Archive | May, 2008

Some things are private

Our internet is all messed up at home, today (gosh, HOW UNUSUAL), and so I trundled off to my favorite coffee shop to steal borrow their internet. And really, after I pay $5 for a cup of coffee, I think I’m entitled to QUITE A LOT OF INTERNET.

Anyway, first I had to finish up some work that was due this morning. Done.

Then I had to do my regular Friday morning post for Want Not, because if I don’t, a rift will form in the space-time continuum and we are all doomed.

And then when all of THAT was done, I decided (even though I’m done with my coffee) that I could do a quick post for here, before I leave. But there’s a college kid standing behind me waiting for his coffee and totally READING WHAT I’M TYPING.

And you know, I’m a delicate flower with sensitive, private feelings. I can’t be having someone reading over my shoulder what I write for thousands of strangers to read. That would just be wrong.

Shut up.

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Love keeps growing

We’re just past the halfway point of the kids’ first week away this summer, and truthfully, the days are passing at a tolerable pace. It helps to have a major catastrophe to tend to, I guess, to take my mind off of other things. LUCKY ME!

Oh, I kid. The whole computer failure and subsequent retreat into the fetal position has only occupied a tiny (gigantic) sliver of my time. Actually, I’ve been quite busy with my little container garden out on the deck. And that’s because I love to garden! Oh, wait. Actually, I think it’s because some sort of mystery bug is eating through my banana pepper plants. I spend a lot of time out there trying to find the culprits, and shaking my fist at the sky, and watering, and pinching the basil, and just generally fussing over my plants because my children aren’t here to fuss at. Don’t judge me. If all YOU had was lemon verbena, you’d spend more time with it, too. (more…)

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Is it chilly in here? No?

Hey, just a quick follow-up to yesterday’s post, before I get started, here—it turns out that there is ONE covered specialist in the next town over who we could see. Don’t even ask me how I figured this out, because it will cause my head to explode. Anyway. I called to make an appointment and was informed that we were required to do intake forms before we could even make an appointment. So I drove all the way over there with gas costing more than gold, and discovered two things:

1) This doctor is in the same practice as two of the “highly recommended” practitioners who do not take my insurance, which elicited a resounding WTF? from me.

2) The “intake forms” consisted of giving them my insurance information and signing a HIPAA form, after which they were gracious enough to give us an appointment in TWO MONTHS.

And then I killed them all. Oops! (more…)

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My next trick: HMO grumbling

You people are all so very sweet. Really. I love you all. Here, have a pony. No, wait—have two. But honest to Jesus, folks, you have PLEASE got to stop emailing to tell me that my data is recoverable. As I spelled out earlier today, it turns out that my MacBook had a Seagate drive with a known habit of, oh, BREAKING INTO PIECES. Apparently the heads snap off and scratch the disk all to shit as an added bonus. The result is that yes, I probably COULD pay upwards of two grand to have 20% of my data recovered in fragments, or I could just practice that thing called acceptance and move on with my life and my money. So.

But hey—three cheers for our hero Otto, because when he was at the Genius Bar the guy tried to give him another Seagate drive and Otto persuaded him to “make a mistake” and give him a different brand. Not that it was necessary, because now that I have automatic back-ups my computer will never die again. HMPH.

Anyway. Moving on! Let’s talk about how much I hate our HMO! (more…)

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Wrong punchline

So I’ve been having nightmares for a week. I’m sure we could delve into the deep, dark, psychological reasons why—though I think I’ll save that for my new therapist, THE LUCKY WOMAN—but it’s a pretty complicated scenario to interpret. See, the kids left for the first of their summer trips with their dad, yesterday, and all week I’ve been dreaming about something awful happening to them. Huh. I WONDER WHAT THAT’S ABOUT.

My darling husband has been so eager to distract me from The Crazy that he asked me approximately 294 times yesterday if I was okay, and he also suggested we go out on a date last night to take my mind off of things.

He offered to take me out for sushi, which was when I realized that perhaps my moping was scaring him. (Otto doesn’t eat sushi.) So we headed out last night for our wild evening of freedom. (more…)

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Did you hear the click?

Yesterday was the first day of summer vacation.

Yesterday I was trying very hard to make some of that “magic” I hear so much about, while still managing to get my work done and do those fabulous, exciting things like going for groceries because we didn’t have any food.

Yesterday afternoon my children had already decided they couldn’t stand each other, and there were tears and bickering and pouting and I gave up. “I HAVE WORK I NEED TO FINISH!” I bellowed. “YOU TWO NEED TO GO PLAY OUTSIDE. NICELY. GOOD-BYE!” And then just to rub salt in their wounds (because I’m SUCH A GOOD MOM) I blurted out, “Hey Monkey, why don’t you work on your bike for a little bit while you’re out there?” (more…)

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Love fakes it til it makes it

Love fights the good fight, and speaks its truth as best it can, and trusts that things will work out the way they’re supposed to.

Love prays a lot. Love tries to figure out What’s Best in a situation where nothing feels optimal, where everything feels potentially catastrophic, where animosity and differences of opinions and realities seem neverending.

Love is staggered by what seems like a ridiculous solution where everyone loses—where a judge plays King Solomon (love’s worst fear) and rather than accepting either truth, chops up the innocents and waits for the other players to relent. Which, of course, they won’t. Can’t. On either side.

Love despairs and tries to put on a brave face while dying on the inside. (more…)

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No more pencils, no more books

Today is the last day of school, and that means my children have survived an entire year of learnin’ courtesy of the great state of Georgia, and the more things change, the more they stay the same.

For example, I was still scrambling around this morning putting together teacher gifts, just like every year.

And I was hacking up a watermelon for a class party, last night, while complaining about it. That didn’t used to happen until June, back up north, but BELIEVE ME, it happened.

And I promised my daughter pink hair (new, true) and completely failed to deliver (not new) just the way I am always a GIANT SUCKING DISAPPOINTMENT to my daughter. Oh, wait. Strictly speaking, I suppose my INABILITY TO DO ANYTHING RIGHT is not limited to the end of the school year.

Would you like to take a turn flogging me? My arm is getting tired. (more…)

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Your children, entrust them to me

I am one of those people who has felt like a full-blown adult ever since I was about six. I’m not saying that I’m MATURE, because lord knows I am NOT, but neither am I one of those “Oh, gosh, when did I become the grown-up??” sorts of people. I can’t remember NOT feeling like a grown-up.

(I do remember feeling mighty aggrieved when I wasn’t being treated like one, as a kid and particularly as a teen. I see this same frustration in my daughter and when it’s not DRIVING ME UP A WALL it cracks me up. I think we should isolate the chromosome responsible for this premature sense of adulthood and learn how to extract it from prepubescent girls and inject it into politicians, instead.)

So when I do stupid things, I am never one to blame my age/inexperience or to think “Gosh, I should’ve known better because I’m an adult.” I just figure I do stupid things because I’m stupid. And yet here I am, responsible for two other human beings like I have a clue, or something. (more…)

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The &#$^! magic of berries

On Saturday we got it into our heads that it would be a great idea to go pick our own strawberries at a local farm. Because that would be a great way to spend a morning! And we all love strawberries! Right? Sure!

Okay, so, the first problem was that MY CHILDREN ARE TRYING TO KILL ME. And after begging to go berry picking they then refused to get ready to go and then took out everything they own and left it on the floor upstairs. At least, that’s what it looked like. So I had one of those really charming teachable moments where, instead, I had a GIANT HAIRY HISSY FIT (that’ll learn ‘em!) and declared that we were going nowhere. In fact, we’d never have strawberries again, if that was how they were going to be! WE’LL JUST NEVER DO ANYTHING FUN!

Sometimes I wonder if during my hysterectomy they forgot to remove the PMS. The alternative is that I just happen to be a melodramatic shrew, and that can’t be possible. Ahem. (more…)

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