I woke up with a hang-over and went to bed a theif

The hang-over wasn't even fairly earned cause it was only 3 Coors lights but apparently warranted due to the 10 hour work day and only banana, a small peach yoghurt and a 2 diet coke diet. 

The day was planned over a week ago and a definite necessity in my final move-out plan so I rallied - packed my Jeep with as many of my storage bins as possible and space for my spazzy boxer dog in the back seat. 

Needed initial stop at the dog park for the daily doggy constitutional and run then we drove to pick up my back-up support, BFF, before the 2 hour drive to our familys mountain house where the storage bins would be kept fot the time being.

Drive was me yackin up the BF with all my up-dating on the work drama and brief stop for over-priced fuel and then a pee stop at MacDonalds.   Even the arrival at the house with the 'ex' there to pick up his stuff was really okay.  Everyone was chatty and putting on their best front considering the last-ness of the situation.

BFF and I spent the next couple of hours drinking Bud Lights in cans which were indeed sporting the Chargers logo and I kept the fire stoked.  Gotta give the 'ex' credit for being kind enough to start up the heater and even start the fire for us before leaving with his pub table, blow-up mattress and cooler.  I won't mention that he forgot his fan but did return my Tom Jones CD.

So, the night grew late and the BFF found her spot on the couch in front of the fire, with our loyal pooch nearby of course cause we vie for her attention.  I knew this was time for my work to begin.  I thought it would be a simple task in my perspective but in the end my knuckles are bleeding and I am looking at newspapers dated October 6, 2000.

Our neighbors in this remote area only come to their cabin maybe once or twice a year.  There was a small, kinda nasty pile of construction wood from a roof repair several years ago in the back of their yard which had some wood that I thought I might snag for our fires in the future - everything is soaked wet now due to recent rain and this particular wood was full of nails and somewhat deteriorated so I didn't think they'd miss it.  My plan was to take a few of the better peices and put them in our shed to dry out.  I took 2 armloads and stored them in our shed.

Hmm.  I thought.  Around the corner the lady who I've talked to a lot, another weekender, has a humongous heap of wood.  And it's piled up like for an army of fires or something but it just sits there year after year with the base of the wood deteriorating into  the earth cause of the snow and rain - can't even figure why they have this much wood or why it's all there.

So, I convince myself, an otherwise really geeky honest person, to go get some of this wood.  I'm thinking an armload - but my brother has this wood carrier thing so I took that along.  Figured I could only carry so much myself anyways.  Boots are already on and mom's knitted scarf from last Christmas was in place, heavy overcoat on, what could go wrong? 

Without using my flashlight I realized that the woodpile was closer to the road than having to walk around the bend and down the driveway cause there were bushes between the road and the woodpile so I decided to cut through.  Ooops, really bad idea.  Thorny, thorny, thorny.  I took 2 steps and was drawn to the wet ground and encased in some badass thorn bush and it was in complete darkness.  This wasn't just a little push through it thorn, this was an "I own you" thorn bush.  See, what a life a crime can lead to?

I actually sat there feeling the wet ground soaking my jeans trying to figure out how to get out of these thorns without tearing my face and ripping up my clothes for about a minute.  Biting the bullet, I just went for it and got out with slightly torn pants, jacket and some skin injuries.  At that point, the wood was earned.  I walked around the bend the down the drive, cut around the shed and there she was: the big, fat, wet, pile.

Using now the flashlight, I did my best to fill my brothers wood carrier, which is really more than I can carry I learned.  I dropped the load 6 times on the way back because the wood was so damn wet and heavy, each time I had to reload the thing.  By the the time we got home it added up to 8 pieces of cut wood.  Worth it?  8 pieces of wood.

Oh crap!  Where are my keys!  I always keep my keys in the same pocket and they weren't there when I got this load back!  Crap.  It's dark.  I fell in the thorns, I walked around the bend and to the woodpile.  Okay, I guess I have to retrack my steps and find them, and so I go.  Oh, and there was the puddle of muck that I stepped in twice.  So, I went back through it all with my flashlight and found no keys but was brazen enough to fill my arms with another messy load of wet wood along the way.  Total of soaken wet wood stolen tonight: 14.  Worth the experience?  Well, it will make for a good rocking chair tale.  Thorn bush attack, mud, muck, cold and now a guilty conscience and a criminal history - for the amount of wood that the gas station sells for about $6.

What does one pack if one must go "on the lamb"?

Oh, and the keys were in the padlock on the shed, right where I had left them of course.

I Know how he likes his bed made

Nevermind that I drove 5 hours today to take my dear friend to have radiation implants placed in his prostate.  Nevermind that we've already been through biopsies and research and decisions and avoided discussions that turned into how pretty the desert mountains look at sunset.

For over a decade, I have watched this perpetual bachelor rise to the occassional occassion of cleaning his home for my arrival to arriving to seeing his reality of grime and disgusting lifestyle.  I have spent many nights cleaning after him and other days and more days of my visits without touching a damn thing and just letting him live in his swill.

One thing I do know about him is how he likes his bed made.  Doesn't matter whether there are sheets on it cause sometimes he just sleeps on the mattress with a towel or a pillow or sometimes just about nothing.  And so you may question, how does that make a bed made?  Oh hell ya.  There is a definite way he wants things and completely different from what many people might think of a bed being made. 

I did make his bed tonight for him, put sheets on it and all.  He does appreciate the creature comforts but as the perpetual bachelor, is a lazy ass.  So, as he was out picking up a friend from work I treated him by my making his bed for him, sheets, blankets and all.  Of course, I made his bed the way he likes it and the way I know he likes it......  I know where to put the Ruger 9mm.  It's always there.  Always in the same place.  He knows where it is.  And so do I. 

He just got back and he's thrilled that I treated him to the bed being made, and he knows I made it just the way he likes it.

Sleep well.

Moving in New Place and the Grief that comes with it

      I'm going to blog without touching on the grief of my friends loss, for the moment. 

      The last 2 weeks have been a bit crazy with moving and working and trying to be a good mom at the same time.  The jackass that I was leaving didn't seem to be bothered by my moving out which surprisingly surprised me at least a little bit.  But okay, when I told him I was moving out he did ask me at least 4 times if I would look after his dog while he was gone....oh, he did tell me on the night I told him that I was moving out that he was leaving the following day for another several week stint in Chicago.  Dumb that I was so surprised that he was more concerned for his dog's care than that I was moving out.  Ugh.
     So, my best friend of a million years helped with my move and it went really well.  I knew I had a month to get all my stuff out so we got the most of it out that first day.  Then I just worked my butt off for the next few weeks to make bank to pay the impending bills and rent.  My kids were thrilled to be back to their home town and within walking distance to school again.  I felt so relieved that we had come 'home' again, our 'hood, our friends, our grocery store.
      Today, my best friend again helped me to go back to the old house and get more stuff.  I'd been making regular trips each other day but was delayed by a flea infestation at the house which took about 10 days and 18 flea bombs to remedy.  We got back on task but unfortunately, jackass had landed back in town and is now giving me grief that I took his tote bins, some of his towels, some of his fuckin pots n pans.   Now, yes, I might have grabbed a few items that weren't mine but not on purpose.  We lived together....things mesh, dang.  I will always give back what I might have taken by accident.
      The bummer is tonight he was all threatening me......was I supposed to forget that he asked me out for lunch later this week? Or perhaps dinner with my kids?   Crap.

A cute pic of my jackass

      So, I spent the last hour piling up tote bins and pots n pans and towels that I know are mine but it's just easier to just give him stuff, which he seems to want. 
      But.  No more Ms. Nice.

Story to come.  Don't mess with me cause I'm usually really nice until you cross my line.  If you read his texts you might come aboard my ship.

Finally moving out. And my friend's husband died.

    

This is a sunset photo of our small town beach

So, after so much rig-a-ma-roe, I finally got all the paperwork in to the leasing agent at the 540-unit complex that I am going to be moving in to.  The move-in date is tomorrow.  Cutely, they have an additional rental application for my dog which includes a necessary veterinary documentation that verifies the breed, the age and the spay/neuter status of my canine.  I also must fill out an application for my doggy and include a photo.  The photo was a challenge this morning cause Brinney, in all her high-ness, decides she's having a bad fur day and won't hold still for the shot.  Okay, got it then have to upload to computer, transfer to disk and take to Rite-Aid to the insta-print machine. 

All this done, and compiling the rest of the relentless proving of who I am and what I do and how much I make - I finally go to the bank to get the dough they want for the deposit and first month's rent.  I am at the teller and chatting her up about how nice a day it is when I see that there is a sign below her booth with a family asking for donations because of.....oh, my god.  That's my friends in that picture.  Kid's and the mom I just had lunch with last month.  Fuck.  Oh, geez, oh fuck.  My friend's husband is dead.  And I am finding out on a flyer at the bank in my small town.  I ask the teller.  She said it was a bee-sting.  A bee-sting.  No. No.  Oh, no.

My day is a daze.  My fog forces me to continue my walk to the leasing agent and turn in my paperwork.  They can't give me the keys until tomorrow.  What?  Yeah, okay.  yeah, 10 o'clock tomorrow. okay.

I call my friend. I leave a message. I text.  I didn't know.  My world is so puny.  I get a text back.  She sounds like she's putting up a strong front.  Being that he was an iconic surf figure in our small beach community, there's gonna be a paddle-out on Saturday in his honor, then bonfire at the beach with food.  I will be there.  Still gotta move tomorrow and the next day.  And then on Saturday I will go to the beach and celebrate the life of a husband and father and businessman and dedicated surfer and Obecian.

Just cannot wrap my brain around this sadness.  Tiny, little bee takes the life of a father.  I am so sad.

Craigslist is a Love/Hate Relationship, plus a plug for Skyy vodka



Un-sponsored plug for Skyy Vodka and the cute guy pitchin it at the grocery store!  woot!

For the last 2 days I have been psychologically eliminating as many things from my household as possible.  I am picking apart my home for things to sell that I don't want to pack up and move.  It's strange cause I really want to get out of this place but I sometimes have a moment of pause when I have to decide  what I can 'officially' part with. 

I am a good decision maker when I set my mind to it, I'm just lazy to get to that point.  Today was a good one.  Over the weekend, I decided that I would put at least 2 things per day for sale on Craigslist.  Friday I did post 2 items. And then Saturday, I got calls on those items but sold none.  I still put 2 new items for sale on Saturday.

Apparently, the castration that I recieved from Friday's postings had caused me to lowball some Saturday postings and alas!  Sunday morning I awoke to multiple calls on a picnic table I had listed for $25.  Joy, I'm gonna pay that $180 water bill!

Picnic table sold!  High bidder: $40

Okay.  A good Sunday.  Then I "re" post, illegal by craigslist standards, but I changed the wording and it passed through.  Yes, you called it - Sold: a granite top side table = $40.

Hot dog!  I've cleared $80 and now owe my neighbor cookies for helping to load the picnic table, (deduct $3 for cookie dough),  All good.  Only 3pm.

Take pictures of a bookshelf and a desk....oh, and shoot a video of the old dresser that someone was interested in from the other night's post......

Okay, I load the pic's and vid on the computer no problem.  Start posting on Craigslist.......waiting....waiting.......waiting...........      

then it craps out, just bails on me - nothin - server is busy...........
try again.........................same..............
start posting.................
try again............same......................
again..............bail...........
again.................YES! - One got through!!!!!

I went to the store and bought cookie dough, a packaged salad and a blue drink.
I made the cookies and put them on a pie tin with a paper towel in it and picked four tomatoes from our garden.  Neighbor seemed pleased I remembered our agreement, his daughter politely took the tomatoes and as the door closed I could hear the little boy asking the Dad why they couldn't swim in our pool.

Then I went back and tried to post my desk for sale on Craigslist.....and while it loaded and loaded and loaded......I called my mother.....and listened and listened and listend......and when I hung up I looked at the computer and it said, THIS DID NOT WORK TRY AGAIN.

Then I poured a martini, (oh a nice Skyy vodka one, cause they had this guy at the store who was selling and dammit I was needing some flirting), and went into the garage and took pictures of the "man cave" items, a 35"tv and a mini fridge. 

TV was from when my cousin came to live via me and sucked my life blood for 3 months - he left his tv as hommage.  Fridge was when Grammy died.  Only by sufferage was I left with makings of a man cave - I did not ask for it. 

So I was trying to post:
Man-Cave Items! Girlfriend Fire Sale! $80 Craigslist:  35" TV and Mini fridge with 1 Miller, the champagne of beers, included.

Dammit, dammit.  Can't get the damn thing to load!  Maybe if I wait a little longer...

Craiglist.  Yeah, I can sell my stuff at a discount eventually, if I take my patience pill.  Sometimes it takes 5 or 6 tries to post something.  And I keep doing it, cause where else can I sell man-cave shit.

**Postnote: At 11:42pm still trying to post in categories: general, household, and jackass.  Keeps stalling out --- Getting to think CL is anti-jackass-man-cave-left-behind-girl-is-pissed-posting. 

It isn't me, really it's not.

Sophocles Definition of Love - i.e.. What I want.

(Yes, this IS what I want).

The most spectacular, indescribable, deep euphoric feeling for someone.

Love is an incredibly powerful word. When you're in love, you always want to be together, and when you're not, you're thinking about being together because you need that person and without them your life is incomplete.

This love is unconditional affection with no limits or conditions: completely loving someone. It's when you trust the other with your life and when you would do anything for each other. When you love someone you want nothing more than for them to be truly happy no matter what it takes because that's how much you care about them and because their needs come before your own. You hide nothing of yourself and can tell the other anything because you know they accept you just the way you are and vice versa.

It's when they're the last thing you think about before you go to sleep and when they're the first thing you think of when you wake up, the feeling that warms your heart and leaves you overcome by a feeling of serenity. Love involves wanting to show your affection and/or devotion to each other. It's the smile on your face you get when you're thinking about them and miss them.

Love can make you do anything and sacrifice for what will be better in the end. Love is intense,and passionate. Everything seems brighter, happier and more wonderful when you're in love.

If you find it, don't let it go.

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love.

-Sophocles

What do you want?



The Coldest Person I've ever known

These are cute and cold frozen things, awwww.

Through the experiences that I'd fallen into with my work and colorful life choices, I pretty much didn't think I'd get "shocked" by a person.

I was wrong.

Officially, the coldest person I have ever known is the person that I am in the process of untangling from, moving out from, running away from, ending a sentence with a preposition from.

I have experience with malfunctioning families.  I have worked with selfish maniacs.  I have had tenants that know poverty as life and know how to lie better than tell truth.

But I have been officially floored beyond what I thought was reasonable for a large family, church raised, blue collar dude.

I guess my story deserves a background, which I will provide in future blogs, but at the moment I'm just gonna purge.  And by that I mean sell everything I have within the timeframe I have, to relocate and start my life again.  Purge, sell, purge, sell.  I need to rack up enough dough to get a new office and new apartment - 5 days down, maybe 3 weeks to go.  Starting to think I may pull it off.

This person that I live with decided to up and leave for "maybe a month".  When asked, 'when are you coming home?', replied, 'I don't know'.  Period.  He asked to use my suitcase and for a ride to the airport.

Okay.

Well, on his behalf, I need to input that last week while I was 3 hours away with a friend at the hospital I did get a text that he had booked a flight.  The 4 days after that I was at home, nary a word was said about this booked trip until the morning of the flight when he asked for my rolling suitcase.

Hell, take it.  Good riddence.  Utility bills aren't paid, rent is due in 10 days.  Guess I'll start selling stuff that I don't want to move.  Thank god for Craigslist.  Seems I have some fancy silver flatware that may fetch a good enough price to cover a deposit on a new place.

But what the hell do I do with his dog?  His effin dog that stinks and pisses on the carpet, nice.

I will breathe and call on the universe to bring a smidgen of good back to me that I have put out there.

Asshole.  I know this will make a good blog one day when I can get some perspective.  The stories are fascinating, truly.  And endless cornucopia of coldness, lack of talking, acknowledging, respecting....undocumented cold, rude, emotional cruelty.  Bah. 

Why did I stay 2 years, you ask?  (Yes, 2 years).  Because I was depressed and pathetic.  Now, I have a choice to die or find my own self again.  In my case, that takes getting really, really mad which I have achieved.

So, the coldest person I have ever known chewed me out because I was wasting (vehicle) gas volunteering for hospice 4 hours a week when I could be using that gas money to look for a better paying job than the other one I had. 

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  Sad + Cold = Alone

What's the coldest thing that someone has done to you?