suck sucky suck suck

cheap-fun-wineYeah, I’m pissed. And depressed.

I’m 55 years-old, smart, reasonably attractive, and fairly well-liked! I dress well, speak well, and I have SKILZ, baby!

If I were younger I would consider making an offer to sleep my way into a job.  I’d also take pictures and blackmail their asses but still….money is money.

On Friday, three days ago my daughter called me from work to tell me that one of her patients mentioned that a job had just opened for a Marketing Director at a nearby assisted living facility. She suggested that I would be ideal for the job and since I had “insider” information I might be able to beat the crowds looking for work there. It was too late to get my resume out to them by that time so first thing this morning, Monday, I called them to ask for an appointment and was told the position had already been filled.  WTF?

So I have decided that if I live frugally enough I may be able to make it through till I sell this place, collect Social Security (HA!), and maybe have something left over in my annuity to keep me from having to ask my kids to let me live with them.

So here are some ideas I have to save money:

I plan to unplug my clocks while I sleep. 

I will only eat whatever is on sale, and I will only buy what I know I will consume. In the past I have been rather wasteful. I have been known to buy items and then they sat in the freezer or produce bins until they were no longer edible. This spring I tossed some freezer burned edemame, chicken livers, a roast of dubious origins, several bags of Tater Tots , and a 4 lb. chunk of frozen Velveeta over the bank in the back field.  NO MORE! I also intend to start that diet. I think I can probably hibernate on these extra 20  40 lbs. I carry.

Two-ply toilet paper and paper towels? No more. Any remaining two-ply items will summarily be separated into single-ply and used thusly. By reducing my food intake (see above)  I will dramatically cut down on my own “solid-wastes” anyway!

I will get used to wearing a winter coat while in my house. My down comforter will substitute at night. Thermostats will be kept at 55 degrees.  I apologize to anyone visiting me but be forewarned to dress appropriately when coming by.

Coupons. I hate ’em. I will now use them.

Consignment clothing is chic, no? I may look retro-fashionable from now on (otherwise known as “the bag lady look”).

dress made from ramen noodles packages

dress made from ramen noodles packages

Mineral make-up is expensive but I love it. BareMinerals is my cosmetic of choice but perhaps some good old Pennsylvania dirt would work as well. It is, after all, mostly minerals! And it will work so well with the retro fashions I intend to adopt! Perhaps if I sterilize it in the microwave first…..

Siphoning gas from my ex’s vehicles will save me on gasoline bills for my car. Hey! Who asked him to build a house right across from me anyway?

If anyone would like to contribute suggestions on ways that I can save more money please comment and I will take them under consideration. If anyone would like to donate to my retirement fund…. I will adopt you. I could use the tax write-off of a dependent.

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the good, the bad, and the snuggly (no, not the damn blanket!)

The weather sucks.

It really does. It’s 42 degrees outside and not much warmer inside, as far as I can tell. D’Bear keeps the heat off until icicles form on the computer screens. Hey, it is his house to do with as he sees fit. Oh, he tells me to turn the heat up but I know he hates it…so I don’t.

stanleyclarkeI am here in NY since last Friday. We went to see Chick Corea, Stanley Clarke, and Lenny White play their amazing jazz in Buffalo at the University of Buffalo Center for the Arts.  I am learning to love jazz. I never thought I would!  Stanley Clark practically f*cked that bass, I swear! He made love to it and made it sing in ways I never knew a bass could sound. He strummed it, plucked it, beat the strings, drummed on the body, fluttered his hand over it like he was literally making love to it! Oh. My. Gosh.

Today is the 7th day in a row with no sunshine. I can’t take much more of this.

I considered going to Rochester Works , the NY State -run employment agency to look for a job here in Rochester. I changed my mind. I need a job. I do. Money is draining through my fingers way too fast. My savings are not going to be able to withstand the kinds of hits they took this past year again unless I can somehow bolster them up with some moolah this year.

My prospects aren’t that good back in Pennsylvania. The economy sucks there like in many small towns. The few manufacturing jobs they once had have long since dried up. Car dealers folded. No one is growing larger, business-wise. My marketable skills are … well, let’s say I fit a niche market, shall we? It sounds better than saying I am practically unemployable at 55 years-old.

Oh, I am smart, reasonably attractive, willing to work, and easy to train but let’s face it. McDonald’s doesn’t really care if I keep my nails nice and ran my own business for 12 years, right?

The job market is considerably better here in Rochester BUT, and here’s the rub, I live in PA! All my contacts, my “stuff” is till there, in PA.  My bank, my mechanic, my house, my daughter and her family, my art studio, my junk… all are there.  If I didn’t have my house there it would be different, but I do. Until D’Bear and I make other arrangements that’s the way it’s going to be.

I don’t want to get married. I want to live, love, laugh, and enjoy the years left without the legal shit. I want to be with D’Bear simply and truly because I love him. No other reason.

He found out this week that his contract job is coming to a close shortly, like in one to three weeks. That means he will be looking for the  next job, feeling the financial strain of living on savings and unemployment until the next gig comes along. Sometimes he gets cranky as shit and I have to put up with his moods and he tells me it’s because he is unemployed. Ahhem… helllooo!!! So am I!

I want to work, too. I just don’t feel like being degraded in the workplace by slinging burgers or emptying bedpans, or smiling at dumbass customers at Home Depot for a few measly bucks a week. I don’t mean to imply that there is anything wrong with doing those jobs but I won’t go there. I am 55 years-old, and I deserve want to work in a place which respects the workers with a fair wage. And I will NOT work every damn Saturday!  I worked every Saturday for over ten years when I had my business and I will NOT do that again.

mcdonalds1Call me what you will.  I am not a prima donna. I am a damned hard worker. With me , you get 150%, but only if you grant me respect. Otherwise I’m outa there. I have watched pimply-faced 19-year-old boys in management at fast food places ,bossing around women twice their age, with sneers in their voices as though the women had no feelings.   I have seen the callousness of nursing home owners when speaking to the nurses’ aides.  I have heard the stories of the retail workers at that DIY place and I can’t imagine working there for very long.

So I am at a loss.

I’m going to sit here and figure it out. One way or another.

Hell, Cougar Town is taped! I can watch that! Noo, maybe not. I don’t need another media message telling me I should look like Courtney Cox in 4-inch heels.

Fuzzy slippers and a sweatshirt maybe.

OH! Here’s another thing! (You thought this damned long blog was finally coming to a close, didn’t you? HA!) After two years together, I am finally coming to the conclusion that I try too damned hard OR he-who-will-not-be-named needs to step his game up. I do not greet him after he comes home from work wearing sweat pants and a hoody. I smell good. I look good. I am cheerful. FUCK! I am practically June-Fucking-Cleaver!cleaverish He looks good when he goes to work. On weekends he wears cargo shorts and Tshirts. What happened to the nice pressed, button-down shirts and the neat jeans? When did wearing cologne become only for workdays? Hmm?

What happened to the sexy talk? When did sleeping- in become sleeping? When did saying “You look beautiful ” become a thing of the past? Where did the occasional love notes or flowers or kisses-for-no-reason go?

Every time I leave NY to drive home…EVERY TIME! … I write him a love note or letter or paint him a picture and leave it somewhere for him to find when I am gone. It’s become a game with us. As soon as he gets home he looks for it. Sometimes it’s somewhere obvious like on the bed. Sometimes I leave it a little hidden so he has to look for it. But I ALWAYS do it.

I am still waiting to find one from him.

Now, in all fairness, he does some wonderful and loving things. He does. He tells me he loves me pretty often. He is a thoughtful and considerate lover. He takes good care of me in so many ways. I am a bitch to complain.

I know he loves me. That’s not it. I am just tired of being the one to make all the effort here.

Men.

I love ’em.

verily i vociferate

This morning, after having eaten nothing since Monday evening, and drinking 8.3 oz. of Miralax in every conceivable clear liquid along with 4, count ’em , FOUR Dulcolax tablets yesterday, then nothing at all after midnight and after having spent 2/3 of Tuesday hunched on a toilet bowl praying for death (or Thursday) I arrived at the offices of my two dear gastroenterologists.

rectal2I was instructed to arrive by 8:00 a.m. for “the procedure” at 8:30. When I arrived there was no one at the reception window so my SIL (bless his heart) and I stood there until this squawky voice called from an adjoining room “Be right with ya!”

As the lovely lady (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) made her way towards the window I smiled and said “Good morning!”. I was ignored. She took my paperwork without a word and asked me “So,you’re here for a colonoscopy. Did the stuff work?”

What? “the stuff“? OH!!! “Yes, thank you, it worked.” I said. My SIL took a couple of steps back.

She came around the corner and said “Follow me”. I turned to SIL and said ” Go on. Get out of here, I’ll call you when I’m done” and he scooted out the door! She took me to her little corner cubbie and attached a heart monitor and a blood pressure cuff then proceeded to squint and peck at her computer while the machine attached to my tubes and wires tried its best to cause complete blood loss to that limb.

I watched her silently pecking, looking…pecking…watching, waiting…for what seemed like hours. OK, it was about 15 minutes but it felt longer because my left hand was dead blue in color and my heart rate was jumping all over the place. Finally she asked me the same questions that I had answered on the papers I was told to bring AND the same questions this office had had their PA ask me three weeks ago. No, I do not take any medications. No I am not allergic to anything. No, I am not diabetic!! For God’s sake woman! Can’t any of you read????

Finally she stood and directed me down the hall to the prep area. Five women I assume were nurses ( Nurses are evidently NOT gonna wear white, dammit!)  stopped and watched me enter the room. Not one smiled or said a word to me. I was instructed by my  lovely (cough*BULLSHIT*cough) lady to remove my clothes and put on the handkerchief “with the ties in the back”.

Suddenly I became aware that the nurses had regained their voices. A multitude of sounds approximating the sounds of hens clucking and scratching assaulted my ears and the ears of everyone in the room.

“So I said to her ‘ I am NOT gonna take my day off to drive him to the dentist. He can get Marie to do it!” and ” Oh, you shouldn’t have to!” “Where are the bagels? I know there were half a dozen here this morning!”  “He can just go fly a kite! I am not his little servant girl!” “They want me to fill in AGAIN for Dotty on Friday!” ” Is this coffee fresh?”

Now here’s the part of the blog where I’m supposed to stop and say that I have a tremendous respect for nurses, which I do. I am supposed to say that they soothed my brow and made  me feel cared for and that theirs is a difficult job and so on and so forth.  Well, today I was not impressed. This rant is about me and my experience today so if you are a nurse, or you’re married to a nurse or you have a relative who is a nurse, please don’t go all  ballistic and start the flames, OK?

Finally one of the less hunched of the quintet made her way to my cubicle and began to ask me AGAIN “Are you allergic to anything? Do you have diabetes? Did you eat anything this morning?” She told me about the storm she witnessed last night as if I don’t live in the area and I didn’t experience the same thunderstorm. She rattled on about how she has a chain saw but her nephew says she shouldn’t use it because it’s too dangerous but will he bring his sorry ass over to clean up the branches that fell last night..oh no he won’t! All the while she is poking me with an IV needle. Holy Mother of God! She is jabbing that thing like she’s sewing up a Christmas turkey’s ass! “Sorry. I bruised the vein a little there…wait…oh, good, I think it’s in…oops, nope! Ahh……there we go.”

 I watched the male anesthesiologist roll his eyes while waiting his turn to talk to me. He whispered in my ear after she had gone “I’m sorry about that.”

I didn’t feel great about being a woman in that room of women right then. Hell, I didn’t feel great….period.

When I woke up after the procedure one of the hens…I mean nurses, came over to see if I was alive. I assured her that I was and I said “There’s something wet down here by my butt” and she laughed and said “Don’t worry about it. Everybody says that!” When she left I used my IV hand to reach down to my hip and I felt something on the mattress. Grasping it as well as I could I pulled it out and it was a plastic cup!  I must have made a noise because the nurse came back and said “OH!  That’s an irrigation cup! It spilled all over your bed!”  NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!!!! story

 Let me tell you, I was never so glad for the doctor to pronounce me fit to go home about ten minutes later. Two polyps removed  and the doctor’s pronouncement that they didn’t appear to be cancerous (but they will be biopsied to make sure) and I was outa there! Two years of freedom from the fear of death- by- colon -cancer for me and a few thousand buckaroos for the doctor! It’s a win/win!

keep breathing

woman-and-crows

It seems that many of my friends and I are going through a period of , maybe not quite depression, but a deep feeling of sorrow.

I am not sure what’s going on but I suspect there are lots of reasons. Some of us are having trouble making ends meet.  Some of us are tired of feeling like we’re less than the most important thing in our partner’s life. Some of us want to grow, to learn, to see ourselves in a whole new light and don’t know how to make a change.  Some of us are in pain, real pain, physical pain. Some of us are suffering a loss. And some of us just got thrown a pile of shit.

I feel it, too. I shouldn’t. I’m in the best and healthiest relationship of my life. I feel loved for who I am finally.I have a man in my life whom I adore and who adores me and treats me with the utmost love and respect.  That should count for more than enough to mitigate any negative feelings I have. But it doesn’t.

Some days I wake up and think “oh, ..great.. another day. the same as yesterday…joy..”

Partly the factors I listed above have a part in this negative mood. I lost a shitload  last year in retirement money I had socked away. Every day seems to bring a new financial challenge: a leaky roof, a mechanical problem with the old car,  a new medical ailment, etc. 

 Partly it’s a feeling of frustration over my lack of direction and meaning in my life. For the first time in 55 years I have no  one to wake up for in the morning who needs me in a real sense. No one who wants me to make them a good hot breakfast or who needs me to do a job that only I can do that day. I don’t earn a paycheck anymore. That makes a big difference to me. I see the numbers on a paycheck and I feel like the hours of the past week meant something…or not, if the numbers are too low.

I eat too much , I drink too much, I want to sleep too much when I feel like this. I know it will pass.

That’s what having lived a hard life taught me; life has ever-changing waves of highs and lows. No one is immune.  It’s the way of LIFE. No one promised me a rose garden. I got one though.

If you’ve ever raised roses you know what I mean. Roses are beautiful, to be sure, but they are not easy to grow. They require lots of maintenance: pruning,watering,  feeding, deadheading, mulching, insecticides, and preparations to control mildews. They get eaten by deer, rabbits and other herbivores. They die if the temperatures drop too low. Sometimes they simply die for no known reason!

 But OH! When they bloom! The make your heart SING they are so beautiful! And then we accept compliments and congratulations for this miraculous thing of beauty when we know in our hearts that we are only the caretakers, not the Creator.

 So tomorrow I will see sunshine even through the rain. I know it’s there beyond the clouds.

This song by Ingrid Michaelson pretty well sums up my mood right now.

 

who you calling paranoid?

Birdpress took one of these on line personality test that determine your mental health. Hers was quite intimidating..to her. For those of us who know and love her, well.. we know and love her.  She’s NOT nuts! She’s awesome!

 But curiosity got the better of me so I went over there and took the test and here are my results:

Disorder Rating
Paranoid Disorder: High
Schizoid Disorder: Moderate
Schizotypal Disorder: Very High
Antisocial Disorder: Low
Borderline Disorder: Low
Histrionic Disorder: High
Narcissistic Disorder: Very High
Avoidant Disorder: Low
Dependent Disorder: High
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: Moderate
 

Sheesh!! No wonder poor little Birdpress was worried. It seems I am a Paranoid, Schizotypal, Histrionic, Dependent with moderate OCD!!

 Fuck ’em. That’s what makes me interesting!! LOL

Oh, What a Relief It Is!

 stork1 This is the BEST day! My Christmas is complete now.

 Yesterday my oldest daughter, who is 14 weeks pregnant, had the  first sonogram for this baby. She was so excited because she really wanted to know whether it is a boy or a girl. She has a 2 1/2- year-old son at home so I was kinda hoping to hear that maybe it was going to be a granddaughter. I don’t really care but (shrug) ya know, it would be kinda nice to shop for pink things with lace for a change. I have 3 beautiful, intelligent, and wonderful grandsons and it would be cool to have a female grandchild.

 I insisted she call me the moment she left her doctor’s office with the news. She called around 3:15. The conversation went like this:

  “Hi, Mom.”  …..”Hi, so what is the good news? Is it a boy or a girl?!!!”… “It’s a boy.”…….. “Well. that’s terrific!! Cole will have a little brother!”…… nothing. I hear crying.

 “Mom, the technician is sending me over to Scranton to a Pediatric Imaging Specialist because she thinks there might be something wrong with the baby’s heart!”

 “What? Is she sure? Why does she think this? ”  She explained what the tech said and why she was a little concerned.

” I don’t understand why this is happening! I did everything I’m supposed to do! Why can’t I just have a healthy baby?”

 She had recently miscarried early in her last  pregnancy so she thought that this time at 14 weeks everything was doing well.

 I carefully told her not to get all excited and worried, that maybe the sonogram tech was just incompetent, that maybe there was a shadow in the way, anything I could think of to reassure her. She was devastated.

 She left for her appointment this morning with my son-in-law. Their hearts were heavy. I got a call at 11:20 telling me the good news. The baby is PERFECT! The specialist believes that the baby was positioned at such an angle that its spine was blocking the sonogram from seeing the main chamber of the heart. The tech at her doctor’s office was just being cautious in referring her to the specialist.

 HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!!!!!!!!!!

 I am not especially religious but I had the music channel on my satellite TV station tuned to the Christmas music channel and as soon as I hung up from hearing the good news I raised the volume and “Ave Maria” came on.

I lost it.

 This is the best Christmas present I could ever have received, to know that this little child is , indeed,  doing well inside my beautiful daughter’s womb. Thank you, God, Jehovah, Yawa, Buddha, the Cosmic Guru, whomever! My grandchild is, for now, healthy and growing and my wonderful daughter is smiling like the beautiful Mommy that she is.

Merry Christmas to everyone!

Uninvited Critters

My sweet woodstove

My sweet woodstove

My wood stove is getting a good workout for the first time in many years.

Like so many young homeowners in the late 1970’s we purchased a wood stove for our country house and me, the young wifey was responsible for the care and maintenance of said appliance. I stacked, toted, and occasionally split the lengths of firewood and was in charge of making sure the fire was up and roaring early in the morning to take the night’s chill out of the house. I cleaned the ashes out daily and disposed of them in the garden to boost the soil for the vegetable garden I planted each year.

Needless to say this wore thin once the price of wood continued to creep up and the cost of heating oil came down. The wood stove sat, unused for almost 15 years. Until this winter.

Divorce is nothing if not a creator of realities. Where before I had the steady income of my own business and that of a husband, I am now dealing with divorce settlements which, If I am very frugal might last me till I am dead. Perhaps not in a falling economy and the fear of living on tea and kitty kibble made me learn to economize in surprisingly creative ways.

 I lit the wood stove about a month ago for the first time in years and suddenly I felt that intense radiant warmth from it that I had long forgotten. Sitting by it on a cold day when the wind has sucked the warmth from my fingers and toes and no wooly cardigan is sufficient to take away the shivers in my body I settle down with a sigh of contentment.my pile o' wood

 I didn’t even mind the woodpile and the carrying of logs to the log ring on the porch outside the front door. I gathered fallen branches from around the edges of the fence line and stacked them for kindling in a basket by the door. The smell of woodsmoke is like perfume to me.

But what I do mind are the uninvited critters that make their homes in the woodshed and even on the logs themselves! I was restacking some wood which had fallen from the woodpile last week when I decided to neaten up the woodshed. I picked up a tarp that I had place over the potting table and as I lifted it the the tiny clay pots stacked so neatly  came alive ! Mice, dozens of them began pouring out of the flower pots! A veritable fountain of mice erupted, jumping and running and flinging themselves off the table in search of cover! I shrieked! My skin crawled! I ran, flinging the tarp as I gasped in horror at the scene!36_mice_wide1

I can handle snakes. I grew up in Florida where snakes are just part and parcel of the landscape. But there are two things that skeeve me the fuck out and that’s mice, well rodents in general, and spiders! The other thing about burning wood is the fact that spiders live under the bark of the wood so that bringing wood into your house also brings those disgusting creatures into your house! I have seen them creep out, those loathsome black wood spiders, then run under the baseboard where they wait for the can of Raid I haul out to kill their asses!  I feel horror in imagining them crawling out and setting up house in MY house!

wolf_spider_lrg

Florida Wolf Spider

 When I was a little girl living in a Cracker house in Central Florida I used to sit on the toilet in our house and watch as these giant wolf spiders spin webs in the corner of the bathroom. They were as big as a small child’s hand, these loathsome creatures and that’s where I learned my fear of spiders. My mother wouldn’t kill them because they ate the cockroaches!  Ah, my childhood. What a time that was. Imagine having to do your business in a room where no sane person would venture, your little legs dangling there while you pray for a fast poop so you can get the FUCK OUT!

 I have since returned to the woodpile but I carry a long stick with which I pound the woodpile to send the critters  a warning before I pick up the first piece of wood. So far, so good.

I’d Rather Be Thought a Fool

  willworkforfood111806

On Friday I was at D’Bear’s house in Rochester while he was at work. I was doing a little straightening and baking some cookies for the get together with the neighbors later when the doorbell rang. I don’t know which door to go to since there is the front door and then there is a side door which everyone who knows D’Bear uses. I went to the front door thinking that’s where a doorbell is most likely located.

A man was walking away by the time I got to the right door. I thought at first he was the UPS man because I could see a UPS truck out by the curb in front of the house next door. This man wasn’t wearing the “Brown” but I asked him if I could help him , thinking he may be a meter reader since I do know they come around to read the gas meters here.

 He turned to me and said “Ma’am,my name is Kenny ******. Lots of people in this neighborhood know me.  Would you like me to rake the leaves from your front yard? I sure could use the work ’cause I have no food for tonight.”

 He was a slender black man of about 40-years old. He appeared clean and quiet and non-threatening. I started to say “No” but only because D’Bear has a leaf blower and that was one of things I had planned to do that day. However when I looked at that face all I could think of was: here is a man asking for help. Not a handout. Just some help.

Now in my community back in Northeast Pennsylvania I seldom see  African-Americans or Asians or even Hispanics. We have a fairly uniform white populace. I have lived there for 27 years. Rochester is much more diversified racially. I have no real prejudices that I know of so this black man didn’t even make a blip on my radar as a man of color, only as a man in need.  I’ve been in situations in my past where the opportunity for any kind of work would have been a lifesaver. The thought of someone going without food even for a night breaks my heart when I am so blessed with food in the refrigerator all the time!

 I asked him how much he wanted to rake the yard and he hesitated only a moment before saying ” $12.00 okay?”

I said “Sure! That would be great. Just ring the bell again when you’re done and I’ll come out and pay you. By the way, are you hungry now?”  “He said “No, ma’am, but some food for later would be much appreciated.”

It was a crisp and chilly day as he began to rake the leaves but he removed his sweatshirt and hung it on the shrubbery along the driveway.  I went back inside and placed some bread, a jar of peanut butter, some grapes, cheese, and a half of a stick of pepperoni I had in a bag along with a plastic container of juice. In about a half an hour he rang the bell and I gave him the money ( I made it $20) and the bag of food. He looked at me and said “You’re gonna make me cry. That is so kind of you. Thank you.”

 I said “It’s my pleasure. You did a great job on the lawn!”  He had! It was clean and all the leaves had been neatly raked to the curb.

 He put his sweatshirt on and walked a little ways and then turned back and smiled at me as he walked on.

 I closed the door just as the phone rang. It was D’Bear. I told him what had just happened and I told him the man’s name, asking D’Bear if he knew of him and he immediately said ” NO! I have never heard of him! WE DON”T do that! That’s dangerous! There have been lots of house invasions in this area lately!! Don’t EVER do that again!”  and he was sort of shouting.

 I said, “Well, I did it. I won’t do it again. But I usually read people well and this man seemed to be no threat. My only stupidity may have been to open the door to a stranger at all!” D’Bear must have taken a moment to think about what I had said because he apologized and said “I trust your instincts. I was just frightened for you AND he could have been casing the place so he could come back and rob us later.”

  Huh?? Ok, maybe I am naive but would a man actually rake your leaves in order to canvas your yard and see if he could break in later? I guess it’s possible but it kinda makes me giggle. “The Yardman Bandit”!  Or the “the Roving Rakeman Robber”!  heeheehee!!

  D’Bear and I have talked about this a lot since Friday. He has since told me that I have a good heart even if I am kinda innocent in the ways of city life, and he feels bad for having shouted and said those things. He even offered to give me the $12 since it was for HIS yard! (I didn’t tell him I made it $20)  We had a long talk about race and the lack of jobs for unskilled workers in the city and about how one goes about being a good neighbor. I think maybe I taught him a lesson in giving and compassion. He taught me to be more cautious about opening the door to strangers. He’s right. But I’m still glad I did.

Change Is Good

A recent comment from Dobeman made me start wandering about the way others have seen me this past year or so.

As some of you may know, I am waiting for the final divorce papers to come through any day now.  It’s been three and a half years since my ex walked out my  door and into his girlfriend’s. I grieved and ranted and stopped functioning for over a year and then I decided that that was bullshit and decided to live again.

 I never expected to meet someone so easily. D’Bear and I met July 13th of last year and we’ve been a “couple” ever since. He lives three and a half hours away from me. We each own our own homes. We aren’t planning on changing anything major ’cause this arrangement suits us. We’re two peas in a pod. We are silly and loving and living a life I only dreamed was possible.

 What is it about me that has changed these past few years? Hmmm… let’s see.

  1. I no longer refer to myself as “Pat”, the name I got stuck with when I moved north of the Mason/Dixon Line in 1974. (Previous to that I was known as “Patty”. Gag me.) Now since the ex’s girlfriend is also named “Pat” I use “Trisha” since Patricia is a little too formal for me. I’m not a formal kinda gal.
  2. I have learned that I am once again still a sexual human being! Yeehaw! Sex is fun!! You just need the right partner!! Who knew?
  3. I no longer have someone to nag and/or bully into doing things around here. It never worked anyway and it only served to piss me off. Now when the garbage needs to be taken out or the fields need to be mowed or the car needs to be serviced I simply take care of it. I always did anyway. Now I just skip the first step!
  4. I am no longer afraid to go to the toilet in the middle of the night to find myself sitting in the toilet water getting my ass wet because the fucktard I was married to couldn’t be bothered to put the seat down in THIRTY FUCKING YEARS!
  5. I eat healthy foods now ( most of the time) rather than the crap the ex wanted on a regular basis. Thanks to this my cholesterol has gone down over 40 points!
  6. I have purple stripes in my hair!
  7. I dress better. This is because I am with someone who gives a shit! Before I could have worn the sexiest thing on the racks and the ex would never have noticed… or cared. If you aren’t a classic car or a meatball sub you don’t get much attention from him.
  8. I’ve learned a lot about wine. D’Bear is a wine connoisseur and I am building a kick-ass wine cellar now! I love it!
  9. I’ve learned that I can live very cheaply and still be happy. Good thing since my money options have gone to the dogs. I sold my business two years before my marriage went totally to shit and haven’t been able to regain the financial stability I once had. C’est la vie!
  10. I can love again. It’s great! I learned that I am NOT unlovable or so flawed that no one can love me.  D’Bear loves me!

So , yeah, I’ve changed. My ex used to tell me “You’re not the girl I married! You’ve changed!” Well, DUH!! I grew UP! I matured! I evolved!

 Him? Not so much.

Fed Up

 I started watching the presidential debate tonight but after  15 minutes of it I turned it off, fed up and disgruntled. I looked up the definition of the word disgruntled

adjective-

displeased and discontented; sulky; peevish:  grouchy, testy, sullen, grumpy, dissatisfied.

 

 

That’s me, to  a tee!  I got my account statement from one of my investment groups and it chilled me to the bone. I lost what is to me a huge amount of money in ONE fucking month! The money I lost could have supported me for over half a year! AGGH! 

Why did we all work so hard and sock away money for our old age if this is our reward? Last year- YES! last year all the financial advisors were still saying “Put your money in IRAs and retirement accounts. Don’t spend all your income on today! Plan for tomorrow!” Bullshit! I should gone on a freakin’ round-the-world cruise, for cryin’ out loud!

  Obama and McCain were verbally wrestling and pointing fingers and swearing that they were the salvation of America BUT they would NOT offer a solution to the economic problems facing us all. They can’t. This is bigger than they are. This mess is so stinkin’ nasty our government can’t fix it. That, I believe, folks, is the truth and it scares me half to death.

 Here, Kitty Kitty!!!  Mama needs some o’ that Nine Lives! It might be dinner pretty soon!

Shit, I’m pissed.