time won't give me time.

i know it's been slow around here, but i've been pretty busy.  with the piercing-apprenticing, my 'regular' job, and getting ready for the holidays, i feel like i've been stretched pretty thin.  awesome husband's been cleaning the house for me.  seriously.  and then i got sick at christmas.  i was feeling eh christmas night and then was sick at work the next day.  today's my first day feeling normal again :(

and that was all while on break from school.  i'm more than a bit nervous about how i'll juggle everything when school is added back into the mix.

of course, i'm going to be piercing part time.  i'm just spending as much time at the shop as i can now so i can see and learn as much as possible.  so once i'm not spending what seems like every waking moment at the shop to learn, it should be easier.  i'm also probably going to bring my computer to the shop so i can do schoolwork while i'm there.  that should make a big difference.

today's the first time i've cleaned the bathroom in weeks.  i've been making awesome husband do it.  here's a snapshot of what my time has been like.

monday: wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-3pm.  do house stuff or school stuff until 6pm.  cook dinner.  spend time with awesome husband.  bed at 11pm.

tuesday: wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-3pm.  do house or school stuff until 6pm.  food shopping.  make dinner.  spend time with awesome husband.  bed at 11pm.

wednesday: wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm.  take care of randomly scheduled 'thing' (doctor's appointment, holiday shopping, other errand).  go to shop from 2ish until 8pm.  go home.  eat something.  hang out with awesome husband until bed at 11pm.

thursday: wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm.  do some household-y stuff.  go to shop from 2ish until 8pm.  go home.  eat something.  hang with awesome husband until bed at 11pm.

friday:  wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm.  fuck around online for an hour.  poke at the cats for a bit.  go to shop form 2 or 3ish until 10pm.  go home.  eat something.  go to bed at 11pm.

saturday:  wake up.  shower.  work at 'normal' job from 9-12pm.  squeeze in an hour of family time (either with awesome husband and the cats, awesome husband's family, whatever).  head to the shop from 2ish to 10pm.  go home.  eat something.  poke at the cats.  go to bed by 12am.

sunday:  SLEEP LATE (late being maybe 9am).  grab breakfast or early lunch with awesome husband.  head to shop around noonish until 6pm.  go home.  order sunday night pizza.  stare at the television blubbering until bedtime at 10pm.

lather, rinse, repeat.   as you can see, there is little to no room for cleaning the house, cooking appropriate meals, playing video games, reading, blogging, or seeing friends.  this gets my my 7-7.5 hours a night (i can't fall asleep right away) which i need or my medications make me like a zombie.  and when you look at it, i feel like a little bitch for complaining.  i'm doing 23, 24 hours for my 'normal' job and 35ish in the shop.  and it's not like i'm WORKING in the shop.  i watch a lot, i do a few piercings, i study, i play sudoku, i fuck around with the tattoo artists, i look up ideas for my next tattoos.  occasionally i vacuum and take out garbage.  but it's still a 'job'.  so i'm 'working' almost 60 hours a week in my mind. 

the last time i held a full time job (40 a week plus a bit of OT) i landed in the psych ward with a nervous breakdown.  so you can see my trepidation here.  it's terrifying, thinking that it might happen again.  yes, i have better medication this time.  yes, they're both less stressful jobs (you'd think that sticking needles through people is stressful - and you'd be right.  but the full time job that landed me in the nuthouse was in stocks and funds and shit.  and i don't like numbers) but there's SO MUCH OF THEM.  the time i do have free, i don't want to DO things aside from stare and blubber a bit.  maybe cuddle with awesome husband or go out to dinner. 

and then of course this week i was sick.  today's my first day out of the house really since monday.  and since i'm trying to catch up on my 'normal' job a bit, it means i'll be at the shop even less than i should be.  which just prolongs the process a bit; i need 1000 hours of time before i'm not like an apprentice any longer. 

and i'm learning a lot.  i feel pretty damn confident with most of the common piercings.  i'd like to see some of the less common ear piercings before doing them.  but i've already seen a lip, monroe, tongue, nostril, navel, and hood piercing (i was surprised that the woman let me watch, but thrilled that she did because seeing it done really made the written process make sense).  i've already done two nostrils (including awesome husband's), three navels, a helix (cartilage on the ear), a tongue, and a lip.  i almost botched one navel because there was so much scar tissue.  but luckily my mentor was there and rescued me.  he's been piercing for almost thirty years and has seen most of it - and if he hasn't seen it in person, he knows about it.  i'm lucky to be learning from someone like him.

i can always back off a bit too.  i mean, at this rate, i'd have my 1000 hours in about seven months.  which would be GREAT, but it's not a race.  i figure i'll keep plugging away like this until i've seen and performed most of the piercings, including ones i'm less confident about.  then maybe i can cut back a bit.  who knows, maybe i can take a day off every week!

---------------------------------

so tomorrow's new year's eve.  we don't have big plans - a quiet night at home, i'm sure.  we got a nifty fondue set for the holiday so we might cheese fondue it up.  because, yum.  i'll let you know how that turns out.

and as for our 'new car'?  still in the shop, waiting for an engine.  at this point, it's been in the shop longer than it's been in our possession since we bought it.  damn it all.  at least they finally got awesome husband a loaner car.

well, hello there.

it's been a while.  well, what... a week?  last we chatted i told you about my sisters and their soap-opera-y parental situation.

things have been hectic since then.  i haven't really 'announced' it or anything (even though i personally think it deserves announcing) but i've been asked to apprentice as a body piercer.  so yours truly will be jabbing needles through various pieces of flesh shortly.  i'm superexcited about it and think it's an awesome opportunity - and one that not everyone gets.  the piercer that's teaching me has been piercing for like 25 years, and is one of the best. 

but it's a hectic time of year to be adding to my schedule.  while i'm apprenticing, i basically want to be in the shop as much as i possibly can.  that way, i can see as many piercings as possible and learn as much as i can.  the shop is closed monday and tuesday.  so i have 20-23 hours a week for my at home facilitator job, 15ish hours a week for school, and then A LOT of time at the shop.  i try to get there wed-fri by 3pm and they're open until 8 on wed/thurs and 10 on friday.  and then like 2pm to 10pm on saturday.  and 12ish to 6 on sunday.

which adds up to... hmm...

a lot of hours.

thankfully i had much of my holiday shopping done and was able to finish up the rest online.  now i just have to wrap.

today we had first christmas at my inlaw's house.  part of the family cannot come to christmas on christmas so we had first christmas.  and we thought 4 kids were going to be there.  turns out our four nieces and nephews would be there too, and we were giving them their gifts too.  and OF COURSE i hadn't wrapped anything yet.

and we had to go pick up a loaner car first.  so it was hectic.  and i feel like i have no time to wrap presents.

the loaner car was because we bought a brand new car three weeks ago.  and it already needs a new engine.  i'm livid, but awesome husband (diesel mechanic extraordinaire) says this kind of stuff happens sometimes.  the dealership has had our brand new, less than 600 miles car for five days and still hadn't given us a loaner.  and awesome husband has to go away for school soon and i need a car here so i can, you know.  do things.  and the dealership kept fucking us around and pissing me off and whatever.  i love the new car, but i'm really a bit pissed at the dealership. 

i mean, they called us and were like 'we have a loaner now, come get it' so we go to get it (after wrapping the gifts).  and they make awesome husband wait like 20 minutes and then they say 'oh, we need to FIND THE CAR'.  like it was fucking lost?  YOU JUST TOLD US YOU HAD IT.

anyway.

on top of that, i seem to have pinched a nerve or something in my shoulder?  it hurts.  a lot.  it hurts to do almost anything.  and pills don't seem to help :/  hopefully that goes away soon.  i'm thinking i may now have a valid reason to schedule a massage for monday.

a funny old thing

one day, i'll get back to writing funny posts. 

it's not that funny stuff doesn't happen in my life any longer.  it's not that my sense of humor is drastically different.  it's just that i think about things differently, i guess. 

i had an excellent day today.  i woke up way too early and started working, only for a couple of hours.  then i showered and got ready to spend the day with reverend bobdad because my half sisters were competing (cheerleaders).  rev bobdad picked me up and we went to my first ex-stepmother's house (rev bobdad's second ex-wife.  yup.  we're counting).  we then went to the high school where the competition was being held and who is sitting in the bleachers but my ex-stepmother's sort-of husband who also happens to be the biological father of my half sisters.

yea, i know.  it's near impossible to follow.

let's try this again.

i have sisters.  twin sisters that are 15.  they were born when my dad was married to my first ex-stepmother, so they were my half sisters.  when they were 4 my first stepmother became my first EX-stepmother when she divorced my dad and quickly married her masseuse.  then when my half sisters were 8 we found out they WERE NOT my dad's children, but they were biologically the masseuse's children.  for all intents and purposes, though, they are my sisters.  we have the same dad ('dad' and 'sperm donor' are two different things), we have the same last name (i hyphenated), and they are - and will always be - my sisters.  there has been a lot of bad blood between their biological father and our rev bobdad (among other people).  the biological father-slash-masseuse is still legally married to my first ex-stepmother, but they no longer live in the same household.  my rev bobdad sees my sisters twice a week for dinner, and the biological father sees them a couple of times a month. 

if you're following, good for you.  i should write a book.

so we walk into the gym and there sits biological father-slash-asshole.  but he did save seats for ALL of us (my rev bobdad included) so that was something.  awkward, but something.

he did look me in the eye for a nanosecond when he said hello to me.  he did not look my rev bobdad in the eye.

then my rev bobdad went to get a drink, and brought back a bottle of water for each of us - including biological father-slash-asshole.  which was nice.  but they didn't, like, interact.

so we all watched my sisters perform.  and high school cheerleading competitions are a little bit like 'bring it on'.  but with no espn reporters.  and less people.  and blaque isn't there.

but, you know.  other than that, pretty much the same.

my sister's school didn't place, sadly.  but my rev bobdad, sisters, and i were all going to our favorite steakhouse afterward, so it would be okay.  right?

wrong. as soon as biological father-slash-asshole got wind of my rev bobdad doing something with the girls, he got all biological-parenty and was like, i'm taking the girls out.

so we let him have his fun and went back to first ex-stepmother's house to watch television and have a snack.  and my rev bobdad fixed her motion sensor light.  and bought stuff to recaulk one of the bathroom tubs.  and bought a new clothes hanging rod thingy for one of my sister's closets.

anyway.

then they came home and we hung out for a bit and then we went to our steakhouse.  and had some steak and some fun conversation.  i remember when they were younger and were almost afraid of me.  now we talk like adults.  i love them.

we also talked a bit about the whole situation.  about how they used to think it was normal to have two dads.  they call rev bobdad 'dad' or 'daddy' and biological father-slash-asshole 'papa'.  one of my sisters told me that when first ex-stepmother (their mother, follow along please) told her that papa was their biological father, and daddy was their dad, she didn't get it.  but that was years ago.  we get it now.

i really wanted to ask what they got.  my rev bobdad was no saint, let me tell you.  he drank himself out of his first marriage (to my mom) and couldn't keep his pants on.  but faith can do strange things to a man and after he was saved (he's a born again christian.  charismatic christian.  whatever you want to call it) rev bobdad was a bit of a new man.  he has 27 years sober and is a great dad to those girls.  he was a drunken fool to me, and mostly just a fool to my brother.  but a man lives and learns (so does a woman for that matter).  i really wanted to ask my sisters if they got that, while my rev bobdad was married to first ex-stepmother, she fucked her masseuse and got pregnant with them.

like, really wanted to know if they understood that.

which is wrong.  i mean, number 1: they're 15.  number 2: you can't know your own mother's a liar.  children need to be able to love and trust their parents.  if you are told your parent is wrong or bad, it can destroy you.

blood is not always thicker than water.  my aunt proved that to me in a negative way, and my sisters prove it to me time and time again in a positive way.  i am in no way related to them - we share no blood.  they are nothing to me.

but they are my sisters.  we talked a bit about that - how blood relatives aren't always the best.  i told them how their mother - who is nothing to me, relation-wise - was more supportive to me during my mother's passing than my aunt - who is a blood relation, my mother's sister - was.  they mentioned about wanting to take their biological father-slash-asshole's name because it matches their nationalities, and i told them my last name is italian even though i'm irish, english, german, and scottish because i took my husband's last name.  names don't mean anything either.  it's not the people who share your name or your blood who are your family - it's the people who love and support you.

i think they understand it.  i think they know what their mother did, and how my rev bobdad, awesome husband, my brother, and i are NOTHING to them - nothing.  we only share a name because my father's last name is still on the birth certificates.  i think they understand more than anyone gives them credit for.  and i think they are the strongest girls i know for it. 

sunday night

my mom passed away a year ago yesterday.  i spent the night at one of my family's favorite restaurants with family members who have supported my brother, awesome husband, my father, and i since my mother's passing.  it was nice to have something fun and positive to look forward to instead of focusing on her death all day.

anyone who reads my blog may have seen a comment from my cousin on my last blog, posted on the anniversary of my mother's death.  i'm glad i didn't read it yesterday because it probably would have ruined my day.

the saying goes there are three sides to every story: yours, mine, and the truth.  this story has, like, seven fucking sides, for real.  obviously one side is the truth.  but then there's my aunt's side, her daughter's side as perceived through what her mother told her and what she witnessed.  then there's my mother's side, and my side based on what mom told me and what i witnessed.  then my brother's side based on what mom told him and what he witnessed.  and my husband's side, and my father's side, and my uncle's side.... you get the drift.

i know what i know based on long discussions with my mother, the emails my mom showed me, the emails my brother and i sent back and forth with my aunt, and facts my mother, father, and other family members have corroborated.  that is my truth.

that is all i can live in: my truth.  i can't live in someone else's truth, i can't force myself to have feelings i don't have any more than i can force my eyes to change color. 

my mother was my best friend.

i used to just think about losing her and i'd get hysterical.  i never thought i'd be able to live without her - literally, i figured i'd have to kill myself once she died because i'd have no way to go on.  she was my best friend and there was nothing we didn't talk about.

my mother was my best friend and i still don't know if i can get over her death.  and over the last year, all i've wanted is to surround myself with people who love and support me.  once people show hate, disrespect, or do whatever the opposite of supporting me is - i cannot allow them to have that kind of affect on my life.

my mother was my best friend, and today is the 366th day i've lived without her.  and to me, that's a fucking accomplishment.

i miss you mom.

mom and i on our cruise, november 2008

part six

after delivering the news to mom's brother and sister in new york, we went to my dad's brother's house for thanksgiving dinner.  much drinking was done.  we talked about mom and life and stuff.

i had been playing a strange version of phone-and-internet tag with my mom's older sister in california.  they had been close years ago but had not spoken in some months.  when mom was first in the hospital, i posted it on facebook and tried to call my aunt with no answer because i had the wrong number.  i tried to get her to email me and all she did was email me her number.  so i tried to call her and left her a message.  mom had been in the hospital for five days already and her sister finally called me back around 10pm on thanksgiving night.

a bit of background here.  no one else in the family really spoke to this aunt.  my mother's other sister and brother had their own issues with this aunt that i don't have anything to do with.  my mom, my brother, and i had always maintained a relationship with this aunt and my cousin in california.  i used to spend summers out there to hang out with my cousin (she's only six months younger than me).  my mom and this sister were close and not close over periods of their lives.  this sister was not always nice to my mom, and we'll just leave it at that for now.  but seriously - NOT NICE.  my mom had spent a year living in california with my aunt and uncle.  there are many reasons why she came back to florida, which again i won't get in to here.

still in background phase, my aunt and mother had a bit of a falling out in the spring of 2010.  we all worked from home with the same company.  i ended up starting my own company to save money (it's long and confusing, don't make me explain it.  the company we worked under took a percentage of our pay, i didn't do that in my company).  i was able to add my mother to my company as vice president and save her money too.  i told the president of our old company i was leaving, then mom told them she was leaving.  and the president of the old company contacted my aunt like 'are you leaving too?' this set my aunt off for some reason.  she emailed my mother saying she was hurt that my mom didn't tell her about this, my mom wanted to call her because she doesn't like email, my aunt refused to take her calls.  the emails went back and forth and back for weeks.  the end of it was that my mother apologized, my aunt wouldn't accept it, and my mother decided she was not going to engage my aunt any longer.  my mother decided my aunt was toxic (the same conclusion her other sister and brother had come to) and stopped talking to her.  the only contact they had after that was when my mom didn't show up online to work for a few days, my aunt emailed her to make sure she was okay.  my mom responded that she was, and that was that.  when we decided we were moving back to new york, my mom sent her a quick email to let her know and my aunt did not reply.

fast forward back to mom in ICU.  mom did not want us to tell this aunt that she was in the hospital.  mom did not want us contacting this aunt.  mom did not want this aunt to come or call or anything.  my mom's friend and i convinced her that we should let this aunt know - i mean, they were sisters.  so i had tried to contact her.

and on thanksgiving night, she finally called me back.  it was after 10pm EST and we were done with dessert. i had had a couple of drinks and we were all sitting around the table, just bullshitting, when my phone rang.  i took it into one of the bedrooms to have some privacy.

i told my aunt that my mother had stage IV metastatic lung cancer that had invaded her spleen, liver, and brain.  i told my aunt that my mother had been sleeping for a day and that they told me not to bother flying back to florida.  i told my aunt that my mother was dying.

my aunt told me that she 'doesn't do funerals'.

there was more to the conversation: my aunt telling me that my mother would only want comfort care, my aunt telling me that she knew what my mother wanted, my aunt telling me that she talked to my mother about this, my aunt telling me that she knew my mother best.

i didn't really register most of it past 'i'm not coming out because i don't do funerals'.

she never asked how WE were doing, my brother and i.  she never asked if WE NEEDED HER.  she only told me that she knew what my mother wanted, she only tried to make me feel like i wasn't doing what was right.  she told me to tell my mother 'if she wants me, i'm here but if not, then go with god'.

my mother was lying in ICU, dying at 56.  i was 30 years old, on thanksgiving night, having just told my mother's entire living family that my mother was dying.  and my fucking aunt told me 'i don't do funerals' and 'if your mother wants me, i'm here, but if not, then go with god'.

i never told my mother that we called this aunt.  i didn't want to upset her.

i have always tried to live by a motto of sorts: no remorse, no regret.  what's done is done and we cannot change it.  but if there is anything in this life that i might regret, it's answering the fucking phone that thanksgiving night and engaging my aunt.  because this started months - MONTHS - of bullshit back and forth between this aunt, myself, and my brother.  this begun MONTHS of fighting over money and possessions, MONTHS of this aunt holding money over my brother's and my heads to try and get things that she wanted that were my mothers.

i took a long time thinking about this post and trying to figure out what to write.  i know some family members read my blog.  and my blog is semi-anonymous, so anyone can read it and if they know me, they know who i'm talking about.  including this aunt or her daughter, my cousin, whom i've tried to maintain a relationship with.

thankfully, after i got off the phone with this aunt my other aunt (dad's sis-in-law) had a large bottle of bailey's for us to enjoy.  and enjoy it we did.


i was glad awesome husband had flown up thanksgiving morning.  we stayed at his parents house, and i cannot express in words what it meant to have him holding me that night.

black friday was the next day.  usually i'd go to the mall to make fun of people shopping, or do a teeny bit of my own shopping.  instead i spent the day at the hospital - the last full day we'd be at the hospital.  because mom was going to be moved to the palliative care unit and then, hopefully, they'd have a bed for her at a local hospice.

cleaning out my life

i keep looking at this bag in my bedroom.  it's like half full of clothes and shit that awesome husband and i need to get rid of.  and we just leave it there.  open.  because we keep meaning to go through our drawers and the closet and what not and get rid of more shit.  because, you know.  we have a lot of shit.

in one drawer there's this pair of jeans that i love.  something about the way they're cut, the flares are really neat, whatever it is.  i just love how they fit.  but they don't fit me 'right' anymore.  they used to but now they don't.  they don't respect me the way i am.

same for some people.  someone i considered one of my best friends posted some picture about moving back to florida on facebook with a countdown.  like happy her and her husband are moving back to florida.  and neither of them said anything to awesome husband or me.  even though we like texted back and forth a couple of weeks ago.  you don't decide to move shortways across the country in like a few days.  so OBVIOUSLY they had decided well before then, like they knew the last time i spoke to them.

when we all lived in florida, they were scared to tell us they were moving back to new york because they thought we'd be mad.  i love these people like family and told them like, yah i'll miss you and i'm sad you're leaving but i'm so excited that you're making a move that's better for your family. 

when we decide we were moving back to new york, mom and awesome husband and me, i didn't say ANYTHING about it on facebook or anything like that until i told my best friend in person.  i would have loved to start networking and sharing my news right away, but i needed to be sure that i told my bestie before the general public knew.

it was the right thing for me to do.

but these friends, this couple that i thought of as family, just posted this shit and left it.  didn't say anything to me, didn't bother to call or text or anything.  flat out disrespectful.  you tell me you think of me as fucking family?  treat me like family.  don't disrespect me.

it's like those jeans.  i love them, but they got to go.  i can't keep things - or people - in my life who disrespect me.  i've spent way too long learning how to love myself for who i am, i can't let people treat me like that.

did i lash out on facebook?  i sure as fuck did.  is that immature or whatever?  yeah i bet it is.  is it disrespectful?  YES IT IS.  when people treat my badly, i don't sink to their level.  like when someone cuts me off in traffic, i don't have to get them back - i let it go.  when someone flat out disrespects me?  i have to let them know.

did i overreact?  yeah, maybe.  but you know it's better to learn what someone truly thinks of you before it's too late.

so awesome husband and i should probably get to that bag of clothes soon.  'that which is temporal will be cut away'.

---------------------------------------------------------

in other news, we're shopping for a new car.  i was offered an opportunity i can't pass up and we need a second car asap so i can take advantage of it.  we're hoping to go test driving or whatever over the next couple of days.  exciting, for sure.  i'll be busy enough this week with black friday coming up.  working in sales/retail does that to you.

a year ago tomorrow we found out mom had cancer.  ultimately, still just counting days.  it's not just counting those days that mark when mom passed, or marking the days i've had without her.  it's about the days i have left.  life is short.  days pass in what seem like hours, weeks fly by.  it was just the middle of summer and i was sweating in the backyard, now it's about to be winter and the holiday season is here again. 

life is to short to put up with people mistreating you.  i refuse to let people or jeans treat me without respect. 

at least i'm washing my hair every other day.

so i'm having a bit of a rough week.  i just keep feeling like i can't get going.  i don't really want to get out of bed, i don't really want to get in the shower, i don't really want to eat anything, i don't really want to work.  i kind of want to snuggle down with cats and just watch movies or read or something.  when i do get out of bed, i don't want to exercise or do my yoga.  when i do get in the shower, i can't be bothered to wash my hair.  when i do eat, i don't want to have to make anything.

i'm not sure what's changed.  i'm performing well at work, i'm doing well in this class block.  awesome husband and i are making decent money, we just booked a trip to disney world in january.

like, i know it's that time of year.  a year ago yesterday was mom's first day at the new job in new york.  i guess because i didn't go through it last year, i didn't know what to expect.  last year i was planning steph gas, making sure shit was getting done.  even after mom passed, i went home to florida, got caught up with my shit, and flew back to new york for the holiday (and got stranded by a blizzard).  but i was still planning, planning, planning, just making sure things that needed to get done were getting done.

is this what it's supposed to be like?

my brother and i have often talked about grief.  have we really grieved?  we both talk about waiting for the other shoe to drop, worried that one day we'll just lose it.  one of the bereavement counselors i spoke with said it's likely that my brother and i started grieving once we heard the words 'metastatic lung cancer'.  that's very possible.

mom was always up front about life and death.  we were never taught to feel bad for people when they died, but happy that they were in a better place.  it was okay for us to be sad because we missed them, but people die.  it's a natural part of life.  mom wouldn't want us to be sad and cry and focus on the time we're missing with her, but to be happy and focus on the time we had with her.  not to think about the fact that she won't see awesome husband and i celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary or be with taylor (the old deaf cat) when he eventually dies, but to remember that she was there at our wedding and took care of taylor when he was sick.

and i feel like i think about that.  i don't think about the time i'm not going to have with my mom, but the time i did have with my mom.  i don't sit around sad about mom or pitying myself that my mom is gone, or expecting others to pity me because my mom is dead.  i don't feel like i focus on this, that it's always in my mind and affecting everything i do day to day.

but here i am, approaching the one year anniversary of my mother's death, and i just don't want to fucking live.  not that i'm suicidal (been there, done that) but that i don't want to participate.

i'm alive, but i'm not living.

-----------------------------------------------------------

my brother, awesome husband, and i are planning a dinner at our family's favorite steakhouse for the anniversary.  after my step father passed away in 2003, my mom and dad became good friends again.  he'd come over for dinner (usually at my insistence) and i even orchestrated our first - and only - real family vacation with our biological mom and dad together.  mom, dad, awesome husband, my brother, and myself all went to disney world in 2006.  my parents ended up becoming good friends again and mom would often come with us to this steakhouse my dad had discovered with his second ex-wife.  (um, wait.  i mean 'second wife', right?  hmm.  second ex-wife seems more appropriate for dad).  my mom and dad even went out to dinner without us kids sometimes, and my mom was staying with my dad when she first moved back to new york.  it was just temporary, but still.

after my step dad died, christmas morning became a new thing.  we'd wake up early and make dad come to our house ('our' - mom, my brother, awesome husband, me).  i'd make breakfast and we'd go through our stockings (we always put strange stuff in there) and open gifts.  last year was the first year without mom.  we did christmas morning at my dad's house.  it was strange.  i'm currently planning on having christmas morning here and making my dad come over.  but then i think about starting new traditions.  is that part of grieving?  maybe if we make new traditions, instead of trying to carry on the old ones that included mom, it will make this time of year easier.

but maybe it's not about staying away from things that used to include mom.  maybe it's about continuing to do those things in spite of the fact that mom's not here anymore.

laziness.

among other things.  it's been a solid month since i took an unintended sabbatical from my blog.  i can make you excuses, if you'd like.

• i've been busy with school.  maintaining a 3.75 GPA while taking algebra isn't easy.
• i've been busy with work.  my new position really started the last week in september and i've been kicking into high gear to get my merry band of ruffians up to snuff for my client.
• i've been busy not living.  you know, hanging out watching cartoons and going out to eat with awesome husband once a week.  or twice.
• i've been busy shopping.  yes, i've shopped a few times.  there are numerous new shirts and a coach bag that attest to that.

but i won't give you all of those excuses.  what i can give you is the fucking truth.

i just didn't have it in me. 

working with a retail company forces you to count the days until black friday, which means you are actually counting the days until thanksgiving, the last day that you can not worry as much about bottom lines and sales and shit like that.  once black friday rolls out, you will be eating, drinking, breathing, and sleeping your sales numbers. 

do you know why it's called black friday?  it ended up being a huge shopping day and would get many companies out of the red and into the black.  you accounting nuts may know that being 'in the red' means you're using red ink in your accounting ledger because you fucks are OUT OF MONEY.  your company is spending more than it makes.  so on black friday, everyone stumbles out of their tryptophan-induced stupor and shops, spending more money than they should, to get your company out of the red and into the BLACK.  so you can use black ink in your ledger.  meaning PROFIT yo.

so here i am, counting the days down until thanksgiving.  you may realize that the last entry (part five) in my story about mom's passing ended on thanksgiving day.  i think i finally have the balls to write part six.  some of my family members read this blog (it's semi-anonymous - i post it on my facebook so people i know IRL can read my blog, but the rest of you don't REALLY know who i am) and this story may upset or piss off some of them. 

but in counting the days to thanksgiving, i realize i'm counting the days to the anniversary of my mother's death.  december 3rd will mark one year without my mom.  a lot has changed, a lot has stayed the same.  in some way, i feel like my mom dying has made me an adult.  i know before her passing, i had bills and a mortgage and a car payment and a husband and what not.  but something is just different.  planning your parent's funeral at 30 is really annoying.  having to write all the thank you notes, deal with death certificates and hospital crap, it all sucks.  having to go through everything. it's hard some days.

my dad's parents passed away within a year of each other.  my grandma passed suddenly in october 2000, and my grandfather in august 2001.  i remember going through a lot of their things with my dad.  he and my uncle divvied up the furniture, selling some of it.  they went through all the beleek china, with my brother and i calling out our favorites.  that was a funny day.  they don't give a crap about beleek, i'm telling you.  so my dad and uncle laid out all the beleek on the big dining room table and would hold up two comparable pieces - like two cup and saucer sets.  and say 'well, which do you want?'  then they'd pick up a like a decorative owl and a vase of a similar size. 

at one point, though, my dad just started throwing shit out.  boxes of photographs.  almost all of my grandmother's costume jewelry.  we let a plant that had been growing for over 50 years die.  my father took his father's passing hard.  he still hasn't had the grave marker engraved with my grandpa's date of death.  it's been ten years.  and my dad was 50 at the time.

if losing your parent at 50 is hard, it must be harder at 30 right?

but then i think about my mom.  she was 10 - TEN - when her mom died.  i was lucky - fucking lucky - to have my mom for twenty years more than she had her mom.  my mom was able to take me shopping for a bra.  my mom was able to talk to me about sex.  my mom was able to meet one of the first boys that took me on a proper date and drove a car.  my mom was able to come see the plays and musicals i worked on, come to my art exhibits at school.  my mom was able to watch me graduate high school.  my mom was able to watch me walk down the aisle to marry the closest thing to a soul mate anyone could ask for.

so instead of just counting down the days to black friday, to thanksgiving, to the day my mother died, i'm trying to count the days i had with her. 


--------------------------------------------------------


i'm hoping to start actually blogging again now.  i didn't mean to not blog, i just got kind of introspective, i guess.  as well as not drinking.

yes, you read that right.  i haven't had a drink in over a month.  i forgot to start counting, but i know for certain i haven't had a drink since before october 1.  so i'm using that as my sober date.  who knows how long it will last though?  because i really, really want a drink.  i feel kind of lame though, being so OMGIDON'TDODRUGSANDHAVEBEENCLEANFORALMOSTTENYEARS and saying it with a margarita in my hand.

we'll see.

ch-ch-ch-changes. but not really.

i still haven't gone to an al-anon meeting.  i keep saying i will.  i know i should.  but i keep finding other things to do.  i mean, we only have one car so i can only go after awesome husband gets home from work.  and after we eat dinner.  and what not.  and i'm mostly lazy.

and i failed another math test.  i sincerely hate algebra.  with a burning passion.  i'm still pulling a 94 in the class.  somehow.  still hate the shit out of it.

i still haven't found a face-cleaning regimen that doesn't make my acne worse.  i don't get why i'm 31 with fucking acne.  shouldn't i be worrying about wrinkles and retinol, not acne and salicylic acid??  oh, and i finally started taking my birth control pills last month since my uterus and ovaries despise me.  bleeding from my vagina for 13 months straight?  my reproductive organs have done it to me.  not having my period for 11 months with NO MEDICAL EXPLANATION? they've pulled that shit on me too.  anywhere from 45 to 150 days between 'periods' that last from one day to eleven days?  that's NORMAL for me.  so i finally asked for birth control pills, the ones where you only get your period every 90 days.

i've been taking them for 31 days.  guess what just happened.

yes. i got my period.  WHAT. THE. FUCK.  i don't even know the fucking logistics of this shit.  i'm so angry i don't even know if i'm typing english at this point.

i was mostly worried that the shift in my hormones would make me extra batshit crazy.  it has not.  and the pristiq is still delicious.

of course, i decided i should go back to therapy and started playing the 'let's call therapists and find one that specializes in shit i need and is taking new patients and actually calls me back' game.

i have NO PROSPECTS after a week of playing that game.

but this weekend is my anniversary, awesome husband and i will have been married seven years.  he's planning some kind of dinner and museum thing in the city.  i keep trying to figure out where he's taking me.  i know i mentioned daniel a couple of weeks ago because they have a prix fixe at $195 a person which is A LOT but i mean, hi - it's DANIEL.  and then there's bobby flay's bar americain, which he knows i've wanted to go to for a long time.  other than that, i have no ideas. 

in other news: i'm abusing my slow cooker.  i've been making black beans and rice, and middle eastern spiced stews.  i also found all the stuff i need to make sushi.  i have the bamboo mat rolly thingy, and a sushi rice paddle.  sesame seeds (regular and black), sriracha sauce, rice vinegar.  now i just need to actually make sushi rice and decide what i'm putting in it.  i'm thinking of starting easy with some kind of vegetable rolls and spicy tuna rolls.  i'm excited to try though.

other than that, just a normal fall in new york.  it's nice to be back, but i forgot how cold it gets at night.  i have to remember to close the windows.  and i have to call and get oil delivered.  which is expensive and annoying.

oh, and i'm working on my next tattoo!  awesome husband's sleeve is just about done - expect photos soon.  and mine should be done on the 15th.  maybe i'll do an entire post with just photos of our new ink :)

terrifying things

things are just not always 'right'.  i have a new job (well, it's similar to my old jobs, but it's better), i'm doing well in school, i have a great family.  we make enough money to pay the bills and enjoy a dinner out now and then.  i'm planning a family cruise this spring to scatter my mom's ashes.  i have four ridiculously amazing cats.

but still.  there are times when i NEED the tarzipan.  when things just aren't right and i don't know why.  when i get aggravated at someone or something and feel like i want to rip my hair out - literally, not figuratively.  when i WANT to be active in my addictions: i WANT to cut myself.  i WANT to find drugs to use.  i WANT to eat the entire bottle of tarzipan and not wake up.  ever.

i'm back on *another* diet/lifestyle change/whateverthefuckyouwanttocallit.  i'm using a new online tracking tool and tracking my calories in and exercise (which still isn't much).  to be perfectly honest with you all, my devoted readers, i am considered 'morbidly obese'. 

yes. even though i can walk in 4.5" heels and a size 20/22, i'm morbidly obese.  morbidly obese means 'fat enough that you about to die, bitch'.

and yet, my blood pressure is almost perfect - 122/80 at almost all times, a little lower in the early mornings and a little higher at the gynecologist because i get really nervous there.  my cholesterol is a bit high, but it's always been so - even when i was 5'7", 135 pounds and my doctor told me i could stand to hold a few more pounds on my frame.  i laughed at him. 

awesome husband turned into a kind of fit freak after mom died.  he works out 4-5 days a week, at least an hour at a time.  he watches what he eats (mostly) and takes all these pre work out/post work out shakes.  which i don't agree with in theory, but he's gained like 22 pounds.  yeah - he was trying to GAIN weight.  he always had that worn-in heroin addict chic look.

now his chest measurement is the same as mine: 42".

so awesome husband is 'lovingly concerned' about my weight and health.  that's what i keep reminding myself, not that he's going to leave me for a younger/fitter model.  not that he is embarrassed to be seen with me in public.  not that he is disgusted with and turned off by my body.

but that he doesn't want me to die young like my mom did.  56 is kind of young to die.  that's only 25 more years for me.  that would mean my life is half over.

and the problem is i'm okay with that.  i never thought i'd live to 30, and i'm 31 now.  so i figure i'm already on borrowed time.  i'd rather be fat and happy than skinny and miserable.

but the problem is that i'm never going to be skinny, miserable or otherwise.  my doctors have always told me that 150 is a good goal to shoot for.  i still haven't told you all how much i weigh because it's kind of annoying.  and i don't think i look like i weigh that much, so i think something is lying to me.  i think i have, like, dense, heavy bones because there is no way that i wear the same size clothing i did at 24 and weigh 50 more pounds than i did then.  the only thing that's changed is the size of my bra, really.  when we got married, i was buying clothes that engulfed me in a size 24 or 26 because i figured hiding myself would hide my fat.  then i discovered that wearing the right sizes - 20/22 depending where i was shopping - actually made me look more normal. 

now i'm on this diety thing.  again.  and i know i'll lose maybe 45, 50 pounds (like i have before) and hit a plateau.  i gained most of it back after i quit smoking and my mom died (about 20 pounds from quitting smoking, 15ish more after mom died.  which i think is good, considering).  so this time, losing that 50 pounds will get me a bit 'closer to goal' as it were, but i'll still have A LOT of weight to lose.  which is why i'm actually considering surgery for the first time ever.  but that's early stages still.  i figure i'll stick on this diet for a bit and see what happens.

so the whole lifestyle change thing pisses me off, just on principle.  i want to eat an entire bowl of buttery popcorn while reading a book, but i can't.  actually, i can have like 5 cups of air popped popcorn with 1tbsp of butter and it's not as bad for me as you'd think.  popcorn is low-fat and high-fiber.  but in addition to all this shit, i'm considering going to al-anon.  which is like alcoholics anonymous for the alcoholic's family members.  my dad is a recovering alcoholic with like 26 years sober and my step-father was an abusive alcoholic.  the al-anon website has all this info about if you think al-anon would help you.  here are a few of the questions they ask you to consider to see if al-anon is right for you:

• did you grow up with a problem drinker?
• do you constantly seek approval and affirmation?
• do you fail to recognize your accomplishments?
• have you had problems with your own compulsive behavior?
• are you uneasy when your life is going smoothly, continually anticipating problems?
• do you feel alive in the midst of crisis?
• do you still feel responsible for others, as you did for the problem drinker in your life?
• do you isolate yourself from other people?
• do you cling to relationships because you are afraid of being alone?
• do you often mistrust your own feelings and the feelings of others?

those are just a few that i was like 'OMG WERE THEY IN MY HEAD WHILE WRITING THIS LIST????'

so i'm going to be going to my first al-anon meeting soon.  i keep putting it off because i'm nervous and scared and isolating myself and don't really want to go alone.

now i think i may go eat an entire bowl of (semi-)buttery popcorn and watch a movie.  or nap.  either way.

bad blogger. bad, bad blogger.

sorry y'all.  it's been a busy, busy week.

i've started a new position with the company that subcontracts me and we were training/certifying new people all week.  i barely slept thursday and friday for scoring things.

ugh.  thank goddess for diet coke and coconut ices.

anyway.  i hope to get back on the wagon, as it were.  i'm having some personal-y shit going on and have been contemplating some more serious stuff than i usually do.  i've been thinking about going to al-anon to try and deal with my father and step-father's alcoholism and how i was affected.  i'm also back on the diet/exercise train tomorrow because i don't have to wake up early for class for the first time in a month. 

so some new things.  life is changing.

why do these things exist?

this is a copy of the live-facebook-status-updating i did tonight.  i have deleted part of my name because i try to keep this blog semi-anonymous.  so, you know, if i ever actually get a real job, my potential employers will not find this blog by googling me.  and other's names and faces have been changed because, well, you know. 

and this is serious - this was not for fun or anything like that.  there was a motherfucking earwig in my motherfucking living room.  awesome husband and my brother went to yankee stadium to see the big 4 concert (anthrax, stupid fucking megadeth, slayer, and metallica).  so i was, in fact, home alone.

at this point, the damned earwig resurfaced from under the couch.  and yes, i had moved my fucking sectional away from the walls - and back to where it belonged - and nearly had a coronary doing so.

victory was mine!

so i killed the damn earwig.  i then got eight paper towels and a plastic bag and disposed of it.

it then occurred to me that my cats fucking FAILED because, hello, shouldn't they be chasing/hunting/killing these types of things? really?

this is only the second time in my entire life i've killed an earwig.  the first time i remember seeing one, i must have been 3 or 4.  i asked my mom why they were called earwigs and she said it was because they crawled into warm places like ears.

which i know now is untrue.  they're called earwigs because when their wings are open, they kind of look like a human ear.

you didn't know they flew either, did you?  staring to see why i'm so terrified?

anyway, even at the tender age of 3 or 4, i could think of OTHER warm places on my body that an earwig may like.  and thus began my paralyzing fear of earwigs.

when i was 25, awesome husband and i had been married for a few months and were living communally with my mom and my brother (incidentally, only about four blocks from where we live now).  we had the best rottweiler named nibbler.  she was such a sweetie.  and she helped me kill my first earwig.  we were home alone - i had been in a car accident and was basically home bound and nibbler had lymphoma and was dying (i know, buzzkill) so i spoiled her rotten.  we even took naps in my bed together.  i saw her watching something on the kitchen floor - an earwig.  we were home alone.  i freaked out while she stood next to me and watched it move across the floor.  nibbler stood right next to me as i grabbed a fistful of paper towels, tossed the wad on top of the earwig, and then proceeded to jump up and down on it like a fucking idiot. 

i wouldn't have been able to do it without her.

but seriously, what is up with earwigs?  what is their purpose?  what's with the pincers?  because they are scary.  and what's with scorpions?   why the FUCK do they need lobster claw pincers AND a stingery tail bit?? i mean, can we say OVERKILL?? and what do they do?  bees help pollinate things, and spiders eat other bugs... you know, there have a purpose.

earwigs and scorpions?  none that i know of.  if any of my sciencey friends can find purposes for me, please share them

not that i'll hate the fucking things any less.  but still.

memories

ten years ago, the world changed.

i have a lot to say about this.  i'm a new yorker and i remember that day like it was yesterday. 

you know what else i remember?  the first anniversary.  i was working for a major international company and our office building had four moments of silence that morning. 

during one, the printer went off.  it was silent - you could have heard a pin drop - and a huge, industrial-strength printer just starts printing off a report.

and i cried at that moment, not just from sadness at all that was lost - but joy at all that was to come.

in the midst of grief, sadness, tragedy - life goes on.

reports needed to be run.  they needed to be printed.  were we changing the world?  not so much.  but it went on.  i remembered that for the second anniversary, and the third one.  we still observed moments of silence.  in other states, in other places, september 11 is just another day at work.  people remember it because of the news coverage.  in new york, in dc, and in households around the world with an empty seat at the table, it's not just another day.  it's a day where we look to the sky, and remember how it was just as blue and clear on that morning.  it's a day where we look toward manhattan island and remember how we could see the plume of smoke for months after the attack.  it's a day where we go about our lives as changed people.

remember that earthquake in dc a couple of weeks ago, how everyone on the east coast was freaked out - but no one more than dc'ers and new yorkers?  that's why.  when we feel buildings shake, we do not think 'earthquake'.  we think 'terrorists'.  all those west coast bitches who were calling us pussies?  yeah. 

but we go on, still.  we take our shoes off at the airport without complaining, we don't love the TSA's rules but we understand them.  we have seen what can happen - we have seen it with our own eyes, smelled it, witnessed the gaping hole in the skyline, the gaping hole that was in the ground.  we have watched bodies pulled from the rubble covered in american flags, we have looked worriedly to the sky when we hear a low-flying plane.  we have spoken to friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, who have lost someone there, rescued someone there, recovered someone there, or helped clean up the pit.  we have seen the things the media won't show you, and felt the things the media cannot describe.

but we go on, still.  we do what we can every day to go on, pushing the fear down and keeping our eyes on the sky, on the lookout for that stray bag that might have been left behind.  we go food shopping, we work, we sleep, we love our families and life goes on.

life will never go on for some.  ten years ago today, 343 FDNY lost their lives trying to save others.  23 NYPD officers died doing their duty.  37 PAPD officers were killed.  cantor fitzgerald - one company - lost 658 employees. 

guiliani attended 200 funerals in 2001.  98 FDNY vehicles were destroyed.  115 nations were represented by lost people in the attacks. 1,506, 124 tons of debris were removed from ground zero.  i'm going to type that out: ONE MILLION, FIVE HUNDRED SIX THOUSAND, ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY FOUR TONS

new yorkers are not as crass as we're painted to be.  36,000 pints of blood were donated in the days following the attack.  258 were used.  289 bodies were recovered intact.  19,858 body parts were found.  1,717 families have no remains from their loved ones.  1,609 people lost a partner.  3,051 children lost a parent.

it's estimated that over 400,000 new yorkers suffer from 9/11 related PTSD.

i'll repost what i posted this morning on my facebook, after i observed the digital moments of silence along with countless others. 


"we remember this day every year, but really we should remember it every day. instead of hating our differences and killing others because of them, we should celebrate them and love each other. there is no god-figure that encourages killing or hatred, there is no religion that condones killing those with differing beliefs.

there is no reason the twin towers had to fall, no reason the pentagon had to have a gaping hole in the side, no reason for a patch of scorched earth in shanksville.

and if we need to find a reason for these evils, let it be this: love each other. take care of each other.

let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me."

new shooz?

wasn't new shooz an 80s band?  had a song called 'i can't wait'.  or am i mixing them up with someone else?

anyway.  i got new shoes a couple of weeks ago and VOWED that i would wear them somewhere last friday.  instead of planning ahead and trying to like get a group of people together to go someplace neat i could show off my shoes, i procrastinated and asked my dad to go out to dinner with us last minute.  on thursday he said 'yes'.  on friday he changed his mind and was like 'i got caught up with shit at work so i can't do it tonight.  tomorrow?' and i was sad.

for a minute.  then i put on comfy pants (my brother was home, otherwise i would have been pantsless) and we ordered pizza.  so it ended up being okay.

so saturday night i wrangled my dad into taking us out to dinner at our favorite steakhouse.  we chipped in, obvs, but he had a gift certificate he was willing to share.  i had a margarita and a couple of mojitos and steak and baked clams and it was delicious.  as always.  we took our after dinner drinks outside so dad could smoke a cigar and just chat.  and i looked GOOD.

my new shoes.  it's hard to see, but the hell and the platform are covered in like glitter.

awesome husband sitting outside enjoying his irish coffee

me looking AWESOME. if not a bit top heavy.

then sunday awesome husband and my brother did some yardwork while i did some homework.  we also did some shopping at BJs and purchased our usual HUGE package of string cheese.  i had a pedicure at a salon that was showing star wars - sadly, the pedicure was worth every cent i paid for it - only $14.  i will not be going back there.

of course, i was thrilled to see that they used their autoclave.  one of the last places i went to didn't.  it was the second or third time i was there and i was having my manicure.  and behind my manicurist were the two autoclaves.  i thought it was odd that neither appeared to be on, but one didn't have a light on the front so i figured that one was on and the other was off because... well, maybe they only needed one at a time?  THEN i noticed that NEITHER MACHINE WAS EVEN PLUGGED IN.  and i saw two of the manicurists put their little box of tools in there and take it back out.  like they were PRETENDING to sterilize shit.

so i stopped going there.  anyway, i had my pedi and then i decided i needed to have mojitos.  apparently EVERY liquor store in the area closes at 5pm on sundays.  we finally found one place that drastically overcharged for bacardi but, whatever, i got my mojito on.  i tried to make one with truvia and it wasn't quite the same.  i might try again to see if i mess with the ratios it will be better. 

and now it's time to go to KFC.  awesome husband just decided he needs popcorn chicken and mashed potatoes.  i suppose i can be talked into a biscuit or two.  we're spending our labor day watching 'star wars' and drinking.  good thing we've not started drinking yet so we can drive to KFC.

why do twizzlers have an expiration date?

i really do try to be positive.  posi-this, posi-that.  i try to focus on the positive and practice gratitude and shit like that.  i do.

but it's usually pretty hard.  i mean, i have pills.  they do help.  i've never felt more 'normal' than this past year.  the pristiq really seems to have made a difference.

what the fuck does that say about me?  the most 'normal' year of my life includes my mother dying and moving back to new york?  really?

so i accepted a new position with another client with arise.  it's a client i used to work with, last year in fact, and they asked me to come back in a facilitator capacity.  which is really awesome - i really believe in this client's product and know i will be an integral part of the team.  it's another 20+ hours a week.  on top of the 20+ for my current client.  on top of school full-time.  and if any of you really think that online school is not 'full-time' i challenge you to my schedule.  i only take two classes at a time, but they're only nine weeks long.  i easily put 20 hours a week into my classwork, if not more.  figure i have 16ish hours a day that i'm awake.  80 hours a week (fuck you, the weekends are mine) and 60 are scheduled for school/work.  4 hours a day for showering, taking care of the house, taking care of myself, and spending time with awesome husband. 

that is not enough.  i'm fucking batshit crazy and i need time for me.  there have been times when i can't take a damn shower without awesome husband forcing me to.  i need time to sit on the couch and stare at a cat.  or watch 'twilight' without awesome husband.  or read.  gods help me, reading.  i severely miss reading for fun.  i haven't read anything that's not related to work or training for my new position or for my science class (NUTRITION.  FUCKING NUTRITION). 

or reading about algebra.  fucking learning about solving number problems with words is kind of annoying.  fucking algebra.

whatever.

and i really want a vacation.  i really want time for me.  i don't care if it's a cruise or boston for a few days or canada or whatever.  i need to not be 'here'. 

so i'm taking a couple of nights off from work.  and i found twizzlers on sale at pathmark so i bought them.  and it *says* they expire 10/2011.  and they taste... strange.  the consistency seems off too.  guess i found out why they were on sale.


practical matters: we survived hurricane irene with minimal damage.  we have a HUGE tree in our front yard and we lost a few big branches off it.  one hit our gutter and dented it, but the gutter's still attached to the house.  no flooding either.  we did evacuate to my in-law's house which is like in the middle of long island right near the highest point on long island.  so we figured we'd be safe from flooding.

we mostly were - the house is old so there was a bit of water in the basement because it rained FOREVER.  but they lost power early sunday morning.

and still don't have power.  probably until MONDAY.  a whole week without power.

we got power back midday sunday.  we live near the water - a canal two blocks north of us, a canal a block and a half west, a canal a couple of blocks east, and the bay sevenish blocks south.  so we're SURROUNDED by water.  and we didn't get flooding.  it stopped about a block and a half south of us - it was really close.  but we made out on this one.  the only casualty: my fucking sanity.  when we were breaking down the huge branches in the front yard, a goddamned SWARM of mosquitoes attacked me and my arms are COVERED with bites.  i have them on my back and hands too.  fuck.

we have a vet appointment this saturday with ALL FOUR CATS.  exciting times.  i can't wait to see how much cat hair we end up with in the car.  and then awesome husband has the third sitting for his tattoo.  once he's done, i get to start work on my next tattoo! yay!

so for now, some soul-searchingish stuff going on re: work/school/me balance.  i figure i can take it slow for a couple of weeks and see what happens.  i get insurance like tomorrow so i can start looking for a therapist in addition to my psychiatrist/drug dealer.  therapy is delicious.  i'll enjoy that.

finally, new blogger is kind of killing me.  i guess i'll get used to it, but right now it's driving my ridiculously nuts.

list of needs/wants

• i need to find a way to back up my photos on my time capsule as actual images i can access from any computer on the network, not just as fucking disk images.
• i need the guy from the gas company to finish what he is doing so i can not worry about having to jump up and let him back in the house.
• i need the cats to stopfuckingfighting and grow up. and i'm speaking about the 16 year old as well.
• i want to feel like my pills are working better than they are.
• i want to not have to take tarzipan today.
• i want the facilitators from my last two classes to post my damn grades because i'm about to blow my 4.0 GPA and i'm more upset than i should be about it.  because no one really cares except for me.
• i need this fucking hurricane to NOT hit long island's south shore like a windy ton of fucking bricks because we live between two canals and like five blocks north of the water.  so we are SURROUNDED by water.  
• i need more diet coke. i'm supposed to be drinking water like a good little girl, but fuck that.  
• i want to not have to work for a day and do nothing but sit around and read, maybe watch some cartoons, and snuggle on the couch with cats.
• sometimes, just sometimes, i want to not care so much.

part five

wednesday was the day before thanksgiving.  i got to the hospital and mom was sleeping.  like, really sleeping.  i cornered a nurse and asked what was going on.  she told me mom had been in some pain the night before and they gave her morphine.

huh. that was a first.  stage IV lung cancer, in the brain and wherever the fuck else, and just NOW she was in pain.  okay, well when did she get it?  EIGHT hours ago?  shouldn't she be up by now?

the nurse looked at me.  like, really kind of looked at me, and said that the morphine would have worn off for most people, but you know, depending on their tolerance.

oh, haha, i said, mom can't even drink a second rum and coke.  so she's probably just, like, REALLY out of it from the morphine, right?

right?

the nurse smiled at me and walked away.  not a laughy smile either, kind of sad.

okay, we can deal with this.  i booked a plane ticket for awesome husband to come up because we knew it would be the last thanksgiving we'd have together as a family.  i was hoping mom would wake up and be coherent enough that we could convince the doctors to let us take her out for the day.

i don't have any real memories of this day.  i'm sure some aunts and uncles and cousins came to visit.  i know my dad was there at some point.  doctors and nurses and bedpans and needles and whatnot.  i don't have any real memories of this day because NOTHING HAPPENED.  mom slept.  all day.  she would kind of wake up and grunt if i poked at her enough, but that was it.

i asked the nurse how much morphine they had given her.

not that much, was the answer i received.

not enough to keep her out for twelve plus hours.  not so much that she should be this unresponsive.  not that much.

well, you know.  she's sick.  and tired.  we'll just let her sleep. 

i would say 'i love you mom'.  and she'd smile a bit, not opening her eyes, and say 'you too'.  i said 'i love you mom' more times in that week than i think i have my entire life.  i needed her to know it.  i didn't know how to else to tell her without upsetting us all.  'i love you mom' never meant as much as it did that week in ICU, or the following week in hospice. 

********************

thursday morning i picked up awesome husband from the airport.  my dad, brother, awesome husband and i trekked to the hospital.  mom was still asleep for all intents and purposes.  there was another uneaten tray of breakfast next to her bed, unsipped water.  did she get more morphine?

no, the nurses told me.  she'd just been asleep.

i approached one of the nurses, pressing for information.  i live in florida, i have a house and cats that need attention.  when are they going to start radiation?  when will she leave the hospital?  what's going on?

thanksgiving morning i was told 'i wouldn't plan on going back to florida' by mom's nurse.

when i heard that, i lost it.  DAYS???? that means days. we have days?? just days?  what happened to another family trip?  even a weekend getaway?  mom seeing the cats again?  one last holiday season with her? radiation therapy to keep the swelling down and make her comfortable, her vision coming back until the end?? what happened to all that? where did it go?

i had to leave the hospital and go to the house my mother grew up in, where her brother and sister and their families were gathered, and ask to speak to them all in one room.  i had to tell them that they told me not to go back to florida and that there was nothing we could do.  i was 30 years old, my brother 26, and we had to tell everyone that chemo wasn't even an option, radiation wouldn't help, it would just make her sicker.  that there was no operation or medication or anything that would change the fact that we had days.  so few days that i shouldn't bother booking a ticket home.

they wanted us to stay there, and i understood.  but there was other family there, the other side you know? my mom's brother's wife's family.  not that i don't know them and whatever, but it was awkward - hi, we're all here waiting for my mom to die, but you all go ahead with thanksgiving.  i couldn't do it.  i wanted to go to my dad's brother's house.  the small side of the family: 10 of us all together, including significant others.  the house i could drink at without feeling funny or ashamed.  the house i could cry and curse and hug at without non-family looking in (not NON family, but you know - not immediate family).

we went to my aunt and uncle's house. it was somber, to be sure, but in a thoroughly 'our family' way.  we mourned, of course, but we laughed.  we remembered mom, we talked about her, told stories about her.  it was good, it was sad - but it was good.

until i finally got in touch with that one hold out family member.  thanksgiving was already turning out to be a shitty holiday, but it was about to get a whole lot worse.  thank gods i was with the part of the family i love drinking around.  we were all going to need it.

inspired

by aunt motherfucking becky who wrote a post about tattoos and it made me realize i haven't shown my newest addition off yet.

new tattoo.  its actually a cover-up.

and of course awesome husband had to get in on the action.  no really, we've been planning a sleeve for him for some time and it's finally started.

this is the back of his arm.  it's rocks.

this is the inside of his arm.

the entire thing will have a pirate theme.  you'll see.  this is the eay after his first sitting, his second sitting is this saturday and we're very excited.

ALSO.

samantha.  why not?

NSFW. i don't know how else to say it. seriously. NSFW. this is not pr0n.

yeah.  that's right.  it's borderline porn.

but with fake bewbz.  really fake.

let me start at the beginning....


my wife (a bestie from high school) loves building and sculpting and artsy things.  and ended up with a job at a company that makes fake cadavers.

yes.  you read that right.

the company makes, like, fake bodies and torsos and shit like that for medical students to learn on.  she's sculpted teensy veins for people to practice, like, veiny shit on.  and she's assembled a body on top of a skeleton by attaching muscles in an anatomically correct way.

seriously.  what a job, right?

anyway, so for reasons undisclosed to me, they were casting bewbz.  like, i don't know if someone requested them or what, but they could hide things in the breast to have people search for them.

no, not like matchbox cars and toys.  like, fake tumors and shit.  get it?  great idea, right?

so they cast some bewbz of the workers.  they had small and medium bewbz, but needed large bewbz.

you see where this is going now, right?  now, if you're offended by pictures of big girls partially clothed and fake breasts (seriously, i promish- nothing is real here) don't scroll down.




......




......




seriously, you better be okay with this.  i'm either about to lose all of my followers or get attacked by pr0n bots.


and if you are related to me or otherwise queasy about seeing a lifelike replica of my actual breast (or my beautiful gut hanging over my jeans) then turn back now!


for the rest of you...  enjoy our feature presentation 'the making of the BEWBZ'

wife's other better half and wife mixing stuff

'instamold - for all your BEWBZ casting needs'

using an ancient flour sifter to sift the powdery crap.  my beaver was cast in the sink as well.  yes, an actual toy beaver.  sickos.

being felt up by wife and wife's other better half.  in the name of science, or something.

more fondling.  the stuff set faster than i think any of us expected.

wife's other better half copping an extra feel.  can you blame him?

the first cast! we never used that bowl again.

it was strange looking at it.  i didn't think my tatas were that cavernous.

so we did that casting in late april.  then went out to dinner.  and probably drank or something.  weeks go by, they turn into months... it turns out it's a lot harder to make bewbz than any of us thought.

but the process was fun.  it was nice to get surprise emails or picture messages on my phone with my boob in some state of being created.

april 25th - the naming of the bewbz - 'titzilla' is born!

may 3rd - the mold being created

may 3rd - the mold.  i also have a photo of my wife wearing it as a hat.... :/

july 7th, what i believe to be the first working prototype.

'working prototype' meaning 'being able to be fondled' of course.

i also have a RIDICULOUS video of my wife slapping my bewbz around.  not my real bewbz... we never tape stuff like that.  i mean titzilla.  it's pretty hysterical. *goes to watch it and laugh for a few minutes*

okay.  so a couple of weeks ago i received photos from my wife on the final bewbz, TITZILLA!!!

this is my bewbz.  it is my right bewbz.  i went with righty because she's a bit more hefty.

the shape is pretty much right on.  big bewbz sag and pull down a bit.  sorry fellas, but it's true.

i must be honest, my nipple area is not quite that pink.  but it inspired me to start rouging my nipples.

yeah, rouging nipples.  look it up, it was done.  nipples used to be considered, like, fashionable.  not anymore, sadly.

and now, for the coup de grace.  thank you for bearing with me and my BEWBZ on this exciting journey.  if you have been a long-time reader (yeah, like a few months) you may remember i got the "nice rack" award a while back.  and that semi true torystellar called me out, saying my BEWBZ pictures were not worthy.

well, here you go torystellar.  how are these??

no caption necessary, i think.

epic, just epic. thanks, wife and her company that shall remain nameless at the bequest of the owner.

you might wonder why i did it?


who gets to do something like this?  how many times in my life am i going to be asked 'hey, can we cast your boob?'  the answers are 'no one' and 'never again'.

and, hey, i'm getting more action than ever before.  there are potentially hundreds of students groping me as we speak.  how many people do you know that can say THAT?

that's right, just one: STEPH MOTHERFUCKIN' GAS!