God I miss this girl

May 17th, 2017, 8:50 PM by Goddess



The more things change

February 8th, 2017, 9:24 AM by Goddess

I’m sitting here trying to attend an all-day financial conference. (It’s not going well. I don’t multitask too well and there are many tasks to “multi.”)

I wanted to tee-hee a minute about a talk I had with a friend the other day. He was saying how he worked at Polo, and I was recalling my days at the flagship Kaufmann’s store.

I sold Donna Karan. (I happened to be wearing DKNY on the day we had this discussion.) Calvin Klein, Jones New York, Dana Buchman and Ellen Tracy were also sold in my department. So I have an appreciation for these labels.

But my story is that I was the only person not on commission, yet I often had the highest sales.

If retail paid more, I’d probably still be doing it on the weekends at least. But I don’t do well with people on commission — they would return my sales and re-ring them up so they’d get the credit. It was pretty awful, working with those women.

But … customers loved me. Like, “came in on Sundays when I was working by myself” loved me. Because I would help them and not shame them if they didn’t like something. I wouldn’t lie and say they looked great if maybe a different size, color or style would have been better. I wouldn’t cut a bitch to steal the sale out from under the one who had made 30 trips to the dressing room with more merchandise. (Which I as the kid would have to hang up and restock.)

I was about 22 years old, give or take. (I was there for a few years.) Wore my Lerner New York and Gap and Old Navy clearance-rack clothes. I looked like I was 12 years old most days. But I was energetic and kept my clothes steamed and worked way too hard for my (then-amazing) $5/hour.

It was then that I learned I loved being around wealthy people. Different problems, for sure. But never fretting about how to spend that last dime in a way they wouldn’t regret. Like I did every single day. And, to some extent, still do.

My friend said isn’t it funny how nothing has changed — I work lots of hours, I am available when you can’t find anyone else for miles, and I quietly produce a lot while no one is looking.

Good friend, and good memory.



Today, deux

January 17th, 2017, 7:29 PM by Goddess

Today would have been Sia’s 32nd birthday.

She’s been on my mind all day. She’s never far from my mind, really.

Facebook Memories has her thanking me profusely for whatever I did for this birthday many years ago. In a way, it’s like she never really left. But then when you go to call …

I’ve reached out to her mom and sister. They don’t reach back. I figure I was close with her while they weren’t, and vice versa. We could fill in some blanks for each other.

But that’s how it works. Blanks don’t get filled. You don’t get to say goodbye and doors get slammed in your face, if you even get a door in the first place. (Which most don’t.)

I like to think the universe hates a void and works to fill it. A pet dies, you get another. A job ends, someone else who was dying to hire you finally gets the chance. A relationship ends, something better comes along. Right?

Not in my experience. You can be single for 40 years. No one to step in for friends who died or voted for Trump. (Same thing, really.) There’s no replacing a parent or a sibling who’s gone. And judging by how many people are sleeping on the streets because who the fuck can afford two grand for a studio down here, jobs don’t magically appear because you want one.

I tried to think of the best way to honor Sia today, since she’s gone and I’ve never had a friend like that before or since. And perhaps never will again.

Working 24 hours straight sounds about right.

But I went the other direction and left right before 6. Pile of unfinished work be damned.

This after an IM at 4:30:

White-on-white: I can’t finish that today. Almost quitting time.

Me: (I worked all weekend and only had yesterday off and I’m STILL behind and you won’t stay 15 extra minutes?)

Sia would have had a few choice words for the situation. I don’t care either way, honestly. I’ll regret leaving on-time-for-me tomorrow. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be white-on-white and be perfectly fine feeding my mom at a reasonable hour and watching “This is Us” together like we love to do on Tuesdays.

Miss you, Sia. You were the only one out there just like me. With the disease to please. It took you. And I want to beat its ass for that. 

Love you, girl. So, so much love, today and forever. Knock Trump’s wig off for me, OK? I’ll know it’s you …



Robin

January 14th, 2017, 11:32 AM by Goddess

Mom got up to make me breakfast, which she tries to do no matter how bad she is feeling. And that ranges from god-fucking-awful to holy-fuck-make-the-pain-stop. On a good day.

Nevertheless, I get beautiful omelettes every day. Different ones. Usually vegetarian, per my request. And the occasional breakfast sandwich, corned-beef hash, basted egg paired with turkey or Canadian bacon, or “egg in the hole” sprinkled with bacon bits. Which, she says, aren’t real meat so that’s vegetarian.

Today, knowing it’s a working weekend, she got up to make breakfast. But I said nah, I get extra points at Starbucks if I get breakfasts this weekend. Let me grab us something.

I ordered her a tea, which I always do. But today I gave the barista her name instead of mine.

Mom gratefully accepted her tea. And she read the name on the cup and burst into tears.

“It’s my name!” she cried.

We were at Epcot about a year ago and I don’t even know why I got her name on the cup. She had a similar reaction.

She can’t buy me anything, and it kills her.

She hates being dependent on me. She will go without food and say she’s fine and that she doesn’t need anything. Even though, come on, everyone needs food.

We fight about that a lot. “Save your money,” she pleads.

I’d rather save my momma, I tell her.

It’s a moment like this where you know that you did something right in this life. Even if it was as small as telling the barista your name is Princess instead of Goddess. (Her daddy always called her Princess. Or Punkin, although sometimes I got that one too. But she was AWAYS Princess.)

Also, no I didn’t use either of those nicknames, but you get the idea. Names are very important in this little family.

I haven’t gotten much done at work yet. But I did break down and finally sign up for Obamacare. You know, the ones the fuckwits on Capitol Hill are currently eviscerating, decimating and destroying for the poor folks like us.

I finally decided to suck it up and figure out how to pull $700 a month out of my ass. Which, goodbye storage units and lunches and Starbucks. I’d rather save my momma, as I said.

Everyone knows I hate that cocksucking piece of shit and his merry band of deplorables. And now I hate Congress even worse than before, too. I was hoping maybe I didn’t have to become destitute to afford care for my mom.

That was my one hope out of the Orange Oppressor — that he might have, amid all his lies and other assorted bullshit, actually planned to improve the system.

I shouldn’t say it but I’ve been really sick myself lately. I mean, really really not well. And I haven’t been using my own insurance because why should I when mom doesn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. I’ve been socking cash away and hoping that she’d be ok for a little while if something happened to me. (She wouldn’t. She’d be Debbie Reynolds. Trust me.)

In any event, I digressed way too much. But think about it. A woman who is so grateful to have her name on something, anything in this world — wouldn’t this world want to have her well and IN IT and participating fully in it?

Next time you sit your stupid ass home and not vote, or vote for a stupid ass, think of Robin. Please.



Settling

January 9th, 2017, 1:46 PM by Goddess

Momma told me never to settle.

Even at 42, “No settling, girlie.”

We watch Facebook way too closely. We see people who waited their whole lives for love … and what loves they end up finding makes us so sad.

Beautiful people we have loved for a long time, inside and out … taking the first thing that comes along.

Basically, when you are finally ready to introduce the world to your significant other, you want, “Dayum, girl!” to be the response. In a good way.

Mom even left this on my FB wall one year ago today, which is what inspired this …

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But a couple of weeks ago, as I was sort of going with a random flirtation in my world that I wasn’t ever planning to tell her about …

She says to me, “It’s OK if you settle, Goddess.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

Mom: “I don’t think I can live with this pain anymore. I need to know you’re not alone. Maybe you shouldn’t hold out anymore. I need to know you’re happy.”

Me: Lots of tears. Lots and lots of tears. Same kind of ugly tears I had today when she told me she packed up our New Year’s decorations and said she changed the 2017s to 2018 “just in case.”

But to rewind from today a bit …

She’s since backpedaled on the settling.

Mostly after seeing my one beautiful friend with her dopey-ass boyfriend and even-dopier gaggle of kids. She went from single and free to fucking Brady Bunch just to say she has a man.

She’s definitely back to, “Don’t ever fucking settle because I will thwap you upside the head from the great beyond.”

I told her she just can’t leave then.

Also, I am so sick and tired of her being sick and me being tired.

God is a last-minute god. A beyond-the-last-minute god. But could we possibly get him to rouse Lazarus BEFORE he’s in the grave, please please please?!?!