October 2005 Archives

What an interesting (read: unusual) Halloween it's been! I drove to the kids' dad's home and got the kids all ready for trick or treating. However, we ended up having to wait--for their next door neighbor girl, and her dad, and her grandma. My friend Nickname, who had nothing to do on Halloween, joined us. The eight of us spent an hour walking around fairly wealthy neighborhoods, fairly unfamiliar to my friend and I. It was cold as is every Halloween--especially if you were in a bellydance costume as I was-- but at least it had ceased raining.

After that, with a few hours left to kill, we (minus the neighbor and family) went to the mall. Then it began to get even more strange, if such is possible. Nickname happens to have an entire collection of children's music on his mp3 player. An instantaneous sing-a-long erupted! They were all so happy! It was so cheerful and cute as to be out of some comedy. I refused to participate; it was just too much! (I rarely do such things with the kids anymore. Instead I consider it my duty to introduce them to good music such as the White Stripes and the Beatles.) Nickname had never even met the kids before, and suddenly they were all in harmony. There was glee coming in all directions in that car. Some song like "There's a hole in the bottom of the sea" would come on, and someone--either a child or Nickname--would say, "Ooh! I love this song!" and then the other party--Nickname or a child--would chime in, with most sincere enthusiasm, "Me too!" That was something else.

We went to the mall where many other costumed folk had headed. I gestured at the children's playplace at the center of the facility and assured my friend I wouldn't be dragging him there. "But what if we want to ride the carousel?" he asked. Our mall has a lovely two-decker carousel, and Nickname paid for us all to ride. ("Anyone want to ride the carousel?" "Me!" "Me!" "I do!" "Me too!") He even volunteered to stay below with one child while the other two and I went to the top deck, an unexpected (considerate, helpful) gesture. The carousel ride is best described as delightful. I had been disappointed to see all the horses "upstairs" were taken, only to find what really rocks: Swinging on a swing on the top story of a spinning carousel!

I dragged Nickname earring shopping as well, making him choose between the adorable frog and the cute turtle earrings for me (I can never decide such things!) and to Build-A-Bear where I gushed over the Cookie Monster--who comes with real Cookie Monster, "Mmmm, I love cookies!" sounds! I absolutely positively cannot wait for my own Build-A-Bear Cookie Monster. I was trying not to be embarrasingly giddy.

Finally, we ate dinner at Fazoli's. For all my years of letting others pay for me, I now pay for guys' dinners--except that they rarely let me. We had a lovely dinner.

I hadn't really envisioned Nickname meeting the kids, and as for this evening, I assumed they'd be consumed with trick-or-treating and he and I would have good time to converse while we walked the neighborhoods, little interaction required. Spending all that time together as we ended up doing was unplanned, but turned out surprisingly well. (He complimented me several times on my kids. Yay!) I don't know *why* he'd want to spend an evening doing these things, but it seems he did.

Mind you, Nimmers and I have a policy of not "dragging people in and out" of the kids' lives, and I have always adhered to it. Eventually I realized though that, as much as I try, I cannot always keep the kids completely out of my social life. Occasionally I end up talking about them. Occasionally we run into friends of mine. And darn it, I simply do have friends, and they're good people, and my kids can learn from them and watching my social interactions.

What an interesting/unusual/happy/cheerful/cute/harmonious/full of glee/enthusiastic/unexpected/surprising/delightful/rocking Halloween.

(I had to say goodbye to the kids at the end of the evening. I cried. I couldn't describe how wonderful this time back home with them has been. I won't see them for at least two weeks, and I most honestly can't type this sentence without my throat constricting and tears welling. Can I simply say I wish I didn't have to go away from them?)

There's so much to do and so much going on and so much new and so many people and so much to contemplate... Halloween is being glossed over, and I dislike glossing over holidays. I love celebrating. In fact, I make celebrations out of more things than anyone I know. I like the Pagan holidays as well as the "traditional" ones (ha, There's some irony. Which is the traditional of the two?). I've been known to celebrate days like Cinco de Mayo just for fun, or the Super Bowl, when I don't even like football. Of course, new jobs, the end of the school year, and other personal notes are always celebrated, too. Not always extravagent celebrations. Sometimes just a glass of wine at a candlelit table or a good movie and popcorn are treat enough. I love life and the people in it.

The kids and I did, to some extent, carve pumpkins. I took them to a Halloween party at school, and this weekend I got to go to my first adult Halloween party (which could scarcely have been better). I have learned, to some extent, how to shrug things off . Thanks to TNG. He was always a little too laid back (important things were often neglected) where I was always too uptight (taking on too much and worrying needlessly). Halloween does not have to be everything on a big list of "must do"s. It's not the end of the world if we don't get to go to the pumpkin patch this year, even though it's a tradition. So Halloween isn't all I'd ideally like, but it's perfectly adequate.

I'm also working on being more positive. My goodness do I have a tendency to be negative. Stop it!

Finally, I've got this strange pain in my back that's all too similar to the one that was the first sign of my last kidney infection--the one that landed me in the hospital for four days. Of course, I hope it's just a strange pain and nothing more.

I hate to be so corny as to post this story, but my god, I wish I could be more like the girl in this story.

A Jelly Bean for Halloween
By Evelyn M. Gibb

The bag of assorted candies was ready, and I'd been looking forward to visits from pint-sized goblins. But Halloween morning, my arthritis flared up, and by evening, I could barely move. I couldn't possibly answer each knock on the door to distribute the goodies, so I decided to fasten the candy bag to the door and watch the parade of trick-or-treaters from my darkened living room.
The first to arrive was a ballet dancer with three little ghosts. Each picked out a sweet in turn. When the last tiny hand emerged full-fisted, I heard the ballerina scold: "You're not supposed to take more than one!" I was pleased big sister would play conscience for the little one.
Princesses, astronauts, skeletons and aliens followed. More children showed up than I had expected. The candy was running low, and I was about to turn off the porch light when I noticed four more visitors. The three oldest reached into the bag and pulled out Hershey bars. I held my breath, hoping there would be one left for the tiny witch. But when she pulled out her hand, all it held was a single orange jelly bean.
Already the others were calling, "C'mon, Emily, let's go. There's no one home to give you more." But Emily lingered an extra moment. She dropped the candy in her bag and then paused, facing the doors. Deliberately, she said, "Thank you, house. I like the jelly bean."
Then I watched her scamper away to join her fellow trick-or-treaters. One dear little witch had cast her spell on me.

I'm bored, so I'm baking cookies. It's been too long since I've baked, I can tell. ( I haven't been home!) I like a little almond flavoring in my sugar cookies, but my bottle appeared to have evaporated. My sugar had taken on a little moisture to form some clumps. I suspect my shortening has outlived its usefulness: It may be my imagination, but it seemed to smell a tiny bit off. I'm sad to throw it out but happy that the can's mostly full, which is wasteful but means I'm not using it as much as I used to. Hydrogenated fats are so bad for you, and a love of sweets and baking doesn't combine well with this fact. (Thus, I used real butter in my cookies, and skipped the usual, much cheaper product: margarine. My idea of good nutrition!)

The other night I made a meal that made me happy, as it hit most of my dinner needs: Quick, easy, nutritious, and with kid appeal. It was based around chicken legs for Shay, and was easy enough that my son cooked the whole dish. The chicken was plated with honey carrots and seasoned brown rice that I topped with slivered almonds and parsley. It looked pretty and the kids devoured it. This makes me happy.

I have never had such a battle in my life. With a bottle of wine, that is.

In the end, both sweat and blood had been shed. My arms were shaky and weak. Pieces of cork were everywhere and metal was bent. However, there is wine in my glass. Victory!

That took me 30 minutes, a testament not to my love of wine but to how stubborn I am. This will surprise no one who knows me. I would've been up 'til dawn opening this bottle if need be, because darn it was going to thwart me. I will not be a girl who can't open a bottle of wine by herself! (I will be a girl who does so shoddily, it seems, since Richard stole my good corkscrew. But whatever. I did it. So There.)

I spent too much money at Walmart.

This has happened many times, of course. The place is evil. With a simple purchase of a gallon of milk, it will manage to steal two or even three of your life hours away. Often, that one gallon of milk will cost you $20, $50, or even $100, and you always end up with a half dozen bags to take home, no matter what your intended purchase.

But today I had money, and to make it worse, I was feeling a little bleh. Way worse than that is to start it all off, I needed a new tube of lipstick. I had actually worn the one Mom gave me for Christmas all the way out. New lipstick lead to perusing the makeup aisle, of course. Then I thought of my makeup bag and how all the lids to my compacts are broken, thus leaving them all chipped and dusty and my makeup bag a veritable bag of colored dust. You get messy just grabbing hold of some eyeshadow. So I bought three new ones in order to be able to replace and throw out all of the old. Having a simplified, clean, usable makeup bag will be wonderful.

Other things I purchased:

I guess I won't be going back Monday. Sounds exciting. I almost wish I was there.

From iWon weather:

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN MELBOURNE HAS ISSUED AN INLAND HURRICANE WATCH...WHICH IS IN EFFECT THROUGH MONDAY EVENING. BASED UPON THE CURRENT OFFICIAL FORECAST FROM THE NATIONAL HURRICANE CENTER...STRONG WINDS FROM WILMA WILL BEGIN ARRIVING INTO EAST CENTRAL FLORIDA EARLY MONDAY MORNING...PERHAPS AS EARLY AS PRIOR TO SUNRISE. WINDS WILL INCREASE SIGNIFICANTLY AS THE SYSTEM ACCELERATES ACROSS THE SOUTHERN PENINSULA MONDAY MORNING... AT A FORWARD SPEED OF 20 TO 30 MPH. ALTHOUGH THE GREATEST THREAT FOR THE STRONGEST WINDS WILL BE NEAR LAKE OKEECHOBEE...THE THREAT FOR HURRICANE FORCE WINDS OR GUSTS WILL EXIST AS FAR NORTH AS ORLANDO AND THE KISSIMMEE SAINT CLOUD AREAS. AN INLAND HURRICANE WATCH IS ISSUED WHEN A LANDFALLING HURRICANE IS EXPECTED TO SPREAD HURRICANE FORCE WINDS...74 MPH OR GREATER... WELL INLAND DURING THE NEXT 24 TO 36 HOURS. IF YOU LIVE IN A MOBILE HOME...BE PREPARED TO MOVE TO A SECURE BUILDING. HAVE CLOTHES...IMPORTANT PAPERS...MEDICINES AND SMALL VALUABLES GATHERED AND READY TO GO ON SHORT NOTICE.

Okay, I'm sorry for all the blog entries, and this may not seem important to you, but it absolutely must be recorded.

For the vast majority of fifteen hours now, Shay and J have played together--perfectly well. I haven't done much with them today because I haven't wanted to interrupt this miracle. These are the two kids I dread having in combination, who can't get along in the car even with obstacles separating them in the backseat. All day I've waited for them to get done playing before we did something together, and they're still going, peacefully!

They've slid down the stairs in pillowcases and blankets. They've played school. They've drawn on the dry erase board and on the window with window markers. They've built houses out of cardboard boxes. They've played video games. They've played with Hot Wheels. Now, they're playing their second board game together. She hasn't even been telling him he's stupid! She only threw things at him twice and hit him once! (While he does things to her as well, I suspect they're less often, but he's far more sneaky, perfering subterfuge to her dramatic displays.) They haven't even said they were bored one time!

I'm not in the least exaggerating when I say I have never seen anything like it from the two of them. I may never see it again.

She said she loved chicken legs (said with squealing enthusiasm), so I set about making an easy chicken-leg-based dinner. I asked her if she'd like to help cook dinner, as she loves to, but she frowned, shook her head no, and said "nuh uh". I asked her brother, and he said yes.

The next 30 minutes or so were followed by anger and tears on her part. First she was upset because she tried to change her mind after her brother said yes, a typical child action. (If HE wants to, then I want to, and I don't care what it is!) She cried, though, saying we misunderstood her. This was a good ten minute angry exchange that made no sense, about how her brother and I had not thought she wanted to cook dinner, 'though we had, but were wrong, because she didn't. Or something.

The remainder of her tears were spent over her statement that I love her brother more than I love her, because I had asked him to cook dinner and not asked her to. Uh, hello, I JUST asked HER first, and there should've been three witnesses to that. More unintelligible words through tears came from her. I began to suggest that perhaps she should go upstairs by herself until she felt better.

Finally, she concluded that she HATED chicken legs, and my dinner looked GROSS, at which point I gave her my steely angry voice: She was free to think whatever negative and ugly thoughts she pleased inside her little head, but I'd best not hear another single one come from her mouth.

Everyone's entire day has revolved around her in my attempt to keep peace with her and have her feel loved. I had planned to get much needed groceries and supplies, but she HATES the store. We've nothing to eat, but even promises of buying her Mary Kate & Ashley clothes would not persuade her to go. I had wanted to spend the weekend taking the kids to the pumpkin patch, but she didn't want to go there, either. I need to return books to the library, but that was also refused. (All, of course, are beloved activities of hers. Go figure.) So for nine hours now we've been locked inside my house with no food and limited in what we can do, for her, all to only end as every day with her does: She's upstairs locked in her room crying, swearing I hate her. It breaks my heart having her so distressed and feeling unloved, but at times it is all I can do not to knock the tar out of her. She makes no sense to me whatsoever.

Who am I with money?

I've found that I'm not stingy after all. I'm happy to pay for my own expenses on dates. I tip performers I enjoy. I give money to the homeless I pass. I pay for shareware. I give gifts to friends. I tip more.

I'm a girl who occasionally wears $300 outfits or purchases $100 shoes (that is, if they're leather, the cutest boots known to mankind, and the very last pair in my size). I'm a girl who buys food from a restaurant when she's hungry, instead of starving herself to death to save a few dollars. I'm a girl who drives where she pleases and never bursts into tears over the cost (and thus, I'm a girl who sees her children often). I'm a girl who expects good service and notices the details in which a hotel fails. I'm a girl who shops at Dean & Deluca or Nordstroms if she wants to. I'm a girl who eats $50-75 dinners commonplace-ly. I'm a girl who is constantly realizing, "Ooh! I can do that now!" I'm a girl who carries herself with much more confidence and expects more from the men she dates, because, after all, I'm a person with value who deserves respect, no?

I'm a girl without worries, a girl of leisure, a girl whose happiness now outweighs her tears a hundred fold. It's amazing how much of my former problems are solved with a little peace of mind and a livable wage. It was indeed the situation which was depressing.

I try not to talk about much of anything here anymore. My boss reads all of it, as does, well, all sorts of people--guys I talk to, my dad, my exes, guys I may want to talk to some day, people's mothers...

But not being able to breathe more life into this blog makes me sad, too.

I want to talk about boys. I'm single, and I feel more than free to talk to and see whom I please, which I very much do. It's fun. It's flattering, having more than one person who likes you. It's reassuring having a number of people you could call up. Mind you, I'm very particular to loyalty in a relationship when I'm in one, and always I'm very devoted to honesty and communication, as well as going out of my way to not hurt anyone. I'm being careful to do no one any wrong or cause any harm.

I've met a few men in particular that I'm interested in. I've been trying to figure out why I am not even more interested in them, though, since they're clearly such good people. I like them, but why don't they excite me? I've concluded that each appeals to a certain side of me. Perhaps one is childlike, silly, and playful; perhaps another is classy and well-educated. I get to enjoy one set of things with one and another with another, but each is only a part of me. It is a big enough part that perhaps I could settle down and be fairly satisfied, but there's more to me that can't be shared there. TNG fairly well encompassed all of me: The parts that were silly and playful; the parts that were rural and mundane; the parts that were classy, educated, and sophisticated. The boring parts, the exciting parts. Will I find someone so encompassing again, or will I need to content myself with relationships that are *nearly* whole? I'm aware that healthy relationships don't meet all needs, and that pursuing independent interests is a good thing. But it's not just that, though, really... It's flexibility. It's breadth of personality.

And I should reiterate that these people I've met are great; I continue to be blessed with meeting good people. They make me very happy and have been wonderful friends. I've enjoyed the time we've spent together, very very much.

But the other day I was with one of these men, and I wanted coffee, but decided not to mention I did. He probably didn't want any, I assumed, and 'though he likely would have agreed, we would then have been altering our plans and driving to a coffee place and spending time getting coffee, just for me. I didn't want it badly enough to inconvenience him. And then I realized, with TNG, even such things as when we wanted coffee or naps or cookies were fairly in sync. If I'd mentioned wanting coffee to TNG in the past, chances are he would've been wanting some, too. Even our appetites were similar.

Clearly, that's not necessary. Clearly, he is not necessary. It was just...nice, sometimes, I guess. (Our love was so comfortable and so broken in) It's like, being a child and playing on the playground was nice. It's something to fondly reminisce over, but we all know it's not something we'd really want to go back to.

Will I find someone so encompassing again, or will I need to content myself with relationships that are *nearly* whole?

Let me recreate for you the joy of opening my birthday present from Nickname, someone you've been getting to know for a month or two.

You are presented with a gigantic box. (Everyone knows how cool it is to get "the big gift"). It is labeled with a sign reading happy birthday to you--specially made for you! In crayon!

Inside, you see a load of gifts, some wrapped in various fun things, some not. First you pull out a candle. (You love candles!) It's a really cool one, the kind that melts the candle into an aromatic pool of oil on a glass holder, and it smells wonderfully. Next you pull out a DVD that is the giver's favorite (that s/he hopes you'll love, too). Next you pull out an envelope containing a two page hand-written letter just for you. (Later you'll read it and see it is touchingly complimentary and heart warming and wonderful, not to mention how special it is to receive a handwritten letter anyway. Who does that anymore? Then you know the writer cared enough to spend much time and thought devoted just to communicating with you. I value such things greatly.)

Next comes a box of crayons--the big box! The 96-crayon box-- with the sharpener in the back! Better than that, they've written your name in the "This box belongs to" space on the back. Those crayons are YOURS, my friend!

Then comes a CD of songs that the giver has created for you. Knowing you and what you like, this thoughtful CD contains songs you haven't heard yet but might like. (And you're always asking people for music recommendations.)

Next you find a coloring book! (You've been wanting a coloring book!) Better, the giver has colored a page in it already just for you: the "You are a special friend" page.

Next comes money. Then a CD by one of your favorite artists. Then two CDs of the giver's favorite songs which s/he wants to share with you (which will not only introduce you to new music but help you get to know him/her better). Next is a package of construction paper! (Joy! You always keep construction paper around because it's so useful and so fun.) Also in the package: money.

Each disk and nearly every item is labeled with another happy birthday message, giving you another little jolt of feeling "Yay!" and a smile. Yay for you and your birthday! Yay for friendship with someone who'd spend so much time and thought into a birthday package, just to bring you happiness!

I spent my Friday night at a Halloween party: a Halloween party for elementary school kids. "Are you looking forward to the party tonight?" I was teased earlier in the day, when the answer was yes. Yes, honestly, I was.

I thought about it, and began to conclude that there was nothing I'd rather have done on a Friday night than take my kids to a family Halloween party. I had to modify that, though: Had some really juicy adult fun arisen today, I'd have wanted to go to it--after I took the kids to their Halloween party.

Even though I spent the first of the two hours standing in line repeatedly (for pizza; for pizza again for the two kids who disappeared when I bought pizza the first time; for drinks and cake; and finally, for drinks since they were out of them the first time through). Officially there were lots of raffle prizes; contests, music, dancing, and parade. Unofficially there were way too many over-excited orphans running around like gaseous atoms in a heated balloon. (Children with parents would be told not to run, no?)

Whoa nelly, am I ever behind in blogging. I tell myself I'm going to list all the things that are supposed to be here and draw them at random, dutifully blogging each until I'm caught up.

I've been told by numerous people that my apartment would have burned down yesterday if I hadn't been home at just the right time, and that it's miraculous that I was, particularly given how much I've been gone of late, and that I was on my way out the door at the time. I tend to agree. I'm quite certain there would've been an electrical fire here yesterday.

A series of soft explosion sounds had errupted from my kitchen, frightening me fairly well. Investigating, however, revealed nothing. I returned back upstairs to find that my lights would only come on dimly and were flickering, haunted-house style. I soon smelled something burning. I could find nothing wrong, 'though, so I was on the phone with the friend I was supposed to meet in an hour (an hour's drive away) to say I was leaving, when POP! BANG! the kitchen stove "exploded", and sparks flew. The thought accompanying the shriek of surprise was my kitchen's going to catch on fire!. So that's what those sounds had been! My stovetop had turned into an evil, flame-throwing demon with glowing red eyes and a life of its own despite being turned "off".

I must thank the following men who absolutely saved the day: Eric, who advised, particularly in that the stove's breaker would be separate from the kitchen's, thus allowing me to safely tranquilize the Stove Beast; Chris, who forced me to call my landlord when I had been leaning toward the "I'm sure everything'll be fine, and the apartment is far too messy to be seen at the moment"; and my kindly landlord and his handyman, who happily came over, fixed my stove, and even assured me it was no bother ("That's what you pay rent for, isn't it?" he smiled, when it's the 21st of the month and I've yet to pay that which was due on the first).

I FOUND IT! I knew it could be done (and easily, with the internet). It just took me many, many months to fully come to grips with the knowledge that I had lost my ring and it wasn't, at some magical point, going to be found or returned.

I wandered into a jewelry store at the mall the other day. "Do you have any Black Hills Gold?" No, they didn't, but they could make me any ring I wanted. "Oh, that's okay, I'm sure I can find it somewhere." He's sure they can't. Ring patterns don't stick around forever, particularly one I purchased nearly twenty years ago. He orders me to sit down while he fetches a pencil and paper and drags the ring design out of me. "It was very simple, really, just a very small little ring. It was just one pink leaf here, with grapes; one green leaf here, also with grapes; and a curly vine in the middle." He assures me they can make that, no problem. "How much?" The question excites him; he must suspect I'm buying into this. He dramatically pauses and considers and writes "$600" on the paper. I have no more intent to buy than I had before; less so, now, at that price, particularly for a ring that only cost $40 to begin with. "I guess I'll have to think about how much the ring means to me." He assures me they have a payment plan.

[This is the space that served as a placeholder for the the Super-dee-Duper Never-Ending Box O' Goodies entry. It is also where I may write about who I'm becoming and my rules for interacting with others (when I feel like I'm mishandling all my relationships). I may write about the differences between how the wealthy and the working class see things, and the resemblences my company has held to the upper class of old. I want to speak of the kids' trip to the Renaissance Festival, too. And how do you define "seeing someone"? Am I "seeing anyone"?]

P.S.--Mom won the lottery (okay, no, I'll admit, not millions) and she bought me an iPod nano. I repeat, I'm now an owner of an iPod nano. How kickbutt. How totally awesome. How happy am I!

Originally posted Oct. 17. I thought of something else I had to have, and I'll put it right at the top of the list below.

Things I Want For Christmas

(I'm putting them here because now, I can actually buy these things! In an attempt to NOT buy things that I very much want, I'm creating this.)

Cookie Monster!
My god, I'm in love!
Flavia desk calendar
Candles (forever on my list)
Chocolates (I've been wanting these for many years now)
Soap
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deeper Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deepest Thoughts by Jack Handey
Lost Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Fuzzy Memories by Jack Handey
Anything having to do with Mitch Hedberg or Andy Kaufman
Stovetop espresso maker
Burt's Bees products

Originally posted Oct. 17. I thought of something else I had to have, and I'll put it right at the top of the list below.

Things I Want For Christmas

(I'm putting them here because now, I can actually buy these things! In an attempt to NOT buy things that I very much want, I'm creating this.)

Cookie Monster!
Flavia desk calendar
Candles (forever on my list)
Chocolates (I've been wanting these for many years now)
Soap
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deeper Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deepest Thoughts by Jack Handey
Lost Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Fuzzy Memories by Jack Handey
Anything having to do with Mitch Hedberg or Andy Kaufman
Stovetop espresso maker

See, before I created this, I found two cool Bright Eyes shirts, and I told myself, no, don't buy them, you shouldn't; I know you want them really badly, so how 'bout we compromise and you can let someone buy them for you for Christmas? But alas, this list did not yet exist, and I bought the shirts both. But now, with this entry, this will not happen again!

Things I Want For Christmas

(I'm putting them here because now, I can actually buy these things! In an attempt to NOT buy things that I very much want, I'm creating this.)

Flavia desk calendar
Candles (forever on my list)
Chocolates (I've been wanting these for many years now)
Soap
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deeper Thoughts by Jack Handey
Deepest Thoughts by Jack Handey
Lost Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey
Fuzzy Memories by Jack Handey
Anything having to do with Mitch Hedberg or Andy Kaufman
Stovetop espresso maker

See, before I created this, I found two cool Bright Eyes shirts, and I told myself, no, don't buy them, you shouldn't; I know you want them really badly, so how 'bout we compromise and you can let someone buy them for you for Christmas? But alas, this list did not yet exist, and I bought the shirts both. But now, with this entry, this will not happen again!

[post posted]

Holy #@%!! I just almost had a head-on collision! Driving home late at night on a somewhat hilly and quite rural road, I came over a hill to meet two pairs of headlights--one in each lane. In that split second that one could label "instantaneous", I thought the following: "There's a car in my lane! Get out of the way! I can't, there's a car in the other lane, too! Hit the brakes! Swerve toward the ditch!"

Luckily for me I never lock my brakes or swerve too harshly--trained responses which I always fear may hurt me some day when a total brake slam or extreme swerve is required. For now, though, such responses keep me in control of my vehicle, and thus I didn't worse the situation.

It seems a car in the other land had wanted to turn off the road at the top of the hill, and the car behind it hadn't felt like slowing down. Rather, s/he thought s/he'd swerve full speed into my lane instead.

Luckily I was only going 60 mph. Luckily they jerked back into their lane just in time. Sure woke me up.

- - -
My home has become instead a shell of my former life. It is a museum to my past. How utterly strange to be sleeping in my bed. I don't want to go back to my past.

Indeed, what is the difference between these rich people and myself? I think some of my [appall] comes from the knowledge that now I am treated 180º differently than I was before here as I now walk among the wealthy, and yet I am no different, better, or more deserving than I was when I was treated as a poor person. The other day I saw a lady who couldn't be much younger than myself out to lunch with her boyfriend. She was wearing simply a turquoise long-sleeved cotton blouse of no design, jeans, and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I'm sure she felt like she was nothing special, that she had simply thrown on some clothes and pulled her hair back. If I had told her how beautiful she looked, she would've denied it--she wasn't "done up". But she was so elegant, so clearly from an income class higher than mine, without having even tried. I analyzed her all throughout the meal. It couldn't be the clothing or the hairstyle. Was it that she wore pretty earrings? Is there something about the way the wealthy do their makeup that I'm missing when I do my own? I kept stretching further. Maybe it was her complexion, which was better than mine. Maybe the rich use some sort of hair styling product to make their hair look sleek and shiney. What do they use that I do not? It can't be only in the way they carry themselves, although that's some of it, which I can only half-heartedly emulate as I simply don't feel I belong. Who am I fooling? People must look at me and see a poor girl from a middle class (in the old school sense of the word) from a family of farmers in a rural area. They must know instantly. I simply do not look as classy and sophisticated as my peers, and my new-found buying power and analytical intellect isn't enough to cover up.

I got a $100 haircut today.

I was happy with my $12/haircut stylist, but I can't say this hasn't been fun. My hair is very different now. I felt, since she clearly wanted to, that I ought to let this talented salon stylist have free reign with my hair. I originally said I wanted it long enough to be able to put into a ponytail, but seeing her disappointment and how utterly lacking in class this statement was, I commented that I supposed I could live temporarily without ponytail capabilities, and told her to do as she thought best. The process made her very happy.

My hair is indeed cute, although lacking her talent, viewpoint, and agility (I've never mastered brush in one hand and blow dryer in the other) I doubt it will look so cute tomorrow. And, as my stylist pointed out, I look tired. She's right, though, or maybe it's just because she said it--I look old and tired. I think next I need to find a makeup expert.

Orlando seems to be Sushi City. I've researched the "best" and "closest" sushi places, and that only narrowed the search to about five restaurants. (Back home--eh, not so many, with the nearest being an hour from my home.) I can't even count how many are in the town in total. I only know that by the time my boss and I had driven down International Drive calling out all the sushi restaurants we saw, I commented, "I think we can walk into any restaurant on this road and eat sushi." I'm really hoping for some tonight. We're so near the ocean; I can't help but think that the sushi here in Orlando might top out the sushi I've eaten in Arkansas, Missouri, and Tennessee. Yay!

I'm writing from one of those lounges you never see the inside of. Heck, I don't too often get to go to the airport at all, let alone gain admission to those club lounges. Everyone treats you differently when you're wealthy. Or rather, in my case, when you're traveling with someone who is.

I'm on my way to Orlando on business. I always wanted to travel on business.

This world of money is so different from mine in ways I notice all the time, ways that exceed just being able to buy stuff. People with money are treated as if they're something special, and this quickly goes to one's head. I'm starting to understand these people better--the business folk, the wealthy, celebrities. When special rooms are alotted to you with free cocktails and refreshments, when you bring a bag that far exceeds allowable weight limits and are told you'll have to pay a $25 fee, only quickly to be apologized to repeatedly and profusely for being a medallion member--"No charge, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize..." --my goodness, why shouldn't he pay? What has he done to warrant not having to wait at the airport with the common folk, to not even have to view such sights? I'm really not sure I understand. (No offense intended!)

GRR, Rude Creepy Guy! I am a little offended that a wait of two days has resulted in allegations from you that I am lacking decency, guts, and politeness. I had just indeed sat down to write you. I was thinking last night about how I hadn't gotten back to you, and that even though I wasn't sure of my Saturday plans I ought to at least say that, rather than waiting for them to be finalized. What I'm not telling you, however, was my lengthy discussion with a friend last night as to whether or not I should go through with Saturday at all, given how much you creeped me out Tuesday. I know it wasn't your fault, but red-flags were going up all over the place in my creep-dar. I didn't like how often you found excuses to touch me, or how you moved from your position across the table at the restaurant to sit close beside me, especially when I had just said that I felt the move would place you too close. Maybe I was too nice and unclear about that. I didn't like it when you took me way out in the middle of a deserted park in the dark, too far from my car for comfort, or how you kept trying to get closer to me there. I was really creeped out when you spontaneously leaned over and kissed me on the head. What the heck was that?

I'm not going to tell you any of these things, though, because I can't see where you actually did me any wrong. Quite the contrary, you went out of your way to accomodate me on my birthday, and I should be appreciative. I just expected to like you more than I did. And with as uncomfortable as you make me, spending time together on Saturday doesn't seem like a good idea after all. I'm quite sure you'd grope me in the corn maze.

I don't want to say all that, though, because I don't want to hurt your feelings. Yes, I don't doubt you get plenty of female attention and aren't "starved for dates", as you said. You were good looking enough, intelligent enough, nice enough, etc. But you creep me out, and this rude little email of yours today only makes it all the easier to agree that we should just say goodbye.

You all rock:

Thank you to Bri, Shay, and J for buying me such totally awesome and utterly perfect birthday presents and cards, and celebrating with me! Thank you to Mom who cooked us all dinner, and bought me a totally awesome, most perfect outfit even though she'd already ordered me a present which hints at totally rocking so I really didn't need another, but loved having something to open, especially something as great as this. Further, thanks for concern over my having a good birthday and sending me on my way with a dish of one of my favorite (labor-intensive) foods. Thank you to Jenny, for sending me the most indescribably wonderful piece of art last year for my birthday. That made my lifetime. Thanks also for wishing me well this year, too! Thanks in the same vein to Sheila, for sending me a DVD one year when she scarcely knew me. I will always appreciate that. Thank you to Chris, for taking me to the Renaissance Festival and wishing he could call me right at midnight. Thank you to Mysti for wishing me happy birthday. Thank you to Nick for sending me an ecard, and wishing he could do more! Thank you to Kimberly for spending my birthday countdown with me, and picking out the perfect gift! I'm floored. Thank you to Jesse for ushering in my birthday precisely at midnight with confetti, balloons, mimes, and dancing squirrels, even if they did have to be only virtual. Thank you to Scott for going out of his way to wish me happy birthday at midnight. Thank you to my "old dear friend from high school",Matt, for calling me before he went to bed to log in his birthday wishes before midnight. I had no idea he was even thinking of me. Thank you to Geri, Dad's girlfriend, for continually reaching out to me and being kind, even though I don't give much in return. Thank you to Carl, for getting me a funny card, a lovely bottle of wine, and even being so thoughtful as to include a wine opener. Thank you to Stephen for rearranging his schedule as to accomodate me on the evening of my birthday. Thank you to Rod, a *really* old friend from high school, for remembering to drop me a line on my birthday. Thank you good-looking-charming-but-married Jeromy, Mom's coworker, for texting me birthday wishes! Thank you, B, for commenting on my blog!