PEOPLE OF THE YEAR!
Did you see???? ABC News has named us PEOPLE OF THE YEAR!!! US!!! BLOGGERS!!! YOU!! ME!!! WE’RE THE PEOPLE. OF. THE. YEAR!!! But WE sooooo knew that already! Matter of fact, it was probably a blogger who broke the story.
Okay, enough of the bragging stuff. Happy New Year’s Eve everyone. Christmas is finally over. The boys (Nate, J1 and J2) were thrilled with their medicine pouches, my sister-in-law seemed very pleased with her jewelry and everyone else seemed pleased as well. My nephews kept it to a low jet engine roar, except J2 at the dinner table. He let a fart and then refused to apologize or excuse himself and then his mom actually disciplined him for his rudeness….so… oh well, can’t have it all.
I got a new scanner!!! Yay!!! See picture below. Yes, its of me. Just a little bit younger me. No, don’t scroll down. Geez! Where’s your patience?
The nabes have left to bring in the New Year with their friends and I’m here “in case TLC needs me.” No, what he needs is at least one parent who gives a shit about him. Pfftt! Anyway…
My dad took the boys out this afternoon, my mom cleaned the kitchen, my brother went to Wal-Mart, my SIL was getting ready to go out this evening… and that left me and Annie. Hee hee. We got some seriously cool play time in. She is so beautiful. Yes, I’m bragging, shut up. Her new hair is coming in and its RED! Whoo hooo!! My brother has red hair. Even her little eyebrows are red. My gift from them were framed photographs of the kids. They are really nice. I can’t wait to get my shit together and get them on the wall with the rest of the family.
The ‘rents also got me a grill, not George Foreman, but same concept. So, I got what I wanted, except sleep and beer. That’s coming. Its been unseasonably warm!! 55 damn degrees (next week I’ll bitch about the cold). I’m bitching because… my beer is on the porch and it got warm and Nanna don’t drink no warm beer… so now its in the freezer.
I have assembled most of my “Best of Blogger” post. I still have a few archives to search, okay, more than a few so it may be delayed a bit. I’ve tried to include everyone, which is good but not good. If you’re not on the list (Vicki, Seven…) its because your archives are not real extensive yet. It could also be because I’m just fucking lazy. Guess you’ll never know. Then again, I might get a wild hair and include you anyway. Everyone can bitch at you if it takes me longer.
Oh, got another gift from a most marvelous, wonderful person who knows who they are!!! (Zelda) I am SOOO LOVED!!! A cat coaster and a cat coffee pot with its own cup and tea!!! I was so wonderfully surprised!!
Okay, now the serious stuff.
My friends, it has been a year of great change for me. Anyone who has read me for a while knows that. As the minutes tick down to 2005, I have a lot to be thankful for. And because I love you so… I have a few wishes for you.
May your beer always be cold.
May Blogger never eat another post.
May your pipes not freeze nor your air conditioners stop cooling.
May your toilets not run over.
May you never run out of gas.
May you find $20 in that pair of pants you haven’t worn for a long time.
May you dodge the hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, earthquakes, forest fires, and even a freak tsunami.
May you always have someone to laugh with, a shoulder to cry on, a warm hug and a soft kiss.
May you be blessed with health and wealth and most of all happiness.
Thank you for sharing your lives with me and thank you for letting me share mine with you.
Happy New Year Blogosphere!!!
Glutton For Punishment
I went to T-Bird’s yesterday evening to drop off a DVD she wanted to borrow. I had to hear how J. has outgrown all of Nate’s clothes (his size 5’s I’m assuming, since when he went into 6’s he started wearing slims, which J. cannot) but then I looked at the tag on the shirt he was wearing (8/10) and it was at least three inches too long in the sleeve and drooped a good 2 ½ inches on the shoulder seam. Now, you can’t tell me the kid wouldn’t have looked better in a 6/7. I have no idea why she does this shit. Its the most fucking annoying crap.
Then I had to listen to how J. is only five, yet he can sit and watch Lord of the Rings. I told her that Nate could watch Lord of the Rings at six, which is I believe when the first one came out on video… summer of 2002?? She said, “No, I believe he was 6 ½.” No bitch! That’s how old he was when he went to THE THEATER to see The Two Towers. All two hours and 55 minutes of it!!! And who the fuck cares????? (Nate went on Adderall the Fall/Winter of 2002)
Look, when we went to see “Star Wars – The Phantom Menace” in 1999, we left right around the pod racing scene. That’s how bad Nate was. And it was torture sitting there that long. True, he was three years old but still had no capacity to sit for over 15 minutes. This is why we didn’t go to see The Fellowship of the Ring and I waited until it came out on video.
When I look back on the torturous scenes of our life (any type of church service, movies etc.) I am reminded of how far Nate has come. I had serious, serious doubts about taking him to see The Two Towers. I knew it would be excruciatingly long for an ADHD child, regardless of what was going on up on the screen. I knew the theater would be crowded making the likelihood of him disturbing another patron a distinct possibility.
Love his heart. He sat through that whole thing… the last 30 minutes holding out the urge to go to the bathroom. I told him I would go with him and he said, “No, Mom. I am staying and watching the WHOLE movie.” All righty then!
And then he sat through “Pirates of the Carribean,” and then “Return of the King.” Nate is the kind of kid at home, that doesn’t actually sit and watch the movie, he has his swords out (different ones of course for LOTR and POTC) and acts out the movie as its playing. (Of course, I would never do that… ahem) It’s a good thing he can’t shoot webbing out of his wrists either.
However, I don’t feel a desire to bring that up all the time. I don’t feel the need to point out the things that I know he did before J. did… like walk. I don’t feel the need to compare an apple to an orange. I think its just fine to share the experiences you have with your children, anecdote for anecdote. Like the time Nate called his dad a bitch. We all have a story of verbal slip-ups of our kids. The problem is, with T-Bird, it becomes a game of one-upmanship, something I refuse to participate in.
If I’m on the phone, I roll my eyes and try to think of something I have to do so I can worm out of it. If its in person, I do try to hide my displeasure but not all the time. It just ruins the entire time for me, because when she starts she doesn’t shut up. Remember the little boy and his mother at bowling? How she said that her son was really close to Nate in scoring even though he wasn’t using the bumpers? Yeah, that’s a friend of T-Birds.
I do try to brag on Nate in his presence, not so much so as to embarrass him or anything but I want him to know that I’m proud enough of him to call my friends and his grandparents and tell them he made the B Honor Roll. He’s worked very hard for that. If I could even begin to explain how absolutely horrible, terrible and disheartening his first years in school were, you would understand what a huge accomplishment it is for him to do this.
It seems as though someone who has been in my life as long as she has would realize this too. Yet, its “Oh, how great! Now, J. ‘s teacher said … blah, blah, blah.” I’ve got to the point where I just don’t care about her anymore. I’ve told her before, when we’ve fussed and she’s wondered why I haven’t come around, that she’s self-centered. She calls me to talk AT me, not with me. She calls to tell me what going on in HER life… not find out anything about mine. Or she calls because she wants something. Plain and simple. After I told her how self-centered she was, she actually improved and we had some really meaningful conversations and our friendship took a different turn.
But, here we go again. Its sad because I love J. very much. I love T-Bird too, and the rest of her family. But its gotten to the point when she says J.’s name, I just cringe because I know what’s coming. And frankly, I was two hairs-breadth away from calling her in to Child Protective Services over him this past summer.
She wanted to yell at him and bitch and moan about how horrible he was and I told her, finally, that he was only reacting to his environment and that environment was unhealthy and yes, I meant her. I know, realize and admit that some of Nate’s shortcomings are no one’s fault but my own. I realize that yelling at him is no better than hitting him. By losing my temper instead of examining exactly why I’m upset, is my fault and to build a better kid, you have to build a better parent.
I digress. I hate feeling this way about someone. I hate cringing when the phone rings and her number comes up. I hate not answering the phone because I don’t want to listen to the shit. And really, I don’t have the time, inclination nor energy to hash out her self-centeredness again. Its part of her personality, either I accept it or I don’t. Either I deal with it, or I leave it.
Eh, this sucks. I’ll bury this later. Just had to get it off my chest, again.
T-Bird vs. Kansas City
Jeeezus Keee Riiiizzt… I’m bad. I think bad things. I’m so bad.
T-Bird hasn’t had a phone for a good long while… unless she uses her neighbor’s phone. Such a fucking blessing. Now, she has a phone. Goddamn it to hell and back. Here is one of our typical conversations.
*What I’m thinking*
I: Hey. Fuck!
T: Hey. What are you doin’?
I: I just walked in the door 2 nanoseconds ago. What? Were you watching for me?
T: Blah, blah, blah… (20 minutes) Oh and J., he just can’t wear those pants anymore. They are too snug on him. He likes his clothes loose.
I: Uh huh. I think his mother likes to think he’s the tallest biggest five year old that ever walked the planet.
T: We have to get one of the cars fixed because the truck doesn’t have any heat and J. just can’t ride around in a cold vehicle. You remember how sick he was last year with the flu? He didn’t move for three days. You know that’s just not like him.
I: Uh huh. Goddamnit I KNOW, since you’ve told me twenty fucking times since last year.
T: So, I told the Ex-hubby that he’s just going to have to get that heater fixed because J. has to be bundles against the cold. He just can’t get the flu again this year.
I: I don’t worry about shit like that. Colds and flu are caused by bacteria and viruses not being cold.
T: Oh, well, I know.
I: Then why the fuck do you insist on continuing with the coat, mittens, toboggan, snow suit, blanket routine? Nate walks around in a jacket flapping open 99% of the time, hell, the brat still runs next door barefoot in 30 degree weather. HE didn’t have the fucking flu last year! Not even a fucking cold. Oh, I’m gonna pay for that
T: So, its going to cost $550 to fix my car. Do you think I should?
I: Ummmm… If you want to drive anywhere!
T: We don’t know how much its going to cost to fix Ex-hubby’s truck but he needs brakes pad, calipers and tires. But my car needs seals (yada, yada).
I: Fix the one that will cost the least amount of money to have the safest vehicle. Duh!
T: Well, he is going to need new tires and they’re going to cost more for the Blazer.
I: Then get used tires until you can afford better and stop trying to get me to say that YOUR car is the one that should be fixed because even though YOU’RE not working and the ex-hubby is supporting you.
T: Well, he has to get the heater fixed too.
I: So is it the heater itself or the blower?
T: Its the blower.
I: Same thing happened to my old car. The guy at (place) put a toggle switch on for 15 bucks or so.
T: Well, D. said he would put a switch on it for us. Then what the fuck are you making such a big goddamn deal out of it for. Again, I’m not going to say that your car needs fixed so you can run around while your ex works.
T: Well, I can’t take J. to preschool. I don’t give a shit. Take him to the one down the street that you can walk to instead of the one 15 miles away.
I: Nate had a doctor’s appointment. He’s grown an inch and a half since June and gained a pound. He’s up to 56 now.
T: Ha! Well J. weighs 51. He’s in the top percentile for his age group. Yes, I know.
I: I’m just glad Nate gained some weight along with the height. His pounds are hard fought. What I can’t understand is if he grew that much but didn’t gain that much then how are his pants getting tight?
T: Oh, I know, J. just can’t fit into a thing, I’m going to have to go to 7’s, they are a little big on him (a lot), but he just doesn’t like tight clothes.
I: Then buy him husky size.
T: Oh, well, I don’t think they start making husky until size 8.
I: I wouldn’t know.
T: I told my brother that J. would just run circles around his three girls and he didn’t believe me until he saw it for himself. I know!! This has GOT to be the 100th time you have told me this for cripes sake. When not on medication, my son can run circles around ALL FOUR!
T: Well, I told ex-hubby he needed to get heat in his truck because J. just can’t ride in there and it as cold as it is. I can’t afford for him to be a sick as he was last year. You know he didn’t move for three days. That is SOOOO not my son. You know how active he is. He can run circles around my nieces. I just can’t find a thing to fit him and he’s growing out of his shoes every three months (goddamn, he should wear a fucking 13 men’s shoe by now) And you KNOW the only reason he isn’t in Kindergarten this year is because he didn’t like the guy who gave the test for Kindergarten placement. I KNOW!!! And he knows his numbers to ten in Spanish. No shit, so does the little girl at the end of my block, oh wait, she speaks Spanish fluently and so do her brothers, ages 3 and 5.
I: Yeah, I think that’s pretty standard in preschool now. I know Nate learned that in preschool.
T: Well, J.’s teacher said he really needs to be in Kindergarten but you know he didn’t do well on the test because he didn’t fucking like the dude who gave him the test.. Goddamn it yes I know that!
And people wonder why I’m flying to Kansas City to meet my blogger friends instead of driving a mile down the road to see T-Bird.
Gloating Will Get You Nowhere
gloat (from Dictionary.com)
n : malicious satisfaction v 1: dwell on with satisfaction 2: gaze at or think about something with great self-satisfaction, gratification, or joy
*Conscience*
**Sixth Sense**
So now Lex is trying to worm his way back in… sort of.
*Are you gloating?*
Yes, I am gloating, thank you very much.
*Tsk, tsk. Bad girl. Gloating will get you nowhere.*
But a feeling of great satisfaction to know that my prediction that he would miss me has come to pass.
*So what makes you think that?*
Because he told me he wanted to hang out with me.
*And?*
“And” what? He said it, not me. He’s the one who brought it up, not me.
*Ha, but did he show up?*
Of course not.
*And why do you suppose that is?*
Because at the last minute he realized that he would actually have to give something of himself and bring down all sorts of walls and … be intimate in order to be with me. The shock! The horror!
*Hmmmm…*
Ahhh, isn’t that reminiscent of AZ this time last year? Making all sorts of realizations about himself and admitting how he’s been depressed for the past 35 years and how miserable his life is and then doing nothing about it. Seems as though Lex is on that same path. Running hot, running cold, running away.
*And yet you still have the audacity to gloat?*
Yes, I do. You see, Conscience, I like being right for once. I like being able to sit back and watch the play unfold as I predicted it would. Whether I be the victor or not, there is a small victory in being right.
*So, he doesn’t think you’re worth changing for?*
Oh, it doesn’t have anything to do with me personally. It has everything to do with what he wants bad enough, not just me, but life and living life instead of running away from it. Now, life will let you know that the further you dangle the carrot, either a) peeps will give up or b) They’ll follow that carrot until they’re allowed to have it. I, being the carrot, win either way. If he walks, he wasn’t worth having. If he follows, then he might be worth having.
*Its not your job to change anyone.*
This is I know… but a little incentive never hurt anyone. How difficult it must be to look at something so beautiful and strong and intelligent and wish you could have it… and you turn and look and walk… and turn and look and walk… and then turn and walk back and then walk away again.
*Not just gloating but conceited as well*
Convinced, baby, convinced. I’m worth every positive change he could make. The portal is closed. I’m the destination now. That’s the choice we all have. We all have the capability to look in the mirror and say, “I’m going to change. I’m going to be different.” Its not something I have a corner market on. Now he walked back but now he’s walking away again but he keeps looking back. Its hard not to. The only thing is, I’m ahead of him, so every step he takes back is another one he’ll have to make up later because I’m not stopping. He needs to get on the fast track.
*Not asking much are you?*
Hey. I did it.
*Not very sympathetic are you?*
Well…. no. Empathetic perhaps but not sympathetic. We all have our burdens to bear. Each is as heavy as the last. What one could take, another could not. The stronger you are, the more burdens you must bear, for a lesser person would fall. And before you say anything Conscience, I’m convinced, okay?
*Okay O Great Gloating Conceited Convinced One… how’s this going to end?*
As far as I’m concerned, I’m going to be just fine. As far as he’s concerned… well, that remains to be seen. I think its going to be interesting.
*One last thing… OGGCCO… why did he do this? Why did he start talking to you again?*
Because he loves me dork. Its hard not to.
-Conscience rolls eyes- * My God we’ve created a monster*
-Inanna sits up straighter- Look Conscience, its time you met Sixth Sense. Sixth Sense meet Conscience. Now, you two, listen up. Its not hard for me to know when he’s thinking of me or what he’s thinking. I know how much he wants to be with me again. I wonder how the sweat popped out on his brow when he, oh so casually, brought up us “hanging out.” He knows where I stand. He knows how I feel. I was angry with him, yes, very much so. Not so much because he hurt me, but because he continues to hurt himself. He knows if he wants any chance at all, he’s going to have to stop that shit. That’s a tough decision. Its a tough move.
This also not something I can funnel or filter through me and voila, he pops out a new man on the other side. He has to become the new man because Nanna is done with the filterin’ and funnelin’. Frankly, it has nothing to do with loving me, but has everything to do with him loving and trusting himself. That’s nothing I can give him or show him, its something he has to dig around and find for himself, inside himself.
*When did she get so fucking philosophical?*
**I thought she was your monster?**
Ya’ll shut up. -Inanna throws up hands and walks away-
*Thank God, I thought she was going to keep me here all night!*
** Come on, let’s get back to the poker game before she comes back. I’m already on overtime this week and its only Monday!**
Its Over (Part One)
I have survived the first round of Christmas. The second will occur when my most immediate family actually finds the time to get together (i.e. when my brother can be bothered to bring his bitch and brats down to the ‘rents.)
In addition to the wonderful gifts listed previously, I also received, a book, a shirt, a clock, 20 or 30 washclothes (from T-Bird, because I have none. None, okay, maybe two) and a pedometer, also from T-Bird. My friend Beanie has been taping episodes of Nip & Tuck for me so she gave me those. Yay!
Now it is time to look ahead to the coming week. It will be a busy one. Monday, Nate has a doc appt. at 9:20, then he will go to his dad’s. I will pick him up after work and take him to my Mom’s until Thursday evening… ? Friday afternoon? We will celebrate New Year’s with dip.
While Nate is gone, I’m going into that room of his and cleaning. Everything in there is basically getting trashed. Well, almost. I need to make room for all the new stuff. Plus, I will be cleaning around the house and blogging and making medicine pouches and something for Annie. Oh, and working a lot since I have a multitude of bills to catch up on before the KC trip. Sigh. Always something.
My Christmas tree didn’t get put up until Christmas morning. I checked all of the lights before I put them on the tree and yet one half of one strand did not want to work. So, I have a white light star, a big black section, a blinking section of white lights and then a steady section of white lights. The only other lights I had were colored so I strung those over the dark section. So now, it has a white start, steady colored lights, blinking white lights and steady white lights. Yes, its beautiful… different but beautiful. I didn’t put a lot on it… bells, and jingle bells and some other ornaments, most that Nate made or some highly breakable swans.
Before I left to start Christmas rounds, I threated my cats with their lives and the pound if I came home and found my tree on the floor. When I told my mom this, she asked if I thought it would do any good. I told her I was certain that my felines understood my meaning and I would find my tree wonderfully intact even after being gone for almost 10 hours. And it was. Absolutely 100% intact. Not even an ornament on the floor. YAY!
Oh, I almost forgot. My German parents sent me a new witch, which is hanging in the Christmas tree (she’s flying on a broom) and a new set of swans from some place in Germany. I collect swans. (I have two swans made of Swarvoski crystal that they sent me.) They were immediately put in my curio cabinet. I suppose one day I need to sit down and catalog all of them since alot of them are expensive… like the Swarvoski’s, Fenton’s etc. Plus, sentimental value.
Ahhhh… now, Nate is watching LOTR – ROTK the extended version and I’m blogging and getting ready to start on something for my niece. We’ll see if it turns out okay.
I hope all of you had a wonderful holiday and a quick recovery!!
A Conversation With Santa
Okay, finally, as I have been promising for… oh … I don’t remember. Anyway. I’ve already had a killer Yuletide and its not even Ho-Ho Day yet. How has your hostess with the mostess made out so far? Let’s see:
Bonus at work. Boss sends another $100 in the mail. I used part of my bonus to buy a ticket to KANSAS CITY!!! Okay, you knew that already. I used part of the $100 to buy U2’s new CD and John Mellencamp’s Greatest Hits. I LOVE HIM! I also bought new pajamas (WVU – Blue/Gold) and a new pair of slippers (fuzzy light blue). I still have almost thirty bucks left. My other boss and his wife got me a Godiva chocolate bar, Ahava foot cream (from their trip to Israel and the Dead Sea), and a beautiful black, white and red scarf.
I went to see my bud PC and he gave Nate and I … oh boy, this is SOOOO GOOOD… THE LORD OF THE RINGS version of TRIVIAL PURSUIT!! Two of my favorite things in the world, COMBINED!! *Salivating* He also gave me the pajama set that he was supposed to give the girlfriend he broke up with. My luck he is too lazy to return it at the mall. It has dogs on it and its pink. Its a little tight across the chest but, oh well, I’m too lazy, agoraphobic and claustrophobic to exchange it at the mall. Hate the mall.
Now, I didn’t ask for any of that (okay, I prayed real hard for the bonus) but frankly I would be happy with flannel pajamas, new tunes, and LOTR Trivial Pursuit. However, there is one thing I do want to ask Santa for so let me interrupt him at the most important time of year because I’m narcissistic that way.
*Phone ringing*
Hey, Santa its Inanna… Yeah, that Inanna… What do I want?
Well, In case anyone hasn’t told you already, I’ve been a very good girl this year. *Whoever just snorted, shut up*
Now Santa, I know you normally have a pretty tough time with me since I do tend to be a naughty girl. I think though this year, you will see that I am more than deserving of my request.
For starters, I have not gotten drunk and flashed the conductor of the train that sits next to my house on the weekends. What? That time in March? Oh, see, that was a wardrobe malfunction. You know those March winds are killer! Its like you’re just walking along and UP comes the shirt. Really.
I haven’t been in front of any men on my knees… on the floor.
I haven’t lied to my mother…very much and if I did it was so she wouldn’t have a heart attack. Lies of omission only count for men.
I haven’t watched any porn…on my TV.
I have only slept with two men this year. Okay, so one of them was married. But just one and it only happened ONE time. You have to admit, this is an improvement.
I was very reasonable with my other gift requests. (Inanna: I want a George Forman Grill. Mom: What kind? Inanna: The kind that cooks food/Inanna: A scanner would be nice. Mom: What kind? Inanna: The kind that scans pictures.)
I have combed my hair… three times this year. No one notices the tangles if its in a bun anyway.
My house has been neat…seven out of the twelve months. Also an improvement, up from two.
I have not taken any drugs not prescribed by a phys … never mind.
My alcohol consumption has definitely dropped this year. *No wonder I’ve been cranky*
I have contributed my time and money towards worthy causes. *Ha! Got you on that one! Oh, deduct points for gloating*
I have not given any Christians the finger… to their face.
I have not been caught speeding. *I didn’t say I haven’t been speeding, I said I haven’t been caught speeding… see the difference?*
I have not masturb… skip that.
Skip that… skip that… skip that….
Oh and I’ve made wonderful new friends all over the world… What? What do you mean they’re a bad influence?! Oh. Regan? The Spongebob thing? Oh. Well. Um. You know, maybe she just thought it happened… oh, it did for real huh… yeah. Well, that’s just one out of many…
Sid?… oh she’s always like that… that’s why she’s the Mistress of Doomy Burrito Rants… *rolls eyes* … she did what?… you don’t say… hmmmm… well, I’m sure it was just a one time thing. *Ahem* But she writes those great haikus!! *hmpf!*
Well, what about Tsarina and Angi… sweet, sweet peeps, doing good in the world. Yeah, take that Santa.
Hey! Jamie is a nurse and is also doing good things!… so what about that party! … geez, you sure are picky this year!
Wait, wait, wait! I thought its “he knows when you’ve been bad or good,” and you’re just bringing up all the bad stuff!
I keep doing what? Making things worse for myself?! Explain there fucker in red…. Who?… Oh, you mean Sayven, you said “Seh-ven” and its “Say- ven, soft “n”, a little nasal, like bien, see the fucking difference?
Now, look here St. Dick, I’m here with just one small simple request and I’m getting the third degree… Oh? You got one word for me?? Bring it on you fairy dust snortin’, Reindeer abusin’, elf molestin’, old fart!…
Oh.
Trashman.
Yeah, I get it… Well, just so you know you old fuck, he’s MY sunshine, just like the rest, and I didn’t really want that sheet-ripping-sweat-dripping-back-arching-toe-curling-nail-raking-screaming-until-I-can’t-breath-passing-out sex.
Ya’ll worth more than that. Happy Hanukkah. Kool Kwanza. Bright Yuletide Blessings. Merry Christmas. (If I missed your holiday, tell a mammal that cares and quit whining. )
I’M GOING TO KANSAS CITY!!!!!
Passenger Receipt and Itinerary
INANNA MOON
Confirmation Number/Record Locator:
SkyMiles Number:
RECEIPT INFORMATION
Psgr: INANNA MOON
Ticket Number: 00623062338393
This document expires 23DEC05.
Ticket Issue date: 23DEC04
FlightNbr 5033
DepartureDate 14JAN05
BkngClass T
Status OK
Carrier/Vendor DELTA/Operated by COMAIR
DepartureCity CHARLESTON WV
DepartureTime 1015A
ArrivalCity CINCINNATI
ArrivalTime 1111A
Seat/Class 9A COACH
Meals/Other
FlightNbr 5833
Departure Date 14JAN05
Bkng T
Status OK
Carrier/Vendor DELTA/ Operated by COMAIR
DepartureCity CINCINNATI
DepartureTime 1145A
ArrivalCity KANSAS CITY
ArrivalTime 1234P
Seat/Class 9A COACH
LOOK OUT MISSOURI… HERE I COME!!! HAPPY YULE TO ME!!!
Oh Bring Me Some Piggy Pudding…
That’s how Nate sings, “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” I tried to tell him it was “figgy” pudding but he didn’t think it sounded as cool. Reality speaking, I think he captured the holiday. Happy Solstice my friends!!! Merry Meet!! I’m cleaning. Well, I was cleaning until I missed you guys and had to sit and blog. However, I don’t want to have a House That Jack Threw Up In. Talk about an incentive. Yikes!!! (It is, I’m happy to report, FAR from that.)
Again, I was going to tell you about what I want for Christmas. However, something else has been on my mind. Wait… oh, that was something else on my mind yesterday. I posted in Seven’s comments today what I wanted. And for you non-Cajuns, that’s Sayven, soft “n”, almost nasal, like bien. Anyway, now there’s something new on my mind today. I wrote this letter to my family doctor and I wondered if you guys could give me your opinion.
Dear Dr. B.:
So sorry to bother you yet again with my problems, after all, you’re just my physician, why should you care? I mean, since December 1st you have been faxed two letters and have received a phone call from me answered by your darling staff or your answering machine, or a multitude of answering machines, almost every other day. And how wonderful that you keep me from getting bored by not having the same person answer the phone each time.
In the past three weeks, I have valiantly tried to get you to a) prescribe medication which my psychologist says I need to try and 2) then have you or your staff get this prescription pre-authorized by my insurance so I’m not paying $100 for 30 freakin’ pills. Did I mention I don’t have a hundred dollars? Didn’t it mean anything to you that I was thoughtful enough to call the insurance myself, get a case file set up, call you with the phone number, the case number, the diagnosis code from my psychologist’s office, AND have my insurance fax you a list of questions that they would need answered? I guess not because I STILL DON’T HAVE ANY FUCKING MEDICATION!!
Now, here’s the long and the short of it. Maybe you don’t believe in Adult ADD/ADHD and that’s why you’re reluctant to assist me. Why don’t you call my Mama? Better yet, call my psychologist. Yes, its true that he doesn’t know if I’m simply an ADDer or psychotic, but wouldn’t you rather operate under the assumption that I’m ADD and if you give me this medication to try then I won’t BE PSYCHOTIC?? Furthermore, you know those cute little self-tests they give you to at least give you an idea if you’re ADD? Well, 25 is considered the bottom most score for severe. I scored 40. This is exactly the reason why I haven’t called your office EVERYDAY… because I got distracted. It certainly isn’t because I’m NICE.
Perhaps though, its just the fact you have an asinine office staff who need a good ass chewing for not responding promptly to my concerns. Now, I don’t expect them to kiss my ass, or, at least I didn’t, that’s all changed now you see because if my ADD psychotic ass can remember to call YOUR office amongst all the work that I’m NOT getting done, surely a member of your stellar staff could do the same. Maybe THEY’RE the ones who need the medication.
Now, if you had any concerns at all about prescribing this medication or getting this medication authorized through my insurance then I would expect one of the following things to happen: 1) You would consult with me by phone; 2) You would ask that I come to your office to consult with me or 3) You would consult with my psychologist. Since my psychologist’s office actually answers the phone and knows whether or not you freaks have contacted them by phone or fax or snail mail, my guess is, number three hasn’t occurred. Since I’m all up in arms and pissy, yeah, numbers one and two haven’t occurred either.
I’ve heard some wonderful things about this medication. While no medicine is 100% effective in curing what ails us, I would like the opportunity to see if perhaps I would be compelled to actually pick up shit around my house instead of just staring at it, confused and bewildered as where I should start. Perhaps I wouldn’t spend the days before Christmas cleaning out six months worth of sale papers and collection notices from under the couch, or actually washing ALL of the dishes instead of just what I can get by with, or actually being able to put clothes up in the closet in and in the dresser when I finish washing them instead of leaving them stacked on the dryer or in a basket, hell, maybe I would find the gumption to WASH the fucking clothes more often and a full load, that would nice, instead of just throwing in a pair of this and a pair of that to “get us through.”
Perhaps it doesn’t matter to you what effect this has on my self-esteem. Perhaps it doesn’t matter to you that I’ve been called do-less and lazy my entire life. Perhaps it doesn’t matter to you that IF this medication works, I’m still faced with re-learning better habits. IF this medication works I have over an intense month of work ahead of me with writing lists and forcing myself to budget my time better so my house will be clean and I’ll still have the time to do the things that keep me sane, like blogging and beading. And let’s not fail to mention what a positive effect a much more organized mother would have on my ADHD child. And lo and behold I may actually make a budget and stick to it so I’m not biting my nails four days before Christmas praying for a bonus.
So, what exactly is the fucking problem? Do you even KNOW there’s a problem? Well, if this letter actually made it to you instead of one of your highly evolved ass monkeys trashing it, then you do now. I know I’ve been sarcastic and rude and I’ve not used very nice language. It happens to us ADDers, its IMPULSIVE BEHAVIOR, you know when we interrupt and finish your sentences and otherwise do and say things that other people find inappropriate. *pause* So, if you don’t want inappropriate letters, and your staff trashed and called ass monkeys, then have someone get off their lazy “piggy pudding” ass and provide the information to the insurance company.
You are impeding my progress. Either get on board or get out of the way, because I’M COMING THROUGH.
Verrrrry truuuuuly YOURS!
“The!” Nanner
So, wonderful bloggy pudding pals… what say you?
Vulnerability
I had a funny post somewhat ready for today but something has been on my mind. Its this. This is an article about violence against pregnant women. The article was written in response to the murder of Bobbie Jo Stinnett. I first got wind of her murder when her daughter popped up on the Amber Alert. When I saw “premature baby,” I thought, “now who in the hell lets a premature baby out of their sight?” If you don’t know, Mrs. Stinnett, eight months pregnant, was strangled to death and her daughter CUT FROM HER WOMB.
What ever that little girl is made of, it must be some tough stuff.
A study in the above referenced article states that the leading cause of death for pregnant and postpartum (up to 6-8 weeks after birth) women is not hemorrhage or stroke, its homicide. HOMICIDE. HOM-I-CIDE.
More often than not its at the hands of someone they know. The husband, the boyfriend, the ex, the ex’s wife or new girlfriend. Rarely is it an act of random violence.
Mrs. Stinnett knew the woman who attacked her because they had corresponded over the Internet about the Murderer buying a dog. The same damn medium where we have met. Where I welcome you into my home and my workplace. Where I arrive unannounced and silent in your den, living room, bedroom, or office. Frightening isn’t it? Some of you know my real name, my address, and my phone numbers and I, the same about you. Scared yet? (Anytime we hear about Internet “relationships” gone bad, I know this goes through my head.)
There is nothing more vulnerable than being pregnant. Nothing. Especially in the last trimester. You’re off balance, heavy, and tired. You’re not agile and any heavy exertion in the last three months will likely rock you back on your heels in pain. The ligaments in your groin and stomach are tender and stretched. Its not a likely time to want to be fending off an attack. You’re only thought would be about your baby. The Mama Bear response takes over and nothing else matters but that child living.
The article bothered me. I’ve written before, a while back, that one of my clients was pregnant and murdered execution style when she was eight months pregnant. She owed the wrong people money. Her son went to pre-school with Nate. My co-worker and I went to the funeral to speak to her mother, who we also knew. The casket was open. At first I wondered why they had a baby doll in there with her and then realized, it was her daughter.
She was so perfect, so beautiful. She looked just like a porcelain doll. Unlike her mother, she showed no signs of the trauma which had taken her life. Seeing her in that casket had to be one of the most extreme moments of my life. I will never forget it. (Lacy Peterson never even got that chance… even in death she was denied the right to hold her child – sorta paraphrased from the Scott Peterson trial and how true.)
Even before that, maybe a year or two, but after I had Nate, I went to work at the accounting job I had for a big textile corporation. The parking garage was full of police cars. A woman, eight months pregnant, was attacked. She handed over the keys to her vehicle. But that wasn’t enough for him. He decided he would shove her down the concrete steps in the stairwell and that’s where she was found. She survived and so did the baby. A boy. She has some neurological deficits due to the head injury she sustained.
This happened the day after my friend, Nay, had her baby so as I was visiting her, I had an opportunity to look through the nursery windows to see the baby. He was the only one without a name tag attached to the basinet and you could tell he was a C-Section baby because of his beautiful round head. They caught the asshole and he’s now a guest at one of the fine correctional facilities here. Fucker.
Perhaps within the past two years, I read a newspaper account of a murder either in WV or in MD, but very close the border of the two states. The wife of a philandering husband caught his lover out with her two week old daughter and shot them both. She shot A TWO WEEK OLD BABY!
Sometimes I thought, “That could have been me.” Sperm donor threatened to send me down a flight of steps and he was married. Luckily, he didn’t and his ex is not prone to violence. (Frankly, she was glad to be rid of him.)
I don’t really have much else to say. I just keep wondering where our humanity went and how civilized we really are.
Anything Goes 