Subtle Glow

A recent conversation touched on something (or someone) that I don’t often talk about or really deal with in a concrete way.

My father was physically abusive to me growing up. He was also abusive to my mother, my brother, his second wife, and her three children.

He was also verbally abusive. I remember being told I was fat (I was 5′4″ and less than 120 lbs until I was in my 20’s), that I had a big fat ass, that I had a big nose, that my voice was too nasal, etc. I remember thinking then how uncomfortable it was and how hurtful it felt when he said those things, but “at least he’s not hitting me.”

There were nights when the beatings would happen, after everyone else had gone to bed. They all heard him yelling, the slamming, my crying, my screams of fear and pain. They heard him, my stepmother included. There were nights that none of them left their beds as it happened. They laid there, fear pinning them in place as their hearts raced and they hoped he didn’t come in for them next. We all did it. We all had our turn, over and over again.

(Read on …)

The last thing The Daily Show needed in order to achieve perfection. Awesome.

I do not know why.

Over the weekend I found a listing with a local property management company for an apartment that seemed promising.  The blasted place was not open on weekends, so this morning I skipped off to work and called after they opened to find out when I could see it.

“Oh, just stop by anytime between such-and-such times and we can let you see it.”  OK!  After my meeting this afternoon I headed up to the area so I could check it out.

You know where this is going, don’t you?

Rented.  This afternoon.

You know, there was another place not too long ago that seemed just perfect - and that one was whipped out from under me the same day I was scheduled to see it, too.

I’m just saying, if you hear a frantic high-pitched squealy sound…  yeah - that would be my anxiety starting to whistle and boil like a damn tea kettle.

Tip me over and pour me out.

I was browsing through a bunch of news headlines and came across this story about a sign a family put up in their yard… referring to the child of one of their neighbors.

I started shaking my head, thinking how much ignorance abounds across the land, when I clicked the link to the comments on the article.  The first five comments were the standard internet message board posting.  From there the “debate” was reduced to correcting the spelling of other commenters, and then other commenters correcting the spelling of the those, and so on. It is the epitome of petty.

I used to be unable to send out emails or IMs or text messages with incorrect spelling or punctuation.  Now?  I don’t care so much, unless it’s an email going to a potential employer.  Chatting informally in writing is just that… no need to get hung up on the spelling. I admit, I still have to stop myself from getting fanatical about correctly capitalizing and spelling and punctuating my text messages… but as all things go it’s a work in progress.

I found the comment thread hilarious, it’s been a long time since I stumbled into a heated forum where this kind of stuff was going on.  In fact, the last time was while browsing the NSBR board over at Two Peas.  Eventually I had to stop going there, because wooo!  Talk about a train wreck.  HA - case and point.

I tried to post this earlier but somehow I clicked around too much and the internet somehow gobbled it before it made it to the published state of being.

I kicked myself for not getting out of bed earlier this morning to get a jump start on my weekly grocery shopping. By the time I got outside, it was ninety degrees and stifling. Normally you wouldn’t really feel it when it’s that hot, but take that heat and couple it with humidity and I get bitchy.

Seriously though, we get Santa Ana winds blowing through and it gets very hot around here, but also super dry air so you don’t really feel it. You don’t walk outside and get socked by the heat. I can’t remember it ever being so humid before. The inland areas have been rippled with thunderstorms, and if you look East you can see the thunderheads looming beyond the hills. Hell, watching the news last night they said there was a tornado - and HELLO is this not San Diego anymore?

Regardless, it has been H.O.T. So much so that it was actually MY idea to go to the pool this afternoon. MY idea to get in a bathing suit and go out in public. Also, I got in the pool and swam around. That’s when you know it is friggin’ hot. First because of the bathing suit thing, and second because of the “community” water and thus GERM sharing. Somehow, I got over it.
In my efforts to beat back the heat with a billy club cool off, I discovered a new drink combination. Diet cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper, and raspberry rum. Delicious! I highly recommend it.

I admit it, I giggled when I saw this.  I can’t imagine why they would design it that way…

I am not much of a morning person as it is. I get through them, because I have to, since that is generally when the workday begins. My desire to stay employed and all that.

This morning traffic was AWFUL. Just one of those mornings. It’s taken me an hour to get a little over halfway to work (total distance from hom to work: 30 miles).

My phone rings. Hmmm, it’s the day care. I quickly start scanning through our evening last night and our morning today: Kiddo didn’t seem sick, he has his lunch, he was wearing shoes (with laces, even!), and seemed to be all around ok. All this is clicking through my head as I answer the phone.

She identifies herself and then tells me that they have a field trip scheduled for today, to see a baseball game, and I didn’t sign the kiddo up for it, so he doesn’t have a ticket.

Yes, that’s correct. Because when it was time to sign up for the trip, kiddo opted not to go so I didn’t sign the form or pay the money. Obviously.

The problem is that apparently they didn’t make plans to have someone stay behind with the children who weren’t going on this field trip. As a matter of fact, they just assumed I would make other arrangements for child care for that day. In fact, the only response I got when I told them (over a week ago) that he wasn’t interested in attending was, “Ok, then - I’ll just mark him down as a ‘No.’” Great, sounds good! No mention of alternate child care. At. All.
She started to go on about how they made it clear that no one would be here, at which point I had to stop her, because NO they so did not make it clear. Unless by “clear” you mean “mind reader” in which case - uhm, still NOT. Last time I checked anyway. Regardless, it’s obvious someone didn’t make it clear at all, because the only thing clear right now is that this is surprising and also upsetting NEWS to me.
She really couldn’t have cared less. All she knew was that he wasn’t scheduled to go and I needed to come and get him. Because they were all leaving and no one would be there to watch him.

I can write about it now, hours after the fact, when I’m not nearly as riled as I was. I couldn’t stop myself from giving her an earful on how completely unacceptable the lack of communication was. I asked what exactly should I do, you know, given that I was on my way to WORK, so that I could oh I don’t know, keep myself employed at an actual paying JOB. In the interest of housing and clothing and feeding the child I’m responsible for, but you know - no big deal or anything.

Her response was basically along the lines of, “Don’t know. Don’t care. Not my problem.”

I called his dad to see what we should do, do I need to bail on work or should he?  We throw around ideas and come up with a loose gameplan.  No sooner do we hang up and she calls back again to tell me that they had a cancellation last night and he could use that ticket to go to the game.

FIRST.  Why wasn’t that part of the original conversation?

Second.  I am so thoroughly annoyed at this point I just decide to hell with it, I am going to go pick him up and work from home.  I’ll just have to deal with the reaction from work on that later.

Third.  If I had another childcare to send him to I would yank him out of there TODAY, on the grounds that this is not the first “surprise - we are not available today!” that I have had with them.  Not to mention the near-misses in the past due to the crappy communication from them.

I am slowly getting fed up with pretty much the whole world right now…  AND I gave up coffee this week!

I love Starbucks coffee.  Love LOVE it.  I have gotten in to a habit of having an iced venti sugar-free vanilla with room americano… every day.

Now, an americano is just espresso and water.  Kind of harsh.  But if you add a little syrup, and then a sploosh of cream - it’s actually really good.  In a fully-leaded kind of way.  But good.

Since there aren’t a lot of fancy-schmancy ingredients, other than the espresso pretty much, the americano comes with a pretty decent price tag.  For all that, it only costs me $2.70 a day.  Compare that to what I used to get and you just add more than a dollar to the cost.  If I remember right the venti carmel mach comes to $4.30.  A day.

I started doing a little math this morning.  And I realized just how much the $2.70 a day adds up to over time.  In 30 days: $81.  60 days: $162.

So in roughly two months I will have spent over $150 on coffee.

Then I started thinking, $150 will pretty much cover half the cost of a flight from Houston to San Diego… or from San Diego to Houston.  Houston is where my “boyfriend” is now living.  San Diego is where he can fly into to visit me, even if it’s just for a weekend.

Every. Two. Months.

hmmmmmm.

I am SO giving up coffee.

I figured one was in order, given one of my recent posts, entered here on this very site under the influence of two very small but super-powerful margaritas made by yours truly.

This is off-topic but you know how some people are born with natural talents like singing or dancing or acting or cooking?

Mine is bartending.  Seriously.  Put some adult beverage ingredients in front of me and I will make you a drink so bright and inviting and friendly and then you will be seduced and drawn in by its fabulous tasting-ness and sip by sip by sip it will KICK. YOUR. ASS.  You will have such an ass-kicking buzz that by the time you realized you’re getting your ass kicked, but when the words of protest come out of your mouth they say, “Thank you for the lovely evening of ASS KICKING drunkedness, may I have another?”

It’s the reason I really need a 3 bedroom home, instead of just two.  Currently I can only offer the cold hard and oft-peed on bathroom floor (thanks to the male child in the house).

Where was I?  Oh. Right - my weight.

Ok, so remember when I posted this?

On May 21st, I did it.  A month later, I had lost about 15 pounds or so.  Since then, I haven’t been as diligent as I should be, so I am fluttering around the same weight, up 2 pounds, down 2 pounds, but never going down farther.  I am happy to say that I’m now fitting in to some of my smaller sized clothes, so that’s good.  I haven’t really been too good about weighing and measuring, because I know I’ve been doing everything else half-assed, and don’t want to bother to document it.

So.  I do have to say the 15 pounds is great!  I’d love to take off another 30.  1/3 of the way there!

Every day I plan to get back on track… and usually about 2/3 of the way through the day I end up fucking it all up.

I really want to buckle down, starting this week, because I would like to move forward with my progress rather than backwards.

That’s pretty much that.