That’s what I saw in the clouds today. I wonder if anyone else looked up and saw the same thing.
I’d list some more Alice in Chains lyrics today but I’m listening to “Whale & Wasp,” which is an instrumental.
However, not to leave you wanting, I’ll list these lyrics instead: (If you know the song “Crashed” by Daughtry, you can skip reading them, but to not read them means missing the majority of the point of the post.)
Well I was moving at the speed of sound.
Head-spinning, couldn’t find my way around, and
Didn’t know that I was going down.
Where I’ve been, well it’s all a blur.
What I was looking for, I’m not sure.
Too late and didn’t see it coming.
And then I crashed into you,
And I went up in flames.
Could’ve been the death of me,
But then you breathed your breath in me.
And I crashed into you,
Like a runaway train.
You will consume me,
But I can’t walk away.
Somehow, I couldn’t stop myself.
I just wanted to know how it felt.
Too strong, I couldn’t hold on.
Now I’m just tryin’ to make some sense
Out of how and why this happened.
Where we’re heading, there’s just no knowing.
From your face, your eyes
Are burning to me.
You saved me, you gave me
Just what I need.
Oh, just what I need.
I attempted to blog about this one other time. I have it saved and I re-read it and some of it still applies. A lot of it still applies. Granted, some things have changed but faced again with this situation, I can’t say a lot has changed about that.
I’m talking about Ron, by the way, my contractor. Just so everyone is on the same page. Yes, he was here this morning. After months of glancing down his street everytime I’ve gone to T-Bird’s, took Nate to school, or picked Nate up. And I’ve thought of him. Thought of calling him, which I didn’t. Looked for him at the grocery store, the gas stations, Wally World, Kfreakin’Mart, restaurants, you name it.
And everytime I heard “Crashed,” I thought of him. I listened to “Crashed” just to remember him. To remember how I felt when I was with him. When he sat on my couch and pulled me onto his lap, somehow I couldn’t stop myself, I just wanted to know how it felt. It felt fuckin’ good.
It felt so good just to curl up on his lap and talk to him, to catch up, talk about the house, and how big Jack has gotten. Jack was just a kitten when Ron last saw him. Its been 8 months.
A fact I pointed out to T-Bird as she raked me over the coals this morning. Its been 8 months. It may be another 8 months before I hear from him again. I may never hear from him again. He admitted how many times he’s driven by my house and not stopped. How many times he’s thought of calling me, and didn’t. And I admitted the same to him.
I just wanted to enjoy it. Whatever “it” was.
I’m not stupid. And believe me, when I walked back into my computer room to post what I had written last night and this morning, I said, “Fuck.” Underneath it all, I said, “Fuck.”
But that doesn’t stop the feelings. And what I didn’t say to T-Bird, but wanted to, was this: Must be nice to be able to sit back and make judgements about what is best for me especially since you have a man at home that worships the ground you walk on. You divorced him and you still couldn’t get rid of him. He works, he cooks, he cleans, he does laundry, he has sex with you when you want it, and he’s helping you raise three kids, two of which, technically, he’s not even related to anymore.
And you want to deny me a fucking hour of my life, when my son is asleep and drunk asshole isn’t calling me, to have just a moment, one moment, when I’m the center of someone else’s universe because he missed me and he’s thought of me and he finally got the nuts up to knock on the damn door?
Why? Because he’s married? Yeah, not really my ideal situation either. But don’t sit there and tell me you’d do him, for sure, he’s easy on the eyes, but since I get attached, and this is not the direction my life should be going, well, I should never have let him in the door. Oh, okay, so its okay for you to fuck him, but not me?
Newflash again: I’m not stupid.
Come the fuck on. There was a reason I said, “Fuck.” Then I decided that worrying about what might happen is pretty useless in this situation because, again, it did take him 8 months to come back. He may not be back for another 8 months. He may never be back.
And here’s part of what I wrote many moons ago…
I’m fuckin’ tired. Tired down to the very depths of my soul. I’m so tired and stressed and worn out that my chest aches, my body aches from the work I do. Do I like that he’s married? Of course not. Do I wonder at times what her story is? Of course I do. So crass am I not.
But you know what else? I’ve endured every major situation in my life alone. Sometimes I barely had parental support, much less the support of someone who actually takes me away from everything, even for just a little while. And it compounds and compounds and compounds and please, tell me, if you were in my shoes, were me, and had lived my life, tell me how much better you would be doing than I am. Tell me how much better your decisions would be, tell me you would walk away from it, tell me how much stronger you are than I am.
Tell me you wouldn’t yearn for someone to learn every nuance of your moods and personality. Tell me you wouldn’t want to keep that person who you feel so comfortable with, someone who is so honest about how they feel even though they know it may be offensive to some, someone who can gently tease you, who gets irritated but is still patient.
Put yourself in my shoes and tell me you wouldn’t be tempted to take what is offered. Put yourself in my shoes, live in my loneliness, my heartache, my pain, and my sorrow, and tell me you would turn away someone who eases it. Yeah, might end tomorrow, might end next week, maybe I’ll never see him again when the house is finished. Maybe I won’t care. Maybe I’ll miss him to the depths of my soul. I don’t know. I won’t know and neither will any of you until it plays itself out.
And please, don’t shove that line of shit down my throat about me deserving better. What I deserve and what has presented itself to me over my lifetime and in the last eight months, through six jobs, miles driven and miles flown, coast to coast, nights out, online personals, and meeting at least two or three new men a day, are two different things.
That’s my reality.
I wish I didn’t feel the way I do about him, okay! I. REALLY. WISH. I. DIDN’T. But, I do. And I have and eight months hasn’t changed that. I really wish it would have. He is so soothing. Why is he so soothing to me and why the fuck can’t I find that somewhere else?
Yeah, this is such a bad idea.
At least for one hour this year, I’ll know I was at peace.
The opposite of love isn’t hate – it’s indifference. And if you hate me, that means you still care. – Marcia Cross on Desperate Housewives (which I never watch, just got the quote from Reader’s Digest.)
Hey, I ain’t never coming
Hey, I’ll just wander my
Hey, I can’t meet you here tomorrow
Say goodbye don’t follow
Misery so hollow
Hey you, you’re livin’
Life full throttle
Hey you, pass me down that
Hey you, you can’t shake
Me round now
I get so lost and don’t
And it hurts to care, I’m
Alice in Chains – Don’t Follow
Well, Jeff certainly has changed his tune. I’ve been through this. Suddenly, he’s super dad and just as nice to me as you could ever hope. And, of course, he’s asked me to do him a favor. I was waiting for it. I’ve learn to read the pattern. He hates it when I don’t cry. Or maybe he loves it. Hell if I know.
I don’t stand and take his shit. I fight back and I don’t cry, I pack my kid up and I leave or I hang up on him and I don’t answer if he calls back. This has proven to be very effective. It gets my point across that I’m not fucking around anymore. I don’t NEED him. Spending time with Nate after school is a PRIVILEGE. I don’t HAVE to let him see Nate other than every other weekend and certain holidays.
If you abuse a privilege it gets taken away from you. . . or it just doesn’t want to see you anymore.
When he acts like an adult, I treat him like one. When he acts like an asshole, I treat him like one. The thing I have to work on is treating him like an asshole sooner than having any compassion for him. I’m all pooped out on compassion.
He should consider himself lucky that I still hate him on occasion. It means I still care.
At least from the quote above I realize what I feel for AZ, or rather, don’t feel. I wish I felt SOMETHING. Getting to the point of indifference really leaves a hole in your heart.
In other news, I got a surprise visitor this morning, bright and early at 6:30ish. Now, I’m not a morning person. I had set my alarm for 5:30 so I could try to find Macy, who escaped last night, and also check for school closings and delays. (Schools were delayed, now they’re closed.) My feet got cold and I had trouble going back to sleep. I heard a knock on my door and thought it might be my neighbors telling me that Macy was in their carport or something.
No, it was something, a someone, much better and taller and stronger and warmer. My contractor. Remember my contractor? I’m not a morning person, but if he showed up at my door every morning, I think I’d like mornings much, much better. If this morning was any indication, oh yeah, I’d like mornings a whole lot better.
I think I’ll be seeing more of him, especially since the GFI plug in the bathroom is on the fritz again and he still has to fix the outlets in the kitchen and the shower head needs fixed, and I could use a good fix myself.
Why does being bad feel so damn good???
* Booked our flight and hotel to Arizona, finally. I bit the bullet and got a package directly to Flagstaff. We won’t get in until 11 p.m. but we also won’t leave the following Saturday until after 7 p.m. I felt that was a good trade-off. I still need to book the rental car, but I still have a few days for that. Nate will experience his first red-eye flight. Oh yeah, that’s the bad part. The flight back, we’re stopping in Phoenix and… yes, Las Vegas. At least Nate will see Vegas from the air at night.
* Cats have acclimated to “The Death Star.” That would be their new self-cleaning litterbox. Jack did his business within 3 minutes, took Macy and Hermione a bit longer, with Hermione being the longest hold out. Now, they all stop and watch it cycle but aren’t spooked.
* I broke you in the canyon
I drowned you in the lake
You a snake that I would trample
Only thing I’d not embrace
Oh, you couldn’t dam that river
And maybe I don’t give a damn anyway
So you couldn’t dam that river
And it washed me so far away
Nate and I are both looking forward to standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona. (You know its only an hour from Flagstaff) We have the “Anywhere but Here,” attitude right now. Had a huge blow up with Jeff on Friday. He was angry because the voicemail on Nate’s phone hadn’t been set up. Really. Ummm, there are three people who call Nate. Me, Jeff, and Nate’s sister. We don’t normally call Nate when he’s in school so… no need really for voicemail.
He was also angry that there weren’t any songs downloaded on Nate’s phone. Okay, maybe he has a point with that one. Regardless of how I had tried earlier, it just wasn’t going. I finally got my fine tuning down and he now has a plethora of songs which will stream, wirelessly from my computer to his phone, and then can be downloaded into the music player. He chose THREE SONGS. “Paralyzed” by Finger Eleven, “Low” by Flo Rida, and “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by The Charlie Daniels Band.
I downloaded quite few more, like Daughtry, Black Stone Cherry, Metallica, and one W.A.S.P. even sneaked in. I’ll stream more when the phone has recharged.
Then he went on to bitch about the money for the phone service. It would probably help if he didn’t try to feed me a line of shit about the 2nd phone line being $100 a month, my part being half. Regardless, I offered him the $150 for the phone service, which he refused to accept from me (to date.) Then bitched about paying child support, then bitched about spending his money and losing time from his “job” to pick up Nate from school and he wasn’t doing it anymore. Then bitched that if he was picking Nate up then I would have to be at his house by 4:30 to pick him up because if he wasn’t going to get a break on his child support then he wasn’t going to BABYSIT him.
I told him that was fine, I would make other arrangements since I don’t leave my job until 5 p.m. or later somedays. Then he accused me of trying to take Nate away from him. I told him he couldn’t have it both ways. He can’t bitch about having time with him and then bitch about not having time with him. He needed to pick one. I’ve reminded him before that the Court only counts OVERNIGHT STAYS as a means of reducing child support and I’m not reminding him again.
And trust me, while its helpful for Nate’s medication, that’s about all it covers.
Mind, of destructive taste
I choose…to stroll amongst the waste
That was your heart
Lost in the dark
Call off the chase
Walls of thought, strong and high
As my castle crumbles with time…
I think of you
Oh, yes I do
Such a crime
You opened fire…and your mark was true
You opened fire…aim my smilin’ skull at you
You opened fire…
I live tomorrow, you I’ll not follow
As you wallow in a sea of sorrow
Poor Nate had to listen to all of this even before I got there. Jeff had his gas turned off, my guess after having drank all of his money up, and was pissed. Jeff was angry, belligerent, bullying, and attempting to be physically intimidating and aggressive. I just packed my kid up and left. Then the dickweed called me, continuing to yell (this is when he was talking about picking Nate up from school.) After I very calmly told him not to worry, I would take care of Nate, I hung up on him and turned the phone off.
I asked Nate how much he had heard and he said, “Oh, he was yelling about child support and all of that before you even got there. But let me tell you something, Mom, *points to crook of his arm* If they took my blood, it would show that I’m his and therefore he has to pay.”
Did a wise sage once say that you’ll learn as much from your kids will learn from you?
I’m not sure where he got that from. I try not to talk about things like that with him. I sometimes feel as though I have no choice because it is brought up by the other players in front of him and I try to answer his questions honestly, and I don’t let him watch Maury or Montel, so, still stumped about the whole blood test thing.
So, Nate will be going home with his half-sister until further notice. You know, the one he’s afraid to talk to at school because his dad interrogates him about her. Time for change. Much too late.
This post was brought to you by Alice in Chains and DNA.
* I have finalized my travel plans for the Bead & Button Show in the great metropolis of Milwaukee. I’m staying in a suburb, but still close enough to take the bus, which will save me a lot of money.
I plan on using the money I save to take either the bus or the train to Chicago on my day off, which is Wednesday. Actually, I don’t have to be back to Milwaukee until 4 p.m. on Thursday. (This is when the Bead Marketplace opens for its shopping preview. Only registered attendees can attend this special event before it opens to the general public on Friday.) Maybe I can talk Katey into dinner and beer at the Chicago Brauhaus. Mmmm… Katey, weiner schnitzel, and beer. And beads, don’t forget all of the beads!
* I still haven’t purchased plane tickets, hotel, or rental car for Arizona. I’ve put my deadline for at least buying the plane tickets as the 22nd of this month. I know, not far away.
* Jeff has been on a binge again. He didn’t have Nate for his regular weekend because he said he was sick and had the flu. Nate said, “You know, Dad shouldn’t drink since he’s been sick. Pffft. Drinking probably is what made him sick to start with.” Last night he called rather late, for him, being 10:36 and again at 10:40, after hanging up on me at 10:36. When I answered the phone, he had some religious CD blasting through the phone, then he called on the house phone wanting to know if I was listening. I hung up both phones. He called again later, which I didn’t answer.
Nate made the astute observation that cellphones have a “silent” setting and house phones can be unplugged from the wall. Then said I should do both. Smart kid.
* I ordered one of those fancy self-cleaning litter boxes that Jammie J. had on her blog. We anxiously await its arrival. All I can say is, it better convert cat shit to gold bricks, or at least be worth it.
* New position at work is going … its going. I never knew how much people bitched until I became “management.” Which, by the way, I’m NOT EVEN MANAGEMENT. I’M ADMINISTRATIVE! BIG DIFFERENCE! Well, I’m quasi-management. Sort of management. Its more like being a referee in Romper Room. If day shift has trouble with the chefs, they come to me. If the chefs have trouble with the servers, they come to me. If the evening servers have trouble with the day servers, they come to me. Vice versa.
What sucks most is having to discuss not so nice things with people I really like. Like having to discuss with Candyman why the bar looked like someone took a Red Grenadine shower from one end to the other and why the mess was left for day shift to clean up.
I have, in the past four days, tried to impress upon my day shift co-workers, that regardless of what we walk into, we have a job to do. If you leave 7 teapots clean and come in to find only four are useable, clean the other three freakin’ teapots and let me worry about the issue with evening shift.
I think it helps that I wear the same uniform, I bus their tables, I deliver their food, I vacuum the floors, I clean the parking lot, I make condiments, I refill the coffee, I cut lemons, I clean the freakin’ teapots, I clean the freakin’ toilets, I change the lights, I serve, I stack, I polish, I stock, and by Goddess, I make sure their paycheck is right.
They’ve responded well. Did I tell you Whiny gave her two week notice? Yeah. She’s moving to England. Bon voyage, PopTart!
* One of the guys at my local convenience store showed me a newspaper article that I WISH I could get a copy of. It was from the Police Blotter section of the Capitol City Gazette (the morning paper)(versus Capitol City Daily, which is referred to as “the evening paper.”) Anyway, it showed a picture of some dude named “Smith.” No, really, that was his last name. It was your standard – police were called to a residence in nearby town after receiving notification of a domestic argument.
Really, do you need to know more? Standard, right? Well, except in the 2nd paragraph it stated that Some Chick and this Smith guy were having sexual intercourse (okay, now, its getting good), when Some Chick wasn’t satisfied, so she hit this Smith guy in the head. (No, the paper was not specific at to which head she hit.) The Smith guy didn’t like this too well, so he hit her back. She called the cops, told them he hit her (and obviously didn’t leave out what a horrible lover he is), and they find he has an outstanding warrant in FL.
Smith guy goes to jail, Some Chick is out looking for a new piece of nookie. Ain’t that America, ya’ll? As Mahala would say… you can’t make this shit up.
Her name would be T-Bird.
Way back in 2005, before my trip to New Orleans and Houston, I wrote a series of posts about T-Bird and our relationship. I blogged quite a bit in ’04 and ’05 about how I wanted to kill her somedays. Well, I still do. I’m sure she wants to kill me some days. We accept this as part of our friendship.
Of all the people I know, she’s probably changed the most since I met her. In good ways.
This time last year, she took on the task of raising her nephews in addition to her own son because her sister and Little A’s dad are both worthless pieces of shit. Oh, Big A’s dad is worthless too. Big A will be four in August and Little A just turned three. T-Bird and her old man, who she’s not even married to anymore, have raised Big A and Little A practically since they were born.
T-Bird’s sister asked her to take the boys while she “got her life together.” After the initial adjustment to living at T-Bird’s all the time, she was supposed to come by and help bathe the boys and put them to bed, have weekend visitation, etc. That has probably happened a grand total of twice in the past year. She was also supposed to help out monetarily as best she could. Instead, she decided partying and getting tattoos was more important than diapers, pull-ups, clothes, food, shoes… you know, all those things that kids need.
Had the boys stayed with their mother, there isn’t much doubt in my mind the State would have stepped in and taken them. The reason her sister handed them over to her is because she would take both boys. Everyone else just wanted the eldest. Little A had a lot of ear problems as a baby and whined constantly, never slept through the night, etc. I told T-Bird that as soon as she got tubes in his ears he would be fine. He was.
T-Bird is a very good mother. A little over-protective and no doubt she can be the biggest bitch you’ve ever met, even more than me, much more than me. However, I can say I don’t much blame her given what she has put up with out of her mother and her sister in the past year.
Most of the time, if I don’t have money, T-Bird does. If she doesn’t, then I do. 2007 was one of the leanest years for us collectively, ever. Yet, somehow, we managed to wade through custody, fire, broken water heaters, feast, famine, and family bullshit to make it through 2007.
Her sister is one of the most selfish people I have ever met, to the point of cruelty. Its sad, just SAD people, when a woman will sit on her ass and watch one of her children hurt, sad, or scared, and do nothing, leaving that child to seek solace from their aunt, or their pseudo-aunt, that would be me, or their uncle, who isn’t even their uncle anymore, yet changes their diapers, bathes their bottoms, works to put a roof over their head and clothes on their back. A MAN WHO ISN’T EVEN RELATED TO THEM BY BLOOD OR MARRIAGE (anymore.)
When T-Bird’s water heater went kaput, do you think any member of her family offered assistance in anyway? No. I bought T-Bird’s water heater and I’m glad I had the money to do it. My contractor finished sweating the pipes for them for free as a favor to me! T-Bird and I have exchanged the same $20 for an entire year. I needed gas, she needed gas, she needed diapers, I needed food, she needed food, I needed a utility paid, and on and on.
And she kept the utilities on, a family of five fed, paid the rent, took the kids, including her own, to doctors and dentist appointments, (and trust me, they have a lot because Big A has asthma and other bronchial problems and Little A had the trouble with his ears, and surgery, and T-Bird had two surgeries of her own since the kids came to live with her), clothes and shoes and time off from work, everything that comes with being a real parent.
And her mother and sister have the gall, the nerve, to call T-Bird SELFISH. Yeah. WTF, right? Her sister got mad at her because T-Bird wouldn’t pay her phone bill. Well, how about you exchange that $190 phone bill for that $900 day care bill, bitch?
Her mom and her sister never say a word around me. They wait until after I leave, which doesn’t take long because I can’t tolerate either one and I’d be happy to take one or both out into the parking lot of I’m Holier Than Thou Catholic Church and beat the living shit out of them.
Its as though they, her mother and sister, live to torment T-Bird. They make her life as difficult as possible without a word of thanks. T-Bird didn’t take the boys because she wants praise or accolades, she did it because she loves them. And she would do it again. But DAMN! Leave the poor woman alone!
I looked at her one day, with our four boys whooping like banshees, and said, “You know, it’s sad when you’re the sanest member of your family.” She laughed to keep from crying. Goddess love her heart, and while you’re at it, do something about that family of her’s.
I just booked a flight to Milwaukee for May 31st. I got the Expedia bargain fare. You know, the one where you don’t know what time you’re leaving or what time you’re returning or where you’re laying over, just that you’re goin’. The good news is I got a direct flight from Pittsburgh to Milwaukee. The bad news is I’ll arrive in Milwaukee at 7:10 IN THE MORNING.
The other bad part of that is that I’ll only be in the air for an hour and a half. I live four hours from Pittsburgh and my flight leaves at 6:40, which means I have to be there no later than 5:30 which means I should probably leave home by 1:00 a.m. My best guess is, my room won’t be available for quite a while.
Since I saved on my flight, maybe I can afford to stay in downtown Milwaukee, at $130-$150 a night. ARGH! Even if I stay economy outside the city I still would have to either rent a car then pay parking or take a cab at $50 a day. Still, the savings would be around $50 a day or more.
On my day off, which is either tomorrow or Wednesday, I’ll be applying for an artisan grant through Tamarack. If I get the grant, it will take a big financial chunk out of my trip, which would be oh-so-helpful.
However, before I worry about that, I have to determine whether Nate and I will be making our big trip to the Grand Canyon, etc. etc. That would take place the third week of March, which is a bit closer than the first week of June. Whereas I snagged that awesome $160 plane ticket to Milwaukee, I’m not having as much luck with our tickets to Las Vegas. Car – affordable. Hotel – affordable and nice. Plane tickets – WTF? Are you kidding me??? To Las Vegas??? Shit.
I may just have to bite the bullet. When am I going to have the time, money, and opportunity to take my only child to the Grand Canyon and beyond? Probably not for a long time. Sometimes you have to just do it.
Tuesday night I started feeling really crappy towards the end of my shift. I had felt pretty bad all day with the rain and all and my hip aching like I’m 80 instead of much younger and then I had a charley horse in my ass, of all places.
But, this was a different type of sickness of the tummy variety. I thought of trying to tough it out on a 10 hour shift yesterday and Nate asked if I was going to call in sick and I said that I really didn’t like doing that and he said, “Why not? I did!” That was Monday when he had a sickly stomach and sinus drainage. So, I did call in sick and spent a great deal of time in bed sleeping.
When I picked him up from school he said, “You know Momma, you shouldn’t go to work sick if you work in the food industry because then if you cough on someone’s food and they get sick then they’ll think your food is contaminated instead of you.”
So, I didn’t contaminate anyone yesterday. I’m feeling better today. Just thought I’d stop by and say hello to everyone.
I’ve been promoted at work, but its a big secret until Tuesday, so ya’ll keep it to yourselves. Our Assistant Manager is going back to the floor so they’ve been looking for another AM. I made it clear I wasn’t interested in spending 12-14 hours a day at the restaurant. Nor would I be happy sitting on my ass in the basement office. I took this job so I could move around.
So, they created a new position, sort of. The first part of my job description will be AM lead, which entails being at work at 9 a.m. and being in charge of my shift, making sure everything is done correctly, assisting my fellow servers, and still serving myself, which was big for me. I wanted to stay on the floor. After 2 p.m., I retire to the basement to do paperwork, leave between 4 and 5, weekends off, more money.
At first they wanted me to become an administrative assistant and still bar back and hostess, which I nixed. I wanted to stay on the floor as a server and sitting in the office for hours, again, is not why I wanted to work there. I’m sure I’ll pick up my fair share of bar shifts and I’ll still work wherever they need me, when they need me, but for the most part, I think it will be more streamlined and I’m looking forward to having two days off in a row.
I’m sure all of this will go to hell in a handbag during busy season but until then, I’ll just enjoy myself. I have a new design ready for a kickin’ necklace and hopefully I’ll get to work on that this weekend. Ya’ll have a great one!