Saturday, March 31, 2007

As the stomach turns is relocating?

When we last left our Heroine~~yours truly, my blog, I am the Heroine damn it~~she was questioning her role at her job and her own existence frankly. Happily all these questions have been resolved in one way or another. But, because this IS a soap opera, "As the Stomach Turns" to be precise we have lots more villains and controversies for our Heroine to be embroiled in.

Beefcake, also known as Passive Aggressive Man in these here parts, is falling apart. Not mentally but physically. He had to have a tendon repaired in his wee little foot. He has to have potentially serious surgery on his wee hand. He is a mechanic. Beefcake is starting to wonder if perhaps he needs to get into a less physically demanding line of work. He has declared, not so quietly, how much he hates, abhors really, our neck of the woods. He wants to move. He wants to move badly.

Therefore, as our Heroine returned skipping home from her shopping excursion with Little Red Riding Hood last Saturday, Little Red for short, he had a surprise for our fearless Heroine. Guess what? He was trolling the Internet in her absence and found an opening for a job teaching mechanics in a small community college about three hours North of our neck of the woods. He was more than excited as he showed our Heroine the job announcement. He had all the qualifications he needed! He was going to apply. This was their ticket out of here, pure Hell in Beefcake's opinion, WOOHOO. Dramatic music pounded in the background. How would our Heroine react? Would she throw herself to the floor in a dramatic fashion cursing the God's as to her ill fate? Would she find out that she had a rare form of Irritable Bowel Syndrome that rendered her incapable of moving out of the county she has lived in for the last 18 years?!?

Nah. She very calmly asked, "Hey, how far is Dinkytownville from Candace", her very best friend in the whole world? "How far is it from real shopping?" After all she just had the fresh taste of good shopping on her delicate palette from her trip with Little Red. As Beefcake told her she would be about an hour and half from BF and about an hour in the other direction from real shopping and other forms of debauchery her heart swelled. "Okay, I can do that," she announced.

Beefcake was thrilled. He thought he'd have to drag her kicking and screaming from their town. This was going to be easier than he thought! There was the matter of sellling the house in this crappy housing market. But, maybe the market will get better by summertime. "Well, we would probably have to move this summer. They are looking for somebody to start by the fall semester 2007," he said with one eye closed wondering about her reaction? Was she going to go crazy on his Beefy ass? Hope swelled his manly chest.

"Well, that be okay," our Heroine reasoned, "that way the boys can start the school year off in a different school. What about the house?" Our Heroine is not only brilliant, cute, and witty, but she's realistic as well. He told her he was worried about that too, but hopefully it would sell quickly. Beefcake couldn't believe it! Who knew our Heroine could be so level headed and easy to deal with? Who knew indeed. This was going to be soooo easy.

UGH-OOH do you hear that? Yes, it is the approaching footsteps of THE IN-LAWS.

Beefcake hadn't counted on the Drama Queen (DQ) herself, our Heroine's mother, who likes to pretend she's a Jewish mother even though we're not Jewish. To say she threw a fit and gave Beefcake and our Heroine a guilt trip of epic proportions would be putting it lightly. "But, if you move that far away I will only see my boys two times a year," she wailed. "What will you do with your house? It's soooo isolated up there. Why would you want to leave MEEEEEEEEEEEE?!?!?!?!" This was all said as she was very pathetically holding one of the boys toys to her chest acting like we had just announced we were moving to Africa and would be joining a cult where you renounced all things from your homeland.

"Ma", our Heroine reasoned, "it's only about three hours away. You can see us whenever you want. The boys can come down for vacations. You can come up. It won't be that bad. We don't even know if Beefcake will get the job. He hasn't even applied yet. He really really hates it here and this could be a great opportunity for him. It could be a very good thing."

"Ma, you and Dad could move up there too ya know. There would be lots of opportunities for Dad to log. You don't like it here anymore than Beefcake." Our Heroine was quite proud of herself. She was handling this like a pro!

"WELLLLLLLLL," DQ responded, "I can never move. We are stuck here taking care of your Grandma. I can never ever move. Not ever." As she said this a tear trembled on her eyelid and her chin quivered.

"AND, who will you use for daycare?" she countered recovering from her moment of contrived emotion. "You won't have family up there, I guess you'll just have to take your kids EVERYWHERE with you. What will you do when they are sick and you have to go to work? What then? What will you do without your family? What's so bad about it here anyway? OHMYGAWD, doesn't it snow up there? Isn't it like 4000 feet?"

At this point our Heroine's eyes glazed over and she looked at her Jewish mother in training and thought, yes indeed, what will I do without my family? Make my own decisions? Live my life? Not have to wonder if I buy white bread instead of wheat what the family will say? Not have to worry about taking her kids to the newest "Star Wars" because she knows VS will freak out, and oh how she did freak out when she found we took our very own kids to Star Wars. She thought of K and all her antics and of VS apparent incredible success in taking over our Heroine's highly publized and complete failure in the parenting of K. And how VS and DQ liked to rub it in her face everyday how good K was doing now that she was with VS, where she belonged all along. It would be very nice not to have to look at that and hear about it everyday. Yes, indeed our Heroine wondered almost out loud, what will she do without her family under her bloody feet ever frickin day of her life? It was hard to make out but she sat very quietly and listened hard she could almost hear angels singing and the slight delicate notes of a harp playing. It sounded like it was coming from, oh I don't know, about 3 hours away.


And then, the phone rang. It was Personality #4 that resides in CrazyDruggie sister..............




Friday, March 23, 2007

Tell me your secrets and I'll tell you no lies?

I have blogged about this before, people like to tell me their secrets. Why? I don't know. Is it my round face? Does it scream out that I am trustworthy and a good listener? Does being fat make people assume your life is so empty so that you will be interested to hear of their most private and sordid secrets? Is it that obvious I am very inquisitive and like to know how people tick? Do I just look like a sucker?

I work with a gentleman whom I assume is probably in his 50's, he has been married 35 years and looks to be about my father's age. He is a nice enough man, I'll call him Beanpole. He sits on the other side of my cubicle. We have exchanged pleasantries and he is usually quite pleasant. He gives me brownies and chocolate sometimes, so he must be a good guy, right? Well, today, I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, answering the phone doing my job yada yada. He stands up and says, "Jodi, are you on a call? I want a woman's opinion on something." I said, okay, and put myself in "personal time" so that my phone wouldn't ring and I could talk to him for 5 seconds without getting interrupted.

"What's up, Beanpole?," I innocently ask as he takes a seat in the empty chair next to me.

Beanpole leans his lanky frame in close to me, lowers his voice to a barely audible whisper and points to his wedding ring. "You see this?", he asks me as I nod that yes, I see he is married or at least wearing a very large, very gold band that indicates he is a taken man. "I don't like wearing this, but I do it because I have been married for 35 years. My girlfriend also wears her ring, as she is married as well. We have been having an affair for 2 years. I am madly in love with my girlfriend. She won't leave her husband. Her kids are grown, but still live at home, she says she can't leave her husband because it will ruin their, the kids, life. Do you think that is true?"

I am not sure the look that must have crossed my face. One that may have given away my thoughts of WTF?? Do I look like a counselor? Have we ever said more than 2 words to each other? Why are you asking me THIS? However, being the ever helpful and nurturing coworker that I am and hoping to cut down on work place violence, I probed, I asked lots of questions. I surmised that Beanpole should probably think long and hard about his marriage and his mistress. Perhaps they all didn't have the healthiest relationship? (you think?) Perhaps he should rethink his relationships with both women. He claims he stays with his wife because when he leaves, as he moved out for 6 months, she starts striking out at people and being mean to people that have nothing to do with the situation. So he stays to protect the world at large I suppose. What a saint. What a martyr. My hero. **gag, gag***

"Wow, Beanpole", I remark, "You must be a busy guy! Being married, having a girlfriend, and you always work so many overtime hours", it is true he works a LOT of overtime.

"Well," he says lowering his voice now to a tone that would suggest we were sharing a intimate secret, "you don't know the half of it. This is incredibly confidential, mind you. I am also a deacon in my church, I teach Sunday school, I am an active member of the church."

I know at that point my face MUST have given me away. Not only is he a slime ball womanizer, he is a man of the cloth so to speak. "Really, and what would your church think if they found out that you have a mistress?" I ask barely containing my disdain.

"Oh, they would kill me," he says, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders as if he had just told me he switched his car insurance to Gico.

"Um, well, Beanpole, it sounds to me like you have a LOT to think about. You have a lot to lose. Wow. It's no wonder you're so grouchy sometimes". When I said that a big boyish grin spread across his face, "You're so right!", he exclaimed, "THAT is why I get so cranky". After 13 minutes, he buzzed his way over to his side of the partition and said "Thanks, Jodi, I had a feeling that my girlfriend was really hung up on her role as a mother. And you confirmed it! Thanks".

Um, yeah, anytime you philandering hypocritical womanizer you! EWWWWWWWWWWW. Why oh why do people tell me this stuff, I ask you? WHY??? I am NOT a mental health professional nor do I play one on TV. Good Lawd people.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Do you ever have a moment in your life when you stand back and go, WOW? I am experiencing such a moment in my life as we speak. Coincidence, I think not. I have a favorite local columnist who writes for our hometown paper. I have always LOVED her writing. I used to have a ton of her columns cut out and taped to my refrigerator. They have since yellowed and met a desperate and sad demise after they became soggy from leaping into the dog dish or met other cruel fates that can only happen in my crazy house. When I first started going to school and had high aspirations of becoming a famous novelist, such dreams have now been deserted in favor of a more realistic goal of working in the courthouse, I would tell anyone who would listen that I wanted to be a writer like Bonnie Sitter. She really was, is, my writing idol. I love her style of writing. It is honest, funny, and thought provoking.

Imagine, if you will, my surprise 2 semesters ago when guess who came strolling into my Admin. of Justice class? That's right. None other than Bonnie Sitter, I would recognize her anywhere, I looked at her picture for the last 8 years or so above her column every Saturday. I remember sitting there wondering if I should ask her if she was indeed Bonnie Sitter? Would she think I was a creepy stalker? I argued internally over making an ass out of myself in front of my literary idol. Finally my curiosity and my incredible friendliness won over. I spun around in my chair, "What's your name", I asked in my most non-threatening normal person voice. "Um, Bonnie," she replied quite meekly. "I thought so!", I exclaimed grinning like a idiot. "I love, love, love your column. You are the best writer, you really are." I gushed like a schoolgirl. "Thanks", Bonnie replied looking around the room as if to remember whom she could call to testify in her behalf later after I had attacked her in the parking lot demanding she tell me who was her muse, dammit!

Fast forward to the present day. Guess who I am going shopping with tomorrow? We are friends, Bonnie and I! True blue friends. I have been to her house, we've lunched and shopped before. However, when I really stop to think about it, the fact that I am actually friends with someone who I admired from behind my Saturday morning paper for literally years it completely blows my mind. How often does that happen? Really, in real life? Not very often in my estimation. And you know what, we really do have as much in common as I imagined that we would all those lonely Saturday mornings as I read her column nodding my head and yelling "Amen!" to the paper. It seems unreal when I stop to think about it, it really does.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

My blogaversary

Holy Moly, I have been blogging for a whole year now. I have 62 posts under my belt and at least 6000 comments I would estimate on all your blogs. I have to say I am very happy that I have ventured into the blogging community. It is a great outlet that is for certain. I am continually amazed by the amount of talent that you, my fellow bloggers, display on a daily basis. Your writing often makes me laugh out loud, snorting on occasion even, sometimes I am moved to tears, and often a post follows me throughout my day and is rumbling in the back of my brain while I contemplate the meaning of the universe. Who knew that blogging could be so complex? Certainly not I. I thank all of you for reading my drivel and for blessing me with your comments. I also thank you for allowing me to read your deep innermost thoughts via your blog(s), I feel truly privileged for such a honor!

**cough cough** UGH, I don't really like all the mushiness I just displayed. Sorry, that is uncharacteristically sentimental of me, I must be going soft after a year of blogging. Ahem.

Now back to Jodi's world as we know it. I have had a few of my favorite readers (okay, one) ask me about Chad's foot and his recovery. He said to tell y'all that he is recovering quite nicely from his sky diving accident. In an unfortunate turn of events we have discovered that he also caught his hand on the landing gear while attempting to save himself while free falling from the sky in his freak accident and now has to have hand surgery as well. ~~The hand surgery part is true, he does have to have surgery on his wrist. The sky diving story is an elaborate attempt on his part to seem daring and adventurous. Don't you dare tell him I told you it's a ruse~~Despite his extreme bravery in his near death experience his leg is healing nicely. He is still on crutches and is getting a bit of cabin fever. Poor guy. He is so used to running around like a crazy man and working all the time that he doesn't know how to relax. I told him it takes weeks of practice and that if he's on disability long enough he will fully acquire the skills necessary to sit on the couch for hours at a time chatting on the phone, watching Judge Judy, napping several times throughout the day and blogging. He doesn't believe me. Amateur.

Y'all have been asking me about my job. It's actually going quite well. No sightings of Creepy guy in a long time. I know he still works there but I never see him. Thank Goodness. I just found out I will be getting another .75 cent an hour raise! They pay me a ridiculous amount of money to answer the phone, I tell ya. A trained monkey could do my job, but the callers may have a hard time understanding him,so I can see the rub there I guess. Some days my job really really pisses me off, but who's job doesn't? For the most part I like it okay. I am glad that I am going to school still because it helps keep me content. If I knew I had to answer phones for the rest of my life in a call center I may get a tad bit discontent. However, for now they are paying me good money to appease semi pissy people on the phone and that's enough for the time being. I love love love it when I get to talk to someone who has a strong accent, that makes my whole day. Or when they call me Ma'am. I positively swoon when I am called Ma'am. Texans are SOOOOO polite, my Texan callers always call me Ma'am and I just love it. I also don't have to deal with people in person and my personal safety never feels threatened, which cannot be said for when I worked at the bank, and something I appreciate. I could also theoretically run into someone uptown that had just screamed at me on the phone and I don't know them and they don't know me. I like that. Again, the same can't be said for working at the bank. It can be a little tense when you see someone in public that you had to call the police on for making a scene in the lobby of the bank, let me tell you. I also LOVE that I get to set my own schedule and can dictate my hours. That is awesome and a wonderful perk.

Good Gawd, can you believe me today? I am gushing all over this post. Ugh. I am making myself ill.

Let's see...is there anything I can bitch about? Hmmm, went to San Francisco with Candace, had a wonderful time. I discovered espresso martinis, yumm-o. Ate a bunch of good food with advocates for children with special needs. Listened to some really thought provoking speakers talk about autism and coping with children who have all kinds of disabilities. Incredibly interesting. No complaints there. Candace and I got to spend 3 days sans kids (and husbands) in a fancy hotel. I really really can't complain about that. She did some dying, tweaking and waxing of my hair and eyebrows which is always lots of fun, for me! I bought her a mug and we called it even. Poor Candace. I think she possibly got the raw end of the deal.

T is still not in treatment. She is wandering the streets of LA with her multiple selves doing God knows what to God knows who. I got a letter from her the other day. She told me about her "girls" ( her other personalities) and how she didn't my know my address but she knew one of the "girls" must have it. She said she would leave the letter out and one of them would probably address it and get it in the mail to me. I did receive it so one of them most of followed through. Mind boggling, no? She also told me about starting near riots in her drug treatment (outpatient, court ordered) classes when she is bored, That made me laugh because that is T to a t. She loves to instigate chaos whenever she can and always has. I think all her persona lites have that in common. I worry about her and pray she will be okay and that she will get help.

I haven't hardly seen K. Her and VS are bonding and are happy as little clams. Whatever. It barely annoys me. I hope everything goes well for them all and they leave me out of it, Truly.

My new laundry room and coat closet are done! Yeah. Love them. It 's really working out well and I have thrown away so much crap while getting it all organized, and that is a great feeling. When Chad recovers he is going to paint and get everything all prettied up. My Dad is great at the actual construction, the aesthetically pleasing stuff, not so much. I'll have Trent take pictures and help me post them on my blog when we're done. Oh how I wish I were kidding....

And with that, I will sign off on my blogaverisary. Here's to another 60 some posts and 6000 or so odd comments~