How old are we again?

I'm not entirely certain how to properly relay the following story, so you will have to pardon me if it does not flow.

Last night, we had our first bout of the 2009 season. Weeks of planning, working lunches, meetings and errands culminated in one evening of roller derby madness. I even got sent to the penalty chair, 'Ole Dirty, for beating up my wife. I think it needs a good sanding, I had splinters in my butt. 

A few of the skaters from the other team in town showed up to watch. This is not unusual as we have been trying to foster a better relationship with them. We respect them as skaters and derby sisters and our skaters will occasionally attend their bouts in a show of support. It is an understood fact among those of us who have been skating with the Reno Roller Girls for any amount of time that they have a different philosophy on skating and therefor the oft suggested merger would not work out well. We don't want to be them, they don't want to be us. 

This time was a little different though. We have caught on tape, in the past, the sound of them bashing our style and skill. Last night, they actually approached one of our skaters and suggested that they come in and coach us. She was flattered and brought it to my attention, a bit on the excited side that they would want to help us. 

The sad thing is, they weren't looking to help. The offer was a condescending attempt at insult. I am not a member of the coaching staff and do not get involved with coaching matters, so I told her that she was welcome to bring the offer to the table at a league meeting. I knew it wouldn't go over well, but didn't think that the middle of the bout was a good time to bring up past injury and hurt, especially when we have been working so hard at mending the tears that occurred before and during my tenure with RRG. 

Fast forward to the after party, and the two skaters from the other team showed up and cornered one of our skaters in the bathroom. They insulted her, telling her she wasn't good enough to skate banked track, that she should stick with flat, that she was a crappy skater. That they have been trying to recruit her and blah blah blah...(I'm guessng that the blah blah blah was somethingt o the effect of she would get better with them, but it was a noisy bar and I have sucked down my SoCo and Seven like it was mana from heaven) My girl is one who has been working very hard in the year that I have known her to control her temper and I am very proud of her that she didn't try to fight them. She told them that her heart is with RRG and that she has no desire to switch teams. 

So they went and cornered another girl. And another. Threw drinks. Got punched. And kicked out of the bar. This was the point at which I returned, having left with Wifey to get some Jack in the Box since it was right next door and I hadn't eaten much that day. I saw them getting into their truck and overheard them saying something about how we were staged or something. We learned about the drama after we got back in the bar. 

Amazingly enough, they returned later and started more crap. And the glorious Mz V took them both on. I pulled her off and took her back into the bar; she has a kid at home and doesn't need to go to jail or deal with an assault charge. She was pretty fired up. The two skaters? I only got a good look at one of them. Of the two, one had a familiar name, but I don't know who is who. She is notorious though for having a little too much say in who gets to skate with her team. Rumor has it she will push you out if you are a better skater than she, although, she is, apparently pretty damn good. She is known for just this sort of drama.

What I don't get is why. Why would you come to someone's party and talk shit? Why would you come back knowing you are outnumbered? What is the point of insulting a group of people who really don't have any interest in you at all? I know some people just need drama. But this was just silly. I told Wifey she needs to call the president of their team and talk to her. Because, this is not what derby is supposed to be about. Friendly rivalry? Sure. But this was out and out insult. At our bout and after party. They PAID to get in and do this. (they don't get into our bouts for free as would any other team because the rink owner won't allow it. There is bad blood there. In return, we pay to get into their bouts) They deliberately undermined the goodwill that we have been trying to foster over the last 6 months. That sort of behavior can get you kicked out of my league.

I don't get it. I hope I never do. 

EDIT LATER

Wifey was finding out who the president of the the other league is so that she can discuss with her the behavior of those skaters, and  it turned out, that WAS the president. Wow. Not what I would want in a leader.

I grew some

Finally.

That's all.

The NEW WOMAN

I had an experience last night I don't think I have ever had before. 

B and I were heading out to dinner and stopped by the pharmacy to pick up a prescription for him. He walked up to the counter. I was wandering in the vicinity; that's what I do when shopping, I can't help it. I heard the pharmacist ask, "Oh, is this for (insert the ex wife's name here)?"

And I felt strange and awkward. He told her it was for him, but I still felt a little dirty and out of place. 

They knew him there, he's been going for several years, and it's only natural that they would assume he was picking up something for her. It's not likely that he has told him he is divorced. It's very likely he still picks stuff up for her because he's nice like that. 

But it still made me feel a little funny. I walked up and stood close. Human reaction; "He's not her's anymore, he's mine."  I imagine in their eyes though, I was the interloper. They may even think him a cheater. I know it doesn't matter what they think, if they thought anything at all (um, this is a small town. Everyone thinks something, trust me.)

I was glad to get out of there. Bound to happen, I know, I'm sure it won't be the last time. But that doesn't mean I liked it. 

Passive Aggressive Theater

I am currently trying to make sure that in the history of stubborness, mine is legendary. LEGENDARY, I tell you.

Each day, I grow more and more frustrated with my living situation. You know, the one I said I wasn't allowed to bitch about anymore. I can't help it. Especially knowing that her departure date is now sometime between March and April. 

How did two months stretch into nearly four? Hw is it that I have not said anything? 

I have learned that I can be bought. Not only did I put myself in this situation for the love of money (really, it was so I don't have to live paycheck to paycheck because I don't have any cushion, but as long as we are being dramatic...) But I have stayed in it because of that sweet golden carrot. 

One more month? sure, I can suck it up. Except that the assumption is that she can take her time getting out as long as I am paid for my time. And I have not corrected her. 

I need to. NEED TO REALLY BAD. I no longer want to be at my house. The smell of dogs hits my nose as soon as I walk in. It isn't because the place isn't vacuumed all the time, it's because there are TOO MANY animals in this house. Words I never thought I would say now exit my mouth every day. 

Friday night, I got home and the house was empty. For the first time in months, it felt like my house. And I knew I needed, for my own sanity, to tell her it's time to go. The first part of March. I need my space back. 

Have I done so? Nope. Instead, I do little things to try to annoy her. The turtles need more water because the tank is too loud? I'll get to it eventually. Dining table is a little too piled with my paperwork? I will get to that eventually too. Same with the dead flowers on the table. Eventually. 

She asked me to clean up a bit the other day. Eh. It looks fine.

This is not the way to handle things, I know. And I need to be a grown up. But I don't feel like it right now. It's so much easier to just be messy...

Broken

I have been diagnosed with a broken picker.

While that sounds like a fancy way to say that my finger is broke, know that the diagnosis didn’t come from a doctor, but from my supervisor who, after 8 months of hearing stories about them men that I do and have dated, decided that I just don’t know how to pick good ones. My picker is broken.

Following hot on the tails to this announcement, Tony, a coworker who has been nicknamed “The Angry Mustache” by another coworker, announced that he could tell me where to go pick up good men. According to his daughters, construction sites, apparently, NOT bookstores are the best places to find good guys. After all, only geeks hang out in bookstores.

Never mind that I have a boyfriend and although he has his issues, he treats me well and we enjoy each other’s company. I have my issues too. But should it so happen that it doesn’t work out between us, I’ll be sure to head to my nearest construction site to strut myself and maybe catch myself a good man who doesn’t spend time in bookstores.

Worth every ache

The other night, B came over for a visit. We decided to hop in my car and see where the night took us. (we rarely spend time at home since the only quiet places are the bedroom and the office. Well, and the bathroom but who wants to hang out in there?) We stopped for dinner and then got on the freeway.

B mentioned casually that he really wanted to go to the batting cages sometime but that he didn’t know where they were.

It just so happened, that I got lost one day and found them. So I showed him where they are. (It’s a really cool spot, cages, food, beer…) And we decided to hit a few. Or, I should say, he hit many, and I swung a lot. Mostly, though, I just watched.

I don’t think I have ever seen him ooze that much joy. His face? Was lit up. He looked 10 years younger in that batting helmet. (Not that he looks old by any means) It had just been too long since he indulged in a good batting session.

We’ll be going there again. I would gladly learn to actually hit the balls, and I want to encourage him to do the things he loves. I’ve been trying to get him back on his skateboard but he says he’s too old. I say, at 34, there’s no such thing. That’s what pads are for. I’m even willing to go to the skate park with him. I can skate there too. And yes, B, I will wear bootie shorts and fishnets. It’s good practice for me to get off the rink and play on the ramps. It’s something we can do together. And it’s good for his soul to do the things he loves.

I think it’ll stop making him feel so old…

That's what it's there for

Several months ago, I noticed a need among my Derby League. There were a couple of girls who would occasionally fall upon hard times and need a little assistance. Single moms. Young people. Generally broke ass bitches. Sometimes, you just need a little help.

So I started a food closet for Derby Girls with the open invitation that any girl needing a little food, TP, soap, whatever, could pull a little out and not have to worry about food while she worried about other things.

Although they don’t know it (contacting the other leagues in town can be tricky) the closet is open to any Derby Girl who needs food. It’s stocked on donations from the other girls in the league and sometimes, from outside sources as well.

I am amazed every time I open those cabinets, how quickly they filled up. It isn’t just me putting the occasional box of Mac and Cheese in there.

So all the girls have to do, really, is let me know they need something, and they can come over and get stuff. No one else really has to know. I received a message yesterday asking for a bag from the closet for a newer girl. Single mom, she’s been with us for less than a month.

I was happy to bring her a bag full of stuff, with extra minding for what her son might like to eat.

It’s not what she was expecting when she was told I had some “paperwork” for her after practice last night.

The tears in her eyes told me that she never expected such a gift from a woman who could barely remember her name. (I’m bad, I know. It takes me awhile)

At that moment I knew I had done the right thing in gathering the food. It doesn’t take up any cabinets I would be using; those ones are at ceiling height. It didn’t hurt me to take 5 minutes to put a bag together.

Such a little bit of effort for such a big smile of a reward. I’m glad to have helped. That’s what it’s there for.

Proof of insanity

I have come to the conclusion that the Cookie Thief is actually insane.

Forget the part of the story where he was foolish enough to try to steal my cookie. (He”s loving the fact that I’m off the junk food since that means he gets my share)

This morning the announcement was that Obama is going to shut down GITMO. That he is going to let all those guys free. The worst of the worst, apparently, are housed there.

I reminded him that they can’t let them free unless they have somewhere to go. That they cannot come here and they aren’t welcome in any other country. Until they have somewhere to go, they cannot go free. That, apparently, is not the point.

Then he came in talking about it again. But this time, I am more prepared.

"It’s a 120 day pause in proceedings while the systems set in place by GWB are looked at. Yes, all the men pleaded guilty. The judge overseeing the proceedings gave his okay", Says I.

We had the following conversation:

CT: The judge is a Hippy!
ME: Well then you’re on crack!
CT: I’m not on Crack!
ME: Then maybe the judge isn’t a hippy.
CT: I’m always right
ME: I would tend to disagree with that
CT: You can’t disagree, it’s a fact!
ME: I can do whatever I want.

Based on the fact that he thinks he’s always right about everything, even though I have seen him wrong, I have declared him insane. Please send a strait jacket. Two, actually, since I think it would be cool to have one. Then again, I might need it if he doesn't shut up about it.

Bradendamus:

"There will continue to be infinitely more idiots in the world than ways for them to die."

Tales of a Cookie Thief

I'm not sure if I have mentioned the Cookie Thief, my most recent coworker addition (I think in November or December, but, whatever) and the only man (or woman) in my building who was foolish enough to ask if I was gonna eat my cookie. My bosses? figured out within a week that cookies are the way to my heart.

The Cookie Thief is an odd duck. Sometimes we have very interesting conversations about very intelligent things, and sometimes, he drives me crazy.

Today he drove me crazy. Now, I don't talk politics very often and that's mostly because I have learned not to. There are just some people in this world who have their opinion and there isn't another. CT's opinion today was that it is Barak Obama's fault that the stock market took a down turn today. Never mind that it's been up and down like crazy lately. I announced that if tanks when I fart. While he tried to back up his reasoning about various wonders of GWB, with what he referred to as fact, I pointed out that technically I don't have to believe in anything unless I see it for myself, something I consider frequently when offering opinions about things. If I didn't see it and experience it, it might not be true.

Mostly, I was being obnoxious. Partially I was trying to prove a point. Just because he says it's so, doesn't mean it is. (by the way, I have decided that the moon may be made of cream cheese because it's white. I don't know that it isn't because I have not tasted the moon. No, I would NOT like to taste YOUR moon cheese. eeew)

After coming and going from my office all day spouting the same doomsday crap about how Obama is going to run us into the ground, I finally announced that I didn't want any more politics in my office. That they were stressing me out. I didn't mention the part where they were keeping me from working. So he and another coworker with whom I don't always agree, turned to the theory that the world will end.

The name Nostradamus came up.

I have a particular dislike of the predictions of Nostradamus.

You see, he predicted an earthquake. (according to my step dad. I've never read his predictions and therefore cannot say whether he did.) That earthquake was supposed to be "the big one" (heh. I said big one...) and California was supposed to fall into the sea. It was May 1993.

I was 15 and had been on backstage crew for my high school musical. The one W was lead in. The one where he once kissed me backstage in between scenes. Just a little kiss, but EVERYTHING to a 15 year old with a crush. I thought I would fly away.

I only got to crew one night though. My parents made me go out to the desert property to wait for the earthquake. Out to the middle of the desert where we would be safe from falling buildings. How I envied Seester who was old enough to announce that she would take her chances in the city. I wanted to stay behind with her. My responsibilities to the play were nothing. My desire to attend the cast party fell on deaf ears.

At the predicted time on the predicted day, I sat on a bench and waited. For an earthquake that never came.

Fuckin Nostradamus.

I told my coworkers the shortened version of this story. They started to argue. I kicked them out of my office. And emailed B.

I would like to introduce Bradendamus. Who will now be my personal Soothsayer. And I shall pass along his predictions to you. Complete with sound effects.


"In 15 days, I predict a dog will eat something out of your trash, and not clean up after himself..."

**sound of thunder**

And:

"And your roommate will leave bits of her clothing you do not want to see around for your consternation."

**boom**

These things have to be recorded somewhere, right? (yes, the sound effects are his...)

Member of the club

It’s official, and now I have to stick to it. I’m really going to miss pancakes and bacon, but I think as long as it’s an occasional treat instead of a weekly stuff fest, I should be okay.

I figured it out today, 2 pounds a week for 9 weeks will put me at goal. I made a pretty little graph. I offered to send it to B, but he didn’t think he was interested in joining in my neurosis. The important thing is that I asked him to support me in my attempts to lose weight by not tempting me with yummy treats. We have a tendency to go to dinner and cap it off with ice cream or a milk shake. I think that any lifestyle change has to be supported by the people around you. Especially the person you’re dating.

So here it is. The Plan.

I’m going back to one treat per week. That’s sweets, alcoholic beverages, soda. I can only have one. Not one of each, so I will pick wisely. And savor it all the more.

I’ll be eating more fruits and veggies. Less in the breads and pastas, although I have not really been eating too many of those. Brown rice instead of white. I already eat lean meats. Haven’t had a bratwurst in months. Mmm. Bratwurst. Veggies cannot mean gorging myself on carrots either. Apparently, they have a lot of sugar in them. I think I have been pretending they are good for me and that I didn’t know that. No wonder they taste so good…

Smaller portions. No more stuffing myself until I can’t move. I do that a lot. I’m taking in way more than I should.

More exercise! I realize that for most people 4 hours of hard skating a week is a lot. But if I am going to be serious about losing, I need to add a bit more. So I’m pulling out the hula hoop. 15 minutes per day, or at least I will try. Hit the Marina more often, even if not on skates, my friend Dimebag Cheryl has started walking there and it would be fun to join her. I can always grab the dogs and run around with them for a little bit each day. They would certainly like it and maybe they will be too tired to get into the trash.

Support Groups

I have joined a support group. Or at least applied for entry. Thanks to Chickie, who showed me the way to shrinking piggies where i will be (Oh Please Pick ME!) chronicling my attempts at weightloss. I'm pretty sure I tried to do that once before on my own but THIS time, I will actually have weekly weigh ins and everything. I dug my scale out of the garage but the battery died and since I don't have any money until Thursday (at least) the battery will have to wait. We have a scale at work though. I will be using that. RIGHT IN FRONT OF EVERYBODY. They all think I'm nuts anyway so, oh well.

But any blog with bacon in it's header is a blog I want to be a part of. So, it looks like I will be posting there too. If they let me in the club.

So, why don't I have any money until Thursday, you ask? after all, I get paid every week, right?

Well...I changed banks. And since my bank was two hours away I took my free Saturday last week and drove there to close the account. Apparently, that's a bad thing if you have direct deposit. Oops. If I had thought of that on Thursday, my wonderful friend of what, 18 years? that works at the old bank could have redirected it for me. But I was too late. It got rejected and now I have to wait for payroll to cut me a manual check.

Kinda screws me extra considering the roommate still hasn't paid rent. But she gave me $20 bucks so I could drink Friday night (my two drinks were bought for me so I still have the twenty. sweet!) and another 20 for helping her scrub down a fridge that had survived the fire. (AND she helped me wash my car! it goes fast when there are two people working on it!) I keep telling myself that everything will be fine and as long as I don't run out and buy that skirt that I saw at Hot Topic (It was on clearance, but I can't be spending on that right now!) And I get my dang insurance paid, I should be fine. Excepting he cable and electricity, of course...

And no Randy I won't be cutting my hair or doing anything to my boobs, so my attributes will be fine. I am thinking of offering skate cleaning for derby girls for a small fee. Except Derby girls are notoriously broke...I like taking the skates apart and getting them all clean and pretty though so as soon as I figure out the logistics, I'm going to try. I think I'll get more of a crowd than offering $15 foot and hand rubs which was my other bright idea this week. Every little bit counts. Right?

Everything will be fine...Everything will be fine...Everything will be fine...Everything will be fine...Everything will be fine...Everything will be fine...

You Can't do that on the Radio

This was actually typed up on Friday but I didn't get to it until today.

I had an 80’s kid moment this morning (I seem to be having those a lot these days what with the Sesame St. reference and all. I think it might be a sign of age)

Someone was keying the mic on their radio which means that I was getting an odd stereo version of a lift rising and falling. Since we rely on our radios for communication, I hit my button during a break.

“Oh…Battery Tech!”

And suddenly I was sent back in time to hours spent in front of the television watching “You Can’t Do That on Television”. To the part where they would pop in and out of lockers telling each other jokes and such, which, I know now, was a rip off of “Laugh In”, but if you’re a kid who grew up in the 80’s, you are way too young to remember “Laugh In” (which, was also one of the inspirations behind the genius that is Sesame St. But I digress)



“You Can’t Do That on Television”. Where kids were smarter than the adults. Where you got green slime dumped on your head for saying “I don’t know”. Where the actors said funny things like “Oot” and “Aboot”. It wasn’t until many years later that I understood that they were Canadian. It’s no wonder I have a deep appreciation for all things Canada. I even own a copy of “Canadian Bacon” (It’s HAM. Sorry, was channeling T. Apparently, some clever marketing executive tricked all us silly Americans by telling us that in Canada, they call ham something different when it’s on pizza. A pig, by any other name, is just as tasty) It wasn’t until a couple of years after that when I discovered the wonder that is Alanis Morisette. Who I still have not managed to remember on the show, but apparently, she was there. She just wasn’t singing, she was hiding in a locker waiting for Ryan Reynolds to come along with his dashing good looks and incredible abdominals. And, er, if you have ever read his blog, he’s pretty funny too.



In other news, if you are going to drink pink lemonade out of your coffee cup, rinse it out before you put more coffee in. This has been a public service announcement.


And one more for your viewing pleasure before I head to bed, I found this on youtube too. It's fantastic for it's 80's dance video madness. I am especially fond of the part where Alanis makes the dancer smell her finger and really? It's kind of worth seeing it through to the end for the titty dance.

Cop Out and Coward

We are halfway through the month and the roommate has not paid her rent. I need to say something. This is rediculous. When she asked if I could wait until her student loan went through, she didn't say it would come through around the 25th.

The dogs get into the trash constantly now. Several times a night. I'm tired of picking it up. THERE IS GARBAGE ON MY FLOOR and I am too tired of cleaning it up to do anything about it. I come home to this every day. Kitchen, bathroom, both. No matter how much I clean, the mess reappears in minutes. I know it's because they are bored and lonely because they do it when I am home too. You would think this would make me want to come out of my rooms but I stay in here where it smells like mint and oranges and there is no prevailing sound of breathing.

It's also wrong that I'm not going to feed them before I go. But I am relied upon for this. And that isn't right either.

Sadly, I am far too passive aggressive to say anything. So I stew in silence and writing.

Look over there! -->

i realize that for some people, a 7 out of 10 isn't so good. in this success driven society, anything less than perfect isn't good enough.

Don't get me wrong. I probably would have cried if I had gotten a 10. And after five minutes of scrolling through all the 8.whatevers, I finally just searched my dang blog. I don't remember what page it was on. I stopped looking at 20-something.

No, the point isn't what my rating is. It's that I got rated. That someone wandered over to my corner of the blogoverse and took a look. And liked it enough to make a note. I don't advertise myself, I rarely tell anyone I have a blog (and yet, they find it...) and yet someone found it. And rated it. And told me they rated it so that I could brag to you all.

I'll call that success...

Perspective

You elect the senator to office you think will do the best job. The one that best represents your issues and beliefs.

When that senator does something good, you don't say anything. You're happy. Things are going your way.

When that senator makes a move without consulting your feelings on a subject you care about, and the outcome isn't what you want, you write a strongly worded letter of displeasure. Stopping just short of calling that elected official to step down. Reason has nothing to do with it, you, are not happy. IT doesn't matter that there was a job to get done, you wanted to be a part of the process.


I feel like the senator right now. It's tempting to step down. All I wanted was to get the job done. Every time I try to get the job done, I get called out for not taking full advantage of the democratic process. Even though time constraints dictate that some decisions need to be made without a vote. Even though fully taking advantage of the process means that you have to move ahead in order to have a finished project to present.

I'm frustrated.

I'm sure I will feel better tomorrow. And I know I'm being vague, but anyone who has been in a position where they were in charge of something, knows this feeling.

It's like I tried to email B today.

"Do what you fell in your heart to be right. You'll be criticized for it anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't"

Thank you, Eleanor.

Survival of the Maji

DO you remember that story, the Gift of the Maji where a woman sells her hair to buy a pocket watch for her husband but he sells his watch chain to buy her combs for her hair?

I have passed the uncomfortable stage in my finances and am now looking for a second job. Perhaps I would not be feeling so uncomfortable if my roommate would pay her rent. Either way, something has to change with me and I am willing to suffer for a bit to be more comfortable. We have all heard this tune before.

So I went to Starbucks. Hiring freeze. Fuck. I'm still going to apply though.

Plan B. See Craigslist.

Where I found this...

Click Here

And I remembered the story. And how crappy I look.

And I thought, oh god, not that.

There's a difference, damnit.

Disclaimer:
Roommate, if you read this, please know I don't intend to harm, only vent. It's the way I handle it and I'm much nicer for it.


That said...

I am beginning to think my roommate doesn't know the difference between roomie and wife. Perhaps I am such good wife that the lines get blurred. I don't know, I have never been married. Except for Wifey. but that's different. She doesn't ask anything of me except my friendship, and that I happily give without complaint. ever. Truly, I am blessed.

SO. Just before Christmas, roomie asked me if I would use my amazing womanly sewing skills to mend her favorite jeans since they are all the pants she has since her other pants burned up in the fire. I spent quite a lot of time mending them, sewing up the air conditioning, even though I thought to myself that since they were wearing at the seams, perhaps they should be retired and new (or used) ones bought. One pair, as per request was patched with a heart and sewn with embroidery thread to make them prettier. The complaints when I was done were few, but they existed.

I'm not sure if I have mentioned the part of the story where she wanted me to cook her beef stew a day or two before I drove to LA for Christmas. Life got so busy right then with last minute preparations, gift making,and visits with B that I was unable to, but I still thought it a little strange.

I was praised highly last week for cleaning house. Really, I just brought it up to the standard I would keep it if I had more time and it weren't overwhelming considering the amount of creatures in the house. It briefly and gloriously smelled like windex and cleanser in here. About 10 minutes later, there were muddy paw prints in the kitchen and about 15 minutes later, it smelled like dog again. But HEY! I can clean any time I want! It looked great in here! (so said she. and B, dang him, backed her up. I don't think he realized how annoyed I was by the conversation)

I have another pair of pants to mend. They have been sitting for a week. Maybe I will get to them tonight...

Last night it was, "Hey! Make us some Pina Coladas!" But I didn't want to. Despite her asking, despite her telling me that they taste better when I make them. Despite her frustration when I scooped myself some ice cream instead. I told her that if she wanted one, he should make it. She tried to convince me that I wanted some too, And once she did make some, she tried to convince me to have a taste. I still refused. I can be, to put it gently, VERY stubborn.

Very.

Very.

Stubborn.

She also asked that if I made breakfast this morning, if I would make some eggs for her. To that I agreed. She noted that I will stuff myself with pancakes but not eat eggs. I don't like eggs. They make me feel sick. They don't bother me in pancakes. Or other cakes. But alone? nasty. But I was willing to scramble her up a couple if I made breakfast this morning. She wasn't up so I make orange-chocolate chip scones. They were tasty. They will still be tasty for breakfast tomorrow. She got up and made coffee for us.

Today? The question was, "What are you making for dinner?"

I explained that I didn't know. That B wanted to hang out tonight and I didn't know if that included dinner.

This is an odd pickle I have landed myself in...

She is far more demanding than any boyfriend (or roommate) I have ever had. D would say, "the house looks good" if I cleaned. C appreciated it quietly (if I remember correctly, I don't remember him mentioning it either way. Which was fine because I LIKED cleaning that house. it was easy). T preferred to be the one cooking...He never really said, but I could tell. That's okay, he never has to eat my cooking again. (He did like my baking and candy.)

pickle.

Journey into my psyche

People wonder sometimes why I smile all the time...

SO, I'm driving around the warehouse today changing out dirty dustmops because that's what I do when I'm not ordering toilet paper. Remember, I am important.

Suddenly, this song pops into my head.



hmm. I'm not sure where it came from but SUDDENLY I decided that it's a terrible song. Suppose you're in Kindergarden and you all start singing about how you have two eyes, one two, and they're both the same size and suddenly you realize that yours AREN'T the same size! Suppose you look kind of like this...



only you know, with hair...

I'm not sure about you but I'm not sure my 5 year old psyche could handle it! And What about Cyclops children? Doesn't this song discriminate against them?



in my mind I heard this little 5 year old cyclops call out to the teacher, "Miss Whateveryernameis! I've only got ONE!!"

(by this time, mind you I was putting the toilet paper away)

And I was suddenly reminded of my grandmother who, some of you know, only had one. Boob. She only had one boob due to mastectomy (she was very candid about how they whacked her boob off) and I thought,

Oh My Goodness!

If you had a criminal who only had one boob, would they be a Uniboober?

Would they run around pressing it against windows and leaving round bulls-eye nipple marks? The police officer would say, "Chief, we've had another uniboobing"

I giggled every time I looked at a window.

I'm not really sure why I am still left alone...

Amazing

It's amazing how quickly insecurity sets in and how much I want to pull into my shell like a turtle and scuttle away. How quickly I start telling myself that I can use extra time to focus on other things like business.

How quickly I feel like a bonehead when everything turns out okay and how fast I remember moments like these when they don't.

I'm worried at how hurt I am by the 12 yr olds admission that she wants her parents back together. I had been wandering around under the false assumption that she would be happy that her dad is happy. I know she is too young to have that level of maturity. But I'm not feeling logical right now.

As usual, a lack of communication makes me apprehensive. Which means I care more than I wanted to admit to myself.

Which means I will be hurt again if he decides to martyr himself for the kids; decide he shouldn't date because it takes his attention from them or because they don't want him to. They know of me as his "friend". I'm okay with that. But they're young, not stupid. And they are his world. Don't get me wrong, it would hurt to walk away too.

He's got a lot going on, a lot to take care of. So the logical part that screams through in times like these? is shaking her head and rolling her eyes. again. Because how many times have I blogged this post? And how many times will I continue to do so?

Go ahead and slap your forehead now

B is dealing with his ex legally; and has told her that unless she makes decisions that are healthy for the kids, he's taking them. It's ugly but I'm proud of him. And wasn't really sure what to say when he told me the 12 year old wants her parents to get back together. Which is NORMAL I know. But it still hurt my feeling a little even though it had nothing to do with me.

The roommate may be on for another month, which is good for my bank account and questionable for my sanity. I have the option of telling her no. But she just saved me all sorts of cash on my phone/internet/cable bill and is looking into saving me more so I am feeling extra friendly. Why, yes, I can be bought with money and compliments! By agreeing, I lose my license to bitch and complain... Which, I can't help but love to bitch and complain but being as that I fell in LOVE with my cousin's WII (even though my MII is fat...) And um...I broke the vacuum. Wore that poor little critter out. It lasted awhile considering it's a $60 walmart vac and I've had it for three years or something; I would recommend it to anyone who doesn't need to vacuum every day. But if I'm gonna have furries, and I too, am furry with all this hair, (on my head, of course) I need a pet vac. And the Dyson has come highly recommended. I found it on sale for $350. Same as the WII at wal mart last night. Ok, the WII wasn't there, but the tag was.

With a Dyson I could get the dog hair off the couch, wouldn't have to buy a slip cover AND I would be able to sit on it again. She's a lot less touchy when she hasn't been drinking.

That would be another month and a half before I can get a pup of mine own. The longer I wait on that the better though.

It's amazing

How yesterday's blog became today's conversation. And how i had the courage to tell him the thinks I was thinking and how I still don't know its going to end up but he's willing to try tough love on her instead of kid gloves. Because her bad decisions? affect us all and it's not fair and dangerous to them. Him, the kids. And she knows better, or so he says, but I am beginning to think she either hasn't got the smarts or the strength to make a change.

Maybe I don't either, based on the fact that I am still trying.

Crossroads?

I could be that I have spent far too much time driving and far too little time laying around on my couch (covered in dog hair at the moment) but I fear I am at a crossroads and I'm not certain which direction I should turn.

I know my family would tell me to turn and run. They already give me "that look".

The drama level is up again and although I don't have a front row seat, it still affects me and I'm not sure if I should tell him to call me when he decides to force her to stand on her own two feet or keep standing behind him.

I'm not sure if I want to spend the rest of my life watching him go to her rescue. And as the time grows near for me to decide I am ready to meet the children, I'm not sure I want to watch her hurt them with her selfish behavior. (She was "low" at the 6 yr. olds birthday party last night which means it was a stressful night for all. not fair for anyone; especially the kid) I'm not sure if I want to spend the rest of my life disliking someone (I don't like that I dislike a woman I have never met...) and know that I am stuck with her if I want to stick with him.

And I have a feeling that I wouldn't be nice to her if she tried her antics around me; which is not way to grow the esteem of her children or her ex husband. I guess what I am trying to say is that I am not prepared to be the bad guy. I'm already turning in that direction just by expressing my opinions. They aren't nice. And I haven't expressed the worst of them.

I find myself staring at my big girl panties and remembering a day nearly 4 years ago when someone sat me down and we had the talk. And it broke my heart. And it forced me to change in very big ways. How I still wish things had turned out differently even though I know they turned out the way they had to. Over the years, I have wished he had stood behind me while I grew. I was ready to grow, ready to change, and now I have the opportunity to uphold that ideal for someone else. And I don't know which of my two choices is the right one. For either of us. Because while he says he wants things to be different, he has the kids as a reason to keep them the same.

QUIZ TIME

Your roommate has been gone for several days over the holidays. You know she is home because her car is in the driveway and you were expecting her because she let you know she was back in town. You may or may not know about how she stopped for dinner with her boy.

Her bedroom door is shut. There is a car out front that looks like it could either belong to the boy or the neighbor since they have the same make, model, and possibly year, Do you...

A) Keep on walking.
B) Knock on the door and ask if she has company in there. When you don't hear her tiny voice replying "YEAH" knock again. When you don't hear her tiny voice replying "YEAH", say "okay, whatever" and wander off

Decisions and difficulties

I made a choice, about a month ago, to take in a temporary roommate in order to help put a little cushion in my bank account. Things have been tighter than I am used to and while I also cut down on my spending, I thought that an easy way to help myself would be to get off my live alone high horse and put someone in the spare room for a little bit.

I found a nice lady who's house burned down who needed a place to live with her 3 dogs until she moved to TX. (I wasn't expecting her to need a warmer house and better cable services. I have learned that not everyone likes to live with the basics and a sweater like I do)

I think I have already blogged about the adjustments I have had to make for the dogs. I'm pretty much used to them now and enjoy their attention.

Roommate has decided that I need a dog too. I agree to a point. I have been considering adding a canine to the menagerie for a few years now and I finally live in a home that id dog friendly. But I need to make sure that I can support the pup; vet bills, shots, FOOD, time, poop pickup. Since I'm not always sure how I am going to feed myself (after I feed the other animals, of course) I have been feeling as though I should wait. That the right dog will be there when I am ready.

Roommate has fallen in love with a basset hound puppy at the ghetto pet store down the street (I checked it out. I think it's a front for something else. The pet supplies are old and outdated and I wouldn't want to feed my critters anything that came out of there. I'm bothered by the fact that they sell puppies in there) She offered to go in halves with me, estimating her to be about $500.

$500. When I have dropped out of the yearly ski trip (still hoping to find a way to go, but we'll have to see what I pull out of my butt) $500 plus a lifetime of food, care, and everything else that goes along with having a dog. This isn't a spur of the moment decision.

And the shelter pets. I had already decided that if I were to get a dog, I would get one from a rescue, shelter, or off of craigslist. There are so many good dogs out there that need homes and while I would like to remove pretty little hound from the ghetto pet store, I also don't want to support the sale of puppies out of cages. He's gonna sell her and get more of the from whatever breeder he gets them from.

We went back and forth about it all evening. This morning, I woe up ready to talk to her about it. Ready to explain that the purchase of the puppy would take away half the cushion I was building by inviting her here.

But she beat me to it. She's still willing to help me get the dog, but won't hound me about it anymore (heh, hound). And I? need to stick to my guns.

Mostly because I like to complain. Mostly

Living with three dogs and one other human is taking some getting used to. The human? Not so difficult. There are things she does that are different than the way I would do them, but for the most part, I don't really have any issues. I think it's funny that she showers B and I with the condoms she picks up at the gay bars, and she's been in a pretty good moo for the week that she's been here. She's also very thankful to be here.

The dogs on the other hand, those are a little more challenging. They are good dogs, really. But there are things that dogs do that I tend to forget about when I am on craigslist looking at the pet ads and thinking that perhaps I might need another furry companion. Like shed. Two aussies and a golden shed a lot. We vacuum almost every day but still I show up to work covered in dog hair. And breathe heavy. With doggie breath. and muddy footprints on the kitchen floor right after I've mopped. I've had to learn to put the garbage up on the counter when I leave. I think it will stay there are long as they stay here.

Then poor River got tangled in my yarn last night and while I didn't freak, I kinda considered putting them outside until I finished my project. I didn't. But I thought about it. There are two rooms in the house that have been designated dog free. I feel bad during times like now when they have been alone all day and I am holed up in my office, sending them out every time they try to sneak in. They don't even try to come into my bedroom, and for that they are good doggies. I'm not certain if they have been fed this evening as there is no sign that my roommate came home to do so. I have been gone most of the day. I end up feeding them a lot, but I am kind of hoping rack up karma for when I go out of town for a few days next week.

It's a good experiment, this. And I am learning a lot. I'm glad it's a short experiment. We will have to see how it all turns out.

Follower. Then, Funny

I joined FaceBook. I was resisting. Not one person was able to convince me. Then two of my Americorps buddies ganged up and got me to join. Now I am consumed. And reconnecting.

I was contacted by an old friend with whom I had a falling out several years ago. Since I'm pretty sure I blogged about it, I went looking for the post. In the now, he contacted me and we have been chatting all evening. It feels really good to be back in contact with him.

I didn't find the post. What I did find was this old post. Funny how things come around in a circle...

http://ginamonster.blogspot.com/2005/05/if-someone-said-to-you.html

You know, because I really did try t convince work that I should be able to wear roller skates to get around quicker...

New adventures

Due to the miniscule amount in my bank account and the fact that I am living from paycheck to weekly paycheck these days, I decided to take in a temporary roommate. and her three dogs.

I like her, and the dogs are good. It will take a lot of getting used to.

And today... Today, Latisha ate something icky out of the bathroom trash. something REALLY icky. and I can't decide if I should interrupt study time to tell new roommate, who warned me that she likes to eat the bathroom trash or pray that she pukes it or poops it... I feel bad because I forgot to shut the bathroom door. I also kind of hope I FIND the item somewhere (soon).

I just discovered a "new" place to giggle

Now, the article is pretty good but the title, oh sweet mary, the title!


see more pwn and owned pictures

Sheepish

I really need to stop blogging when I am angry and frustrated. B and I had a nice evening yesterday and will spend a bit more time together tonight, I hope, after he gets back from his mom's house. Since it's already in my head that it's possible he won't make it over tonight, I am not frustrated or upset, just going about my business; which should include packing, but I don't feel like it at the moment.

Thoughts

I'm learning about myself over the last couple of days that I am far needier than I give myself credit for. Or that I ever thought possible.

I am accustomed to being on my own and in many ways, I like it that way. I don't have to worry about then I am going to see someone because there is no one to see. I don't have to worry about when he will call because there is no one to call. Being alone has become the easy way out. When I am alone, I see myself as independent, if not a little lonely.

Enter the flavor of the month and suddenly, I find myself wanting to see him as often ass possible. Not every day, but every few days. I find myself bitter at Friday nights alone. Frustrated when there are no plans for Saturday evening either. Pissed that I'm going away for a week and there has been no attempt at visiting, even though the excuses are valid.

And what does that say about me? I'm certainly not staring at the phone, I'm playing in my fabric. And maybe next I will visit with my wheel. I haven't spun in a couple of months and I have a very nice yarn in mind for my brother's Christmas present. Oliver needs to be let out. The kitchen is dirty...And all I can seem to think about is, when will he have time for me?

I feel pathetic. And ridiculous. Petty. And maybe just a little bit normal?

Then I wonder. Was I wrong to give it another chance? Did I agree to try only to be placed somewhere further back in limbo? Somewhere between dating and the hated text message relationship?

some things are better verbatum

this was my message from B this morning:


Bonjour, Comment vas-tu? Je suis bien. Il est tres froid ici. J'ai dormi bien la nuit dernière. J'espère que vous avez un jour grand.

B

PS. Hola. Como estas?


And my reply

Ok. I'm going to do my best with translations here. I'm good this morning. I'm sorry to hear that you are cold but am glad you had a good night last night. either that or you are talking about food. Then there was something about me and big. Are you talking about my boobs? because I remember that feet start with a p but I can no longer spell them in french.


giggle

And then what happened?

B came over after the drama and we talked. It was good. He understands why I was upset. We are going to try and work things out.

I am that girl

I've always tried my best not to bring any drama into the lives of the men that I date. It happens, I'm human, I'm hardly perfect. But I have tried to be as non demanding as possible. I lay out my rules in the beginning, and move ahead into the fun of being in a relationship, casual or serious.

Pardon me if I am feeling a little dramatic at the moment.

You see, when I make plans with someone, I keep them. It's rare that I cancel. I might be a few minutes late, but I call and warn well ahead of time, and am generally no more than 15 minutes late, which, really is not okay, so I try to be on time. (The Spanksgiving celebration is an exception but it took 5 hours to roast the turkey and another 45 minutes to make the broccoli casserole. My oven isn't big enough for the both of them.)

Nearly an hour after he was supposed to be here, I got a message from B. He's fighting with his ex wife. He's not sure when he will be here. In his defense, 15 minutes before he was supposed to be here, he sent a message that he was going to be late. And I felt more than a bit peeved about it because being late is his m.o. 15 minutes after he was supposed to be here I sent a message that said "?" HE replied that he would be leaving in a few minutes.

I don't know what the fight is about but this isn't the first time she has waylaid our plans. I'm not just upset with her though, I'm upset with him. Because this isn't the first time. Since we have no commitment I don't know what I can say. But it's been nearly two months of dating so I feel like I should be able to say something. Something like, hey, this isn't okay. Or, will you tell her you have plans and can't argue about what ever it is right now. I mean, that's okay right? because what isn't okay is me sitting at home all upset and I'm-not-hungry-anymore and bitching on the internet.

I don't want to add more stress to his world. He tells me that my house is the only place he can go to get away. But continuing to say it's okay? Continues to make me a doormat.

Seester says it's time to cut ties. That's the worst part for me. I don't like cutting ties. I feel like I'm giving up. Plus, I'm a coward. I don't like to hurt people so I suck it up and let things work themselves out. Except that once. That one time, I said something, and the repair wasn't what I hoped at all.

This issue? It's not going to work itself out. And He needs to know that it's not okay. That is quite obvious. But is Seester right? is this the end? Or do I tell him what the problem is and hope he fixes it?

And risk being disappointed? Again...

Waiting. Again

I'm not the most timely person in the world. That's putting it lightly. But, um, I wait a lot. I know you have things going on, but I do too. And I've been waiting for half an hour. You aren't here yet. And I'm hungry. Last time, I went ahead and ate. Please don't ask this of me every time. I don't want to start weighing the trade offs.

It was a lovely evening except...

B and I went on a wander about last night. It was the first time he and I had gotten the opportunity to get out of town a bit. We were supposed to leave early since I had a half day at work, but Thursday he found out he had a parent teacher conference for the kindergardener. I was not happy. I griped to my sister and wife. Then I realized that the delay would give me plenty of time to go get my oil changed. it was a good 6 months overdue. bad girl.

I let him plan, partially because I was just looking forward to quality time together and mostly because I don't have any places here that are special to me. I could entertain him for a week in San Diego, but ask me where to go for an evening in Reno or the outskirts, and I haven't a clue. Thus, I didn't have any idea where he would take me.

But he turned up the road. The one that leads past the Cowboy's house. and we stopped at Bucks where I am almost certain the girl who lives in the studio at Cowboy's house was lurking. And then we drove past it. I haven't done so in all these months. I'm not going to pretend I haven't thought about it, but I do try not to be a freaky ass stalker chick and I know that there is only pain up that road.

No, he wasn't there. Neither was the horse trailer so he was off with Tricksie. B caught me looking but didn't say anything.

I'm not sure if he knew that it put me in a bit of a funk for the rest of the evening. Which was wonderful and would have been terribly romantic and lovely if I hadn't been in a funk. I tried to hide it. Sometimes I hide things well.

We went to a place on Slide Mountain just below Mt Rose Ski Resort where you can see all the way to Carson City and the whole of Washoe Lake. You can follow the lights up Pyramid Highway and watch the planes take off from the airport. It's where the Hang Gliders go to take a flying leap. We sat for a bit and waited for the moon to rise but it was being extra slow so we drove the rest of the way up the hill and went to the lake. He showed me this and that and we picked up a pizza, stopping at a park to eat at the water's edge. We took a peek a his office and then went to Squaw Valley. It was pretty there. I would like to see it in the day time. I reminded me a bit of Big Bear. And of Yosemite.

We wandered around looking at the places he loves, something I would like to do down south with someone sometime. All in all it was a pretty good evening. I enjoyed myself and the company. If not for studio girl, I would have avoided looking and could probably for avoided the funk. I'm really trying to focus on the positives. And the man I am with, not the ones who didn't want me. sometimes, they just creep up on me.

The infamous turkey

If you follow me on Twitter at all, which, you all would be if I still had a feed here, (I took it off because I wanted to tweet about B but there was another fellow I was talking to and he read my blog and I wanted to tell him personally that I had met someone, not have him find out here. That seemed wrong to me) you would know that for the RRG Spanksgiving I cooked the turkey. When I volunteered to cook the turkey, I didn't know that the ref, Run Jeremy, who was providing the bird (He volunteered to bring it, but didn't know he had to cook it) was going to provide a 20 pound turkey. 20 fucking pounds!! Thankfully B was here to help me take the guts out and lift it around some of the time because that fucker was heavy. But, here it is, in all it's perfect turkey goodness. And let me tell you, it was as tasty as it looks. AND I am also a stuffing genius.

I'm gonna pepper the internet...

Because this is frickin fantastic

And mildly safe for work. You might want to turn it down. Better yet, watch at home.

This started me leaking again

Messages between the boy and I, and as I sit here posting here and texting him, truer words have never been spoken:

"I have some issues left over, I guess. They usually come up when I think I am fine"

My goodness, I think he might be reading my mind.

Little Purges

We all know that I tend to hold on for a very long time to past relationships and people who have moved out of my life. That I never stop caring, that I never stop wondering how they are doing even if the end caused me a lot of hurt. It's something I work on every time a memory pops into my head. To live in the now, to appreciate the memories but to move forward and not let memories, which can sometimes be skewed the way we want them to have been, stop me from growing as a person and inviting people into my life that share in my joys now, as opposed to people who I remember fondly from several years ago. I'm not talking about the people I haven't talked to in a couple of months because we are busy but can pick up anytime, I'm talking about the ones who didn't return my last communication or I didn't return theirs, because it was time for them to pass out of my life whether I wanted them to or not.

I happened across an old email. I know why I saved it, I just wasn't expecting it. When I read it again, it made me cry. And when I finished reading what might have been one of the most courageous correspondences I have ever composed, and the reply, I finally did the right thing. I hit delete.

Every time I read those old emails, I get hurt all over again. And that isn't healthy.

It's always possible that those people may return to my orbit. They are always welcome. Most people are in my life because I want them there. I rarely kick anyone out. But, I think I need to work on recognizing that relationships change. And the past belongs in the past. And ancient emails belong in the trash.

Because it's convenient?

In the months since I moved into my cute little house with the tree out front, I have reverted back to my teenage hyper green-ness. As Rebturtle will attest, I was the president of my high school environmental club and quite rabid about environmental issues. Heaven forbid you should pull a clump of grass from the ground in front of me. After school was over, I headed strait into the Americorps*NCCC where I spent 10 months pulling invasive plants in the woods and building trails, among other things. I graduated from the program fully intending to change the world! and do something huge! And...

I discovered that there is no recycling service in most apartment complexes. And gosh, it's really frustrating to have to take my cans and paperboard to the center. Plus, it annoyed the boyfriend. And I didn't drink that much soda anyway.

And so I languished. Promising myself that when I had a house I would RECYCLE! and when I learned about it, COMPOST! Three houses later, I do. I think it's fun to think about whether this or that will go into the compost bin which is currently pretty well full of Bunny poo (Its a very small bin) and the Worms! They live on my counter and eat leftovers! (and need a bigger bin too) And the baskets outside! all I have to do it put stuff in there and I KNOW it will get turned into something else. I just wish I could compost all those leaves that are falling off my trees.

So, I was talking to a coworker the other day. And I was getting all excited about the things that I try to do to reduce my carbon footprint (namely, my heater generally hovers around 64 when I am home. I think I am channeling Calvin's Dad) And he said the following:

"I don't do any of that because I figure people like you will make up for it"

I went after him with a box of saw blades. Ok, it was empty (ooh, I could compost that!)

And then, as I walked away, I asked myself, if it weren't convenient, would I let people like my Seester who is more conscious than I, carry my load too? And when will we wake up as a society and care for reals??

This helps me...

www.idealbite.com

DARN!!

DARN IT ALL TO HECK> I MEAN, FUCK!

heh.

That helped.

Remember how in the last post which you probably haven't ready yet...(Go do it why doncha...)

I was all proud of myself for buying Quickbooks and entering the 21st century?? HMMM?

APPARENTLY...

I need to upgrade my OS or something. I know it's been a couple of years now since I bought my computer and that Tiger is now available and has been for like, forever, but Damnit! I wanted to play with my new toy!

Radomness

I should be working. Not working at work, but working at my business which I can smell so strongly from here as it cures on the curing racks.

Soap. I've been soaping again. I created instead of skating last wednesday and although I feel a little guilty for missing practice, I know it was the right thing to do because I used my time wisely.

Today I invested money I don't have in my business. For the first time in years I spent money on something that wasn't supplies, postage or Licenses. I finally bought QuickBooks. It's time to move into the 21st century and start tracking things correctly. I hope it can do all the things I know how to do in my head. I also bought a program that will help me send email newsletters. 21st century. Email has power. I hope...I think...I have not installed them yet. There's a batch of Butt Soap staring at me. Waiting to be wrapped. I brought the wrapping home today. Something new I want to try. Catalog pages that would have gone to the compactor and then to the dump. Extra catalogs that a company sends me. Thousands of pages of waste. The catalog is a good foot thick and has been holding down the floor in my office for a couple of months because the housekeepers don't throw away stuff left NEXT to the can and because when they didn't, I didn't have the heart. I hope my customers appreciate the gesture. It seems like a better thing to do than to buy new blank paper to wrap in. It's just going to get thrown away anyway.

Boy, boy, there's still a boy. and he is yet unnamed because I just can't call him China Man despite the dark comedy of the conversation that inspired the name. We are still enjoying each other. Learning what is safe. There isn't a whole lot I consider safe. I rarely trust anyone that far. I've been remembering a lot of the past lately. Trying to move forward. Always trying to move forward. I won't let it hold me back but I won't forget the lessons either. He doesn't need to know those things. It's too early in the game. I know there are things he doesn't tell me too. I wonder but won't push. It's part of the life he has when he isn't with me.

How dark I sound to myself. perhaps some punkin ice cream will break me out of this odd mood before the boy arrives. And hats. I haven't made a hat today. Tiny hats for needy babies. I will try to remember to take a picture of them when the pile is done. I'm at 4. My goal at the end of the week is 10.

thanks chickie

Thanks to chickie, I had to get on peepalot. because I'm a follower like that. I think it's a never before (on here) seen picture so um, go find it, I'm scantily clad and wearing fishnets.

http://peepalot.com/r/204

Updates

I've been pretty busy with derby. We aren't bouting again until the end of January/ beginning of February, but I still have practice and events. Except tonight. Tonight I needed a break. I needed to not do derby, whether it was crafting or attending something for one evening. There's a launch party tomorrow night for Reno MetroMix, and a party at Tonic Friday night. I just needed to be Gina for a night. What did I do?

I made TWO batches of soap. YAY! That's all I have molds for. But I really need to get back into the swing of soaping. and spinning. I have not spun in weeks. I bought fabric today for holiday gifts. I'm really excited about what I will be making. Can't tell you though, I've got family watching.

I'm seeing someone. I've been avoiding mentioning it because I had been talking to another nice fellow and well, I happened to go on a date with one before the other. And we hit it off. Since I know he's been reading, I thought it best to tell him before he read it here. The dangers of being online.

I can't seem to come up with a snappy nickname because nothing really sticks out as strange or quirky. Sure, he rides a motorcycle, but he's no Biker Bob (thank goodness!) His job isn't anything unusual like Louie (Louie runs a cab company-hence the nickname) Mostly, he just sits back and watches me run. Which is what I need right now. Not that he doesn't have his own stuff going on, he has plenty of that, but right now, he seems to understand that I'm on the go all the time. And he's content to be on the go with me.

He's so much what I said I would never date. Complete with three kids. I haven't met them. I can wait. It's better to. It still freaks me out. But I realized when he (and the other fellow, who has 2 kids and seemed equally as nice) contacted me that at 31, the likelihood of me meeting someone who doesn't have kids is low. And, maybe I should be more open minded. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And it hasn't been so far. With the possible exception of a babysitter who isn't afraid to interrupt our evening because she's bored and wants to go home.

But meeting them. That can wait. I want to make sure that I am not a passing instance. They don't need to have random women in and out of their lives and I don't need to get attached to kids. Look how much it hurts to know I will likely never see the Cowboy's dog again. I miss that dog, dangit.

He treats me well though. Better than I have been treated in a long time. We have nice conversations and he seems truly interested in me. He actually pays attention to my stories (as evidenced by his memory of the random things I say) and oohs and aahs just the right amount over my projects. We shall see, we shall see.

I now present to you...

Abnoxiously Cuteness. Oliver is obviously my bunny because he likes to pretend like he's living a literary life. Since he can't type, he has made a spot for himself among books. You can also tell that he's a bunny after my own heart because he likes to climb into boxes. I don't fully understand my desire to climb into boxes, but I'm glad I'm not the only one around here who can't resist.

Where did I go and why couldn't you go too?

I apologize for the sudden restriction on my blog over the last couple of days. My dad called and wanted the roller girl website so he could check us out. I knew if he dug deep enough...So I disappeared for a couple of days. But I am back now. I didn't like that at all!

Generally, for the best

So, my friend Dennis asked me today whether I had seen that place where I used to work on the news this morning. Apparently, they announced that they are going to lay some people off.

After thinking about it for a bit, and I am going to admit that not all my thoughts and comments were kind, but I will get over that eventually, I realized a few things. And I was thankful, actually, for my good fortune in getting let go in time to find new employment.

1. If I had stayed there, I would have continued to try and buy a house. It is likely that I would have been able to find one in my price-range-at-the-time.

2. Chances are, I would have been laid off in the coming weeks.

3. I would have lost my house. And that whole dream of ownership which would have been turned upside down.

I am hoping that these realizations help me to get over my anger towards that place as I am in a MUCH better place now and feel secure in my little house. Even though my office is a disaster area.

An unwelcome adventure

I received a phone call on Tuesday from an old friend. Someone I have been corresponding with for about 10 years. This man has children my age and we have never had a romantic relationship. It has always been very casual, exchanging stories and pictures. We met when he applied for a position at my company. I made all the travel arrangements and even though he didn't get the job and I didn't remain in that position, we continued to correspond. Occasionally, over the years, he would invite me out to dinner with him and his children and a couple of times to rugby matches when he was to be in my area.

He called Tuesday afternoon to say that he would be passing through on his way home from Sacramento and he wanted to know if I would like to go to dinner. I was to choose something casual, so I picked a brewery near my house where the food is good and the prices are nice. The following is an edited copy of what I sent to my Derby Wife the next day. I have changed names where needed.


He showed up right after I sent you the message about smiling at old guys. Hugged me hello, and we had dinner. During dinner, he said he wanted to see my house. No biggie, he’s on my Christmas card list, I’ve always felt comfortable with him. Then, when we left, he gave me another hug and pulled me in close and kinda laid his head on mine. Like a side hug, you know? When I tried to pull away, he held on a bit, then acted as if he wanted to walk with his arm around my waist.

In my world, that’s a rather intimate gesture reserved for very close friends, family members, boyfriends. I skipped away.

Then he made a comment about driving over Donner Summit today and getting in the mood to eat someone, and boy didn’t I look good enough to eat (danger, Will Robinson!) By this time I was several feet away and I told him to just keep over there.

He followed me back to the house, I gave him the grand tour, ushering him out of my room when I realized he was looking at my underwear on the floor, and we chatted in the living room for awhile. (I was thankful for the distraction of Oliver and for the fact that I keep the living room window shade open) He seemed a little hurt when I pulled up a chair, but I knew there wasn’t room on the couch for the both of us.

(Note: I have a love seat. There is a picture of it Here there isn't a whole lot of room on it and he took up more than one cushion)

About 9 he suggested that he might be keeping me up. I agreed. He then asked if I was going to ask him to stay.

I had thought about it. I like to think that any of my friends are welcome to use the spare room if they need a place to go, but after the whole hugging scene in front of the restaurant, I didn’t think that was a good idea. He hadn’t made any hotel plans, (I asked) and he was already there, so I set him up in the spare room, apologizing that the sheets weren’t changed after my mom used them. (I was NOT expecting company!!)

Hug goodnight, two kisses on the cheek, and a bit of a snuggle into my neck.

I asked to take my shower first and did so, locking the doors to my bedroom and to the bathroom when I was in there. I didn’t run around in my towel, and put PJs on strait away.

He knew my door was locked because after his shower, he knocked and tried to open my door. I answered, asked if he needed anything, he said no and said goodnight again. Kiss on the cheek.

I locked the door again behind me and had a fitful nights sleep. I was snoozing as usual this morning when he called from the living room. So I got up (actually, this turned out to be a good thing because I then had time to feed myself in addition to the critters.) and we said our goodbyes. Since I didn’t have time for breakfast, he left. Before he went, he said that he had hoped we could sleep together. “Not like that”, he said, “just share”. I let him know that I am an alone sleeper.

I have tried to figure out how I might have invited this behavior, but I really don’t think I did. I don’t act towards him any different than I do towards anyone else. I try to avoid putting myself in weird situations, it seems that they find me instead…


Quite frankly, I can't figure out how it is that he might think this is okay. Even now, a few days later, I am bothered by my encounter. I don't like to feel uncomfortable in my own house, and I most certainly did. I also don't generally sleep with my friends. There are a few exceptions to this, girl friends, family members. I'm hoping I've learned my lesson from anyone else...ahem. But certainly not random men who expect to pop into town and stay at my house!

At this point. I don't know how to respond to his emails. He thanked me for a nice time, and gave no indication that he might feel badly for making me uncomfortable. Or that he even realizes that he did. My friend at work says i should tell him he crossed the line, but I don't like confrontation and feel like it would be so much easier to never respond to him again. But then, that tends to be my reaction. I think the best thing to do is to give it a few more days and see how I feel about it. It will always creep me out, but whether I want to make an issue of it is a different story.

In other news, I haven't spoken to or texted Louie since last sunday so I'm thinking that's over. it wasn't working anyhow.

Another, Another phone call

yeah. Apparently he needed to tell me everything is ok so I am off the worry hook a little. Except for the medical things. I'm still worried about those.

Another phone call

Janelle called again last night. She apologized for the last call and then proceeded to lay it on me again. This time, she wanted me to know that she has ended her relationship with my father. She said she just can't live in a car anymore. That the stress of being homeless, the frustration of not being able to accept jobs because his ego can't handle it, the constant boredom of sitting in the library all day every day, has finally gotten to her. After a year of doing this, she is done.

I'm not sure if she wanted me to applaud her (I do, I just wasn't going to say it) for being strong or beg her to give him another chance, but she felt like I needed to know.

She also needed me to know that he is having health problems. High Cholesterol. High Blood Pressure. His diabetes is off the chart; he has been to the hospital a lot for it lately. His bottom gums are turning black (anyone have a clue what this means? Because I don't know but I know it's bad) other things surprisingly too private to mention.

And can I call him on the phone after I put money on it so it is active and so he knows someone loves him?

No. I can't. Not really. The emotional part is too much. The financial part is too much. I have nothing to say to him these days. What am I going to tell him? That I am living comfortably in a 3 bedroom home all by myself? With a spare room for guests, but no he can't come live with me? That I won't send him the $5 I made selling a drop spindle? (totally proud of that, by the way)

The weight drops upon me. I cannot do this. I don't know the pin number (I can't remember what my grandmother and before her my great grandparent's phone number was, I can barely remember to eat breakfast in the morning. Or what I wore yesterday) And even if I knew, I have to pay rent. Bills. Groceries. The things that I need to keep me and my critters alive and healthy.

She's worried that he will be suicidal. That he will take all those pills he has. Pain meds for his knee. Whatever is floating around on the streets these days.

I don't want him to die. I don't want him to hurt. I don't want to have to worry about him anymore either. I don't want to feel guilty every time I go out and have Wendy's because I could sent that $5 to him and maybe he can eat a little better that day. Or have a gallon of gas to get to a job interview. But he wouldn't, I know that. I know that every cent I have sent has been spent in a way that I likely wouldn't approve of. And I don't think it's right for me (and my Seester) to feel badly that we cannot support him.

I'm tired of that. I live a good life here. I am SO BLESSED. And I try to share when I can. But I feel as though I have no more to give him.

And I feel guilty for it. I feel like I have turned my back on him. That I am abandoning him in his time of need. That a little bit of fat trimming on my part could really make a difference for him. I don't NEED new bearings. (actually, I kinda do. maybe not the expensive ones I want, but I do need new ones) Maybe I could sell some fiber or yarn. But really? I need the money I would earn from that to support me. Me Me Me. It all comes back to me. I have to take care of myself and yet I feel like I should be sharing with him. Yet I don't. because he isn't helping himself.

And he didn't share with me when he had plenty. And I feel bad for feeling bitter about that. I know I always will. I will resent him for the rest of my life, and that will eat at me too. Because I don't want to resent anyone. I don't want to harbor anger. Especially over money. How would I react differently to this situation if there hadn't been any money? Would he be homeless now if he hadn't had plenty to blow through?

And so you see my struggle. again.

Doing the right thing is hard when you don't know what the right thing is.

My Own Damn Fault

I got a notice from the DMV not too long ago. It said I needed to verify my insurance. I didn't do it right away.

I got a certified letter from the DMV today...I haven't actually received it yet, but I know what it says.

Funny, I must have known because this very issue kept me up last night.

I have non one to blame for the fee but myself...

Reno Roller Girls Saturday September 20!

We're bouting again! Doors open at 6:30, bout starts at 7:30 at Roller Kingdom in Reno! Come out and play with us!

I am blue with excitement!

Dear Bush Administration,

I'm just wondering why you think it's ok for the "government" and by that I mean me and my fellow taxpayers, to buy up all this bad debt. Seems to me, and I am hardly a financial genius, that buying it doesn't make it go away. In fact, it seems like taking on that bad debt means you will be at risk of the same bankruptsy you are resuing the mortgage companies from.

It seems like you are telling us that by buying it it will go away. But like other "toxic" items, redistributing it doesn't make it go away, it only redistributes the problem.

Now, I know that people are losing their homes. And that the economy is tanking fast. That what happens in our economy affects the world and I DON'T EVEN WANT to look at my 401K because I know it isn't looking so good.

But I don't know if continued government bailout is the answer. It seems like the "easy way" and a continuance of the very issue that got us in this predicament in the first place.

Buying more than we could handle, and figuring the goverment would protect us if we got in trouble.

I realize that I only have a high school diploma and a certificate in Massage Therapy. I am also aware that I tend to sleep in class, which is precicely why I didn't go to college. But I do remember something in Economics class about supply and demand. And it seems as though this country has forgotten the neato little fulcrum drawing provided by countless high school teachers. (I didn't forget, Mr Haiman!) It also seems to have forgotten that credit is a neat and powerful thing if used wisely. And a dangerous toy of used unwisely.

It seems to me like I am paying for other people's mistakes. That many folks are getting away with being irresponsible. The banks for giving out loans more feely than the guy on Halloween who buys full size candy bars and dumps them into your bag by the case. The citizens for knowingly taking on more house and toys than they can afford.

I'll never forget the first time I got prequalified for a loan. I went to my friend and said, "What can you do about getting me into this house?" I prequalified for $160,000. the house was $400,000 for a two bedroom 1 bath on a little bit of land. In hicksville. And she said we could swing it. That I could state my income higher than it was and get into that house if I really wanted it. I decided it was too much. Smart move for me, if I still lived in the neighborhood, I could probably buy the house for half that.

I made a smart choice. But I still have to pay for other's mistakes. I'm not sure how that is protecting my interests if that is indeed what the government is supposed to be doing.

Sincerely,
A concerned constituant

stitching block

So, I'm working on another tea towel tour-Where you send a towel all around and everyone stitches on it-and um, I'm stumped. See, we have the opportunity to choose a theme (I generally just like to see what people want to do on my towels) The towel in hand? Her theme is...

Vintage-pre 1950's (ok, no problem!) Places named after a women.

Now, I think I might be able to make it look vintage-y if I didn't feel like I needed to fill the rest of the request.

Actually, I'm feeling a little cranky about this one which never bodes well for my performance. And the towel is already behind...

HELP??

Trying to make sense of it all

Received my usual after work call from Louie. I wondered if I would. I am confused. I wonder if last night's kiss had anything to do with the horrid dragon breath I woke myself up with around 4 am. Good god, I thought something died in there.

I forgot to mention that my father called yesterday. It was kind of him to remember my birthday. he's actually been pretty good about that lately. I wasn't quite sure what to say. beyond "thank you". It wasn't that long ago that his gf called at 6:30 am so that I could hear them argue and then again. And then again at 7 to tell me all about what is going on between them before she hung up on me.

I'm not really sure what she expects me to do. If her accusations are true that he is strung out again, then I am certainly not sending money. Not that I really can. Or that I want to despite the guilt that I somehow "allow" him to live on the street. I know it isn't my fault, it's an ingrained guilt. I try to ignore it. Even if his only trouble outside of his lack of home or job is his lack of shoes, I tend to think he prefers to be without shoes. He is, after all, the king of the flip flop. Outside of weddings and funerals, I don't really recall him being in anything else. Except that his diabetes makes a lack of proper footwear a really poor decision.

Sigh.

At least she hung up before I had a chance to remind her that he chooses to be this way (yes, he does.) and that I have myself to care for, and that I can't very well buy him shoes in Reno or send him a gift certificate when I don't have an address for him.

Another year gone by

Another year, another birthday. I am officially in my thirties, even though technically, I have been there for awhile. It was a good weekend.

My mom flew up on Thursday and I took Friday off. We ate at restaurants and prepared for the BBQ I planned for Saturday partially to celebrate my day and partially to give my mom the opportunity to meet my friends, most importantly my wife. Wifey has become such an integral part of my life...We toured my warehouse on Friday and drove to the nearest brothel to have lunch since they advertise that they are a restaurant, saloon and museum. Bu they didn't answer at the gate so we left. WE spent the evening watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and drinking iced blended Baileys.

Poo arrived Saturday.

Saturday was a wonderful sunny day. I don't know what I would have done without Momi and Poo who helped me get the homestead ready to the party. My guests were plentiful and had a good time, I got tipsy but not too drunk, and we all enjoyed the goodies that fell out of the pinata Wifey brought. Louie was unable to attend due to a previous arrangement. But he did call and invite me to dinner for my birthday which made me feel all gooshy and happy.

I spent the morning skating. First at the skate park and then twice around the marina. My mom overheard some lady making nasty comments about my skirt which was short enough to see my underwear-you know, the ones I was wearing over nylons and over another pair of underwear. I am conservative for a derby girl!!

It was hard taking my mom back to the airport, but I had my date with Louie to look forward to and I dressed carefully in a demure dress and pearls. I was going for the opposite of my earlier outfit just in case I ran into that lady again. You never know. Reno is pretty small. Olive Garden is popular.

Dinner was nice and we made small talk as usual. I invited him to stay for a movie but he needed to go to bed early. He came in for a little while and we made more small talk. I was hoping for birthday kisses, he wanted to see what happens when you let Oliver out of his cage. I tried leaning near, perhaps I smell like garlic. Regardless, I think I have been downgraded to friend based on the goodnight kiss he planted on my cheek.

I shouldn't be upset. But I always am.

Better this way anyway.

There goes Mr Finnigan; begin again.

So much to say. Not sure how to say it. I'll say that part two of the bunny adventure is up coming and it has a good ending. But that will have to wait for another day.

I got my drum carder the other day and have carded 1 batt. I'm working on another. I'm going to have one bigger arm. again.

I am confused by men. Not that that is anything new. It's not that I don't know what to do, it's the fear of doing it and the hope that I am wrong and that time will fix the issues. Same old thing, different guy, different issues. Truth is that I am spending a lot of energy on someone who only really seems sort of interested. And I think I need more than that. I've never thought of myself as being a needy person, of being a woman who needs constant attention. If I hadn't been told on more than one occasion that I am indeed low-to-no maintenance, I would argue with myself that no woman is going to think she is high maintenance or needy. In some ways Louie does give me attention. Via text. And last night, for example, he stopped by while my cousins were here. Little efforts go really far in my mind. I know he was tired.

After a couple of months of dating, I would like to think we would have more in depth conversations. When we do speak, our conversations mostly consist of work and everyday things. I miss talking about politics, religion, why exactly it is that Grover has to announce that he is cute and furry when he is, quite obviously, cute and furry. I can't get through the apparent wall. Maybe there is no wall. I'm not used to having a difficult time finding conversation. I like to think I can talk about almost anything. It seems like only the superficial things come up. Occasionally, we'll tease each other about getting old or favorite baseball teams, but that is rare. For a moment, during those times, it feels normal between us. That doesn't last long.

I would like to see him more. That is a little more difficult. But at the very least, it would be nice to think that he wants to see me more.

What else do I want? I don't know. These are things I should be telling him, but I can't. It's cowardly, I know, but I don't feel right discussing it on the phone. These are not the sort of things you text. I'm certainly not going to bring it up with my cousins in the next room. When will we be alone again? I don't know, actually. There have been no plans. No invites, no what are you doings. My mom will be here all next weekend and we don't tend to see each other during the week. Before I know it, another confused month will go by. I'll be writing these words again in October and you all, dear readers will be rolling your eyes again, knowing you have heard it all before.

You have already heard it all before. I'm tired of hearing it too.

When will I admit to myself that I am simply better off alone?

The Great Bunny Odyssey

Somehow, the other day, I got it into my head that rather than a dog or a cat, I should get a bunny. A house bunny. An ANGORA house bunny so that I could spin (and sell) the fiber. But mostly because I, love bunny. Remember Jack? I miss Jack and all his bunny goodness. And Baby? Loves furry critters too.

So I set out on a search. Craigslist, petfinder, no one had an angora nearby. The I had an idea. I looked on craigslist in Sacramento. And found some bun.

I contacted the woman, and was assured that her farm is disease free. I don't want to go through the heartache I went through with Jack. We agreed to meet. Yesterday.

My darling wife would go with me.

What I didn't know was that it's HELL to get out of Reno on Labor Day. Labor Day after the Rib Cook off. Labor Day after the Burning Man Festival. It's fun watching the burners go by though...We turned off at Truckee and decided to go down 50 instead of the 80. Scenic. It was an extra hour. I wasn't too worried though because I hadn't heard from the bunny lady. I didn't have her phone number, all our correspondence had been through email, but I had left mine. The trip around the lake was lovely.

Do you know how many people leave Tahoe on Labor Day?

This trip turned out to be a huge mistake planning wise. But Wifey and I always have fun together and we both agreed that we should turn around. We tried to find a farm in Carson, Minden, or Gardnerville, but alas. I remain bunless.

Until Thursday. I spoke to the Bunlady today. We meet on Thursday in Auburn. She will bring the loot. Wifey will be in attendance.

Then I found her phone number in my purse. I had it all along.

Stay tuned for the Great Bunny Caper