Anything Goes

A Partial Pictoral

2007-03-16T22:49:00.000-04:00

After my trip to Knoxville and Atlanta, I returned with two new necklaces and three new charms, bringing me to a total of four necklaces and eight charms that I wear regularly. From left to right: The eight-pointed star which my aunt sent me from California. The eight-sided star is the symbol of the Goddess Inanna. A red (ruby) Swarovski crystal heart I bought at my first BlogCon in Kansas city which is Nate's birthstone, a diamond solitaire which belonged to my Ma-Ma, Bast (Egyptian Goddess and protector of cats, women, and children), the pentacle with celtic scroll that my cousin bought me on my trip to LA and TX, the blue necklace which has the symbol of Cancer on it which belonged to my Grandma, who was also a Cancer like Nate, the purple goddess pendant and the sign of the Scorpio. A close up of the Star of Inanna Last Friday, Ron asked me how I wanted my ceiling textured. I told him, "Surprise me." When I walked in on Sunday and went to my bedroom to see what he had done, I found this: If you can't tell, that's the 8 pointed star of Inanna. T-Bird looked at me and said, "Wow, someone's observant..." My friend Lisa, said the same thing. I can't really describe the feeling when I saw it. It was more than just a symbol that my Lady was with me and would always be with me and had not forsaken me, but that someone who barely knew me, who didn't know me 6 weeks ago would care enough to try and please me by using the pattern of my own necklace in the ceiling, without knowing what it actually meant. Then there was the way Ron acted when I questioned him about it. I could tell he was nervous about what he had done, afraid that I wouldn't like it, to the point he just continued working and didn't look at me until I pointed out that it was my necklace that he had used as the pattern. I guess the other guys had asked about the odd pattern as well because he told me to show them my necklace and they both looked at us strangely. Maybe he was afraid I would figure out how much time he spent looking at my chest... LOL! Regardless, it really meant a lot to me. A lot. It gave me the warm fuzzies and still does.

After 700 Posts...

2006-08-22T12:08:00.000-04:00

It's time to find a new home. I find myself becoming as personal as I probably ever have around here with more to lose, therefore, I have set up a Wordpress account and am in the process of moving "Anything Goes" to her new home. Some posts will be password protected, but probably not all. I will e-mail those of you I have addresses for but if I miss you or if I don't even know who you are, you may e-mail me at nanner.peach@gmail.com for further instructions. My new blog home will be blackpunkin.wordpress.com. This post will self-destruct in 5 seconds. Good luck.

Read the Manual

2006-08-20T23:12:00.000-04:00

When one gets a cell phone one should read the owner’s manual instead of attempting to have their daughter interpret symbols she cannot see. But thank goodness for my parents’ trip to Maine they invested in a cell phone. My Mo was complaining because she said the phone hadn’t been activated. I told her I would call the number to see if it would ring in. She could hear my house phone ringing her cell phone but the cell phone wasn’t ringing. She said, "See, this thing isn’t working, it just isn’t working, why isn’t it working?" I said, "Well, is it powered up correctly?" "Oh, well, no, it’s not on" "Mom, turn the phone on." *Sigh* "I don’t understand what this button does. It says "settings" and then it says "silent" and "meeting" and "normal," what does that mean?" "That is how you set how you want your phone to ring." "Well, which one do I want?" "Normal." "Well, what is this line with the line through it?" "I don’t know, Mom. Did you read the manual?" "I really haven’t had time." "You really need to read the manual, Mom." *Sigh* ... and hour and a half later... "Mom, you may not have service out there in the mountains *BFE!*" "But, I gave them my zip code and that is how they are tracking my minutes." "That doesn’t mean that you have service." "But, they did it by my zip code." *Banging head against keyboard* "I still don’t know what this line with a line through it is." "Mom, maybe you should just read the manual." "Well, I’m just going to have to get out my magnifying glass to read the instructions. They print them too small." "Mom, have a great trip."

Everything is OK

2006-08-20T09:25:00.000-04:00

AZ has returned. I spoke to him last night and this morning. He seems tired but in an evened out decent mood. No finger pointing has ensued and I just feel better knowing he's back even though I was wondering if I would be. Relationships are complicated. I had a job interview on Friday and I have another one tomorrow. Although the peeps seemed nice, although highly Republican, the thought of moving from one sit down job to another is just almost too much to bear. Not that I've ever been cut out for a desk job, but as I get older the more kinetic I seem to become. And set in my ways. I can sit for hours and bead or write, but I'm also free to smoke and play loud music and move around if I so desire. I think that is it. I like to move around a lot. I always have. I'm constantly up and down. Aside from all of the problems I faced last week, I felt much better doing sales and pulling t-shirts and basically, running my ass off. I'm happier, freer, and more confident. I really have to give this some thought...

Der Ain't Nuttin' In the World

2006-08-18T23:06:00.000-04:00

Like a tequila drunk. Best damn drunk on the planet. just ask my Texiss friends. That is "Texiss." I spelled it right, shut up. Me, and Kevin, that's the head printer, and his girlfriend, Terri, wo is kind enough to pull shirts out fo the dryer for us, decided that my offer of a a margarita was too good to pass up. Not to mention our Texiss fajitas, pronounced as "fa-hee-tees." That is West Virginia Mexican. fa-hee-tees. So, I talked to the ole Master and Commander today. That would be fuckin' AZ, for those not paying attention, I need to be fucking nicer but I been mad since that mofo told me I told him that fuckin' order worng. What the fuck ever. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. Goddamn he hurt my feelings. mother fucker. I hate when he does htat. I told the son of abithc Id sell the fuckin' shirts. I said., "Do you trust me?" And for that fuckin' lackidaisial, unconvincing, half0hearted, mumbled "yes" i would have prefered he said, fuck no. Puhleasse. He don't trust anyfuckingbody. And it's his own damn fault. I fuckin' hate it. He has skills, mad 6th sense skills and he still trusts the wrong fuckers... what the fuck? I mean, WHAT THE FUCK??? FUCK THAT SHIT!!! FUCK THAT NOISE!!! I told yall the mofo didn't get the checks out on time, right? Yeha, so ya know, I've been there. I've needed money, I depend on my paycheck, so this morning, ya know, I call and ask, yo, do ya''ll need any money to help get you throuh the weekend? Only one did so I wrote a check out of my personal account. Fuck it. I figure fuck, he'll pay me back, I know the fuckin' boss. In myview, as the fuckin' quasi, fuckedup office manager, it may be my business to make sure my workers want to show up on Monday! AZ,well he told me he didn't want me floating that money, blah, blah fuckin' blah, WTF ever. I told him, it was, ya know, a special circumstance, it's not going to happen every week and it fuckin' sure as hell is not like I used his fuckin' money. I did it out of the goodness fo my fuckin' heart. He said he had asked the computer guy to drop by and give out some cash, okay, fine and fuckin' dandy, but he didn't tell me that shit. Fuck that noise. When I talked to the computer guy I told him what AZ said and he's like, "who else is supposed to take care of this?" As in, AZ really needed to get his head out of his ass. I coulnd't agree more. I understand but I don't understand. All I know is, the mother fucker ahs been pretty critical of how I've handled things. Well, I did the best I could given the fact I was hog tied, blindfolded, had cotton stuffed in my nouth and dropped into a hot vat o greese. I can't believe he had the nerve to tell me I had trust issues... pot. kettle .black. Look in the mirror asshole. Not to mention, I still fuckin' love him... ya'll know fo rsure now, I'm nuts. Crazy as a bedbug. whatever, I' drunk. I'm goin' ta bed.

Mojo Risin'

2006-08-17T23:14:00.000-04:00

I know, two posts in one night... Just as an aside. . . remember how I’ve said that Sailor Boy and Mr. Catholic always make fun of my religion? Well, last Friday, Sailor Boy and I were trading barbs because there is only so much I can take before I start getting snarky and hateful. He tossed out a challenge. If I were so "tight" with my spirits and the Summerland world, then I should put my money where my mouth is and use my mojo to get him a new job. I said, Fine, Sailor Boy, and if I do, then you keep your trap shut about my religion for the rest of the time that we work together. Fine, two weeks, Gypsy Girl. Deal is done. Before I left today, Sailor Boy had two interviews, one for something he didn’t even apply for. I’d say that’s pretty damn good. Mojo takes time but I put in an express order. Then he had the audacity to ask, "Can’t you do something about the Prosecutor’s job? I really want that one." I said, "Damn, boy! ASK WITH SPECIFICITY NEXT TIME! You said, ‘A job, not A JOB AT THE PROSECUTOR’S OFFICE!’" I tossed this over my left shoulder to test the spiritual waters. My spirits sighed and rolled their eyes but flitted off. Now, why would I stir the spirits up like that? As I explained to Myra, maybe it will open some eyes. It may not change the world and may not even change how Sailor Boy feels, but, it may make him think and be more tolerant. Perhaps it will draw him closer to his own faith. Perhaps he will be able to see the power of positive thinking, the power of intention, the power of creative visualization, and the power of simply believing there is more to the other side than we could ever imagine. Not to mention, it was totally worth it to slither up next Sailor Boy and say, "Mojo risin’, baby... mojo risin’."

My Fabulous Life

2006-08-17T19:27:00.000-04:00

I have a headache. Today his name is AZ. CAN ANYTHING ELSE GO WRONG?? Don’t answer that. Please don’t answer that. I have a been a paralegal for 9 years. I have been a writer for 25 years. Both require a certain attention to detail. It is my life. It is my personality. I work with lawyers and paralegals, who also carry these traits. I forget that others do not. Last Friday we were trying to call in an order when we discovered that the size smalls did not come in 50/50, only 100% cotton. This is what precipitated the call from me to the ad agency to determine if, per my understanding, they would accept 100% for the smalls. Yes, they would. My fault was thinking that AZ would remember this conversation or that I had understood him correctly or that he understood me correctly. I don’t know. Either way, when I talked him during the chaos that was our Wednesday, he believed that they had accepted 100% FOR THE ENTIRE ORDER. So, now, I have 138 shirts which, while the right color, are the wrong fiber content. No, they cannot be returned. Would anyone care for some 100% cotton maroon shirts in varying sizes (M to 2XL)??? Anyone? And no, the client wants the 50/50 even though the dye lots are assured to be wrong and the smalls will be a different shade of maroon. While he didn’t yell, scream, or cuss, AZ stated that I did not specify the fiber content. Frankly, I think I did. I know in the e-mail I did and if I’m not mistaken, although I could be, I also reminded him over the phone yesterday or maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough. Either way, I’m steamed. I’m steamed because we now have 138 maroon shirts that we cannot use and cannot return. I’m steamed because I’m being blamed for this fuck up whenever I’m only willing to take 50% of the blame and the reason for that is that if AZ had left the fucking credit card so that we could order while he was away instead of depending on calling cards and shoddy cell and Internet service, this most definitely would not have happened. Okay, one bitten, twice shy and all that other shit. Blow me. Not to mention, he’s not ordering anything until Monday so I then had to call the ad agency back again and tell them their order would not be ready until the middle of next week. The shop resembles a warehouse making it much harder to circulate the 100 degree air. AZ missed the FedEx pick up in BF-NC so payroll will be late. Did I mention he’ll be hand delivering those sometime late Saturday? Yeah, he’s coming back a day early. Hoo-rah. If you see fireworks from the general direction of WV Saturday evening, you’ll know what happened. Enjoy the show.

And... The Plot Thickens

2006-08-16T22:42:00.000-04:00

At 12:42 this afternoon, I received a call from the shop informing me that some money had been stolen. While it was not a grossly large sum, $81.00, it was still our money. Well, all but $45 was our money, the rest belonged to our PC repair guy. I had no idea we even had any money on the premises. Most of the time, we invoice our contractor or promotional company or funds are collected and deposited the same day. First, I talked to the aforementioned Incompetent Employee and then the Head Printer who called me from his home. (He has the crud that is going around). I left work early to deal with the situation. Both guys asked that I not "bother" AZ with this latest pile of shit. I said I wouldn’t call him right off until I had a better understanding of what had happened. Head Printer suggested that we meet at 4:00 to discuss the situation but he strongly felt we should file a police report. I agreed. Regardless, I was at the shop by two, AZ was on the phone by 2:40 and the police had arrived by 3:15. When AZ called I told him that I was already at the shop. Printing had ground to halt because we had ran out of shirts on the 15,000 piece, artwork for other smaller jobs was being burned on the screens, we had shirts that we didn’t know what to do with, and I had other questions. I then told him that the reason I was at the shop early was because someone had stolen some money from the drawer. To me, not telling him would have just been a lie of omission, something I’m not willing to do. I don’t care if he’s on vacation. Sometimes shit just happens. He responded calmly, wanting to know why there was money there to start with. I told him all that I knew and when I suggested filing a police report, he concurred. He gave me some further instructions, telling me he would call me later. He didn’t lie. We were back on the phone as the officer, actually the one who was with Jeff when he found out I was pregnant with Nate, pulled up to the side entrance. I filed the report and it will be referred to the detective bureau. I can’t really speculate at this time what happened to the money. First, any of our money should not have even been there. It should have been given to me to deposit, yeah, if only they had known I had the deposit book. Regardless, someone should have taken it out of the office and not left it overnight. Even the PC repair guy’s money should have been carried out and returned the following day. My first and most major question is... if Mr. Incompetent discovered the money missing between 9:30 and 10:00, why did it take him two hours and 42 minutes to call me? Questions. Questions without answers. AZ issued an edict, via me, no more money is to be left in the office. Head Printer is distraught but came in at 4:00 and was still working as of 9:00. I am disappointed and exhausted. We have over 13,000 shirts arriving tomorrow. Hoorah.

FUCK MY BREATHING!

2006-08-15T23:33:00.000-04:00

As much as I love the guys at the shop, there is one that I want to choke almost on a daily basis. I try to remember that he really isn’t himself due to various medical problems and ensuing medications. I try really, really hard. However, after busting my ass for two days trying to keep things running smoothly and telling him at least twice that I had a confirmation to change an order AND writing down the confirmation so he could tell AZ when he called back, I was livid when he called me back and told me that AZ told him to call me since I was the one who was supposed to confirm the order change. I lost my temper. I yelled into the phone. I reminded him that I had told him twice AND had written it down that the order change had already been confirmed AND that he was supposed to tell AZ that it had been confirmed and give him the order OVER THE PHONE SO THE FUCKING T-SHIRTS COULD BE ORDERED TOMORROW!!!! This is when he decides to open his eyes and click on the little part that reads, "literacy," and reads where I had written it down. "Oh, yeah, you did write it down." DOH!! DOH!! DOH!! Let’s put aside the fact that our boss is AZ. I don’t care if it is AZ or Guy #3, I do not like being portrayed as someone who has not done what they are supposed to do, especially given the very, very, VERY FUCKING TIGHT DEADLINE WE ARE UNDER RIGHT NOW!!! Now, multiply that by TEN because our boss is, in fact, AZ. I take AZ’s trust in me very serious, in case that wasn’t obvious. Not just because, under the right circumstances, I am a kick ass employee. I do not slack, I run full steam. But also because the man that is my boss I also happen to be kick ass IN LOVE WITH. Not to mention, that given the relatively small number of people I have contacted, I’m taking the shit for what other’s deem as incompetence on the part of said employee, not to mention the snide remarks about phone calls not being returned promptly by AZ. Hence why I said yesterday that human beings are foul creatures. Perhaps it was nasty, but foul will work too. Have I mentioned how far behind I am on my beading? I am very far behind and having hand cramps last week and Nate for two weekends in a row has pretty much ... yeah, I’m not happy. Having Nate is one thing, hand cramps are another. My hands are my life. I did finally get a bead order out only then to discover, I forgot a color. I looked at the diminished quantity in the vial, calculated rapidly in my head and said, "Oh, yeah, I really do need those." Fuck.

PANIC! ALIENS! UNK-NOWN! OH MY!

2006-08-14T23:10:00.000-04:00

I’m not panicked. Not at all. I just find myself not knowing what the fuck I’m doing. I don’t know any of the prices. Bob was AWOL this evening. Kevin doesn’t know. AZ is gone. And I need to work up two quotes. Lovely. Just fucking lovely. I’ve also forgotten what wretched beings humans are. Take me out of customer service for five months and somehow I’ve forgotten what nasty, condescending assholes people can be. Nasty, I tell you, nasty. No worries. Nanner smiled and got her full metal jacket out of the cleaners. Tally ho! Though honestly, so far, so good. Although, there is that issue of all the shirts that need ordered... and the artwork that hasn’t been delivered... and those other 15,000 shirts... and the artwork that has to be submitted for work up... and the missing photocopy (which I’m sure is with AZ in NC - *ahem* *growl*)... and the alien abduction which has resulted in this rather interesting arroyo in my head that I have never noticed before, therefore will be chalked up to alien abduction... and the phone call at 4:50 a.m. Oh yes, the 4:50 call. You see, I awoke Sunday morning to a "missed call" on my cell phone. "Unknown" it said. (Which should be pronounced UNK-nown, just because... play along children). Since I have practically the entire phonebook from 10 states and beyond (remember... alien abduction) and since no call has EV-AH come up on my phone "UNK-nown," it occurred to me that a some certain someone, someone who has a habit of rising extremely early in the morning *cough*AZ*cough, and who was out of town and wouldn’t have an opportunity at another time, especially on a weekend, to make such a call, or rather, EXPLAIN making such call... yeah, well... I figured it was him. AZ, not the alien. And, how odd, out of the eight phone calls I received today, only one said, "UNK-nown," and it happened to be from the one person who called me using a calling card since he is out of town. 4:50. Good Lord and Lady, the man hadn’t even been gone 24 hours! I really must wipe this smug look off of my face... the aliens may leave another arroyo. Bad Nanner. BAD. NANNER.

Virgo Moon

2006-08-13T22:35:00.000-04:00

My moon is in Virgo, which represents that emotionally, I’m analytical. It drives me nuts. When under stress, I analyze. I seek, I search, I ruminate. Sometimes, I’m so busy, I don’t have the opportunity to do that. I like it. Things flip through my brain with amazing speed and while I still analyze to a degree, I don’t ruminate like I used to. I like it. When I am busy, it forces me to switch gears from thinking to feeling. I like it. I like it a lot. I have found a much greater peace from feeling instead of thinking. I feel more confident, more sure of myself, more sure of the decisions that I make. I don’t feel at war with myself. I am at peace. Perhaps it is the greater confidence in myself which has been pushed forward by AZ. Not just professionally, but also in our friendship/relationship. After 46 text messages over a period of a month, most of them saying "good morning" or "good night," which normally precipitated a phone call from one to the other, he said, "You know, you can call me. . ." Now, instead of text messaging him that I am awake, I call him at the station. Now, instead of text messaging me that he’s about to go to sleep, he calls me. After multitudes of voice messages, I don’t leave one anymore because I know he’ll see my number and call me. This is evidenced by the fact there were two messages from me in the 34 messages on his phone. I was a bit surprised that he allowed me to listen to his voice messages. That just seemed like such a personal thing. From the voice messages, he made us each a list of people to call. I have several things at the shop that need to be accomplished and it feels good. I also know that he’s feeding me leads to follow up on so he has an excuse to pay me for them. He doesn’t know that I know that, he didn’t tell me that, but I know it serves a two-fold purpose - it frees up the time he would spend on it (most sales take a minimum of five follow ups) and it gives him an excuse to pay me commission. More than anything, I know he trusts me. AZ can be exceptionally anal and controlling over his enterprise. He realizes what can happen, he has seen what can happen, when the wrong people have control over things. He’s once bitten, twice shy. Perhaps he also realizes that I’m a fish out of water and the world of sales is new to me, as is actually managing an office, although I have all the skills but none of the practical experience. And, I’m working double-time so instead of throwing a lot of shit on me at once, he’s easing me into it. Perhaps it is that I’m ambitious. When he expressed doubt that we could handle the 15,000 piece job, plus the other smaller jobs, I told him, in no uncertain terms, those jobs would be done, done well, and done on time. Period. So far, this has been the best thing to happen to us. We’re more relaxed with each other. When he got mad because one of our wholesalers had sent the wrong color shirts, he kicked in the filing cabinet. I heard about it later from the guys and when I talked to him that night, I said, "I heard you had a run in with one of the filing cabinets. Did it kick you, baby?" He answered ruefully, "Yeah, and I kicked it right back." Yes, he’s well known for his fits against inanimate objects and he’s also known to be curt and rude but only to those who let him get by with it. I, on the other hand, have absolutely no fear of him and have absolutely no tolerance for rude behavior directed at me. He must know that too, because he treats me like the Goddess I am. On the other hand, he’s still dating someone else (although it feels as though we’re the ones who are dating). He’s with her and her family at the beach right now. I can’t say that I’m thrilled, I can’t say that I’m totally jealous, I can’t say that I wish 100% that he hadn’t gone because I know how much he was looking forward to this time with his mom as well. That, I would not take away from him. It’s hard though. Especially when I ruminate, when I wonder what will happen when he comes home, when I think about what is and what might be. It’s when I think that I doubt, when I doubt I get anxious, when I get anxious I lose confidence, when I lose confidence I lose momentum. When I feel, I know, when I know, I relax, when I relax, I am my true self, when I’m my true self, I can accomplish anything. I know it sounds cheesy but AZ really is the wind beneath my wings. He doesn’t tell me I can do things, he doesn’t tell me I can accomplish things, he believes I can and therefore I believe in myself. But, he’s been here. His voice has been on the phone, his eyes have looked at me, his hands have touched me, and right now, I feel a little lost. I just have to remember that he’s with me. The wind still blows and he still believes. T-Bird and I have this thing where we say, "Miss me!" and the other responds, "Okay, miss me!" Out of habit, I did that to AZ Friday night. I said,"Miss me!" And he responded, "I will." My darling, if you only knew. If you only knew how much I already miss you...

YAWN

2006-08-12T11:16:00.000-04:00

Hi Ya’ll. I am alive! Although it’s only been two days since I’ve been here, I feel like it’s been longer. I feel like it’s been forever. Where have I been? Thursday, I went to work. And I worked. And then Thursday night Nate decided to stay with his dad so I went back to the shop since they, meaning the main printer (Kevin) and his girlfriend (Terri), were working on a 600 piece print job. It was 12:30 when we got out of there. Temperatures hovered around 100 degrees until we turned the ovens off. Ugh. It has to be hotter when you’re pulling shirts out of the 600 degree dryer, so Terri and I took turns pulling. The fronts had already been printed so we were working on the left chest prints. Then we had to change the tables on the automatic to print the large shirts. The tables are what the shirts are loaded on to go through the ink cycle. The tables were too hot so we had to wait until they cooled off to change them. They get hot because the shirts are flash dried as they go through the ink cycle so the inks don’t run into each other. We’ve had some trouble with the tables, which was supposed to be fixed, but wasn’t, so finally after running more shirts and getting frustrated with it, we finally threw in the shirt and took our sweaty, smelly selves home. Yesterday I had the Quickbooks class where I got leads on two shirt orders, one for a church and the others for a local union. I learned about Quickbooks, although I have to say, the class was boring. I left at lunch and was on the phone with Bob when AZ called from the phone at the shop and I told Bob to tell AZ that I was on the phone with him. I told Bob I would be there in a minute and then AZ called back wanting to know where the A/P folder was and I told him I was reviewing our accounts and it was on the table. He had found it by the time I got there, we talked for a minute as we hadn’t seen each other all week, not that we haven’t spoken, but we hadn’t actually laid eyes on each other. Then AZ left to go home and try to straighten up Casa Z as his mom and stepdad were on their way in for the beach trip. After my class, I called the shop as I was on my way to pick up Nate. Bob said AZ hadn’t shown back up, meaning: the paychecks weren’t there, the shirts hadn’t been ordered, and no one had any direction on where to go next. He wanted me to call AZ. I told him I would do what I could. I didn’t call because AZ already knew: the guys needed paid and the shirts needed ordered by 5:00. It was now 4:25. I picked up Nate, who was supposed to go to T-Bird’s because my cuz PC was having a party. No time. I headed east instead of west and guess who was in traffic beside of us? AZ, his mom, and stepdad. He rolled his stepdad’s window down and I yelled, "You gonna order those shirts today???" He laughed and said, "I’m on my way!" So, this is how Nanner met AZ’s mom and stepdad. I walked in and the shop looked great. Kevin had taken his time to straighten and sweep since he knew we would have VIV. That’s very important visitors. I was already on the phone with one of the t-shirt companies who had the audacity to send us a bill. In between I introduced myself to AZ’s mom and stepdad. I have to say, his Mom looked a bit out of sorts with all of the activity in the building. AZ’s on the phone, the computer guy is there, another printer is there, Nate is running around, Bob is loading shirts, Terri’s outside, Kevin and I are changing the jobs board, then AZ gets off the phone and he’s giving me instructions on half a dozen things, we’re writing down phone numbers and addresses for deliveries, I keep asking him questions, some of which I write down, some of which he says, "I’ll call ya later," "I’ll give that to you later," "Don’t worry until I get back," "What is this for?" I sold one of my necklaces to the computer guy and he gave me that money and a down payment on another piece. AZ’s mom was standing there and she said, "That is very pretty." I said, "Thank you very much." I decided that AZ looks nothing like her, at all. Then I had to chase Nate around, who had been given Dr. Pepper by his father. Who I have told, "Don’t give him Dr. Pepper, it makes him crazy." I believe AZ’s mom and stepdad got a big dose of Nate. *Says a prayer* Finally, everyone left but me and the other printer, so Nate helped me load up the deliveries, and off we went. I dropped one off and then took Nate to T-Bird’s then went up the hill to make another delivery and pick-up money, then down the hill, talked to my cousin, made another delivery, went to my cousins, ate, had a couple of beers, AZ called, I drove back to town and met him at the real estate office. We talked, I rubbed his back, got more instructions, went through the 34 messages on his cell phone, talked more, and then we left. I went back to T-Bird’s to get Nate, watched the end of "You’ve Got Mail," and then "Cross Country with John Edward." For some reason I was compelled to return to the 7-11 to pick up a $5 ring I wanted, saw one of the officers Jeff used to work with, talked to him for about a half of an hour, drove home, and collapsed in exhaustion. Nate had already fallen asleep in the car on the way to 7-11 so all I had to do was pour him in the bed. And, that’s why I haven’t been around. Now, time for breakfast. Going back to PC’s today for swimming and food. Oh, and the bank, I have to take the deposit to the bank. If I am not around next week, it is because I am buried under 15,800 shirts. *Says a prayer*

SNIIIIIFFFFFFFFFF

2006-08-09T00:47:00.000-04:00

Well, my favorite reality peeps got married tonight. Yes, I admit it, I’m a fan of Dog and Beth (and Leland and Tim and Duane Lee, especially Leland, meowr.) Anyway, I knew that Dog and Beth were getting married because I had read it in the news. What got me was they were all so cavalier heading into the final rehearsal, chasing bail jumpers up until the last minute, and then they got "the call." I already knew "the call" was coming since it happened actually in May and was reported in the news. Dog’s daughter Barbara Katie was killed in an automobile collision the day before their wedding. I thought I was prepared, but I don’t think I’m ever prepared to see grown men, men who go out and chase down criminals, with their mouths quivering, sobbing and crying. It’s a reminder that these are real people, with real problems, and real sorrow, no matter how over-the-top and crazy they act. I sat and cried along with them, not even able to imagine the pain they must have been going through to have lost a daughter, a step-daughter, a sister, a niece, and a mother. Nate hugged me and I was thankful for one more day with my beautiful child. I cried again when Dog started crying right before the wedding and said, "God must have a reason to take my baby." Then I cried again when they got married because I always cry at weddings. What Dog said, about God having a reason, I believe is very true. My two male coworkers make fun of my religious beliefs but there is nothing they can say to ever make me change my mind. I do believe that we are here to learn. Our souls are here to learn. We make choices and we learn from those choices. We may wonder why bad things happen but I do believe that whether it our lesson to learn or whether it is through us that others learn, things happen for a reason. Sometimes, we don’t know the reason, maybe we aren’t meant to know the reason. Perhaps the reason is to simply bring us closer to our Higher Power, whatever you believe that Higher Power to be. Learn, everyday. Live, everyday. Love, everyday.

The Weekend

2006-08-07T21:23:00.000-04:00

As you could tell from my calendar of events (listed below), I had two birthday parties to attend. There was a bit of waffling on my niece’s party because I wasn’t actually invited until two days before, which is a bit hard for me considering I had already promised myself to another party (for T-Bird’s nephew). But, after a discussion with Nate, we decided to attend both and just get to my brother’s place about a half of an hour late. In all honesty, I think it was as much a birthday party as it was a “come look at my big expensive new home” party. When I drove up to their new house, my mouth dropped to the floor of the car. It’s one of those houses that you dream about having (at least someone on my salary) but know you’ll probably never achieve. Four bedrooms plus a “bonus room” which is now the playroom, 2 1/2 baths, living room, dining room, family room, kitchen with an island as long as my Queen size bed, breakfast nook with room for a table for eight people, mud room, two car garage, large back porch, nice yard. Granted, with three children, and given the fact my niece’s prior bedroom was not much more than a closet, they really needed a bigger house. My SIL told me that she keeps waking up and wondering if someone is going to tell her, “Sorry, we made a mistake. You can’t have it.” So, I know she’s very happy with it and the kids are happy and I suppose my brother is happy, although he’s always difficult to read. Did I mention it has two staircases, one of each end of the house, on opposite sides? Yeah, the boys had a blast playing hide and seek, especially when I heard the dryer open and not only did J2 crawl out, but also Nate. I wondered how those two hooligans stayed in there so long?!? And QUIETLY, since they were playing hide and seek and J1 was it. J2 ~~has~~had a loose tooth. Nate told him to sit down and he would take care of it once my brother was unsuccessful at yanking it out. Nate wiggled it side to side and back and forth, whilst the adults cringed and J1 and Annie looked on it fascination. Nate took a paper towel and dried the tooth, then gripped the tooth with said paper towel and said, “Ooooone, Twooooooo... *YANK* THREE!” We all looked at the paper towel. Nothing. We looked in J2's mouth. No tooth! Then J2 stuck his tongue out and there was the tooth on the end of it. Annie clapped. She is so very precious. So, Nate pulled J2's first tooth. Everyone was happy, my brother and his family have a beautiful new home, my younger nephew lost his first tooth, and we have a great memory that we can laugh about as our children grow older. I can’t ask for more than that. I signed up for a blogger tribute to the victims of 9/11. The information is here. If you would like to be assigned a victim of 9/11 to memorialize, please visit this site.

Tribal

2006-08-06T00:13:00.000-04:00

In addition to my home life, regular 40, the shop, my beadwork, and AZ, I've decided I'm just not busy enough, my life just isn't full enough, so, I'm taking a six week tribal belly dancing class. See, it fits perfect in my schedule: Aug. 6th - two birthday parties (my niece and T-Bird’s nephew, already two years old). My niece’s party is 2 hours away and it doesn’t start until 5. *Sigh* Aug. 11th - Cuz PC is having a housewarming/end of summer internship shindig. Aug. 12th - Going to PC’s to go swimming. Aug. 12th - 19th - AZ on vacation. Aug. 25th - Aug. 27th - Beading at Tamarack. Aug. 28th - Nate starts back to school. Sept. 4th - Labor Day Celebration (t-shirt sales) Sept. 6th - Belly dancing Sept. 9th - Mound Art and Craft Fair (beading/maybe t-shirts) Possible trip to Columbus on either the 8th or 10th in an attempt to catch up to BooBoo. Sept. 13th - Belly dancing Sept. 15th & 16th - Fall Fest (beading/maybe t-shirts) (16th is also J3's b-day party) Sept. 20th - Belly dancing Sept. 27th - Belly dancing Sept. 30th - Julie's birthday Oct. 4th - Belly dancing Oct. 6th, 7th, 8th - Trip to Chicago. (Tentative) Oct. 11th - Belly dancing Oct. 14th - WV Black Walnut Festival (Parade and fun, no beading or t-shirts) Oct. 21st - Bridge Day (Tentative) Oct. 22nd - Rock and Gem Show (SCCC) Nov. 3rd, 4th, 5th - Trip to Pittsburgh Nov. 20th - Buck/Anterless Firearms Season Opens Nov. 21st - Nanner's birthday! Nov. 23rd - Thanksgiving Dec. 11th - AZ's birthday Dec. 25th - Christmas Dec. 31st - New Year's Eve Would anyone care to add anything???

I Dare You To Tell Me To Walk Through Fire!

2006-08-05T01:22:00.000-04:00

You know... that little voice in your head, I don’t know, maybe you’re lucky and don’t have one, but if you do happen to have one, do you ever want to take it out and beat it to death? I do. Tonight, I really fucking do. Really, really want to. Why? Why, when I’m down and pissed and bitter and angry and I want to give up, does that little voice say, “Don’t give up.” And why doesn’t she ever shut up? I can piss and moan and have 100 things going on at the same time. I can rant and rave and cry, I can ARGUE with the voice, and still, that same calm voice says, “Don’t give up.” I know who it is. I’ve seen her. She’s beautiful. She’s THE numero uno spirit guide. The grand poobah. What she says, goes. I aspire to be her someday. Sometimes my voices, they argue with each other. I tell them to get back to me when some kind of consensus has been reached, but not tonight. Tonight, she said, “Don’t give up.” And the other spirits were quiet. What the fuck are they waiting for? And why did they turn the most notorious red light, GREEN, tonight? I felt bad when that light turned green. That light never fucking turns green. Every time I get to that light, it’s red. Maybe my anger turned it green. The psychic lady I saw a few years ago told me I have joy spirits. Maybe that’s the magnetism, the funky light, electronic thing. I’ve had more than one psychic/medium person tell me, “you have so many spirits around you.” One told me they had revealed themselves to me. That is true, but a story for another time. I was just so down and I was bitching out loud and when that light turned green so I wouldn’t have to stop, I just felt bad because I know I’m never alone and I’m grateful that I have the ability to know that I’m never truly alone. And I am grateful that my spirits have intervened in my life and are here to encourage me when I’m down and just absolutely so fucking bitter that I’m useless to be around. Sometimes I don’t listen. Even to Myra, the grand poobah of spirit guides, because life is about choices. *Glower* *Seethe* But this time, I will listen. I can be very ~~stubborn~~ persistent, and that’s all she’s asking of me right now. FINE! FINE! FINE! I won’t give up. *growl* I want to though. I want to scurry away into my little cave because that’s what Scorpios do. But for you, DEAR MYRA, I won’t give up. I won’t scurry away in my little cave. I totally owe you one when I cross over. *growl* Damnit!

Oooops

2006-08-04T21:24:00.000-04:00

I’ve had a few too many beers so I’m stuck at the shop until I sober up. I did quit drinking, now I’m trying to remember how long I have to wait. Obviously, a while. I’m good, just listening to Napster. . . “Headed for a Heartbreak” by Winger. I’ll always be an 80’s child. I spilled beer on AZ’s keyboard. It appears to still be working since I’m still correcting all of my mistakes. Part of me hopes he comes back, part of me hopes he doesn’t.

Conversationally

2006-08-03T22:30:00.000-04:00

Nanner: I have a couple of questions for you. AZ: And I may have a couple of answers. Spoken like a true smart ass. Nanner: I’m going to Pittsburgh in November. Mom: Why? Nanner: Her Evilness is getting married, I mean, having a reception or something in Pittsburgh. She’s actually getting married in Atlanta. I’m making her bridal necklace. Mom: Who’s Her Evilness? Nanner: One of my blog friends from At-lan-ta. I met her in Kansas City and Aimee is coming in from California. Mom: Who’s Aimee? *Sigh* ... later in the conversation... Mom: I want to go to the Statue of Liberty while we’re on our trip but we want to take a day trip on a charter or something. Nanner: Yeah, dad shouldn’t drive in NYC, that would be dangerous. I have a few blog friends that live in the area, two in NYC and one in Jersey, I could ask them. Mom: OH, could YOU??? Nanner: Of course, Mom, I got you covered all the way to Maine. Cybele is in MD, E-Lo is PA, Julie, Vince, and Lilo are in NY, Beth is in Jersey, BooBoo is in ME, and I could even dig up a sloth in MA. It’s the Blogger Roadside Assistance Program. Mom: Why would you dig up a sloth? I need a drink.

Bad Kitty

2006-08-02T23:22:00.000-04:00

I have a shirt that says, “What Happens In This Shirt, Stays In This Shirt.” HA! Yeah. Right. I blog people. Do not believe the shirt! I also have a shirt that says, “Bad Kitty,” with a frowny cat on it. I use this to fool people into thinking only my kitty is bad, when I know, I’m totally bad. Rotten to the core. I love it when I’m standing outside my building. People walk by and ask how I am. Well, I’m standing outside where it is 95 fucking degrees in the shade and I am in the sun, so, I’m probably hot and sweaty. I’m also smoking, which means, I’m inhaling 4000 chemical compounds into my lungs, via my mouth and mucous membranes, which is affecting how I taste, smell, and breath. My heart rate is increasing, but that may also be because I stand outside and fantasize about doing nasty things to AZ. Remember, “Bad Kitty.” I also live in the “Chemical Valley,” so whatever the chemical companies released into the air and river while we slept is mixing with my stink and sweat and cigarette smoke. Lovely thought, isn’t it? One of the first things AZ said to me at 6:20 this morning was, “Just between you and me, guess who called me.” I hate guessing, because I’m always wrong, but I did anyway, and I was wrong. See. When he told me, I said, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” That whole, “Just between you and me,” means, I’m not supposed to tell anyone. And I haven’t. You could guess, but you would be wrong. See? There are fucktards working next door. It is 10:44 and they are still running a skill saw. I’m not happy. I hate noise when it’s supposed to be quiet. I’m not sure what I hate more, them interrupting my nighttime or waking me up at 9:30 on Saturday morning. I hate them both equally and I’m about to pull rank. I fucking live here peeps! You, you come in and work on the nabe’s house, come in when I’m not HERE! I’M NEVER HERE!! I’M ONLY HERE AT NIGHT!!! AND I LIKE MY FUCKING PEACE AND QUIET!!!! I fail to see how this guy buying the property, and then listing it before it is done, is my problem. Nope, doesn’t have my name on it. Don’t make me angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry. Bad kitty. If you see pictures below, then blogger worked, if not, then blogger didn’t work.

Double Entendre

2006-08-01T21:50:00.000-04:00

It’s ditty time! On top of Oh Fuck, all covered with sweat, I lost my poor checkbook, Now I’m swimming in debt. My creditors are calling they want to get paid I told them to fuck off and suck my left tit-tay My day started off much like yesterdays, except I had AZ on the phone to bitch to. I had TM-ed him last night (that mean “text messaged” you dirty pervs), and then he called me about 20 minutes later but I was already in bed and didn’t hear the phone. So, I TM-ed him this morning and I had barely put the phone down when he rang me back. Then someone came in the studio (at the ungodly hour of 6:45 or so) and he had to go, then he had a remote, then he had to go stand in line with the other 2500 people who were trying to meet the Workers’ Comp deadline and it was 94 in the shade, 108 in direct sunlight, with 47% humidity. I TM-ed him a dirty ditty, not the same ditty as above, but haven’t heard from him. Now you want to know the dirty ditty don’t you? Well, it’s a play on words for the Workers’ Compensation fund insurance underwriter who has a monopoly in this fair state of mine. It’s called Brickstreet but we call them “Prickstreet.” And AZ, ya know, he kinda got a wee bit peeved at said insurance underwriter and sort of made a T-shirt with the “Prickstreet” slogan on it, and now I’m wondering if he is in jail. Anyway, the ditty says, “Prickstreet, Prickstreet, you’re our friend, if you can’t fuck us, no one can!” That would be a triple play on words. Actually, that would be more like a play on words, a double entendre, and a hidden meaning. I wish I got points for this shit. I’ve been working on Regan’s bridal necklace. I was working diligently today when suddenly, OUCH, my hand cramped. Both of my hands are sore. My right one is really sore. Shut up. This is not a time for double entendres and filthy jokes. This is SERIOUS! I make my living with my hands. This just keeps getting better. I suppose it’s better than saying I make my living with my mouth. Not that I couldn’t make a living with my mouth, I just don’t. Where was I? Oh, yeah, my hands. It could be from holding a brooch I was making the other night since I had to grip it tightly while I whittled away at the foundation to keep it from showing. I think I did all right. Actually, this is a double entendre piece, meaning, it will have a pin AND a bail backing, so it may be worn as both a pendant and a brooch, cuz that’s how I roll. I was going to post some pics but blogger wants to be a bitch. Maybe tomorrow.

GROWL

2006-07-31T22:02:00.000-04:00

WARNING: THERE WILL BE EXCESSIVE USE OF THE WORD “FUCK” IN THIS POST. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE WORD “FUCK” PLEASE STOP FUCKING READING. I hate Mondays and I hate mornings. My morning began at 2:00 a.m. when upon going to bed discovered my delightful son had crawled into MY fucking bed, sans me, of course, as I was busy jamming out to Napster and beading, and had wet MY fucking bed. Nate still has a problem with nocturnal wetness and boy did he piss a fucking flood. *Growl* I had finally worked myself to fucking exhaustion on the fucking car and the fucking beading and all I was looking forward to was going to fucking bed, only to find my son swimming in a sea of fucking urine which most fucking delightfully will have now soaked all the way through to the fucking floor. *Growl* I know he cannot help this but this did not stop me from being fucking irritated as cranky bitch on her period.... oh yeah, which I started yesterday. *Growl* After having mopped up the best I could and having sprayed the fucking mattress with Shout, and spreading fucking towels, which were fucking clean, but now are fucking dirty, which means I will have to fucking wash them again! *Growl* Normally, when I start said fucking red curse of hell and damnation, it takes a while for it to get going so I was unprepared at nine fucking thirty this morning to already have a major crisis on my hands. *Growl* Fuck. Then, I had to go pay my fucking property taxes, which is a fucking racket if you ask me. Thank you fucking government for punishing me for being able to afford a car and a house and anything else you can fucking tax! 120 fucking dollars just to pay the fucking taxes and the license fee. Fucking racket. *Growl* I went by the shop and no one was there. I said, “Fuck it. Not going in” But, now, I wish I had gone it because I’m fucking missing a vial of beads. *Growl* Did I mention it is fucking hot? 82 fucking degrees at 9:45. *Growl* So, I get home and attempt to fucking bead, which normally calms me down, only to find the beads I had bought were translucent instead of opaque and, while pretty, just don’t go with the other bead I wanted them to go with. So, I used another bead, fucking starting over again, discovering, as mentioned above, that I was missing a vial of fucking beads. I doubt they are at the shop. They are probably in my fucking car, which looks like a fucking dumpster right now. Nate and I decide we need food, so it’s off to fucking Taco Hell, where we sit in the fucking heat for over 15 minutes only to get the wrong fucking order. With drive time, wait time, and fuck up time, 45 fucking minutes of my life wasted on Taco Hell. Then I didn’t like the fucking food. I hate being on my period during the summer. I feel fucking dirty ALL. THE. TIME. YUCK! I’m fucking done now. Back to beading. Bzzzzzt!

Sunday, Friday, Saturday - A Weekend in Peachville

2006-07-30T21:25:00.000-04:00

Well, lost almost a whole day of beading pleasure due to the fact my car said, “Bitch, if you don’t fix me, I’m just not going to run anymore.” I hate it when that happens. Off I go to my local Advanced Auto to pick up a fuel filter. I’ve never changed a fuel filter before, but I have now. Start car, runs better, test drive, hmmmmmm. . . still hesitating. . . this is bad. Let’s put fucking expensive ass high test gas in it. No, didn’t help much. Let’s see, the last time I changed the fuel filter was the same time I changed the spark plugs and wires which was. . . 2004. Given my penchant for electrical shit to just not last around me, which is what I told the lady at Advanced Auto on my 2nd trip, I figured this would be a good opportunity to switch them out and see if this fixed the problem. When I told the lady at Ad. Auto this, she asked me to hold my left palm over her left palm and when I did she looked up at me with wide eyes. Obviously this lady is a force reader and the force is with me. She said, “People think I’m crazy,” I nodded, “I know.” “Do you know that some people just don’t have that. . . that. . .” “Life energy? The force?” I offered. Her eyes lit up and she smiled, “Yes! The force!” I nodded. Now, my car is sitting in front of my house with the hood up, cooling off so I can attempt to not kill myself or short circuit the electrical system. I’ll be back (hopefully) to let you know how that goes. *BZZZZZT!* . . . A short time later in Peachville Well, I didn’t get the plugs changed because I don’t have the correct tools and I only got one wire changed but hey, my car is running and sounds better than it has for five or six weeks. Knowing my luck I’ll get up in the morning and the car won’t start or sound like it did this morning, then I will have to lay my hands on it again. That seems to help. Something about “the force.” Anyway, Friday night I spent four hours at the shop alone working on getting my beads organized. I’m not even halfway finished. Yesterday I spent time at Wal*Mart and the shop. Here’s the deal. After T-Bird’s aunt passed away a few years back, T-Bird inherited a bedspread and curtains in . . . a bright red velvety sorta material. T-Bird felt she should gift this to me so I could make something out of it IF I also made her something. Fair enough I say. So, when I started talking about this purse project for Beadwork magazine, T-Bird piped up that she wanted a cigar box purse too. I have since changed my mind about the cigar box and am going with a “coal” theme for the purse for Beadwork magazine but did start on the T-Bird one. I have a design crafted into the material that I cut from the bottom of one of the curtains and that’s about it. So, that leaves me with a big bedspread and 1 3/4 full length curtains. In red. Oh yeah, the possibilities are endless... uh huh. That is, until I got this bright red idea to make a cloak out of said material. Hence the trip to Wal*Mart to pick up a pattern and thread and a few needles and then a stop at another local textile store where I picked up the tracing paper and that wheel thingy and a gold frog and saw a drunk with dreadlocks hit said textile building, almost drive his car through the window of convenience store and the ensuing fire truck, ambulance, and four police cars. This is up from the one police car at a fender bender on my way to Wal*Mart and still up from the fire truck, ambulance, and two police cars I saw Friday night when some gentleman drove his truck head first into a telephone pole. Never a dull moment. Bzzzt. So, I got to the shop and swept the floor and spread out the material and the pattern and did all the things that one should do and sweated and cursed and sang along with the radio and showed off my beadwork to the Computer Guy and his associate and twiddled my thumbs while he met with a client who had the audacity to step on my material which was on the floor since none of the tables were big enough. Then I had to go home and get the 3/4 curtain and something to eat and finally around 7:30 I pieced together what I had just to see if it looked normal or anywhere close to that and it did and I came home, fed the cats, fed the remaining living kitten (Cali, she is SO CUTE and lucky to be alive), and started beading and watching “Cold Case Files.” This was short lived as AZ called at about 9:20 and was at my house by 9:30 and we had porch time which was nice except the mosquitoes were bad. I knew he had gone to the Girlfriend’s brother’s birthday celebration an hour and a half away and I also knew that while he likes said brother, he didn’t really want to go and when I questioned as to why he couldn’t just get together with said brother for lunch as said brother works in our town he grumbled and mumbled about the Girlfriend pestering him (insisting... uhhhh... whatever) that he go. So, upon his return to town he ditches Girlfriend, stops for some liquid courage and ends up on my porch, with my arms wrapped around him, and his arms wrapped around mine, holding hands. That didn’t sound real good, did it? Don’t answer that. He didn’t stay long though, like I said, mosquitoes were bad and so was the state of my house, so off he went and I went back to beading. And then it was Sunday, which started this post. Amen.

New Beadwork

2006-07-28T23:23:00.000-04:00

Picture Jasper - I love this piece. This is a prototype brooch, I'm getting ready to make a few more, just different. This is a choker I made for the celtic pendant that Troy bought me many moons ago. A bracelet made from Swarovski pearls. From the "Works in Progress" Files - They greys. AZ's computer guy asked for a grey necklace for his girlfriend, so, these are the two things I have worked on so far. This piece is done in four shades of size 15's (very, very small beads) and Swarovski's. And the most recent victim of "Can Only Make One Syndrome." The only thing difficult for me to do twice or three times, earrings. I have this horrible habit of only making one. I wish I didn't have to make them the same. That is all for now.

I Just HAD to Open My Mouth

2006-07-27T22:10:00.000-04:00

Didn't I? Jeff decided to have a few drinks before I picked Nate up and it got real ugly, real fast. I hate drunks. I cannot tolerate alcoholics when they’re drinking. I don’t care anymore who it is. And I especially hate mean, blaming, belligerent drunks. Now, Jeff wants me to give Nate to him for a year. Right. I told him to fuck off. The man is sitting there drunk. He is slurring his words at 5:30 in the evening. Goddess only knows what else he had on top of that booze. See, I’m not Mother of the Year by any stretch of the imagination. I know this. My house could stand to be a hell of lot cleaner. Jeff wanted to throw shit on me about Nate and school. I told him that I was the reason that Nate even got to fourth grade. Me. Because he, Jeff, as you all know, WALKED AWAY. I told him that. I said, “You.walked.away. I told him I was not taking his shit and the conversation was over. Then he got in my face, blah, blah, blah, blah, and I told him, “No, I’m not perfect, but neither are you, but I don’t see me mentioning that.” Then he tried to get me to touch him in some way so he could cry battery and get a DVP against me but I walked away. He tried to say, “Look at how you’re acting in front of your son!” Oh, right, I’m being verbally attacked, he’s bullying me, forcing me backwards, and he’s drunk. Yeah, I’m the bad influence. For someone who wants to have his son for an entire year. . . funny, he’s only asked to have Nate for one week this summer. Nate asked for an additional two days when his sister was there. Granted, Jeff sees Nate everyday, or so I’m told, since I’ve also been told Jeff naps a lot during the day, but no, he hasn’t asked for exclusive time, meaning, I don’t pick Nate up in the evenings. Additionally, he said I don’t spend any time with Nate. Funny. . . pool trips, movies, dinner every evening, sometimes I bead on the bed while Nate watches TV or plays a video game, sometimes, lo and behold, I read blogs and I write and I bead somewhere else, normally at my desk, and I may even talk on the phone to an adult who isn’t drunk! He pisses me off. Oh, and AZ and I are fine. He’s continually amazed by my beading skills and today we worked on an ad for the shop. We may be taking a one day Quickbooks class together in August. But I forgot to remind him about it. Must do that tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Pics soon of my new beadwork.

Two Memories

2006-07-26T23:15:00.000-04:00

I wrote this about a week ago and didn't get a chance to post it so it can be the fill in for today I felt as thought my Fourteen Years War (hereinafter “FYW”) Saga was kind of a downer and negative. Especially since I’ve actually had extremely good times with both AZ and Jeff. Thought I would share two such memories with you. One night, Jeff and I were driving around (that’s called a “Drive Around Date” in WV) and the song “Renegade” by Styx came on the radio. If you’re not familiar with it, it starts with a harmony of singers and a light drum beat. Oh mama I'm in fear for my life From the long arm of the law Lawman has put an end to my running And I'm so far from my home Oh mama I can hear you a crying You're so scared and all alone Hangman is coming down from the gallows And I don't have very long Then there is a high pitched, screaming type “YEAH!” Since I sing along with every song on the radio, this was no exception. What I wasn’t expecting was Jeff to contribute the “YEAH!” I jumped out of my skin then we both started laughing. I still love that song and I think of Jeff every time I hear it. Then, one night when I went to a local bar and grill, I was chatting up the owner’s wife, a somewhat ditzy coke addict with an additional alcohol problem. AZ came behind the bar and we smiled at each other. She asked, “Do you know each other?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “Oh, Inanna this is AZ, AZ this is Inanna. She makes jewelry.” AZ and I shook hands. I said, “It’s nice to meet you, AZ.” He said, “It’s nice to meet you, Inanna.” Both of smiling like Cheshire Cats. We laughed long and hard about that later. I still laugh about it especially considering on one of my trips last year I ended beside of her on a plane. We had time to catch a drink in Charlotte before our connecting flights (at 3:00 or 4:00 in the evening). I think she had three Bloody Mary's in 20 minutes. I gave her some beads to share with her daughters. I need to tell AZ about that. Keep meaning to... just keep forgetting.

I am . . . ELECTROGIRL!

2006-07-25T22:58:00.000-04:00

My car has been acting up and I’m betting it is something that I have already had fixed that shouldn’t be broken already. I looked for arcing and sparks under the hood which would indicate trouble with the spark plug wires but naturally when I popped the hood and gunned the engine the damn thing acted like it was ready to race the Indy 500 until of sputtering and clicking and missing like it has been for the past five weeks. When I change the channel on the radio, I use the little buttons that I have my stations saved to, if I don’t, when I turn the station knob, it just fucks up my radio. It takes me twice as long to tune my radio with the knob than if I just hit a button because the stupid radio simply will not tune when I turn the knob. Stupid radio. I bought a new watch face today and then proceeded to waste an hellavu lotta time trying to make a chain mail watchband to go with it. It has taken longer to figure out chain mail then the watch will probably last. Also, I have yet to figure out chain mail. Pretty, tough, pretty damn tough, maybe tomorrow. Regardless, I do not have high hopes for said watch. I will most likely bead a standard two or three drop peyote band tomorrow, embellish it, and call it a day. Not only do watches die on me in a relatively short period of time, battery replacement does no good. When the watch dies, it is dead, never to be resurrected. We had a horrible, but welcome, thunderstorm on Friday night. The sweltering temps were driving me batty. It moved in fast and hit hard. Kind of like the thunderstorm described in my “Distortion by Thunderstorm” posts, except, it moved faster. A bolt of lightening came dangerously close to my house. Close enough that I could feel the static electricity from it all over my body and the lights dimmed very, very low. Close enough that, instinctively, I ducked. I feel as though had I not been home, it would have fried everything on the east side of my house, which is the important side of the house. TV, cable box, computer, air conditioner, refrigerator, freezer, and alarm clock, all on the east side of the house. Eh, who cares about the alarm clock. I have a hard time with compasses. Street lights blink off and on. Ask Troy, he is a bona fide skeptical witness. We were standing under one of those quad streetlights favored by large parking lots when they went off like “Close Encounters.” Troy also was a witness to another streetlight phenomena when I snapped my fingers and made one go off. Lights have come on in my house and the TV once, although I’m not sure if it was me or a spiritual being who happened to be passing through and knew I wanted the TV turned on. Sometimes, I can get all of the stoplights to turn to green. The lady I buy beads from told me after hearing my lamentation about watches that, “You just have a different body chemistry.” Tell me, are those little balls they use for the lottery magnetic? Damn. Didn’t think so.

Choices and Chances

2006-07-24T19:35:00.000-04:00

My job is winding down. Any moment they could give us the promised two weeks notice or they could walk in and tell us to pack our things and leave. So, I’m working eight full hours there and working a few hours at the shop and beading at home. The shop won’t generate any money until I start bringing in sales. Beadwork, same thing, although I’m getting ready to be juried again. I’m sick of being in an office all the time. I would much rather be creative. That’s what I like about the shop. It satisfies many different needs in me. Creatively, numbers, relaxed atmosphere, flexibility, it’s my dream job, except for that whole commission pay thing. So, I’m trying to combine the best of both worlds. I haven’t quite decided yet, but I’m hoping to take a few basic courses in Excel and Quickbooks, and hang out yet another shingle as “Office Girl for Hire.” AZ and the Computer Guy can’t be the only extremely busy small business owners who need an office girl but can’t afford one full time. I also bid on a transcribing machine today, the mini-cassette kind, but I also bid on a standard cassette kind but didn’t meet the reserve. I’ll keep my eyes open on Ebay although the transcriber I bid on was very, very sweet. I may up my bid. I’m also looking into becoming a medical transcriptionist. I’ve also been looking into advertising. Damn, if that shit is not expensive! But, have to spend money to make money. I’ve also contemplated using the resources at the shop to take up event planning. We have dozens and dozens of promotional wholesale catalogs. I may add that to my shingle. I’ll have to talk to AZ about that as I would want that to be under the shop umbrella since we’ve discussed plans for expansion anyway. Just have to generate the funds to do it. I’m nearing high anxiety level though. So many thoughts, so many ideas, so little money, so very little security, which freaks me out. I have a slight fall-back, but who wants to make that call? Not I. This is time when I cannot doubt myself. That can be really hard but I’m tired of being miserable in my work. I’m to the point where I’d rather work twice as hard and be happy as to work less and be miserable.

Survival in the Morning

2006-07-23T11:02:00.000-04:00

I am not a morning person. I hate waking up. It’s a long process and normally I end up running late, forever miscalculating how long it will take me to rouse Nate, clothe us both, and get us where we need to be. Sometimes, I sleep right through the alarm, but only if it is tuned to music. While music is my preferred way to wake up, if I deeply truly need to awaken, then I turn on the blaring alarm. I am a night person. I wake up when the rest of the world goes to sleep. It is more peaceful and I can relax. My favorite time is from when the sun goes down to about an hour or two after the sun rises. Even after working long hours last week, some 14 hour days, the last six spent in temperatures of mid to upper 90's at the shop (Friday, while I was cleaning, sweat literally dripped off of my face and nose), after I left and came out into the darkness and relative coolness (if you consider 85 degrees at 10:30 cool), one would think I would be ready for bed. No, not really. If anything, I was energized. AZ is the same way. We were lamenting that fact after a particularly heinous day of broiling hot temps and disgusting humidity. Since both of us have to rise early, he at 4:45 and I at 5:30 (or so), it doesn’t help much that at 11:00 we’re both very tired yet energized. I don’t know how to explain it. We got around that on Thursday when I text messaged him that he had infected me with “do it twice syndrome.” This was after standing outside the shop with the door shut realizing I had left my purse inside, then coming home and realizing I needed to leave immediately to go pick up wet cat food in an attempt to keep some kittens alive (which has failed miserably), thus, doing things twice. AZ called me and snarkily said, “I take no responsibility, I believe you may have already had this syndrome and are just now realizing how annoying it is.” HA! Then I thought about it, and I am indeed cursed with the “do it twice if not three times syndrome” and have been most of my life, especially when it comes to leaving in the mornings. Then we discussed various things, mainly I did since I had told him to go lay down and I would lay down too, since, even though we’re a few miles apart, tends to help wind us down if we’re both in the bed, albeit different beds. I think I was wrong in my belief that he’s totally passive-aggressive. I can see it in both of us but being together or rather, in the same environment, has quelled a great deal of that, especially in the fact that we must communicate with one another and we’re there, in the moment, and head off behaviors, gently. If anything, I’ve stopped taking some things personally and realize it is more the environment versus anything I’ve said or done, which is sometimes hard to do over the phone. On Thursday, I was talking about my plans for the future and what they included and didn’t include, and after I had concluded that, I added, “Oh yeah, and it would nice to have someone to share all of that with,” and then lamented my recent dating disasters and how I feel, as Celti once told me, if you’re totally satisfied, then you’re stagnant. You have to keep moving forward, ambition in a person is very important to me, and AZ said, “I have more ambition than I know what to do with.” I said I didn’t want someone holding me back from achieving things or something to that effect and he said, “Can misery come along?” I paused and I said, “Ahh, misery loves company and misery is welcome as long as it doesn’t hold me back.” Misery. Misery being him. He who describes himself as the most miserable person on the planet. The eternal optimist, me, and the eternal pessimist, AZ. Life is about balance. So, finally after drifting off to sleep, the alarm goes off at 5:30, and I hit the snooze button, twice more until 6:02, when the alarm goes off, the music alarm and one of the few songs guaranteed to rouse me out of bed is playing. The first song of the day on AZ’s shift is “Survival of the Sickest” by Saliva. If you’re not acquainted with said song, it’s a song about rising above, proving who you are, while showing everyone the middle finger who said you couldn’t do it. It’s also a sexual song... So ease down And wrap your legs around me baby Wrap your legs around me Ease down And wrap your legs around me baby Wrap your legs around me! Roll over baby, get on your knees I'm gonna drive this little red love machine And because I’m the Nanner, I text messaged AZ and said, “Drive MY little red love machine. AZ in my a.m.” Referring to his radio call sign and motto. He called me and read me the morning’s news, which we discussed while I got dressed, fed the cats, packed up my suitcase of beads, and left for work. That’s not all but this already too long and I’ll just write the rest for me. But things are going well and I had an epiphany last night at about 4:30 when I awoke from my slumber of 14 hours duration. I was a tired Nanner. I'll need to at some point, write out the conversation about whether or not he should marry his girlfriend. That was. . . *snort* *laugh* very interesting.

The E-Lo Meme

2006-07-21T00:13:00.000-04:00

Thanks, E-Lo! Not really, but since you just joined the proud and few of us dragging our asses through 30 year mortgages, why not? 20 Things I Hate 1. Mornings 2. Fleas 3. Pretentious, grandiose, bigoted pricks 4. Dreary days 5. Extremely cold weather 6. Not having clean clothes in the drawer 7. Cleaning the litter boxes 8. Having a dirty house 9. Wasting three hours not being able to figure out a bead pattern . . . grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! 10. High gas prices 11. Not already owning my home 12. Being stupid when I know better 13. People who ride my ass in traffic 14. People who cut me off in traffic 15. Bras 16. Not having answers I want 17. Doubting myself 18. My paralegal job 19. Having debt 20. When I lose my temper with Nate 20 Things I Love 1. Nate (what a great sense of humor!) 2. Nighttime 3. Beads 4. AZ 5. My “job” at the shop 6. My family 7. My friends 8. Blogging 9. My blog family 10. Traveling 11. Writing 12. Laying in the sun naked or at least topless 13. Skinny-dipping 14. The mountains 15. An empty beach 16. Sleeping in the sun 17. A good kiss 18. Sex 19. My cats 20. Ambition I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now.

Bone Tired!

2006-07-19T23:22:00.000-04:00

I am bone tired ya’ll! I just got home from “work” at 10:30 p.m.. I got to “work” at 8:00 a.m. I beaded and reviewed documents until 3:30, then I went to the shop, where I filed and re-did the contract price sheet, met with a client who is not only ordering two necklaces from me, but also wants to a) loan me a newer laptop with bells and whistles and Quickbooks on it so I can b) work for him too since AZ, I’m assuming, gave me a glowing reference. Otherwise, why would a guy who has met me twice now, trust me to input invoices and receipts into his Quickbooks system? So, I know AZ had something to do with it. Probably doesn’t hurt that AZ also uses Quickbooks so I can learn that much faster. It was fucking hot in the shop today. 92 fucking degrees when I left at about 9:30. It was about 89 in the actual office where the poor pitiful A/C was doing what it could to cool that small area. Stands to reason the one week that Nate is at my parents’ place it would be butt fucking hotter than Hades. I have to say though, I’ve kicked some major ass in the shop. Even if it is on the edge of Hades, I love being there, even by myself. The heat and sweat and grime just doesn’t bother me. So far, this has been a good thing for AZ and me. Although I didn’t see him Monday, I did talk to him four or five times, which is good, since it broke the ice after our long talk on Friday. Yesterday, he was in a fantastic mood and we worked on several things before I gave him a long backrub and we talked. When I started rubbing his shoulders he said, “Oh, that feels so good. I’m in misery.” I asked, “Why didn’t you just say so?” “Well, because now I just can’t ask you to rub my back.” I leaned over and whispered, “Yes, you can.” He nodded and smiled, “Yeah, I guess I can.” CHA! He had lips all over my nipples on Friday and yet he’s worried about asking me for a backrub??? CHA! Today was good, just busy and he had to leave early for some other commitments, but we’re adjusting well. Now, I had forgotten to tell you all that Mr. Nate and his sister, Danlel, were playing out at the farm (Jeff’s parents’ place for their greyhounds), and they were playing on a sort of exercising machine for the dogs. A pole came around and whacked Nate in the head and he now has four fine stitches to prove it. I took before and after photos with my cellphone, but the hell if I know when I can send them and download and all that. This was last Friday. AZ and I text-messaged back and forth while I was at the ER, since I had left the shop (and him, mrowr), not 15 minutes prior to the call from Jeff. This severely set back my plans to actually sleep before I went to NC. I beaded while Nate sat on the bed waiting on the doctor. He said, “Mama, I can’t believe you’re beading in this time of crisis.” “Dude, beading helps Mommy calm down. You want me calm right?” “Yeah.” “Furthermore, since you’re bouncing on the bed, talking, breathing, and watching Nickelodeon, I don’t believe this qualifies as a crisis.” I swear, not five minutes later Jeff came in and said, “You’re beading? But Nate is super duper fine and resting comfortably at my parents’ house. Alls well that ends well.

Contortion By Thunderstorm - Opus II

2006-07-18T22:51:00.000-04:00

*NSFW WARNING* The air, magnetized by lightning, swarming with invisible ions, drew them closer, their breathing shallow, almost gasping. Their eyelids flickered open and found themselves gazing at one another and they met swiftly, crushing, their kiss softening and tongues meeting just as quick. Lightening flashed across the sky in flaming streaks sucking electricity into itself. She twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck as he drug her onto his lap. He leaned her back into the post of the porch hard enough to jar them apart and he captured her hands in that instant, pulling and holding them away from him. Kissing and sucking at his lips, she strained against human bounds. She knew that he knew that she loved it and she hated it and that’s why she loved it. They struggled and fought, kissing and nipping and sucking. His silky deep voice stilled her as he said, “Little bitch, I’m going to hurt you.” She slid her tongue up the tendon of his neck, captured his earlobe between her teeth, and challenged him with her own husky voice, “Bring it.” Transformers overloaded and blew out in showering sparks as he turned and slammed them both onto the porch floor, her head and spine cradled by his powerful arms. His eyes reflected the sparks of her own passion and lust, then another bolt of lightning, thunder cracked and rolled, its percussion carrying them into darkness. Pandora's Box was open.

Contortion By Thunderstorm - Opus I

2006-07-17T23:41:00.000-04:00

She loved the scent of him. It rose from his body like the waves radiating off hot pavement. The blistering heat of day had descended into a muggy, cloying heat but neither cared as moisture beaded on their brows and dancing rivulets of sweat trickled down their bent spines. His hand was in her lap where she massaged his long fingers. He brought the corner of his forehead against her’s, rubbing like a needy cat. “Hot and sweaty, like I like my woman,” he said. She felt his eyes on her breast and he twisted his head and even through her shirt and her bra, he unerringly found her nipple and teased it until it strained against the material. Without thought, she found her hands in his hair, urging him on, and from hooded lids, she saw the first streak of lightening. Supple fingers traced through paths of slickness up her bare back to her bra strap and agilely he popped each of the clasps, releasing her, and again, tracing paths of slickness, lifting the damp garment from her skin, exposing her to him and anyone who cared to saunter by. She did not care. His lips and tongue and teeth were on her breast, almost savagely they strained against one another. He was not gentle and she did not want him to be. She looked down into his eyes and he licked first one, then the other, nipple, teasing her. He glanced around her, perhaps seeking one who was not there and again he descended to her breast and she was powerless under the onslaught, and from hooded lids, she saw another streak of lightening, closer, and far in the distance, whether real or simply unheard over the roaring in her ears, thunder. Kissing along his hairline, she inhaled his intoxicating scent, his essence, releasing more as she clawed down his back, raising his t-shirt so she could touch more bare skin. Gliding her hands down his sleekness, she kissed his forehead before raising her arms, bending at the elbows and pulled any hope of cover free from her body. He growled, he fingers biting into the soft skin of her mid-back, over the muscles, over the ribs, where within lay her beating heart. She cupped his face as a streak of lightning arced across the sky and she became aware at last of their gasps and moans as thunder rumbled. His tongue lapped at the sweat between her breasts, that forgotten sensitive spot, and she brought her temple against his and she felt his consciousness raise, as did her’s. Their lips were mere inches apart, their breath co-mingling. Did they dare open this Pandora’s Box after so long?

But. . . Let's See What Happens Tomorrow

2006-07-15T00:55:00.000-04:00

Shop time! AZ and I kicked the guys out of the shop so we could sit and talk and talk we did. I brought up a lot of points to him, didn’t beat around the bush, and he was open and, I feel, honest and so was I, especially about the situation at the shop and the rest of his life, his issues, my life, my issues, us, and our issues. A lot was personal to him so I can’t get into it, but, it was a good start. A very good start. Bad Nanner. *Ahem* Anyway, I have decided that even though unemployment is paltry that if I don’t take the time to work on my jewelry and get a big batch going that I’ll never be successful at it and I really do need to be successful at it. AZ and I worked out a deal. I get space in the shop for all of my beads, tools, etc. as it has now taken over my house and I have beads in a every room, even the bathroom, and I spent too much time looking for what I need. AZ was telling me I could clean out drawers and move racks and things to make it more comfortable. Whatever I wanted. In return, I’ll make sales calls, crack the whip, organize and get a system going, basically, as we’ve skirted around, run the office. I was very direct with him this evening on that measure. I can make sales calls and still bead. Once I get a system going and get him organized, which he hates being disorganized, then hopefully things will smooth out for us all. As much as my house is a disaster, I’m very much a perfectionist, which is why I’m such a good beader, and AZ is very much a perfectionist as well. Yeah, we tend to somewhat alike. Finances will be extremely tight after the end of August here for a while but I have to take this chance. AZ and I are still discussing money issues as neither of us have very much at this time. I’ll have unemployment after this job ends and I’ll have my money from my demonstration at the end of August and whatever else I can sell in jewelry. I have to be juried again to get in another shop, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Only problem is, it is consignment not direct pay. Regardless, I have to do this and try to get things off of the ground. Otherwise, I may as well pack in Peachworks and call it a day. Basically, AZ said I could do whatever I had to do to get things organized, I could have the run of the shop for my beads and work on them anytime, I was to keep the shop running smoothly as far as personnel issues, make sales calls, have the flexibility I need for Nate and doing other things for my beadwork, like fairs and festivals, and tell the guys to shut up and get back to work if I had to, which, I’ll probably have to. We brain-stormed about personnel, sales, marketing, and other shite that would bore you guys to tears and wouldn’t make much sense. His main concern with having me there? Paraphrased, “Keeping my hands off of you,” whilst burying his face between my bare breasts. Somehow, I can’t imagine complaining about that. (Please don't be concerned, just let me enjoy the moment!) Off to NC in the morning to buy beads and see the Mistress of Doom herself, El Sid. Ya’ll have a great weekend.

Moving Right Along

2006-07-13T19:41:00.000-04:00

Let’s talk about Nate’s birthday. Lucky little dog, born just four days after the 4th of July, kind of like his Mama, whose birthday falls in close proximity to Thanksgiving. More often than not, July 4th is the official start of Nate’s birthday. Poor kid. After our aborted attempt to see fireworks on the 3rd, we slept in the next morning and then went to the pool. It stormed again that night. Of course, at 12:01 a.m. on July 7th, we went to the premiere of "Pirates of the Caribbean." On his actual birthday, Nate and I hung out for a while, then he went to his dad’s and had a party, and then the following day Nate and I went back to the pool. This Sunday we’re going to my Mom and Dad’s and I’m assuming my brother and SIL with clan will be there. No one has gotten back to me. I’m supposed to go bead shopping in NC on Saturday... that can’t be messed up, especially since I was at the shop yesterday and the computer guy saw my necklace and wants me to make a necklace for his girlfriend’s birthday. This is where my creativity has gotten me lately.

The Fourteen Years War - TBY - 2004 to The Present - Volumes III & IV

2006-07-12T20:31:00.000-04:00

I orginally had split up the last part of this saga into two parts, but you guys and gals have been so very patient and kind since I started this on Thursday, June 22nd, yes, it's been that long, that I didn't have the heart to make you slog through two more days for more of my insight and decisions concerning this situation. Plus, I'm just so tired. I haven't been sleeping well, as you can imagine. For those of you wondering, AZ is home, we spoke on the phone last night, we saw one another today (and I got a jewelry order from one of his friends, WOOT! I've been very creative lately as well... Uranus in retrograde and all that. (Did you all know, that on July 4th and 5th, Mercury, Neptune, Uranus, Pluto, and Jupiter were all in retrograde? Jupiter went direct on July 6th but it certainly is interesting what those retrogrades can signify and how it's corresponding to my life. Read more about it here. )) Anyway, I hit the tip of the iceberg which was just an honest observation of my fear that someday Jeff will kill me or at least attempt to, and how I live with that fear everyday and I'm sick of it. How's that for a "welcome home?" I may wait until Mercury goes direct again on the 28th before getting into the heavy stuff since Mercury is the planet of communication. Then again, maybe I won't. He's aware that I have some things to say and he was very receptive to having porch time with me when he doesn't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn the following morning. (I added that last part about the ass crack of dawn.) Thanks for hanging with me and thanks for all of your concern and insights. I have a feeling the last half of the year is going to be far more interesting than the first part of the year. As Forrest Gump would say, "I'm tired. I think I'll go home now." When I told T-Bird, she said, "This is not good for you." DUH!!! He may as well be an alcoholic. When I did realize it, I immediately thought of extricating myself from him period. Never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never having anything to do with him. Scary, even for the Giant Peach. Then, I told myself I wasn’t running from this. I can’t change him, but he has told me, "I’m tired of being angry all the time." Perhaps that’s just bullshit talking, maybe it’s not. I’ve always been here for him to talk to, but sometimes, I didn’t know what to say. Now I do. Peeps, I’m not walking away from him for two reasons. Well, there’s more than two but the two most important reasons are: He’s told me he’s tired of being the way he is. Whether this means he’s actually receptive to change I don’t know, time will tell. The most important reason is me. That’s right, me. For 14 1/2 years I’ve skirted, dodged, put up with, tip-toed around, and basically pansy-assed my way around AZ. Do I know how to deal with him? I thought I did, I still think I do for the most part. Do I like it sometimes? Fuck no. What a nasty creature he can be. But there is a connection between us and has been one since the day I walked into his living room and danced. I understand it better now, a whole lot better. I’ve been guilty of giving in to him, of not knowing what to say, or of not saying something because I didn’t want to upset him. That jive is over. I’ve given him control over me through my love for him and his manipulations, whether consciously or subconsciously, for far too long. I’m still learning on how to stand up to Jeff but I definitely need to learn to stand up to AZ. I will not walk away until I learn how to do this. I’m doing research, I’m praying and meditating a lot. I have to take back the control that I’ve given him for ME. All that and then I recognized aspects of myself in what is written about passive-aggressive personalities. All of us will find ourselves in those traits, perhaps not all the time, but at least some of the time. I now can recognize that my housekeeping problem is not only ADHD, not laziness, not being too busy, it’s a passive rebellion against my anal retentive mother. I come from a classic p/a family. My mom was and is, very needy, my father, emotionally unavailable which just made her worse. I lived under tension so tangible it was like having another person in our house. I fear self assertion and confrontation, although I’m getting better. I would like to have someone in my life, but also fear commitment. I’m very independent and no, I don’t like anything that challenges that, to the point of pushing men away. And I loathe someone telling me what to do, not so much at work, it’s expected there, but in my own domain, hence the passive rebellion against my mother even though she’s never here. It also bleeds over into my relationship with Nate. I really hate that. Nate loves video games and he always wants me to watch them with him. I hate video games and although I’ve tried to explain this to him, he is so insistent, and I become the "Yes Mom" to get him to leave me alone. Yes, I’ll be there in a minute, knowing I will stretch that minute as long as I can. And he does it to me so we’re becoming locked in the passive battle. Is this what I want my child to learn??? NO. Which means, I have to change. Just goes to show. . . make sure you don’t live in a glass house before you start throwing stones and often those things we don’t like about other people, are things we don’t like about ourselves. The week before AZ left was trying, very, very trying. His talk of "family is the only thing that keeps me on this Earth," "my life sucks," "I hate my life," and storming out of the shop without saying so much as a goodbye to any of us Friday before last. Telling me he would talk to me about organizing the shop when he gets back. . . yeah right, another way for him to manipulate me, put it off and put him in control. Not. After I told him that I had been writing to him, him saying, "Why don’t you just tell me." That one, I haven’t figured out. Does he really want me to stop writing to him after so long? After 200 or so letters? After telling me for years how much he enjoyed them? Is this just a way to hurt me or push me away? Or does he really want me to talk to him? Does he really want me to find my voice? After all, he’s the oral communicator in this relationship and I’m the written communicator. Verbal communication for me is my final frontier. That pain is so deeply rooted in me, the pain of the verbal lashings I received as a child, the emotional abuse I’ve received is so deep within me, I still quake and quiver when doing the least bit of verbal confronting, but I have done it and I will do it. I will work through this. Maybe he is right. Maybe it is time for me to stop writing to him and start talking to him. The real question is, is that really what he wants? Does he really want me to open my mouth and let the truth come out? I cannot change anything about my past, but I can work through it and I will. I cannot change AZ in the least, but I can change the way I react to him and I can change the way I deal with him and I will. Now I see, and I hope some of you understand, AZ has always been a catalyst of change for me. Not every moment has been shining, not every moment has been made in heaven, but when he opens up to me, when he reaches out to me, when he touches me, when he lays his forehead against mine, when I feel his pain, anger, and yearning, I cannot turn away. I must face all of this. The good and the bad. I cannot fear what is to come. I must be strong for myself. I cannot doubt that I will come out on the other side stronger, wiser, and happier. If he wants it bad enough, he will too, and if he doesn’t, then I’ll still be stronger, wiser, and happier. I’ll tell you what else T-Bird had to say about all of this, not about the part about me, because I haven’t told her, because I hadn’t figured it out yet, but the part about AZ. "I wouldn’t waste my breath." Well, peeps, I wonder how she would have felt had I said that about her. Sorry, you’re unhealthy and broken. You’ll never change. It doesn’t matter that you’ve said you don’t want to be the way you are anymore, it doesn’t matter how you’ve tried, it just doesn’t matter because I’m not going to waste. my. breath. How many "broken" people do you know who have changed their lives? Well, you’re looking at one of them and I’m not stopping. I’ll never stop. That is my nature. Yes, AZ and I are locked in passive battle as well. I can see it. I can see how we each manifest our anger and fear in different ways and how we ricochet off of each other. Do you think we enjoy being this way? Do think we enjoy being alone, and worse, lonely? Do you not understand how it hurts my heart to be angry and afraid all the time? I live under constant fear and sometimes an anger wells inside of me that I don’t understand. Do you not think I understand when AZ says, "I don’t want to be angry anymore." I understand very well. So, if you wouldn’t waste your breath, then please, go look in the mirror and congratulate yourself on having a perfect life with all of your perfect family and your perfect friends. Remember that anger that wells up? That’s it, right there. I’ve always felt broken, different, odd, strange, ad nauseum, but I’m worth it and I deserve so much more than I’m allowing myself to have because I’m really not any more broken, more different, odder or stranger than anyone else. I’ve just been lead to believe that. Whether it seems arrogant or not, I was born a healer, an empathic healer. I was born with a gift and that gift was mangled and abused to the point that I hated it. Not anymore. I have to embrace it, I have to heal myself again in order to heal those around me. And I wasn’t the only one born with the gift. . . may the passive battle become active healing. Someone pass me an onion. Oh, never mind, I think I found one last night.

Cease. Fire.

2006-07-12T01:26:00.000-04:00

It has become apparent that I will not be able to wait until Volumes III and IV have been properly posted and digested before the onion peeling tirades shall commence. For those of you unfamiliar with onion peeling, you may read about it here. It's long and it's not pretty towards the end. Well, none of it is pretty. *FEELING VICTIMIZED - The p/a woman protests that others unfairly accuse her rather than owning up to their own misdeeds. To remain above reproach, she sets herself up as the apparently hapless, innocent victim of your excessive demands and tirades. Aimee asked that I not do this anymore so I will attempt to find a why for it first. Certainly, I can see that I’ve done this. However, I do tend to be forthcoming with my failings and I do realize when I’m not doing what I should. I’ll throw out here that perhaps this particular symptom only comes into play when I’m actually the victim of something, I just compound it by actually playing the part. I’ll offer you up a memory of my childhood. I was perhaps five or six years old at the time, maybe older, but not much older. My mother and I are sitting on the floor of my bedroom and it’s probably a bit messy. There is a small navy blue suitcase with wide tan stripes on it laying open on the floor. Inside, from what I can recall, there are underwear and socks. My mother is raining down verbal fire and brimstone, berating me for not cleaning out my suitcase from an overnight stay at my grandparents’ house. She is so angry. Her voice always took a different tone when she was like that. She always asked me questions that I could not answer. Why are you so dolus? (This word was one of her favorites and means: evil intent, embracing both malice and fraud.) Why are you so lazy? Why can’t you just (fill in the evil blank)? When she got like that, I stayed silent. Any attempt to defend myself just brought on more of the same. Are you cringing yet? Because I am. Because I knew what happened next. The slapping. My head, my shoulders, my bare arms, my bare legs, and the hair pulling. She always kept my hair short as a child and she would grasp the little hairs at the nape of my neck and give it a good swift tug upwards. You wanna feel pain? That is pain. Then, of course, I would try to appease her by being "the good child," by doing what she wanted. But, that wasn’t good enough either because she rejected the attempts that I made because I should have done it before. I should not have had to be reminded. I should have done it the first time. I should have done it right the first time. This was not an isolated incident. This happened more often than not. It was always something. My father didn’t say anything, if he was even around to say anything. She was much calmer at times when he was home, meaning, she vented against him instead of me. He was the one she went after. So, he became my savior. I loved my Daddy when I was a little girl. Not that I don’t now, but God I loved him so much when I was little. When he came home, I knew she would leave me alone. Granted, it was still terrible because they would fight and the tension, argh, the tension. And that is what I could not tell her that day. I’m not sure if she had yelled at me, or yelled at my brother, or yelled at my dad after I came home from my grandparents’ house, but the tension, the tension was so heavy. I went up to my room, got my little navy blue and tan striped suitcase from underneath the bed, and put my socks and underwear in it. It wasn’t my clothes from my grandparents’ house that she had found, it was where I had packed to run away from home. The day she came up to my room and found the clothes, I don’t remember what she was so angry about. I know I saw it in her face, I felt it as she slapped me, I heard it as she yelled at me, and I felt it inside of me. The most terrifying thing was not the words, or the pain, or what I saw, it was what I felt inside of me because I could feel her anger as though it was my own. Overwhelming percussions waves of anger and hate and violence and loathing and disgust. I was afraid because I could feel inside of her, I could see inside of her. I could feel that she wanted to choke me, beat me, strangle me, slap me, she wanted to hurt me. She wanted to kill me. That’s how angry she was. I’m still afraid and it manifests itself everyday and my co-dependent traits slide right in there with it. Everyday about two o’clock, I become afraid to pick Nate up from Jeff’s. I’m afraid that in my absence something I did or didn’t do will have made Jeff mad, and when I get there to pick Nate up, he’ll confront me. And I’m six years old again. When AZ left for Boston, I was afraid the entire time he was gone, afraid he wouldn’t come home. Then I was afraid when he got home that he would be angry with me although he had no reason to be angry as I had done nothing for him to be angry about. He’s gone on numerous trips out of town and he’s never come home angry at me for anything. Yet, when he returns, I desperately want to talk to him and see him, but I’m afraid to. He’s never even raised his voice to me, how could I be afraid? But I am. It’s that way with my parents, when I haven’t seen or talked to them in a while. Fear. Anytime I travel out of town, I come home with fear in my heart that there’s something I haven’t done or something I have done that has pissed someone off while I was gone. Fear. So, can you imagine the freak that gets loose in my mind when I actually do something wrong? When I make a mistake? Yes, the freak runs loose but the freak admits wrongdoing and the freak makes amends. But if someone won’t let go of what I did wrong, if they keep picking at me, if they pick on me at all, then yes, I start seeing less and less of what I did wrong and focus on being the victim, on throwing it back on my accuser. I no longer care if I’ve done anything wrong, because they’re more wrong and if they’re more wrong then I’m right and I’m not six years old anymore being beaten about the head and shoulders, my hair pulled, my bare legs and arms slapped, being degraded and berated and told I’m lazy and dolus over a FUCKING SUITCASE NO BIGGER THAN A BRIEFCASE WITH A COUPLE OF PAIRS OF SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR IN IT! IT WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS! SHE SHOULD HAVE NEVER TREATED ME THAT WAY. I DIDN’T DESERVE IT! NO ONE DESERVES IT. BUT IT HAPPENED TO ME AND I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING! NOTHING! I HAD NO ONE THERE TO PROTECT ME! I HAD NO VOICE. YOU WEREN’T THERE. YOU DIDN’T SEE HOW SHE LOOKED AT ME. YOU DIDN’T FEEL HOW MUCH SHE HATED ME. YOU DIDN’T FEEL HOW ANGRY SHE WAS. AND YOU CAN’T FEEL HOW MUCH I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND IT. HOW I STILL DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. I’M SURE SOME OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND HOW MAD THAT MAKES ME. I’M SURE SOME OF YOU CAN UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANGRY I AM, BUT YOU’RE FAR AWAY. YOU CAN’T REACH OUT YOUR HAND AND TOUCH ME PHYSICALLY. AND COULD YOU LEAN YOUR FOREHEAD AGAINST MINE AND IN TWO WORDS MAKE MY WORLD SO MUCH BETTER? WOULD I EVEN LET YOU? MY GUESS IS NO. BECAUSE I WILL LIE TO YOU. I WILL TELL YOU EVERYTHING IS BETTER BECAUSE I DON’T WANT YOU INSIDE OF ME EVEN WHEN I WANT DESPERATELY TO BE CLOSE TO YOU. THAT’S WHAT IT’S LIKE. DESPERATELY WANTING TO BE CLOSE TO SOMEONE AND NOT BEING ABLE TO. NO, MINE AND AZ’S RELATIONSHIP MAY NOT BE MADE IN HEAVEN, IT MAY NOT BE THE HEALTHIEST, BUT HE IS THE ONLY PERSON THAT WHEN HE GRABS MY FACE, KISSES MY FOREHEAD AND SAYS, "I UNDERSTAND," MAKES ME FEEL BETTER BECAUSE I KNOW HE’S BEEN THERE. HE HAS WALKED THROUGH THE SAME GATE OF HELL WITH ME. THE SUITCASE STORY UP THERE, ONE OF MANY, MANY MORE THAT HE HAS HEARD BECAUSE HE WAS THE ONE WHO TALKED ME DOWN AND HELD ME WHEN I WAS DRUNK AND CRYING BECAUSE I WAS SO HURT AND ANGRY AND SCARED, BECAUSE HE HAS READ HUNDREDS OF MY LETTERS, WRITTEN ON BAR NAPKINS AND LEGAL PADS AND NOTEBOOK PAPER AND MATCHBOX COVERS AND TYPED, TYPED, TYPED, TYPED ON THIS COMPUTER. But, it makes me sad and angry that he understands because then I know how he feels inside. And I love him so much, I don’t want him to feel this way. I don’t ever want anyone to feel this way.

The Fourteen Years War - TBY - 2004 to Present - Volume II

2006-07-11T19:47:00.000-04:00

I’m not the least bit pleased to have figured out why our relationship has been the way it has. I almost screamed to the heavens, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Between the guys at the shop, writing this, Cybele and Brighton, and my own insatiable curiosity, analytical brain, and non-stop reflection, I’ve determined that AZ and I are passive-aggressive individuals. Just look it up, you may find our picture beside of the definition. Here’s a list (just replace the masculine with the feminine): FEAR OF DEPENDENCY - Unsure of his autonomy & afraid of being alone, he fights his dependency needs - usually by trying to control you. FEAR OF INTIMACY - Guarded & often mistrustful, he is reluctant to show his emotional fragility. He's often out of touch with his feelings, reflexively denying feelings he thinks will "trap" or reveal him, like love. He picks fights to create distance. FEAR OF COMPETITION - Feeling inadequate, he is unable to compete with other men in work and love. He may operate either as a self-sabotaging wimp with a pattern of failure, or he'll be the tyrant, setting himself up as unassailable and perfect, needing to eliminate any threat to his power. *OBSTRUCTIONISM - Just tell a p/a man what you want, no matter how small, and he may promise to get it for you. But he won't say when, and he"ll do it deliberately slowly just to frustrate you. Maybe he won't comply at all. He blocks any real progress he sees to your getting your way. *FOSTERING CHAOS - The p/a man prefers to leave the puzzle incomplete, the job undone. *FEELING VICTIMIZED - The p/a man protests that others unfairly accuse him rather than owning up to his own misdeeds. To remain above reproach, he sets himself up as the apparently hapless, innocent victim of your excessive demands and tirades. *MAKING EXCUSES & LYING - The p/a man reaches as far as he can to fabricate excuses for not fulfilling promises. As a way of withholding information, affirmation or love - to have power over you - the p/a man may choose to make up a story rather than give you a straight answer. *PROCRASTINATION - The p/a man has an odd sense of time - he believes that deadlines don't exist for him. *CHRONIC LATENESS & FORGETFULNESS - One of the most infuriating & inconsiderate of all p/a traits is his inability to arrive on time. By keeping you waiting, he sets the ground rules of the relationship. And his selective forgetting - used only when he wants to avoid an obligation. *AMBIGUITY - He is master of mixed messages and sitting on fences. When he tells you something, you may still walk away wondering if he actually said yes or no. *SULKING - Feeling put upon when he is unable to live up to his promises or obligations, the p/a man retreats from pressures around him and sulks, pouts and withdraws. I don’t know what made me look this up. I don’t know how it all came together. I just don’t know. I know that when I read this, I screamed inside for two very good reasons. Me and him. Deep, dark discussions to follow in Volumes III and IV.

The Fourteen Years War - The Blogging Years - 2004 to 2006 - Volume I

2006-07-10T18:09:00.000-04:00

Are you ready for this? Are you really ready? Fine, continue. I’m now getting into the Blogging Years. As far as Jeff is concerned, he was still as unstable as the wind. I believe though, it was 2004 when he told me he was very sorry he hadn’t been there for me and Nate, he had made mistakes, and he saw how much he had hurt me. Honestly, I had already put it behind me but it was apparent he had not and needed to make that amend with me. He probably also asked me to marry him at some point in a drunken stupor. I obviously said no. I did eventually call Lex and we start seeing one another. Seeing Lex was odd and strange in some ways. It was the first time I had actually dated someone that AZ knew, was friends was, worked with, and saw me with. I went up to the radio station one morning and took them breakfast. Very strange. Very odd. It didn’t stop me though. Lex stopped me. As much as those two complain about each other, it’s because they are so much alike, and so very different. AZ and I talked a lot during my relationship with Lex but we never talked about Lex and I. We talked about everything but Lex and I. I, however, made it a point to tell Lex things first, even if I wanted to tell AZ. I worked my way out of emotionally cheating in my relationship with Lex. If something happened, I told Lex first, got his input, got his point of view, then I told AZ. It was hard too. It was even harder when Lex didn’t take much interest in some things that were important to me, whereas AZ took interest in just about everything. As things started going south with Lex, I resisted the urge to talk to AZ about it. Not just because they were friends but also because I wanted to handle it on my own. It wasn’t until far after the fact that AZ got an earful about my relationship with Lex, why things went south, and my frustrations and hurt, especially after AZ called me and had both he and Lex on the phone at the same time. I was so livid and I wrote a nasty letter about it to him. Which he promptly received and called me about. I also learned a valuable lesson, don’t date any of AZ’s friends if things aren’t “resolved” with AZ. Towards the end of 2004, I wrote a post called, “Reason, Season, Lifetime.” It was about feeling as though I had moved past AZ emotionally, essentially outgrown him. In many ways I have. I’m even more aware of it now. However, the end of 2005 brought about another change for AZ and I. It was the first time he told me about his father’s death to a large degree. We talked a lot in the Fall, as usual. When I went down to visit Sid in NC, it was on the anniversary of his father’s death. For the first time ever, he called me after a trip to find out if I had made it home safe. Unfortunately, I was still on the road when he called and then of course, I didn’t hear from him again until January. I’ve blogged mightily about Jeff and AZ in the past two years. But putting all of this down, running through it year to year, as been not been the least bit cathartic to me. I have brought up a lot of old hurts and that’s all they are... old. However, I don’t ever see my relationship with Jeff changing. He’ll still be an alcoholic and I’m counting down the days to when I’ll no longer HAVE to see him, speak to him, or otherwise be involved in his life. I want to be able to have a choice as to when I deal with him. What this has done has shed a great deal of light on the situation with AZ. Since he was been absent last week, the guys at the shop were very honest and forthcoming with what goes on there. I’ve always known there was SOMETHING, something I wasn’t putting my finger on, something besides the depression that I was missing, something that would explain everything. I’ve searched high and low for a long time, not just now, but for many years to explain my relationship with AZ. I found it.

The Fourteen Years War - 2003 - Volume II

2006-07-09T18:59:00.000-04:00

You’ll notice, that around the end of the year, AZ and I tend to end up together in some fashion. We’re speaking or seeing each other. There’s no easy explanation for this. I know why, but I don’t know why. I understand, but I don’t understand. See, AZ’s father died suddenly within a few days after AZ’s birthday. His dad was only 52 or 53 years old. AZ begins his spiral downward around Thanksgiving and doesn’t come up for air until around the New Year’s. Same pattern, year after year. We do talk to each other more around this time. Yes, we normally see each other too. Nothing different this year. AZ comes by the house to pick up some baked goodies and we have, “a moment.” After which, he’s sitting on my couch with this look of utter. . . despair. I can pretty much remember what he said but that’s very personal to him. The nutshell version is depression. Heaping dark clouds of doom. I talked to him about many things, many personal things, things from his past, things I never, ever had a clue about. There are a lot of things over the years, especially since the winter of 2003 that we’ve talked about that I can’t write about. Not here anyway. Those things shouldn’t be shared. Just imagine you’ve told someone some of your deepest, darkest secrets. Things you had never told another human being in your life. Imagine cutting your soul open and letting someone look inside. Imagine yourself as vulnerable as you can make yourself. That’s what the conversation was like. It answered a lot of unspoken questions, things I had wondered about, and personality quirks he had. So, now I understood better. . . but why did he tell me? Why is it me he turns to? And why is it me he walks away from? Because he did and he does. You might think after such a heart to heart, after such demons are bared, that we might have moved forward, maybe even towards being together as a couple, as opposed to “just friends with some benefits.” No. He walked away and basically shut down. Regardless, I tried as best I could to encourage him to seek help. I just tried to listen and talk to him, talk him through, talk him down. I wouldn’t say he ignored me, but he suddenly became very busy, and I wrote him a long letter and still encouraged him. Honestly, it frustrated me that at one moment we could be so close and the next, he’s hiding under that Scorpio moon, basically dodging me. That irritated me. It irritated me enough to ask him for Lex’s number, which he conveniently couldn’t find. I asked him three times over the course of three weeks. The geeks worked together! Don’t tell me he didn’t have Lex’s number! I was very frustrated. It was that same bullshit. AZ didn’t want me, was pushing me away, seeing someone else, but would not give me a simple damn phone number. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. . . But when has that ever stopped me?

The Fourteen Years War - 2003 - Volume I

2006-07-08T21:09:00.000-04:00

Honestly, this year as far as Jeff goes is just a blur. I know he was still Jeff. Still getting drunk and drugged up on occasion, and spewing his rhetorical shit. I can’t remember anything outstanding as far as Jeff goes about 2003. As far as AZ and I, our phone conversations were titillating to say the least. One day, he called me and said, “They cut down our tree.” “Our tree” referencing the tree beside of the radio station that we had our tryst under back when. By now, way back when. Every phone conversation slipped into our past, the pre-Jeff past. I’d finally had enough and sometime during late Spring, I finally told him either we needed to fish or cut bait. Either we needed to be together or we needed to stop living in the past. It was too hard on me. He came down one evening and we spent the entire night, from about 11 p.m. until 6 a.m., watching movies, talking, and his receiving an extended back rub. No. We didn’t discuss us or where we were going or where we weren’t going. That was as much my fault as his. And no, we were not chaste. As he left that morning, he stopped before getting into his car and looked back at me, like he was committing that moment to memory. Since things had calmed down, for the most part, with Jeff, I finally felt more comfortable about going out, and most of the time it was to a local bar where AZ did a live remote every Wednesday. The place was often packed by the time I got there, and as I would weave my way through the bar, I would feel eyes on me and like a tuning fork, I would turn and AZ would be smiling at me. Once, I was at Monday Night Football, eating wings, drinking beer, and trying to watch football, when this guy kept turning around to talk to me. He was. . . not so interesting. I really wasn’t in the mood since I was trying to eat and drink, follow the game, and the third eye in the center of my forehead was tracking AZ as he schmoozed. In just a few moments, two guys from the radio station I was acquainted with brought chairs over and insinuated themselves at my table which effectively cock-blocked Mr. Non-Interesting. Then AZ came over and brought a chair. Now I have four people at a two person table. When Mr. Non-Interesting got up and left, I whispered to AZ that I was glad the guys had come over since I wasn’t sure Mr. Non-Interesting was going to leave me alone. He whispered back, “I sent them over to rescue you. I told them, ‘Go save her.’” *Laugh* What a great memory that is. However, at the end of the year, it was once again AZ’s birthday and I went over the local bar and grill to help him celebrate the big 4-0. (For the record, AZ is 7 years older than I am and Jeff is 8.) I sat down and he brought Lex over to the table so we could keep each other company. I had known of Lex for a long time and we had cris-crossed numerous times in our Hair Band Days but Lex is sort of like the wind, if you hesitate he could be gone and I had hesitated a lot in my younger days. But we struck up one hell of a conversation that night. Enough that, given the fact AZ was dating Joanie or Joan or whatever the hell I call her, I decided that seeing Lex again might not be a bad thing, except, he was AZ’s friend and they worked together. Danger, Danger! Thing is, Lex walked away and said, “Call me sometime, babe. AZ has my number.” And again, he was gone like the wind. I stood there with my mouth open wanting to call him back and get his number then but he had already disappeared into the bar crowd and AZ was standing right there. Decisions, decisions. Happy Birthday to my Nate. He's 10 today!

The Fourteen Years War - 2002 - Volume I and Only One Again and Yet Again

2006-07-07T22:08:00.000-04:00

Having filed for custody of Nate, I spent a lot of time worrying over the situation. AZ knew what was going on and encouraged me to stay the course and not give an inch. Jeff wasn’t helping matters much. To my knowledge, he was still drinking and drugging and trying to sling shit in my direction. Oh, and he found religion, for about three weeks or so. At some point, whether at this time or another, Lo, who was STILL married to, and I ganged up on him and tried to get him committed to rehab. This was after he spent an entire evening driving around drunk as hell, stopping by MY HOUSE to get a light for a cigarette, and then falling and screwing up his face. The bitch called and said he couldn’t see Nate because he had had a bad night. Well, fuck that noise. Jeff did eventually go to rehab, three times. It was the only way he was allowed to see Nate. Then, he fell off the wagon again. He got drunk/stoned one night and tried to call the bitch. Her daughter and Jeff’s nephew were hanging out together and thought it was some guy trying to call the daughter so they kept hanging up on Jeff. The bitch was sound asleep under the influence of Klonipin. That is, until Jeff showed up and dragged her out of the house by her hair and beat her. He blacked both her eyes and busted her eardrum before the police showed up, the same police force he used to work for, and arrested him. What a fucking mess. Any steps forward to determining our custody matter went straight out the door. My lawyer cut out the newspaper article and faxed it to his lawyer, telling her that Jeff would be agreeing to our terms or we would move to have his parental rights revoked. Jeff and I finally settled the matter after he completed an Anger Management Course. Can you believe, after all that, the bastard wanted to be the “primary custodian?” Yeah. Again, fuck that noise. Not only that, he turned down extra custodial time. So, he wanted control of the situation, but he didn’t really want to spend time with Nate. Manipulative, controlling asshole. In the meantime, Holland was getting worse and worse and he finally moved out. I had thrown him out earlier but he was too drunk to realize it. Luckily for him, he never, ever came home drunk when Nate could have seen him. He didn’t sit around and drink in front of Nate, nor was he ever mean to Nate in anyway. Matter of fact, Holland was one of my biggest supporters in what I was doing with Jeff. He knew what it was like growing up with an alcoholic for a father. Too bad he didn’t learn any lessons from it. I finally broke down and came clean with AZ, whether via phone conversations or via the multitude of letters I wrote to him. (There will be an epilogue about the letters when this whole schmear is done.) Working through my latest slide down the slippery slope of co-dependency and dealing with Jeff’s continued bullshit, took us into 2003.

The Fourteen Years War - 2001 - Volume I and Again Only One

2006-07-07T08:30:00.000-04:00

I had decided to move on from AZ and began dating Holland, the drunk, in early January. I still wasn’t sure things were going to work out and they didn’t in the long run. I was under the impression that Holland was on the wagon with his drinking and was sucked in way too deep by the time I determined that indeed, he was never on the wagon. Remember that slippery slope of alcoholism and co-dependency, well, they go hand in hand. The Spring and Summer of 2001, Jeff had started having problems at the department. His back problem had gotten worse and he was drinking more. The bitch he was dating didn’t help anything. Another co-dependent, she fed his addiction and dependency on her. I suppose that’s the pot calling the kettle black except I don’t think she ever really saw the problem with it, whereas I spent my time reading up on AA. Life with Holland was a roller coaster. Drunk - sober - drunk - jail - sober. I blogged about it here and here. No need to root that piece of shit up. I spoke with AZ around March or May and we were comparing our relationships. He had finally ditched Jean and was now seeing a woman named Joanie. I simmered a bit at that. Not that it would have done much good as I was full to the teeth with Holland at the time. As things spiraled out of control with Holland, they also spiraled out of control with Jeff. AZ and I weren’t talking much and if we did, it wasn’t about our relationships. I’ve pretty much learned if I can’t be honest about my relationship with him, then it’s probably not very good. By October, Jeff was the worst I have ever seen him. Hateful, moody, drunk, and stoned on prescription painkillers. The bitch girlfriend was always around and for the most part, Jeff kept it together when the kids were around, or so I thought. I forgot that drunks hide a lot and lie a lot. Jeff didn’t keep his promise though, Danlel and Nate both told me how he had gotten angry at Nate and turned around in the car and started wailing on Nate with his fist. I filed custody papers and got a temporary injunction to keep Nate away from him. My grandfather died suddenly in October, things with Jeff were out of control, I found myself dealing with Holland’s drunk ass more times than I cared to count. I was making excuses and down right lying about him to the people in my life. I spent too many evenings waiting for the police number to show up on the Caller ID. I missed an important deadline at work. I was depressed and angry. I still remembered AZ’s birthday though, but since I was back to Ms. Co-Dependent, I really didn’t have much to say except about the situation with Jeff. Again, if I can’t talk to AZ about it, if I’m too afraid to be honest with him, then something just isn’t right in my life. Pirates of the Caribbean KICKED ASS!! The ending was absolutely perfect.

The Fourteen Years War - 2000 - Volume I and Only One

2006-07-05T19:54:00.000-04:00

Of and on during the early months of 2000, AZ and I would steal moments together. We still talked on the phone but his reluctance to come out with what was going on with him and Jean finally wore me down. T-Bird and family moved in with me July 4th weekend and stayed for a mind bending three months. AZ and I were still talking and I did more than my fair share of convincing him to come and see me. Part of me felt guilty over that, part of me didn’t. The part that felt guilty was the part that told me I should leave well enough alone and that getting further involved would just put me back, pseudosorta, where I had been with Jeff before. The other side said, fuck it. I wanted AZ, period. Didn’t work out that way. AZ did come to see me, which resulted in me asking some tough questions about his relationship with Jean. I wanted to know, once and for all, what the deal was and why was he visiting me and talking to me the way he was if he was engaged to be married to her. He still wasn’t giving me any answers. He stood in my living room trying to find words that wouldn’t come out. I pushed harder and he finally told me that he had asked her to marry him and she said yes. Then she reneged and said no, she wasn’t sure, then she was sure, then she wasn’t. I was incredulous. I yelled at him across the room, “She told you NO? Is she a fucking idiot?? How could she say yes and then no and then yes? What kind of fucked up game is that? And she’s still living with you? Where is this going?” He just nodded and said quietly, “I know.” I finally told him that if he wasn’t getting what he wanted or needed at home, then he didn’t need to come looking for it from me. Fix it or forget it. It wasn’t really physically, after all, we weren’t kissing or having sex, it was emotional. He was cheating more emotionally than he was physically. I think I may have thrown out there that he needed to dump her and be with me. Yes, I think I actually said it that way. That didn’t happen. As it goes with AZ, it took another year or two to get the rest of the story. Things were starting to go south with Jeff as well. In November 2000, I found bruises in the perfect shape of Jeff’s fingers on Nate’s butt. I confronted him on my birthday, and told him that it was unacceptable for him to spank Nate that hard. He had stepped over the line to abuse. At first he denied it, then accused me of not disciplining Nate enough, then admitted he had “probably” spanked Nate when was too angry. I told him if it happened again I would take action and he made me prove it. By the end of 2000, I had met Holland the drunk. Addendum - I just read the continuing chapters of this saga, up through 2003, which is as far as I've gotten. I had an "A-ha" moment. It was saddening but enlightening and just changed the course of my relationship with AZ. Lo once told me I was a healer. Being an empath, you get used to drawing people to you that are in emotional crisis. Like a good salve, we draw out the poison, but to do so without poisoning ourselves takes a certain finesse. Luckily, I know when I'm in over my head. I know when to duck and run. I know when to dive for cover. I know how to keep myself from being poisoned. Yes, the last year of this saga will either be the end of my relationship with AZ or it will be the beginning of another long road for us.

The Fourteen Years War - 1999 - Volume II

2006-07-05T06:46:00.000-04:00

A month after I moved in, you’ll never guess who moved in with me. No, not AZ or Jeff, but Lo and Danlel, Jeff’s wife and daughter. The rent on their apartment had raised and Lo was unwilling to move back in with her parents. So, they stayed with me for a month. In that month, I went for my first psychic reading and Jeff tried some shitty custody thing with Danlel, saying Lo wasn’t providing a home for her. Bullshit. Kind of hard to say she isn’t providing a home when I had a roof and four walls. It may have been my roof and walls but what was the difference in that and living with Lo’s parents, the same exact place they went every time they had separated. Pffft! We got Danlel back. This would be a good time to mention that Jeff didn’t officially become Nate’s father until July 7th, 1998. The day before Nate’s second birthday. Jeff had refused to sign the custody papers in the hospital because he didn’t want his name published along with mine and Nate’s in the newspaper. And, for the record, Nate has MY last name, even though we could have changed it. Jeff didn’t push it and I left it. As for my reading, besides picking up on Jeff, the psychic asked to see something that belonged to me, so I gave her the key to my house. What she said blew me away. She said (paraphrasing) - The dark eyed, dark haired man has this same key and he’s used it to enter your home. Whoa. Years later... AZ and I were talking and he told me, “You know, I think I have a key to your house on this old key ring of mine. I’m positive this your key.” By then, I had already changed the locks but it didn’t matter. So long after the fact, the little voice in my head and the psychic were confirmed to be correct. Jeff and I had met an uneasy truce and he started seeing Nate regularly, and helped with child care and pre-school, although he whined about me buying the house, saying he had always hoped that he and I would buy a house together. Whatever. At the very end of 1999, AZ came to my house and basically, we had a moment. I won’t relate what happened, only that it lead to more questions about his relationship with Jean and his own happiness. It would take another 10 months to find out the answers I wanted.

Cease Fire - 4th of July

2006-07-04T16:55:00.000-04:00

I’d like to wish everyone a wonderful 4th of July holiday. Nate and I went to the fireworks last night and heard our wonderful symphony orchestra play. The themes from “Superman” and “E.T.” as well as selections from “South Pacific” and an Armed Forces salute, “God Bless America” and “Colors of the Wind” from Pocahontas. It was really beautiful, until I noticed those storm clouds coming in from the west. I thought maybe it was just heat lightning until I felt that cool wind blowing. Bad news. Can you say, “Deluge.” They announced at 15 after 10 that the storm was in my town and heading our direction with high winds and hail. Can you say, “Mass exodus?” Sure ya can. Nate’s sister called from across the river (amazingly she and her grandfather were exactly across the river from us) and said she had talked to Jeff and he said it was already raining there. I took Nate and headed toward my office building, which had a clearer path than the parking garage but as we came out of the narrow alley saw sheets of rain coming down the street. We turned and ran for an underground parking garage. Have you ever seen blue lightning? I have. Nate said, “Mommy, I didn’t know you could run that fast.” I said, “Dude, Mommy ran track.” While we escaped the majority of the storm, many had to take shelter in doorways and one person was injured when lightning struck about 30 ft. from them at the amphitheater where we had just been. Blue frickin’ lightning! It was one of those storms where the lightning hasn’t even faded before the thunder is cracking overhead, right on top of you. Mother Nature definitely showed up those firework schmucks. Now, Nate and I are both sunburned from a day at the pool. I was right, Beth. That red sun last night boded well for our sunbathing and swimming plans. Nate and I also went to the cinema and picked up pre-sale tickets for the midnight showing of “Pirates of the Caribbean - Dead Man’s Chest.” I’m crazy, I know. The movie starts at 12:01 a.m., runs for 2 hours and 41 minutes, then the mass exodus (I like that term today) and hopefully we’ll be home by 3 a.m. and I have to be up by 6 a.m. for work. I’m napping before we go. AZ is out of town and asked me to keep an eye on things at the shop, particularly one person. I was at the shop for 45 minutes yesterday and we already have a lot to talk about. I don’t like it when people take advantage of other people. I like it less when it’s my friends. I like even less when it’s AZ, and it just plain pisses me the fuck off when he lets them because he’s either too tired, too busy, or too fucking nice. Just call me “Don Peach Corleone,” it’s not personal, it’s business. This is our INDEPENDENCE DAY!

The Fourteen Years War - 1999 - Volume I

2006-07-04T00:18:00.000-04:00

By late January, AZ had talked me into applying for a mortgage loan. I wanted to be pre-approved so that whenever I found a place I wouldn’t have to worry about the loan issue. I was approved and we started scanning the market for a good place for me and Nate. Being alone together, without fear of interruption, was still not our forte. At the house on Hudson Street, standing in the emptiness of the living room, he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. It was like it was us looking for a home, not just me. Once we were at the real estate office together and were caught in a compromising position by the fax machine. *Laugh* However, he was still with Jean. I knew something was wrong there, but still couldn’t figure out what. AZ avoided my questions and often mumbled and murmured about what was going on. Anytime we were alone, he was very affectionate with me, like he was starved for it. I know AZ and I know how he is, I knew something was wrong. Whether unwilling to tell me or unwilling to admit it to himself, it went undiscussed. AZ called a day or two after my grandmother passed away in April and told me in no uncertain terms to meet me at a particular house. I felt as though it was out of my price range but AZ insisted that I meet him there. It was everything I had ever wanted. Close to the train tracks, three bedrooms, nice yard for Nate, and roses were already planted beside of the porch. I told him I would think about it and the following day I called and told him I wanted to make an offer on the house. We met at the real estate office to fill out the paperwork and when I told him the price, he gave me a classic AZ look. "Just do it, they can counteroffer if they want to." He agreed and put it down and took my earnest money. That was on a Saturday. The next day would have been my grandmother’s birthday so I went back to the homestead to spend time with my family. When I got home, there were seven calls from AZ on my Caller ID. He was at an open house and was calling to tell me they had accepted my offer. The next month I spent getting the house inspected and preparing to move. At the closing, AZ and I sat side by side, across the table from the other realtor and the lawyer. As I was signing my life away for the next 30 years, AZ started making snarky comments under his breath about the other realtor and then started the "LOVE-ly" thing. "LOVE-ly" was a sarcastic, roll your eyes, LOVE-ly. He was making me giggle under my breath and I whispered for him to stop but he kept on until I joined in. Then, to make Freud proud, out slipped, "I love you." Yep, right there in my closing. My mouth dropped open and AZ looked a bit surprised as well. Then while my face turned red and I wanted to wither away in my seat, AZ smiled. Eventually, all of the papers were signed and AZ dangled the key out to me. I almost asked, "Did you keep a copy for yourself?" Inside, a tiny voice answered, "He already has one." I know the look on my face must have changed briefly but I smiled and took the key.

The Fourteen Years War - 1998 - Volume I and Only One

2006-07-02T15:39:00.000-04:00

I spent most of my time working through my problems and dealing with the previous two years, rebuilding my relationship with my parents and AZ, while keeping Jeff at arm’s length. Jeff and his brother decided they wanted to take the kids on vacation and Jeff asked me to go to help out with an almost two year old Nate. Nate had not spent more than a weekend away from me and he was concerned that he would miss me too much. Jeff said it would be strictly platonic. I didn’t stay the entire trip as I had to work but it was enough to get Nate acclimated. A few weeks following the trip, Jeff dropped the bomb on me about wanting us to get back together. He and I met and we walked around the track together. He said, "Why do you think I asked you to go on the trip? Because I love you!" That manipulative asshole, I told him I couldn’t. I didn’t feel the same way and I had feelings for someone else. He badgered me about who and I told him, "AZ." I told him that I didn’t know if things would ever work out between AZ and I but I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to be with Jeff. Jeff’s shoulders slumped and a look of resignation and defeat came across his face. He said, "You probably should have been with him all along." I found out later that he had also attempted a reconciliation with Lo. She actually went back to him, but left within a few months and never went back. Sometime later, we met again at a local watering hole and gave me an accumulation of all the cards, letters, photographs, and other mementoes collected over our time together. It’s still in the drawer in my bedroom. I know he kept a few things and that’s okay. Around Halloween, I cut 12 inches off of my hair and daringly took Nate with me to a remote the radio station was having. When I got out of my car, I saw AZ in the distance and it took my breath away. I said to myself, "Oh my God, I still love him." Afterwards, AZ told me he was studying for his realtor’s license. I promised him if he passed, I would buy a house from him. He did pass. I followed through on my word and using the money I had obtained from a car accident, paid off my debts, and put money back for a down payment. One incident that I recall from late 1998, was going to Monday Night Football and seeing AZ there. I walked up to the bar where he was sitting to ask about a drawing they were having. A woman at the bar turned and answered for him. AZ didn’t turn, look at me, or speak. I was shocked and went back to my table shaking my head. He called me the following day to apologize, telling me the woman was one of Jean’s friends and basically, he didn’t want to get into trouble for talking to me. I reminded him it was his job to be friendly and nice to everyone and more so, I had never ignored him. I asked him what kind of relationship they had when he couldn’t even speak to another woman for fear of getting the riot act. He had no answer. I was deeply concerned.

The Fourteen Years War - 1997 - Volume II

2006-07-01T22:43:00.000-04:00

A week or so later, I broke it off with Jeff for the last time. Jeff got drunk and came down to my place crying and weeping, broiling for a fight. It did him no good. Unemotionally, I told him it was finally over. I wouldn’t keep Nate from him but I was moving on. Emotionally, I was clinging to AZ. I needed that stability and encouragement. No one really believed for a while that Jeff and I would stay apart. I believed it. I told AZ one Sunday that one of the reasons I had stayed with Jeff was because I didn’t think anyone else would want me. My body had changed and I referenced my trip to the grocery store. AZ said, "I know you didn’t want to see me and I hoped you had gotten the message. And, I would still press you up against a building anytime." That being a reference to one our trysts in which he had me up against the outside of the radio station, under the tree, the night the train hit a car at the crossing, and the helicopter flew over. He was good for my soul. Nate spent his first Christmas with Jeff’s family that year. Jeff still had something up his sleeve for the coming year. . . but so did I.

The Fourteen Years War - 1997 - Volume I

2006-06-30T18:52:00.000-04:00

No one in Jeff’s family but his parents knew about Nate and they had never seen him. Jeff was still with Lo until he told her about Nate on her birthday in January. I was still alone and AZ and I were still snarking at each other. I got a new job in June as a paralegal. Since Jeff and Lo had separated, I thought Jeff and I would start rebuilding our relationship, which went no where. We fought all the time. I would cry and go into Nate’s room and tell him how sorry I was that I couldn’t make things work out. My days were filled with work and Nate. I did nothing else. Then, two incidents happened that changed everything. The first was that one Saturday, I had to go to the grocery store. It was a bad time. I was emotionally and physically a wreck. I looked horrible, I felt horrible, my eyes were red from crying and I just prayed I didn’t see anyone I knew, especially AZ. Nate was old enough to sit up by himself in the buggy, so it was between February and April. Of course, I ran straight into AZ. I inwardly cringed as I spoke to him. The look he gave me was one of, "What the fuck have you let him do to you?" Disgust, perhaps a bit of anger. I remember exactly what I was wearing that day. A shapeless over large, long-sleeved tan shirt, and a pair of shapeless, over large wine colored pants. I threw those clothes away and started fighting the depression. I also started demanding answers from Jeff, which only escalated our fighting. I started getting hives when he would come for his once a month, 15 minute visits. The second, definitely changed everything. I was on my way home from work, traveling down Rte. 25 toward the bridge over the river, when I heard on the radio that AZ was engaged. I burst into tears. I was crying so hard I could barely see, breath, or drive. I took a deep breath somewhere and said to the radio, "I don’t think so. He’s not marrying anyone but me." Then I felt guilty. Over the next few days, I knew that all I wanted for AZ was that he be happy. I gathered my courage and called him at the station. I told him I had heard about his engagement and I wanted to congratulate him. His response, "Yeah." I said, "You don’t sound very happy for someone who just got engaged." His next response was practically non-responsive. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what the problem was. That would take almost three more years. Let me tell you now, and then the incident where I found out I can tell about when I get to sometime in October 2000. He asked her, she said yes, then she said, well, maybe not. You don’t ever tell AZ yes, and then, well, maybe not, because the "not" is going to stick. Regardless, AZ stepped up and encouraged me to look for help in raising Nate, as in babysitting and things of that nature, from the State. I wasn’t getting any child support and Jeff had given me about $150 for Nate’s first year of life. I could tell in the time that we had spent apart that AZ had changed. He was very gentle with me. Not snarky. I was surprised because before he could be pretty hard-line about things. He gave me something that weekend. He gave me hope. He also told me that he worked the early shift every Sunday morning, 6 to 10, and since it was so quiet, it was probably the best time to talk to him. He didn’t have to tell me twice.

Cease Fire

2006-06-30T00:00:00.000-04:00

Please stand by for an immediate update * Nate asked me to buy him a scratch off lottery ticket last Friday. He won $200 and he has 40 something still left. He was soooo thrilled and one of the things he figured he should do with it was donate some to charity. Guess how many times we’ve been through the McDonald’s drive thru to donate to the Make A Wish foundation? I think I’ve gained 5 lbs. * AZ is leaving for Boston either tomorrow or Saturday. Nate and I worked at the shop until about 11 last night. AZ has talked about just staying here and I have told him he is leaving. He is going to Boston, otherwise I will severely hurt his cranky grouchy bear ass. * I had to cart one of my best friend’s home this evening. She recently started coming clean about being an alcoholic. I came clean about having boundaries when it comes to alcoholics. She called, said she was drunk, I told her to sit tight, I dropped Nate at T-Bird’s, I drove to where she was, got her keys, put her in the car, and drove her home. She wanted to come to my house to "sleep it off," what I call, "avoiding the consequences of driving my parents’ car drunk." She begged me not to do it. Begged me to turn around. Nope. Remember how I JUST BLOGGED ABOUT CO-DEPENDENCY???? Remember it is a SLIPPERY SLOPE? We’re not 15 and 14 anymore, we’re 35 and 34. If I had allowed her to stay here, then I would have enabled her to avoid and lie to her parents and lie to herself. I just don’t do that anymore. I hated it, but I had to do what I did. Girl, I know you read this sometimes, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I love you, but I love myself, my sanity, and the place I am with the whole co-dependency thing too much to backslide. Now it’s time for the MAJOR ANNOUNCEMENT My co-worker should thank Brighton for saving his life. I had to make an emergency phone call to Brighton today due to my co-worker’s idiotic remarks. We’ll just call them by some nicknames, shall we? The Lass says she is going to a baby shower this weekend for a friend. This is the friend’s 2nd child in 3 years. Obviously, a trend is developing where peeps have baby showers for every baby they have, as opposed to just the first. The Italian says he doesn’t allow his wife to go to 2nd baby showers nor baby showers for illegitimate babies. The Lass says, "Well, they’re the ones who probably need it the most." The Italian responds, "Well, she can send a gift but she’s not celebrating some chick getting knocked up out of wedlock." That stabbed me in the heart. It really got to me. I half turned in my seat and I said, "Well as the mother of an illegitimate child, I can tell you that my child is just as special as yours." The Italian looks surprised and says, "I know!" The Lass says, "The baby shower is for the baby, to give things for the baby, not to condone or condemn the mother." I’m paraphrasing since my second head was trying to push it’s way through my shoulder and I can feel my tongue splitting. The Italian responds something of the nature, "I don’t think you should be celebrating someone getting knocked up out of wedlock." I turn both of my heads all the way around, pea soup flying everywhere, my forked tongue now flicking out of my mouth, eyes of red, and I said, "All life deserves to be celebrated regardless of the circumstances." Or something like that, as by this time that red film had descended, there’s this roaring in my ears, and the distinctive sound of a snake’s rattle. I guess, maybe, I said it with enough passion and probably a bit of, you know, venom, that he figured he wasn’t going to win this battle and backed down. Now, the reason I got so upset, besides the fact that he didn’t mention the schmuck who happened to help knock up this chick, was because that’s exactly how my family treated me when I had my baby shower. No one from my family was there because they didn’t want to condone my illicit behavior. I think you all can tell, this was no fucking cakewalk for me. I was not any happier about the situation than they were, but, I was carrying a child, LIFE, inside of ME! This innocent baby, who had nothing whatsoever to do with the shitty circumstances. Shall I wear the Scarlet Letter as well? Navy Boy tried to egg things on, almost to the point of cruelty after the Italian left for lunch. I didn’t respond in anyway. I didn’t look at him and I didn’t speak to him. I was so mad and upset, it took me an hour to calm down and that was only after I placed my emergency six minute phone call to B. (B’s response: Oh, Catholic huh, he probably has little dick syndrome.) No offense to my Catholic readers. I almost called my mother and confronted her about my baby shower. I wanted to know if it made her feel good, to know, that she will never, ever see her daughter pregnant again, nor will she ever attend any festivities welcoming said child to the world. See, not everything is water under the bridge. Sometimes that old shit, it rears its ugly head. But you know what? I remembered I was there. I was at my baby shower. I was there for the birth of my son. I look at him today and I love him with such incredible intensity. I love his big heart and the way he makes funny faces. It no longer matters to me how he got here, it only matters that he’s here and he touches the lives around him in a good way. I had, and continue to have, every right to celebrate the incredible gift of this child. He’s made me a better, stronger person. I love you, Natty. The Fourteen Years War will continue tomorrow

The Fourteen Years War - 1996 - Volume II

2006-06-28T23:43:00.000-04:00

Nate's birth story is here. As you will note, Jeff called and bitched at me on July 7th because he wished I would just have “that goddamn baby.” Why? Because he had a trip planned with his other family around the time I was due. Jeff missed the birth but he did come to the hospital after his shift. He left on his vacation and called me from MD. It was barely a 3 minute call but it was enough to spiral me into a darkness of which I had never known. I was depressed, my hormones were going nuts, and Nate never slept. That day he and I cried relentlessly. I thought I was losing my mind. Nate nursed me dry, I was weak from my blood loss during birth, and I felt totally alone. AZ did nothing to help that. I called and left a message on his voice mail that I had given birth, gave him all the vital stats, and tried to act like everything was okay. When he called me back, the first thing he said was, “You can’t call me at home anymore. Jean is living with me now and she was upset when she heard your message.” I was speechless. I remember saying something like, “I just wanted you to know that I had the baby.” “I know, but don’t call me at home anymore. Don’t call me at home.” Ohhhhhh... I see, don’t call you at home, but call you at work. Yeah, I got it. Whatever. Belatedly he said congratulations. I wrote AZ off, for about two months. Out of spite, I called him at work. He knew I was just being spiteful too. I think he likes that about me. We were back to snarking at each other. Our conversations were far and few between, almost as far and few between as the times Jeff saw Nate. I worked, I took care of Nate, I fought with Jeff. End of year.

The Fourteen Years War - 1996 - Volume I

2006-06-28T23:40:00.000-04:00

I finally had to tell my parents in mid-January that I was pregnant with their first grandchild. Oh, the humanity! Jeff and Lo were still together and Jeff and I were seeing less and less of each other. I remember going to the bar once to see AZ when I was pretty far along. I remember he frowned at me for smoking a cigarette. For the most part though, I didn’t have much to say to AZ. I was too busy dealing with Jeff. I felt lucky that T-Bird had come into my life. In February or March, I had the ultrasound that would show what we were having and true to form, it was a boy. Jeff did go with me to find out and when I looked at the monitor and saw Nate’s face the first time, I told Jeff in elevator afterwards, “He looks just like you.” Jeff didn’t have much to say. Most of the time, I was dealing with my family, and dealing with the fact that Jeff called more than he saw me, and never touched me. It was a very lonely time. I had virtually no support but T-Bird and my co-workers. I didn’t have much to say to AZ because although I felt trapped in my relationship with Jeff, felt that I should stay with him, felt that I should stay with the father of my child, felt that I should make everything okay, I missed him terribly. I also regretted a lot of things and those who mattered most, my family and Jeff, made me feel as though I was damaged goods. On May 4th, Jeff called me late at night, around 11:30. His shift commander had confronted him about me and my pregnancy. Jeff denied the child I was carrying was his so he decided he would call and tell me about it. I cried and cried and cried after we got off the phone. Heaping, wailing sobs for at least two or three hours. I still got up the next morning and went to work. Around 11:00 I started feeling uncomfortable. My Braxton-Hicks contractions were picking up, or so I thought, until I started timing them. I didn’t feel anything if I stood up and walked around but sitting down, I was starting to feel a burn. I called my OB’s office, which was just a street over. They told me to come in for a check. Once they got Nate settled down enough and got the monitor on me correctly, my contractions were three minutes apart. I called T-Bird and she came to pick me up. We went to the hospital where I called Jeff. He didn’t offer to show up. I was dehydrated and had a bladder infection. They shot me up with antibiotics, fluids, and that crazy icy stuff that stops your contractions. My doctor came in later and checked my cervix (can I begin to tell you how gentle he is) and pronounced me fit as a fiddle or closed, which is better. I still had some residual contractions and took a day off from work and then a half a day. Worse, I laid in bed at night and wished Jeff away. I wished AZ was the father of my son. After May 5th, it just got worse. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, “AZ would have been there. He would have been there for you and his son.” After all the writing I’ve done and remembering, I probably wasn’t far off the mark. It got me through.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume III

2006-06-28T06:15:00.000-04:00

Another Haunted Trail came and went. So did the due date for my period. My bronchitis came back, worse than ever. On November 3rd, I went to my doctor. Before prescribing any antibiotics, I had to have a blood test done since my period was late (and my boobs were sore and I was exhausted). As I walked to his office for the results, I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t pregnant. Right. The doctor broke it to me gently. He said I had options. I fired back, "I’m not having an abortion." He smiled and said, "I’m glad." He referred me to an OB-GYN. I called Jeff when I got back to the office. He knew what was going on and he asked what the doctor said, "It’s not good," was my reply. I think I cried for the next nine months. Jeff met me at my place as I took the rest of the day off work. He mentioned abortion and I shut him down too. I was fearful of telling my family especially, but more fearful of Jeff. He had always told me if I got pregnant he would push me down a flight of stairs and I took him seriously. To me, that was my baby and no one was taking it away from me. He looked at me and said, "It’s a boy." I shot back, "I know!" A little over a month after we found out, Jeff got ripped at an office party and showed up at my place. It was the last time we ever had sex. AZ’s response when I told him about the baby was very controlled. He wanted to know if Jeff had moved in with me and I said, "No. He lied about that." Then AZ wanted to know if I had told my mother. Somehow, he has a way of knocking me upside the head without ever touching me. "No, I’m waiting to make sure nothing happens to the baby. No use getting them all upset for nothing." He was not amused. Frankly, neither was I.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume II

2006-06-27T17:27:00.000-04:00

So, I worked again and afterwards I went to the radio station and AZ and I hung out. Afterwards, we dropped by the post office and AZ convinced me I really did want to go home with him. Not like it took much convincing. We may have even had to the, "You can’t be very happy with her/him if you’re here with me" conversation. I do remember that as I was getting dressed, AZ came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked at him in the mirror and he looked at me. I had seen this in my dreams a hundred times. I still have the jeans I was wearing that night, even though I’ve long outgrown them, I can’t bear to throw them away. It was the last time we kissed. Even though AZ offered me a job, I knew my parents and Jeff would not approve, plus I needed a job with benefits. Two weeks later I went to Atlanta to see Jeff and we went sight-seeing at Stone Mountain. I came home and got a job with a temp agency and eventually landed a full-time gig in the accounting department of a large construction materials manufacturer. I bought a small trailer from a girl I knew from college and moved out of my parent’s house into the city I live now. Well, it wasn’t in the city limits but close enough. Honestly, I thought that when I moved, things with me and Jeff would get better. They didn’t. I moved in July of 1995, and by September, we were on the skids, big time. I was growing more and more disenchanted with the fact I was now autonomous and had my own place and Jeff and were spending less and less time together. I was tired of the excuses and bullshit. I can see now that not only had I outgrown my parents, I was outgrowing Jeff as well. He promised me he was getting a divorce and said he might need a place to stay, could he possibly stay with me. I said he could if he filed for divorce. Around that time AZ called me. I told him what was going on and he asked if he could call me. I told him that Jeff may be staying with me. Understandably, he was not hearing any of that noise and told me to forget it. (I try not to regret these pivotal moments in my life because they brought me to where I am now and let us not forget, AZ was still seeing Jean.) The bad feelings between Jeff and I persisted until October. I had a few vacation days at my job I had to use before the end of the year and I convinced Jeff to allow me to go to Knoxville, TN with him for an FOP convention to try and patch things up. Did I mention at the end of September I had had a horrible case of bronchitis and I had to take antibiotics? Jeff decided while we were there that he would show me where he and Lo had gotten married. I sat there incredulous as he drove me by the church. Karma is a bitch. Nanner got knocked up in Knoxville. I think Jeff and I knew it the moment it happened. It put a pall on the remaining day we had. I questioned Jeff on the way back about the fact his elder son’s grandmother has passed away and how he was going to explain the fact he and Lo were divorcing. "I don’t know!" I knew in that moment that Jeff had lied to me. He wasn’t really divorcing Lo and I hated the fact I had given up another opportunity to be with AZ because of his lies and my stupidity. I don’t know who I hated more at that moment.

The Fourteen Years War - 1995 - Volume I

2006-06-26T22:56:00.000-04:00

1995 started out with Jeff going to Atlanta for polygraph school. I was unemployed and my parents were spending a lot of time at their new farm, which left me with a lot of time on my hands. I spent most of my days with my friend Markie (female), who was my neighbor and is deaf. We would drink coffee, smoke, and watch the O.J. Simpson trial. With Jeff gone, I was free also to go out. I spent many evenings at AZ’s bar. He had purchased the bar with a friend of his (Mike). I didn’t drink much while there, I spent more time talking to the blind guy and reading a book. AZ was dating, well, I’ll call her Jean. One night I went in and sat down as usual. AZ wasn’t there but the Mike was and he asked what I had planned, was I busy etc. I said I wasn’t and didn’t have any plans and he asked me to work because a couple of waitresses had called off. So, I threw on a t-shirt and started waiting tables. AZ came in a little later and the crowd thickened. It was a busy night but around 1 a.m., AZ said he had to back to the radio station to do some work. He asked me to come down after we closed. I said I would. After Mike and I finally shooed all the drunks out the door at 2:00 or so, we cleaned up. Mike was a very good looking guy but had a steady girlfriend. I liked him though and he liked me and we were somewhat attracted to each other. We ended up laying on the pool table together, not touching, talking about how he had his girlfriend (who I believe he actually married) and how I had Jeff and we shouldn’t even be contemplating doing anything at all. We laughed and I told him I had to get out of there so I could go see AZ. Mike went ballistic. "No, no, no, no, you can’t go see AZ. I have to go see AZ and if he knew that you and I were here together this late he would be pissed (upset? jealous? - can’t remember his exact words). I stared at Mike and then laughed, "Mike, AZ is not going to be jealous. He knows if I’m going to cheat on Jeff, it will be with him. It’s not a big deal. AZ will not be mad." Mike persisted in a dead panic about AZ not knowing we were there so long together and alone. I finally relented and went home, while Mike went to the radio station. The following evening the phone rang. It was AZ. Practically the first words out of his mouth were, "What happened between you and Mike?" My mouth dropped open, "Nothing! And if he said any different then he’s lying! We didn’t even touch each other. Didn’t kiss, nothing!" I recounted the entire evening after he left, including mine and Mike’s conversation. There was a pause and AZ said, "What makes you think I wouldn’t be jealous?" My mouth dropped open again. "I, well, I don’t know, you just never acted jealous before." "Just because I don’t act jealous doesn’t mean that I’m not." *Gulp* Reminder: I’m seeing Jeff and AZ is seeing Jean. Jean is important later on. "Can you work tonight?" "Sure." "Are you going to come and see me after work?" "Yes."

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume III

2006-06-26T17:52:00.000-04:00

By this time, I was in way far deep with Jeff. He had worked his magic on me. I say that because I was very co-dependent at the time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still co-dependent, just not an active member of the Co-Dependent Society. I see co-dependency the same as I do alcoholism, you can slide down the slippery slope. This was around the same time I was in counseling for the sexual abuse and looking back, I can say I shouldn’t have been any new relationships. Sometimes it is hard to see your own vulnerabilities. Jeff and I spent as much time loving as we did fighting. He was (and is) very jealous. He controlled me in much the same way Julie had controlled AZ, through fear and love. On occasion, we would go out to a remote camp, drink, fight, have sex, laugh, or whatever. I warned him that we had to be careful since he wasn’t actually divorced and the other officers were going to pick up on our relationship, which he 100% denied. Why he didn’t think anyone would notice is still totally beyond me. One of our favorite meeting places was that same park where we had first met. There was one particular shelter that sat at the top of a hill. I became very adept at recognizing the distinctive sound of a police cruiser coming up that hill. Once, we caught a peeping tom up there. Guess who the peeping tom was peeping on? An off-duty police officer and his illicit girlfriend. It wasn’t his best day. I got a pager and Jeff and I became very skilled at sending each other messages via numerical code. We could call from any phone and tell the other where we were and where we were going to be. I hung out at a local club where Jeff worked overtime. It was behind that club that Jeff and I kissed the first time. The pager also became a convenient way for Jeff to break up with me. I would be driving down the road and out of the blue, boom, he would tell me he didn’t want to see me anymore ... via pager. This would persist for a few days, just enough time for me to cry it out and attempt to move on when he would page me, want to see me, etc. I see now it was a cat and mouse game. He kept me off balance enough to keep me in line, which as you can probably tell, was a full time job. As Viggo says, "The nurse in me, won’t let me leave." AZ was often not far from my thoughts, and there were many times that I missed him. Although he and I fussed, it was nothing compared to the knock down, drag outs that Jeff and I had. It was nothing like dealing with Jeff and Lo reconciling for the kids’ birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas when Jeff’s older son would come in from out-of-state. My disenchantment waxed and waned. AZ and I still talked but kept a decent distant from one another physically. By the end of 1994, Jeff had been promoted to the detective bureau and subsequently would be spending time in Atlanta, GA to learn how to run a polygraph. Oh, how when the cat’s away, the mouse shall play. Next... 1995

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume II

2006-06-26T07:59:00.000-04:00

When Jeff and his wife separated, we started seeing each other on the sly. Oh Holy Hera! Did we ever! And then, he and his wife reconciled for a period of time and then they separated and then they reconciled, over and over and over. I have no doubt that Jeff didn’t love her but he loved his daughter. Now, fucking fantastic, I was stuck between two men, both of which I loved, both of which were doing things to stay with "their children". I totally understand that but some of it, I didn’t understand. Eventually, I heard that AZ was having a remote for the radio station and as Jeff was off somewhere or mad at me or something, I went to see him. He was sitting at the bar like the world was sitting on his shoulders. I sat down with him and asked him what was wrong. Julie, the horse ugly fat bitch? Yeah, she didn’t have cancer. Healthy as a fat ugly horse. I asked AZ, "So, who finally tipped you off?" He looked at me with death in his eyes. "My Mom. You don’t seem very surprised, like a lot of my other friends." I told him I had suspected all along she was lying but it was pretty much confirmed when I saw her. He was furious. "Why didn’t you say something?" I told him that I wasn’t willing to risk our friendship over her, he refused to listen anyway, and that he knew I loved him and I was afraid he would have thought I was only jealous. I was jealous, not of the child, but of Julie. He denied he would have thought any of those things. I hate to tell him, but I’m not sure he would have. Sometimes you don’t realize how deep you’re in until you’re out. Oh, the reason Lex left? Because he found old tapes of when "Jenny" had called the radio station and compared them electronically to the voice tapes of Julie when she had called. He said they matched. He quit his job and left. That’s right. "Jenny" didn’t die because Jenny and Julie were the same person. CAN YOU FUCKING IMAGINE?????

The Fourteen Years War - 1994 - Volume I

2006-06-25T22:12:00.000-04:00

1994 found AZ back at his old radio station. They had rehired him even after his assault on their ratings. They figured it would be better to have the fox back in the henhouse. But not before he met a woman, I don’t recall her name, we’ll call her "Jenny." (This is the background as provided by Lex) "Jenny" used to call AZ and Lex at the other radio station. Both of them were very fond of "Jenny," even though they never met. Obviously she called the station quite often to talk to them. I suspect it was often over the midnight shift, when all others are sleeping, that she did this. "Jenny" was very depressed though and called either Lex or AZ one evening and said she was going to end it all. Her sister, Julie, called a few days later to inform them that "Jenny" had in fact committed suicide. Needless to say, AZ and Lex were both very distraught, especially given the fact "Jenny" had a small child who Julie took custody of. Then Julie started calling and talking, especially to AZ. Lex found something very fishy about the situation and finally quit the station and moved to Ireland, not returning until his father was terminally ill with cancer. AZ started talking about Julie and the child. When I saw photographs of AZ and the child together, I was shocked at how much they resembled one another, even though I could tell the child was of mixed race. AZ then informed me that Julie had leukemia and her prognosis was not good. Of course, AZ, having been very close to "Jenny," now took over the father role to this young child, even taking him to kindergarten his first day. AZ was like any other parent, consumed by his child. Julie began taking over more and more household responsibilities. AZ bought a house so that the child would have his own bedroom after Julie passed away. One time she passed out while cleaning snow from her car, so her condition was not getting any better. It was around this time that I met Jeff again as a student rider for the police department. I can’t say again that sparks flew, as I was very cautious around anyone with a gun. However, after a few eight hour shifts together, it was apparent, something was happening between us. Jeff even knew about AZ and knew how much I cared for him. I remember sobbing in AZ’s kitchen about falling in love with Jeff. Frankly, AZ quietly warned me away from the situation. I didn’t listen though and the reason I didn’t is because there was no way I could compete with Julie and the child. AZ pushed me away when it came to them. I finally saw this Julie woman one night at the bar. I had stopped in for a beer and conversation with AZ when she brought the child in the bar at 11:00 at night. He could not have been more than 4 or 5 years old at the time. I saw my worst nightmare. A horse ugly fat bitch who looked nothing like a cancer patient, carrying the one thing AZ loved most in the world. I was stunned out of my mind. AZ knew I still loved him. Any attempts to talk to him about Julie and the child went unheeded, the same as his speech to me about Jeff. I felt like I had lost him and I would never, ever have a chance with him, no matter how much I loved him. As I said, he was consumed and I became consumed with Jeff.

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume III

2006-06-24T00:19:00.000-04:00

I did call him. I went to see him and explained everything. I cried and I figured he and my mother had had quite the pow-wow on the phone and he had had time to deal with it before I talked to him about it. He was the first man to touch me sexually after that happened. He did all the right things. Two things stand out in my mind. The first was when he ran his hand up my naked back and he stopped and drew a breath. I’m not sure if was my vertebrae sticking out or the fact my skin had broken out terribly along my shoulders, which is very unusual for me. Regardless, I knew it was either of those which drew him up short and, as I said, I was very sensitive about the weight I had lost and how I looked, so I stopped short too. Wow, this is one of those tough things that hurts, in a way, to remember. I wanted to crawl away in a hole. I did. I was ashamed and scared that he was going to reject me. If I remember correctly, I was sprawled out on top of him, it’s dark, but I knew my eyes were closed, my head was hanging, and he brought my forehead to his lips and enveloped me in his arms. On occasion, he still kisses my forehead, and it’s the same rush of love and acceptance every time. The second thing was after we fell asleep. AZ has a king size bed not just because he’s tall but also because he flops like a fish out of water, not to mention, he’s a very light sleeper. The noise of the answering machine kicking on, in a closed drawer, under a wadded up t-shirt could still wake him. Having slept with him before, I knew this, so I perched on the edge of the bed allowing him the maximum room to flop. But I had a dream. Must have not been a very good one because he told me later I was moaning and twitching, all guaranteed to keep him awake. All I remember is trying to get out of the dream. You know where you’re trying really hard to wake up and it’s like you’re swimming up from the depths? That kind. The scary, chest crushing kind. I felt like I was literally clawing my way out of something. Then I sat straight up in the bed. I tired, disoriented, and scared. AZ sat up too, wrapped his arms around me, and laid me back down, still in his arms, still holding me tight, soothing me. All the right things. Who knew life would step in and clobber us? The fall of 1993, saw me back in college, taking more advanced classes where I met a member of the police department which Jeff worked for. My instructor was the chief of the detective bureau and was a member of the FOP. He invited to me to participate in the annual Haunted Trail held at a local park. I was still a bit leery but since it meant possible brown-nosing points, I gamely signed on. I was some kind of screaming witch and the Lieutenant said, "Hey Nanner, scream for Jeff here." And I did. That was mine and Jeff’s first meeting. Nothing Earth shattering, no sidelong glances, not another word spoken between us. Things get a bit fuzzy toward the end of 1993, but I know this was around this time that a woman named Julie came into Steve’s life. Between Julie and Jeff, AZ and I would find ourselves at impasse after impasse in 1994. That story is one of the most incredible I’ve ever heard or been a pseudo party to. (Lex filled in many missing blanks in this story, so you will get the full story, not just the half-assed one that I did for so many years.) Our year had started out with two people getting to know each other better and asking questions, blue bras, ice cubes, and that yellow dress he loved to take off of me. It ended with Julie having a direct influence on my relationship with AZ and therefore, later with Jeff and we began a steady decline into 1994.

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume II

2006-06-24T00:15:00.000-04:00

AZ really didn’t have much of a chance to anyway because in February of 1993, I was sexually abused by a former classmate of mine. I wrote about it here. Yes, a very hard time would begin for me. I stopped going out with my friends, I skipped class, I stopped eating, I stopped seeing AZ too. I couldn’t stand for a man to touch me. I was really close to an ex-boyfriend of mine and we would curl up on the couch in the Art Building and nap together between classes. One day he laid down beside of me and I freaked out. Right now, I weigh around 135. At the height of this insanity I weighed about 105, twenty pounds less than my normal weight. Not hard to accomplish when you’re only eating one bite of food a day. Once I started dealing with it, my weight crept up a bit but still I was painfully skinny and very sensitive about it. My boss and our district manager knew what had happened and decided I might do well with a change of scenery, so after college was out for the summer they sent me to another work site out of state for a few weeks. It ended up being something like two and a half weeks and I called home to let my Mom know that I was coming home. (Luckily, my Mom’s sister lived within five miles of the place I was working so I was well looked after while I was there.) My Mom said, “AZ called. He was worried about you. Said he hasn’t heard from you in a while. He’d like for you to call him when you get back.”

The Fourteen Years War - 1993 - Volume I

2006-06-24T00:08:00.000-04:00

1993 dawned bright and clear. Frankly, I don’t know how it dawned, but having celebrated AZ’s birthday in December and receiving my first and only Christmas card from him, it appeared as though things were going to be starting out okay. 1993 is both fuzzy and deathly clear. In January and the beginning of February, I don’t remember a whole lot. I know that sometime in the 92-93 segue, I had heard AZ talking on the radio about some ex-girlfriend and it got my back up. (Ya’ll know what “got my back up” means, right? Like a cat or a porcupine? Yeah? Okay.) I mentioned it to him and he asked, “Why do you care?” I said, “Because it’s mean.” He said, “Well, you’ve never been my girlfriend, so I wasn’t talking about you.” *Pause* “Why haven’t we ever dated?” *Pause* “Don’t know.” Then came the inevitable question of, “If you have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend, then what are we doing here?” And then the inevitable snark, “Well, you must not be very happy with him if you’re here with me.” And the retort snark, “Well, you can’t be very happy with her if you’re here with me either.” Talk about talking around something. Then came the incident about the address book, which I blogged about but will put the pertinent part here. We were laying in the bed. He was on his back and I was curled up next to him since its always arctic cold when we sleep (whether together or separately) and I was just drifting off when he ran his hand up my back and he said, "Hey." I raised my head and looked at him but he didn't look at me. "Know what I did the other day?" "No, what?" "I went through my address book and I erased people right out of my life." That sent a chill right up my spine. The finality of his words. "Oh." "But when I got your name, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make myself erase you," and then he looked at me and I saw anger and pain in his eyes, and then they softened. I don't remember what I said, but I do know I probably kissed him and ran my hand down his chest. Then I would have turned over and he would have pulled me flush against him, draping his left arm over my waist, our hands intertwined and tucked between my breasts as we slept. Sometime after that, we hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks and he called me, so I went to see him. Now, AZ was just not one for coming out with emotional things and to hear him say things sometimes takes me full off guard (like last night when he was pissy with me because I had made a flyby of the shop and didn’t spend anytime with him - that man... *sigh*) but that day, we were laying in bed, and he said, “I missed you.” I hate to even write these words out. I hate it. God, but I fucked that up and royally. Fuck. My response was a light-hearted, “Are you on drugs?” Yeah. Smooth. Wonder he even speaks to me, huh? Ever want to snatch your words back onto your mouth? There was no recovery from that, even when I realized, he actually meant it and it meant a lot for him to say it. Again, it would have helped had I known a little bit more about him. However, not a great moment. Guess who wouldn’t speak to me for a while? Yeah.

1992 - 1993 Segue

2006-06-23T00:30:00.000-04:00

Yes, both AZ and I dated other people during the year of 1992. Yes, we were still together during that time, even when we were dating other people. No, to my knowledge, neither of us had sexual relations with any of those significant others. Tough questions and hard times would follow in 1993.

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume III

2006-06-23T00:24:00.000-04:00

This was also the time that my relationship with my parents grew rockier and rockier as they tried to rein me in as I was attempting to spread my wings and old issues popping up between my mom and I, I did start a short-lived downward spiral. I say short-lived because of two incidents. I had headed out early, stopping at Beki’s apartment, hit the water bong with her, her roommate, and her roommate’s boyfriend, then popped a few speed pills, drank a beer or two, and then went out dancing. I hit a joint behind the club with the bartender and proceeded to drink even more beer and probably a few B-52's. Had a few more pills, toked up, had a few more beers. By quitting time, I was trashed, but eerily sober, somber, and paranoid. AZ was working midnight shift at the radio station, and although I had often snuck into the other radio station to sit with him, not to mention that little tryst in the sound-proof room, this was a different story. I called him from the bus station crying, practically hysterical, because I couldn’t find him. He ordered me to get back in my car, lock the doors, and drive forthwith to his apartment and wait for him there. The bus station at 4 a.m. dressed like an 80's band whore, not exactly my glowing moment. Did I mention it was snowing? Did I mention how short my hot pants were? Did I mention I didn’t have a jacket? I did make it to AZ’s house in one piece, now more than just upset but also terrified because I had freaked out. It had to be hard for AZ to wait out his shift, not knowing whether I had actually made it to his place or not. It was I who was bleary eyed and disheveled as he angrily jerked up on the door handle of my car and then strode away in the pre-dawn light. It was cold and I was shaking from chills and coming down whatever I had put in my body that night. One of his friends came by and they talked while I shivered and dozed on the couch. Eventually, his friend left and AZ practically picked me up off the couch and carried me to the bed. He was angry and had basically let me lay on the couch shivering as penance. He didn’t say a whole lot but I knew he was upset and that bothered me. Fast forward a couple of weeks. Almost same scenario, I just didn’t call him this time. I was just asleep in my car when he got home from work. The same angry jerk on the door handle, this time, more vocal, as in, “Get your ass out of the car and into the house. Have you ever thought about what would happen if it wasn’t me who was pulling on your door handle? What if it was the cops or someone else?” I didn’t answer, I just followed. As I got to the doorway, he turned and said, “Don’t come in here with those clothes on. Go get some other clothes out of the car.” I hated him very briefly in that moment. I trudged back out to the car, got some clothes, and with attitude, changed. Petulant was I, oh so petulant. He was waiting for me in the living room. His bottom lip drawn up, eyes glittering, that “stop fucking with me” aura seeping out of his pores. I wasn’t so petulant then, I was back to terrified. I really expected him to tell me to get the fuck out and never come back. I expected him to yell at me to stop sleeping in front his house and just stop, stop everything, just get out and never come back. I expected the worst. I expected the yelling and insults to rain down on me. That’s what I was used to, having shit thrown back in my face. I’m not sure now if he met me in the middle of the room or if I sat beside of him, I just don’t recall. I do remember his words though. “Nanner, you’re very beautiful and you don’t need to dress like that to get attention.” As you know, that is not what I had been expecting. It floored me and I’m pretty sure I started crying and I’m pretty sure he hugged me and I think he said something about, “Please don’t ever do this again.” *Laugh* And since it was probably 7 a.m. in the morning, we went to bed. After gathering my courage and petulance back, I grumbled, “Why did you make me change my clothes if you were just going to take them off of me again? You pissed me off.” A smug grin played out along his face, “I know.” How could I do anything but laugh? He got me and I never did that again. Once you start getting to know someone, you start developing patterns. Now, the wild drinking, semi-drugging, wasted phase didn’t last long (relatively speaking), but the dancing and laughing and fussing, it continued. I would describe us as “unstable” at that time. Not just because of me but also what AZ was dealing with, those things I didn’t find out about until later. For some reason, we kept coming back around to each other. Even after I ripped his picture to shreds. Yes, I did. That’s how much he pissed me off. But, when I would go to his house in the afternoons, we would lay in bed, kiss, and snuggle, I would give him a whole body massage and he would say, “Tell me a story,” and almost every time, that story would start, “Once upon a time, there was a big, grouchy bear named AZ.”

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume II

2006-06-23T00:19:00.000-04:00

I was totally crazy about him from the moment I met him. I was also very young and inexperienced. He had already graduated from college and been engaged, which ended badly. He was still in mourning from his father’s sudden death. (This took some time to get out of him) I was also deep in my party phase. Most of that first year was spent going to college, working, getting toasty on the weekends, dancing to live bands in the clubs, or dancing at the bar that AZ worked at. He worked on the second floor overlooking the dance floor and often I felt his eyes on me and I would look up and he would smile and wave. If I wasn’t there, then I would leave wherever I was, drive to his apartment, and sleep in my car until he came home. All he had to do was walk up and lift the handle on my door, which made the keys “sing” in the ignition, and I would get out and follow him inside. Oddly enough, he always came home, and he never had a woman with him. He never told me to get lost. That’s not to say though that we didn’t spat. Oh Lord, did we fight! He was, and still can be, one sarcastic asshole. If he vented on me, I wouldn’t see him for a week or more. Often I would take my breaks between classes and call him from the payphone at the school, sometimes he called me there (way before cell phones ya’ll!), and then sometimes I would show up on his doorstep, unannounced, and he would open the door, bleary eyed and disheveled, and I would wince, apologize, and then he would drag me inside, undress me, and throw me in the bed. (Disclaimer: No, no sex, just everything but) I skipped many a class with AZ. Time has made some things fuzzy and the time frames involved may be a little off but not enough that I feel as though I must consult AZ, yet. Sometime in early Summer, I asked him why we didn’t progress our friendship/relationship to include sex, since we did everything but. His response at the time was, “I don’t love you and I don’t know if I will.” That stung a bit, more than a bit. Of course, it might have helped if he were a little more forthcoming about how his relationship with his fiance ended and how soon before I came to know him that it had ended. Water under the bridge now. Regardless, I loved him anyway and I remember how he groaned in frustration with me when I informed him that him not loving me didn’t stop me from loving him in the least. One thing is, I was WILD AS A BUCK. I lied to my parents about who I was with and where I was going. I especially lied about weekends. Often, okay, all the time, I would say I was staying with Kelli or Beki, and I would actually stay with AZ. I was experimenting (lightly) with drugs, drinking too much at times, and dressing like a total 80's band whore. I loved to dance and often spent more time on the dance floor than at a table. This was around the time AZ had been fired from his radio gig and, for a while, was going under in the Gulf of Depression. I’d swing by between classes or call and check on him. In no time, he had landed a gig at a competing radio station and took great glee in peeling the former radio station’s bumper stickers from my car. He declared all out war, even to the extent, he was showing up earlier at concert ticket sleep-overs and generally making the other radio station look bad. I can still see his smug grin. Amen.

The Fourteen Years War - 1992 - Volume I

2006-06-22T23:15:00.000-04:00

I know writing this is not going to be easy. It may not even be cathartic. However, I have wanted to write this history down for a long time. No time like the present. Chronologically... In January of 1992, I noticed a good looking redhead hanging out at the Art Building at my college. We started talking and then dating. Valentine’s Day was on a Friday that year. I remember because that good looking redhead broke up with me the day before V-Day. On the following Monday, I’m assuming, since it would have been the first time I saw my friends Kelli and Beki at school, Kelli told us she had met a local DJ, AZ. We were in awe. THE AZ. Wow. She said she was kind of interested in him and would we like to meet him, since she now knew where he lived. The three of us piled into my father’s truck, as my car was in the shop, and she directed me across the river to a half-house apartment in the center of the small town that I now live. AZ met us at the door, disheveled and bleary eyed, in his underwear. *Laugh* He excused himself, leaving we three neophytes on his doorstep while he put on his blue and green bathrobe. I won’t ever forget that bathrobe. After donning his bathrobe, he invited us in. Me, being in the throes of heartache, immediately zeroed in on his massive CD collection and found a song which had just the right beat and lyrics to soothe my aching heart. The song was “Gimme Love,” the B side of the single “I’ve Got A Lot to Learn About Love” by The Storm, a Journey-esque band with a couple of former members of Journey in it. This was the time of Shotgun Messiah’s Heartbreak Boulevard, Skid Row’s second CD Slave to the Grind, Metallica’s Enter Sandman, Guns N Roses was singing about November Rain and we had started hearing new bands like Alice in Chains, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana. While AZ and Kelli sat together on the floor, Beki sat properly on the couch, I jammed out, dancing in his living room floor. It was very hard for me not to look at him. Long dark curly hair, and those eyes, those dark, deep set eyes, like pieces of onyx, and the look of a very hungry leopard. His look alone made electricity surge through my body. I was 21 years old. I didn’t know much, didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but I knew when a man was interested and he did little to hide it. After we got back in the truck, Kelli and Beki both remarked, “God, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you!” Kelli wasn’t upset. She figured he wasn’t much her type anyway and urged me to “go for it.” I said, “But he kissed you.” She said, “Yeah, but he was watching you, THE WHOLE TIME!” (These conversations are over 14 years old and I’ll remember them the best I can, but, yeah, this is pretty much what was said.) Regardless, I was still hurt over Red and our break-up and seeing Red everyday did nothing to assist me in moving along, but, I did hear AZ on the radio everyday, and that did assist in moving things along. One day in early March, I gave Red a ride to the tennis courts and I was sure it was over and my feelings along with it. That day, I left the tennis courts, drove across the river, and started searching for that little half-house apartment. It took me a while but I did and AZ was out in front detailing his car. My stomach was full of butterflies as I approached him. He smiled at me, remembered me, and we chatted while he detailed. After a while we went in the house, sat in the floor, listened to music, he played air drums, I sang, and we head-banged. And we kissed. . . . Next “14YW - 1992 - Vol. II”

A Tale of Two Men

2006-06-22T07:37:00.000-04:00

Last night I was thinking about how much I write about Jeff and AZ. AZ and Jeff. Back-stories have been alluded to, old hurts, years of memories. I was just wondering if it would be worth it, at least for myself, to start at the very beginning and work my way through the last 14 and a half years (AZ) and 12 and a half years (Jeff). I have thought of doing it before. Could be a nice summer project. The good news is that Jeff gave me back a lot the letters and things I gave him during our relationship and I kept that for Nate so that when he is older, he will have something tangible from when Mom and Dad were together. I believe AZ has squirreled away every letter, card, photograph, note, and bar napkin I’ve ever given him. About five years ago, hell, maybe longer, I said it was a shame I hadn’t kept copies of the photos I gave him and as I now keep copies of letters I send him in electronic form, all the handwritten letters were lost forever. He said, “What makes you think I threw them away?” He’s mysterious that way. Wrestling those from his control is probably not possible. However, I do have my memories and I have a journal around here somewhere with some documentation of what happened when. Plus, if I get stuck, it’s not like I don’t have both men at my disposal to root through their brains. I think I should do it now before anymore time passes and the memories fade even more. So, who do I start with?

Rumination

2006-06-20T22:40:00.000-04:00

Jeff is preparing for a hearing tomorrow dealing with issues relating to his disability. This precipitated him dragging out every legal document he has ever been given, including every letter and Order from my child custody suit. Interspersed among those documents were copies of his certifications from the police department, most of which I was aware of, but there was also a copy of a “Recommendation for Letter of Commendation” from Jeff’s former shift commander. It was dated in early 2000. Jeff said, “You know, it may not mean much to me anymore, but maybe my kids would like to see things like this.” The letter detailed how a call had gone out for a B&E in progress. Jeff had been the first on the scene, parking close enough to box the guy in, parking far enough away that the guy didn’t know he was there. Jeff got him on the ground and confiscated what appeared to be a semi-automatic weapon. The two other officers mentioned in the letter I know were close to be being rookies themselves and under Jeff’s direction canvassed the neighborhood, took statements from other individuals, and were able to ascertain the individual’s real identity as the crook has supplied false information. Come to find out he was wanted for a violent car-jacking and the supposed semi-automatic, which turned out to be a pellet gun, had been used in the commission of that crime. His shift commander specifically praised Jeff’s leadership, etc. I got a lump in my throat when I read it. I remembered the Jeff that I fell in love with and the fact that he no longer exists. I was still so very proud of him. I handed the letter back and I saw that he began reading it too. I looked away to the television and when I looked back, I could see the emotion on his face, the redness around his eyes, the look when someone is trying very hard not to become emotional. He finally put it down and said, “I have to stop reading.” I said, “I think your children would very much like to read that someday.” He nodded. There are more than a few reasons why Jeff is no longer a police officer. One is it just drove him crazy. Another is his former chief wanted the men on the department to turn a blind eye to his own son’s drug deals. When Jeff refused, the chief began targeting Jeff and there were a few guys on the department who went along with the chief and I know of one specifically who tried to cost Jeff his entire job. This officer is so obese that I could out run him in a pair of Brighton’s stripper shoes. Plus, I rode with him as a student rider and he was lazy and stupid, more lazy than anything. For a while, Jeff was the pariah of the department and although we weren’t together anymore, I knew what was going on and I worried for his safety. I literally worried that there were some out there who wouldn’t have his back. Eventually, three other higher ranking officers filed a grievance against the chief for his requests and harassment of the officers regarding his son’s drug dealing. The day the grievance was filed, the chief left the City Council meeting, went home and on his doorstep had a massive coronary. Those three officers were asked not to attend his wake or funeral. And that is life in small town U.S.A.

Which Way Did I Go?

2006-06-17T23:56:00.000-04:00

Life can be confusing. This, I know. This whole thing about the shop and AZ and his reaction and the employees’ reactions. *Shakes head* See, the guys want me there, at least the two of them that realize that AZ seriously needs a break in his workload. However, I’ve warned them absolutely not are they to mention, which the dumbasses already have, that I’m cute, hot, sexy, built, or any other word to describe the fact that I’m woman in any way. Remember that whole spiel with Lex, AZ, and the jealousy thing? Yeah, jealousy can be a problem. The other problem could be that the guys don’t know me. They see a cute woman who might make the boss’s life easier but I don’t think they’re quite grasping the concept that if they dick around, it’s me who is going to be busting their balls. I wouldn’t be there to be “cute” I would be there to order supplies, work on advertising, sales, marketing, help with the printing, doing the books, and making sure they are doing their jobs. Them doing their jobs is one of the reasons AZ has to be there as frequently as he is. Two of the guys fight like bitches. One of the guys has all of these great ideas but... they cost time and money when they don’t work out. This is pissing AZ off. Yakking on the phone for an hour, pisses AZ off. Bringing your personal life into the workplace to the point it affects your job, pisses AZ off. So, as you can see, they’re spending a lot of their time pissing AZ off. I’m all for having a relaxed atmosphere where employees can meet their full potential. There is a line, however, between relaxed and working hard and dicking around. There are a multitude of things I would rather be doing than working so when I work, especially in a situation where there are deadlines, I expect people to pull their weight. When I look at the board, it’s all there in color what needs to be done and what the deadline is and what may be coming up in the future, orders that are on hold, orders that need artwork, screens need to be cleaned, some need to reclaimed, ink needs to be scraped, tools cleaned and put in order, screens burned and cured so they can be used the next day, supplies, especially shirts, need ordered. AZ hasn’t made up his mind yet about having me there. He calls me practically every evening that he has to leave me at the shop with the guys because he has other responsibilities and obligations to fulfill. This morning it was 1:15. We talked for an hour, even though we were both exhausted. He fell asleep on the phone with me. Luckily, he’s a light sleeper so I didn’t have to yell too loud to get him to wake up so he could turn his phone off. He had been awake 22 hours. I have to say though, I really enjoy our conversations. They are eclectic to say the least. One moment we’re discussing the shop, the next it’s other obligations we have, bits and pieces of our day, anecdotes (he heard why karma is a big fat bitch with a mustache last night), and then the sound of clothes being shucked off, and both of us lying in our respective beds. One night, whilst chilling out, I said, “We’re undressed, lying in bed, now we can sleep together.” And yet again tonight, another 45 minute conversation. And yet again, he fell asleep on me. I was at the shop from 12:40 until 7 and he stopped by to pick up a personal order he had done for a bridal couple. Let me tell ya folks, you see those pretty, pretty t-shirts with all the nice colors on them, you know, 5-7 different colors on one t-shirt, yeah, let me tell you how hard those bitches are to set up. Pain. In. The. Ass. Three and a half hours with two people working on lining it all up so you have a coherent design. Please appreciate it the next time you see one. If you own one, go hug it. You know, before AZ asked me why we keep coming full circle I had finally made a peace with it. I didn’t have to know, I didn’t have to understand, I didn’t have to have an explanation. For the most part, I still don’t. I try to live in the moment with him. Every moment may not be made in Heaven, frankly, a lot of people would think it’s closer to hell on Earth (just dial “hell” and I’ll answer - thank you “Elizabethtown.”). It’s not hell. But, damn, yes, it can be confusing, and damn, yes, sometimes I wonder. I wonder why he has a girlfriend and he’s falling asleep with me. Why am I the last person he thinks about at night? Why is my voice the last he hears before he falls asleep? Life can be confusing. This, I know.

Dear Diary

2006-06-16T07:17:00.000-04:00

I was stood up on my date and then I went to the see that horrible movie, “The Break Up.” Honestly, what was the point of that movie other than to depress me? I know that part of my problem is it is very difficult to let people into my life and to trust people. AZ said I need to work on that. Like he is one to talk. Pot. Kettle. Black. This leads me to wonder though if I have pushed him away some how over the years. It would help if he would tell me. Vulnerability is not my strong point anymore, nor his. Perhaps we are destined to orbit one another, stuck in each other’s gravitational fields on elliptical orbits which bring us a breath apart and then sling us miles away from one another. Perhaps one day we’ll crash into one another and explode in large ball of dust and flame. It’s the best I can hope for now.

Things Are Looking Up

2006-06-14T07:58:00.000-04:00

Okay, I’m feeling much better, now just back to being extremely busy. Saw AZ yesterday and talked to him three times. He’s graciously allowed me to apprentice, sort of, as a screen printer at his shop. In other words, I walked in, told him I wanted to learn, and I was also going to organize his office. I like screen printing much better than document review. AZ and I have talked about me doing some secretarial work, sales work, and learning the screen printing trade in the past and now I’m just lining work up for when this job ends. I also am applying for a part-time creative writing/research assistant position. I still have my beads and I have a demonstration set for August. I was even able to squeeze in a date yesterday. He’s very nice. We have another date this evening. Not sure if there is any spark yet, but we’ll see. My sinuses are still draining although the TMJ has abated for the time being, yet, I am still unable to turn my mind off and go to sleep at night. I think I miss a certain little boy. I think I miss that little boy a whole lot. AZ left the shop yesterday and I had a chance to talk to the guys who work there, who have known AZ as long or almost as long as I have and they were both very encouraged that I was there and were hoping that I was going to step in and relieve some of AZ’s workload. Good guys, both from where I grew up. One is actually the step-brother of a girl I ran around with in high school. Yet, as AZ has pointed out, they need a babysitter and that’s why he’s stuck there a lot. Heh. Enter Nanner. As one of the guys said yesterday, “Ya know, you could help answer phones, do sales, help with the printing, do the books, pay some bills, order supplies, and if we’re not really busy, you could do your beading at one of the tables. We could really use the help.” Cross your fingers that Nanner will have a more interesting job by the end of summer. Not to mention, I would get to work with one of my absolute favorite people in the world. I think the Lord and Lady are smiling on me.

When The Shit Monster Says, “BWAHAAHAHAHAHHAHA”

2006-06-12T19:10:00.000-04:00

Nate is gone for the week to Washington, D.C., leaving me free to engage in debauchery without guilt. I started my period. My TMJ is acting up. I haven’t had much sleep. My house is still a disaster. I called AZ, and he’s not answering his cell. I have no beer.

"Let me not mourn for the men who have died fighting, but rather let me be glad that such heroes have lived."

2006-06-08T22:02:00.000-04:00

After Uncle Ted returned home, there is another sizable gap in the remembrances of those around him. My father was only 3 1/2 years old when Ted returned, my grandfather and grandmother have both passed away. Only one person I know still alive would have any idea what the next 40 years held for Ted and I have not yet had the opportunity to speak with him. There was a rumor that Ted married and fathered a child before his wife grew tired of his ways and moved, taking the child with her and never returning. While Ted may have had a liking for alcohol before the war, he certainly took a great liking to it afterwards. Luckily, in our small rural town, the County Sheriff was one of his best friends and when Uncle Ted got too full in his cups, the Sheriff would “arrest” him, dry him out, and then make him cook at the jail. Also, if the jail got without a cook, the Sheriff would call Ted and have him come over and cook until another cook could be hired or located. A mystery of sorts surrounds his death. My father was present at the time and said that Ted was drunk, fell, and hit his head, killing him instantly. Ted’s death certificate said he “dropped dead, striking his head on a table as he fell.” As my grandfather died suddenly of a massive coronary, I’m inclined to believe the coroner, although medical technology just wasn’t the same then as it is now. Perhaps the worst part of this whole scenario, besides the fact my uncle died before I ever had an opportunity to know him or listen to his stories, was what happened after his death. My grandmother, a harridan on a good day, threw away everything she could lay her hands on that belonged to Ted, including all of his service medals. I’m surprised his discharge paper survived, maybe she didn’t know where it was or my grandfather squirreled it away for safe keeping. Regardless, until my father and I can get his record from the government and order his service medals again, hopefully putting together a nice memorial, this is the little I have to remember him by. Thank you, Jack for reminding me of the real meaning of June 6th. The title of this post and the previous post are quotes from General Patton.

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no one - for I am the meanest motherfucker in the valley."

2006-06-07T22:09:00.000-04:00

My great-uncle Ted was a World War II veteran. He died when I was just a baby. Uncle Ted was a true hero, although an unsung hero of my entire family. I have attempted as best I can to piece together his war record. His discharge papers are not very accurate from the information I have received which is why it has been difficult to piece together his trek across Europe. I do know he was a member of the 738th Medium Tank Battalion (Special)(Company B) which trained at Camp Bouse in Arizona. The existence of Camp Bouse and the “special” tanks they had there was second in secrecy only to the atomic bomb. The special tanks had a light near the tank turrent which flashed much like a strobe light in the darkness, making it nigh impossible to shoot as the opposing force could never get a clear bearing on its position. Under threat of death and Leavenworth, the military personnel were not allowed to speak of it. Unfortunately, even after intense training, the tank was never used for its intended purpose and the lights only came on when barging into the Rhineland area of Germany. While the discharge papers state that Uncle Ted entered the European Theater of Operations (ETO) on the 2nd day of June, 1943, that would be impossible as he was training in Bouse, Arizona. Had he entered ETO in June of 1943, then he couldn’t have been wounded in Rhineland in February of 1943, now could he? Sources state that the Infantry divisions he was most likely attached to were in Rhineland in February of 1945, not 1943. Two of the special tank battalions from Bouse were supposed to be deployed on D-Day, however, they were not. More confusions sets in here. My father’s recollections of Uncle Ted’s war stories are very similar to his discharge papers which list the major campaigns he was involved in as Normandy - Northern France - Rhineland - Ardennes - Central Europe. However, an extremely abbreviated history of his tank battalion says they were never at Normandy, instead they debarked at Le Havre, France (well north of Normandy) and then entered Aachen, Germany, with Company A attaching to the 3rd Armored Division and then attaching to diverse units after that. It does not mention Company B. Perhaps Company B had entered at Normandy, I don’t know. I have found that keeping up with one platoon from one company from one tank battalion in World War II is next to impossible, especially not knowing what platoon Uncle Ted was in. Battalions, especially those in armored units attached and detached within weeks, days, or even hours. Sometimes the companies from the battalions split and sometimes the platoons from the companies from the battalions split. Uncle Ted was a tank gunner and because they weren’t using the tanks for what they were intended, the tanks became mine exploders, breaching and clearing mine fields while also providing combat support. Uncle Ted received two Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star. His unit received the Distinguished Unit Citation (or Presidential Citation - which is something like the Medal of Honor for a unit). He also received the European African Middle Eastern Service Ribbon. He returned home in the Fall of 1945 . . .

Mawhi-Mawhi and White Dressin'

2006-06-06T18:52:00.000-04:00

People ask what my new job is like. It’s not exactly new anymore since I started on the Ides of March. In a nutshell, it’s The Breakfast Club revisited, there are just four of us instead of five and Principal Vernon has been replaced by an attorney. (Let us all observe a moment of silence for the recently departed Principal Vernon - Paul Gleason.) Our work is laborious and boring. Especially now that our team and the main headquarters team are slogging through boxes and boxes of paperwork doing privilege review. This entails sitting in a practically windowless room (the windows are at the very top of the room and only afford a glimpse of the blue clear sky if you stand due East at a 45 degree angle with your head tilted 90 degrees to the West with your back at a 15 degree angle with a half twist) and flipping pages looking for particular names and other sundries until your eyes cross and your neck feels as though there is whole box of documents sitting on it. In order to pass the time more quickly, Bender, Claire, Brian, and myself (Allison), share tales of our travels and travails, sing ass songs (My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps), and attempt to find covert sexual innuendos in our paperwork (like nipples). Claire shared with us her college days job as a waitress at a local seafood restaurant where a customer came in and ordered mawhi-mawhi. She said, “We don’t have any mawhi-mawhi, but we do have some mahi-mahi.” I didn’t say she was nice about it. Another customer told her he wanted white dressin’ on his salad. She inquired, “Would that be the white dressin’ with chunks or without chunks cuz we have two white dressin’s.” He said, “I don’t want no chunks.” She said, “We call that Ranch.” Between that and Bender’s impersonation of the Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs - It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again - and Brian’s impersonation of Hank Hill from King of the Hill - That boy ain’t right - and the ass-biting, snarky zingers that fly from the four corners regularly, I guess it’s worth the 945,000 documents about nipples we have to review.

Sleeplessness

2006-06-04T02:43:00.000-04:00

The past week I didn’t have much sleep. After attending the family reunion and sucking down bucketloads of pollen which aggravated my sinuses which then began dripping into my throat which then caused my tonsils and uvula to swell and get all kinds of gross gunk on them, I was unable to sleep well. One morning in particular, I had horrible lucid dreaming. If I’m having sex or fooling around, I don’t much mind lucid dreaming, but I wasn’t, I was fixing cars or watching cars be fixed, over and over and over. I only lucid dream when I drink Jim Beam or if I’m in some type of gnawing pain which isn’t painful enough to actually wake me, but painful enough that I’m half awake and attempting to dream at the same time. Then as I was beginning to feel half-human, I met this guy who is really interesting and smart and was staying up way too late chatting (among other things which would give my mother a heart attack) and then since Nate was at Jeff’s and this interesting guy is leaving for Afghanistan very soon, we decided we should meet and off I go. No, he’s not military, he’s an international contractor (having spent time at both the North and South Poles and several other foreign countries, I figure he can say that with all honesty). Anyway, it was a decent drive to where he was and then it was up early in the morning and I drove home and with all good intentions but that bed just looked too inviting. Upon waking at some point I realized I hadn’t eaten and watching simulations of how catastrophic an eruption of Mt. Rainier could be was not filling my gut, so I went to Applebee’s and had a nice quiet dinner, all by myself, with booze and dessert. I still had good intentions but watched an episode of “Forensic Files” when I heard it start thundering so I plodded outside to grab the comforter off the clothes line and of course the air cooled down and the wind picked up and the comforter was fresh. Not to mention, it was thundering, which we have all now determined is some type of sleeping draught for me, and I didn’t wake from my slumber until after 10. I was supposed to be stopping by T-Bird’s and she had called, although my phone was on the floor buried under some clothes, I guess I heard it and it woke me. So, now it’s 2:38 and I should be wide awake but it is one again, nappy time. Sweet dreams.

I Want You. . . To Be My Wife!

2006-06-02T00:09:00.000-04:00

Jeff called this evening in all of his drug hazed glory and asked me to marry him, more than once. Yeah, I’ll get right on that. After I firmly refused his most appealing offer, he asked what I wanted, meaning “tell me how I can change to win your love, sweet NannerPeachyOne.” It’s kind of useless to tell someone in a drug haze that one shouldn’t have to change but be loved for who they are and even if by some strange stretch of the imagination, a serious head injury, nuclear holocaust, and Armageddon, it ain’t happnin’. I don’t like to say “never” but in this case I’ll capitulate and say nusquam ad infinitas. For you non-Latin speaking individuals, that means: nowhere, in no place, nothing, for nothing, never for eternity and evermore. If he could understand, I’m sure he’d ask, “Do you mean, ‘ever, ever’?” Let’s recall the last time I blogged about Jeff. I believe my parting words were, “If he were to lay prostrate at my feet on fire I wouldn’t piss on him.” Those are strong words, even for a Peach. So, I quoted one movie in the title and about half quoted another movie with the “ever, ever” line. Do you know which two movies? Isn’t life in Peachtown just a hoot!

Diagrams, Diagrams, Diagrams....

2006-05-31T00:13:00.000-04:00

How to figure out who in the hell people are in your family. Let’s start with my little fucked up family, shall we? Where shall I start? We’ll start here at Ali B. and George B. Ali B. and George B. were brothers who married sisters - Lucinda and Esther. I’ll put their children etc. directly below them so you can see the line of descent. Ali B. .............................................. George B. Rebecca........................................... Julie Now, notice here that Rebecca and Julie are double first cousins. They are the daughters of brothers who married sisters. Archie..............................................John Wilson Drawn a line between Archie and Julie and Rebecca and JohnWilson. Put “double first cousin, once removed” on it. On the line between Archie and John Wilson put “double second cousins.” My Mo................................................ Mattie Draw a line between Archie and Mattie, put “Husband and wife” and “double second cousins, once removed” on it. Draw a line between John Wilson and My Mo and put “double second cousins, once removed” and “Grandfather/Granddaughter” on it. On the line between My Mo and Mattie put “Daughter/Mother” and “double third cousins” Nanner.................................................. My Mo Draw a line between Nanner and Mattie , put “Granddaughter/Grandmother” and “double third cousin, once removed”. Draw a line from My Mo to My Mo and put “Self” and “double third cousin, once removed.” The line between Nanner and My Mo will have “double fourth cousins” and “daughter/mother” on it. Nate..................................................... Nanner Draw a line between Nate and My Mo, put “Grandson/Grandmother” and “double fourth cousins, once removed. The line between Nanner and Nanner will read “Self” and “double fourth cousin, once removed.” The line between Nanner and Nate will read “Son/Mother” and fifth cousins. Even more confusing is the fact that not only were Rebecca and Julie double first cousins (and my great-grandmother and great-great grandmother, respectively), but they also married brothers, Jacob C. and George C. Whooo boy! Jacob C..............................................................George C. Brothers (1st cousins)Archie................................................................John Wilson This switches Archie and John Wilson from Second Cousins to First in this line. (2nd cousins) My Mo.............................................................Mattie It also means that now Mattie and Archie are not just husband and wife, but also first cousins, once removed and My Mo and my Mama Mattie are now not just mother and daughter but also second cousins, making my Papa Archie and my great-grandfather John Wilson, her first cousins, once removed as well. (3rd cousins) Nanner............................................................My Mo Now making Nanner not just her mother’s daughter but also her third cousin and her second cousin, once removed, as well as the second cousin, once removed of her own grandmother. (4th cousins) Nate....................................................................Nanner And making Nate not just my son, but also my third cousin, once removed and my fourth cousin as well as being the third cousin, once removed of his own grandmother. Here’s another way to look at it. Nanner.................................................Kevin (1st cousins) Nate......................................................Lee (1st cousin, once removed to Nanner, 2nd cousin to Nate Nate’s child...........................................Hunter (1st cousin, twice removed from Nanner, 2nd cousin, once removed to Nate, 3rd cousin to Nate’s child.) Plus, you have to figure in that Kevin’s mother and my mother were sisters and therefore also cousins of each other, making Kevin and I not just 1st cousins but also 3rd cousins, once removed and double 4th cousins, once removed, which is the exact same relation I am to myself. Does that clear things up?

Consanguinity

2006-05-29T22:53:00.001-04:00

Not to be confused with serosanguinous, although both are about blood. Yes, it was once again time for the fam damily reunion. No, I didn’t get a date but I did get a number. Ba dum crash! One of my cousins (second cousin - once removed, to be exact) was curious about our familial connections. She also wanted to know why she was once removed from me. “Because you stink.” Har, har, har. *Ahem* Her mother, the great-niece of my grandmother, and I, are second cousins. And what constitutes a second cousin? I just told you. Pay attention. So, any children of the great niece of my grandmother, or the prodigy of first cousins, are second cousins, and any of their children are then my second cousins - once removed. However, the daughter of the great niece of my grandmother (or great grandniece) then becomes Nate’s third cousin and any of their prodigy will then be fourth cousins, but third cousins, once removed from Nate. However, as not to confuse the poor child, since she was so curious, she is also my fourth cousin, once removed and my double fifth cousin, once removed. I am my own third cousin, once removed ( meaning my Mom is my third cousin and my double fourth cousin) which also means that I am also my double fourth cousin, once removed. Legally, yes, I can marry myself. We’re also distantly related through other branches. Ha, and you thought I didn’t really have any branches on my family tree, didn’t you? Oh, wait...

Wicked Wind

2006-05-26T20:50:00.000-04:00

So, I settled in for a right good storm. Lights are out, windows open in the bedroom, fan running, listening. Suddenly, it’s as though the fan has been turned up on “Catastrophic” as a gust of wind from nowhere buffets my house, rustling leaves and limbs, making dogs bark. I listen. . . for the sound of tree limbs cracking from next door, as they often do, but they don’t. I listen. . . to the Venetian blinds alternating banging and rattling as they are lifted away and then sucked against the panes as the wind breathes inside my house. I listen. . . for thunder . . . I watch . . . for lightening. . . *tick* *tick* *bang* *rattle* *rustle* *breath in* *breath out* *tock* I fall asleep, certain in my mind that the approaching rain and lightening and thunder will wake me. Certain that droplets of water from the window above my head will wake me. Nothing wakes me but the radio playing at 6:00 a.m. I ask the lady at the convenience store about the storm. She said, “Freaky wind, sounded like a tornado.” “No lightening? No thunder?” “Nope, just a wicked wind.” It stormed today. I wouldn’t describe it as foreplay, more like premature ejaculation. It got off way too soon. Story of my life. The yo-yo is down today. Always full of big dreams, hopes, and wishes, full of promise and then... I get out of bed. Blogging for two years tomorrow. Happy Blogiversary to me.

Yo-Yo

2006-05-25T18:53:00.000-04:00

Brought to you by the letter, “F.” Life is like a yo-yo, sometimes you’re up and sometimes you’re down, the trick is to keep moving. Navy boy, well, I got the definite, “Stay away from me freak” vibe. You win some, you lose some. It’s suddenly hot and massive thunderstorms are working their way here from the Ohio Valley. Did I tell ya’ll about the last thunderstorm? Guess not since you all have that, “what the fuck is she talking about” look on your faces. Forecasts all day foretelling the foreboding influx of high winds, tornadoes, hail, and flash flooding. I witnessed the fantastic formation of clouds flying across the night sky with flashes of lightning within their freakish flummoxing fabrications, as though I were watching a film in fast forward. The first raindrops hit my face forcing me to seek shelter under my front porch. Still following the forward path of the storm, almost certain it would forsake my feelings and fizzle. It knew my feelings lay fallow. It knew I needed cleansed and yet it faltered, following a winding course, overflowing on others as it left me parched and fevered. I moved inside and fastened my eyes on the horizon from my window, flattened by the Goddess’s refusal to allow me to drink from her fountain as the clouds floated away. “That was just foreplay,” I said. An eye-frying flash of lightening streaked down and thunder fell violently on my head and shoulders as the lights flickered out, leaving me frozen, freaked, and still fallow. Don’t fuck with the Goddess.

What Does Elastic Do?

2006-05-22T22:12:00.000-04:00

Well, it’s elastic, what do you think it does? It bounces back! After extolling my woes to you all and my co-workers today, I feel much better. Especially since my new co-worker is a an ex-Navy man, still walks like a Navy man, and still has that tight Navy ass. Too bad he’s still in love with his ex-wife. Onward and upward. Still have been a little weepy, but nothing like yesterday. AZ saw the picture I posted yesterday and called me a lush. Whaaaa? I resemble that remark! Oh, wait... Heh. He just wishes he could have been there. Can you imagine what I could have done to him in that mood? Not my fault he wasn’t there. Been looking at job listings again. This time for in house paralegal gigs with the big dogs. Woof! The only openings in TX oil companies is Shell. I’ll sell my soul. Not a problem. Plus they have offices in Germany, well, most oil companies do, but maybe my foreign language skills will come in handy in some way eventually. It wouldn’t hurt to apply. Regardless, life has GOT to change around this berg.

Elastigirl Hits Rock Bottom

2006-05-21T23:42:00.000-04:00

I think of myself as highly resilient but today I have not been very resilient. I’ve been weepy. Vin (da Neighbor) and I had made plans to have a beer Saturday night. He flaked out on me. One of our city workers had stopped by next door and asked me out for coffee. He seemed a little, well, a little "different." But different is good sometimes. Very nice guy. By the middle of coffee and danish (which I had to pay for since he had gone out the night before and tied a big one on and couldn’t quite comprehend why he didn’t have $5.15 left out of $50.00) I had determined that I’d rather watch paint flake. I tried really hard to be open but since he’s called me four times since yesterday and one of those times caused me to miss my verification call from PayPal, once again delaying my account (this was a whole 15 minutes after our coffee meeting), I’m not much impressed. Nice guy, just not the guy for me. For some reason though, this has bummed me out. Or maybe it’s just the mood I went to bed in after Vin dissed me and I watched two or three episodes of "Body of Evidence" and "American Justice" about murder and mayhem. Perhaps it is also the residual effect of being in TX. Being in TX is good for me. My friends show me what marriage is really supposed to be like. Not perfect, but real people facing everyday life and its challenges and joys together. It’s a good reminder that marriage is not an assignment to purgatory. But then I come home and eventually I’m reminded that I’m still sitting on my porch alone. Also given the fact that AZ, who things were looking up with, suddenly decided things would be "all business" between us since our last porch time, add the hellacious week of dealing with Jeff and Nate, and yeah, I’m feeling a bit lonely and a might weepy. I’ve begun wondering if I’m doing something wrong or something is just wrong with me. AZ did call me out of the blue this evening but he was getting ready to go into a restaurant where it was impossible to hear each other. He also made a comment about the folks he had just met about selling their house or more specifically that you could tell the woman had "let herself go," referencing her long brown/gray hair hanging to her waist, nothing like the perky sprite pictured in their wedding portrait. I said something, referencing the fact that I don’t get all macked out all the time either. And I don’t. I much more comfortable in a pair of jeans, much more comfortable without having to remember not to rub my eyes because it will smear my mascara, much more comfortable not wearing a bra, and frankly, when you go to bed with me, you wake up with me. I look exactly the same. *Sigh* That’s what’s wrong with me. I’m me. And exactly, what is wrong with that? Yeah, maybe I could do something with the hair.

End of Watch

2006-05-18T23:04:00.000-04:00

Kristin reminded me that it is National Law Enforcement Week. It’s funny, but I’ve been thinking of a guy I went to college with. He and I were in several classes together and the honor society. I remember him well. He was a nice looking man, still wore his hair in a semi-mullet at the time. He had an easy smile and always wore a Volunteer Fire Department shirt. He was the Secretary/Treasurer when I was Vice-President of our honor society chapter. Level-headed and dedicated good ole boy. That was Bill Giacomo. He worked hard in college. He wasn’t outgoing but he wasn’t shy either, more of a watcher. He called it like he saw it. I liked that about him. He’s been on my mind so much lately. I can still see his face, I can still see his smile. September 11th in successive years... 1999, I was in Detroit with T-Bird as she gave birth - 2001, watching in horror as America was attacked, but 2000, that was the year we lost Bill. He was processing a DUI and turned to answer the phone as he was alone in the station. The suspect pulled a .22 caliber handgun from his boot, which had obviously been overlooked in the search, and he shot Bill in the head and left him to die. Over a damn DUI. Sixteen agencies joined in the search for this cop killer. They found him and his name fades out of memory to me. But Bill has never faded. Bill will never fade. No one will ever know why Bill didn’t find the gun in that suspect’s boot but the way he pleaded for his life is forever captured on videotape. Over a damn DUI. Image borrowed without permission from "Officer Down Memorial Page." I know, breaking the law to honor a fallen officer. Sorry, Bill.

Who Stole My White Picket Fence World?

2006-05-17T21:56:00.000-04:00

Jeff called this morning wanting to know if I was mad at him for something. Uh, yeah! I’m not going to get into it other than to say he attempted to justify how he treated me by laying, what he sees to be, various sins at my feet. His big one was, "Well, what would you have done? What would you have said? You would have done the same thing." The truth is, I wouldn’t have. I know I wouldn’t have because if I were going to drop his level, I would have done it a long time ago, and I have much more ammunition. I reap no satisfaction nor reward for throwing shit back on people. I feel no superiority by making someone feel inferior. I often hold my tongue because having a battle of the wits with someone who is stupid and blind is inherently unfair. I thought all of this over as I mowed the grass with vengeance (AJ would be so proud!). Who stole my white picket fence world? What great karma scheme have I disrupted to be subjected to this horror of a man? And why, Holy Hera, did I ever fuck him? I can only answer the last one. I was sick. Psychologically ill. My Mom says, "I know you had to have loved him at one time." "It was a very sick love, Mother." However, the sweet smell of cut grass and a few blisters later, I am ready to expound upon why, oh why, I have no white picket fence. Face it, folks. There are things that other people have gone through that make the rest of us stand back and go, "Holy Hera! How did they survive that? How do they go on?" In the big scheme of things, I have it relatively easy. "That which does not kill me, makes me stronger." After all the shit, shite, and shinola, I’m still breathing. I may be breathing fire, but I’m still breathing. The Lord and Lady will not heap more on me than I can handle. My back is aching and knee hurts, but I have not buckled, nor will I. If anything, this forces me to examine the exact reasons for my fear of Jeff and of standing up for myself, although I have to say, it wasn’t that difficult this morning. It’s simple really. He knows my greatest weaknesses. My love for Nate, being my greatest, but he forgets that my love for Nate is also my greatest source of strength. Two of my other weaknesses are my housekeeping skills and my capability to forgive. So, this weekend will be whirlwind cleaning. Once the house is in order, I’ll be on solid ground. I know I take good care of my son. Check. House in order. Check. Forgiveness. Bah hum bug! I’m all for forgiveness and usually I give it freely but sometimes it has to be earned. By the way, did I tell you all about the new neighbor at the end of the block? Four words, ladies. Looks. Like. Vin. Diesel. And asked me over for a beer. Eeep! Who needs white picket when you got chain ~~mail~~ link?

Rewind

2006-05-17T00:23:00.000-04:00

Friday - Jeff calls me three times. First time, wants to know if I called and woke him up and now he’s up and wants to talk. Too bad, I’m the phone with T-Bird. Calls again, wants to know if I’m talking about him to T-Bird. Uh, no, but I will now. Third time, phone rings at 11:28 p.m. I stare at it until it stops ringing. Monday - Jeff calls first thing in the morning. I am not a morning person. Nate is not a morning person. Nate has standardized testing. Jeff says "blah, blah, blah, he shouldn’t be jerked up out of bed, blah, blah." I tell him Nate is awakening, Nate will be fine. He’s rude. I’m rude. We hang up. Calls me again while I’m at work. Wants to know what all Nate needs to finish his assignments. Gets mad when I can’t recall out of the blue every single, solitary detail after burying my head in the oil problem in KY for five hours. Calls me again to ask me if Nate doesn’t do anything after he leaves his house. If I don’t make him do his homework. I can’t get him out of bed so he can turn his homework in. I don’t do this and I don’t do that. I ask him what his fucking problem is. Nate has seven missed assignments, two of which MUST be done at school and are never assigned as homework. So, it is automatically MY fault that this work is missing or not done. I ask him to clarify which assignments are missing. He responds that he is driving down the highway going 50 mph and can’t look. I remind him that I cannot possibly know unless I know exactly what is missing and perhaps he should look that up. I’m livid. I pick T-Bird up from work and yell for the next 30 minutes. I’m so mad I’m shaking. I’m crying. I enter Jeff’s with murder in my heart. Jeff is kicked back and before he can say anything (in front of his girlfriend and Nate) I jerk up the list of missing assignments and Nate’s assignment book. NOT ONE ASSIGNMENT ON THE MISSING LIST WAS LISTED IN NATE’S ASSIGNMENT BOOK. NOT. ONE. NOT. ONE. I turn the look of death upon Jeff who says, "Now, I’ve already gotten on to him about not writing his assignments down and you shouldn’t say anything to him." I twist the death knife and say (with piss, vinegar, and venom): "Oh, I think I have a right to say something to my own son and I damn straight will." In other words, motherfucker, piss the fuck off. Seems strange that the LAST FOUR YEARS, before Jeff decided to be "Father of the Fucking Year," that Nate got to school, Mom went to the meetings, Mom took him to the doctor’s appointments, Nate did his work, he even made honor roll on occasion. Not much has fucking changed, except, Daddio is now in the picture and Nate is barely scraping by. Let’s see if we can find a correlation... do you? Do you see a correlation? Because I see a correlation. And of course, Jeff likes to call in the morning when it’s our worst time of day, you know, to give that "special pep talk" and he likes to call in the evenings, you know, to make sure that Nate is doing his homework because I’m such a lazy fucking bitch that I couldn’t possibly give up MY TIME to make sure that it gets done. So, guess who DIDN’T CALL Monday night? And guess who DIDN’T CALL this morning? *Ding* *Ding* *Ding* Did you say, "Jeff?" Because if you said "Jeff," you would have been right. We all win. He did call this evening to say he found Nate’s reading workbook at his house and he would drop it off at school tomorrow. I said, "Fine." As for Nate, well, Nate has also been tiptoeing around da Mama because Mama told his sorry rear-end that if he thought it was bad when Daddio climbed up inside his ass when he did something wrong, then imagine that times two when Daddio climbed up inside my ass for some alleged wrong doing concerning him (Nate). I reminded Nate that what he does affects other people, whether the individual was right or wrong in doing so, his actions affect other people and I’m not taking anymore shit because he didn’t feel like writing down his Science assignment. As for Jeff, he can stew in my silence. He hates it when I don’t speak to him. He can keep on hating. He still owes me a big fat fucking apology. Right now though, he could lay prostrate at my feet on fire and I wouldn’t piss on him.

Annie

2006-05-15T20:53:00.000-04:00

I have to post some other pics from this weekend since you didn’t get to see my favorite girl’s face. Annie and I have an understanding. I love her and she loves me. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas when she was 17 months old. Before that it had been the Christmas before, if I’m not mistaken. Even so, I inadvertently woke her from her nap, which was a good thing, since she was hungry as a little bear, as witnessed by her attempting to put on her own bib and then banging on the high chair. When we got ready to go up to the pond for fishing, she refused to get on the four-wheeler to ride with daddy. She just hates loud noises. Since my parents had a prior engagement, Aunt Nanner rescued her and we made the long walk (okay, I carried her some) up to the pond. We mooed at the cows and I tried to teach her to say, "Gobble, gobble, gobble." She gave it a good try and had to dress the part in my brother’s camo hat. Eventually, I brought her home and gave her a bath, which I haven’t done for many, many years and forgot how slippery little ones are. I also force fed her some meds but she soon forgave me while I fed her strawberries and macaroni and cheese. She acts as though she’s known me her entire life, and not just small snippets of time. We just have an understanding. I love her and she loves me.

A Play: In Four Acts

2006-05-14T20:47:00.001-04:00

Nate caught a big fish. J2 caught a bigger fish. J1 caught the biggest fish. Then a cow tried to eat the fish. Annie told the cow to piss off! The End.

Carnage By A Thousand Tiny Paper Cuts

2006-05-13T01:20:00.000-04:00

Well, after five years of writing letters to the school, this year, I no longer had the heart for it. Whether it was fatigue, Jeff, Nate, the school, or just life in the way, this year is the one in which I did not constantly write and fax letters to the school... and that’s what I needed to make my case. I know better. I’m a fucking paralegal!! And maybe that’s why we’ve all had it rougher, because I wasn’t on my letter writing campaign as I normally am. We just don’t have enough solid evidence, written evidence, to back it up. So, instead of one great explosion, it shall be a thousand tiny paper cuts. Do not ask. I will not tell. I admit nothing. However, it has come to attention that Nate’s teacher gives seminars, perhaps in your state, on character and values. Maybe she should read one of those books she wrote on fucking character and values. You know what I see? Fake. She’s a fake. Maybe I’ll find out when and where her next speaking engagement is and enlighten everyone there about what she’s REALLY like. I can say though, that Nate has learned from this exposure. We were listening to my Nickelback CD (cuz it’s all Nickelback, all the time, in my car) and he switched it to the song, "If Everyone Cared." It’s another song that reminds me of AZ and porch time but Nate had a different take on it, "I like this song, too. It’s a good character lesson." From underneath the trees, we watch the sky Confusing stars for satellites I never dreamed that you’d be mine But here we are, we’re here tonight Singing Amen, I’m alive Singing Amen, I’m alive If everyone cared and nobody cried If everyone loved and nobody lied If everyone shared and swallowed their pride We’d see the day when nobody died And I’m singing Amen I, I’m alive Amen I, I’m alive And in the air the fireflies Our only light in paradise We’ll show the world they were wrong And teach them all to sing along Singing Amen I’m alive Singing Amen I’m alive If everyone cared and nobody cried If everyone loved and nobody lied If everyone shared and swallowed their pride We’d see the day when nobody died If everyone cared and nobody cried If everyone loved and nobody lied If everyone shared and swallowed their pride We’d see the day when nobody died And as we lie beneath the stars We realize how small we are If they could love like you and me Imagine what the world could be If everyone cared ... Goes to show, people should practice what they preach, and not push those who believe in extracting justice, wreaking havoc, creating chaos, and leaving carnage in their wake, one paper cut at a time. Not to mention, I have evil friends. If only I had Nate's still naive heart that when I asked about the situation with the vile little bitch being suspended, he said, "I just don’t understand. She’s such a nice girl. Why would she do something so mean? She must have dreamt it and then wrote it down. I didn’t mean for her to get suspended (OH, BUT I DID!), I wonder who told on her?" "Your father and I did. What she did was wrong and she deserved it." Oh, to have a heart like Nate. May he grow up to be a better person than either of his parents.

CARNAGE

2006-05-10T22:59:00.000-04:00

As I started this post, I had to clear a space on WordPerfect and found my packing list for Texas. It’s the little things. I often wonder what it would be like to actually live there. Would I ever be at home or would I constantly crash the party at Brighton’s pad? I imagine sitting with my sister at my nephew’s ball games and maybe even Nate is playing, eating clay pot fish with Zelda and Jethro and teaching their girls to bead, clapping at Annie’s recitals, groping (Not So) tinyhands, making a road trip out to Kristin's. It’s where the friends are. Texas has the highest per capita ratio of Nanner friends. That is kinda sad, since I don’t actually live there. This weekend prepared me to return to reality. I found myself much calmer, happier, and infinitely less stressed. Hard to believe, I almost canceled my trip. Yes, I almost did. On Thursday morning, I received a call from Jeff, who was up in arms. After several months of relative quiet and cooperation he decided to go apeshit about my Texas trip. I’ll not get into the whys and what fors of what he said. It doesn’t matter now because when I called him later he apologized for taking his spite out on me. I don’t believe this has ever happened before. Even after I returned, he asked if he had been mean to me and I told him, "UH, YEAH!" There was medication and a lack of sleep involved in this scenario which, frankly, has happened before, but it was enough before this to make me seriously consider canceling. But before the second phone call I had already decided, "Fuck it, I’m going." Once arriving at Jeff’s to drop Nate’s clothes off, he handed me a piece of paper. It had a drawing of Nate’s classroom on it, desks, and little people with names on them, like scenes from a play. It was called, "The Best Day In Fourth Grade." It chronicled the children in Nate’s classroom setting him up to get in big trouble, the tattling, his teacher’s anger, Nate’s flight from the classroom, and the subsequent jubilation of his classmates and teacher to be rid of him. Needless to say, it was probably a good thing that I had to be on a flight at 6:30 the following morning or someone would have gotten an ass-whooping. Some "very bright" little girl decided to write this masterpiece at home, make copies, and distribute them to her classmates, including the brunt of her play, Nate, who brought it home in his book bag. The teacher never.saw.a. thing. Yet, as we pointed out on Monday, she sees every.little.thing.Nate.does. Jeff and I decided that we would think over what was to be done and address the issue together on Monday. Kristin probably got to see the brunt of the anger I had boiling inside of me as she and I discussed this over lunch in Kemah. Nate is by no means, perfect. I know he can be a little shit, after all, he is of my blood. He has complained about how the kids tattle on him, yet we have been assured by the school that everything that he does is witnessed by an adult. This masterpiece threw that into sharp relief as I wondered what they weren’t seeing or what they were selectively seeing. What little faith I had in the school, his teacher, and principal is gone. They had no good answers for our questions and deftly side-stepped our concerns about what was really going on in the classroom. After all, this was just a "portrayal," "fiction," what the fuck ever. I say it’s an accurate portrayal of what Nate has endured this year. His teacher wasn’t at school on Monday but the principal called her. Do you think she called one of us or came out and spoke to Jeff today about the situation? No, she fucking hid in her classroom and probably pouted because one of her "brightest" students was suspended for harassment. Our way of doing this was to contact the Board of Education (hereinafter "BOE") first. Yes, I got the hereinafters going on because we’re filing a formal complaint with the BOE against Nate’s principal and teacher for their treatment of him this year. I’m also consulting an attorney. Nate cannot help that he is ADHD, that he has seizures, that he’s dyslexic. He cannot help that he had to go off of his medication for an entire month. It certainly didn’t stop them from suspending him nor did it stop them from perpetuating a hostile environment or continuing the carnage. I say: THE CARNAGE HAS JUST BEGUN!

Mass Tequila

2006-05-08T22:21:00.000-04:00

Where do you start talking about one of the best weekends of recent memory? Okay, of far reaching memory? Let’s start with my flight. Uneventful, except it was hotter than hell, preparation for Texas I suppose. Found Travis first, who looked at me strange, as though he was trying to determine who I was. Guess I solved that dilemma when I squealed, enveloped him in a Peach Hug, danced around a bit, and started talking a mile a minute and squealing some more. Then I saw Brighton and Bear and I started squealing again. Then we took a nice long trip, scenery wasn’t great, unless you count the four of us, and then we found the car. Took another long and winding trip, also not great scenery, but then we found the cashier to actually get us out of the parking garage at Interfuckedupcontinental. Travis inadvertently put the ticket in the machine which means he had to pay by credit card. A whole fucking dollar. (This is important later, there will be a test.) Then we took another long trip but finally landed back at Casa Brighton and as the Peach is always hungry (and ate her body weight in steak this weekend), decided to wait as Kristin would be there within an hour or so. Twas not to be as Kristin and Hubby had to deal with some damaging hail from the night before and Kristin decided to drive in early Saturday morning. Off to Mom Alone’s we went, with Bear, who is absolutely the best little feller, not to mention he at least attempted to keep Nanner on the straight and narrow. It’s okay Bear, many have failed before you. Had my first margarita, MANGO! Great food and just hanging out. Then it was off to see Brighton’s new digs. Spacious and sunny. Back to Interfuckedupcontinental to pick up Jeanette (after a nice nap!). Travis was determined not to feed his parking ticket to the machine again but immediately drove into the lane marked, "Credit Card Payment Only" which I nicely pointed out to him before the parking Nazis made him pay with his credit card again. This precipitated the "Tank Ou" and "Twelcome" interaction described over at Brighton’s. Then off to eat, AGAIN. I swear I gained 10 lbs. on Friday alone. Another margarita. Was that one peach? Regular? I don’t remember. In between I talked to my sister and Zelda. To bed, late, but what heaven it was, sleeping in Sara’s beautiful bed, under the glorious air conditioning vent (this will be important later, there will be a test). Rolled over, opened one eye, and promptly went back to sleep when a thunderstorm hit. Obviously, even after four hours of sleep, Jeanette was lucid enough to enjoy nature’s fury. And Nanner, yeah, I slept through it. Up and at it for Travis’s pancakes. YUM!!! He makes bacon the best way. Then we hemmed and hawed around talking to my sister, checking on Kristin and decided to carry on to the Boardwalk in Kemah. My sister, brother-in-law, and nephews came up from the ‘burbs and I got to enjoy some of my favorite people in the world in one spot. Jeanette rode a huge cock, and had a rather phallic ride to the top of the somethingaruther. Kristin and Travis came later. Lemme tell ya, there is no one who can get macked out like Kristin. If I thought I could look half as good with twice the effort, I would get macked out more often. There isn’t enough Aquanet on the planet to make my hair look that good. So, then we ate again and I had another margarita. Peach, I think. I know at some point I had a peach margarita. It’s just all a little fuzzy. We said goodbye to my sister and family and Travis who had to get ready for work and we four ladies took off for a drive-by of Galveston and then a race home to get ready for Blogmeet. Four ladies getting macked out in the same house. It was a sight to behold. Brighton helped me get my hair ironed out and loaned me a bit of make up and Kristin contributed lip gloss cuz you know the Nanner doesn’t get macked out very often. Ran into (Not So) Tinyhands first, who had the same deer in the headlights look as Travis did when I started squealing and hugging. The tables were set up and so we waited. I started drinking. I drank a lot of tequila, one shot of 1800 and then Patron all the way. Zelda and Jethro showed up, which pretty much made my night complete although I didn’t get to talk to Zelda much due to our respective places at the table, I did auction off my beaded ring to her. Hee hee!!! Then several margaritas, shots, and another steak later, Nanner started drunk dialing. First was Celti, who I actually called Celti to her husband instead of her real name. I was still somewhat coherent and sober at that time. Okay, maybe not sober, but at least coherent. Then, it was Lois Lane in the hot spot. Then MakeMineMike, who was not available so I left a message and then AZ, who was also not available, but who I promised I would drunk dial. AZ called back first and we chit chatted. He told me to have a marvelous time, which I already was. The Patron kept flowing, or rather, I kept telling them "just one more." So, four shots and four margaritas later, Mikey called back and went on the infamous toilet trip. Nanner is classy, isn’t she? Of course, our conversation started out with me loudly proclaiming a la Brighton on wine, "I AM DRUNK!" and then dissolving in giggles so ferocious I had to give the phone to Brighton herself. Five shots and five margaritas later, Jethro decided that I may need a sobriety test, although I wasn’t going anywhere near the driver’s seat of car. Funny what you can get drunk people to do. Like, a field sobriety test which I solemnly swear I could have almost passed had it not been for that drunken pirouette. Then for some reason everyone wanted to take pictures and say good-bye. Damnit! Zelda and Jethro followed us, us being, (Not So)tinyhands and myself in TH’s Miata convertible. I’m not sure what I did but obviously did not arouse too much suspicion or people just realized, "Damn, she’s drunk!" But, sadly, Z. And J. had to head home because they couldn’t reach Z.’s sister who was sitting with Emma who was sick. Okay, I bawled. *sniff* Then it was on over to the cluttered Boom Boom Room and a short but sweet pole dancing demo by Brighton in those heels. My Gawd! She’s got mad skillz, ya’ll! Back to Brighton’s, drunk dialed AZ one more time, left a message about INFP’s and ESTJ’s or something like that and then I passed out in Brighton’s bed with bras and panties hanging on the ceiling fan. At some point, Travis came home to find me snoring the roof off the house, poor guy, he had to go sleep in Bear’s room. However, I awoke at 9 minutes after 6, and I was hot and I had to pee. Naturally. And I didn’t feel so good. Nanner doesn’t do well when intoximicated and hot. I paced the hallway before noticing the thermostat on the wall. An electronic one, which if I put my nose up to it, my blind eyes could see the little arrow pointing down, which I pushed, quite a few times. (Sorry if ya’ll freezin’ now B.!) Then I hightailed back to Sara’s room to lay under the aforementioned air conditioning vent. Nanner was happy and promptly fell back asleep while everyone else started shivering. At some point, I ended up back in Brighton’s bed with her and Jeanette and then Travis came in because Bear’s room was too bright and we all sat and chatted and dozed. More food. Mad dash to the airport, mad dash to the gate. I’m home. I miss ya’ll.

Oh My Hell!

2006-05-07T22:16:00.000-04:00

Nanner has returned from Texas. I wondered, as I was running from the check-in counter to my gate, why I was running so hard to get back to reality. After all, it made my boobs hurt. Or was that all the laughing I did? Ya’ll, I haven’t been that drunk in a long time with so many great people. I drunk dialed a few bloggers, probably said some things I shouldn’t have, cried when Jethro and Zelda left, took a field sobriety test (thanks to Jethro) that I may have passed had it not been for that pirouette gone awry, which I think Jeanette filmed for your enjoyment. It was an awesome weekend. Staying with Brighton and family was just unbelievably amazing. I feel so much at home with them and it was almost like a college dorm with Jeanette and Kristin also in the house. Poor Travis, he spent most of his time squiring we ladies to and from the airport, working midnights, and coming home to find me passed out in the bed. Wait, that didn’t sound right. I was actually passed out with Brighton, who wasn’t passed out, just sleeping. None of this sounds right. I can’t begin to say TANKS enough for your hospitality. I loved being there. There will be pictures once I get my batteries charged for my camera. Plus, a more in-depth rundown of the weekend.

Updates

2006-05-03T20:45:00.000-04:00

Nate’s doc appt. went well. So far so good. After 3 hours of testing etc. It appears as though not a damn thing is wrong with him, except too much caffeine. I’m happy. I’m also broke, but happy. Better broke and happy than rich and sick. I have been commissioned to make my first piece of jewelry. Actual commission. Thank you Rachael!!! I’m looking forward to gathering everything to finish it up. AZ got food poisoning from a local restaurant. He has been very unhappy and I don’t blame him. I’m leaving for TX, Friday at 6:40 a.m. I will arrive 8:37 a.m. CST. I will have tequila in my veins by 10 a.m. I’m soooooo fucking looking forward to it. Thanks for all the good feedback/karma about my website. Still working on it. Just... must... find time!! The new pieces have been accepted at Tamarack and I’ll be sending those out AFTER blogmeet so that everyone can actually see what I’ve done. There’s much more, but those are the highlights. See you all as soon as I can.

New Website Is Up

2006-05-01T21:26:00.000-04:00

My new beading website is up. Please do not mention this blog or my blog name. Thanks. Thanks to Seven and Celti for all their help. PEACHWORKS!

Here She Is....

2006-04-30T22:56:00.000-04:00

Tsarina

And So It Is - Rated R

2006-04-27T21:29:00.000-04:00

I do have a MySpace account which I had to set up in order to comment on my friend Beanie’s blog and now Sidra and appears a half a dozen other bloggers from blogspot. I did NOT know it was a quasi-dating service. Goofy Guy does not have my home address but having grown up across the tracks from where I live, he has a pretty good IDEA of where I live just not exactly. Fear not, Goofy Guy has not contacted me since he e-mailed me following our horrible lunch date, saying, “You’re very sweet.” No, buddy, I’m not sweet. I may be many things, but “sweet” is not a word I would use to describe myself. Kittens, puppies, and other furry mammal babies are sweet, I am not. Okay, he also called me, which I ignored. His message, “If you’re not too busy, maybe we can ... blah, blah, blah.” Too busy? Too busy would not begin to describe my life right now. On to other matters at hand. Nate has been suspended from school for one day for yelling at his teacher. He is still alive and breathing and at his father’s house. The range of emotions I have experienced today I would not wish on my worst enemy or even Goofy Guy. I’m still in a partial rage. On the bright side, I’ve channeled that rage into cleaning my house. It’s working. I talked to Troy last night. Remember Troy? Former JAG? Hot? Yeah, him. Sorry, ladies, he is off the market. He’s dating an Australian diplomat. I was extremely happy to hear this as he is one of my best good friends and one that I wish a multitude of happiness for. If anyone deserves a hot, blonde Australian diplomat, it’s Troy. I was angry yesterday too, and Troy had been drinking wine (what IS IT with my friends drinking wine this week???) so he was all mellow and laid back, well, he’s that way all the time, so I mellowed out from some of my anger last night, but not totally. Nate was able to spike right up there again today. I’m pissed off at “Tsarina,” the necklace, not the blogger. It’s not turning out the way I want it to. The pressure is building. I’ll post more pics this weekend, hopefully, along with the other pieces I have been working on. I want to send them out by the middle of next week. Yeah, and Nate lost one of the pieces. Fuck. I’m irritated with one of my co-workers. I can’t begin to rage about it. It’s a “Fight and Fuck” day. A day where you pick a fight so you can have hot, violent make-up sex. Did I say “violent?” I meant, “intensely passionate.” Actually, I did mean “violent.” Ass slapping, nipple pinching, hair-pulling, sweating, swearing, wrestling, back against the wall, legs wrapped around the waist, slamming, primal, cataclysmic, orgasmic fucking. For those of you for whom this is normal, may the Lord and Lady bless you in all you do. Well, I’m still pissed, I think I’ll go clean the toilet. Hoo-rah.

I Am Brain Dead

2006-04-27T01:00:00.000-04:00

Pardon if I don’t make sense. I had a date with a guy I disliked before we went on our date (this was like, two weeks ago). Here’s how. We’ve been e-mailing back and forth on MySpace for a few months. Nice guy, seemed like anyway, six kids, three that live with him, Okay, I’m down with it. We had talked of just meeting for lunch and discussed this over a period of months and then it took me three weeks to answer his last e-mail. Just busy. So, we exchange digits and he calls me, we talk, blah, blah, but still, I’m not feelin’ much. The guy is kinda goofy. Well... one night I had talked to everyone and my Mom... AZ, T-Bird, Celti, e-mailed Seven, e-mailed this person, e-mailed that person, beaded, talked to Jeff six times, chased Nate around, you know, my typical evening following eight hours of brain numbing document review. I stood up from my desk and I started weaving because I was so tired. Like tonight. I’m laying in Nate’s bed, talking to T-Bird on my cellphone, when I hear the house phone ring. I get up, look at the ID and see Goofy Guy. Nope, I don’t answer, I let it go to voicemail. I’m too tired. Nate comes in crankin’ about wanting a Diet Dr. Pepper and lays down with me. My cellphone beeps. I look at the Call Waiting ID - Goofy Guy. I reject the call and send it to voicemail. Strike One - DO NOT TRACK ME DOWN VIA MY CELL PHONE UNLESS YOU KNOW ME WELL ENOUGH TO KNOW WHETHER YOU SHOULD. Nate falls asleep, I hang up with T-Bird, listen to the message, “If you get this... blah, blah, call me.” I’m contemplating whether I should get out of bed and take my contacts out, get the clothes in off the line, and close and lock the front door or take my chances with eye fungus, wet clothes, and rapists and murderers when I hear the house phone ring again. It’s past the time anyone should call me. I’ve talked to a lot of people but I get up, go in the computer room and see it is... Goofy Guy. Strike Two - GIVE ME FUCKING TIME TO RETURN YOUR CALL OR ACCEPT THE FACT I’M NOT CALLING YOU BACK TONIGHT. I snatch the phone up, tell him I was laying down with Nate, I’m tired, I don’t feel like talking, good night. Yeah, I’m a bitch. Bite me. The reason he called THREE TIMES IN TWENTY MINUTES was because he was out for a walk (IN MY FUCKING NEIGHBORHOOD - he lives about a mile from me). STRIKE THREE, YOU’RE OUT!! See, peeps, this is my space and I make that very, very clear to just about anyone who knows me. THIS. IS. MY. SPACE. You don’t come into my space unless you receive an invitation (unless you happen to be AZ, in that case, you call and tell me you’re pulling up to my house, but, I’ve known him for 14 years). So, even though, right off the bat, I made it perfectly, crystal ass clear that I do not, will not, and shall not, invite him over for tea on the first date, nor on the second, nor perhaps at anytime, or until such a time that I am comfortable having him in MY. SPACE. he just up and decides he will try to circumvent that by “strolling by.” *Yeah!* That, my children, is called a “boundary.” It is an important boundary to me because I am extremely motherfucking anal about my fucking space in this world. Now, you all know, just as he did when he thought he would “take a walk in my neighborhood” and “thought” he would stop by to see me, just because he might not have anything better to do. Nuh uh. So, I wake up and think I’m being harsh and I should at least give an hour lunch date a try and try to get along with other people. It was a nightmare and just solidified what I already knew. Goofy Guy and I were totally NOT COMPATIBLE. The lunch date sucked for a MULTITUDE of reasons. I told AZ later, “I thought I was lonely, but I take it back. Dear Lord, I TAKE IT BACK! I. TAKE. IT. BACK!!” AZ’s response: “So, you were visited by the Shit Monster, too?”

Okay, I'm Tired

2006-04-25T21:46:00.000-04:00

I can’t even think of something decent to write. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon

2006-04-22T23:47:00.000-04:00

AZ stopped by last night for a little porch time. I brought up the conversation we had had the night before, about “Why is that?” Why is it that we end up coming full circle and just can’t quit each other. His reaction was more body language than spoken. He put his palms to the sky, shrugged, shook his head, bowed it down, and wouldn’t look at me. Defensive? Submissive? Both. It’s hard to talk about things you don’t want to admit. Things that scare you. I had been leaned back in my chair very relaxed, but I leaned forward, kissed his mop of hair, threaded my hands around the back of his neck, and whispered, “It’s okay if we don’t know, right?” He nodded. “It’s okay if we can’t explain it, right?” He nodded. “Then we’re fine.” He nodded. But we both know. We could explain it. But we wouldn’t be fine with it if we did. Far Away - Nickelback from All The Right Reasons This time, This place Misused, Mistakes Too long, Too late Who was I to make you wait Just one chance Just one breath Just in case there’s just one left ‘Cause you know, you know, you know That I love you I have loved you all along And I miss you Been far away for far too long I keep dreaming you’ll be with me and you’ll never go Stop breathing if I don’t see you anymore On my knees, I’ll ask Last chance for one last dance ‘Cause with you, I’d withstand All of hell to hold your hand I’d give it all I’d give for us Give anything but I won’t give up ‘Cause you know, you know, you know That I love you I have loved you all along And I miss you Been far away for far too long I keep dreaming you’ll be with me and you’ll never go Stop breathing if I don’t see you anymore So far away Been far away for far too long So far away Been far away for far too long But you know, you know, you know I wanted I wanted you to stay ‘Cause I needed I need to hear you say That I love you I have loved you all along And I forgive you For being away for far too long So keep breathing ‘Cause I’m not leaving Hold on to me and never let me go

Back and Forth

2006-04-21T01:25:00.000-04:00

Cardiologists says: This EKG is bad. Nate’s pediatricians says: There is nothing wrong with the EKG. Something is wrong with Mr. Nathanial. No caffeine (wags fingers), no carbonation at all. No pop, no chocolate. We’ll send him to pediatric cardiologist to have him wear the halter monitor. She said also that it is probably not the Adderall. (Most likely it’s the pop we give him to tweak the Adderall.) Since Nate had another episode this morning, she said since he has been off the medication for almost two weeks, it is probably not. I’m not convinced of much but I’ll take what I get at this time. One small sigh of relief. ***** Talked to AZ this evening. Laughed my guts out. We’re still working on actually seeing each other in the flesh. We’ll get there. But, you know, he throws this shit out sometimes that takes me off guard. For example, we were discussing the fact that we have continued to tell ourselves for the past 14 years, “Just one more time, then I’m gonna quit you.” Both knowing, that’s a crock of hooey, and we’re gonna come back around. He asks, “Why is that?” “W-W-What?” Deep, low voice “Why is that?” *Silence* Thinking to self: Why is he digging beneath the surface? I like the surface. The surface doesn’t ask questions. The surface is what it is. Is he fishing? What’s he fishing for? Why did he ask this fucking question? I did finally answer him. In a nutshell - I know he’s not going to turn into a stalker or an annoying whining jerk-off, and, most importantly, I can be myself. (Not to mention he’s HAWT, and we have this attraction to one another, and attitude, we both have this ATTITUDE, he has more attitude than I do, but ya know, it’s there.) But still, most importantly, I can expose the facets of my personality, one after another, in random order, in varying intensities, and he keeps up. Yeah, funny though that he didn’t answer his own question. Hmmmmm... he said for me to call him tomorrow after 11:00. Although I have a feeling, the answer will be about the same.

Silver Linings

2006-04-19T23:07:00.001-04:00

#1 Instead of having a sudden cardiac death, Nate is still around to love and be loved. Huge silver lining. #2 Celti, for answering my call for help with my business cards and brochures. She’s worked up a beautiful design and has been beyond, just beyond, anything you could imagine. #3 Seven, for answering my e-mail for my website design. He speaks a language I don’t understand at times, and it’s not Cajun, but has taken Celti’s design and has been working on the perfect look for my new website with perks. #4 An angel, who prefers not to be named, for being overtly generous and helping me out with a slight logistical problem and ensuring that I nabbed a ticket to Houston for Blogmeet. Exactly, why aren’t you coming with me??? #5 AZ, for understanding my other logistical problems and just for understanding me, period. #6 You. For understanding when I don’t answer your e-mails on time, miss your calls, forget to change your link, forget to visit, and sometimes, forget to link you at all. Thanks for understanding how full and crazy my life is right now and that eventually life will tilt and be back in some semblance of balance, which for me, is about 15 degrees off anyway. You’re appreciated.