When bitching becomes a full time job, all I've got to say is, "I'm hired!"
Someone after all has got to point out where everyone on this planet is going wrong... From the waitress who never bothers to take your order fifteen minutes after you've been seated, to the moronic check out girl who cocks you the one second finger gesture in order to answer her cell phone be-bopping from her back pocket rather than wait on you, the customer.
Far be it for me to be the bearer of bad news but the absolute truth is that the days of good old fashioned customer service with a smile have long since left us with a poor imitation of what it actually is to what it ought to and damn well should be.
The thing is blaming the small fry who forgot your small fries or giving a brief and yet well punctuated lecture to the unsuspecting perpetrator of a really crummy service crime isn't nearly enough. Complaining on any level has to be taken to the top where the response to your plea garners far more than complete indifference followed by mindless eye rolling. At least you hope it does...
Unfortunately my daughter doesn't quite yet agree that situations such as these should be dealt with head on. Her idea of beating bad service is to slink out quietly without a fuss and say nothing. And though I could have once seen her point, I am far too much like my Mother to let these little things go without so much as a how do you do... Proof positive that with age not only comes wisdom and maturity but also the ability to bitch with good reason.
I consider it a skill... A life learning lesson between what's right and what's wrong and when it's wrong, I like people to know about it. After all if no one puts Baby in a corner, than Stacey (this would be me speaking of myself in third person and therefore the ultimate sign of I've got my own issues here to deal with) isn't going to sit quietly in the corner either.
And that's exactly where I was a few weeks ago when KC and I decided to go out on a Friday night for a little Mother/Daughter bonding over dinner made by someone else. Daughter's choice brought us to a local place just down the road a wee bit from where we live, a place that for the sake of this particular story I will call Carmen's where we walked in at precisely five o'clock and walked right back out of fifteen minutes later after we were literally seated and then completely forgotten about.
To know me is to know two things... (1)I've little patience for complete and utter stupidity and (2)Patience is one of those virtues I just don't have. And when my patience has been pricked, it normally results in a verbal mudslide either eloquently put or right down and dirty going after you with an ice pick precision of let me pour it on until you can't take it anymore, listen to me I've got something to say bitch session.
True to form it didn't take me long to get irritated by being ignored. After five minutes of mindless waiting, KC was well aware that dinner as planned wasn't going to be a smooth and easy affair. She tried making up her own set of excuses, "Wow. They're really busy in here," she said, looking around as if the cluster of we're just here for happy hour people constituted a great rush on the dining room's waitstaff. Meanwhile I eyeballed not one, but four waitresses standing around watching each other stand around. I was not happy...
I was not happy five minutes later whilst I was still waiting for someone to remember us, sitting there waiting without even a drink to wet our whistles let alone take our order... I eyeballed my cell phone, noting the time...
Speaking of time... Let me pause here to say, I'm going to have to part two you on this little event as it is now 11:20 (also known as my "special time") and my need to go to bed has far surpassed my need to finish this story... At least at the present time.
I know this is a bit weird to come out of the blue like this when things were just starting to sum themselves up quite nicely, but as in life, one must deal with the hand their dealt...
Tune in tomorrow, as I assure you that yes, there will be more...
Proud To Be A Democrat (Win or Lose)
I know... I know... I'm a bad little non-blogging blogger... But even so, you had to know I'd be around tonight watching my TV as if my eyes were glued to the screen with my fingers crossed and my heart hoping that the future of our country is about to change...
Change for the better that is...
So if I wake up tomorrow morning and I hear that Senator Obama will indeed become President Obama, I'm going to be one happy woman... On the flip side of the coin, if I hear McCain took the prize, I'm going to throw the covers back over my head, cover my face with a pillow (maybe even two) and scream like no one has ever heard a woman scream before...
That however is not something I want to even contemplate for too long... After all, I've been constantly reminded for the last eight years what's it like to have a republican at the helm... (Not that they're all bad... They're just not democrats!)
Change for the better that is...
So if I wake up tomorrow morning and I hear that Senator Obama will indeed become President Obama, I'm going to be one happy woman... On the flip side of the coin, if I hear McCain took the prize, I'm going to throw the covers back over my head, cover my face with a pillow (maybe even two) and scream like no one has ever heard a woman scream before...
That however is not something I want to even contemplate for too long... After all, I've been constantly reminded for the last eight years what's it like to have a republican at the helm... (Not that they're all bad... They're just not democrats!)
Something Short of Extraordinary
It's far too late to post, though truth be told, this one was going to be far easier on the eyes than what I've given you to read lately...
It will however have to keep until tomorrow when I'm not falling asleep in my chair, in front of my computer, freezing my little non-painted toes off.
And though technically tomorrow is already today, it's still going to have to wait until much later.
It will however have to keep until tomorrow when I'm not falling asleep in my chair, in front of my computer, freezing my little non-painted toes off.
And though technically tomorrow is already today, it's still going to have to wait until much later.
Straight Out of the Fog
Sometimes it's easier to hide behind a wall of words. Walking your way gently around the edges, coming just within reach of the moment you might, before hitting the wall of can't take the chance just yet.
Sometimes something needs to be said so loudly that the only way to contain it is to silence it completely from the outside world. You shelter it as if it needs protection. You give it plenty of space to call its own, but somewhere along the way you sacrifice yourself to keep your secret.
Sometimes it's easier to tell a complete stranger. Someone who has absolutely no expectations of their relationship with you. Someone who doesn't feel the need to say anything at all when you open up your mouth and speak. Someone whose reaction doesn't cause you worry. Someones whose feelings you feel no need to spare.
You give them bare facts without embellishments, the essence of every hurt, the freedom of every tear, the anger that you don't quite know how to express. You allow yourself to become vulnerable, opening up every door you've ever locked to let them see a glimpse of what's truly inside.
And then as quickly as you found yourself sitting in a room with a complete stranger telling her most of everything you've ever wanted to say, you suddenly go back to being silent. Like you cleared your plate after the meal was over, pushed yourself away from the table and went about business as usual as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
You didn't solve the worlds problems. You didn't even really solve your own. You simply let them breathe for a short while, and then returned them to the same exact place you'd been sheltering them for years. Holding on to them like precious jewels, valuables you didn't want to give away, refusing to let them go in a direction that did not take you along for the ride.
You did more damage to yourself willingly than the damage you could not control. Sanctioning it as safety and not the true case of neglect it turned out to be. You cannot forget yourself no matter how hard you try... And forgiving yourself some days seems all but impossible.
Bright lights however have a habit of shining. Beacons that call you forth from the ever present gloom. Moments when the world around you is so much bigger than the environment you've created. Times that call upon every ounce of strength you have to think of something more than just yourself while presenting the opportunity to find yourself all the same.
And you decide that inspiration doesn't always come in a pretty package with a red satin bow. Inspiration can grow like a flower watered by loss, in a body that still breathes for a second chance. And you stop waiting for someone else to hold your hand and lead the way, taking that first difficult step all on your own.
You say to yourself no more excuses. No more reasons why you won't. And you begin to list all the reasons why you can, why you will, and why you won't fail yourself this time around.
Because the truth is, you don't need to hide.
Sometimes something needs to be said so loudly that the only way to contain it is to silence it completely from the outside world. You shelter it as if it needs protection. You give it plenty of space to call its own, but somewhere along the way you sacrifice yourself to keep your secret.
Sometimes it's easier to tell a complete stranger. Someone who has absolutely no expectations of their relationship with you. Someone who doesn't feel the need to say anything at all when you open up your mouth and speak. Someone whose reaction doesn't cause you worry. Someones whose feelings you feel no need to spare.
You give them bare facts without embellishments, the essence of every hurt, the freedom of every tear, the anger that you don't quite know how to express. You allow yourself to become vulnerable, opening up every door you've ever locked to let them see a glimpse of what's truly inside.
And then as quickly as you found yourself sitting in a room with a complete stranger telling her most of everything you've ever wanted to say, you suddenly go back to being silent. Like you cleared your plate after the meal was over, pushed yourself away from the table and went about business as usual as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
You didn't solve the worlds problems. You didn't even really solve your own. You simply let them breathe for a short while, and then returned them to the same exact place you'd been sheltering them for years. Holding on to them like precious jewels, valuables you didn't want to give away, refusing to let them go in a direction that did not take you along for the ride.
You did more damage to yourself willingly than the damage you could not control. Sanctioning it as safety and not the true case of neglect it turned out to be. You cannot forget yourself no matter how hard you try... And forgiving yourself some days seems all but impossible.
Bright lights however have a habit of shining. Beacons that call you forth from the ever present gloom. Moments when the world around you is so much bigger than the environment you've created. Times that call upon every ounce of strength you have to think of something more than just yourself while presenting the opportunity to find yourself all the same.
And you decide that inspiration doesn't always come in a pretty package with a red satin bow. Inspiration can grow like a flower watered by loss, in a body that still breathes for a second chance. And you stop waiting for someone else to hold your hand and lead the way, taking that first difficult step all on your own.
You say to yourself no more excuses. No more reasons why you won't. And you begin to list all the reasons why you can, why you will, and why you won't fail yourself this time around.
Because the truth is, you don't need to hide.
Stuck In the Middle
Fear can make you stop dead in your tracks. And you stand still, hoping no one will notice that you've stopped while all the world continues on around without you. You learn to imitate its motions, going so naturally with the flow that you almost feel as if you could still be moving. So you begin to believe that being alive is half truth and half compromise. You give up what you have given up on. And you tell yourself that you can live like this, for a day, a month, a year, until you prove that you can regardless of how much you don't want to.
You think in some small way this makes life that much easier. To throw in the towel and wash your hands of the whole affair. To pretend you are who you always were and that nothing has changed you. But it has been years since you have been yourself and even longer since you have recognized your own face in the mirror.
You learned how to be defeated. To give up your dreams freely rather than allow for even one to be stolen. You blamed yourself for having too much confidence, too much pride. So you left yourself with none to even out of the score.
You gave yourself a rigid line of rules and held yourself straight and learned how to lean without bending. To say just enough without saying anything at all. To pretend not to understand while understanding more than they could ever know. You gave them all what they wanted, exactly what and whom they expected to see, fooling them all with the simple act of holding your tongue, knowing what words to keep and which words to say...
And you wait, preparing yourself, thinking maybe yes, this time you'll be brave enough to say exactly what you mean. Maybe then you'll understand how to cross the bridge and gain some distance.
You think in some small way this makes life that much easier. To throw in the towel and wash your hands of the whole affair. To pretend you are who you always were and that nothing has changed you. But it has been years since you have been yourself and even longer since you have recognized your own face in the mirror.
You learned how to be defeated. To give up your dreams freely rather than allow for even one to be stolen. You blamed yourself for having too much confidence, too much pride. So you left yourself with none to even out of the score.
You gave yourself a rigid line of rules and held yourself straight and learned how to lean without bending. To say just enough without saying anything at all. To pretend not to understand while understanding more than they could ever know. You gave them all what they wanted, exactly what and whom they expected to see, fooling them all with the simple act of holding your tongue, knowing what words to keep and which words to say...
And you wait, preparing yourself, thinking maybe yes, this time you'll be brave enough to say exactly what you mean. Maybe then you'll understand how to cross the bridge and gain some distance.
Compelling Is the Need To Be Funny
I am feeling the need to be serious coming on, but today, at this exact moment in time, I am more willing than not to overlook this need in favor of another.
Life after all cannot be completely serious from one minute to the next. Not if you want to have anything close to being considered a sense of humor and now that Ron has elected my blog for a status of reward based on the fact that he reads me and finds me funny (at least upon occasion) it puts all sorts of pressure on a girl to maintain the status quo.
I'm not sure I can do forced funny though. I mean if you're trying too hard to do anything, funny included, you end up being everything but the funny you meant yourself to be and you wind up being very unfunny, uninteresting, single, depressed and wondering why the only men who seem to be interested in you are the ones that make the idea of becoming a lesbian a viable option.
Life after all cannot be completely serious from one minute to the next. Not if you want to have anything close to being considered a sense of humor and now that Ron has elected my blog for a status of reward based on the fact that he reads me and finds me funny (at least upon occasion) it puts all sorts of pressure on a girl to maintain the status quo.
I'm not sure I can do forced funny though. I mean if you're trying too hard to do anything, funny included, you end up being everything but the funny you meant yourself to be and you wind up being very unfunny, uninteresting, single, depressed and wondering why the only men who seem to be interested in you are the ones that make the idea of becoming a lesbian a viable option.
So thanks to Ron for stressing me out! At least I know Connecticut is close by and I can still get married should I ever decide to go girl...
(Time out for a moment of seriousness... As a liberal democrat, I do believe that same sex couples should have equal rights under the laws of our land to marry. It may not be a popular opinion, but it's mine and I believe our America was built on the belief of being fair, free and equal for all and not just for some. If I ever run for a goverment office, you can bet I'll run on a ticket that is as honest as the day is long... And just to prove it, I have smoked weed and I would have been a complete moron had I not inhaled!)
Now back to trying to be funny...
Therefore if my blog is no longer funny, know this, I blame Ron. Say it with me now, "It's all Ron's fault from Troubled Ramblings with his award giving ways."
Funny however had me in stitches yesterday when my local library called me at my office to let me know we had an overdue. Or as I should really say that KC, the girl who doesn't like to read like her Mother likes to read, and shouldn't be allowed to take more than one book out from the library at a time without signing a promissory note to actually read it when she gets it home, has an overdue book that needs to be returned.
And so I asked the librarian as I am wont to ask questions when a question must be asked, "Could you tell me the title of the book that needs to be returned?"
Now librarians are normally pretty quick on their game being as they deal daily with a whole lot of black and white issues, and so I was a bit surprised when she paused, in this really big sort of dramatic pause kind of way and said, "I'd tell you that I love you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Oh yes, I tell you there is a God in heaven and I've little doubt he made this moment just for me. Because you know that I know that there is no way I'm going to resist the opportunity for making the most out of any moment where the punchline has been willingly supplied from the innocent and unsuspecting.
I beamed a smile across my face, sat forward in my chair, my elbows propped up on the edge of my desk and replied, maybe a little too eagerly now that I think about it, "Wow. I had no idea you felt this way." Letting the moment hang there just long enough to be slightly uncomfortable in a completely funny (see Ron, still funny) kind of way before letting her off the hook and saying "I take it that's the title of the book..."
(Time out for a moment of seriousness... As a liberal democrat, I do believe that same sex couples should have equal rights under the laws of our land to marry. It may not be a popular opinion, but it's mine and I believe our America was built on the belief of being fair, free and equal for all and not just for some. If I ever run for a goverment office, you can bet I'll run on a ticket that is as honest as the day is long... And just to prove it, I have smoked weed and I would have been a complete moron had I not inhaled!)
Now back to trying to be funny...
Therefore if my blog is no longer funny, know this, I blame Ron. Say it with me now, "It's all Ron's fault from Troubled Ramblings with his award giving ways."
Funny however had me in stitches yesterday when my local library called me at my office to let me know we had an overdue. Or as I should really say that KC, the girl who doesn't like to read like her Mother likes to read, and shouldn't be allowed to take more than one book out from the library at a time without signing a promissory note to actually read it when she gets it home, has an overdue book that needs to be returned.
And so I asked the librarian as I am wont to ask questions when a question must be asked, "Could you tell me the title of the book that needs to be returned?"
Now librarians are normally pretty quick on their game being as they deal daily with a whole lot of black and white issues, and so I was a bit surprised when she paused, in this really big sort of dramatic pause kind of way and said, "I'd tell you that I love you, but then I'd have to kill you."Oh yes, I tell you there is a God in heaven and I've little doubt he made this moment just for me. Because you know that I know that there is no way I'm going to resist the opportunity for making the most out of any moment where the punchline has been willingly supplied from the innocent and unsuspecting.
I beamed a smile across my face, sat forward in my chair, my elbows propped up on the edge of my desk and replied, maybe a little too eagerly now that I think about it, "Wow. I had no idea you felt this way." Letting the moment hang there just long enough to be slightly uncomfortable in a completely funny (see Ron, still funny) kind of way before letting her off the hook and saying "I take it that's the title of the book..."
My Take On Political Debates
In other words, everything you've already heard before. Like on the night of the first debate. Repeated once more during the VP cross exam. And now, one more time in a new format with the same questions and yes, even the same answers.
And all I have to say is one thing and one thing only...
Somebody wake me in November so I can cast my vote.
And all I have to say is one thing and one thing only...
Somebody wake me in November so I can cast my vote.
What I Meant To Say Was...
I'm self editing tonight. Writing a few lines, backing them up and erasing them rather than letting them hit the page with whatever force they're meant to carry. It's always much easier to think of things I want to say when I'm nowhere near a keyboard.
I do some of my best thinking while behind the wheel. And of course, the best thoughts are the thoughts you can't write down. And if you can't write it down, chances are by the time you find yourself with a pen in hand and a pad of paper in front of you, you can't remember whatever it was you wanted to say to begin with.
I keep meaning to drive with a tape recorder. Then again I hate the sound of my own voice so I imagine I might spend the entire time critiquing myself for sounding like a chipmunk rather than concentrating on recapturing my thoughts while I listen to me being me in mid-thought.
Still I wish I could remember whatever it was I was thinking about this morning while the windshield wipers washed away the rain, and the music on the radio was just the right song to get me in the right mood to say something so profound that I almost forgot I was driving.
Maybe I'm just upset because I went into Barnes and Nobles yesterday and walked out without a single book. In all my life, I've never gone in and come out empty... And I'm still trying to understand how it's even possible that there wasn't a single thing that tempted me enough to buy it and bring it home.
Could it be I'm losing my ability to find the right book at the right time, the one I'm supposed to read just when I need to read it most? Has my right touch gone wrong? Have bookstores denounced me as a traitor for my defection to the local library where books are free to read, enjoy and return within a limited amount of time?
I do some of my best thinking while behind the wheel. And of course, the best thoughts are the thoughts you can't write down. And if you can't write it down, chances are by the time you find yourself with a pen in hand and a pad of paper in front of you, you can't remember whatever it was you wanted to say to begin with.
I keep meaning to drive with a tape recorder. Then again I hate the sound of my own voice so I imagine I might spend the entire time critiquing myself for sounding like a chipmunk rather than concentrating on recapturing my thoughts while I listen to me being me in mid-thought.
Still I wish I could remember whatever it was I was thinking about this morning while the windshield wipers washed away the rain, and the music on the radio was just the right song to get me in the right mood to say something so profound that I almost forgot I was driving.
Maybe I'm just upset because I went into Barnes and Nobles yesterday and walked out without a single book. In all my life, I've never gone in and come out empty... And I'm still trying to understand how it's even possible that there wasn't a single thing that tempted me enough to buy it and bring it home.
Could it be I'm losing my ability to find the right book at the right time, the one I'm supposed to read just when I need to read it most? Has my right touch gone wrong? Have bookstores denounced me as a traitor for my defection to the local library where books are free to read, enjoy and return within a limited amount of time?
Maybe I just need to go back this weekend and try again. Me, the bookstore, my gift card, and a few quality hours to browse, sounds like a pretty good plan.
Went for a walk yesterday morning, just Lu and me and decided to take some pictures along my way. Nothing too earth shattering as I was using KC's digital rather than my own Nikon SLR. But what her camera lacks in quality, it more than makes up for it in its ease to carry.
And of course, when you've nothing to write about it helps to post lots and lots of pictures to just take up space.
A Saturday Sigh
The day begins early and to the do list grows without ever having written a word. What I need to do right now, is grab a shower, get dressed and get both KC and myself out the door and on our way to this mornings cross country meet... After that, once KC moves on to her Dad's for the remainder of the weekend, what I want most is downtime.
Time to maybe go over to Barnes and Nobles and spend a few glorious hours by myself in the stacks with a gift card tucked in my back left pocket just waiting to be spent. Or just time to leash up Lucy for a walk and enjoy the beginning of fall foliage on the trees. Or just time to do whatever, whenever simply because I want to.
Time to maybe go over to Barnes and Nobles and spend a few glorious hours by myself in the stacks with a gift card tucked in my back left pocket just waiting to be spent. Or just time to leash up Lucy for a walk and enjoy the beginning of fall foliage on the trees. Or just time to do whatever, whenever simply because I want to.
Why I Need To Get Out More
Have you ever noticed just how distracting man nipples can be? They can leave you speechless just when you need words the most. Words to say, "No. I don't have a laundry stick pen," when someone stands in front of you, pulling their polo shirt tight against their skin to demonstrate the location of their not even noticeable stain when all your eyes can focus on is one lonely man nipple, obviously cold and eager to say hello.
Doggie Dearest
Made possible by me... The one who emailed the link to the sister who has been trying to convince her husband to agree to bringing home a new friend for Dieter, sausage dog extraordinaire.
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If only more endings happened just as happily...
Welcome to the family Hugo...
From,
Isabella (Izzy), Arabella (Ella), Luciana (Lucy) and of course, your new brother Dieter.
** Hugo was one of the puppies rescued from an out of control puppy breeder.
Without good shelters and the good people who run them, far too many animals would be left without any options for a better life. My local shelter accepts donations of all kinds. Money, food, cleaning supplies and time...
If you don't know what your local shelter needs, give them a call.
You just might find a worthy cause, and a new friend as well.
Take Me Out To the Ballgame
Off to a Yankees game shortly, so no time to take the time to say much of anything at all...
And sometimes you just have to admit that this is the way some things in life work out. Or don't work out. Or sort of kind of work out, but not really work out at all, if you were keeping track of what does and doesn't that is.
If Derek Jeter takes one look at me and falls in love at first site however, don't expect me back anytime soon. That man has enough money to make the term extended honey moon a reality.
And sometimes you just have to admit that this is the way some things in life work out. Or don't work out. Or sort of kind of work out, but not really work out at all, if you were keeping track of what does and doesn't that is.
If Derek Jeter takes one look at me and falls in love at first site however, don't expect me back anytime soon. That man has enough money to make the term extended honey moon a reality.
A Matter of Friendship
We ate grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with tall glasses of milk. Messy but delightfully warm and delicious, and than it would be back outside, sometimes to swim, sometimes to play in the snow depending upon the season we were in.
She was my best friend before we grew apart, before my best friend became someone else, the person who knew me best until she stopped really knowing me at all. And yet, I can still remember so many minute details. Her Dad's ham radio, the way her Mother styled her silver gray hair, the exact layout of her house.
Small things like eating breakfast in the morning, her cereal never adulterated with milk. Or flying down the hill on our bikes like blurs, careless until we fell, skinning our knees and elbows and whatever else the gravel managed to grab.
We had our good moments, and our bad.
I remember a snowball fight ending once very badly, though I can't remember which of us were really to blame for it beginning. I do know however that it was I who dumped a significantly large shovelful of snow upon her head.
Shocked, cold and crying she ran into the house while I trudged slowly behind her, secretly sorry but feeling justified all the same. Either way it was a turning point, the first real wedge in what had been a solid friendship.
We were changing.
Getting older, seeing opportunity in new people, and beginning new friendships. A new grade, a new school, a transition from child to young adult, it seemed the right thing to do to let some things go, to forget to be friends as unintentional as it all seemed to be.
As an adult, I find I don't make friends as easily as I used to. Much more reserved than I ever was, and less willing to go out on a ledge and suggest the idea of going out to lunch, or sitting down to a cup of coffee, it doesn't seem as simple as throwing out the idea of being friends to make friends.
There are excuses as well... Being a parent, having a job, maintaining a household, or having a significant other, there are far too many reasons why there are simply not enough hours in a day to have more than one or two close personal friends.
But I am blessed with two such people, that regardless of the number I choose to call friend, quality in my case certainly exceeds quantity. To both Brenda and Sue, I say thank you. Your friendships are among the most treasured of my possessions...
Still I am reminded of a song we used to sing in Brownies, never mind that I never made it to full fledged Girl Scout.
Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, and the other gold.
You don't need me to tell you how true of a statement this really is. You remember friends you've lost through nothing more than neglect as well as I do. Our only difference, is that I'm the one talking about it now.
I talk with reason however. A random copy on an email that results in a new old friendship taking blossom. And I find that regardless of how long a friendship has laid dormant, it takes only a few simple words to wake it from slumber. And I think to myself how wonderful this is, to be given a new opportunity once more, to meet again later in life and learn what has changed, and what has not.
I don't know if friendships are the same for men. But I do know that as women we need the relationships we forge between true sisters, and the sisters we create from our hearts. No one can make you feel better than a friend who knows you. Who is there to laugh and take joy from every good and wonderful thing to come your way and who stands strong and firm when gale force winds threaten to take you apart.
In whatever way we choose to be friends, be it through daily phone calls, once in a while emails, or the pages I leave her on this blog for you to read, I hope that if you take anything away from me at all, it's the warmth of unconditional friendship in the true spirit of which it's given.
She was my best friend before we grew apart, before my best friend became someone else, the person who knew me best until she stopped really knowing me at all. And yet, I can still remember so many minute details. Her Dad's ham radio, the way her Mother styled her silver gray hair, the exact layout of her house.
Small things like eating breakfast in the morning, her cereal never adulterated with milk. Or flying down the hill on our bikes like blurs, careless until we fell, skinning our knees and elbows and whatever else the gravel managed to grab.
We had our good moments, and our bad.
I remember a snowball fight ending once very badly, though I can't remember which of us were really to blame for it beginning. I do know however that it was I who dumped a significantly large shovelful of snow upon her head. Shocked, cold and crying she ran into the house while I trudged slowly behind her, secretly sorry but feeling justified all the same. Either way it was a turning point, the first real wedge in what had been a solid friendship.
We were changing.
Getting older, seeing opportunity in new people, and beginning new friendships. A new grade, a new school, a transition from child to young adult, it seemed the right thing to do to let some things go, to forget to be friends as unintentional as it all seemed to be.
As an adult, I find I don't make friends as easily as I used to. Much more reserved than I ever was, and less willing to go out on a ledge and suggest the idea of going out to lunch, or sitting down to a cup of coffee, it doesn't seem as simple as throwing out the idea of being friends to make friends.
There are excuses as well... Being a parent, having a job, maintaining a household, or having a significant other, there are far too many reasons why there are simply not enough hours in a day to have more than one or two close personal friends.
But I am blessed with two such people, that regardless of the number I choose to call friend, quality in my case certainly exceeds quantity. To both Brenda and Sue, I say thank you. Your friendships are among the most treasured of my possessions...Still I am reminded of a song we used to sing in Brownies, never mind that I never made it to full fledged Girl Scout.
Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver, and the other gold.
You don't need me to tell you how true of a statement this really is. You remember friends you've lost through nothing more than neglect as well as I do. Our only difference, is that I'm the one talking about it now.
I talk with reason however. A random copy on an email that results in a new old friendship taking blossom. And I find that regardless of how long a friendship has laid dormant, it takes only a few simple words to wake it from slumber. And I think to myself how wonderful this is, to be given a new opportunity once more, to meet again later in life and learn what has changed, and what has not.
I don't know if friendships are the same for men. But I do know that as women we need the relationships we forge between true sisters, and the sisters we create from our hearts. No one can make you feel better than a friend who knows you. Who is there to laugh and take joy from every good and wonderful thing to come your way and who stands strong and firm when gale force winds threaten to take you apart.
In whatever way we choose to be friends, be it through daily phone calls, once in a while emails, or the pages I leave her on this blog for you to read, I hope that if you take anything away from me at all, it's the warmth of unconditional friendship in the true spirit of which it's given.
Getting Rid of the Green Catchphrase
Have you ever noticed that the government has gone big on promoting all things GREEN but still refuses to admit that global warning exists?
Or that businesses that claim they're greener than a retirees well manicured front lawn still fail to implement a recycling plan right within their own facilities?
And can you even imagine that there are people out there right now who are absolutely against utilizing the classroom as a place to teach our children about the importance of conservation, thinking instead it's just an open opportunity excuse for liberal brainwashing?
To those people and really to anyone who thinks we're doing enough doing the very little we do, a wake up call! We have a responsibility to this planet, to leave it, if not the way we found it, than at least no more worse for wear. The world is not a replenishable resource. If we ruin it beyond recognition, there is no easy fix to put our mistakes right. Even now, we are fighting an uphill battle to combat against everything the human race collectively has already done.
But do we do enough?
Sadly the answer is no... And because we don't look at this beyond our own front door, or beyond our own lifespan, too many of us toss our concerns (if we have any)into the dumpster like one more bag of garbage to be gotten rid of.
Every individual needs to care. Every individual needs to be responsible for what they put in and what they take out.It takes a lot more to live green than it is to say you are green.
Isn't it time to admit we have a problem?
Someone Could Have Told Me
When trying to renew your vehicle registration, it's good to keep one thing in mind. The month it expires doesn't necessarily mean you have to go into panic mode if it's good through 2009.
Evidently it's still 2008 and as usual, I'm the last one to know.
Evidently it's still 2008 and as usual, I'm the last one to know.
If It Doesn't Make Sense, I Understand It Perfectly
I need a to don't list.
Let's face it. The to do list is old news. Been there. Done that. Or tried to do some of it before giving up halfway through.
It just seems to me that a to do list only knows how to do one thing, starting with one little got to be done and ending up with a whole batch of still got to do, which adds up to only one thing... Stress!
So I'm switching it up, turning things around, and trying something new on for size just to see how it might feel to be high up on the probability chart for completing a task by doing nothing much at all.
Doubt not my genius good people! I am like a pioneer left stranded on the Oregon Trail faced with the horror of making a decision between (A), (B), (C), or (Depending Doom). Will I trade the bullets needed to shoot big game to buy a two ounce vial of Chicken Pox vaccine to save poor Tommy's life, or will I hook up with another wagon train, and barter my old washing tub in return for a ride on a half dead donkey?
Or will I completely get off topic and wind up talking about something so out of the blue that I'll have no idea of how to get back to what I was originally saying?
Some things, like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know...
Let's face it. The to do list is old news. Been there. Done that. Or tried to do some of it before giving up halfway through.
It just seems to me that a to do list only knows how to do one thing, starting with one little got to be done and ending up with a whole batch of still got to do, which adds up to only one thing... Stress!
So I'm switching it up, turning things around, and trying something new on for size just to see how it might feel to be high up on the probability chart for completing a task by doing nothing much at all.
Doubt not my genius good people! I am like a pioneer left stranded on the Oregon Trail faced with the horror of making a decision between (A), (B), (C), or (Depending Doom). Will I trade the bullets needed to shoot big game to buy a two ounce vial of Chicken Pox vaccine to save poor Tommy's life, or will I hook up with another wagon train, and barter my old washing tub in return for a ride on a half dead donkey?
Or will I completely get off topic and wind up talking about something so out of the blue that I'll have no idea of how to get back to what I was originally saying?
Some things, like how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop, the world may never know...
To Do List Be Damned
There are about a hundred things on my to do list tonight and only about a one in one hundred chance that something on that list might actually get done...
I have however had dinner. A truly gourmet meal of Kashi whole grain, honey imbibed something that looked like cereal - but didn't taste nearly as good as a bowl of chocolate peanut butter pops - dowsed with just the right amount of skim milk to make it look perfectly enticing.
If we must be honest with each other, and I feel we must, enticing is was not. It was however quick, easy, to the point, and absolutely no fuss on a night when I was running late from work, had nothing much else in the house to make, and no intention of cleaning up until tomorrow.
In other words, it worked for me.
I have however had dinner. A truly gourmet meal of Kashi whole grain, honey imbibed something that looked like cereal - but didn't taste nearly as good as a bowl of chocolate peanut butter pops - dowsed with just the right amount of skim milk to make it look perfectly enticing.
If we must be honest with each other, and I feel we must, enticing is was not. It was however quick, easy, to the point, and absolutely no fuss on a night when I was running late from work, had nothing much else in the house to make, and no intention of cleaning up until tomorrow.
In other words, it worked for me.
KC on the other hand had a microwave mac and cheese meal courtesy of Stouffer's. I might have had some too, but I made the mistake of looking at the calorie count including the calorie count from fats and decided as my breath expelled itself out in a sigh, that it was most definitely off my list of the can eat eats.
Still even KC knows better than to think that this kind of meal is the norm in our house. We are more a brown rice and chicken prepared in a thousand different ways family. A family who avoids fast food at all cost, and rarely buys prepacked prepared meals except for infrequent occasions when it's just too convenient to pass up.
My daughter however isn't happy over our healthier lifestyle. She thinks I'm denying her her right to double cheeseburgers at McDonald's, and she had a perfectly good snit the other night when I absolutely refused to stop at the drive-thru to fulfill her need for a chocolate milkshake. Twenty unbearable minutes of listening to her whine, complain, and moan incessantly over my not stopping, she finally went mute and gave it up.
In other news, and yes, I do have other news. I finally found my missing library book on Saturday beneath my dresser in my room, though I swear I had looked there about a thousand time before to no avail. Excited as I was to have it in my hands, I must admit I was a little nervous about the overdue fee. After all there are only so many times you can renew something you can't find before the library catches on. Lucky for me, the fine was reasonable. Seven dollars, paid in full, was well worth being able to check out more books. Two of which I've already read and returned and one that as of this morning, I am now halfway through. I just can't seem to help myself...
Books are like a constant northern star, always a new name, and a new place, but a welcome respite all the same.
Actually I think I finally did manage to make a dent in my own prolific scratchings. Like a mute swan in a frozen lake, my ideas have been trapped in ice. And nothing, no matter what I did, could chip those ice blocks away. That is, until I read something quite by accident. And then the thaw began, and a name popped into my mind and I could see her as if she had been patiently waiting just to exist the moment I was able to call her into being.
Her story began tumbling out of me, breathing its own air, waking me from my sleep to sit in front of my computer late at night and listen to everything she had to say. And she is very wordy, wanting to talk no matter what the time, no matter what it is I should be doing. And so I wake up to the randomness of her mutterings and do my best to write them down as fast as I am able before they slip away like fading headlights into the fog.
Still even KC knows better than to think that this kind of meal is the norm in our house. We are more a brown rice and chicken prepared in a thousand different ways family. A family who avoids fast food at all cost, and rarely buys prepacked prepared meals except for infrequent occasions when it's just too convenient to pass up.
My daughter however isn't happy over our healthier lifestyle. She thinks I'm denying her her right to double cheeseburgers at McDonald's, and she had a perfectly good snit the other night when I absolutely refused to stop at the drive-thru to fulfill her need for a chocolate milkshake. Twenty unbearable minutes of listening to her whine, complain, and moan incessantly over my not stopping, she finally went mute and gave it up.
In other news, and yes, I do have other news. I finally found my missing library book on Saturday beneath my dresser in my room, though I swear I had looked there about a thousand time before to no avail. Excited as I was to have it in my hands, I must admit I was a little nervous about the overdue fee. After all there are only so many times you can renew something you can't find before the library catches on. Lucky for me, the fine was reasonable. Seven dollars, paid in full, was well worth being able to check out more books. Two of which I've already read and returned and one that as of this morning, I am now halfway through. I just can't seem to help myself...Books are like a constant northern star, always a new name, and a new place, but a welcome respite all the same.
Actually I think I finally did manage to make a dent in my own prolific scratchings. Like a mute swan in a frozen lake, my ideas have been trapped in ice. And nothing, no matter what I did, could chip those ice blocks away. That is, until I read something quite by accident. And then the thaw began, and a name popped into my mind and I could see her as if she had been patiently waiting just to exist the moment I was able to call her into being.
Her story began tumbling out of me, breathing its own air, waking me from my sleep to sit in front of my computer late at night and listen to everything she had to say. And she is very wordy, wanting to talk no matter what the time, no matter what it is I should be doing. And so I wake up to the randomness of her mutterings and do my best to write them down as fast as I am able before they slip away like fading headlights into the fog.
Who's Your Daddy?
Dear Noisy Neighbors Downstairs,
It would be ever so nice of you to not leave your television set on at top volume from the moment my head hits the pillow at night, to the minute my alarm goes off in the morning. You see, and I don't think is going to come as any out of the blue surprise, people who have jobs need plenty of peaceful and relaxing sleep in order to be able to function properly throughout their workday.
I'm sure that if you had a job, you would probably be better able to see the bigger picture as to why I can't stand you without ever having met you face to face...
As for your sex life which you so kindly decided to share with everyone within a one mile hearing distance the other night, let me just point out that I honestly do hope he's really not your Daddy, and that you have some hair left in your head despite your pleas for him to pull it harder...
Had I not heard it for myself, I might have gone on to believe that white trash sex talk didn't exist... Thank you for providing me with such an extensive repertoire to add to my vocabulary. I can now rest easy in my new found knowledge that should the situation ever call for it, I'll know exactly what to say and when!
Here's hoping you'll find a new place to move that's much more suitable to your personality really soon...
Your Neighbor and Nemesis Upstairs
PS... Garbage goes in the bin, not outside it. Try lifting the lid, it always seems to work really well for me.
It would be ever so nice of you to not leave your television set on at top volume from the moment my head hits the pillow at night, to the minute my alarm goes off in the morning. You see, and I don't think is going to come as any out of the blue surprise, people who have jobs need plenty of peaceful and relaxing sleep in order to be able to function properly throughout their workday.
I'm sure that if you had a job, you would probably be better able to see the bigger picture as to why I can't stand you without ever having met you face to face...
As for your sex life which you so kindly decided to share with everyone within a one mile hearing distance the other night, let me just point out that I honestly do hope he's really not your Daddy, and that you have some hair left in your head despite your pleas for him to pull it harder...Had I not heard it for myself, I might have gone on to believe that white trash sex talk didn't exist... Thank you for providing me with such an extensive repertoire to add to my vocabulary. I can now rest easy in my new found knowledge that should the situation ever call for it, I'll know exactly what to say and when!
Here's hoping you'll find a new place to move that's much more suitable to your personality really soon...
Your Neighbor and Nemesis Upstairs
PS... Garbage goes in the bin, not outside it. Try lifting the lid, it always seems to work really well for me.
The Bitch Blog
Feeling much more myself tonight and not like I'm about to knock, knock on heaven's door, it's a good time to open up with a little bit more bitch and a lot less bite my tongue until it bleeds.
I am annoyed...
Though admittedly I've been annoyed almost my entire life towards one thing or another and cannot say at this time that this is something new...
This time however I'm really above my limit of tolerance annoyed.
Annoyed at people who act more like a spoiled three year old child set loose in a workplace with behavior that is quite unacceptable in the parameters of nine to five office life.
My philosophy is do your job, work with whom you must work with, and leave your personal differences at the door. Notice I didn't mention like or respect. That kind of thing isn't necessary when relying on professionalism.
So if someone chooses not to talk to me, I'm all for their choice and more than happy that they made one.
I do not however enjoy playing patty cakes with a third co-worker whose only purpose in the mix is to relay messages back and forth as if they're the cheap ass string in a two tin can conversation.
(The Scenario)
Ten minutes into my day, co-worker "A" utilized co-worker "B" for what I have now decided is the absolute, not going to play this game anymore, last time.
What is was exactly that set me off my ice block this morning, I'm not sure I know. All I know is that it was just enough to push me out of my chair and across the hall to say what I've been wanting to say for over six months.
It went a little something like this...
"If you have a question you need to ask me, or some documentation you need to get to me or from me, I'd appreciate it if you would ask me direct rather than sending in co-worker "B" to get it for you."
Co-worker "A" froze, looking at me as if she were a shocked deer in the headlights, visibly stumbling over what to say in response. (It could of course be contributed to the fact than when I'm angry, and I was seething, I can be quite formidable, in a very intimidating way when one does not take into account my five foot stature.)
She didn't have much to say however, other than an excuse which I quickly blew to smithereens with one little huff and a short little puff.
"Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been bypassing me for months. Whatever grudge you've got, you feel free to keep right on carrying it, but for the sake of getting the job done, get over it when it comes to our working relationship, so we can all stop playing footsie."
I didn't wait for a reply. And to be honest, I didn't find it necessary. Had my buttons not been pushed to the point of must explode or else, I would have let it slide another day, another week, another month, only for the sake of not giving her the satisfaction of letting her know that I was ever affected by any of it at all.
There are two truths I know when it comes down to holding a grudge.
One, it's a well known fact that the person holding it expands much more energy to do so than the one the grudge is being held against.
And two, if you're the rock in my pocket, believe you me, I've already let you go.
I am annoyed...
Though admittedly I've been annoyed almost my entire life towards one thing or another and cannot say at this time that this is something new...
This time however I'm really above my limit of tolerance annoyed.
Annoyed at people who act more like a spoiled three year old child set loose in a workplace with behavior that is quite unacceptable in the parameters of nine to five office life.
My philosophy is do your job, work with whom you must work with, and leave your personal differences at the door. Notice I didn't mention like or respect. That kind of thing isn't necessary when relying on professionalism.
So if someone chooses not to talk to me, I'm all for their choice and more than happy that they made one. I do not however enjoy playing patty cakes with a third co-worker whose only purpose in the mix is to relay messages back and forth as if they're the cheap ass string in a two tin can conversation.
(The Scenario)Ten minutes into my day, co-worker "A" utilized co-worker "B" for what I have now decided is the absolute, not going to play this game anymore, last time.
What is was exactly that set me off my ice block this morning, I'm not sure I know. All I know is that it was just enough to push me out of my chair and across the hall to say what I've been wanting to say for over six months.
It went a little something like this...
"If you have a question you need to ask me, or some documentation you need to get to me or from me, I'd appreciate it if you would ask me direct rather than sending in co-worker "B" to get it for you."
Co-worker "A" froze, looking at me as if she were a shocked deer in the headlights, visibly stumbling over what to say in response. (It could of course be contributed to the fact than when I'm angry, and I was seething, I can be quite formidable, in a very intimidating way when one does not take into account my five foot stature.)
She didn't have much to say however, other than an excuse which I quickly blew to smithereens with one little huff and a short little puff.
"Don't think I haven't noticed that you've been bypassing me for months. Whatever grudge you've got, you feel free to keep right on carrying it, but for the sake of getting the job done, get over it when it comes to our working relationship, so we can all stop playing footsie."
I didn't wait for a reply. And to be honest, I didn't find it necessary. Had my buttons not been pushed to the point of must explode or else, I would have let it slide another day, another week, another month, only for the sake of not giving her the satisfaction of letting her know that I was ever affected by any of it at all.
There are two truths I know when it comes down to holding a grudge.
One, it's a well known fact that the person holding it expands much more energy to do so than the one the grudge is being held against.
And two, if you're the rock in my pocket, believe you me, I've already let you go.
