Monthly Archives: December 2013

I Need Bail.

I have the most awesomest (I’m aware that awesomest isn’t a word) boss ever.  🙂  She, my other coworker, and I were discussing silly, crazy boys with mommy issues (perfect Monday morning conversation) and she offered to be my bail-out should I need it.  Just text her and she’ll call with a work emergency.  Crazy thing is, in my line of work, a work emergency is very believable.  Some things that have happened recently that have required immediate attention:

  1. Kid caught with marijuana at school
  2. Kid attacked foster parents 4 times (not same kid as above)
  3. Baby born and needed placed
  4. Emergency meeting 2 hours away

I apologize if you’re a previous date and you’re reading this and I’ve left said date with a work emergency.  I’ve done it before and I will so totally do it again.  Why?  Because men who make dehumanizing and sexist remarks, take uneaten food from another person’s plate, look 5+ years older than his online profile picture, and/or live in his parents’ basement with several ferrets and cats make me want to vomit and I’d rather do that in the comfort of my own space (you know, since I don’t actually have a home).

So now I have a bail-out.  Just text and she’ll call.  I have the most awesomest boss ever.

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Renting BS and Period Tracker.

I found out this morning that my landlady is moving in with her boyfriend.  I rent the lower level of the townhouse.  I don’t have a bedroom or full bath.  I just have a space and a half bath.  Rent is cheap which is why I’m here.  She’s talked about the possibility of moving in with her bf, but has never officially told me that plans have been set and a move is happening.  She still hasn’t.  But, her ex-husband is here for the holidays and they were yelling at each other (per usual) and she said, “I need this place in showing condition for renters!”  So, she’s apparently moving.  What does that mean for me?  Do I have to move, too?  Is she subletting and making my living here a stipulation of the new renters?  I’m a bit pissed about the situation.  If I need to move, she needs to f*cking tell me.  I dread the thought of moving.

On another note, I have a period tracker (there’s an app for that).  According to said app my cycle averages 32 days.  The “normal” average is 28 days.  I guess I should be thankful that my periods are more spread out than the average woman’s.  I’ve been keeping track of my menses for some time but have never seen a true pattern.  And really, there isn’t a pattern.  My cycle has ranged from 25 to 35 days since April.  If I were to plot my number on a bell curve, I would see my averages… According to my calculations, my mean is 30.5, which rounds up to 31 days per cycle.  My median is 30.5, which again rounds up to 31 days per cycle.  And then my mode is 30 (2 of my cycles lasted 30 days).  Not sure how the app figures my average cycle is 32 days.  Whatever.  Regardless of my cycle average, periods freaking suck.

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Stuck Words.

There are words, sentences, pleas that I would like to spew at my ex’s family.  But I cannot.  At least not right now.  There are different words for his extended family, but to his mother and sister there are certain things they should know and understand.  These are the words that are stuck:

You take him for granted.  You two talk about being used and abusd and yet you don’t even realize that you are the ones using and abusing him.  Sister, you leave your children with him all the time.  You talked about how your cousin shouldn’t’ve left her son with him while her mother was dying in the hospital, and yet every night you drive away from home leaving him there with YOUR children.  I understand that your life was a living hell with your husband, but that does not give you the right to leave your brother to raise your children while you slink down the road to whore yourself away for the drugs you so desperately desire.  Mother, you invite drama and chaos into your home and create calamity among your family.  You say you hate the conflicts, and yet you embrace conflict like an old friend and spread it around as though it is an irrisistable delight.  I can see your eyes light up when you tell me that so-and-so said or did such-and-such and how terrible said such-and-such is.

Can you guys not see what you are doing to him?  You complain that he’s such an ass all the time, but guess what? You’re treating him like an ass!  Remember the golden rule?  Treat others as you’d want to be treated?  He has such great love in his heart for those he cares about.  He doesn’t complain about never having a free night.  He doesn’t buy into the drama.  He simply let’s that roll off his shoulders because he cannot do anything about it.  But can’t you see that he is a broken man?  He has his own hurts and turmoil and you two can’t even see it!

Why do you think I broke up with him?  Because of that slut, Amy? No.  Because he’s an ass? Partially.  But ultimately I broke up with him because I knew that he needed me to be the bad guy.  He couldn’t bring himself to break my heart.  I came to realize that being the cause of my pain was too much for him.  So I took it upon myself.  I did not want to break up with him.  I love him.  I love him so much it hurts!  He needs to heal.  He needs time.  And it’s not from all this recent shit either.  This is stuff from years and years ago, long before I even came along.  You know he hasn’t seen his kids since he left his ex-wife, right?  And you know that woman has been withholding phones calls from him, right?  You know his heart breaks when she does that, right?  Could you imagine not being able to see or talk to your child because some bitch ass woman thinks she’s better than you?  I understand that he needs to deal with his stuff in his way and in his time.  He couldn’t meet my needs and our needs because he can’t even meet his own.  And you two aren’t helping either.

I talk alot about hearts breaking.  Have you ever truly felt that pain?  You know, that pain that literally, physically feels as though someone has reached through your chest and squeezed your heart with both hands? Tried to shred it? Twisted your heart and stabbed it with sharp fingernails?  Have you ever felt that?  I feel that everyday when I think about him and the pain he is going though.  The pain you two can’t seem to comprehend.

Don’t be surprised when he just ups and disappears.  Don’t be surprised when he decides to put himself first for once in his life.  Don’t be suprised when your selfishness drives him away…  He’s already starting his escape. Can’t you feel it?  Why do you think I’m always offering to watch the kids or volunteering to be available if you guys need me?  Because I know you are using and abusing him.  You take him for granted.

I love him.  When he hugged me the other day, I felt like I was home.  I cry all the time because I feel so lost and alone without him near.  He needs his time.  He needs his space.  He needs to figure out his stuff before he completely falls apart.

Please.  Please, please stop this madness.

I just rambled all that out with no real process… There’s so much I’d like to say. Obviously.

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The NY Times has a quiz online that you can take and it’ll tell you which area in the US you most likely have an accent from…  That sentence seems overly complicated.  Some of the questions are about pronunciation, others are about phrases/terms that you use.  This is a snapshot of my results:


I’ve lived all over the place, including overseas.  My parents are from the midwest.  So, I’m not really surprised by this result.

Sidenote that has NOTHING to do with this: I really dislike people using my bathroom when they have their own bathroom in the house… The only room I have with a door is my half bath.  Use your own damn bathroom. Thanks.

Anyway, have fun with the quiz thingy!  🙂

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Aunt D is gone.

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Today’s Daily Prompt challenges us to describe the most important person in our lives.  I’ll call my bestie “Anne” in this post.

I once wrote a story about how my very best friend and I met as a college assignment.  During the summer of 1998, Anne had moved to the base where we went to school.  This was the summer between 8th and 9th grade.  We were 14.  I was late to youth group that night and our youth leader was about to start some crazy three-legged race/tag game.  We got paired up.  She was wearing JNCOs and a tight black shirt.  I was wearing some unfashionable getup with turquoise socks.  Ha!  Sometimes two people just click.  We became instant friends and have been close throughout the years.  Here are some facts about Anne (and some about us):

  1. She was born 1 month and 10 days before me.
  2. She is an Army brat.
  3. She has really pretty hair.
  4. She has an amazing smile.
  5. She is married.
  6. She has two boys and another boy on the way.
  7. She lives in a state that I love.
  8. She loves Jesus.
  9. She’s a lightweight. 😉
  10. She has a sister.
  11. She has two sister-in-laws.
  12. She has two nieces and two nephews.
  13. Her favorite color is blue.
  14. She texts me in the middle of the night all the time and I don’t care.
  15. We can talk for hours on the phone.
  16. She lives about 13 1/2 hours from me.
  17. Since high school we haven’t lived in the same vicinity.
  18. When she texts, I usually get 6 or more messages at once.  🙂
  19. She is an amazing writer.
  20. She loves her crocs.
Here are reasons why I cherish Anne:
  1. When I have a problem, she listens to me and gives me wonderful advice.  Ex: When my ex and I were having problems, she gave me her perspective on the problem and her opinion as to what I should do.  But she also assured me she would support whatever I decided to do.
  2. She lets me bitch.  Ex: This goes along with the one above.  When I’m pissed, she let’s me rant and rave.
  3. She takes my side.  Always.  Ex: She supports my decisions.  When I was first dating my ex, she just loved him.  When things went south, she was mad just as much as I was.  When I call with a problem, she takes my side.  When I’m excited, she’s excited.
  4. She is very thoughtful.  Ex: A few months ago I received a random present in the mail.  In it was a bit of soil from the place we first met.  That just meant the world to me.
  5. She makes time for me.  Ex: Generally she calls me when she’s driving to/from various places.  She does a lot of running around with one of her kiddos and while I know she must be exhausted, she calls and chats.  And when she’s at home and doesn’t feel like doing housework, she’ll call. 🙂  And she takes my calls at anytime.

Anne is an amazing woman.  She’s a great mom and wife.  She’s my absolute bestest friend in the whole world wide.  I love her.


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Death and Dying.

Talking about death is generally not easy.  My ex’s aunt is dying.  Apparently she’s been dying for 5 years and no one, including herself, knew.  At the beginning of November she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cancer… don’t ask what kind.  Because I don’t know.  I’m guessing lung cancer (this is a good time for me to seriously consider quitting smoking, and although I don’t smoke much, it’s still a good idea).  Anyway, the first time I saw Aunt D when she first became ill, she was weak and sleeping all the time.  The next time she couldn’t walk in a straight line.  I made sure (or someone made sure) to walk with her if she got up from her recliner because she would turn left without knowing it and keep walking towards the left.  Between the left-faces and weakness, she was surely gonna faceplant into a wall or the floor.  The next time I saw Aunt D she was in the hospital.  She had lost most of her hair.  She was so very thin.  Aunt D was mostly alert and interacted with others.  The next time I saw Aunt D she had been moved to the hospice care unit. She was awake sometimes, but sleeping most of the time.  She didn’t want anything to eat and she kept trying to take her oxygen mask off.  She didn’t talk much, but she enjoyed having people hold her hand and read to her from her Bible.  Today was probably my last visit with Aunt D.  She slept the entire time.  I could sense her breaths becoming further and further apart.

When a loved one is dying, I can’t help but remember the good times.  Isn’t that what death is about in some ways? Reflection?  I remember Aunt D’s long, flowing hair.  Her bright smile and cute laugh.  She loves(d?) to cross stitch various things and was always doing something crafty.  While she could be bossy, she enjoyed the company of others.  (I can’t figure out if I’m supposed to use past or present tense…)

Every time my phone rings from either my ex or one of his family members calling, I have a mini anxiety attack… You know that tingly feeling that starts at the top of your chest and plummets to your stomach?  That.  There’s really no reason to fear death because it’s natural.  And I don’t fear death because I have been saved through grace…  Still, it’s sad and hard and not easy to hear that someone you love is no longer here…

I feel like I have no train of thought…

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