The volume of spam I have been receiving at my office account has dropped dramatically this week. Spammers must take vacations, too! However, the vicodin and zanax and codeine peddlers still keep me on their list, even through the holidays. They know it can take some strong stuff to get through this time of year.
Month: December 2004 (Page 1 of 6)
The great thing about Polly the WunderLab, is that she is ebullient. She is excited. She loves EVERYTHING and EVERYBODY, and her biggest drawback is that she thinks she’s a 10# lap dog & should be allowed to lean/climb up onto anyone and everyone who gives her the time of day.
So, needless to say, getting her into her hunting vest from Cabela’s is a walk in the park. You just have to tell her she’s SO PRETTY and she has a blast. She runs around and shows everyone how pretty she is, and is a-ok in it.
Not so much with Suzy.
My husband didn’t exactly fawn and dote all over Suzy in her formative years, so she developed a more reserved personality. She’s a lover, and she’s friendly, but she doesn’t have that second-child clownish persona, and she’s quite content to be a little more reserved, a little more austere, to walk the Grace Kelly route and be a little above the fray. Which means she HATES her hunting vest. She will barely walk when it’s on, and the only word that perfectly captures her expression? BALEFUL. That dog looks like she is trying to squash murderous thoughts, but the homicidal tendencies are winning.
I submit to you, dear readers, the photographic evidence. Our stomachs hurt from laughing, I’m sorry to say, mostly at Suzy’s expense.
Luckily for Suzy, she’s got a very thick winter coat & won’t be needing her vest the way Polly does.
Luckily for us, she didn’t kill us in our sleep.
I FEEL FABULOUS! I am PRETTY, and this vest just makes me feel like hunting or going to Paris, whichever comes first. 
This is the most humiliating moment of my life, next to last night, when you put this blasted thing on me the first time.
*I* do not understand what her deal is, lady. *I* feel extra pretty in mine.
I am going to shut my eyes, and pray that when I open them, this thing will be off.
Today, I almost threw my FagHag badge of honor out the window. I was behind three ‘family’ men in line at Costco, and I will acknowledge upfront that I was operating under the influence of no food, or virtually no food, because there were not many grazing opportunities in the aisles of Costco today & I only had a sliver of grilled chicken breast & a small paper cup of “rice bowl”. Given that it’s been unseasonably warm, no large building structure has figured out that when it is 60 degrees outside, having the heat on high is no longer necessary, no matter what the calendar says. So it was boiling hot, and Gay Man #3 had committed the first atrocity, not putting the divider bar on the belt. It would be the first of many he and his trio would commit.
GM #1 apparently was the only cardholder of the bunch. So that meant three transactions with the card being handed back and forth as Edmonika tried to keep everything straight. PUN INTENDED. (Also, I am not kidding, that was her name, on my receipt. I wondered as I left, did her parents combine their names? Is it a family name? What the hell?) At this point, I am pissed that I picked this line. And starting to get the shakes, while getting a little sweaty, which makes me feel sub-pretty, and not just a little pukey. So I want these fruitcakes to hurry it the F up, and I’m giving them all sorts of leeway, because I love my gay men, and 90% of the time the connection is instant. Not so today! They are buying TONS of wine, which means overriding the age/date of birth crap every time. And they have three huge jugs of vegetable oil. Wine & vegetable oil. Huh. Midnight tomorrow night was going to be VERY interesting, wherever this trio was. I was envisioning things I should never, ever imagine. Oh! And a bottle of Baileys, that never made it out of the cart. Whups! That’s GM #1’s bottle of Baileys, we’ll need to do a fourth transaction real quick like. GM #3 could not figure out how to work the card swiper. Dude. It’s a flick of the wrist, and please, do not, do NOT make me have to show you how. You are standing between me and a dollar-fifty hot dog plus drink, I am sweaty, I have low blood sugar, and I feel dangerously close to morphing into the elderly lady who works at Hobby Lobby when she gets close to lunch break and starts barking about her diabetes and low blood sugar and how she HAS GOT TO EAT RIGHT NOW. So in a post-Christmas fashion, I dedicate a little song to you, for driving me insane for 15 minutes at a low blood sugar moment in my life.
Ye three queens, disoriented are.
Buying wine, you’ll haul to your car.
Yield your cash card, you should be barred,
My afternoon you’ll mar.
O men who blunder, shoes so light,
Can’t get a transaction right,
Still not speeding, still not breeding,
You’re still the ones in whom I delight.
Man, I’m gonna sink into a depression if something upbeat & positive doesn’t happen SOON! I can barely watch the footage of the aftermath of the tsunami, I keep checking the lists of Americans who died, because I’m terrified I’ll see my co-worker Angela, who went home to Malaysia at the beginning of December, and now Jerry Orbach, my beloved Lenny from Law & Order has just died. Is this what getting older is all about? Surviving?
My father & his family left a day early, because he was in excruciating pain from his shoulder & he just wanted to get home (and to his chiropracter). I understand it, but it’s disappointing. The time we had together was way too short, and I also realized partway through, my expectations for the time we’d spend together were far too grandiose. Not that I thought we’d be all Algonquin Round Table and sit around and talk non-stop, but I also didn’t get time alone with him, really. It’s like I expected the kinds of talks we have on the phone – but you can’t get that because there’s four other people sitting there & it’s impolite to exclude them. And they’re nice people, I just don’t know them that well, two of them are teenagers, given to fits of apathy & silence.
James is gone through Sunday, he was barely here & we’ve had very little time together one-on-one with the holidays & family & his hunting – I miss him, even more today. Especially having awoken from a dream this morning in which he was having a torrid affair & using his duck hunting as a “cover”. Putting that in print makes me laugh, but it’s funny how our dreams take tiny grains of an idea, or insecurity, or even something you laughingly referenced, and blow them up into a full-scale movie production that leaves you sweaty & slightly dizzy when you stagger out of the theater of the mind.
So now is the point where I should really start to relax, right? I might just give myself the luxury of a nap, and then I’ll decide if I’m going furniture shopping. I’ve got to clean up the house & do some grocery shopping – but right now, I just want there to be a little peace in the world. People to not die, people to be safe, happy, and in good health. I have a dog who loves to hug me, so that’s a blessing I’ll count. I have a husband who loves me & is off doing what he loves. I have a father who loves me & stays in my life – even from afar. I am going to trust that everything else will just be OK, & hope the nap shakes off some of my discombobulation!
So on learning to be more flexible, and to do more with family, I awoke at 5:15 a.m. yesterday & prepared for my annual post-holiday shopping spree, with Grandma Dorothy in tow this year. The poor thing had gotten up at 2:30 a.m. to drive up with Grandpa for the hunting trip with James, and she was not only tired, but cold. So I give her a four-star merit badge for Shopping Trooper, because we shopped until nearly noon. Interestingly enough, the woman is also a deer magnet. On the drive up, a deer passed behind them and bonked the back of their sedan (no damage to either moving object), and as we were heading down State Line Road at 6 a.m., two deer crossed in front of us. We marveled at Deer in the City, only to realize a THIRD deer was running alongside the Civic. GOOD GRIEF! I stopped and let it cross as well, and, laughing, we were off to shop. Shop, shop shop. The deals were not as bountiful as I’d hoped, but I did get re-stocked on wrapping paper, boxes, bows & bags, and got some little gifties that will be good for giving through the year.
The menfolk got back home to potato & ham soup, and sitting next to Dorothy’s luggage (for they were going to stay with us last night, Grandpa going hunting with James again in the morning), Grandpa changed his shoes and gruffed, “OK Dorothy, let’s get going, we gotta get the camera back to Sandy’s, stop by Linda’s and then get home, because I’m meeting them at the boat ramp at 7 a.m. tomorrow down south.”
Dorothy’s face was what you’d see if you looked up “What the FUCK?” in the dictionary. “What?” she said, omitting the part I would have said.
Grandpa repeated himself. I said, “So you’re telling me you’re going back home tonight?”
James said, “Yes! We’re duck hunting tomorrow at ~whatever whatever, I can’t keep these duck hunting places straight ~ and Grandpa’s meeting us in the morning.”
Dorothy looked fit to be tied. She was planning (and had packed for) a couple of nights up in the city, not to mention some gambling, and spending time with all her relatives. Now, nearly 12 hours later, she was headed back for home.
The opening was so perfect. So appropo on the heels of our discussion from the night before, about James’ wish that I would be more flexible with family stuff.
I said, “Dorothy, you just gotta be more *flexible*.”
James looked like I had popped him in the nose. I couldn’t stop laughing. I added, “I would be SO MAD if it were me!” And don’t get me wrong, she WAS mad. I bet that was a looong ride home for Grandpa.
I award her a Red Star of Homicidal Restraint.
When I was growing up, my family was, essentially, my mother & my father. A black lab was my stand-in sibling. There were very few visits with family, we would see my dad’s sister every so often, and I adored her. My mother’s family was always at arm’s length, and most visits were obligatory and had lots of kvetching on the front & back ends.
So I don’t know how to “have family”, I’ve concluded. My husband has a pretty large circle of family, that gathers together for everything, and attendance is expected. Spending time together is mostly desirable, and spending more time together is a “bonus”. Another foreign concept for me.
I’ve been challenged today to be more flexible. To give more of my time to family, because they are, in essence “my family”. And they’re not bad, or awful, or too insane as far as family goes. The most certainly give me lots to laugh at! James invited his grandfather to go hunting with him tomorrow, and the next day, and in doing so, invited his grandmother to spend all day, and possibly the next day, too, with me! And I did not react well, both in front of family (that was more just pursed lips and big eye glances) and then once they left, the Discussion took place. Actually, several Discussions took place. One, I was raised that when you have company, everything has to be perfect, and you set aside your plans and time to devote completely to company. Two, I was not raised with doing things with family, and being an only child, I love having time to myself and react badly when it is taken away. Three, James is going to learn (and had an opportunity later that evening) to INCLUDE me in these discussions, to consult me & my plans, rather than just stating it will happen without regard to what I might want. Because that is the crux of the matter, here. I am planning to see Shelley for her birthday tomorrow, Mike & Gordon will hopefully stop by, and I was not planning on having to take care of anyone else but me. And when you consult the aforementioned Company Rules, my plans go out the window. That is when James said, “But they’re NOT company. It’s *family*.”
And a little bulb went off, that this IS different somehow, and it’s not something I know. So I’m not going to do it right all the time, but it also means it’s an opportunity to learn to do it differently. And his grandmother is NOTHING if she’s not a gamer. The woman will eat any kind of food – she may not like it, but she’ll try it! I’ll look through my library, too, for a good book to lend her – she likes to read, and rejected our Lemony Snickett books as “too depressing”. I don’t need to wait on her, we’ll make chocolate cherry biscotti together, and I can do some of my own “stuff” without feeling guilty. I can try, anyway.
So, when James was talking to his mom on the phone later, and started to invite her along to the dinner out with my father, he caught himself, stopped, and asked me about it – which is really what I need most, to feel some part of the decision. Of course we want her to come along. THANK YOU for asking.
And as I was munching on the snack mix his grandmother left us, I said, “Does she use the standard Chex Mix recipe and add cheetos & nuts?” James replied, “I dunno.” I couldn’t resist. I said, “Oh, never mind. I’ll be spending the next 48 hours with her – I’ll just ask her then.”
We both laughed. It’s important to laugh, and what better place to start? With family.