eagerly answering all the standard questions, still a little bit in awe ourselves over what we had created. Eventually however when the newness wore off, being stopped every two seconds became tedious. We did after all have shopping to do, and strangers trying to touch the baby gave us the creeps.
Still it was an interesting experience for me, as well as for the other shoppers. I'm sure they were all quite impressed with the lady who was talking with her cat in public as if it was going to answer. It's too bad I didn't realize that was what I was doing, until I noticed someone giving me a queer stare. Aye yi yi ...
News From the Wire
With laundry in the washer, I've started my Saturday morning towards a trend of cleaning. Although today's cleaning centers mostly around flea extermination.
Silly me gave Emma a flea bath the other night, only to accomplish one thing. It seems that once Emma was free of the fleas, they decided to hell with the cat and took over my entire household! And it's disgusting, having to run from room to room, trying to pick off fleas as you go.
So this morning is D-Day.
And it's goodbye fleas as I prepare to take drastic measures in my pest free campaign. Already, I have taken Fitzwilliam and Lizzie aka "The Birds" down to Dad's to await the fumigations.
As for Emma and I, we'll be leaving the house shortly to trek to places unknown.
On another note, it's been an intersting week. A couple of days ago, I was returning to work from my lunch break when I went past a gazillion police, fire trucks and other emergency vehicles all converged at the side of the road, near a small pond.
It turned out that a man had drowned in the pond, either by his own hand, or simply by a silly stunt turned deadly. Either way, it was an incredibly erie sight to behold.
I've also been busy getting myself pre-approved for a mortgage. Having toured a quaint little bungalow and having sufficiently fell in love, I've come to the conclusion that it's time I grew up another notch, and became a bonified homeowner.
I've still got a long way to go, but I'm hoping that within the next 6 months or so, I can put my renting days behind me.
All my sisters are home at the moment, although I shouldn't say that, as Jodi leaves today to go visit a college friend in Massachusetts for the weeek. And I believe Audrey will be momentarily heading back to Baltimore ... Which is a good thing, since between Amy and I, we've had almost all of Audrey we can take.
At 22 years of age, Aud has yet to learn the real facts of life, like how to be self-sufficient, responsible and not so centered on self. But in truth, I can't blame her entirely, she is after all a product of her environment. An environment that has spoiled her for 98.9% of her life. In a conversation with my Father, I tried to explain that their behavior of always giving in to everything she wants has truely done the girl more harm than good. You're not doing the girl any favor, I told him. But mostly, that went in one ear and then out the other.
And it's a pity. Because my sister is never going to learn how to take care of herself without having to lean on someone else to take care of the details. And that kind of crutch - sooner or later - will drop you in the grease without a hand to hold.
Ah well, there are some lessons I suppose you need to learn all on your own.
Silly me gave Emma a flea bath the other night, only to accomplish one thing. It seems that once Emma was free of the fleas, they decided to hell with the cat and took over my entire household! And it's disgusting, having to run from room to room, trying to pick off fleas as you go.
So this morning is D-Day.
And it's goodbye fleas as I prepare to take drastic measures in my pest free campaign. Already, I have taken Fitzwilliam and Lizzie aka "The Birds" down to Dad's to await the fumigations.
As for Emma and I, we'll be leaving the house shortly to trek to places unknown.
On another note, it's been an intersting week. A couple of days ago, I was returning to work from my lunch break when I went past a gazillion police, fire trucks and other emergency vehicles all converged at the side of the road, near a small pond.
It turned out that a man had drowned in the pond, either by his own hand, or simply by a silly stunt turned deadly. Either way, it was an incredibly erie sight to behold.
I've also been busy getting myself pre-approved for a mortgage. Having toured a quaint little bungalow and having sufficiently fell in love, I've come to the conclusion that it's time I grew up another notch, and became a bonified homeowner.
I've still got a long way to go, but I'm hoping that within the next 6 months or so, I can put my renting days behind me.
All my sisters are home at the moment, although I shouldn't say that, as Jodi leaves today to go visit a college friend in Massachusetts for the weeek. And I believe Audrey will be momentarily heading back to Baltimore ... Which is a good thing, since between Amy and I, we've had almost all of Audrey we can take.
At 22 years of age, Aud has yet to learn the real facts of life, like how to be self-sufficient, responsible and not so centered on self. But in truth, I can't blame her entirely, she is after all a product of her environment. An environment that has spoiled her for 98.9% of her life. In a conversation with my Father, I tried to explain that their behavior of always giving in to everything she wants has truely done the girl more harm than good. You're not doing the girl any favor, I told him. But mostly, that went in one ear and then out the other.
And it's a pity. Because my sister is never going to learn how to take care of herself without having to lean on someone else to take care of the details. And that kind of crutch - sooner or later - will drop you in the grease without a hand to hold.
Ah well, there are some lessons I suppose you need to learn all on your own.
Oceans Deep
Reading Anne Sexton is like slitting your wrist slowly over time.
Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
And I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
But that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
That I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.
- THE POET OF IGNORANCE, © Anne Sexton
Of course, what good is a poet, or for that matter a poem, without a bit of angst, without something to rage against, without something to bring us close to tears, make us think. Without feeling, wouldn’t it just be words on a page to keep turning and turning and turning, without taking a moment to breathe it all in. Read with care, someone should advertise, maybe it would be better to read her in small doses. It wouldn't do to come undone, you are after all only the reader.
Yes
I try
To kill myself in small amounts,
An innocuous occupation.
Actually I'm hung up on it.
But remember I don't make too much noise.
And frankly no one has to lug me out
And I don't stand there in my winding sheet.
I'm a little buttercup in my yellow nightie
Eating my eight loaves in a row
And in a certain orders as in
The laying of hands
Or the black sacrament.
- THE ADDICT, © Anne Sexton
I used to have notebooks of notebooks filled with poetry. The kind of things written down that you'd never want anyone else to read. Tucked away in every nook and cranny they'd be hidden, thirsty for ink, waiting. In the glove compartment, in the nightstand, in the dresser, in the drawer in the kitchen. Always somewhere handy, lingering at the surface, waiting to be found. But how embarrassing it would be to have these thoughts running amok through someone else's mind, open for misinterpretation.
When my Grandmother died, I remember sending my cousin Dan to the store to buy me a notebook, too unfamiliar with the city myself to venture out. And I wrote that night on smurf blue pages no bigger than an index card, wrote until there was nothing more I could write.
The sounds of an unfamiliar city herald the news that you are gone.
And I am lost without you
Here in the dark, standing beneath the stars on a balcony high above the ground,
Watching the glowing ember of a cigarette burning cherry red -
Though I stopped smoking years ago.
And I'm unsure of what to do,
Though my anger could fill a thousand rooms.
And I am like electricty charged without an outlet for my grief.
Standing here numb, cold black railing beneath my hands,
My voice begs to scream at the night, I wasn't there to say goodbye.
I am not ready to let you go.
You who loved me without condition
Face of my face, heart of my heart.
You who took my young hands and
Showed me the art of making meatballs,
Cooked me tubettini and ladled it into great big bowls
As we sat together in the kitchen.
Because you were my escape.
The one place where I was always safe,
And at night I'd sleep beside you in your bed,
Comforted by the sounds of your snores, my
Small body pressed up against the wall, between you and the door.
Safe from the monsters beneath the beds and the ghosts that shadowed the walls.
You can't be gone.
You can't be gone.
I don’t know how to love - to live - without you.
- © Stacey
Damn Skippy
Another post down the drain as my computer takes an unscheduled break from the task at hand. And it seems my options have narrowed down to two. I can either (a) take the damn thing to someone who will know how to fix whatever glitch it's managed to come up with now, or (b) buy a baseball bat and have at it.
And even though option B seems a hell of a lot more satisfying, I'm afraid option A is the only way to go.
I have two words. DAMN SKIPPY!!!
And even though option B seems a hell of a lot more satisfying, I'm afraid option A is the only way to go.
I have two words. DAMN SKIPPY!!!
Going, Going, Gone
"A black cat dropped soundlessly from a high wall, like a spoonful of dark treacle, and melted under a gate."
- Elizabeth Lemarchand, Alibi for a Corpse (1969)
A nice cat quote for Emma, who has been sitting at my side these past few minutes begging, as only a cat can do and still maintain her pride, for a quick rub behind the ears. And I, of course, oblige her with an obligatory scratch, having been trained well these past few years since she's been home.
KC has already crashed for the night, and I am not too far behind her. It's a sticky sort of hot in the house tonight, and I can think of nothing better than to retire to my room, where I can turn on the fan full blast and bathe myself in waves of cold, soft air. An idea that sounds so good, I've lost all will to blog much further.
In fact ...
- Elizabeth Lemarchand, Alibi for a Corpse (1969)
A nice cat quote for Emma, who has been sitting at my side these past few minutes begging, as only a cat can do and still maintain her pride, for a quick rub behind the ears. And I, of course, oblige her with an obligatory scratch, having been trained well these past few years since she's been home.
KC has already crashed for the night, and I am not too far behind her. It's a sticky sort of hot in the house tonight, and I can think of nothing better than to retire to my room, where I can turn on the fan full blast and bathe myself in waves of cold, soft air. An idea that sounds so good, I've lost all will to blog much further.
In fact ...
Reading on a Rainy Afternnon
An excerpt:
Surely spring will allow
a girl without a stitch on
to turn softly in her sunlight
and not be afraid of her bed.
She has already counted seven
blossoms in her green green mirror.
Two rivers combine beneath her.
The face of the child wrinkles
in the water and is gone forever.
The woman is all that can be seen
in her animal loveliness.
Her cherished and obstinate skin
lies deeply under the watery tree.
Everything is altogether possible
and the blind men can see also.
- Anne Sexton, "It Is A Spring Afternoon" Love Poems (1969)
Surely spring will allow
a girl without a stitch on
to turn softly in her sunlight
and not be afraid of her bed.
She has already counted seven
blossoms in her green green mirror.
Two rivers combine beneath her.
The face of the child wrinkles
in the water and is gone forever.
The woman is all that can be seen
in her animal loveliness.
Her cherished and obstinate skin
lies deeply under the watery tree.
Everything is altogether possible
and the blind men can see also.
- Anne Sexton, "It Is A Spring Afternoon" Love Poems (1969)
Good Time Had By All
"For the first time in her life she thought, might the same wonders never come again? Was each wonder original and alone like the falling star, and when it fell did it bury itself beyond where you hunted it?"
- Eudora Welty, "The Winds," The Wide Net (1943)
So it turns out that yesterday wasn't all that bad at all. KC and I had an incredible time, despite a late day thunderstorm which left the both of us soaking wet down to the skin and our feet covered with a fine layer of mud and everything outdoors.
I even participated in an egg race, taking second to Daryl, who only by his quick turn at the flagpole was able to steal first from me as I held on with all my might not to slip. But considering how many people I left in the dust, second was more than alright with me.
KC who found a forever friend in Daryl's daughter - as they were both of the same age and height - spent most of the day out in the forest adding on to a teepee that someone else had already made long before. (Though this did not stop her from trying to take credit for the entire conception of the structure.) And both the girls, despite mosquito bites which refused to be repelled by bug spray, felt very lucky to have found someone who appeared to be a carbon copy of themselves.
Argh ... Just as I thought would happen, I finished this post, having written a few more paragraphs than what you see here, and my computer borks out on me. Nothing ticks me off more than that, but what can you do? Throwing the computer out the window is not an option. Tempting yes, but no.
- Eudora Welty, "The Winds," The Wide Net (1943)
So it turns out that yesterday wasn't all that bad at all. KC and I had an incredible time, despite a late day thunderstorm which left the both of us soaking wet down to the skin and our feet covered with a fine layer of mud and everything outdoors.
I even participated in an egg race, taking second to Daryl, who only by his quick turn at the flagpole was able to steal first from me as I held on with all my might not to slip. But considering how many people I left in the dust, second was more than alright with me.
KC who found a forever friend in Daryl's daughter - as they were both of the same age and height - spent most of the day out in the forest adding on to a teepee that someone else had already made long before. (Though this did not stop her from trying to take credit for the entire conception of the structure.) And both the girls, despite mosquito bites which refused to be repelled by bug spray, felt very lucky to have found someone who appeared to be a carbon copy of themselves.
Argh ... Just as I thought would happen, I finished this post, having written a few more paragraphs than what you see here, and my computer borks out on me. Nothing ticks me off more than that, but what can you do? Throwing the computer out the window is not an option. Tempting yes, but no.
High Druthers
"The next best thing to being clever is being able to quote someone who is."
- Mary Pettibone Poole, A Glass Eye at a Keyhole (1938)
I wish I could say that I've spent hours and hours pouring over random books and magazines, in search of the perfect quote for every occassion, but the truth is I haven't and I don't. I've got The New Beacon Book of Quotations By Women to thank. Organized from A to Z, it's got over 16,000 quotations that come in handy for almost any situation you can think of.
Don't have one? What are you waiting for? Get to your local Barnes and Noble today!
In other news, KC has decided to spend most of this morning in a high druther. Just a moment ago stomping upstairs when I asked her to go locate two pretties for her hair so I can get her ready for today's outing.
"I don't want pigtails!" she shouted, balling her hands into fists at her side. "I'll look like a baby!"
"You won't look like a baby unless you act like one," I quipped back at her, just in time to see her roll her eyes, spinning on her heels to march upstairs.
"I'm only having one ponytail!" she shouted again.
And I'm only having one child, I thought to myself ...
- Mary Pettibone Poole, A Glass Eye at a Keyhole (1938)
I wish I could say that I've spent hours and hours pouring over random books and magazines, in search of the perfect quote for every occassion, but the truth is I haven't and I don't. I've got The New Beacon Book of Quotations By Women to thank. Organized from A to Z, it's got over 16,000 quotations that come in handy for almost any situation you can think of.
Don't have one? What are you waiting for? Get to your local Barnes and Noble today!
In other news, KC has decided to spend most of this morning in a high druther. Just a moment ago stomping upstairs when I asked her to go locate two pretties for her hair so I can get her ready for today's outing.
"I don't want pigtails!" she shouted, balling her hands into fists at her side. "I'll look like a baby!"
"You won't look like a baby unless you act like one," I quipped back at her, just in time to see her roll her eyes, spinning on her heels to march upstairs.
"I'm only having one ponytail!" she shouted again.
And I'm only having one child, I thought to myself ...
And on the Other Side
"I shall live bad if I do not write and I shall write bad if I do not live."
- Francoise Sagan, in The New York Times Book Review (1956)
I'm supposed to be making brownies right now for tomorrow's company picnic. But instead I've been sitting here for the past few minutes, staring out the window at cows in the field across the road, watching as their tails flick back and forth waving away what must be flies.
I'm not all that keyed up to go to this years picnic. A few months ago, I had the idea that this year was going to be different and that for once, I didn't have to feel like a loser - for lack of a better word, which there is not - for once again showing up dateless.
It's gotten so bad, that even the young chippies at work, barely out of their bubble gum and braces make snide comments when passing in the hall. And it's my husband this, or my boyfriend that and how can you stand being alone?
Barraged by their questions and their opinions, I seldom stop long enough to impart knowledge where there is no light. And yet, I try to remember myself at their age, that blissful ignorance of youth, and wonder if I myself was ever that naive to think that my entire existence must evolve around men.
Still there is small part of me that wished I had someone I could lean on. Someone to call in times of crisis and someone who would say, "What can I do for you Stacey?" rather than "What can you do for me?"
I don't pretend that I wouldn't find it nice to come home to someone waiting for me to walk through the door, and ask me how my day has been. But at the same time, I have learned that it is possible to live without as well.
Being single isn't all that bad when you think about it. I have a certain freedom that you cannot have when in a relationship. And after 10 years on my own, I imagine it would be hard to live any other way. Of course, I've never had the opportunity to prove myself wrong ...
So what is this post all about. Quite frankly, I don't have a clue. But since I was here, I thought I'd just say what was on my mind.
Off to make brownies. If you're nice, maybe I'll save you one.
- Francoise Sagan, in The New York Times Book Review (1956)
I'm supposed to be making brownies right now for tomorrow's company picnic. But instead I've been sitting here for the past few minutes, staring out the window at cows in the field across the road, watching as their tails flick back and forth waving away what must be flies.
I'm not all that keyed up to go to this years picnic. A few months ago, I had the idea that this year was going to be different and that for once, I didn't have to feel like a loser - for lack of a better word, which there is not - for once again showing up dateless.
It's gotten so bad, that even the young chippies at work, barely out of their bubble gum and braces make snide comments when passing in the hall. And it's my husband this, or my boyfriend that and how can you stand being alone?
Barraged by their questions and their opinions, I seldom stop long enough to impart knowledge where there is no light. And yet, I try to remember myself at their age, that blissful ignorance of youth, and wonder if I myself was ever that naive to think that my entire existence must evolve around men.
Still there is small part of me that wished I had someone I could lean on. Someone to call in times of crisis and someone who would say, "What can I do for you Stacey?" rather than "What can you do for me?"
I don't pretend that I wouldn't find it nice to come home to someone waiting for me to walk through the door, and ask me how my day has been. But at the same time, I have learned that it is possible to live without as well.
Being single isn't all that bad when you think about it. I have a certain freedom that you cannot have when in a relationship. And after 10 years on my own, I imagine it would be hard to live any other way. Of course, I've never had the opportunity to prove myself wrong ...
So what is this post all about. Quite frankly, I don't have a clue. But since I was here, I thought I'd just say what was on my mind.
Off to make brownies. If you're nice, maybe I'll save you one.
Irritation
Blogger is being annoying. Seems like the downtime has managed to cause a few problems for NWTLO ... That or it could be user error.
Back to the drawing board!
Back to the drawing board!
Sigh of Relief
My new alarm clock sucks.
Today marked day number three of the damn thing not buzzing me awake when it was supposed to. And all I can say is thank God for my internal alarm clock saving the day. ( Although don't think that will stop me from cursing the hell out of it on weekends.)
Just got back to work from a quick trip home to meet the new landlords of my building for an apartment inspection. Things went well considering that I (a) own an illegal cat and two parakeets, (b) have painted both upstairs bedrooms outlandish colors not attractive to the common man (chocolate brown and watermelon pink - respectively of course) and (c) had to prevent pools of drool from dripping from my mouth.
Aye caramba!
The new LL is a tall drink of water. As in tall, (at least 6 ft or better) dark, (short brown hair spiked to razor like perfection) and handsome (I did say drool, didn't I?) with steel gray eyes and a smile as white as it is nice. And his last name isn't so bad either. In fact, if I were to marry him (not bloody likely after only one meeting) I'd only have to change one letter in my last name to match his. Of course, marrying an Italian boy is not big on my list of things to do. Because - and quite frankly from personal experience and opinion - Italian men can be royal pains in the arses, especially if their Italian Momma's coddled them their entire lives and they've grown up with the everything is about me attitude that seems to be a featured characteristic of all, ok … Well most Italian men. Marriage in general however … That I could deal with, if I ever found the right guy. Perhaps I should use the blog as a dating tool, "Now accepting applications. Apply within." Who knows, it might just be a double edged sword, upping my regular reader levels and getting me a date as well. Hmmmm … Something to think about.
What else to report … Other than my failure to post for two days has me feelings like my blogging karma is completely out of whack. And Lord, the guilt. I signed on late to my computer last night and had every intention of posting something really quick and meaningless - for posting's sake - only to get a message that Blogger was temporarily down for repairs. Funny thing is, I was rather happy about it since I was way too tired to be posting anything anyway. Which is not to mention that posting that late at night would have only inspired absolute drivel … Not that being fully conscious has ever inspired anything greater than that.
But I'm back. Feeling better about the whole thing, although a little crispy around the edges from my third degree sunburn left over from Sunday's pool time excursion minus the sun block. One would think after almost 30 years, I would have figured out by now, that I am only lying to myself when I say, "I tan … I don't burn."
Today marked day number three of the damn thing not buzzing me awake when it was supposed to. And all I can say is thank God for my internal alarm clock saving the day. ( Although don't think that will stop me from cursing the hell out of it on weekends.)
Just got back to work from a quick trip home to meet the new landlords of my building for an apartment inspection. Things went well considering that I (a) own an illegal cat and two parakeets, (b) have painted both upstairs bedrooms outlandish colors not attractive to the common man (chocolate brown and watermelon pink - respectively of course) and (c) had to prevent pools of drool from dripping from my mouth.
Aye caramba!
The new LL is a tall drink of water. As in tall, (at least 6 ft or better) dark, (short brown hair spiked to razor like perfection) and handsome (I did say drool, didn't I?) with steel gray eyes and a smile as white as it is nice. And his last name isn't so bad either. In fact, if I were to marry him (not bloody likely after only one meeting) I'd only have to change one letter in my last name to match his. Of course, marrying an Italian boy is not big on my list of things to do. Because - and quite frankly from personal experience and opinion - Italian men can be royal pains in the arses, especially if their Italian Momma's coddled them their entire lives and they've grown up with the everything is about me attitude that seems to be a featured characteristic of all, ok … Well most Italian men. Marriage in general however … That I could deal with, if I ever found the right guy. Perhaps I should use the blog as a dating tool, "Now accepting applications. Apply within." Who knows, it might just be a double edged sword, upping my regular reader levels and getting me a date as well. Hmmmm … Something to think about.
What else to report … Other than my failure to post for two days has me feelings like my blogging karma is completely out of whack. And Lord, the guilt. I signed on late to my computer last night and had every intention of posting something really quick and meaningless - for posting's sake - only to get a message that Blogger was temporarily down for repairs. Funny thing is, I was rather happy about it since I was way too tired to be posting anything anyway. Which is not to mention that posting that late at night would have only inspired absolute drivel … Not that being fully conscious has ever inspired anything greater than that.
But I'm back. Feeling better about the whole thing, although a little crispy around the edges from my third degree sunburn left over from Sunday's pool time excursion minus the sun block. One would think after almost 30 years, I would have figured out by now, that I am only lying to myself when I say, "I tan … I don't burn."
Jordy's awake and settled back down in my bed watching cartoons, after spending the last few minutes nearly talking my ear off. It's amazing what a contrast she is to KC in the morning. The last thing KC is in the morning, is cheerful. I've often joked many a time, that KC doesn't just wake up on the wrong side of the bed, she wakes up on the wrong side of the hemisphere.
Jordy however is like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. All smiles and good will as she wakes, ready to shuck the mantle of sleep quickly in favor of starting a new day.
I myself must admit to being somewhere in the far middle of the two. I've been known to growl like a bear hibernating in her den at those who risk waking me too early, as well as be described as cuddly as a lamb, during an early morning snuggle. This morning finds me leaning more towards lamb than bear with the snuggle option obsolete for the time being.
Much to do today, starting with getting all the young ones breakfast, cleaning the house and then spending the rest of the day sunning and swimming in the pool.
Sigh ... You just got to love weekends.
Jordy however is like the first rays of sunlight at dawn. All smiles and good will as she wakes, ready to shuck the mantle of sleep quickly in favor of starting a new day.
I myself must admit to being somewhere in the far middle of the two. I've been known to growl like a bear hibernating in her den at those who risk waking me too early, as well as be described as cuddly as a lamb, during an early morning snuggle. This morning finds me leaning more towards lamb than bear with the snuggle option obsolete for the time being.
Much to do today, starting with getting all the young ones breakfast, cleaning the house and then spending the rest of the day sunning and swimming in the pool.
Sigh ... You just got to love weekends.
Time for Zzzz's
Funny how on weekends KC is gone to her Dad's, I always manage to find a way to lose my alone time. (I think I may do this on purpose. Not sure yet ...)
My niece Jordy is already sleeping on the couch, tuckered out from our earlier swim in Grandpa's pool. Meanwhile my nephew James, has taken over the remote control to the tv and is clicking away.
Bren and I went shopping earlier today. Didn't really get anything all that exciting, but it was nice to get out of the house for a bit. We did however see a man taking a leak on the side of the road, on our way back home. And even though one would have thought that he might have chosen a more secluded spot rather than a major highway jam packed with cars, he was there for all to see. Still we were impressed - seeing the "stream" from across a far distance - and I couldn't resist reaching over to honk the horn to tell him so.
I am about blogged out tonight, so that's it for me. I am to bed.
My niece Jordy is already sleeping on the couch, tuckered out from our earlier swim in Grandpa's pool. Meanwhile my nephew James, has taken over the remote control to the tv and is clicking away.
Bren and I went shopping earlier today. Didn't really get anything all that exciting, but it was nice to get out of the house for a bit. We did however see a man taking a leak on the side of the road, on our way back home. And even though one would have thought that he might have chosen a more secluded spot rather than a major highway jam packed with cars, he was there for all to see. Still we were impressed - seeing the "stream" from across a far distance - and I couldn't resist reaching over to honk the horn to tell him so.
I am about blogged out tonight, so that's it for me. I am to bed.
Poker Face
I have this insane urge to go out and buy a new deck of cards and some poker chips. Ever since I started watching Bravo's Celeb Poker with my favorite, former KITH member Dave Foley, I've been glued to my television set, perfecting my Texas hold'em.
I've even started having visions of getting a few girls together for a ladies poker night. Which by most people's standards, means I'm getting really old or really strange. Oh well, it could be worse. It could be Bridge.
Anyhoo gotta go. We're about to shuffle up and deal.
I've even started having visions of getting a few girls together for a ladies poker night. Which by most people's standards, means I'm getting really old or really strange. Oh well, it could be worse. It could be Bridge.
Anyhoo gotta go. We're about to shuffle up and deal.
JT and Me
I've been walking around the house aimlessly now for over half an hour, listening to the sound of the thunderstorm raging outside and the sound of James Taylor's voice crooning in my head.
Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,
I just can't remember who to send it to.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.
I'm trying very hard to avoid the melancholy, but weather like this, has a way of undoing progress. That being said, I'm going to go hide beneath the covers with a flashlight and a book.
Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone.
Suzanne, the plans they made put an end to you.
I walked out this morning and I wrote down this song,
I just can't remember who to send it to.
I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end.
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.
I'm trying very hard to avoid the melancholy, but weather like this, has a way of undoing progress. That being said, I'm going to go hide beneath the covers with a flashlight and a book.
Maybe A Fresh Start
I'm half awake, just conscious enough to type but in no way able to think with a clear and rational head.
I was talking with my Dad tonight and told him I could really see myself living up in Glens Falls. I even told him that I had went as far as to check out the help wanted ads as well as the average cost of rent for someone not looking to buy a house right away.
My Dad of course thinks I'm nuts. "Sure you like it now ... But what happens come winter? You might be changing your tune then.", he warned, trying to sound casual about the whole thing even though his face said he didn't think much of my idea at all.
But for now, it's just a thought swimming around in the back of my head.
I was talking with my Dad tonight and told him I could really see myself living up in Glens Falls. I even told him that I had went as far as to check out the help wanted ads as well as the average cost of rent for someone not looking to buy a house right away.
My Dad of course thinks I'm nuts. "Sure you like it now ... But what happens come winter? You might be changing your tune then.", he warned, trying to sound casual about the whole thing even though his face said he didn't think much of my idea at all.
But for now, it's just a thought swimming around in the back of my head.
Home Sweet Home
My ass is numb ... Yet I am home.
Had a great weekend, despite mounds of traffic and one inconsiderate jerk who cut me off on the Northway. I felt much better after giving him the finger and mouthing an obscenity out the window.
Didn't see much in the way of fireworks, although I did hear a great many. Being up in the mountains doesn't really make for great viewing options.
Well, I've got a pizza in the oven, and some unpacking to do as well as a few phone calls to make so I am off. Until later duckies.
Had a great weekend, despite mounds of traffic and one inconsiderate jerk who cut me off on the Northway. I felt much better after giving him the finger and mouthing an obscenity out the window.
Didn't see much in the way of fireworks, although I did hear a great many. Being up in the mountains doesn't really make for great viewing options.
Well, I've got a pizza in the oven, and some unpacking to do as well as a few phone calls to make so I am off. Until later duckies.
Hitting the Open Road
About to start the packing I meant to do last night until I stuck my nose in a book and ended that idea before I'd even begun.
KC's not feeling all that well and I am concerned that this trip is going to be doomed before its even started. At this point, I think it was just too much fun and excitement in the sun today which has her feeling out of sorts. At least I hope so.
Not going to be a long post tonight, as I want to get the car packed and ready to go for an early leave in the morning. My plan is to be on the road by 4:30 am, thereby cutting off most in not all of the holiday traffic for my short 3 hour drive.
Still questioning whether or not I'll be bringing my lap top with me, so I can maintain posting. But I have a feeling I will be leaving it home this weekend. Anyone who desperately needs me, knows how to get a hold of me and anyone else, I'm sure can live without me for a couple of days.
With that, I'm off.
Wishing you all a Happy and SAFE 4th of July.
NWTLO temporarily signing off.
KC's not feeling all that well and I am concerned that this trip is going to be doomed before its even started. At this point, I think it was just too much fun and excitement in the sun today which has her feeling out of sorts. At least I hope so.
Not going to be a long post tonight, as I want to get the car packed and ready to go for an early leave in the morning. My plan is to be on the road by 4:30 am, thereby cutting off most in not all of the holiday traffic for my short 3 hour drive.
Still questioning whether or not I'll be bringing my lap top with me, so I can maintain posting. But I have a feeling I will be leaving it home this weekend. Anyone who desperately needs me, knows how to get a hold of me and anyone else, I'm sure can live without me for a couple of days.
With that, I'm off.
Wishing you all a Happy and SAFE 4th of July.
NWTLO temporarily signing off.
A Path of Crumbs
Heading out of town this weekend. Still trying to decide whether or not I want to leave after work tomorrow night or get an early start Saturday morning before all the holiday traffic has a chance to hit the roads. Either way I couldn't have picked a worse weekend for travel. Lord knows, I get nervous enough driving outside the small area of my comfort zone. And now, just the thought of the Northway, with 3 lanes of speeding holiday, heading to Lake George traffic is enough to make my knuckles white with fear.
Because I am a complete chicken when it comes to travel. Ask anyone. I totally freak myself out over the smallest things. As my Mother reminded me today, "Stacey you know the way there. You've only spent the last 29 years of your life going the same way. There's no way you could forget where you're going."
And yet, if it were possible I could and I would.
Off to pack ... More from me tomorrow.
Because I am a complete chicken when it comes to travel. Ask anyone. I totally freak myself out over the smallest things. As my Mother reminded me today, "Stacey you know the way there. You've only spent the last 29 years of your life going the same way. There's no way you could forget where you're going."
And yet, if it were possible I could and I would.
Off to pack ... More from me tomorrow.
Days of My Life
What the hell day is it?
I just figured out that I spent all of yesterday thinking it was Thursday, only to find out this morning - as in just a few minutes ago - that today was Thursday, and yesterday was indeed Wednesday, no matter how much I treated it like a Thursday.
This would explain why nobody else cleaned their front or back porches yesterday like yours truly did for the power washers that are coming TODAY, and why when I got home - horribly late from work last night - the house didn't appear to be very clean at all. Because - and let me say this again for all of you who are still sleeping - they're coming TODAY. Today as in Thursday, which is not Wednesday, which is what is was yesterday. Which is why I was the only idiot cleaning her porch yesterday morning before going to work.
And did I mention I wore jeans to work yesterday? A major no no, but being that my give a shit factor was at an all time low, I figured if anyone wanted to give me grief, I was fully prepared to give them hell. Funny thing however, other than a few glances, everyone kept their mouths most conveniently shut.
I still got my ass kicked yesterday though. My desk was a complete mess, and no matter how I plugged along throughout the whole day, even working through my lunch - as usual - I couldn't catch up. So I had to weigh my options to either stay late and get things caught up or leave it for the this morning and risk having another busy ass day playing catch up. The choice was obvious ...
Smart girls always stay late and get what they need done. Even when they're salary and don't get paid overtime. Sick? Yup ... Necessary? Unfortunately.
Oh well, time to make the doughnuts.
I just figured out that I spent all of yesterday thinking it was Thursday, only to find out this morning - as in just a few minutes ago - that today was Thursday, and yesterday was indeed Wednesday, no matter how much I treated it like a Thursday.
This would explain why nobody else cleaned their front or back porches yesterday like yours truly did for the power washers that are coming TODAY, and why when I got home - horribly late from work last night - the house didn't appear to be very clean at all. Because - and let me say this again for all of you who are still sleeping - they're coming TODAY. Today as in Thursday, which is not Wednesday, which is what is was yesterday. Which is why I was the only idiot cleaning her porch yesterday morning before going to work.
And did I mention I wore jeans to work yesterday? A major no no, but being that my give a shit factor was at an all time low, I figured if anyone wanted to give me grief, I was fully prepared to give them hell. Funny thing however, other than a few glances, everyone kept their mouths most conveniently shut.
I still got my ass kicked yesterday though. My desk was a complete mess, and no matter how I plugged along throughout the whole day, even working through my lunch - as usual - I couldn't catch up. So I had to weigh my options to either stay late and get things caught up or leave it for the this morning and risk having another busy ass day playing catch up. The choice was obvious ...
Smart girls always stay late and get what they need done. Even when they're salary and don't get paid overtime. Sick? Yup ... Necessary? Unfortunately.
Oh well, time to make the doughnuts.
