Stuck in the Middle

Scene 1: Dinner with my parents last week.

Partway through the meal, my dad starts complaining about my brother, Tim, how he never sees them and doesn't feel close to them, etc. etc...

My mom chimes in about how busy they always are and how they never return her phone calls. (I'm thinking, 'They return MY phone calls,' but wisely decided not to say that out loud.)

Blah, blah, blah, more complaining ensues.

Scene 2: Dinner at my brother's house Monday.

I tell Tim the good news, that mom and dad aren't going to be around for Thanksgiving this year! (Well, i thought it was good news!)

Tim starts complaining about how busy mom and dad are, and how he never sees them unless he invites them to do something and how they never see their grandchildren.

Uh oh!

My 2 cents:

I tend to think, from past history, that Tim possesses the opinion closest to reality.


Now i'm wondering what to do. Truthfully, i would do nothing if not for the fact that Tim seems truly hurt. If i were to talk to anyone, it would be Tim, as i think he has the more adult view, but i am hesitant to stick my big fat nose into this, because i can see how it could VERY EASILY come back to bite me in the ass.

If you give a Meno a Cookie

I'm staring down a Star8uck's oatmeal cookie right now. I made the mistake of looking up the calorie count on the interwebs after i bought it and before i ate it.

400 calories, 65g of carbs. Wow. I've been in denial and it was a lovely place to visit. I think i stayed too long.

So the cookie is sitting next to me. The struggle is that it cost $1.49 (plus tax) and i hate to waste money. But then, at the end of the day, would i pay $1.49 (plus tax) to have eaten 400 fewer calories? I think i would. If only it were that easy, because what i actually have to do is much harder than spending money. I have to not eat the cookie.

Can she do it?

I don't know.....stay tuned.

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The Mister somehow damaged his Visa card, so he called for a new one. When it arrived he got on the phone to activate it, and was puzzled when he got transferred to an actual human.

"Can you tell me what you use your card for? she chirped.

"To charge things," answered The Mister, thinking "WTF?"

"What kinds of things?" asked little Miss Ch*se Bank employee.

"I'm not willing to answer that. If you want to know, look it up in your records. Is my card activated?

"Yes, sir, your card is activated. We are trying to assess your spending habits in order to sell you shit you don't need better determine your credit card needs," responds Ch*se Bank employee, her accent becoming more pronounced.

"I'm going to hang up now. Bye." And he does.

"Let's cancel that credit card," is my helpful suggestion.

"Excellent idea!"


Fucking marketing.

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Since when did the criteria for pulling in front of someone in traffic change from 'You shouldn't cause them to have to slow down' to 'If there's any possible way that they can slam on their brakes to avoid hitting you, go ahead???'

I must have missed hearing about that new law.

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The cookie is still outside my stomach. For now.

Attend to me!

Today is my birthday.

I mention this for two reasons
1) so you can shower me with attention and,
2) so you can see what a geek i am when i tell you about the presents i got.

I got a wireless mouse for my laptop (the Wireless Mobile Mouse 6000, she's a real beauty,) and a gift certificate to get my car detailed! No perfume or clothes for this woman, no indeed.

Looking over the literature accompanying my shiny new black mouse i notice that (and i quote);

"Failure to properly set up, use, and care for this product can increase the risk of serious injury or death."

OMG! Death by mouse. It happens you know, just like spontaneous human combustion.

Apparently i should also not eat the battery. Good to know.

That is all.

Why?

Do you know damaged people? I know damaged people.

I have a friend, a friend that most other people don't understand how i could be friends with, because she is so guarded, so odd, so....uninteresting.

I have recently found myself trying to explain why i like this "uninteresting" person. In thinking about it, replaying the conversations to think about what i should have said, i suddenly got it.

What i find, in this damaged person, really damaged, damaged in ways that i don't know and cannot truly understand, is the courage this person has, to go on and find a way to live a life, a full life, maybe not a full life in a way that i think a full life might be lived, but full for her.

That means courage to me. Not a courage easily recognized, but i see it. I just realized that i see it, and i respect the hell out of that.

Quietly, and with great respect for the distance that living this life requires, for her.

Look around. Do you see her?

A Frown and a Smile

As a favor to The Mister, this morning i took his shirts to the dry cleaners. (Because i am a good wife. Not good enough to wash and iron his god damned shirts, but good enough to deliver them to someone else to be serviced.)

The Mister strips off his shirts and dumps them into a bag (on a good day, mostly they land on the floor,) and leaves them buttoned up and with the sleeves rolled up.

The dry cleaner man, a joyless human, does not like this. Maybe it's all those chemicals he works around that make him so grumpy. He pulled the shirts out of the bag, one at a time and glared at me whilst unbuttoning them and unrolling the sleeves. Slowly.

"Oops, sorry!" i said and grabbed one of the shirts out of the bag to help. Mr. Grumpy Pants snatched the shirt out of my hand and continued to grumble and glare.

Okay, i get it, i should have done this, but since this is only an occasional chore for me, i forgot. He could have said, pleasantly, something like, "If you could please unbutton the shirts and unroll the sleeves, it would be most helpful." But no, he just gave me the stink eye.

I react badly to this kind of disapproval. Fuck you Mr. Grumpy Pants, there are lots more dry cleaners in the sea!

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And now for something completely different.....

THE LARCH!

Never mind, my Monty Python brain cell turned on for a moment.

Later in the day, while driving to my quilting group, i was stopped on the way by a shiny yellow school bus. As we all sat there waiting, two VERY TINY little girls, complete with brand new pink back packs almost as big as they, got on the bus, while mom, dad and baby sister all watched from the sidewalk.

As the last one hopped on, she stopped in the doorway and turned back around so that her dad could take a picture.

Ah, the first day of school.

For some reason it brought tears to my eyes. So tiny to be heading off all alone.

Not so long ago it was me watching from the sidewalk.

Em, before heading off to her first day of school.