Caterwauling

I’m sure I’ve mentioned my father was a deadbeat. And when I did meet him when I was 18, he blamed my grandmother for telling him to not even bother being in my life. And even though I wanted to forge a relationship then, he said nah — we hadn’t had one for 18 years. Why bother now?

I commend my grandmother for her foresight into what a loser he was. I see my friend’s daughter going through the same thing with her baby daddy. We were joking that he probably expects to be thrown a parade today when the man hasn’t bought so much as a diaper in the six months that his kid has been in this world. My friend said she was going to the dollar-store section of Target to get him a plastic “No. 1 Dad” trophy. lol.

Meanwhile I have friends who are going to be amazing parents, whose little blessing just hasn’t been conceived yet. But oh, how they try. I mean, scientific intervention trying at all costs. And it makes me nuts that fathers like mine and dollar-store dumbass can just create life upon command.

Speaking of dumbasses, Whorothy is all over Facebook, shitting on TG’s page about her love for A Major Sex-Symbol Actor. If I know TG, it’s making him feel like shit with all her waxing poetic about all of the actor’s attributes. And his money. She should quit acting like said actor would even look at her homely, incoherent Crypt-Keeper-looking ass. Gawd.

It’s taking everything in me to not leave a comment to instruct the Crypt Keeper to go hang out with her homely kids and baby daddy. Not only that, but to also snark that all she can do is hope and pray that Hot Actor has vision problems like all the other men in her life. (I can confirm one of them does have bad eyes; the other, we just assume.)

Since this woman turns me into a mean asshole, let me indulge …

I’ve been wanting to ask if the youngest kid is even the baby daddy’s. The adults are as nondescript (and lookalike) as wallpaper paste, and the oldest kids look like their doppelgangers. The youngest, however, looks like he might be the milkman’s kid. I wonder if he’s TG’s but I don’t have balls enough to ask.

So anyway, in the spirit of Father’s Day, happy day to the poor suckers who are attracted to the Whorothys of the world and who love their kids (biologically theirs or not) and even do their damndest to support and love the psycho gold-digging whores who all too eagerly spread their legs for anyone who would look at them.

Happy day to all those amazing men who exist to prove all the girls like me wrong — that there really are real men out there who not only own up to their spilled seed, but who love the shit out of their kids every minute of every day of their lives. And the children’s mothers, too, but that should go without saying.

Happy day to the moms and grandmothers like mine who sent the deadbeats packing so they couldn’t add a layer of drama that we kids may never have recovered from.

Happy day to the grandfathers, uncles and other men who stepped in and showed us that biology does not a dad make.

An especially happy day to my grandfather up in heaven, for loving me like his own. And, if we’re honest, maybe a little more than his own, because that’s who I came from.

And maybe above that, the happiest day of all to the man I’m meant to be with. Whether we have kids or not, or whether he comes with one pre-made, I don’t care. Thank you for saving yourself for me and thank you for the incredible adventures we’re going to have.

Because, really, all these Father’s Day and Mother’s Day holidays should be just as applicable to those of us who are pet parents or otherwise decent human beings — having a child does not a good parent make. And as long as we keep being good to each other, these holidays are just as much for us as anyone.

Productive day. Cranked out five newsletters and two (so far) conference calls and have yet to do two more newsletters and at least two more calls before today is through.

I was crabby on Friday because I really needed to meet a friend at a certain time on Friday night, only to be severely delayed and I completely missed seeing him. He wants to try again tonight, as he was out of town this weekend and he has something of mine that I really need.

Will our intrepid heroine not miss yet another chance today? Time will tell. I’m not exactly bullish on the concept, but I’ll try.

It’s times like this that I remind myself that life is so much bigger than all this. Will the world end if these newsletters don’t get edited perfectly, brilliantly designed and tested/scheduled by some imaginary deadline that someone six generations before me decreed?

I guess I say all of this knowing that someone who was a big part of my world just had a baby yesterday. (Brilliant timing with Mother’s Day. Was that planned?) Cute kid, too. Reminds me of his dad and I never had anything but good times during the several-year friendship I had with the proud poppa.

I have other friends with child too, amid an ongoing baby boom. We had a boy baby boom here at work at this time last year; now it’s all my friends with their bouncing baby boy children (to be).

What’s funny is how hard it is to care about adults in need. But show us a sonogram and we all want to BUY ALL THE GIFTS. Because they are twee and cute and we can be part of the miracle of life without actually having to actively contribute to it.

Anyway, I’m still reeling that my friend got married, let alone is now a dad. He’s gonna be spectacular, by the way.

I guess I’m getting a twinge of nostalgia that everyone important to me from my past is going on to have massive, wonderful life events. And I ran away from it all, hoping to find my own down here. And like Charlie Brown on Halloween, all I got was a rock.

It’s a rock at the beach, don’t get me wrong. But I am wondering whether I should go back and see if some of the magic taking place far north of here can rub off on me a little bit.

Not for the kid part, per se. But for the “hold on long enough and your dreams will come true after all” part.

My turn is coming, whatever and whenever that may be. And it’s gonna be a fairy tale to end all fairy tales when it comes. And I’ll look back on this time of smiles I smile (and those do really come easily — I am overjoyed for the people I love) for other people, and look forward to them beaming when it’s time for me to have some wonderful news for a change.

Oh, I just want to vomit with all the Mother’s Day postings on Facebook. I “liked” as many photos as I could stomach before shutting down the iPad and grabbing a shower, in hopes that this would be the day I finally escape my own mother on a weekend and go grab a bagel somewhere.

Of course she made me breakfast while I was in the shower. And I’ve been yapping for four weeks about going and getting a bagel. By myself. I don’t get breakfast any other day except those that I intend to sneak out of house unaccompanied. Which is a sin, I tell you, a sin!

I know, worse problems to have, right?

Mom got gifts and a big day out yesterday. And of course she wants to know what’s on for today without actually asking or demanding. You know what I want? What I want every weekend. Peace and time at the beach. Considering all I have to do is take the elevator down to the first floor and walk a few hundred feet, you’d think I get the beach all the time. But she’s frail and can’t walk and is just a delicate little flower, so we always end up bypassing the beach so I get to drive her to Wal-Mart and Dollar Tree and Dollar General and Winn-Dixie (ugh. Worst grocery store ever) and Big Lots.

And by the time Monday rolls around (and you can assume I feel the same way about being a working stiff as anyone else in this world), it’s almost a relief. Until about 5 p.m. Monday when my patience gets tested like it does every day at that time, and any amount of calm I’d previously possessed gets a bullet put into its head.

In any event, that’s about when I realize my mom is all I’ve got. And while I want to shoot to kill everyone on Facebook who’s dragging their mom out for brunch and gets to deposit her at her home while I’ve had mine living rent-free in mine for seven years (at least she cooks and cleans. Although I’d prefer cash), she’s the only one I can talk to about all the characters and drama in the so-called life I’ve made.

So, today I say, hey thanks for not being able to keep your legs closed and getting knocked up at 16 (that was sarcastic in case anyone missed that) and thank God you had good parents who helped to take care of me even though we were dirt poor and they died penniless and sick instead of enjoying an albeit meager retirement and now I have a load of goddamned guilt that keeps me from kicking your ass out although I do derive great pleasure in my ability to share my disgust with just a simple snarky phrase.

But I do say thanks for letting me say what I have to say and keeping on keeping on. Because if I were alone in having to deal with all the bullshit in my world outside this crumbling palace of an apartment, I’d be fired or dead or on drugs or some combination thereof.

So I’ll keep trying not to scream as she sings-songs in baby talk to the cat all day and night and keeps about a thousand empty boxes in my dining room “for when we have to move” even though we’ve been here four years and I cry every time I have to lift up the iced tea and move the paper towels aside to get to the box that sits on top of the toilet paper every time I need a fresh roll.

I’ll keep going back to work every day to afford this palace so that princess can continue living in it. And I’ll be grateful for the free therapy she provides and the good comfort food she gives me to make it all better in her own little way of trying to make herself useful to me.

And that’s more than I can say about anyone else in my world. So, happy Mudder’s Day, mom. I could have done a hell of a lot worse in that department. And if I didn’t have you balancing out everyone and everything else, there’s no telling what might have become of me before now.

I thought I was getting fired today, but really I just got more work. Rather, more steps in my processes.

I got to thinking about my good friend who got laid off in January. I was much calmer when he was here. Granted things were very different pre-January. But still.

Maybe I just wanted to be seen as cool and calm and gracious and charming and all that bullshit. But really, having lunch with him as close to daily as I could really had a soothing effect on me.

Now I scarf down pretty much everything but the TV at my desk and totally raid the chocolate supply I find in my friend’s office down the hall. Dinner, yo.

We still talk often. But it’s not the same. And if ever there were a time I could use a calming influence, it’s now. I suppose a well-timed text conversation, with the only person who understands AND the only one who won’t repeat a word I say, will have to do.

For as hard as I work, my lifestyle doesn’t reflect it. Sure, I have a condo at the beach with water all around. Sounds magical, right?

But I also only have two closets (one for mom and one for me), and my closet is so saturated with the smell of mold that I have to keep all my good clothes in the living room.

Plus, she came to me six years ago with all her earthly possessions in cardboard-box form. So my water-surrounded oasis is floor-to-ceiling crap in the mirrored dining-room area.

Yes, mirrors on three walls. It makes me NUTS to see all this shit every day of my life.

The windows are terrible and the hurricane shutters don’t work. The electricity bills are astronomical and it’s always so fucking hot in here. (Except right now when we’re going through a cold front — the winds are worse when you’re up this high and I’m typing in a coat and Uggs and I still can’t get warm.)

Anyway, as I said, lifestyle doesn’t reflect the ZIP code. I have two rattling old-ass cars that I have to trust to carry me a minimum of 60 miles every single day. I shop at Ross if/when I need something to wear or for the house. I live at dollar stores. The only real splurge we have around here is eating. And even then, momma sure knows how to “scare up” a great meal for next to nothing.

So when I do break out of the norm and order something for myself online, I ALWAYS take advantage of the “include gift message” option. I just ordered K-Cups and was balking at the price, as I always do. So just before I hit the order button, I told myself in the message section:

“You work hard and you deserve all the good things coming your way. Take a moment to celebrate yourself today and every day.”

I know I will use every last K-Cup and will enjoy them all. But even though this is a necessity on the level of electricity or AA batteries (*cough*), it’s still hard to part with money when we need so much and I just can’t provide it right now and might be running out of time to do so.

This is me being gentle with myself. But I know when I open that box and wonder what possessed me to spend all that money, I’ll be reminded that I already gave myself permission to enjoy it. So now all that’s left to do is enjoy it.

The folks at BlogHer issued a Valentine’s Day challenge to write a love letter to someone or something — whether you’re happily (or otherwise, I’m sure) coupled or happily (or otherwise) single.

I did get a Valentine this year from someone unexpected. It made my week. It really did. The people I expected would at least wish me a happy day from their safe distance, well, yeah. But for someone out of the blue to think of me and even send a card? Mind. Blown.

In any event, I’ve been meaning to say hello to my Someone — that nebulous being I’ve never met or maybe I have and just don’t know it yet. So, here’s a belated love note to him.

Dearest Someone,

It’s another year closer to our happily — if not ever after, then happily for what I hope will be a good long while. Because we deserve it.

It’s another year in which we are learning and growing and maybe even growing more frustrated that our paths haven’t yet crossed in a significant way, if at all.

I am confident that, even at our age, we’re still enduring some growing pains … and that we aren’t ready to build an eternity on an unsteady foundation of job stresses and other turmoil that we would probably be taking out on each other if the universe had put us together during this critical period of both disappointment and, with it, the enlightenment that follows.

As such, if you find yourself in the “ready to give up” mode that pops into my brain a little more often than I’d like to admit, please don’t. I’m still here, learning about the types of people and characteristics I do and don’t want in my life … and how to be a better person myself.

While I often say I’ll free up my evenings and holidays for when I have someone for whom to free them up, let’s face it. I don’t know how. As such, I (albeit weakly) remind myself that I’m not at a place right now where I CAN’T bring home the stress of the day. And you don’t deserve that.

While I know you’ll be able to make me see the world with clearer, and certainly happier, eyes, I do know you wouldn’t love me right now as much as I know you would otherwise. I look forward to being in a place where I can switch off the world and focus solely on you.

I imagine you face some of the same challenges, and that you also like me fill your rare free time with as many friends and adventures as you can to keep your emotional heart as healthy as you know how.

In the meantime, we will continue finding happiness in ourselves so that we can magnify each other. I don’t believe in having someone complete you — I want someone 100% actualized and I want to BE 100% actualized. If we can’t be content with ourselves, then we will spend a lifetime (or however long we are allotted) seeing only the not-so-attractive things in each other with which we haven’t come to terms in ourselves.

So, my dear Someone. I have a lot of work to do, both for a paycheck and within myself. Next year I expect to be able to finally be able to talk with you in person. And, I hope, much sooner than that.

Until then, I’ll be getting ready for that day. I know you will be too.

Love,
Goddess

Took mom out to dinner tonight. Nothing fancy; just a place that’s a step and a half above McDonald’s. (And 100% healthier.)

I was sort of annoyed that an eight-person family pushed their foreign-speaking way in front of me at the cash register when I was calling Mom over to stand in front of me. (And by “sort of annoyed,” I don’t mean “sort of.”)

About this time an elderly gentleman with bright blue eyes and a wonderful smile came over and asked if we were the end of the line. I was just debating whether to let him in front of me (as I usually do — not for rude-ass families but almost always for the generation I respect) when Mom suggested he jump in front of us.

He did, but not without some protest. And Mom pointed out to me that his arms looked exactly like my grandfather’s. Which, I haven’t seen since he died in 2006, but she was right.

She had big tears in her eyes and I felt like I should do … something. He was dressed exactly like my Grampy would have dressed. Same bright blue eyes and kind smile. Same fantastically thick hair. I wondered if he were a vet like my grandfather, too.

In my head I said a prayer that this guy doesn’t go to the V.A. Hospital like my grandfather did, since his idiot doctors killed him with their ineptitude and neglect. I prayed for this man’s health and well-being.

And out of nowhere, I blurted out to the cashier, “I’m buying his meal.”

He looked surprised and confused. People are not nice down here. I had a guy yesterday thank me for being courteous to him because South Floridians are assholes in general. Meanwhile I’d thanked the guy for being kind to me too.

Anyway, he tried to protest but you don’t win fights like that with me. 🙂 He tried to hand me money but I wasn’t having it.

I explained that something about him reminded me of my Mom’s father, and it would make me happy to do something nice for him. He looked around for him, I guess, and I said oh it’s just us. (I didn’t want to say that he’s been gone six-and-a-half years. I figured I’d let him think he just wasn’t in the room with us. Which, I’d suggest he probably was.)

Of course with my lovely (bad) restaurant karma, the order got lost for a while. Mom got to talking to him. He told her he has cancer. He was given 18 months to live … 20 months ago.

He later told me (as Mom was in hysterics and she went to hide at a table) that he’s 89. I told him he gets around better and has more spunk than my mom. You could tell he liked her — he was saying how pretty she was, like three times. 🙂

His wife was waiting in the car. I can only imagine the stories he had to tell her about us!

Anyway, we got our food eventually and he went on his merry little way. He was cute and had asked me if he could run and get his “pop” from the self-serve machine while I waited. Sounded just like Grampy, down to the “pop” and the sweet-little-boy spirit.

After he left, we pretty much sat there and cried through our meals. I know Mom was missing Grampy hard, and I was a bit too. But I was thinking about our friend — his name is Russell, just like my grandfather’s big brother who just died a couple of months ago, but Uncle Russ was a mean asshole — and just so very sad about his health and just how we would never have gotten to know him if I hadn’t decided to buy his meal because he reminded me so much of Grampy.

I normally don’t talk about the nice things I do for others. And I’m not looking for a pat or anything else like that. I guess I just want to record the “God moment” I had with this wonderful, wonderful man.

At one point he looked at me and said, “Wow, you are so young.” I laughed because I feel so goddamned old — work and mom and life and men are driving me to an early grave, I swear it.

But, he’s right you know. He’s 89 and I’m 38. If I make it to that age, and healthily at that, it’ll be a fucking miracle. And not at the rate I’m going.

We thought about his wife in the car, how she’s probably scared to death of losing him and probably thanking God for every day extra that she gets with him.

That’s living, friends. That’s going to meet your maker and saying, “I had it all; it was a good life.”

I guess I wish I could say that I met him and saw that the good guys win in the long run. But if he has cancer, I guess not.

Maybe it was just as simple as a reminder that our loved ones may be gone but are never far away and that there are people right here and now who would benefit from a simple kindness from us that we would have otherwise shared elsewhere.

I don’t know. But I do know that meeting him (at a restaurant I never go to, and one that has locations much closer to me — why on earth did I drive all the way out there if not for this reason?) was meant to change me in some way.

God bless you, Russell. Thanks for crossing my path today, and my mind for a long, long time to come.

Found out today is a friend’s last day here at Ye Olde Alligator/Pig/Armadillo/Coyote/Croc/Frog Farm.

She wasn’t employed here but instead for another company that also squats in this space. I’m going to miss her. She is leaving of her own accord — returning to a career she used to have that she loved. So that makes me happy.

I’ll miss her constantly nagging me to take my breaks. That everybody above me sees the light of day and the light of evening, too.

I started smoking again so I could get some “me” time. That counts, right?

Anyway, the first two friends I made here are now gone.

More than ever, I really really really miss my Ye Olde Investor Ranch family. We weren’t a just team — we were family. And still are. And will always be.

And I’ll never stop striving for that feeling again.

Was just trying to write some ridiculous Happy Thanksgiving-type of message for my customers while half-listening to the daily marketing call. My mind wandered, as it tends to do. (Imagine how much I could achieve if I weren’t in a daydream most of every day.)

A memory from a recent outing came to mind. My friend had wandered off and a male acquaintance came out of nowhere and walked up to say hi.

We talked for a few minutes and wondered aloud why we had never hung out or actually become friends. I’d never thought about it. (I’m finding that’s a pattern these days.)

Anyway, we did the whole promise to hang out at some point. Which, he was tipsy and I was sober, so I imagine he forgot within five seconds and, well, I imagine I can tap him on LinkedIn if the mood strikes.

Which, normally it wouldn’t. But …

He hugged me goodbye after our very brief talk. And kissed me on the lips. Which, no big deal — that’s how I greet and say goodbye to most of my male friends. 🙂 But, wow. It was … probably not supposed to be as good as it was.

I had forgotten about that until now. And will forget about it again, I’m sure. But after spending a year dicking around with someone who would rather imprison himself than admit maybe I get under his skin a little, it was a nice reminder that not only am I still alive inside, but people actually are well-aware of me being alive on the outside as well.

And yes, he’s single. …

It’s been a great weekend, minus that speeding ticket I got on Friday night. Who knew that going 85 in a 55 is frowned upon? See, my problem was that I kicked out my staff early in preparation for Hurricane Sandy. (Which mostly turned out to be a non-event.)

Word to the wise? If you want to stay safe in a hurricane, MOVE TO FLORIDA. Yes, ponder the irony.

Irony also exists in the fact that our cops and firemen were on the evening news the night before, telling us that if winds exceeded 45 mph, don’t even bother calling them. You get yourself into a jam, YOU figure it out.

So why the fuck weren’t these assclowns at home when I was trying to get my own happy ass home (to watch a marathon of “Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids Edition”)?

I told the cop I should have worked till 8 like I usually do — nobody pulls me over when I’m going 85 THAT late!

I deserved that ticket. But damn, it hurts to think about ALL THAT MONEY. That, and the fact that I have so many tickets from this year alone that I can’t do anything but go the speed limit for a LONG LONG TIME.

Oh well, the real point of this entry is to say that YES, it has been a great weekend. Had a lovely lovely alcoholic brunch yesterday with one of my nearest and dearest. Which was completely worth the swim we had to take across the parking lot, since we decided to drink our breakfast on the ocean.

And I had a wonderful night, too. Spent it with my favorite local boy. (*waving smelling salts for those playing along at home*) I don’t know … I think we might finally have this “friend” thing down pat.

I had such a good time. Seriously, I really really really enjoyed myself. And I was honest about a few things that have been troubling me. But now that I’ve had the chance to say them, I feel like I am finally at peace. And that we can, if we do continue being friends — which I sincerely hope we do — move forward from the same place.

I may be severely behind in my work, but on a personal level, I could not be happier with all the progress that took place in just the space of one day.

Thank you, universe. Maybe not so much for the ticket, but for giving me the glue known as friends to put this Humpty Dumpty back together again.