So, as always when working on blog posts, I run into the problem of cats stepping on the computer and erasing everything I’ve written. Now that I’ve written it once, I don’t feel like writing it again. That Stream of Conscious has hit the River of Thought and is gone.
I was writing about my brother and my son. My relationship with my brother will never be what I want it to be because my brother doesn’t want a relationship with us. And, my son suffers from education depression and is unmotivated. There isn’t anything I can do about the first, but the second I’m working on. I have a feeling his 504 next year will look very different than last years.
Nate has more motivation now, motivation to learn, but that doesn’t mean he’s excited about learning and learning to his potential. If that makes sense. I’ve been reading a book that my friend Vince recommended called, “The Mind of Boys,” and it has been very helpful. Although I wish I had discovered it a long time ago. It is also very helpful for someone who will be teaching boys.
Things are sort of… up in the air right now. Although I’ve had my issues at work, I do love my job. However, I also need to teach for my graduate degree and I’m attempting to get my feet under me to accomplish that. I need to make a decision but don’t feel I’m in the position to make it yet. Argh!
I haven’t mentioned AZ for a while. We see each other for lunch on occasion and he wrote one of my recommendations for graduate school. It made me teary-eyed. I think one of the most important things he put in there was how inspiring I was to him. I chose to believe him instead of thinking he was bullshitting. When I think back over the course of our very long relationship, I can see why he would write that and the small strides he is making toward being the person he wants to be instead of allowing himself to be tossed about by everyone elses currents.
T-Bird went back to school and she is searching for a job. Even in our job market, which has not taken the recession as hard as others, this is tough. People are so desperate for jobs that she is getting low-balled, even with the experience and job training that she has had. It’s scary.
Things on the relationship front have changed since my last post. I’m not sure how to characterize it. One of my guests that I’ve known since I started working there asked me out. We’ve always had a good relationship and I like him, plus he really is a good kisser. I’m not sure though, I think he’s a bit too… something. Problem is, he’s such an open book and I’m so good at reading him empathically, I know what he wants and what he’s thinking before he does.
Therefore, I already knows where it’s going, which I’m okay with. I’ll figure out more when we go out Friday. I don’t see it having long-term potential, which I’m also okay with. Most of the time, even more often now, moreso than before, this is the kind of short-term ride I pass up but this time I’m just going to jump on. It’s too intriguing not to.
I have a feeling that once he figures out I can’t be fooled, he may just move on.
I also like the fact that I can feel again. For long I’ve been blocked. I still am but only to a degree, only to the degree that I chose to be. For too long I’ve viewed the world through dispassionate eyes because it was easier than feeling the pain. The pain isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I suppose, thus far, I’ve lived through the worst of it. Losing my pets, AZ’s marriage, the Court case with Jeff, all of which produced literal physical pain in addition to my emotional pain.
Now, I’m back to trouncing through it, roiling it up, and kicking its ass instead of fearing it. One of my co-workers refers to me as Sarah Connor – not bad, not an ass, but badass. I’m more Sarah Connor, flawed, human, and badass, and less like Wonder Woman. I like knowing I can be Sarah C0nnor and I don’t have to be Wonder Woman, although I do love the boots. But, combat boots will work too.
I need to go mow the grass before the storm hits. I’ll leave you with some music and SURPRISE! It is NOT Alice in Chains. One of my favorite lines from this song was what I posted on Facebook: “Here we are buck naked, yeah, but where should we begin, when its not the flesh we’re after but the howling ghost within?”
Yesterday, I received a call from my attorney’s paralegal. She said they had received a letter from Jeff’s attorney stating that Jeff did not believe that he or Nate was being treated fairly by the Court, that he loved his son, but, he would be withdrawing his objection to the petition and hoped that when Nate was older that he could explain his side of things and the two could have a relationship.
That was Jeff-speak for, “I’m a drunk, I don’t want help, I don’t want counseling, I’m not changing, I’m not trying, I haven’t gotten my way, so I’m taking my booze and I’m going home. This all someone else’s fault, but not mine. Nope, I’m the victim.”
Stunned, shocked, angry, relieved, sad, disgusted, angry, amazed, angry, very angry, stunned… just a few of the emotions I experienced. And the tears. I had forgotten that I still had it in me to cry. But I did, and I cried today too.
After all I’ve been through, after all I’ve studied, after all the counseling… how could I have forgotten how strong addiction is and how absolutely delusional it makes someone. How could I have forgotten the blaming behavior and zero accountability and zero responsibility for his actions.
I know I did the right thing. It is just the saddest thing for a man, for anyone, to choose a bottle (a syringe, a toke, a smoke, a gamble, pick your poison) over their family. And, this isn’t the first time, but for us, its the last.
Last night, I had a dream I was in a hospital and I had a black eye. The black eye is the pain, the hospital is the need to heal.
Yesterday, I was driving Nate to school and a doe ran in front of my car. I had seen her coming from the side so I had already slowed to stop. It wasn’t until later that I really understood. My grandmother sends the doe as a sign to me, and the symbol of the deer is that of gentleness, unconditional love, and kindness. Its comforting.
Yesterday, I got a hug from my Greek Adonis, conversation, and he asked me to make him beaded cufflinks. I was trying to explain about looming and he was rather confused. He said, “I’m going to Google that so that next time I can discuss it with some intelligence.” I like the idea of having a “next time.” He is so humble, gentle, kind, intelligent, genuine, classy, he’s fucking Prince Charming. He should be in a damn Disney movie! He looks like he should be in a damn Disney movie.
The spirits show themselves and they nudge a little. And *deep breath* *exhale* I’m ready for that. I’m ready for change for the better.
Let’s see – Judge ordered (and we agreed so as not to yell and scream for 45 minutes) that Jeff and Nate will see the same counselor, separately, and that she will determine when they should have counseling together, and then advise the Court regarding overnight visits.
Nate is unhappy about having another counselor as he likes going to the Domestic Violence center. He’s still going to go to the Center, but just deal with different issues. We’ll know more after his first appointment with his new counselor.
When Nate and I came home last night with one of Nate’s buddies, I saw a man walking down the street toward my house. He moved over behind my neighbor’s van as though to get out of our way, but when I pulled in at my house, he turned around and started walking in the direction that he had just came from. And it was raining.
I wonder if he really thinks I’m that stupid that I don’t know its him. Moron. I guess he figured I had caught him driving around the neighborhood and now he would try a different approach.
Anyway, Nate is doing well so far with school. He’s putting a lot of effort into it, doing his homework, and he and I have the agreement that I won’t question every tiny paper in his backpack as long as his grades are good and he’s turning his work in. He’s still irritating me with getting to school on time… he likes walking in when the bell rings, which annoys me. However, he knows if he causes himself to be tardy then he loses his electronic privileges for the evening.
He seems so relaxed, happy, and so much more mature. He still has a lot of anger and hurt over his father, but I’m hopeful that counseling will continue to whittle that away and give him the tools he needs to deal with it appropriately.
We are fostering Nate’s sister’s cat, Moose. She and her mother are getting ready to move out of their current living arrangement into a place of their own. Her Mom’s boyfriend (soon to be ex), has nixed the cat living there until they can leave. So, Moose lives with me for now. He and Chico are about the same size and they play like demons. Its hilarious.
I told my mom about Moose and she said, “Well, if she doesn’t come back and get him then I’m coming down there and personally taking him to the animal shelter! You have too many pets as it is now!”
Ya’ll, my mother has serious issues. It may have gone unnoticed to her, but it isn’t lost on me that I’ll be 39 years old this year, I pay my own mortgage, and my own utilities, I pay for everything! I’ve lived on my own for 14 years and wow, I’m raising a child too. Amazing that I’ve made it this far without her controlling my every move. She’s messed up in the head.
Wilbur is a big ball of fuzz and he’s not going anywhere either. No, my mother doesn’t know about him. I’m afraid she’ll attempt a catnapping. Bizarre.
I saw AZ the other day. It was … okay. I saw him while Nate and I were out to eat. His wife, mother, and another mutual friend were with him. I’m still hurt but its fading. Seriously… I really know why he married her. She has no confidence whatsoever, and Clint and Stacy would have had a field day with her whole look that day. And he’s so self-absorbed and insecure… her letting him have the continous spotlight is perfect.
He made the comment that Nate’s hair was long… and he was so tall. Yep, that happens when they grow up. He stood there for a while until I remembered to stand up and give him a oh-yeah-guess-I should-hug-you hug. Used to be I would have jumped up and given him a real hug, but… just didn’t really feel the need. It was painful just exchanging pleasantries with him. Painful in that I didn’t really want to. I was being polite.
I described her to my counselor as a mouse, with sound effects and visuals. I cracked her up so bad she didn’t even have a chance to tell me, “No, no, not nice, examine your feelings, Grasshopper.” I said, “Well, being married to him hasn’t done her any favors.” And while I know that he and I were totally incompatible in so many ways, it still hurts, and I’m angry, and she makes me roll my eyes.
And, it pisses me off that he acts like things haven’t changed since he got married. And, naturally, he buries his head in the sand instead of addressing it. That’s his way of not dealing with it. I’m going to deal with it. He doesn’t have to participate in it, he doesn’t have to make any peace with me or it, but I do, and I will.
Ugh, that whole situation just irritates me. And, my mother irritates me. Really.
I have lost about three pounds and two inches from my waist since starting my new diet and exercise regime. I’m three inches from goal and I don’t really have a weight goal, just an inches goal for my waist and just to be healthier.
That’s about it. Have a great day.
Lex is leaving for college tomorrow. He came over tonight to tell me good-bye and rub my bum shoulder that I hurt while raking the lawn in preparation for mowing. Then he decided to rub some other things and … well, that worked out okay.
I wish I could say that I’m going to miss him.
One of my therapists was digging around in my past the other day and said, “You’re angry, why are you not talking about your anger?”
I said, “I am angry! I know I’m angry.”
“Then why are you not talking about it?”
“I am talking about it, I just told you I was angry. I’m not sure what you want. Do you want me to tell you that my mother is a fucking bitch, because I can do that ALL DAY.”
That must have been what she wanted because she let me rant and rave for a bit. I’m not much happier with my dad for not opening his mouth and saying something all those years. Matter of fact, I may be more mad about that. I can remember my mom being mad because supposedly my dad took up for me in private. Whatever. It didn’t help anything then, and it doesn’t help anything now.
I’m not exactly sure where I found all of the strength I have, it certainly wasn’t from either of my parents.
I only saw my dad tell my mom to shut up one time. It wasn’t about me, it was about something else, but in my opinion, he should have told a bit more, instead of sitting around with his arms crossed, absorbed in the TV so he didn’t have to deal with her. No, he left that to me. Thanks Dad, thanks a whole hell of a lot.
I think one reason that I am so strong, or at least appear to be is that my mother was such a whiner. Just a whining pathetic bag of emotional tangles and depression and not much has changed. The combination of never wanting to be like that, and the stiff upper lip I developed from her emotional abuse and abandonment and my father’s literal abandonment, by staying away a lot of the time, just conditioned me to not be, what I perceived, a whining pathetic sot.
I conditioned myself to roll through life, taking the punches, left and right, and getting up, dusting myself off, and moving on. Really though, I was just shoving a bunch of shit down inside of me and now I’m spinning my wheels.
What’s really frustrating is listening to my mother yak on about Dr. Ph*l and Opr*h as though they are the end all and be all of how to better yourself. WHATEVER WOMAN! She talks about all of the people she sees on Dr. Ph*l but never has the self-awareness to realize HOW MUCH LIKE THEM SHE IS!
And my dad, Jesus H. Christ, I don’t think the man has contemplated an emotion for several years. I’m one of those people, you know, the ones who are certain they were adopted but were never told. I always thought my dad was an intelligent man, but has he ages, he shows just how ignorant and close minded he is.
Anyway, I want to learn how to play the fiddle. And I want to go back to dance class. And, instead of one story, I’m submitting several to my local paper’s “Write Your Own Column” section.
So, that’s how I feel in these early morning hours.
Had to be at work at seven this morning. It was pretty busy today as well.
I got home and found an invitation in the mail to my niece’s birthday party this Sunday at a spa. I’m not going.
First, I’m really tired and I’ve got so much shit on my plate I’ve had to upgrade to a platter.
Second, I’m not in the mood to deal with my parents, my brother, my sister-in-law or her family.
Third, neither my brother nor my sister-in-law could be bothered to remember Nate’s birthday and it really chaps my ass to get an invitation to this SPA PARTY for a FIVE YEAR OLD when they couldn’t make a simple fucking phone call to my son when he became a teenager, so, fuck ’em.
My psych doc likes my use of the phrase: Chaps my ass. She had never heard it before. I’m happy to educate her on the various ways I’ve either devised or picked up to express my distain.
Radar says its storming here, but its not. Perhaps its storming on the other side of the house, because its not happening here.
I’m listening to one of my 32 Foreigner songs. Actually, I fibbed. At the time I wrote the last post, I was downloading “No End In Sight: The Very Best of Foreigner,” however, prior to that I had also downloaded “Girl on the Moon,” one of my very favorite Foreigner songs. So, I really have 33 Foreigner songs.
I’m not so happy at work. I love my job, I love my guests, its the rest I tire of. Its also getting to the point where I’m going to need a new car. During the summer my bills go up because of Nate’s daycamp, but I make less at work, and I can’t put any money back for a down payment much less a regular car payment and increased insurance.
Plus, by the time we’re in busy season, Nate will be in school and who knows what’s going to happen with Jeff and the Aspergers evaluation. More than anything, Nate needs me at home in the evenings and weekends. I figure I can survive five years working in an office again.
The time will be gone in the blink of any eye. So will my sanity, but hey, they give me drugs for that.
Nate has lost Wilbur (The One Kitten). My guess is his cranky Mama came in and stole him while Nate wasn’t watching. I’d better go and help him look. He won’t shut up until he finds them.
The announcement was made yesterday that an unnamed individual had been discharged from employment at the restaurant due to sexual harassment. No one seemed surprised and no one asked who it was because… we all knew who it was because you can’t keep anything quiet in food service.
Obviously this was going on even while he and I were dating. Dipwad.
I was talking to one our teengaged hostesses yesterday about movies and such. It was painfully slow at the restaurant last night so we were making small talk and I told her that I had taken a Facebook quiz about which crazy writer I was. The writer was Cormack McCarthy. I had no clue who the man is. But, I now know all things about Cormack McCarthy. He wrote “No Country for Old Men.” One of his other books, “The Road” has been made into a movie and is being released later this year.
Originally I thought “The Road” was one of his older books but it was published in 2006. McCarthy said he wrote it for his youngest son, who is currently 8 years old. Viggo Mortensen plays the lead role in the upcoming film, which drew a blank stare from my hostess.
I asked if she had seen Lord of the Rings. No. A History of Violence? No. Eastern Promises? No. Shocking, just shocking. She’s only seen two of the six Star Wars movies. Sheltered. Harry Potter? Nope. Jeeeez. At least she knows what “Twilight” is.
The Chico Mocoso –
He’s laying in the stuffing of my c0ouch cushions while I was washing the covers.
Oh, that reminds me, I need to make something for family meal this evening. Gah. I guess I’ll make squash casserole.
Didn’t hear from my brother for Nate’s birthday. Not even a phone call. That makes me a little pissy. Actually, it makes me a lot pissy. If I don’t get a card in the mail, or visit, or send something via my mother, I at least call my nephews and niece on their birthday and give them a little something when I see them. I’m boycotting my brother and his wife. I’m not asking for money or even a card, but a little recognition would be nice. Assholes.
My dad and I were discussing Federal Firefighters while I was there over the weekend. They work for the Forest Service and I guess are often moved around from post to post, or where they are needed to fight fires. Makes sense. My dad said, “That must be some good money.” My mom said, “Oh I bet you would have liked that, being away from your family all of the time and not having to deal with any of us.” Issues, mother?
I said, “Well, take your family with you.” My mom said, “What? And move around all the time?” I said, “Military families do it, all the time. Your sister did it for years.” Then she said that it was only every five years that they moved etc. etc.
I had happened across a $2 bill while at King’s Island and talked a lady out of it. My dad collects them. I also happened across one of the new Lincoln pennies so I took those for his Father’s Day gift. He said, “Oh, I have a ton of these, you know I collect them.” Why yes, Father, that must be why I thought of you when I saw it. He then told me a lady in the area had taken $158 worth of $2 bills to the bank and the ladies at the bank called him to come and get them.
Hmmmm… I only brought you one but I thought of you.
I finally went and took a nap. Avoidant behavior? Why yes, thanks for noticing.
Is it September yet?
I received a call from Jeff about 40 minutes ago to let Nate and I know that his uncle had passed away. I had my phone on vibrate and didn’t hear it, but did see where he had left a message. I wouldn’t have answered it anyway. At about the same time I heard Nate’s phone ring and it was his sister. So about the same time I was listening to the phone mail, Nate came in the room to tell me that Jeff’s mom had called Danlel and told her that Vic had passed away.
Jeff said in the voicemail that there would be a private family viewing later in the week and we were welcome to come but understood if we did not.
I asked Nate if he had heard the voicemail (I had put it on speakerphone) and if he wanted to attend. He asked if there was going to be a public viewing and I said I didn’t know as Vic was originally from Boston, had moved to Maryland, and now lived here. I wasn’t certain if his first wife had died or if they had divorced, or even where he wished to be buried.
Nate said that if it was just going to be family then no, he did not want to go. I paraphrased what he said, “If its just family then you don’t want to go?” He said, “No, because my dad will be there and I don’t want to see him. If its public then, yeah, of course I want to go.”
That’s the first time that Nate has said that he didn’t want to see his dad. And not only did he say it, he said it with such finality and maturity in his voice, it was… I really can’t even find the words.
Nate and I were both misty-eyed talking about Uncle Vic (he was in his early 90’s, had Alzheimers, and had had a stroke around the first part of April) but Nate patted me on the back and said, “Anyway, Uncle Vic’s in a better place, right?” I assured him he was and he walked out of the room.
I thought of what I could say to Nate about saying good-bye and being there for the family, but… I didn’t. As he sits on the threshold of 13, having passed the seventh grade (Gott sei dank!), and in the interest of breaking old habits of my own, I said nothing. And I won’t.
Unfortunately, Nate is an old hand at death. I heard him counseling his sister after a young lady she went to high school with, and had known since grade school, died. He said, “At first, you’re going to be in shock and kinda numb, then its going to hit you, and you’re going to cry a lot.” That reminds me of what my counselor said about children who are abused. She said that you hear a lot of horror stories but a lot of abused children grow into very compassionate and caring adults.
My son is very compassionate and I’m sure he feels his own sorrow about Vic’s passing and his family’s sadness. However, he also made it pretty clear, he wasn’t offering himself up as any kind of sacrifice. At this time, Nate and his sister have made the decision to not just sever ties with their father, but with an entire branch of their family, including a younger cousin that both were close to.
It is sad in so many ways.
On a brighter note, having passed seventh grade by the skin of his teeth, and perhaps not happy with the nail-biting which has taken place since the last day of school, my son says he’s going to do much better next year and was very receptive to the idea of us studying WV History over the summer to give him a leg up on his class and the Golden Horseshoe Test. He was less enthusiastic about reading “Rocket Boys” because he said he had already seen the movie.
I said, “But the book is better and you’re going to have to read it for WV Studies next year anyway.” He sighed and then declined, stating he would rather not ruin any surprises. I did look up some WV history books online and we’ll hit BooksbytheMillion or a local bookstore to find one. I’ll take what I can get.
The I Haplogroup that is. It appears as though much of the DNA on my mother’s side of the family stems from this Haplogroup, which diverged from Haplogroup IJ (or Middle Eastern) a few years ago, like 20,000, give or take 10,000 years. The more letters and numbers you have after your haplogroup, the more you can narrow down your genetic pool.
I’ve already determined that I’m a descendant of Niall of the Nine Hostages, ancient Irish Royalty. Now I also know I have Dinaric Slav DNA, meaning, my DNA is more compatible to Croats, Serbs, and Bosniaks. My other familial markers indicate an ethnic assocation of Italo-Celto-Anatolian and Basque/Gascon.
Some DNA evidence, that I haven’t seen yet, links our family to the Sephardic Jews and their travels from what is now Israel to Spain, where, after a while of being prosperous, they were told to either convert to Catholism and forgive their loans to Ferdinand and Isabella or you know, bad things would happen. They instead snuck over some mountain, (think 15th Century “Sound of Music”) and then on to France where they were ennobled but were eventually either killed or driven out for being Hugenots even though someone’s sister married Charlemagne’s brother or uncle or something. Thanks a lot, Charlie!
All this proves is that I’m a mutt who can be a royal pain in the ass.
Reading about the testing and the haplogroups and haplotypes and all the history and ethnic markers gives me a headache! Its good for a history lesson, that’s for sure. Very confusing in some ways.
Anyway, that’s about it from here. Ya’ll have a good one.
My sparkling white shoulders got a liberal dose of sunlight today. Nate, my dad, and I went morel hunting. That’s molly moojers to all you Appalachian folks. We found 132. Last year, my dad found over 3500 during the season. Rightfully so, and at $10 an ounce (dried), my dad is very protective over his mushroom patch. He put up pink ribbons over the roadway leading to the patch so the loggers wouldn’t disturb them.
Guess what? They disturbed them. Morels grow from a spawn under the ground which can stretch for quite a distance and while they need warm temperatures and some sunlight, they actually grow better in heavily wooded areas, especially around the towering poplar trees, beside of rotting logs, and will push their way through heavy leaf cover. My dad filed a claim with the logging company. If he doesn’t get any mushrooms out of the area where they logged, he could be compensated. Its almost the equivelant of disturbing a ginseng patch.
Nate was not so enthusiastic about morel hunting and finally wandered off the mountain. My dad and I combed the road and mountainside from several angles. When I say “road” I mean a gas road, or just an old logging road that is still passable but covered with grass and leaves. We found several just by walking down the road, several sticking out of the hillside, and some big black ones that I spotted from several yards away.
When morel hunting, you really have to work at it. You have to go over the same area because they will be hiding in the leaves or behind logs and if you’re going up the mountain you may miss them, but find them on your way back down. My dad would be above me and say, “Whooo, I see one, right there, five inches ahead of your stick.”
From my angle I couldn’t see it, but from his angle he could. At one point my dad was bending down to pick one up and I said, “Dad, there’s one right beside of your shoe.”
My dad is funny. Everytime he found one he would say, “Whooo.” For the record, that’s about 75 “Whoos” today. Often he would have several “whoos” in row because once you find one, you two or three or seven, like we did today.
Even though its early in the season and the black morels fruit first, I did find a few of the grey morels, which fruit second. Yellow morels fruit last in the season. A word of caution, if you think you’ve got a morel but there are wisps of cottony fibers in it, DON’T EAT IT! Morels are completely hollow on the inside. Always, always, always, soak your morels and cut them in half before eating them.
I stole this picture, as you can tell. But, a lot of the morels we found look just like this one. We roll them in cornmeal, fry ’em and serve them with pinto beans and cornbread. YUM!
My dad and I had a great time and I’m looking forward to going again very soon, hopefully this week. However, it was 79* today and its supposed to be 29* by tomorrow night with snow showers. This really sucks. Right now there’s a big thunderstorm heading in so I have to go close the windows and get ready for bed. Have a great night.
Hooo-eee! A lot going on in this neck of the woods:
First, T-Bird’s eldest, J1, was admitted to the hospital yesterday for an emergency appendectomy. I went to sit with him today when T-Bird had to go pick up the little ones and drop them off with her sister (their egg donor). She told me J. had to walk from the bed to the door in order to get to go home tonight. Well, after much cajoling and little moves, J. made it into the hallway and was sitting up in the chair when she got back.
She called me later and asked, “Just how the hell did you get my son to do anything?” Obviously he was feeling less than cooperative once I left. I told her I probably just nagged him so much that he finally just did it to get me off his back. He’ll be spending another night. Send some healing vibes his way, and send T-Bird a little patience please.
Its March Madness mah pups. I’ve got my bracket filled out and await the insanity. I’ve picked North Carolina to take it all.
Jirachi is healing nicely. I think that he’s healed wrong though. Like, his scrotum is going to be permanently attached to his backside. It just sort of granulated that way and that was about it and … I’m not fucking with it. If the doc don’t like it she can cut it when she neuters him.
All I know is he’s happy as hell that we’re loving on him again, he doesn’t reek of the stench of a 1000 rotting carcasses, and he’s gaining weight again. Woot!
My boyfriend is really irritating me. Last night, he decided to text someone in front of me, and when I looked over, turned the phone so I couldn’t see what or who he was texting. I’m sorry, but if that doesn’t make anyone suspicious, male or female, I don’t know what does. If someone calls, I don’t care who or what gender, I’ll take that call in front of him. Whether its Jeff or Troy or Jimmy or Kevyn, I take the call in front of him because I have nothing to hide.
Men, remember, you have to sleep sometime and I’m a mother. I’m USED to not sleeping. And let us not forget that I have estrogen and a pulse, therefore I am evil.
Plus, day before yesterday when I was leaving work, he kissed me on the cheek. I gave him a, you gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me look. Granted, one of the kitchen guys was outside when I was leaving, but, please, its not like everyone at Le Restaurant doesn’t know I’ve been balling him for four months and its not like we haven’t given each other a quick kiss goodbye in front of other employees before (at the smoke hole, not inside.)
Cut bait, young Padewan.
I’ve really got the dance itch. Its because of Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Many moons ago, Kenny Wayne and his band put out a CD called “Live On.” You may remember a song from that CD called, “In Too Deep.” However, its the second song on that CD called, “Was” that I’ve wanted to do a tap routine to forever!
“She was a crazy thought, a madman’s walk, she was. Oh no, she was.”
I would add the song but I can’t figure out how to do that.
Anywho, before I shell out for tap shoes (again, my first were smoke logged), and tap lessons (again), I’d better find out how much its going to cost to get Nate’s braces. Ugh.
I am continuing with attempting to consume more vegetables and fruits in my diet and less red meat. I loves me some red meat. I limit myself to consuming only three types of liquid: coffee, water, and red wine. However, I have been limiting myself to two cups of coffee, down from three, and I only drink red wine when I’m going to be off the following day. I’m off tomorrow… why am I not drinking wine? I haven’t had any since … Sunday. Be right back.
No need to let that Black Swan Merlot go to waste. Ahhhh.
Anyway, I guess no one thought to tell me that if you consume more fruits and vegetables, you don’t need to drink AS MUCH WATER. So, if you continue eating a lot of fruits and vegetables, even just a serving more, you will go to the bathroom more because, duh, fruits and vegetables have MORE WATER.
I drink a lot of water. On a typical shift, I drink anywhere from 2-4 16 oz. cups of water. I put it in my little styrofoam cup (so good for the environment!) and as I walk by I take a pull from the straw. Last night I had a huge salad from Mickey D’s (after scraping off the chips and dressing), and their fruit and walnut snack.
Then this morning, I went to work and drank 2 cups of coffee and then had the beginnings of a 16 oz. cup of water. I was ran to the bathroom a lot. This can be quite uncomforable when you’re busy and don’t go when you should.
I was reasonably good today. I had the worst chicken noodle soup of my life, mainly picking out the chicken, a Mediterranean panini, with eggplant, squash, and zucchini with feta and chevre cheese, fruit, and a salad with onion, cheese, tomatoes, peaches, and cottage cheese.
In my quest to lessen the red meat in my diet, I had pecan fried catfish. Okay, so fried is bad but that’s not the point. Half a baked potato, and a big fat ugly hot fudge cake and ice cream, because I know how to eat healthy. ICE CREAM IS A FOOD GROUP!!!! The point is, there was a cherry on top, and we all know how I’m trying to put more fruits and vegetables in my diet. This is why a glass of wine two days a week is a good thing. Wine is a vegetable, I mean, a fruit. How much have I had?
I also had five Tagalongs, because you all know Girl Scout cookies, along with ice cream, red wine, and chocolate, IS a food group. Plus Tagalongs have peanut butter in them, which ups the iron and protein content of said cookies. Hey, I read labels mah peeps!
Jirachi really does coo like a pigeon when he purrs. I know this because he’s eating my earlobe as he purrs. For him, earlobes are a food group.
Sometimes I give my co-worker, Emile, a ride to work. I have her hooked on the new Nickelback CD, especially “S.E.X.” I mean, who’s not hooked on it. It was playing when she got in the car this morning and she said, “Oh man, I was hoping you would have this in and I would get to hear this. It pumps me up.”
Guess what the song is about? Yeah, imagine that. My favorite line from the song is: I love to try to set you free, I love you all over me, love to hear the sound you make the second you’re done.
Emile just likes hearing Chad Kroeger scream: YEEEESSSSS!
Okay, maybe I am a little hooked on that as well.
We also listened to “Burn it to the Ground” and then heard “Something in Your Mouth” while listening to XM at Le Restaurant. I may have to make up the first rock ‘n’ roll work out video. I’m so tired of canned music. “Burn it to the Ground” would be a great song to include in a kickass fitness video because we got no class, no taste, no shirt and shit-faced.
The warm-up section includes a shot of Crown. As a matter of fact, all workout videos should include shots of various types of alcohol as part of the routine. If you’re still standing at the end of the video, well, you’re fit.
Alcohol is a food group, along with red wine, which is fruit.
Speaking of alcohol, once you get people lit, you can tell them anything and they’ll believe you. Such as, a guest asked me what the difference between Cuervo 1800 and Patron tequila was. Instead of saying, “A shit-ton of money,” I said, “Well, Patron is a higher quality, meaning it has less impurities, is better filtered, aged, and stored.” Which means, I don’t fucking know! Maybe they keep the desert rats from pissing on the agave.
Next, we had a dude ask, on St. Paddy’s day, if we had any Irish Scotch. Dude, Scotch is whiskey made is Scotland. No, we do not have any Irish Scotch. That’s like asking if I have any Arkansas Bourbon. NO! Bourbon is whiskey made in Bourbon County, Kentucky and they are the only ones allowed to call it Bourbon, everyone else has to call it Whiskey, except for the Scottish who call it, SCOTCH.
Its like calling a yam a sweet potato. A yam is not a sweet potato. A yam is a yam and a sweet potato is a sweet potato. They come from different plant families, different plant groups, have different flowering characteristics, the sweet potato is over 50,000 years older than the yam, and the sweet potato is healthier for you as it is high in beta carotene, just like a carrot.
All of these are the vegetable food group.
Well, I’ve sucked the last of my fermented fruit from the glass and its almost one in the morning so I shall bid you adios. Drink more agave!