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Archive for May, 2009

My May

I’ve always rather liked May, what with all the flowers that the April showers bring and what not.  I have had my May marked up on my big desktop calendar since January: 
 

 

 

  • End of Pay Period on the 2nd and 16th.
  • Paydays on the 8th and 22nd.
  • Austin trip with Dane on the 1st (which was later changed to the 15th because of our Swine Flu Vacation).
  • Austin trip to move Reagan on the 16th.
  • Family Supper at Church on the 20th (which I completely forgot about due to brain fatigue from two trips to Austin).
  • Band Banquet with Kelly on the 23rd.
  • Kelly’s high school graduation on the 29th.
  • Kayla’s wedding on the 30th.
  • Reagan to the Airport on the 31st (to fly to NEW YORK CITY for her summer internship).

Now, to some, I guess that isn’t a whole lot to do in any given month.  But for me?  Listen, going to Walmart every two weeks pretty much all the fun I can stand…wish I was kidding….but I’m not.

So yeah, heading into May I was a little anxious, but excited mostly…and then, the bottom dropped out of my world when my phone rang and my Big Boss called me to inform me that my pay was being cut 30 percent blah blah blah industry standards blah blah blah buzzzzzzzz. 

To this day, I couldn’t tell you what all she said because after that 30 percent paycut part, I think I blacked out and fell onto the floor, in a livid, pissed off heap.  And then I cried.  Now, to be sure, not everyone got how monumental this was to me or how much it was going to change my life…and I was pissed off at them for not getting it…and I stayed pissed off at them for not getting it for a good long time.

At any rate, given the fact that I was considering strapping 25 sticks of dynamite to myself and walking into the California office, and then the Pittsburgh office, and then flying to freaking Mumbai and walking into the Mumbai office, and blowing them all to kingdom come, I decided it was probably best I resign, which I did as soon as I found another job…

another job that wasn’t going to pay anywhere near what I was making before the 30 percent paycut and only marginally more than what I would have been making after…but I was in whatthehellever mode and was going to show them good. 

At any rate, there are many, many things about the new job that I love so much I want to marry…the doctors, for one.  Oh, these doctors know how to talk and I love them and want to kiss them on the face for being so clear and considerate.  The owner of the company is wonderful.  The QA lady is wonderful.  Everything is so freaking wonderful…

except the money.

Blah blah blah. Sad I can’t just go buy two of anything I want anymore. Broken record, side two. WAaaaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHH.

After all that fun came the big Swine Flu Quarantine of 2009 and our schools shutdown for two weeks, wreaking havoc with the other things on my calendar, like the trip to Austin with the entire fourth grade class, which was an amazingly fun time and not something I wish to do again EVER, which is a good thing since I will never have a fourth grader again.  I loved the capitol and the Texas State Cemetary and the Tres Leches cake at Luby’s. 

Mostly, though, I loved my sneakers finally being on that bus headed home.

Some things I learned on the trip:

  • Sam Houston and Stephen F. Austin were not BFFs.
  • Sam Houston hated Austin, TX.
  • Everything in Austin is either uphill or upstairs.  Everything.
  • All fourth grade boys go by “Dude.” 

I forgot to add that I woke up the morning of the trip with that all to familiar dull ache in my right jaw that would would yield to a dental abscess from the recesses of hell by the time I got home Friday night.  NO FUN.

The trip to move Reagan back was fun, too.  The Teacher played hookie and came with me and the three of us had lunch at the best mexican food place EVER (edited to say it is Trudy’s, since that picture is so teetiny) and I’m not even joking.  Like, you know what is better than the best mexican food ever?

The best mexican food ever served on plates as big as a turkey platter, that’s what.

She also took us for the best ice cream EVER (edited to say it is Amy’s since that picture is so teetiny)

Again, not even joking.  If you ever go, try the coconut kreme pie with coconut and graham crackers.  Seriously. It’s worth the trip. 

So, that more or less brings us current, less than 60 hours until my youngest daughter graduates from high school…leaving me with just one left and a blissfully long break before it’s his turn to walk across that field. 

After this month, I need me a long break.

 

 

 

 

 

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Miss me?

I haven’t written here in a long time. 

I haven’t written anywhere for a long time.

And for the longest time I blamed the whole no writing thing on the whole not drinking thing, which may have been true in the beginning, but not so much now.  It occurred to me this morning that the reason I am not writing is just that is has become a habit more than the fact I no longer find every bit of my creativity and wit at the bottom of a Natural Light while mah Pall Mall burns down in the ashtray.

And that stops today.  This all started for me.  It felt good at the end of the day to sit down, drink a few (thousand) beers, smoke  a few (thousand) cigarettes, and write.  In blogging, much like in much of my real life, I felt so much more hysterical after I’d had a few…and somehow, peach tea wasn’t giving me the same result…so I just didn’t write.

Oh, I’d sit down to write…I’d mull things over in my head before sleep at night…I would fashion elaborate pieces in my head about the asshat at the four-way stop on Woodard who was on her cell phone…but in the end, I’d hit delete and go find something else to do.  A lot of it, I think, had to do with the fact that when I would write after a few (thousand) beers, I really didn’t edit myself much and seemed to always have something to talk about. 

Without the few (thousand) beers, I am very careful…leery of stepping on toes, leery of oversharing. I have come to realize that much of what I have to say now has to do with God and what I have seen him do in our lives over the last six months, and I am leery about that because I am not a “spiritual” writer and this isn’t a “spiritual” blog and so many of the ones that are sort of get on my nerves and I don’t quite know how to work with that. 

But, again, I can’t let that matter to me anymore.  I am going to write again.  And sometimes I will use the word “blessed,” probably a lot, actually…and sometimes I will call someone who was on their cell phone at the four-way stop an asshat, but I’ll say it in love.  Really.  Seriously.

The fact of the matter is this, in four short days I am six months off the juice and smokes and I cannot say that without becoming a little emotional…

Because I know I didn’t do it by myself…

and that deserves talking about. 

And besides that, there is so much else going on in my life that warrants talking about.  I have this bunch of children who do fun and exciting things that warrant talking about and I have these awesome floppy yoga pant things I got from Old Navy that warrant talking about and Dane’s sunflowers are huge and I have passion flowers by my bedroom window that smell like heaven must smell, and my Easter lillies from two years ago are blooming and I have this awesome new(ish) refrigerator that doesn’t really work right because it needs Randy the ApplianceMan to come out and fix it so that it won’t freeze up solid (here’s to doing your internet research before buying)…but look at it…isn’t it so pretty and shiny?

 Picture 323

So, yeah.

I’m back.

 

 

 

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