Caterwauling

So tRumpy had the worst week ever. Which, the majority of the country has endured on a loop since the first week of November. So you won’t find me playing my teeny-tiny violin anytime soon.

Besides, I gave that shit up in the seventh grade when I mastered “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Which, given that we’re all singing “Tinkle Tinkle Little Czar; Putin Put You Where You Are,” it would be a fitting final song to play on this democratic Titanic on which our representatives of both major parties are valiantly rearranging the chairs.

In any event, here are my blessings that don’t include James Comey screwing tRumpy this week almost as bad as he f’ed Hillary …

(Got this shirt in D.C. back before Comey’s little October surprise.)

1. Had Sunday brunch with a dear friend from the West Coast whom I met when we lived in Alexandria, Va.  It’s like 13 minutes elapsed between visits, rather than 13 years.  

2. Got a great new, old addition to our work team. Super-excited about this one. Grateful beyond belief. Hoping it’s a long, prosperous relationship (again).

3. I got a day off! And got to see the Nats on Thursday!

Unfortunately, it was pouring halfway through. So we left early. But still, DAY OFF!

Plus I got a cool shirt that I love.

And some pics of Calvin Coolidge, which was my grandfather’s name too. It’s like he was there with us!

And I got an early-bird dinner at a great restaurant nearby. And it was good, unlike most meals I overpay for. I win Thursday.

Dude. Funnel cake. And my Nats keychain. 

4. I could have had tickets to see the Nats Friday. But great editorial had to prevail. And it did. I ain’t mad at that. Would rather shape/publish things I’m proud of than relax. (Not that there was any relaxing to follow it, unfortunately. But, details.)

5. Had Bloody Marys on the beach when a favorite former/current colleague. Well I had all the vodka. But still. Sushi and stimulating seaside conversation is the way to spend a Saturday. 

6. I stopped at a store to buy suntan lotion. And ran into a friend who recently had a baby. I was over the moon. Another colleague/friend with her mom and child. I took a couple pics for mom because she’d kick me ass if I didn’t. What a good day in my world. 

7. I did get back to the ballpark today. Gorgeous, breezy, sunny day.

Got to wear my new shirt.

They had a 50%-off spring training merch sale. Which was kind of annoying because all the Nats stuff was sold out and only Houston Astros wear was available. 

Although Screech was tossing out tons of shirts …?

They had some cute and sparkly Astros shirts that I liked, but I’m a Nats girl all the way.

Mom wondered why we never took Grampy to a Pirates game.

I think he was there at all the games we’ve seen in DC and WPB. And not as a giant president. I also think he’s ok that I give mom the experiences I didn’t have the time or money to give to him.  But damn, we miss him. 

With mom’s poor health, I didn’t want to wait till next year to do this. It cost a ton for me. But we ate well and got sun and saw good-looking men everywhere. What a treat, truly. 

I hope we can go to Bradenton next year. But i will be quite ok if I get back to the Ballpark of the Palm Beaches. No doubt. We saw the Mets and Astros. Maybe we will catch the Yankees or Marlins next year. 

How blessed I am to have the brand-new Nats spring training facility right in my backyard, so I could be part of the spring one. 

I am over the moon that I could see Ryan Zimmerman and Bryce Harper and Jason Werth in my last hometown and in my new one too. 

The people who work in the park are so nice. Most are from the DMV area. My favorite bartender is taking the AutoTrain home next week and will work the regular season with the Nats. 

In any event, it was a good week to be Goddess and a great week to be a Nats fan. I hope I am lucky enough to see the boys of spring again next year. And have plenty of planned and chance meetings with old friends along the way. 

So this happened (again):

?

I returned the last one within 24 hours of purchase. And here’s why.

This one’s a keeper. I managed to get all my stuff off my Time Capsule this time, so I don’t have to take the old iMac in for service. Now to not wait 10 years to return it to Apple, like I did with the G4 that lived in six different apartments with me before I offloaded it last year.

I should probably have anxiety about the purchase. It cost just less than a month’s rent (and yes, rent is THAT HIGH). But I’ve wanted one of these for close to a decade. And look, the world is going to end whether or not I have a computer that doesn’t suck, right?

It’s been 222 days since I was able to back up my iPhone. Funny how much of a luxury that felt like, connecting my phone to a working computer. I’d say it’s a first-world problem, but given the tinpot dictator who spends his weekends three miles up the road, I like to think of it as a “gone-bananas republic” problem.

I returned my computer. 

World is going to end with Trump in charge, I know. Might as well spend all my money now. 

But I couldn’t migrate all the shit on my Time Capsule to the new MacBook. Not enough room. 

And after crazy Odysseys to the Apple Store and Best Buy, I gave up. Dropped off my old G4 for recycling, the last remnant of the Veggie Patch era. Then offloaded the Mac after a BB salesman tried to get me to part with an extra grand. No thanks. 

Oh well. Maybe next year I’ll feel more secure. Doubt it though. 

I’ve waited my whole life for a MacBook. 

I won’t tell you that I cried. Big wet tears of joy. But you can imagine. 

All my friends in DC had MacBooks over a decade ago. They were all younger than me, getting paid better and working fewer hours in many cases. I always felt so inferior. 

This day means everything to me. 

My plan was to get a new phone. But I got a discount on this and couldn’t resist. 

It isn’t a thousand-inch TV. But it’s all I wanted. And that I can get rid of that stupid desk in the photo too? Even more priceless. 

Sitting here with two dead computers, two dying phones and a really old car. 

And, as usual, panicking over maybe taking advantage of a Black Friday sale to remedy one of the problems. 

I think of all the people who tell me to buy a MacBook or a Mercedes like it ain’t no thing. And the ones who fret whether they should buy the tesla or the lambo. And I’m like wow, who has that kind of security?

I keep this affirmation nearby. And it’s served me well, for the most part …

But does our heroine upgrade one lousy thing, or keep telling herself the paid-off stuff really isn’t that bad?

And does she unpack anything at home or at work … or does that mean jinxing the way things are?

Twice this year, I booked a stay in the Keys. Both times, had to cancel. 

Just booked the Keys for a third time. My treat for enduring this very attessful day. 

The day after the Melissa Etheridge concert, too. Go me, having a real vacation. 

Earlier this year, I lost out on a show at the local fancy concert hall. 

I had bought tickets but had to work through the event. 

I was pissed. And I was never quite the same afterward. 

So Melissa Etheridge is coming to town. Same place. I dared to buy tickets. 

Here’s to not losing another hundred bucks and another piece of my soul. 

Normally I’d opt to spend Friday at home. Not today. Went in early, hauled ass all day, and took what may be my last beach walk before being ripped away from the Ave. for the second time. 

Met a guy at the shore. I always meet people in this particular town. Nowhere else, though. My social life wilts beyond the downtown city limits. 

I was telling one of my boys recently that I never let my weight bother me much. Even at my biggest, 75 pounds ago. Even when I started this job, 47 pounds ago. Even now, when I honestly feel bigger than ever even though I’m obviously nowhere close to peak pudge. 

I thought about my appearance for a hot minute, when the guy said hi. Probably my last day wearing shorts and a Starbucks shirt over a bikini top. Gotta give a care where I’m going. But I’m happy with me. And I wish that were enough. 

As I had said to my friend, I wasn’t hurting for cute clothes or guys. I liked me well enough. Still do. People get that and are either intimidated by it … or want to be around it. 

So the guy introduces himself to me as Dave. Tan, nice smile, lives in Boca. Good hair. Maybe Italian. Probably Jewish. (Again, Boca.)

Wanted to walk with me for a while. (D’awwww.). Assured me he wasn’t crazy; just hoped to have a conversation with a friendly fellow local. 

Single, no kids. Very nice. Weak handshake, though, which bugs me. I have a firm one and expect not to crush a man’s hand. 

Funny how I decided in that instant that this wasn’t going anywhere. 

Nice chat, more or less. My walk back to Stockholm was longer than his. Another handshake (ugh) and I never looked back. 

I think I intimidated him anyway. I’m shy and quiet and unassuming … in the first five minutes. Then I’m strong and articulate and not afraid to show I’m smart and strong.  

Well except in certain company that’s made it clear my kind ain’t welcome here. Story for another never. 

In any event, I am always looking for that spark. Once in a blue moon, I even find it. But the idea of giving up even an inch or minute of my space to anyone less than fucking amazing is bothersome. 

Maybe nobody is that amazing. Fuck, maybe I’m not that spectacular, either. (Just ask that “certain company” who mindlessly asks me the same five questions every now and then without ever listening to the answer.)

But I’m not giving up on amazing and spectacular. And  even if it never comes, I’m not intetested in being distracted by anything else. 

Not anymore, anyway. I have enough unspectacular to last 10,000 lifetimes already. Present tense. 

So yeah. I am glad this came and went. Nice, pleasant, forgettable. I already am going to miss my existing lunch buddies. And happy hour specials. 

Wednesday nights at Smoke, I will miss you most of all. Free wine and cheap chicken-lettuce wraps give me life.  

One more Wednesday left. Trying not to return to peak pudge as I try to soak it all up since I may never get it again …

So basically with five lunch breaks left in the town I love, and about 47 restaurants I assumed before Monday that I’d still have time to try, I gots some eatin’ to do.

I ordered a salad from a place where Sia and I celebrated a happy hour or two. They decorate in Steeler everything for the fall season. So, feelin’ the love, right?

Well.

I could tell the gal wasn’t listening to me. I even said I’ll wait till she has time to focus to order. She insisted I order anyway while she cashed out someone else and made another person a cocktail.

But she did repeat my order back to me. So I waited.

Lucky me, a guy sits right next to me. There are maybe four people in the whole joint that seats 120. And he lights up cigarette after cigarette.

Now, we used to go there because we could smoke … in our smoking days. But it’s been a long time since I’ve had the urge. To go there OR to smoke.

Well naturally my order comes out fucked up. I mean, FUCKED. UP.

The server took it back to the kitchen. I ran after her to tell her I didn’t even want it. I mean, I had exactly 20 minutes for lunch because it’s a busy day. And I’d just spent the last 10 huffing secondhand Marlboro.

I could hear the kitchen guys yelling at her to LISTEN when a customer orders. They read the ticket right.

(Insert: I took Mom out for her birthday. We said absolutely no onions. The server showed us her pad where she underlined NO ONIONS. We got fucking double onions. I kid you not. The cooks only SAW the word onions. And I didn’t order the $25 dessert they were pushing since they’d probably put onions in that too.)

I’ve had quite enough of having to wait and pay and smile and be a good sport.

In fact, in my little notebook today, I wrote that it feels everyone’s job in corporate America is to be a good sport. First and foremost. The rest is so very secondary.

So I said no thanks. I only had so much time and I don’t have another 10 minutes. Gotta run.

And I did.

Went to one of the other 47 places I will miss. At this point I should have just gone to an event I had to skip because of how much there is to do today. The food was wonderful. Service left a lot to be desired. But getting what I wanted was glorious.

It’s too bad about the first place. The food looked BEAUTIFUL. Minus the dressing and the GALLON OF ONIONS on it. That I guarantee they would have just picked off. 

I notice when I’m leaving a city, everything starts to go wrong. Like it’s the universe putting its foot up your ass, Red Foreman-style, to make you not look back.

I will look back. I will pillar-of-salt look back. I will pine and do everything I can to come back. Just, not to these places that insist on shoving their onions in my face.

Yesterday was one of those days when I saw a bunch of colleague-types checking into Faceypages from Bermuda and Europe and others. Meanwhile I checked in at the grand opening of Wawa in Stuart.

To be fair, my experience was way cheaper. I won’t claim it was better and I don’t want to hear anyone play down their fun as it being too fast of a trip or not as fun as they made it look. Would rather they just say it was great and sucks to be you.

I remember thinking it was crazy of one of my places to send me to exotic locales. Mostly because it was very hard for me to pull it off financially. Eating one meal a day wasn’t fun either once I did get there.

But as the lovely Vitamin D put it into perspective for me, it was gracious of Big D to give up his spot for me. Give up his spot. Those words have echoed in my brain for 11 years. He did it for me. He picked me to represent him and everyone else.

I always took trips like that seriously. From no talking politics (honestly!) to always being “on,” even when my work shoes were off.

And for what it’s worth, I need to run back to Stuart today. And I will definitely be hitting Wawa again. I like it that much!

I’m going to buy something I forgot. Have been amassing a collection of sugar-skull decorations and cityscapes. Hot pink and black everywhere. For my next house.

I admit that I am not-nice to Mom sometimes, because I’m always buying HER decorations. Like, every weekend it feels. I always tell her that’s my retirement fund. My cardboard box will be festive for every season with things that are her taste. So it’s a big deal for me to come up with a new theme for my hope chest.

She said something that disturbed me the other day. She said she hopes she lives to see my next home because it’s going to be so well-coordinated.

That wasn’t all. She said, “You’re really going to fly when I’m gone.”

I don’t know about that. I mean, maybe. Possibly. I gots to get ME to Europe, that’s for sure. Unload the two storage units. Get rid of the clothes that don’t fit. Maybe buy some furniture or, better, a new car.

Uncle Tom, I think, was interested in giving us his car. But his daughter is giving it to HER daughter. The one whom he said never looked at him unless her hand was outstretched — looking for money. He worried that I still drive my grandfather’s and Mom doesn’t have a car anymore because of that.

The power of wills, people. Elaine gets it all.

Funny how my family was poor as fuck, but filled with love. I refused money when my family tried to offer it. I knew they were going without food to make sure I didn’t. Of course, they said my assumption was wrong. But it wasn’t. I know that now.

Now all Uncle Tom’s money will go to his ungrateful offspring. But Mom had his love. Somehow I think she got the better end of the deal, though.

Speaking of someone handing me money ($40 once a month, to be exact, during the 1990s), today would be Gram’s 89th birthday. The 17th one in heaven.

I was up most of the night. And doing math in my head. My mom was 42 when her mom died. The same age I am.

I’ve felt Gram’s absence every day. Mom was more of a Daddy’s girl and hasn’t been the same since we lost him 10 Novembers ago. But I was Gram’s favorite. 🙂

So yeah. I don’t know why some people get to have great experieces and money and prestige, but not all people. In some cases, I REALLY don’t. But I appreciate my little life. In fact, I need to appreciate it more.

I think that realization, and having time to DO it, makes me richer than most …