A fallen squirrel.

[Bambooki]

Let me tell you why I have a bad attitude.

After a wonderful Easter weekend with the two families, we came home to find that Dobergirl had eaten more than her fair share of the ferret food. Ferret food is greasy and designed to fatten up little critters.

There was vomit in the living room.

There was vomit in the hall.

There was vomit on the bedroom rug.

There was vomit on the bed.

The vomit soaked through the comforter.

The vomit soaked through the sheets.

The vomit soaked through the mattress pad.

The vomit soaked into the $1400 pillow top mattress.

The $1400 pillow top mattress is now stained. And stinky.

We put the brand new, perfectly matched, green comforter in the washing machine.

The washing machine shredded the brand new, perfectly matched, green comforter.

As I phoned my mother to ask where I could buy a new used washer, Dobergirl threw up again at my feet. On the carpet.

She threw up three more times in the kitchen. And five times on the sidewalk outside.

Then, the gas came. A green cloud followed her from room to room. She spent the night locked in the kitchen, and barked and howled fiercely to voice her displeasure.

It rained today. Photo class was cancelled. As I left I got a voice mail from my mother regarding my brother's cancer-stricken ferret. "Laura, it's 1:30pm. Can you come with me to the vet at 4pm to see if we need to put him to sleep?"

My phone doesn't work out in the country. She knows that. She didn't call me at work. I was away from my desk doing the office accounting. When I came hom in the rain she was standing in her garage holding a little cardboard casket and looking angrily at me. My father and brother were the ones who wanted to keep the ferret unfairly alive, and she's mad at me because now she'll take all the heat from them. She wanted an alibi who'd vouch for the fact that she was doing the right thing. She knew she was. I know she is. Fuck my father and his inability to do the right thing for a suffering animal. I told her I was at work and didn't get the voice mail, and then I had photo class. She gave me another irritated and angry look and said, "Oh well," in that sarcastic, irritated mother tone that all of our mothers use when they're pissed at us for the wrong reasons but don't care.

My house smells like barf today.

That's why I have a bad attitude.

---------------------------------------------------------------
In other news, I saw the other knee doctor today. He told me that I WILL ski again. I won't be jumping off cliffs or out of helicopters, and unfortunately I won't be skiing any more moguls, but I won't have to sell my skiis like my father told me I would. I wanted to kiss the doctor. He told me that my kneecaps track laterally, which isn't really correct, but he told me that it's the way God built me and that if I worked out two to three times a week and kept it strong, and NEVER kneeled and took it easy on stairs, that I'd be able to live relatively pain-free and would lessen my chances of dislocations. They're still elevated, but he was so very positive and made me feel wonderful. We were so excited that we came home at had a quickie. Now that's a lunch break.

 

[Bambooki]

DEPARTMENTAL MEMO from Laura:

I fucking hate this job. I FUCKING HATE IT. You've let your organization run into the ground, and now you want to change things. You're putting a bandaid on a bullet wound. Your organization is still bleeding! And quite frankly, this bandaid is getting sick and tired of soaking up blood. This bandaid is thinking about her next move, and calculating how much longer she has to stick to this revolting fleshwound.

In short, fuck you and your stinky job.

 

[Bambooki]

Today has just been one lovely ball of fucking fun. I was so upset all day at work. I just feel like I'm dumb at this, but it's because the other lady has done it for 7 years and I've been doing it for 7 days. I love her more than anything, and yet part of me is mad at her for quitting and leaving me with this burden, albeit a temporary one. I'm even angrier at those in charge of my department, because they've run us into the ground and still try to sqeeze blood from a stone. We're all hard workers, but we feel like failures because the work load is unreasonable and then we don't meet our goals.

I took --holy shit the front door just opened all by itself--an hour an a half of sick time at the end of the day to go to the ob/gyn for my annual PAP. When I got there, the waiting room was filled to the brim. 12 people were ahead of me. And then they announced that the gyn had been called off to a delivery, but that it would only be half an hour. Yeah right. I'm not upset that she had to go deliver a baby--that stuff happens. But half an hour my ass. It's childbirth, not an oil change.

So I had to reschedule for May. That's the soonest they can see me. It doesn't matter anyway, though. I could care less. Last year I had an abnormal PAP, but nobody seemed terribly concerned about it. My day has just been so shitty. It's rained buckets, and all of the creeks and the river are flooded.

I've stopped wanting to know the progress of the diamond search. It just upsets me in some weird way. I'll believe all of this is real when it actually happens. That may be in June for all I know. Until then, I'm tired of writing about it.

I'm waiting for The Fer to come pick me up. We're going to the gym.

I'm eating cheesecake while I wait.

 

[Bambooki]

My baby ferret has a prolasped anus. A fine end to today.

 

[Bambooki]

Prolapsed rectum.

Thankfully, no emergency surgery was required. They had me scared on the phone, but when I got there, a poo sampled revealed a parasite in Minky. Which of course causes bad poos, which is responsible for the prolapsed rectum.

Rectum!?!? Damn near killed 'em!

I took the entire morning off to make sure my ferret got immediate treatment. I don't think they liked it at work. But I don't give a shit.

 

[Bambooki]

They really don’t have any respect for me here. I truly don’t think that they do. Or at least, they don’t remember my participation in discussions. This morning was the secretary’s birthday. I brought a cake, because two weeks ago when The Boss Ladies asked for someone to volunteer to bring a cake, I stepped up. The secretary does the cakes for everyone else, so I’m happy to oblige. I bought a card, too. I paid $18 out of my own pocket, which is a little annoying but the secretary does it a lot, I think, for us. So I don’t really mind that much.

I get here, with the cake, and Boss Lady #1 has just sent Boss Lady #2 down the hill for donuts because they’d forgotten it was her birthday. And I went down there and said, “I was the one who was bringing the cake.” And she asked me why they didn’t know this, and I told them that I didn’t know, because we’d all discussed it in a staff meeting only a week or so ago. And she said something jokingly about Alzheimer’s and walked off. They can’t even remember their conversations with me. That’s how significant I am around here. Nobody listens to me unless I channel the idea through Boss Man (and then it’s a great idea), and nobody ever gives me any credit or puts stock in anything I say, any suggestion I make. They used the card they bought for her, too. My card will have to gather dust.

Fuckers. I deserve to be treated like an adult who’s competent and deserving of respect. Just because I’m the youngest one in the office doesn’t mean that I’m the most naïve or the least deserving of credit. I have good ideas too. They’ll never know, though. The only time they hear my ideas are when I pass them to Boss Man and he presents them to the Boss Ladies. Then, it’s a brilliant idea because it comes from him.

Fuckers.

Minky is doing well. She gobbled her medicine this morning. She’s still got a bad bum, an angry anus, a rotten rectum, but doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Coccidia is apparently the most common parasite in ferrets, especially babies. In other pet news, my last Neon Blue Dwarf Gourami died. I lost all three to what I think was Gourami disease. We’ve got two Opaline Gouramis that have done well, but I lost that first set of three Dwarfs last year, and now my Neon Blue trio. It’s a shame, because they’re about the most striking fish in the tank. I want some more Neons and Guppies, and more Gouramis, because I’m stubborn and refuse to give up on them.

Last night I had a dream that my brother was sentenced to life in jail. It was awful. In the dream I was hysterical, and when I woke up it took me 15 minutes to shake off the images. I’m still so worried about him. My mind keeps going back to his friend who died just before Christmas. That boy’s mom works next door to my house with my uncle, and on Monday she jumped off a bridge over the Ohio River. She lived, but it doesn’t sound like she wanted to.

It’s finally a gorgeous day. I have to pick up some black and white TMAX film and get cracking, so that I can have something to develop next Monday in the darkroom.

 

[Bambooki]

I’ve got a hum-dinger of a headache today. Woke up with it at 5am and took some ibuprofen. But it didn’t help much. I’m stumped as to where it has come from. Maybe all of the stress built up in my head. Today is our first day on our own, without the database manager. That’s right, I’m at the financial helm of this misguided ship for a while.

Last night I was going to go to the gym, because The Fer had a business function to attend. The doctor told me to work out three times a week, on average, and I had only gone in on Tuesday. But the rain finally ended and it was a perfect day, so I packed my gear and went over to the park and took pictures of ducks instead. It was late afternoon sun, which made for a warm color, and the light cast amazing shadows on the grass in a nearby cemetery. Cemeteries are great photo opportunities, at least in this part of the country. They harbor neat shapes and cool shadows if you go later in the day.

I found a little yellow duck who couldn’t have been very old. He was clearly an Easter present who’d been abandoned. He looked so tiny and had no other ducks to look after him. The only goose who lives at the pond had recently adopted two abandoned white ducklings, but they’re now of decent size and can fend for themselves alright. This little guy was just bite sized. And he wanted to follow the goose around but the other two ducklings tortured the hell out of him. So I made up my mind that I was bringing him home, because I couldn’t sleep knowing that he was out there with no mother and no way to defend himself. I tried to catch him, but he evaded me. Then I got distracted taking photos of some tulips, and while I was off, somebody caught him and took him to a vet. Thank God! I was so relieved, because a duck isn’t something that’s easy to keep. I would have let him go when he was month or two older, but I’m glad I didn’t have to go through the hassle. Not to mention what Dobergirl would have thought of him. She’s rough with the ferret, who’s tough enough to fight back and not get hurt.

I wish people wouldn’t give ducklings and bunnies as Easter presents to their children. Not unless they live on a farm or a lake, anyway. It’s irresponsible.

This weekend is supposed to be absolute perfection. Blue sky and mid- to high-seventies. I just called my uncle and asked if he could put the fishing boat on the lake this weekend. The Fer and I want to go out there and maybe spend the night, so it would be nice to have a way to go fishing around the lake and pull in some crappie or large-mouth or saugeye. Or even a stupid catfish, though I doubt they’re biting yet. Whatever does bite, if anything. I have a good time regardless, and Dobergirl is in her glory out there. I’m so glad it’s finally a decent weekend! Bring the wieners and light the campfire…I’m headed out to enjoy some nature.

 

[Bambooki]

I lost one of my beloved gold barbs this morning. Just about my favorite fish. It was just dead. I have no idea what happened. I'm really frustrated with how many fish we've lost in the last few months. Just when I think the community is thriving, somebody drops dead on me. What are we doing wrong? The tank seems healthy.

Saw a wood duck and a mandarin duck last night. Mandarin ducks are from China and Japan. I have no idea in the world how it ended up at the duck pond in our little burg. That's a long flight. It's an absolutely beautiful duck, though. As soon as I can I need to get a picture of it.

Last night at our girls' night out/farewell party for the database manager, we learned that the president of our institution isn't such a nice guy. At a staff council meeting, he actually made an anti-Jewish statement. Apparently the council members just sat in stunned silence. He tried to have the statement removed from the minutes, but it went to court and a judge ruled that the comment would stay. Un-fucking-believable. My opinion of the guy has just shot to hell. How ignorant.

Going up to shower now and get this day started. Hopefully we'll get the fishing boat in the water, if all goes well.

Minky is under the recliner I'm sitting in, chewing a pen.

 

[Bambooki]

Does anyone out there fish?

Because if you don’t, you’re not going to appreciate the significance of what I’m about to share with you. My weekend experience was like winning the lottery, but not quite as good.

Anybody out there familiar with muskies? Muskellunge? Relative of the pike, lives in warmer waters, i.e. our lake. Now, the Ohio state record for muskies every single year since the dawn of time has come from our lake. We get some huge mother humpers. And the size of their teeth is absolutely frightening. I read a few months ago that the odds of getting a muskie strike on your line are 1 in 10,000. That’s a strike, not actually reeling them into the boat. The odds of landing a muskie are 1 in 50,000.

So we had gorgeous weather this weekend. It was warm and sunny and absolutely beautiful. We towed the fishing boat out to the lake house and off we went, we being me and The Fer and my cousin. And we trolled and didn’t catch shit. We used leeches, too, which was absolutely revolting. I’ll bait my own hook with worms and minnows and shrimp and raw fish and any other disgusting thing you want to throw at me. But I draw the fucking line at leeches. They were in the bucket, all black and snakey, and when The Fer stuck his hand in there and grabbed one, it immediately latched onto his skin. I was repulsed. (And of course, being boys, they both tortured me with the leeches all day.) Anyway, we didn’t catch diddly. But since Sunday was an even better day, we went right back out, and this time used lures instead because we were fishing for crappie and not saugeye or large mouths.

And wouldn’t ya know it, I won the lottery. Not the 50,000 lottery. But I hooked one. And the only way I know this is because I brought him all the way up to the surface and got a good look at him before he decided he’d had enough and bit right through my line, taking my favorite pink jig with him. He was gorgeous, all orangy brown and shiny. I’d been fishing for crappie, and must have passed that jig right past his face and he took that thing lickety split. Now I only had 8 pound test on there or something, so even if he hadn’t used his teeth to slice right through that line, landing him would have been a challenge. And even if I’d landed him, we had no spreaders on the boat or means of getting the hook out of his mouth. Those teeth or like knives; you don’t get anywhere near a pike or muskie mouth. Of course this guy was little, only 18 inches or so, but that’s pretty damn big for me. Normally muskie lures are the size of your shoe. This was a little tiny jig. He must have been hungry. They come up into the shallows in the spring to feed. The rest of the year they lurk in the deep, cold parts of the lake. And they're the white whales of the lake. They're every fisherman's white whale, actually.

The boys wanted to throw me out of the boat.

We didn’t catch dick for the rest of the day. Nobody even had a strike after that. Our crappie dinner was ruined. (It was a crappy crappie dinner.) So we bought some tilapia and grilled that at home instead. It was a spectacular weekend though, and would have been even without my almost-muskie.

Here is a picture of a muskie I found online. With some dude. Who I don't know.

 

[Bambooki]

Deb, I’m so sorry to see you go. I’ll miss the Zoe stories and pictures. Take care of each other.

Last night I fell asleep a little after 8pm on the couch. I worked my tail off yesterday, doing various accounting things and getting myself very frustrated in the process. It was possibly the hardest my brain has worked in quite a few months. My job comes easily to me because I’m good at it. This other job requires me to learn as I go, and without someone to help me, that’s a difficult thing. At 10pm I woke up and dragged myself next door to let my mom’s dogs out before bed. My parents are at their condo on Ft. Myers Beach, so I’m responsible for the hounds.

On Monday, there was a triple murder in our little town, a town rated one of the safest 5 in the country by the FBI for the bazillionth time in a row this year. How horrifying is that? A family was killed in their home, each shot in the back of the head. There was no forced entry and no sign of struggle in the house. The father owned a coin and hobby shop, the mother was a nurse and adjunct professor at this college, and the son worked at the grocery store and bagged my groceries on occasion. I don’t remember him, but I bet I would if I saw his picture. I’m disturbed and frightened by that. While the manner of execution suggests something drug-related, no information has really been released. The community is shocked. And last night I was nervous walking over to their darkened, unlocked house to let the pups out. Logically, this is still one of America’s safest cities, and now the odds of anyone else being killed are even less (which is why I’m not afraid to swim after a shark attack—the odds are in my favor). But something like that really shakes you up. The news today suggests it may have been robbery-related. I was creeped out lying in bed last night, before The Fer came up. I really can’t even get my mind around it yet.

On a different note, we went to the gym last night. We were on the bikes pedaling away when a girl I went to high school with sat on the bike next to me. When I was in high school this girl was always very popular and always making out with her boyfriend in front of my locker. She was a bit of a ditz, and could never do anything wrong and was the queen bee of her clique. We went to pre-school together, but moved in different high school circles. We were casual acquaintances in high school, but I would rather have eaten moldy bread than spent time with her. She represented everything I detested about high school girls.

And the wonderful thing is that now none of it matters. That was ten years ago and now the people who seemed to have everything are just average adults now, and nobody ranks higher on any scale than the rest of us. The cliques all broke up and who was popular in high school means nothing whatsoever now. (And quite a few of them got fat.) And maybe it was wrong of me, but I ignored her completely. I see her at the gym almost every time we go. My father, I know, would tell me to say hi and reminisce about old times and be friendly. I have no vendetta against this girl; I wasn’t some tortured loser who was the object of ridicule. We were just ambivalent about one another. But it felt good to not care and to be on equal footing with this chick. I was there with my Fer (who’s first name is the same as this girl’s high school boyfriend who I hated), and damn if I just didn’t give two hoots or feel bad about being anti-social. Does any of that make sense?

I’m telling you, I wouldn’t go back to high school for all the money in the world. I had fun while I was there, but looking back, it had as much potential for emotional destruction as anything.

 

[Bambooki]

I really think I've had it. Today was the closest I've ever come to walking out of my job. Here I am, helping these people out of a jam because their database manager quit with only two weeks' notice, and the boss treats me like pond scum and navel lint. I was working on doing deposits today, and Boss Lady #1 told me to come to her with questions. So I did. And when I came to her, before I had even finished my question, she interrupted me and said in an irritated tone, "I have no idea where that is. I can't help you." And walked into her office. The afternoon consisted of a series of sarcastic replies peppered with a few helpful ones. At one point she sat down at my work station and said, "I really hate the way you have your screen set up." Well excuse me! God forbid that I should set up my computer desktop in a way that's convenient for me. Sor-ry! I sat there working for the entire afternoon biting my lip so that I wouldn't cry. And normally I'm pretty damn good at handling stress and not obsessing over things. But this lady is just plain rude and disrespectful towards me and the other employees. What gives her the right to be that way? First of all, she may be the boss, but we're no less important than she is. (Or are we?) We do just as much work as she does. Secondly, she doesn't sign my paycheck. The state of West Virginia does. And quite frankly, even if the previous two points were untrue, I still KNOW that I deserve respect and consideration and politeness. I don't deserve rudeness. Nobody does. I'm not rude to her or towards anyone else in that office. I have never been and I never will be. EVER. My parents didn't raise me that way.

So I'm really thinking about putting in my resignation at the end of the summer. I'd be giving up a decent living, but what good is money if I hate my job and get no respect? Pretty soon I expect I'll start sending out resumes to local photographers and try to get a part-time job. Or even ones to any part time job. I'd make less money by a lot, but it would be okay. I deserve better than what she gave me today. Plain and simple.

The funny thing is, at one point she walked past me and rubbed my shoulders in a motherly way and was so nice and sweet at the end of the day. Not that I felt any better. She's just naturally a slave to her moods and doesn't know how to hold her tongue. I'm sure she does indeed like me and appreciate me, but she certainly doesn't act like it. And in the end, what good is it if she doesn't show me those things?

People, what should I do? I have to stay there until they hire somebody. I cannot just up and quit. My father represents anonymous donors who fund half the positions in our office, so it would be very uncomfortable for him if I rocked the boat. I wouldn't do that anyway. But really, should I stay another year and take it up the ass and make money, or should I tell them that in a few months I'll be looking for other employment and work towards what I really want to do? I'm really asking for anyone's honest opinion here. I'm at a stumbling block. I know what bad days feel like, and this is one of them, but it brings to light the greater feelings I have regarding my job. I like it less every month.

What do I do?

 

[Bambooki]

It’s morning and I’m still really pissed off at my boss, and the work situation in general. As many bad days as I’ve had here, I’ve never really let it follow me home. I’ve never really sat in my home in the evening and dreaded going to work the next day. I’ve never hated my job. I did last night, though.

I still don’t think I really hate it. But I do know that I can do better and that I deserve better. This morning a co-worker told me that it looks like he’ll be taking over for Boss Lady #2, who’s moved to part-time work. I love this guy, and I hope and pray that he’ll make this a better place to be. He can’t really shield us from Boss Lady #1 entirely, but maybe he could make this a more tolerable environment. I will stay until I see how he does in that position. I will not stay more than another year, and probably not past this fall. My mind is fairly well made up.

I’m really excited about starting my photo business. It’s what I really want to do with my life, and if I wait too much longer, I’ll regret it. This job provides me with a steady income and benefits, but it doesn’t make me happy or fill that empty spot inside where doing what I love to do is supposed to fit. If I fail in the photography business, I fail. But I have to try, and I have to try soon. Money’s not really a problem; I’ve got enough to get me by and the ability to work part-time to keep it coming in.

Things tend to work out for the best. I am not going to stay here much longer, and I have faith that I’ll be successful in my next endeavor. Failure just isn’t an option. Besides, I have The Fer to help me.

God bless the man. He’s having a really shitty time at work, too. He’s doing his very best to be supportive of me while juggling his own set of knives. I don’t know what I would do without him.

Last night I scrubbed out the shower in my underwear. It was really gross. Not so much moldy as it was orange. I don’t know what the orange was. Maybe soap residue or something. I bleached it, then Comet’d it, then Tilex’d it. I’m terrible about cleaning. I hate doing it. I’m messy. I’m a slob. My dad will be the first to tell you that. He always tells The Fer that I’m a pig. My house doesn’t usually look too messy, but when you get up close, it really is.

Today I’m staying up in my own office. Fuck doing the other job. Boss Man is out of town and I’m not going down there to work on the finances if Boss Lady is down there. I need a day to recover.

Oh God! By the way, we saw a picture of one of the suspects they caught in the triple murder. THE FER KNOWS HIM!

 

[Bambooki]

I haven't cooled off even one bit. If anything, I'm even angrier than I was yesterday. This is a different kind of anger though, and I realized about three an a half minutes ago that it's because I lost my respect for Boss Lady #1 yesterday. I really respected her at first, and even until recently. She does do an amazing job. But I just don't respect her any longer.

Now the question is, if I don't respect the person I work for, can I respect myself?

And another: Is money and stability worth more than self-respect and contentment in my daily life?

Like I've said, I'm not walking out the door tomorrow. In a few months. Not today. I'm disappointed in the management here. I thought of them as friends. They thought of me as worker bee. We're a small group. We should be supportive of each other. Those of us who are underlings generally are very good to each other. But there's a gap. And I just can't live with that gap.

WWSSD

What would Sugar Snit do????

 

[Bambooki]

Sehra, thank you.

I haven’t formed a response yet, or even fully processed what you wrote (I’ve only been here an hour and it’s rainy and dark outside and my eyelids are really heavy), but thank you so much for spending so many paragraphs on my problem.

You’re a good friend.

Meanwhile, I did mention to Boss Man that Boss Lady #1 had been fairly disrespectful and impolite with me, and he told me that she was “burning the midnight oil”. I don’t hold that against her. Today I’m not so angry. I’ve cooled off a bit. But now that the anger has burned away, I’m left feeling ready to leave and start a new chapter in my career and I’m ready to do something I think I’ll be both happy and content with.

Sehra raised a good point. For some people, making money does equal contentment. For me, that’s not the case. And that may be because I’ve never struggled financially. Maybe if I had, it would be more important. I haven’t really known that. I work hard anyway, though. Earning money means a lot to me and has given me a new kind of confidence I didn’t have before I was on my own. Then again, maybe ignorance is bliss. Maybe I should be afraid to be poor, but I’m far more afraid to be unhappy.

I think The Fer will be infinitely successful in his field. He’s very very talented. I think we’ll pinch our pennies at first, like we do now, and then I think we’ll have a really nice, comfortable, middle-class lifestyle. I think we’ll be carbon copies of my parents, actually. (Oh God. How frightening.) So between the two of us, there should be enough green to go around.

Mine might be a little while in coming, though.

Last night I dyed my hair red. Just with semi-permanent color. My mother is going to hate it, I think. I used to dye my hair a burgundy color, which she hated too. I like it though. I think I’m…what was that phrase? The bees knees. The cat’s meow. The whale’s tail.

By the way, Sehra…if you jump, I’ll jump with ya.

 

[Bambooki]

After all of the worrying and difficulty and fear, getting a call from my little brother still makes me so happy. He just called to tell me he's coming home this weekend, and I told him about my muskie, and he was very excited about it. I'm just glowing now and very happy to get to go fishing with him tomorrow.

How goofy is that? I'm just a smiling idiot after one phone call from that kid. What a strange thing.

 

[Bambooki]

I'm glad I savored my warm fuzzies while I could.

When I got home after an evening in PA with my cousin and The Fer, there were two urgent messages from my parents in Florida. I thought for sure that one of my grandparents was dead. Instead, my father called to ask me what was going on with The Boy, and that The Boy's professor had called him in Florida to inform him of a new situation. Apparently, The Boy got into a drunken fist fight and then broke into his girlfriend's dorm. Naturally there are details, and it turns out that The Boy was just defending his girlfriend when he punched this drunken kid. And he broke into the dorm because he hates his roommate and didn't have anywhere else to sleep.

But of course alcohol was involved. It always is. That kid is going to ruin his life if he doesn't stop drinking, and quite frankly I don't think he can stop. I love him so much, more than anything in the world, and talking to him tonight I wanted to believe that it was all an accident and that he wasn't really that drunk and that he'd been working hard to change. There are so many more important details that I should add to give you the big picture, but I feel too broken and need to sleep. The Fer is over talking to him right now.

But I've been down this road before. I know where it ends up. My heart is so sad.

 

[Bambooki]

Huskie Muskie

3:30 pm. Saturday, April 24th. 2004. Bass fishing.

The Fer's got an ultra-light pole, a 4-footer. Very small. On this pole is six-pound-test line. That means it can hold six pounds of pressure from a fish.

He casts toward the shore. A fish is on.

My Fer caught a muskie!

On six-pound-test. With an ultralight pole. And he hooked this fish through it's dorsal fin.

It's dorsal fin!

Remember how my odds of getting a strike were one in 10,000? The odds of landing a muskie are 1 in 50,000. Can someone please calculate what the odds of hooking a muskie through it's dorsal fin and landing it with an ultralite and six freaking pound test line?

They've got to be one in ten million. I shit you not.

After half an hour, we got him into the boat. A passing boat lent us their net. The fish was so heavy that he broke the net. Not the string part. The metal frame bent!

He weighed in at 24 pounds, 46 and 3/4 inches. He officially qualifies The Fer for an Ohio Huskie Muskie award.

And wouldn't ya know it, the god damned marina was closed. Nobody to take down the stats, take pictures, or officiate. (I forgot my fucking camera!)

More importantly, we had this slowly-dying fish in the boat (I was keeping him wet), and we needed a cooler and ice because The Fer decided that this big boy was going on our wall. I felt terrible for letting a fish of that size and age (probably 10 years) die, but I have to admit, I'd have probably done it too. It was the most beautiful fish and I was so sad to see it die. It was such a shame. He had some scars on him from what must have been other fights with fishermen in the past. The fish was mother fucking huge. HUGE. And the teeth on that fish I've never seen the likes of before. Both The Fer and my cousin cut themselves on his teeth. We're talking half an inch long. Barracuda-mouth.

Thankfully the marina staff was still there, even though they were closed. They loaned us a gigantic cooler and let us help ourselves to ice. We got him back to the cabin. I called all of the taxidermists back in town, and found one out in the hills who would take the fish. So by August or September, "Jaws" will be on our wall.

We went out for hot wings to celebrate. I'm still sad when I think about him dying, but I'm so excited for The Fer, because that's a once in a lifetime fish. Literally.

============================
Meanwhile, The Fer had a chat with The Boy. Turns out The Boy is mixing prescription pills with alcohol. That's what's causing his aggression. This is deadly serious. My parents are still in Florida, but it looks like rehab is the only option. Assuming we can get him to go. It's a miracle that kid isn't dead yet. He's got a gash on his side from a bar fight. He's got beat-up knuckles from other fights.

My dad has given up on him. If it weren't for this muskie, I think I'd be depressed.

 

[Bambooki]

I can't believe how god-awfully my brother has fucked up his life.

My father's totally given up on him. They called yesterday from Florida to confront him (which I think was a mistake) and he hung up on them and then hit the road. I'm assuming he went back to WVU but I'm not positive. They didn't even mention anything about rehab or detox. If they had he probably would be in Canada by now.

Mixing prescription drugs and alcohol (he told The Fer that it's Xanax) is like playing with fire. The wrong combination can kill you. His friend died of a deadly mix just 5 months ago, yet he doesn't see the similarity. It's frightening. I'm not at work today because I just cannot handle a Monday morning in that miserable place. The weekend was so good, and yet so bad. We fished again yesterday, and The Fer caught a big fat largemouth, but my fish jumped off the hook in mid-air before I got him in the boat. And I broke my fucking pole. So we had to stop and buy new poles for me on the way home. My new ultra-lite is an Ugly Stick. I got a heavier pole too. And some new grubs.

I digress. I'm really agitated today. My parents aren't here, The Boy is furious at all of us (big deal), and we have no idea when we'll see him again. (And when we do, if he'll be on a morgue table.)

When my parents confronted him he became furious. It's such typical behavior of a drug abuser. I'm not sure if he uses every day, or if it's a casual or party thing. It's enough, though. I'm scared to death for him. This entry isn't even making any sense because I just can't focus. Oh, in addition, on Saturday night after the big muskie day and dinner with The Boy and his girlfriend and my cousin, I went to bed. The Fer was completely exhausted and as he was getting ready to join me, the phone rang. The Boy had hit my mom's oldest dog with the Land Cruiser (which is a big-ass car) and so they had to rush him down to the emergency vet at 1am. The poor Fer wore my shoes so he wouldn't have to come into the bedroom and wake me up. I had no idea because I was sleeping, but he and The Boy and The Girl and the dog were down there until almost 3am. And the best part was that The Boy was going to drive my mom's car down there with no license and no car insurance. Really smart, kid.

God. It's enough to make me want to sterilize myself.

I'm going to go price out some digital cameras today. I need a serious distraction. When my parents come home it's going to be a big re-hasing of everything unpleasant.

 

[Bambooki]

Back at work today, and I hate it. As I woke up to my alarm, I hated it. As I drove the winding road to my office, I hated it. As I walked in the door, I hated it. But none so much as when I sat down at my desk and read my emails and got an 8:02am assignment from Boss Man on top of the obnoxious email from Former Boss Lady #2. (She's not a boss anymore but judging by the content of the email and the nature of the request, she certainly thinks she still is.) In short, I no longer want to be here. And every day will be a struggle until I do something about that.

My mom has already poo poo'd the idea, twice. "Save your money." She's like a parrot. They both are. "Work hard. Earn money. Be sensible."

I could just kill them. It's not their life. It's not their unhappiness. I guarantee that if they were unhappy with some aspect of their life that was fixable, they'd do something about it. That's the freedom of being an adult. That's the freedom I've got and I don't intend to waste it. They'd rather me stay somewhere stable. They don't realize the depth of this dissatisfaction, nor do they realize how determined I am to succeed in the photography business. And if this move leads me to something even more unexpected, so much the better.

But I expect to face some discouragement and negativity and I expect to be treated like a 12-year-old who cannot make her own decisions and who isn't familiar with the concept of facing consequences of her actions. I expect that. And it makes me really angry.

As if we didn't have enough problems right now. As if there wasn't enough animosity in my family at the moment.

No word from The Boy. I sure hope he's at school today. And not in Canada. I sure hope he's sober. And safe.

Bought a $1300 digital SLR yesterday. A professional camera, very high quality. Sven megapixels. (Thank God for financing!) Time to join the digital revolution. Developing film is getting pricey. Pricier than I can afford. Besides, if I don't jump on the technology bandwagon, it's probably going to run me over. I still love traditional SLR cameras, though. Last night we learned the printing process. Hopefully this week I'll get a chance to go over do some damage in the dark room. (Hopefully not to myself, but it's been known to happen.)

 

[Bambooki]

Boss Man, and the two Boss Ladies must die.

The rest of you may live.

I'm going to lie under my desk now. Cramps.

Deb, I miss ya. Thanks for the pm. It was an after-lunch pick me up. Needed it.