Caterwauling

Anthony — the boyfriend of Melissa the duck-kicking bitch, and brother of Fat Blonde Bitch who sics her dogs on the ducks here — got interviewed by CBS yesterday here. 

His unleashed beast, which Melissa stalked me with, got swamp cancer from our lake. 

They don’t understand karma, clearly. 

And funny he had a leash in his hand the whole time during the interview. Fuckers have two leashes and six dogs. 

And I’m so sick of hearing them bark at all fucking hours. The beasts and their dogs. 

I feel bad that the dog lost his leg. And that he has to live with those assholes. But I have no sympathy for them. 

Leash your beasts and obey the numerous “no swimming” signs. 

It’s not hard. Really. 

Wish they would all move and get the fuck out of our lives. I’d be 100% happier here without them. 

My uncle died. 

Mom was extremely close to him. When my grandfather died, he was the only member of the Manson Family to connect with her. She loved him as much as her own dad. 

And now he’s gone. 

I can’t say much other than that his daughter is a drunk, chain-smoking Cunt who didn’t deserve him. Here’s my mom who loved him like none other, while Elaine didn’t take him to his heart doc appointments and told him to burn in hell as recently as last week. 

No wonder her husband left her. Awful person I can’t stand to call my cousin. 

Mom wanted Uncle Tom to come down here and live with us. He was retired and ok financially and really didn’t need much beyond some companionship. 

I was happy to pursue the idea. I mean, mom loved to take care of her daddy. He needed a good daughter. One who didn’t abuse him verbally and let him starve to death. 

This was my grandfather’s youngest brother. Only Aunt Marion is left. Well, Uncle Ronnie. But that prick can keep his distance. 

Uncle Tom actually quit taking to Ron because everyone in the family was putting my mom down and Tom was sick of it. Ron was the worst of the bunch. The Jesus Freak who gossips about everyone. Go figure. 

I’d like to go back to Pittsburgh for the memorial service, if there is one. Mom couldn’t go if she wanted to, and these fools made my grandfather’s funeral 1,000 times more stressful. Not Tom, but Ron and all the cousins. So it would be in my best interest to stay away or stay silent. 

I just had my first week off ever. But this was the week I was supposed to be off. I guess I could work through the trip. Just wish I had a couch to crash on and Wi-Fi to steal. And that I could punch Elaine in her perennially poodle-permed face. 

Mostly, I wish I could prevent the downward spiral this is going to throw mom into. You know. Beyond the one she’s been in for the past 10 years that Grampy’s been gone. 

It’s also her birthday. So her beloved uncle passed on her day. 

The family vultures are already spreading the news and talking about Elaine in the same nasty way they talked about mom. But they don’t know the half of it with cousin dearest. And I ain’t saying a word. 

I’m just glad mom and her uncle got to talk on his birthday last week. And I’ll try not to cry as we return the items we bought today that we were going to send him in a care package. 

I don’t know, Universe. You’ve brought an awful lot of loss lately. I know to be thankful for all my blessings. (And I am.) But I has a sad right now, and I hope you can assure me somehow that my loved ones are in a better place. 

Give my love to the Manson Family siblings. Calvin, Clair, Red, Lenna, Russ and now Tom, together again. Rock out, friends. And know that we love and miss you all. (Even you, Russ. But mostly everyone else.)

Wanted to head to Miami to see Collective Soul and Goo Goo Dolls at Bayside last night. 

Alas, you plan and God laughs. 

Ended up heading up to Stuart, Hutchinson Island (Bathtub Beach) and Port St. Lucie for brunch, beach and a cupcake. ?

I think I did ok. After all, the beauty of living in paradise is that you don’t have to leave it to feel like you’re escaping the world.  

Panic. 

Panic that this will be the last day off I get for the rest of my life. 

Panic that they lived just fine without me at the office (during a slow week) and they don’t need me back.

Panic that I’ll get back into the swing of things, and stand up and run away. 

Panic that I blew my chance to achieve my personal to-do list, the one I saved for this glorious week, instead chasing freedom and relaxation. 

Panic that now that I know what freedom and relaxation is, I won’t be happy till I have it again. Or that I simply won’t have it again. 

Hurricane Hermine won’t affect us much here. But I’m going to plant my pudgy pork roast butt on the couch anyway and savor my first (and only) non-stressful Friday in the history of Fridays. 

I just hope it isn’t the last one I get enjoy. Because I feel like a whole new person — and one I actually enjoy being. 

Had grand plans to be at one of the southernmost Hyatts or a DoubleTree at the end of America by now. 

But Kadie thinks she’s her deceased big sister, as she took a shit in her food dish and wiped her ass on the baseboard. So, no clean hotels for you, cat. 

So, I’m getting my drank on — just down the street from the office. 

It appears someone stole a package I had delivered there. Reason No. 437,000 the place can burn down. 

I thought I’d have a hard time separating myself from work. I do check emails and texts because I’m not an asshole. 

But after 15 years without a vacation, and in roles where you must jump immediately when summoned, it was pretty easy to detach. 

In fact, after my brunch tour of palm beach, I’m going to have a hard time re-assimilating. 

Quick, someone marry me and knock me up so I can work from home like everyone else …

If there’s been a theme to my vacation, it’s “We have hit every Ross Dress for Less in Broward and Palm Beach counties.”

Whee.

I got some sugar skulls wine glasses. Stemless with black skulls and a small bow on top of each. Mine is the hot pink. Mom can have red. There’s a gold one, for Steeler games. And a purple one for an imaginary friend.

I can tell that Mercury started its retrograde bullshit. I did everything for Mom today, from taking her to Bay Bay’s for chicken and waffles, to taking her to Pizza Time out in Coral Springs for pasta e fagioli and Sicilian slices. To two crappy Rosses out that way just because. And when I was walking out of one of those crappy Rosses in the rain to get the car for her, I wiped out and hit the street.

She never laughed so hard. She sounds like a tea kettle when she’s really laughing. No sound but a high-pitched whistle comes out. She can’t breathe and all she can do is whistle harder. It’s the damndest thing. Usually that makes ME laugh. But I was bleeding and it wasn’t all that amusing. 🙂

I figure it was at Ross and I didn’t have any dignity to protect. I do fall very well, I have to admit. Very graceful and slow. I ended up sitting on my ankle and the other leg was out in front of me. I figured to try to fall left since my phone was in my back right pocket. Of all the goals I set out to achieve this year, this is the only one I can check off my list.

The way I fall reminds me of my great-grandmother Anastasia. One day she fell at home after getting a piece of pie from the kitchen. We came home and she was sitting on her ankle (same one) and the other leg out in front of her. She was calmly eating her pie. That was me in the middle of Fort Lauderdale today. I credit her for my grace, and my green eyes.

If only I inherited her dignity.

Speaking of lack of dignity, I now own three bikinis. (Pausing while you laugh hysterically. It’s OK.) I tend to wear bikini tops instead of bras on the weekend. The problem with losing weight is that the boobs are first to go. (RIP boobies.)

I barely even need a bra these days, but I’m not crazy enough to leave the house without something covering them. And I saw all the bottoms I would need on clearance, which was great. I figure, my shorts are falling off. The bottoms HAVE to fit, right?

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. < / Vinny Barbarino >

(Incidentally, I have an Arnold Horshack laugh when I’m sick. Which I am now. Which means I am on vacation and I HAVE HAD NO BOOZE.)

In any event, I know I have the Horshack laugh because holy shit, me in a full bikini is entertainment of the highest level. I’m in that weird in-between sizing where I can wear juniors’ but I should probably JUST NOT.

However, wearing juniors’ stuff (and a bikini top as a bra, of course) and using my old belt as a hula-hoop was the highlight of my staycation so far.

(Token “Love Trunps Hate” button to match my bumper sticker.)

My old meeting leader Chris (back when I went to the good Weight Watchers meeting in Muddy Branch) always said to toss the fat clothes because you can easily slide back up into them since you just happen to have them. But definitely keep a belt as your progress yardstick, so to speak. Because who wants to fit into an old belt?

Thank you, Chris. As he always used to say to close the meetings, “I look forward to seeing less of you next week.”

I wonder if I would have succeeded had I been able to stay in his classes. Of course, I have a bad habit of thinking everything would better if only I lived somewhere else. 

I sure thought the same thing when I was in Rockville. But I realize now that I had more than my fair share of people who stimulated me intellectually and motivated me emotionally or professionally.

Perhaps that is what I learned on my summer vacation. I was hoping for an epiphany about where I need to be. But the truth is, I could be a whole lot happier no matter where I happen to find myself if I find even just a tiny, regular dose of mentoring and “shop talk” that gives me any sense of direction that is “Forward.”

That could make all the difference between liking and loving Florida. And myself, for that matter.

Yesterday was a total washout. Tropical Depression 9 drenched us. 

Had a clusterfuck-y brunch at Keke’s. It’s pretty bad when the cook quits, the kids in the back are (incorrectly) reading from manuals on how to make sandwiches and omelets, and the two waitresses are reminding customers every two minutes that they close at 2:30. 

Hey, if I didn’t have to send two meals back twice each, and ask for my missing side dishes three times, I would not have been there for a full hour. 

Maybe tell your patrons that it’s gonna be a bad day and to stay at your own peril?

Today is set to be another drencher. So I’m gonna follow the advice I gave all the other Keke’s patrons and go have brunch at FirstWatch. 

I keep watching the weather and prices in the Keys. The overextended houseguest keeps talking me out of it. She also keeps bugging me to feed her ducks.

I am so sick of the daily “Ducks of our Lives” updates and the asshole neighbors who sic their dogs on them. Whatever work-related anxiety that has abated this week has been fully replaced by hysteria about hurt duckies. 

As they say, wherever you go, there you are. As is everyone you take along with you. 

It’s hard to unplug fully. I turned off Facebook notifications and I make it a point not to look at my phone when I know meeting reminders will pop up. But I did promise someone to help them with a project, which means being attuned to email. I keep waiting for this (late as usual) project to arrive so I can know how many vacation hours to charge for.

Took Mom to Jimbo’s Sand Bar in Dania Beach yesterday. I have driven there several times but could never find a parking space. Yesterday Stewie was the only car in the lot. It was glorious.

The Bloody Marys were awful. But the seafood platter (shrimp, scallops and mahi) was very good. I also got the panko-crusted Brie appetizer. Not bad at all. I would definitely go there again. On a weekday.

It ended up being a gorgeous day. Sunny and hot. The storm passed over us and drenched the Gulf. Unfortunately it looks set to hook back around and nail us before wiping out the Outer Banks.

Another place I need to see.

There’s this panic in me now here on Day 2, that what if I never get another day off again? I mean, I should have driven to Tampa or Daytona or Destin and seen the places I’ve always wanted to see that I can’t just cram into one measly weekend.

I even suggested Savannah to mom and she laughed at me. And reminded me that my car is barely built to beat around Delray Beach. Le sigh.

Here I am finally with time, and I’m hanging out in Fort Lauderdale. WTF, right?

Well it isn’t ALL bad …

Today I’m thinking Jupiter. Which I have honestly not set foot in since DA and I went our separate ways. Working up there pretty much ruined it for me anyway; he was my last remaining tie.

Speaking of DA, I finally figured out what screwed him up. It was something I always suspected, but I got all the evidence I needed on his birthday earlier this month.

I wish I could tell him I get it now. That I would have understood if he hadn’t lied to me about it. That I would have loved his dumb ass anyway.

Today doesn’t look so sunny. I have my Coppertone on anyway. My one promise to myself was to get a tan this week. My arms are nice and bronze. But my legs are about six shades lighter and I’d like to remedy that somehow.

I still haven’t ruled out a trip to the Keys. Finances say sit your pudgy pork roast butt home, girl. But the absolute terror of not getting another day off is telling me to break the bank and do what my heart is telling me to do.

As for what the rest of me is saying to do, it’s sleep. I’m purposely not getting out of bed till after the time of day I normally dread the most.

Speaking of anyway, it’s raining and I’m thinking a matinee might be a nice way to spend the day. Yes, I think that’s definitely going to happen. If I could just get out of this bed first …

I figure I’ve never had a vacation before, so I should document it.

We’re in for “Drenching Rains” for the next three days. Cash is low here but I’d be willing to pony up for a couple nights in the Keys. Unfortunately I don’t have any desire to pay an arm and a leg just to get rained out.

The weekend is looking nicer. But the hotel prices are also doubled with Labor Day. So maybe staycation, it is.

It’s off to a great start, though. I just woke up. Normally I’d be on a call in a half-hour. But I will enjoy the silence instead.

I think I could like this “vacation mode” thing.

Even if I achieve nothing this week , perhaps that’s the point. I’ve been missing out all these years that I’ve never actually participated in this wonderful rite of passage. So so so so happy to kick back, watch “Too Cute” and let the clouds pass by …

I realize I have a double Stockholm syndrome going on here.

Escaping one area of my life for a week does not mean escaping the other. My captors are going from 50/50 custody to 0/100.

One of my boys just said the three magic words any girl wants to hear: “I got this.”

I’d give anyone for someone to say that at home, too.