A fallen squirrel.

[Bambooki]

Sweet Pete It's Cold

The sky is stunning blue today. Unfortunately I wouldn't know because the minute I stepped outside the gel on my eyeballs froze. It's horrendous. The ground is frozen solid and ice is everywhere, stagnating and becoming harder and more compact every day. It's become super-ice and can't be destroyed by salt or ice-melter.

Tonight The Fer and I leave for Cleveland. He's having his second Lasik procedure performed tomorrow morning, because the first one back in 1999 wasn't successful. His eyes were okay for a while, and then his vision slipped back and now he can't see at all. I've never had a problem with my lasik. I went to a Lasik pioneer in St. Petersburg, one of the first guys in the country to do the procedure. I didn't even know that the surgery could reverse itself. Supposedly The Fer is in the vast minority. It strikes me as iffy, though. I don't know how I feel about his doctor. Mine never said anything about potentially reverting to poor eyesight. The poor guy has been having awful headaches in the past few weeks, so I'm very glad that his vision will be restored tomorrow. However, if this procedure is unsuccessful a third time, I'm taking him to my doctor in St. Pete. I've never heard of an unsuccessful Lasik surgery, and I don't like any of this bullshit. Lasik is a wonderful thing, and it was the best investment I ever made. My vision is better than perfect. I've actually got a video of my surgery at home. If eyeball surgery doesn't bother you, it's fascinating to watch. But either way, I’ll be there with him tomorrow. I know he’s nervous.

I had bad dreams last night. About nuclear weapons. Must have been the State of the Union seeping into my brain. I dreamt that The Fer had to get into a plane and take a bomb away from the city (sound like an episode of 24 to anyone?) and he wasn’t coming back. And after he was gone I was attacked and raped by three men who kept me locked in a bedroom in an old house. Somehow my family finally found me, but as they were getting me out of there the nuclear weapon went off and that was pretty much it. It was something.

Boss Man is out today, so I can work in peace. This morning I wish I’d had my camera; the sun was rising and the sky was blue, and in the distance huge billows of steam were rising from a cooling tower on the river. And in the light of the sunrise, the billows were pink like cotton candy, and in the foreground the branches on the hilltops were covered in thick frost. I really have to start carrying it with me wherever I go.

I feel okay, mentally. I've gotten it together. Working on being tolerant and forgiving of those around me, especially here at the office. But at home with family too. Last night my dad brought me and The Fer along to help him buy a computer. It was horrible. He yelled at the salesman. We spent an hour there, and that's a record for him. Normally it's three hours of questions and hassle. I'm still a little irked with him, but he's my father, so I'm trying to let it go.

 

[Bambooki]

Without a doubt, Cleveland is the coldest place on earth. I wouldn’t live there for anything. I’m close enough to the great lakes as it is here in WV. Yesterday we woke up in our hotel in Cleveland, and the temperatures were almost unbelievable. The wind was what truly made it awful, though. It hurt to expose your skin to the air. The car blew around on the road. I hated it.

The Fer’s Lasik went well. He dozed on the way home, because he was supposed to keep his eyes closed for three hours or so. A few times he peeked, and saw road signs with crystal clarity. I remember the same feeling, and it was amazing to realize how much I’d been missing. I’m so happy to see him looking around with his eyes open, and not squinting. I hope his headaches go away soon. We had a good trip, even though it wasn’t for play or fun. The three-hour drive up gave us a lot of time to just talk to one another, sans distractions from TV or telephone or Doberman. We did some initial wedding planning. To this day I can’t believe I’ve encountered a man who’s not afraid of talking and planning and getting excited about the big M. He’s amazing.

I came back today to a voice mail which alerted me to the fact that I’d completely forgotten to get some things to Boss Lady #1 before her meeting yesterday. It was a big oops, and entirely my fault. She’s out this morning, and requested that I just have the necessary documents ready to go this afternoon. I hope I don’t catch hell for it. I just goofed. Shit happens. Sometimes they understand that around here and sometimes they don’t.

I’ve been thinking about my future, in conjunction with my job here. Maybe if The Fer and I get married next spring, it can be the catalyst for leaving this job. It will have been three years, and that’s about what I planned on giving to this place. I certainly don’t want to leave them hanging, but this isn’t where I ultimately want to be. The thing is, this job is secure and cushy. I get two paid vacation and 1.5 paid sick days every single month. Currently I have 120 vacation hours accrued. (Not so much sick time b/c of my knee.) And that’s great. Benefits: a retirement plan and health insurance. It’s going to be hard to give that up. Maybe I shouldn’t give it up right away. The flip side is that while I’m comfortable here, it’s going to eventually cause me to stagnate. I want to take photos. That’s clearly where my heart is right now. There, and in the environment. Either path would make me happy, and they go hand in hand, really. The longer I stay here, the more comfortable and lazy I will become. I want to get up and get going with my career. This isn’t my career. It’s a job. A rolling stone gathers no moss. I’m gathering moss. I’m fuzzy and green. I don’t want to lose my ability to roll altogether. I can’t stay more than another year or so. When I’m dying I want to be able to look back on my life and know that I didn’t waste it doing something I didn’t love. For some reason, this job makes me tell myself, “I’ll look for a better job in a few months. I’ll inquire about school later. I’ll stay here for a bit longer.” That’s no good. Maybe being unemployed will be the best kick in the ass I could ask for. I just have to make myself jump, when the time comes.

This weekend is my mom’s 56th (?) birthday. Family hooplah. My house is an utter pig stye. A STYE, I tell you. It’s downright awful. Hairballs blowing down the stairs, clean and dirty laundry everywhere in my bedroom, Dobermud on the kitchen floor, and a pile of unpaid bills. Nobody tell Gypsy—she’d be ashamed of how I let my Feng Shui go straight to hell.

 

[Bambooki]

My heart aches. For a silly reason, of course, but it still aches.

I can’t seem to do anything right in this job of mine. I work in an office, and we deal with donors, and no matter how hard I try, I always seem to screw something up. I did indeed catch hell for my late reports. I got a chewing from BossMan, who decided to take on a fatherly tone and say patronizing things like, “Maybe we should start having meetings in the morning to help you prioritize.” Fuck you, and fuck the people who chewed you out about me, making you feel like you had to pass on the misery. It was an accident. I made a mistake. I told him that. Plain and simple. “I made a mistake. I just forgot. That’s all I can say for myself.”

The thing is, working in an office requires a certain finesse, and it’s something I simply lack. I just don’t have office skills. I don’t have attention to detail or the ability to think clearly and quickly. I’m a slow thinker and a slow processor of information. Things have to be explained to me twenty-five times. It’s just how I am. I know I’m intelligent, but I’m not really so sharp. I’m not quick. Which makes working in an office difficult. Even when I was my dad’s assistant, I was always screwing up. But at least then he didn’t make me feel like an idiot. These people almost seem to enjoy it. I constantly feel like a failure around here. I’m always being asked to re-do things and correct things and to pay a little more attention next time. Yet I do pay attention. I try. No, I don’t like this job and no I don’t push myself as hard as I should, but that doesn’t mean I do a half-assed job. Like my mother, I’ve got a scatterbrain. I’m a little dumb and that’s just the way it is. Truly, I don’t belong in an office where I can do potential damage. Nobody should have to clean up after my mistakes and always be double-checking my work. Why have me at all if you have to do those things? I’m a waste of money and space. The thing is, I can’t help it. An office clearly isn’t where I belong.

Today has been a wake-up call. I’m going to spend this weekend thinking long and hard about how much longer I want to be here, and if I’m wasting my time and the time of my employers. I’m a square peg and this place seems to be a round hole. I just don’t fit. And it hurts to feel like stupid. It hurts me so much.

 

[Bambooki]

This entry will be jumbled. I am jumbled today. The me I know has stepped out.

Made it in to work today. I’m finally succumbing to my cold which has been lurking for three weeks. Sunday night it arrived. Along with the snow. Monday morning I woke up to ice, everywhere. And despite the danger, I tried to make it in to work. I figured that after Friday’s disaster, I could use all the brownie points I could muster. But halfway up the first hill, my car (while in 4wd) was like a pinball, all over the road. I turned around. Most other employees didn’t even try. At least I tried. I came home and the cold really hit me then. The Fer was there because his boss had told him to work from home, so he took care of me. I wasn’t, and still am not, in good shape.

The weekend ended up being okay. The Fer brought me a rose to make up for my lousy Friday. We walked on the ice at the lake house with my father, and celebrated my mom’s birthday with the family on Sunday. My dad was in a nasty mood, and got snappy with me for the first time in a long while. My mom says this thing with The Boy has really changed him, and that he hasn’t been himself for a long time. He’s not the same person, and I’m desperately hoping it doesn’t wear down their marriage. I expect things will work out, but I believe it will take years for my father’s relationship with The Boy to be repaired. Deep down I believe my father is very angry at himself, too, for raising a kid that would do such a thing. As if he could stop The Boy.

Oh no, it’s sleeting outside. That’s no good.

Anyway, I feel like my family is broken these days.

Meanwhile, I’ve continued to think about my job, and how I don’t really belong here. Nothing has changed; I still don’t feel like I’m really qualified for this type of work. I did come to the conclusion over the weekend that I think I’d really enjoy having my own business. Nothing retail or that would have a traditional “office” to tie me down, but something along the lines of photography of some sort. Of course that’s way down the line after I pay my dues, but that still doesn’t mean I’m going to entertain this place too much longer.

I may have to, on second thought, because there’s a chance The Fer may lose his health insurance. There’s a bit of a bruhaha developing between his boss and a client who provides The Fer’s insurance, and they might be parting ways, thus losing The Fer’s benefits. I’m keeping my mouth shut about my opinions this time, because the last time I opened my mouth about such things, I said more than I would have liked to and put The Fer in an awkward position. I definitely have opinions, but I’m not even going to post them here. It’s The Fer’s job and his relationship with these people is his business and not mine. Being a butt-inski can’t help anything and will just make me look bad in the long run. I’ve learned these things the hard way; opinions are never a good thing to share, even if you’re directly asked for yours. As my father the attorney once said, “Never answer a question directly.”

Today nobody in the office seems irked with me. Boss Lady #1 even mentioned the Friday incident without mentioning my screw-up at all. I guess she’s moved past it; either that or Boss Man was just coming down hard on me because he felt like it. It’s entirely possible. I know he thinks I’m wrong for this job. I think that, too. Everyone has told me that I’m not a scatterbrain, but I really am. I am intelligent, yes, and talented. But that doesn’t mean I’m well-suited to sit at this desk. Nobody is going to change my mind about that.

I think the rift between The Fer and PGMF continues to grow. PGMF has said nothing, and called to ask how The Fer was doing after his eye surgery, and spoke highly of him as usual. Yet I get the feeling that The Fer won’t forget his altercation with PGMF and that things will never be the same. Rarely does anyone get along with PGMF like I do. He’s a competitive friend and can be threatening. I suppose I’ll cross the next bridge when I come to it. I really will be irked if I have to make excuses for one of them to the other in the future, though.

Last night The Fer yelled at me in his sleep. It wasn’t cool. I realized he was asleep, but he’d never raised his voice at me before, so it took me by surprise. I rolled over and said, “Jackass,” under my breath. He’d been snoring and I was trying to get him to lie on his side. He wasn’t cooperating, and really let me have it.

Tomorrow is my last appointment with my orthopedic surgeon. I think and hope he’s going to be pleased with my progress. My thighs are rock hard now. I mean rock fucking hard. I’ve worked my ass off, and I still have many months of training to go, but my knee has come a long way and I’m pleased with myself and my dedication. These past few days, in the bitter cold, it has hurt terribly. The other night I lay awake unable to snooze because of the joint pain. I suppose it will likely be with me for years to come. Tomorrow I intend to ask the doctor what the verdict on skiing next winter will be. I am prepared to hear a big fat, “No”.

Last night at 12:30am, Dobergirl began to bark more ferociously than I’ve ever heard her, and she continued for some time. Finally I crept downstairs, expecting there to be a prowler on the porch or picking the lock. And of course there wasn’t a human in sight. There was just a big doe standing placidly on the front lawn chewing on my parents’ magnolia sapling. Yesterday Dobergirl slept on the couch all day with me, and when she got up there was a big puddle where she’d leaked. Does anybody else have a leaky dog? Geesh. If you ever come to my house, don’t sit on the furniture.

If I could be anywhere right now, I'd plop myself on a red sand beach on an island in the Galapagos where I once played in the surf with sea lions. Just me, God, and the pinnipeds.

 

[Bambooki]

I just went to the restroom and realized that I put my underwear on inside out this morning.

 

[Bambooki]

Hello all. I’m back at work after a day spent in bed and the doctor’s office. I woke up and decided that if I couldn’t muster the energy to turn off my alarm clock, I probably should just throw in the towel and skip work in favor of the doctor. So I did. As usual, I’ve got a sinus infection, but he loaded me up with antibiotics and sent me back to bed. I felt immensely guilty about missing a second day this week, but most of the staff reported late because of the condition of the roads anyway. Boss Man teased me about my absence this morning; I was merely glad he didn’t give me a hard time.

Yesterday I talked to PGMF from the coziness of my bed. Apparently he’s come into a bit of money. A couple million bits, actually. Once his generous relative dies, PGMF will inherit the man’s entire estate, including real estate in Europe and a monstrous apartment in Manhattan. We’re talking three floors. Basically, PGMF will never have to work again, and can do with his life what he likes. Must be nice. I can honestly say I’m not jealous, but at the same time, I do wish I’d fall ass-backwards into millions of dollars too. Things like that don’t happen to ordinary people. PGMF is certainly not ordinary. Everything about him and his life is weirdly unique. I suppose this turn of events is anything but surprising, considering the type of world he lives in. I wonder what it would be like to get a phone call and hear that you’d just been named the recipient of more money than you’ll ever need. I’m sure I’ll never know.

The Fer, meanwhile, has been torturing the hell out of me. Almost every day now he comes home and gloats over how good his proposal plans are. He torments me by giving me little hints as to when it will be, then turns around and negates those hints. He’s talked about spending a lot more on a ring than I’d like him to. Neither of us is wealthy and I wish he wouldn’t go overboard. Having him is what’s important to me; not a big shiny rock. I’ve already got what I want. Yes, I adore diamonds. I admit it. But I’ve been through enough to know that a piece of expensive jewelry means absolutely nothing in the long run if you don’t have love and trust and commitment. I wore an engagement ring in the past and because there was no love behind it, it meant nothing. It’s just a thing. Either way, though, I know he probably will go overboard because he always does. It’s just his nature. I suppose I’m that way too; after all, you can’t take it with you. I try to spend my money wisely and save for a rainy day, but I also know that life is short and on my deathbed I’d rather have a pile of memories than a pile of money.

We rented “Once Upon A Time In Mexico” last night. I can honestly say I have no idea what happened in that movie, or what was going on at any time. Johnny Depp made it worth sitting through. I can’t stand Antonio Banderas. Drives me crazy.

This morning I noticed that my towel smelled like my old home in Florida. I’d put it in a closet and pulled it out the other day when all the others were dirty. For five minutes I stood there sniffing it. It made me homesick. A good friend just emailed to tell me he now lives in the same apartment complex where I lived my last two years of college. Again, homesick. I just miss it so much.

 

[Bambooki]

Another treacherous day on the roads to work. My car got me there safely, if slowly. Last night The Fer and I had a long, frightening ride home from his mom’s house on the interstate. The snow was coming down in droves. It was wicked. Unfortunately, not enough came down to keep me at home this morning. My warped sense of duty got me out of bed anyway. When I bought my SUV I lost the ability to rely on the “it’s too snowy” excuse. I have to at least try to make it in.

The Fer found me a photography workshop to participate in on our Valentine’s Day weekend in Maryland at Deep Creek Lake. We’ve booked a room with a hot tub at a B&B in the mountains, I’ve made some massage arrangements, and it turns out that a local photographer is conducting these sessions in the state parks. He’s been widely published in the magazines I only dream of having my work in, and is supposed to call me back this morning to take my reservation. I’m excited as all get out.

Mom just called. My brother’s trial is next Thursday and my father is refusing to go. He’s so angry at The Boy that he can’t bring himself to be there, and I think he also knows it will hurt The Boy’s feelings. I think it’s pretty mean to want to hurt your child that way, but I’m trying to be objective. Personally I don’t think my dad’s being much of a father right now, but I’m not a parent so I can’t put myself into his shoes. It’s going to be hard for my mom to sit in the court room and see her son sentenced to jail time, so that’s why I’m going with her. That, and the fact that she’ll get hopelessly lost in Morgantown without me, The Human Compass, to help her.

My father really makes me angry, and I’m trying so hard to try and understand how hard it must be for him. I can’t, though. I can’t help my anger any more than he can. I’m watching the father-son relationship crumble, and I wonder how many years the repair will take. And what effect it will have on my parents’ marriage. I think his attitude is shitty, and yet I fully acknowledge that I might handle the same situation someday in a similar or less respectable manner. If my kid was a fuck-up, I don’t know what I’d do with them.

I’m glad it’s the weekend. I only worked 3 days this week. This morning I’m looking through the completed planned giving files, reading wills of folks who’ve left the college money. It’s depressing me in a way I can’t quite put my finger on. I miss Pop. The cemetery is cold and frozen. And while I know he’s not there, my mind is too much tied to this world to comprehend where else he could be. Lately I’ve been thinking of him often, and part of me still doesn’t fully realize that he’s gone.

My stupid wall clock is totally fucked up. Either the battery is dying or it’s gone apeshit. It’s been ten of five for two days now.

 

[Bambooki]

Is it me or is my journal going downhill?

Another winter storm approaches, again with ice. I could shit kittens. It’s hard enough to get down to my car every morning without dislocating my kneecap again. The entire county is out of salt and ice-melter, and now more ice is on the way. Perhaps in today’s high of 37, things will soften a bit before the next blast. Speaking of ice, I fell through some yesterday. The Fer and my father and I took Dobergirl and two of his dogs to the woods and walked along a frozen creek. It was a beautiful, crisp day with bright blue sky. In most places, the ice was thick. I let my father walk first, since he’s got 50 pounds on me. Somehow, though, I still managed to find a weak spot, and went crashing through. The damage consisted of my boot filling up with icy mud. God bless thinsulate boots, though, because that cold mud stayed pretty warm and kept my foot comfortable. It was gross and squishy, though. Dad about had a heart attack when he heard me scream and came running. The Fer merely turned on his video camera. I caused a collapse a few yards long in the ice. Dobergirl wore herself completely out, and slept like a log for the rest of the day, which was the objective. However, last night she woke us on four different occasions, when groups of hoofed ungulates strolled through the yard. I went down, spanked her lightly, and shut the curtains. I guess she could still hear them, though, so the barking continued. At 5am I put her in her crate. The barking continued. Damn was I mad.

My knee was feeling okay until the hike. For the entire two miles, I was quietly terrified. The terrain was rough and icy, and in many places we fell through a foot of crust while walking along. I prayed and prayed for sturdy feet and sturdy kneecaps, and I made I through. Of late my knee has hurt much of the time, and I’ve been having flashbacks again, and horrible visions of tripping, or walking into the coffee table and popping it out. Little moments where these scenes run through my head have become so common that I see them hourly or more. Maybe it’s because of the knee pain of late. Maybe I really do still need to talk to a counselor about it. I haven’t told The Fer because I don’t want him to worry, but this has really been bothering me again. Sounding like a weenie is the last thing I want, but I’m so paralyzed by the thought of re-injuring it, especially in a place where I can’t get help. Sometimes I don’t even want to ski again. Sometimes I think I’ll hurt myself in my own home, away from a telephone, and lie there in agony for hours until I’m found. This can’t be normal, to be so horribly afraid and obsessed. I just cannot forget the pain. It was the worst thing I’ve ever lived through, and I don’t know if I’d have the strength to live through it again.

In other, lighter news, I whacked off my hair on Saturday. I was getting bored with myself and my look, and my hair needed a good chop anyway. I had her whack off 4.5 inches, and the amount of hair on the floor was appalling. I’ve got a shaggy do now; she cut it with a razor. My bangs, which were by my nose, are back at my brows, and the hair sits just above shoulder length. The Fer seems to dig it. I think.

The Boy showed up this weekend. And my father was nothing but nice to him. It drove me nuts. If the man is so deeply angry and disappointed in the kid, why does he pretend not to be? It’s two-faced. It’s like he’s afraid to alienate The Boy, so instead he displays his anger in subtle ways, like boycotting the trial. It reminds me of a relationship where one person is unhappy but is too chicken shit to tell the other person because they’re afraid their partner will leave them. So they tiptoe around it in a passive-aggressive way, taking cheap shots when they see an opening. I’m fuckin’ nauseated by the whole thing.

Still got this cold. Can’t shake it. It’s starting to drag me down.

 

[Bambooki]

The ice storm turned into rain. Bummer. I mean, I’m awfully glad that nobody is killing themselves on icy roads this morning, but it would have been nice to spend the day at home with The Fer in sweat pants. I think even the predicted snow has been predicted to arrive as rain. Oh well. At least it might melt the ice on my sidewalk. The layer of snow which was providing traction was washed away in the night, and now there’s a smooth layer of uneven ice everywhere. It’s horrible. I almost broke my neck this morning.

Last night my mother told me that my lower body looks a lot different. At work I noticed my favorite pants were tight in the thighs and rear. They fit fine in the waist, still. My thighs are no longer perfectly round. They’re sort of domed in the front; the quad muscle really has definition and tight pants accentuate it. Also, it seems like my butt has gotten bigger, because all of my pants fit so tightly in the back. But I think what’s actually happened is that it’s gotten rounder and is now a little more J-Lo-esque. It’s not giving in to gravity. For the first time in my entire life, I have muscle definition. Before I was just skinny. (And still am in my upper body; I haven’t even begun to work that yet. The knee comes first.) Now I actually have some visible hardness. I weighed myself and was heavier than normal by a few pounds. And I’m so hoping that it’s muscle. It just can’t be fat. I’ve cut out junk food for the most part, and I feel good and look a little better. It’s got to be muscle, right?

I’m fascinated by the Janet Jackson boob story. I can’t get enough of watching the debates on television. Personally I found the whole thing offensive and would have been very upset if I’d had children in the room. Wardrobe malfunction my ass. What trash it was. I agree that standards in this country have gone way down, and that MTV is one of the entities responsible for continuing to lower the bar. I hate MTV. I hate angry music. I don’t like reality shows and I’m embarrassed at the unimaginative nature of television these days. Sleaze is all over every network. Sex seems to drive entertainment. Whether or not tv reflects today’s attitudes or today’s attitudes reflect tv, it’s disappointing to see how we look at sex today. Nobody takes it seriously. I think it should be taken seriously. I certainly do. I wouldn’t want to be with a partner who didn’t.

Last night I fell into a very deep sleep on the couch at 7:30pm. It was like I was drugged. Today I almost didn’t make it out of bed. My body made it’s way to the shower by 7:05. Like Govt-man, I’m coughing things up and still fighting. Unlike Sugar, I’m popping antibiotics and hoping they do the trick. She’s right though; they have their negatives. The doc prescribed me penicillin, which I always take, and this cold is hanging on. Probably because I’ve taken the medicine so many times that it’s just not effective anymore. I can’t fight off sickness on my own, though. My immune system is lousy. Like my mother, I catch everything that comes along. Friends have always noticed that I’m a very sickly person. Something is always wrong with me. I received my mother’s crappy immuno defenses.

No. of deer I saw on the way to work: 18
Workout summary: cardio, obliques, leg press, leg extension, hams, abs
Outfit: sky blue sweater and blue and gray plaid pants
Hair: still lookin’ cute
Lunch: Spaghettio’s
Cash in wallet: $4
Favorite pen: missing, and I’m pissed off about it

 

[Bambooki]

Things I Feel Like Sharing With You

I’m a stickler for grammar and spelling. When I see a mistake in my journal that I can’t go back and correct, it makes me goofy.

My bedroom closet is an absolute disaster but I can’t bring myself to go through it. We’re talking piles three feet high.

I’ve got more clothing than any person I know and I still want more.

I spend $7 for a small bottle of special moisturizer at the drug store. It’s medicated. I’ve got bad winter itch.

I saw turkeys on the way home from work yesterday. For some reason they made me happy. Ducks make me even happier. I think I could have been an ornithologist if I was a little more scientific.

I am apathetic about cats. I could take them or leave them. They add little to my life except hair.

My orthopedic surgeon cancelled my appointment the other day. Now he cannot see me until March fucking 15th. That makes me mad.

I hate going to the grocery store. With a passion. I never do it, except to go and pick up one or two things. I refuse to go and buy a week’s worth of food at one time. I won’t do it.

My turtles have dirty water, my canary has a dirty cage floor, and my bunny needs her litter box changed. I’m a bad mother.

Last night I felt something in my right index finger, so I gnawed all the skin off and exposed the raw flesh. It feels terrible today.

The Boy’s trial is tomorrow. My father isn’t coming.

This morning I made myself a pot of Maxwell House Lite, with 50% the caffeine of regular coffee. I don’t know why I thought it would taste any different. I’ll never like coffee any more than I will alcohol.

I love the song “Barbie Girl”, by Aqua. Yeah, I’m ashamed, but it’s the truth. I jam to it in the car.

Since I was in high school my boobs have gotten bigger and my feet have gotten smaller. Is that possible?

I feel like the hair on my arms is too dark. Nobody has ever said anything, though.

BossMan has water from Sam’s Club in his office and he told me to help myself. I do, and sometimes I pour it into my bamboo plant when it needs filled up.

I think I’m the lesser one in my relationship. He’s a better person, works harder, is more forgiving and tolerant, and is generally going to go to Heaven a lot faster than I will when all is said and done. I think I was used to being the “good” person in past relationships and now I’m the selfish brat. Ouch.

I have no qualms about walking down the hallway with a tampon in my hand. It’s a fact of female existence. Sometimes I do a little ballet in the hall.

 

[Bambooki]

Apart

My little brother is on his way to jail right now.

Only for this weekend. And one more after this. But it still breaks my heart. They’ll put him in an orange jumpsuit and lock him up in a little room with a bunch of other miserable men, most probably serving time for a similar drunken incident. There’ll be wife-beaters and drug addicts and alcoholics and college kids. And my little brother. In there. With them. But, he is one of them. A drunken brawler. My little brother.

It was a long day. My father’s only participation was to send a sealed envelope down with us to give to The Boy. We knew it had to contain some stern, if not harsh, words. We “met” his lawyer. By “met”, I mean his lawyer came in and walked right past us. Didn’t shake any hands, didn’t introduce himself. Wore black pants and a black matte shirt with a shiny black tie. Black and white checkered sport coat, black leather trench coat, greasy hair with a bald spot, and a gut than hung down to his balls. He was a sheister. He was a slime bag. Didn’t even look at my mother. The prosecutor was even worse. A thirty-something with messy hair who continually cracked jokes and looked to us waiting for us to laugh. As if something was funny about the situation. The magistrate and the two attorneys spent most of the fifteen minutes telling jokes. The prosecutor kept us waiting for 40 minutes, as she was late. Then they told jokes and talked about weekend plans. The Boy sat in his suit with a haircut and a clean-shaven face looking grim. My mother looked equally grim.

He’d planned to serve the next two weekends, just to get it out of the way. At his announcement of this, his girlfriend burst into loud tears. She wanted to be with him for Valentine’s Day next weekend. He agreed to put off his second weekend of incarceration for her. The judge advised him that it was a good idea not to piss off his woman, and the lawyer crassly told him that once he was married, Valentine’s Day wouldn’t mean a damn thing anyway.

After “court” (and I put it in quotes because it was such a fucking mockery of the legal system), we took The Boy out to dinner. Mom was holding it together pretty well, despite a harried experience in Morgantown traffic at rush hour and getting the finger from a few passersby for some unknown reason. At dinner, The Boy braced himself and opened the letter from my father, expecting to have his dinner ruined. My father has been so angry with him, and refused to even help my mother drive him to the jail in the middle of West Virginia. He's basically washed his hands of his son.

It was just a paragraph or two, and it said,

"I find that in trying times, the following mantra helps me:
I can do all things
through Jesus Christ
who strengthens me.


Don’t forget your faith.
Love, Dad"

 

[Bambooki]

The Boy survived his weekend in jail. Actually, it was little more than 12 hours in jail. His lawyer, the dipshit of the century, was confused. He only has to be there on two dates per weekend, meaning he could arrive at 11:59pm on Friday night and leave Saturday morning. He said it was awful. The other inmates were nice to him, though a few were a bit scary in the not-all-mentally-there way. I asked him if it scared him into being good from now on. He said yes, but we’ll see what happens. He’s still got three more days to serve. On Sunday we took him to breakfast and he told us all about it.

My car crapped out after our hike with Dobergirl. I’m seriously irked about it. The 4wd has always had a problem; it turns on but I can’t get it out, even if the stick is in the 2wd position. Often is just turns off after a few minutes or when I stop at a traffic light, but this time it didn’t. I had to go home on the interstate in 4wd on a clear day, which probably tore the hell out of my vehicle. The rpm’s went up really high when I was accelerating out of a green light, and the whole car just felt weird. Also, the weirdest thing of all was on the interstate when the cruise control set itself. I didn’t turn on the cruise at all. It just turned itself on. This morning on the way to work I stopped to talk to my mechanic, and he said it sounds like the 4wd is screwy, a common problem. A new mechanism could cost me $800. Yikes. That’s going to cut into my Fer birthday money. I’ve made arrangements to dip into some savings for The Fer’s birthday present so that I can use what I’ve got to brace myself for the car repairs. We are supposed to go to the mountains of Maryland this weekend; I doubt they’ll be able to fix it before then. The car is fine, it just acts a little screwy sometimes with the 4wd. It’s something that needs to be fixed. I was so irked about it after our hike that I drank a beer. One beer, and I was toasted. One bottle. I’m a joke. That’s precisely why I never drink.

Tried on some engagement rings this weekend to give The Fer an idea of what looks good on me. We also spent quite a bit of time and money in Petsmart and Petco. I just love those stores. I love to shop for the critters.

 

[Bambooki]

Oy!

My mechanic just called. They've got my car today. Apparently that thing that's been acting up on the car hasn't acted up for the mechanic. At all. He sees no evidence whatsoever of anything wrong with my 4wd. I suppose that's good, but maybe it's not. How cliche is that? He said maybe a wire was loose or something.

I swore to him that I wasn't crazy.

 

[Bambooki]

A Letter to the Mechanic Who Thought It Appropriate to Say the Word "Nigger" To Me

Dear Uneducated Mechanic,

I came to your shop because your boss is the best in town and because he's a personal family friend. I know he would not condone your use of the word "nigger" in the presence of a female customer, nor would he condone its use around a male customer. I shudder to think what must have possessed you to use such an offensive and horrible word while I was writing my check.

You complain that this valley is economically depressed. That you only make $9 and hour and cannot support your family. You tell me that your wife left you and that child support is outrageous. But I know it's never occured to you that people like YOU are the reason that this is such a miserable place to live. Did you graduate high school? Did no one ever tell you that you are no better than anyone else in this world? Didn't anyone ever express their offense in your presence and bristle at your use of that word? Do you children refer to black people as such?

You told me that Cubans are just "niggers turned inside out". Well I've got a word to describe you: trash. White trash. You and the rest of the people who use the n-word are nothing more than trash in my book. Perhaps this would be a more tolerable place to live if you took your white trash attitude elsewhere. Perhaps I'm wasting my breath. I'm sure I am.

What god told you that you were better than others? Who gave you the right to say such intolerant things? I hope you and everyone else who has ever uttered the word "nigger" gets what they deserve and face the same intolerance. I hope everyone who has ever uttered the word "nigger" or expressed the attitude that white people are better gets themselves a better education. I don't care how you were raised. I don't care if your parents used the word. I don't care if you're from an intolerant region where everyone says it.

You're still trash.

For your sake, I hope Jesus was black. And if He was, I bet He forgave you before the word ever came out of your mouth.

Best of luck on educating yourself and joining society.
'Book

 

[Bambooki]

Wow! I just ate half a Clark bar, and just when all the peanut butter goo was concretely stuck to my molars, I began to get a pain. Whether it was a sensitive tooth pain or a cavity, I do not know, but I'm in hell. I'm just writing here a moment to get me through until the agony stops. There really is nothing like tooth pain, is there? It really makes you want to die.

I've got a pet peeve for y'all. When someone offers to do you a favor, and you politely decline, and they ask again, and you politely decline again, and they say, "Well, I offered." That drives me nuts. It's actually a pretty nasty thing to say. It basically means, "When you are up shit creek because you didn't accept my help don't blame me or come calling." It's like setting yourself up so you can't possibly be blamed for anything that might go wrong. I find it very offensive and insulting. I've gotten it three times in the last few months and it's bugging me.

 

[Bambooki]

Today is The Fer’s 31st birthday. And I have to say, I don’t think he’s all that pleased about it. I think he’s having a bit of a hard time of late with the over thirty thing. It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me, and he’s so far from “old” that it isn’t even funny. Some of our friends just had a baby, and that’s weird for both of us. Suddenly our friends are parents. It shakes up the world a little bit when that happens. Personally, I’ve never loved him more, and I’m really anxious to get this wedding thing in the works so we can move on to the next phase of our lives. (And so my car insurance will be cheaper!) (Priorities?)

This will be one of very few Valentine’s Days where I will not be single. I spent one with Louis Vuitton, who came through with the roses (dying) and teddy bear (the fur went up my nose for months). I spent two with The Ex, who got me absolutely nothing for Vdays or birthdays, but one year did give me a couple of Delmonico’s. Yeah, I got meat. But really, out of 24 Vdays, only one has been good, and that’s the one I spent with The Fer last year.

I still generally have an aversion to the holiday, though.

Alas, I am sans cash for any NYC travel. Saving money and vacation time for Bonaire. <sigh>

Last night while we were out, Dobergirl got a bag of Reeces Peanut Butter cups and ate the entire thing. Including the wrappers. Fortunately it was milk and not dark chocolate, and it was mostly peanut butter. I awoke expecting the worst to be all over my carpet. Surprisingly, it wasn’t. She must have an iron stomach, though she clearly didn’t feel too good last night. I was so mad. I’d bought them for The Fer to take to work. Last night I dreamt that I got into a fist fight at a veterinarian's office regarding The Apso's health. I was asked to leave, and some burly vet techs followed me. I hopped on a bicycle but couldn't pedal because I was wearing flip flops. That has to mean something.

My present to The Fer is a 55-gallon fishtank. We’ve become real fish nuts. We’re going to combine our two tanks together and then add some gouramis and platys and swordtails. And maybe some more guppies and neons because they breed like rabbits and it’s incredibly entertaining. I’m very excited about it. I'm also hoping to get a good deal, because this whole venture could end up costing almost $500. Good thing my car wasn't broken!

Did I mention that? Turns out that Nissan told my mechanic that in order to get it out of 4wd, I have to put it in reverse and back up for "just a few feet". It's actually more like 15, but it does work. How dumb is that? I've never heard of that. Most cars seem to just come out of 4wd on the fly like they're supposed to. Still, it's a cheap solution to an otherwise costly problem.

 

[Bambooki]

Well there’s just nothing like a meal at a Japanese steakhouse to drive your coworkers out of the room the next morning. Seriously. It’s a good thing BossMan had a lunch appointment. I’m a gassy disaster.

We had a lot of fun, though. Unfortunately we sat with 4 high schoolers who had an average age of 16, so that made The Fer feel even older. But I think he really enjoyed it. I certainly did. I can’t get enough of that shrimp sauce. The meal was totally faboo, and the dog liked the way we smelled when we came home, all covered in yummy smoke.

Tonight we leave for our weekend at the b&b in the Laurel Mountains. We’re scheduled for massages tomorrow morning, and my photography workshop in the afternoon. I can’t imagine we’ll do much else except eat and lie around relaxing. There’s a jacuzzi in the room so I won't want to get out until I’m an absolute prune. And since it's our own private jacuzzi, I can lie in there butt naked until the cows come home.

I hurt the same old spot in my back again, Monday, lifting boxes at work. Nobody else offered to help, and the only guy in the office was BossMan, who thinks I’m a whiner anyway. For the past three days I’ve been in agony. It took two months for this to heal last time. I just don’t know what to do about it. I suppose I need to see my doctor, and work on strengthening this muscle once it heals.

Every day this week at approximately 11:30am I’ve gotten an intense wave of nausea. I can’t figure out why, but it’s happened with absolute precision. The only thing I can figure is that it’s food-related. I have a bagel every morning around 9am after I’ve gotten an hour of work under my belt, so perhaps it’s bagel-related. Or metabolism-related, anyway. It seems to go away after ten or fifteen minutes.

Deb, your rant felt like it’d been penned by my hand. You’re right—we are twins. I’m thinking of you, girl. And hoping for the best.

Oh, mildly good news. We'd planned on going to buy The Fer's birthday fishtank next weekend. When I got home yesterday I found a flyer in the mail from our favorite Pittsburgh aquarium store announcing a blowout sale on tanks that very weekend. I can get a 55-gallon, with stand, hood, and light for only $200! Woohoo! That would normally be a $400 purchase. The gods are smiling on me, the fish nerd.

Time to get some food in me. I think I’ll walk over to Subway and get some tuna fish. I can tell my breath is still rank from last night’s garlic fest—why ruin a good thing?

 

[Bambooki]

I’d like to thank whoever sent me the Valentine via Cupid’s Helper. Truly, it made my day today, though I don’t really deserve it.

Had a wonderful weekend in the mountains. Our B&B was absolutely fantastic. It was a working farm, and the room had a king bed, a fireplace, tv, sofa, and Jacuzzi tub right by the fireplace and tv. I spent at least ¼ of the weekend in that tub. My back was really hurting when we arrived, and it was very helpful. The breakfasts were fantastic, and we met great people. The massages were much needed. Most importantly, the photography workshop was just wonderful. It was perhaps the smartest $100 I’ve ever spent. This guy was knowledgeable not just about photography, but about starting a business. I picked his brain, and he was more than forthcoming, and encouraged me to hound him via email with every little question and thought. I plan to.

The area had so much snow that we had to don snowshoes, which I’d never done before. The snow was up to mid-calf and was very crusty. It was a recipe for a broken ankle or popped knee, but the snowshoes allowed us to just float along and never break through the crust at all. The Fer had his video camera, as the guide was very knowledgeable about video as well as photography. We spent most of our time on our bellies on cold rocks photographing rushing water and icicles. I found fungi that I couldn’t take enough pictures of. And we talked about our future business. The Fer and I have been talking about creating some sort of joint venture for a few months now; he’d do video and I’d do the photography. The guide seemed to think it had the potential to be very lucrative. He said he’d put some of my work up on his site (free advertising!) if I sent it to him. I can’t tell you how worth it the venture was, and how much fun we had. Not to mention how much we learned. I’m very excited now, and am working on coming up with a name for my future business so I can at least have something to put on a business card. I plan to start marketing myself immediately. The Fer’s going to build me a website and e-store this summer. Meanwhile, I’ve got my photography class starting in March, so I have more to learn. This guide was almost entirely self-taught, which encouraged me. It doesn’t seem like I have to go back and get a master’s in photography to be a success. It’d be nice to spend that money on my business if more education wasn’t necessary.

Clearly, I’m all excited. I know it’s a long, frustrating, and arduous road, and that having my own business won’t always be a picnic. But in ten years I may just have something that I really enjoy and that makes enough money to allow me and my family to live comfortably.

That is, if I don’t suck.

 

[Bambooki]

I’ve begun to have photography dreams. It’s on the brain, clearly. Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re stressful. This morning I can’t remember the content, but I know they were good ones last night. I’ve got to get my film developed from this weekend’s excursion. And I’ve got to pick myself up some slide film. Time to make the switch. Using slide film will make me a better photographer because there’s no room for manipulation during development. The slide is the negative, essentially. What you snap is what you get.

Jerry Seinfeld is coming to our town for two shows. I love that show. It’s on 4-6 times per night, and I watch at least 3 episodes per night when I can. The first show is sold out and I was going to get tickets for the second, but I think it might be smarter to save my money. It’s something I’d like to see very much, but I think the tickets are pricey. The Fer would probably agree with me. He usually does.

I just called a rep for an online screening service and got all tongue-tied on her voice mail. I sounded like a total moron. How is it possible that when it comes to writing I can be eloquent and say exactly what I mean (well, maybe not here, but you should have seen my work in college) and yet when I’m speaking I sound like a dolt? I just have lousy verbal skills. The words come out too quickly and my tongue trips over them and I sound like a raving idiot. In order to sound halfway decent, I have to speak very slowly and think hard before I say my words.

Meanwhile, the family ferret has cancer. He’s really The Boy’s ferret, and The Boy is devastated. He’s the last of three ferrets to leave us. We’ll be having to put him to sleep pretty soon; he’s got a cancerous mass in his abdomen and he’s starting to have blood in his urine. Poor little guy. He still seems fairly energetic for an old ferret, but he’s lost most of his hair. Ferrets are such wonderful little creatures, but the problem is that most US ferrets come from Marshall Farms. They’ve been breeding their ferrets for over fifty years, and have come up with a very docile and sweet animal, but they had to inbreed them to achieve these even-tempered weasels. The result is that almost every ferret will have problems with his adrenal gland, and many will get cancer. My next ferret will come from a breeder, though my next ferret is a ways off. At the moment I’ve got enough critters to deal with.

 

[Bambooki]

Panic Attack

Holy shit, I'm nervous all of a sudden. Sometimes I'm so excited about being able to do what I love, and sometimes I'm terrified. What if I can't do this whole run-my-own business thing? What if I totally flop? What if I lose my shirt and all the money I've got to invest into my future? What if nobody wants to buy my pictures?

OY! This is frightening. I'm still almost a year away from quitting my current job and diving into the deep end of the pool, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I know, I know, talk to people who do know what they're doing. Read up on the subject. And prepare to have no idea and feel my way blindly. It's the best way to gain experience.

But I'm afraid! This is a completely new experience for me, and while it's still in the planning stages, it won't be for long. I have to get going, because I want to get going.

Hyper this afternoon. Nervous stomach. Jittery.