Depending on how you gage a day, really differs, but in my situation for the trip, I ended the day after the midnight mark and where the newest adventure began. The adventure with "the parents".
The drive back was rather uneventful. There were conversations, none noteworthy, as nothing included me. Mind you, I really don't feel like I'm self-centered or self-absorbed. It wasn't that if the conversation didn't revolve around me, that I wasn't interested. It wasn't really anything like that. What it was, was a group of people that have shared stories. Stories that they reminisced about and laughed about, which didn't include me as they didn't share the history of the story. Again, it was as if I wasn't there. A fly on the wall in a most awkward situation, that of course wanted nothing but to be at home snuggled in the comforts of my bed, or better yet with my family telling stories that I could include JC in. But the reality of the matter, I wasn't. I was in a mini van heading across Nevada into Arizona with a group of strangers, as an isolated outsider.
We arrived at the family home about two hours later. There wasn't anything memorable about the late night viewing out my window. The yard of their house was enclosed by fencing. We pulled into the yard, which housed an RV, a U-haul, a truck, several classic cars, a house, and a two car garage. The inside of the house wasn't completely packed up as it had been promised. The house appeared in disarray in attempts of packing, but a job surely left incomplete. Grandma and Aunt met us at the door when we arrived. JC and I had one of the bedrooms to sleep in which had boxes, and a full bedroom suite.
The last time I looked at the clock it was after 5:30a.m. Not that I settle in easily in the comforts of other's homes, but I had difficulty sleeping despite being overly exhausted and tired. The bed was extremely uncomfortable and the room was stuffy. I can't really say how long we or I actually slept, as I was awakened by the shower running in the adjacent bathroom. Shortly thereafter there were shouts and yelling and his mother screaming of cutting her finger.
Finally having enough, I got out of bed and stood wedged in between the bed and dresser searching for something to wear, standing in my night gown. There was a sudden quick bang on the door and without any hesitation, the door flung open. Fortunately, I had on my nightgown! In barged his mother who said that she cut her finger and needed a bandage which she grabbed from the nearby box on the dresser and off she went as loudly as she had come.
I went into the bathroom and got dressed. I put in my contacts and brushed my teeth. When I was done a few minutes later, I went back to the bedroom and closed the door. By now, JC was waking up. I decided to put in the movie to finish watching the ending, about five minutes which we had missed the night before. In searching for where we left off, there was another loud banging on the door instantly followed by his sister's (D) rude and loud entrance. Again, I'm glad that I was dressed. Mind you - in my family, we would knock and yell but never do you enter a closed door out of fear of what you may find behind that door!
D proceeded to yell at us, specifically JC; however, I was right next to him and his trusty companion in this three ring circus adventure. She began screaming and throwing in a few obscenities about how we needed to get out of bed as they had been up for over an hour and had packed half of the u-haul! JC said we would be out shortly and she stormed out of the room. JC didn't seemed phased by his older sister of three years, who at this point seemed neither none the smarter or wiser and definitely not nicer! We finished the movie and joined the other's outside. No one was working. No one was packing. It appeared to be break time, a good 30-45 minute break time and that U-haul that was half packed may have been 1/10th packed, if that! But shut my mouth I did.
You see, that day was a very long day. A day surmised by temperatures upwards to 107 degrees, which surprisingly I was the only one that didn't seem to be having an issue with! I suppose that meant that I wasn't working hard enough. We had a couple breaks, where we lounged in the pool behind the house and next to the mother-in-law house.
It quickly became apparent that the large U-haul was not going to fit everything. Decisions had to be made about what would come and what would go. The first part of the U-haul, boxes were stacked and packed. They were not opened, a concern wasn't made about what exactly went into that U-haul. Until the first of the boxes was opened. A box full of...only department store hangers. Upon this realization, we quickly decided that boxes needed to be opened and junk needed to be left behind. Junk and trash that was the livelihood and life of his parents and grandmother. Trash that they felt was worthy and necessary and who were we to judge what wasn't important to them?
Meanwhile, grandma was inside the house having a mental breakdown. She was crying and sobbing and fearing that her personal and valuable possessions weren't going to be packed. Grandma mind you is 86. If you have been reading my posts chronologically, you will recall my relationship with the elderly is not exactly warm and fuzzy. And grandma was the sheer epitome of the elderly that I loathe. The crotchety, haggard, self-absorbed, old-folk that have nothing nice to say to anyone. She yelled. She screamed. She cried. She bellowed. She sobbed. She barked. For many hours, she called a variety of U-haul dealers in attempts to rent another U-haul to be sure that her things made the trip home; however, grandma didn't care how exactly the U-haul was going to drive itself home. Because of the nine people - grandma at 86 who doesn't drive, nephew at 16 who just learned how to drive, mom who doesn't really drive, dad's health which is poor and the reality that there are already four vehicles, the options for drivers was pretty dismal. But mind you, grandma didn't care. Grandma's stuff was going to make it back to Michigan come hell or high water!
I did my best to pack the already packed boxes onto the truck or to hand them to JC. I consolidated when boxes seemed light. I filled drawers with junk boxes which included grandma's second husband's dentures, junk, old business cards, and other miscellaneous objects. The dresser consisted of three drawers of a variety of black elderly shoes - about 22 pairs of them! Mind you, grandma had even more of similar shoes yet to be packed on the U-haul! When we had loaded all of the packed up boxes with the exception of the Aunt's belongings, it was time to start packing up the remainder of the house and surroundings.
I headed into the grandma's room to see what I could complete. A $29.00 valued desk, which included one drawer was against the corner wall. The carpeting against the wall was covered in inches of animal hair and dust, as was the majority of the residence. It was more than disgusting! I opened up the single cupboard door of the desk and found an old edition of a Mesa Arizona Yellow Book, applications for US passports partially filled out and a couple other miscellaneous unimportant papers. I took the applications out to dad and gave them to him as they had vital personal information. The rest, I threw in the garbage. Grandma, managing the situation and barking out orders came into the room and scoured the garbage. She immediately pulled out the Yellow Book and apparently a single page calendar and started yelling about who would throw out her personal belongings and that they were hers and she had to have them! I'm pretty sure I made the woman cry. And, I didn't even feel remotely sad about it. I just wanted her to leave. Leave me alone. Leave the house. Shut up. Quit your bitching and leave us to get the job done. Because her being elderly did not give her permission to be a cantankerous old hag. In my book, she didn't earn that right. No one has.
Grandma left the room, finally on an angry mission to wreak havoc on others. I continued on my mission to finish up her room. On the other wall was a taped up armoire of sorts - the cheap $49 brand new concoction of opening doors which house a rack to hang clothes and then two drawers underneath. The back of armoire was the cardboard backing which you tack on. When we tried to move it, the tacks popped out and the cardboard backing became loose. Grandma was again in hysterics. The cabinet had to be packed! We asked what was in it, and she pulled back some of the tape revealing about a dozen hangered clothes. I offered that I could repack her personal belongings but that there wasn't room for the cabinet. JC and D told her this as well. She began to get really upset and finally agreed to let me repack. I sent the hangered clothes out of the room, which were packed into one of the vehicles. I opened the top drawer to find more shoes and blankets. The bottom drawer, (this is classic) was filled with pants hangers. Grandma began to shriek, "Those are my SPECIAL HANGERS! I have to have them!" Mind you, these hangers were your Class A generic department store pants hangers and there must have been at least 50-100 of them in this drawer alone. Grandma did get some of those damn hangers, about 25 of them, since I promised to pack them but JC made sure she didn't get anymore, and didn't feel she was entitled to even that many!
If I haven't mentioned, grandma also has a dog, as do JC's parents and a cat. Grandma's dog is just like grandma. It's mangy and snarly and sniveling. Nothing was remotely cute about grandma's dog. I suppose what they say is true, pet owners begin to look like their pet.
We stopped to eat lunch about two hours after we started, about 2p.m. our time although we never had breakfast. Mom had been professing about a dozen times about the feast of a meal she had prepared since we were picked up the night before - brats, potato salad, and pasta salad. You would have thought that she had chased down the pig with her bare two hands and sacrificed it with her own flesh and blood in order to feed us. I have to admit that it was good to eat, but I guess that I'm spoiled when it comes to the feeding of others when work is involved.
We worked long into the day. The theme of the day remained about grandma's bitching about having to have the dining room table set and the bedroom suite. The aunt or the nephew could drive the second U-haul back to Michigan but she wasn't leaving her things behind! She continued to make phone call after phone call. Every time I walked through the house and grandma was seated in the front room in a recliner chair she would bellow out at me and ask me what I wanted or what I was looking for. She would order that I was doing something wrong or that I was lifting too much. But thank god she found that Yellow pages in the garbage to continue on her search for a cheap instant U-haul overnight! What grandma did workout between her mental breakdowns was she was trading in her 2004 Intrepid for a 1998 truck that had just had a rebuilt engine installed that would be ready by 10:00a.m. (1:00p.m. Michigan time) the following day.
At that point, I had had ENOUGH. Someone seriously had to put grandma in her place, and I surely wasn't going to be the one! If grandma had to have her stuff, she would be responsible for unpacking her jammed to the gills Intrepid, loading the truck on her own and driving it back to Michigan because I sure as hell wasn't going to sit around until some truck became available by mid-day on Friday when the plan was to be home Sunday night. Hell to the NO. And this, I did share with JC. Apparently, someone must have sedated grandma because that plan never came to fruition. She got everything with the exception of the kitchen table and bedroom suite - which were sold for a couple hundred dollars by the end of the day.
There was also a couple other issues with grandma. The first being that one large box was brought onto the U-haul and a pool of oil formed on the floor of the U-haul which I immediately lost my balance in! We opened the box and found a decorative oil lamp and four glass panels for a curio cabinet. The box had been labeled upright, but apparently it had been tipped. The box was packed with shredded paper, like all of the boxes, clearly not appropriate packing material. We opened the box and tried to determine what to repack the lamp in. I took the glass into the house at which point grandma again went ballistic. She became irate as to why the box had been opened in the first place and carried on. I tried to explain the spillage of oil, but grandma didn't care. Grandma had gone off the deep end and trying to engage in a rational discussion was beyond pointless. Then there was the issue of the mirrors. The mirrors that grandma (you guessed it!) had to have! There were four mirrors that were wall mirrors of various sizes, but all very large. They laid upon the side of the wall in the house. Grandma began to get irate as to what was happening with the mirrors. I informed grandma that the mirrors were going in the RV under the seat cushions for protection. Grandma's response?
What? What did you say? In the CAMPER? Yes, in the camper, under the cushions. Grandma then getting even more angrier, NO they can't go in the CAMPER! They can't go under the cushions! That's where the cat is going!
Yeah right dumb lady, the cat is going under the seat cushions where I will smother it along with you to an untimely death. Seriously, the cat is not going under the seat cushions. The cat does not require the ability and need to sit on cushions that are not on top of mirrors that are being secured for a trek across the country. But, apparently, grandma won as the mirrors ended up in the car we were towing, which was already too low to the ground without anything in it!
Oh and did I mention the other theme of the day? That whenever a tool was needed to fix something, undo something, etc. "it's already packed in the U-haul." The never ending comment. Nothing had been planned for. JC's motto is you have to have the right tool for the right job. This was obviously NOT the case and JC was getting more and more irritated as the day went on.
By early evening, the U-haul was completely packed. JC went to check the lighting on the trailers for the cars to find that none of them were working. The sun was quickly setting. The plan was for everyone but JC and I to stay at a nearby hotel, about 8 miles away. We had the only bed left in the house. Initially it was thought that the family would drive the RV to the hotel since everyone could ride in it, but apparently plans changed as the RV would have to be inspected to be parked in a hotel parking lot, even with permission. So the nephew drove back and forth to the hotel numerous times transporting one person at a time to the hotel.
JC and I had to make a trip to WalMart to purchase a wiring kit for one of the trailers. I was pretty excited as that allowed us to grab snacks and food for the ride as well. We also called and ordered pizza from WalMart that we went to pick up on the way back home. Unfortunately the pizza place we called was not the pizza place we went to! The guy was most fabulous and he called the other store and cancelled our order and made us our order. For the ten minutes we sat outside, watching the now setting sun and drank Bud Light Lime in the solitude of silence away from the cackling and bitching of his family. Alone at last. In peace and quiet. Not in any rush, we took our pizza across the street to an open field, sat on the tailgate of the truck and ate our pizza, shared stories and had a beer. It was by far one of the best parts of the day!
Seeing that the sister was going to be back at the house at 10:30p.m. we finished up and headed back to the house. Needless to say, she didn't come back. She didn't have a way to get back, so she stayed at the hotel - come to find out to gamble and get some much needed R&R. JC on the other hand, with some assistance from his dad, struggled with hooking up the trailer lights without proper tools. Needless to say, this went on for what seemed like hours. It was beyond dark and it was late. He finally got the lights to work enough. We had hooked up one of the vehicles. We were using the truck to pull out the old cars to line them up for quick hookup in the morning so that we could leave at a decent hour. JC and I wanted to leave by 8a.m. our time, 5:00a.m. Arizona time, but the reality of that situation was pretty grim.
The truck was packed with a variety of junk. It was packed with two electric amigos - grandma's and dad's. It had a variety of cement lawn ornaments, the truck tool box was also stocked full of cement yard art - mind you, not a screwdriver in sight! Also in the back of the truck was the cow mailbox and a very large cement light post with a cement man adjacent to the bottom. A wheel chair was also added. We had attempted to strap down the truck to avoid anything flying out of the truck in transit. When JC saw the wheelchair by mid-afternoon in the truck bed he had had it! The wheelchair had to go! He took the wheelchair out of the truck and with the aunt watching and aiding with where to discard it, he headed off behind the back of the garage.
When everyone had left for the hotel, JC decided that we needed to take a break before moving the last trailer and car. I told him we should just get it done and then take a break. By this time it was 1:00a.m. I had tried to line the truck up with the trailer hitch as best as I could by getting in and out of the truck several times. I was pretty impressed, but even an inch off is too far. JC stood at the front of the trailer to direct me, when I heard something remotely similar to, SON OF A BITCH! NO FUCKIN WAY, YOU GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!
At that point, I put the truck in park and jumped out. I had no idea what had happened. I thought I hit the hitch or the trailer wasn't functional, or...I really had no idea!
And what did I see? There in the dark, at the front of the trailer wedged between the trailer and the classic car, but none other than....THE WHEELCHAIR. Somehow the damned wheelchair had been resurrected from it's previous resting place, burried under blankets and hidden behind the garage.
At that point, all I could think of was Chevy Chase's Vacation movie. I was going to put grandma and her stupid dog in that wheelchair, strap them in on top of a car and drive away. I had had enough. I admit that I was at my ultimate boiling point and pretty low. While I would never wish harm on grandma or anyone else, this seemed like the only viable option. And, I honestly didn't care if grandma was alive or not when I strapped her in, as long as she was QUIET! Amazing what 20 hours of constant bitching and nagging, chaos, heat exhaustion, fatigue and 107 degree weather will do to even the most sane of people!
We managed to hook the trailer up and pull the car in place for the next morning. With everything in place, we closed everything up and headed in the house for the evening. We went outside for a quick swim and a beer, but all I really craved was a good shower! I went inside for the shower and we enjoyed the peace and quiet.
It was after 4:30a.m. when we crawled into bed, ready for a night of decent sleep. We knew that we couldn't leave until everyone arrived back at the house, on their timeframe. As we laid in bed, with the ceiling fan on, what did we hear?
GRANDMA'S STUPID DOG.
Grandma's dog was lost without grandma. The damn mutt paced the pergo flooring with a continuous click, click, click. And if that wasn't bad enough, that nasty mutt had a bell, which continuously went tink, tink, tink. And if THAT wasn't bad enough, the dog whined like a bitch in heat, whine, whine, whine. So you put it all together and you have click, tink, whine, click, tink, whine, click, tink, whine... I was going to personally KILL the dog. I didn't care anymore. I NEEDED my sleep and nothing of grandma's belongings, with her out of my sight, was going to keep me from sleep! JC got out of bed and let both dogs outside, at which point they started barking up a storm. You would have thought that we were being robbed by the ruckous they made in the middle of the night! He brought them back in the house where the stupid dog, what was his name? "Changey" or something stupid, I think she named him Change but called him Changey for his nickname. Might as well call him quarter or penny for all I cared! We couldn't console the dog, so we did what we could, turned another fan on, shut the door and hoped to drown out all the noise to get a few hours of sleep for the night.
We could only be thankful that everyone was alive and well. We had survived an entire day of packing up the family. With the hard part out of the way, we were ready in a few short hours to connect all the vehicles to the RV and the truck and pull on out of his parent's residence for the past decade for our Cross Country Adventure. Afterall, the plan was to get home by Sunday evening: 2000 miles later, equivalent to 36 hours of continuous drive time averaging 55mph. We had no plans to get a hotel or stop for an evening. A true adventure this would be!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Cross Country Adventure Day 1 - May 13, 2009
May 13th, surprisingly wasn't a Friday, but in all actuality it was a Wednesday. The Wednesday that I was leaving with JC, his sister and nephew, and his other sister's husband (aka brother-in-law).
As I'm sure I've previously posted, I'm not going to lie and say that I was looking forward to our cross country adventure. JC and I had many discussions, even days prior as to whether or not I would participate, despite having a plane ticket and committing to do so. In the end, I felt that if I backed out of my obligations and commitment of supporting him and helping him that ultimately our relationship would see it's demise. However, if I went, there was still that potential. Afterall, how does a relationship survive a cross country caravan with seven of your boyfriend's immediate family with whom the majority you have never met? How would our relationship survive if just the two of us did it alone?
In the end, I followed through with my commitment. I worked hard at convincing myself, again, that I needed to have an open mind and an open heart to the adventure at hand. That regardless of the lack of communication and planning of the family, it could be possible to leave Bullhead Arizona on a Friday and be back to West Michigan by Sunday evening - with four vehicles, nine people and 2000 miles. It could be possible, right?
I had scheduled a 12:30p.m. dentist appointment for Wednesday, aiding me in leaving work early for the day. Since afterall, the plan was that we would leave after others got out of work at 3p.m. Our flight was out of Detroit at 7:20p.m. and a vehicle had been borrowed and JC's niece would be driving us to the airport. Apparently somewhere in the midst of things, times changed and I was informed the day before that we would be leaving by 2p.m. and I needed to be at JC's house sometime around 1:00p.m. Seeing that JC lives over 20 minutes away, the clarity that I wouldn't be there in time was obvious and I had to reschedule my appointment and still left work at noon.
Seeing that I ordered the tickets online with JC's credit card, I was completely in the loop in regard to our flight information. As we were all carrying on our luggage, I did the email check-in for all of us the night before, alleviating some of the last minute stress, especially if we were going to hit rush hour traffic in Detroit.
Leaving town actually went without difficulty. We had all six of us in the vehicle and were headed to the local gas station by 2:22p.m. Of course, even though I had met all of the family that was flying out west once before, none of them were overly friendly with me. And by overly friendly, I mean that really I wasn't included in any conversations. I sat in the third row of the suburban and kept to myself, taking my son's phone calls and quickly taking a Dramamine to avoid becoming car sick. JC rode in the front seat until everyone was picked up and then he drove to Detroit. We stopped once to grab food on the way, but I didn't eat as I had a late lunch of Subway and a half sub still in my bag.
We made it not only to the airport, but to our gate by 5:30p.m. We had just under two hours to wait for our flight. I brought my portable DVD player, so JC and I watched the great majority of a movie, Smothered, which helped to speed up the time until our departure.
The flight to our layover was pretty uneventful. We had about a 45 minute layover in Texas, where we all grabbed a quick bite to eat. The final leg of the flight was much more turbulent, but also remotely uneventful. We arrived in Las Vegas, early but due to the departing flight still being in the gate, we had to wait. Other than a few minute cat naps, neither JC nor I were able to sleep on the plane. Additionally, it didn't help that Tuesday night I only managed to get a handful of hours of sleep prior to the trip.
In recalling the trip, it's tough to try to deal with the variety of time changes. I'll try to keep everything to Michigan time, just to make sense of it all, although it confuses even me.
We walked through the Las Vegas airport and went to the baggage claim area to meet his awaiting parents. His mother found us first. She gave big hugs to everyone, except me (which I wouldn't necessarily expect on the first meeting - but my mom would have hugged him and thanked him for coming and helping, etc. - but, she wasn't MY MOM.). After hugging everyone, she walked away, and we followed her. Mind you, I have not been introduced or acknowledged. A continuation I felt, of the trip so far. Unwanted, unnoticed, unacknowledged. We then went a small distance where his father had been seated. He stood up and gave everyone hugs. When he was done, JC then introduced me to his parents. After this, we all walked through the airport and to the parking lot to the rental vehicle that would fit all seven of us.
At this point, it was 2:30a.m. back home. We settled in for the 100 mile trek to Bullhead Arizona. I suppose the family thought that they were being nice by taking the two benches and leaving the bucket seats for JC and I. Again, I felt the huge wedge of distance between JC and I and wondered again if I had made a terribly wrong decision to come. If this was just the first night and I was already feeling completely out of place and excluded, how would the next four or potentially more days go?
As I'm sure I've previously posted, I'm not going to lie and say that I was looking forward to our cross country adventure. JC and I had many discussions, even days prior as to whether or not I would participate, despite having a plane ticket and committing to do so. In the end, I felt that if I backed out of my obligations and commitment of supporting him and helping him that ultimately our relationship would see it's demise. However, if I went, there was still that potential. Afterall, how does a relationship survive a cross country caravan with seven of your boyfriend's immediate family with whom the majority you have never met? How would our relationship survive if just the two of us did it alone?
In the end, I followed through with my commitment. I worked hard at convincing myself, again, that I needed to have an open mind and an open heart to the adventure at hand. That regardless of the lack of communication and planning of the family, it could be possible to leave Bullhead Arizona on a Friday and be back to West Michigan by Sunday evening - with four vehicles, nine people and 2000 miles. It could be possible, right?
I had scheduled a 12:30p.m. dentist appointment for Wednesday, aiding me in leaving work early for the day. Since afterall, the plan was that we would leave after others got out of work at 3p.m. Our flight was out of Detroit at 7:20p.m. and a vehicle had been borrowed and JC's niece would be driving us to the airport. Apparently somewhere in the midst of things, times changed and I was informed the day before that we would be leaving by 2p.m. and I needed to be at JC's house sometime around 1:00p.m. Seeing that JC lives over 20 minutes away, the clarity that I wouldn't be there in time was obvious and I had to reschedule my appointment and still left work at noon.
Seeing that I ordered the tickets online with JC's credit card, I was completely in the loop in regard to our flight information. As we were all carrying on our luggage, I did the email check-in for all of us the night before, alleviating some of the last minute stress, especially if we were going to hit rush hour traffic in Detroit.
Leaving town actually went without difficulty. We had all six of us in the vehicle and were headed to the local gas station by 2:22p.m. Of course, even though I had met all of the family that was flying out west once before, none of them were overly friendly with me. And by overly friendly, I mean that really I wasn't included in any conversations. I sat in the third row of the suburban and kept to myself, taking my son's phone calls and quickly taking a Dramamine to avoid becoming car sick. JC rode in the front seat until everyone was picked up and then he drove to Detroit. We stopped once to grab food on the way, but I didn't eat as I had a late lunch of Subway and a half sub still in my bag.
We made it not only to the airport, but to our gate by 5:30p.m. We had just under two hours to wait for our flight. I brought my portable DVD player, so JC and I watched the great majority of a movie, Smothered, which helped to speed up the time until our departure.
The flight to our layover was pretty uneventful. We had about a 45 minute layover in Texas, where we all grabbed a quick bite to eat. The final leg of the flight was much more turbulent, but also remotely uneventful. We arrived in Las Vegas, early but due to the departing flight still being in the gate, we had to wait. Other than a few minute cat naps, neither JC nor I were able to sleep on the plane. Additionally, it didn't help that Tuesday night I only managed to get a handful of hours of sleep prior to the trip.
In recalling the trip, it's tough to try to deal with the variety of time changes. I'll try to keep everything to Michigan time, just to make sense of it all, although it confuses even me.
We walked through the Las Vegas airport and went to the baggage claim area to meet his awaiting parents. His mother found us first. She gave big hugs to everyone, except me (which I wouldn't necessarily expect on the first meeting - but my mom would have hugged him and thanked him for coming and helping, etc. - but, she wasn't MY MOM.). After hugging everyone, she walked away, and we followed her. Mind you, I have not been introduced or acknowledged. A continuation I felt, of the trip so far. Unwanted, unnoticed, unacknowledged. We then went a small distance where his father had been seated. He stood up and gave everyone hugs. When he was done, JC then introduced me to his parents. After this, we all walked through the airport and to the parking lot to the rental vehicle that would fit all seven of us.
At this point, it was 2:30a.m. back home. We settled in for the 100 mile trek to Bullhead Arizona. I suppose the family thought that they were being nice by taking the two benches and leaving the bucket seats for JC and I. Again, I felt the huge wedge of distance between JC and I and wondered again if I had made a terribly wrong decision to come. If this was just the first night and I was already feeling completely out of place and excluded, how would the next four or potentially more days go?
Burning Rubber
My past two posts have actually been working up to blogging about my cross country adventure. I'm still not ready to post about it, maybe the scars are too raw. I feel like with the passing of time, maybe I'll forget about the trip, a distant memory that only myself and the eight others involved will recall - in addition to those that I verbally told of course! Ok, it really wasn't that bad.
Yesterday, was just filled with small bits of humor, that in our fast paced lives, we sometimes forget to slow down and smell the roses. Of course at the time, it wasn't said out of humor, nor was it taken that way, initially that is.
JC came over last night around 7:30p.m. I had gotten home right about 7:00p.m. from taking my son over to his dad's. I had decided several hours earlier that I was going to use the great majority of my childless days this week (all but Tuesday due to visitation with his dad and his first overnight field trip!) to, paint. In my house, I have all but painted one wall which is shared between my living and dining room and my hallway. I'm approaching my decade anniversary of home ownership and it's about time I tackle the difficult areas laced with five windows and trim and a hallway full of seven entries and six doors! No small feat in and of itself.
After I decided I was going to paint, I took down the window valences, the drapes, five sets of blinds and I got to it. I sanded and cleaned all the window frames and floor board trim. Two buckets and four rags later, I washed the wall down from ceiling to floor. I spackled the nail holes. I even purchased the paint.
So when I got home, I used my newly purchased crappy 49 cent paper towel rolls from Menards and cleaned the windows and cleared out the dirt accumulated from the winter between the screen and the windows. I was just finishing up the last window when JC pulled in the driveway. I thought that he would just come in, so I assumed that he was on his cell phone. When I finished I went outside and found him just sitting in his Mustang.
He got out of the car and we hugged. He was leaning against the rear passenger side of the car. We were talking and he was holding me. And with my semi-keen sense of smell, I couldn't get past the smell.
So I did what I do best, I inquired. "Did you vacuum today?" Because, you see, what I smelled was the same smell of burning vacuum belt. Of course his response was, "NO. What???"
I went on to explain and he laughed at me. Not as much as he chuckled later on recalling the incident and my naivete. Again, our differences in our life, circumstances and communication. He went on to explain that the smell I smelled, was that of his burning tires of his Mustang. He apparently was driving pretty fast and was working out some "aggression" which he apparently was unsuccessful.
So the smell of burning rubber tires, to this complete car idiot equated to the smell of a burning vacuum belt. Hmmm....the smells we smell. The lives we lead...how our lives and experiences give us perceptions of completely different realities.
Yesterday, was just filled with small bits of humor, that in our fast paced lives, we sometimes forget to slow down and smell the roses. Of course at the time, it wasn't said out of humor, nor was it taken that way, initially that is.
JC came over last night around 7:30p.m. I had gotten home right about 7:00p.m. from taking my son over to his dad's. I had decided several hours earlier that I was going to use the great majority of my childless days this week (all but Tuesday due to visitation with his dad and his first overnight field trip!) to, paint. In my house, I have all but painted one wall which is shared between my living and dining room and my hallway. I'm approaching my decade anniversary of home ownership and it's about time I tackle the difficult areas laced with five windows and trim and a hallway full of seven entries and six doors! No small feat in and of itself.
After I decided I was going to paint, I took down the window valences, the drapes, five sets of blinds and I got to it. I sanded and cleaned all the window frames and floor board trim. Two buckets and four rags later, I washed the wall down from ceiling to floor. I spackled the nail holes. I even purchased the paint.
So when I got home, I used my newly purchased crappy 49 cent paper towel rolls from Menards and cleaned the windows and cleared out the dirt accumulated from the winter between the screen and the windows. I was just finishing up the last window when JC pulled in the driveway. I thought that he would just come in, so I assumed that he was on his cell phone. When I finished I went outside and found him just sitting in his Mustang.
He got out of the car and we hugged. He was leaning against the rear passenger side of the car. We were talking and he was holding me. And with my semi-keen sense of smell, I couldn't get past the smell.
So I did what I do best, I inquired. "Did you vacuum today?" Because, you see, what I smelled was the same smell of burning vacuum belt. Of course his response was, "NO. What???"
I went on to explain and he laughed at me. Not as much as he chuckled later on recalling the incident and my naivete. Again, our differences in our life, circumstances and communication. He went on to explain that the smell I smelled, was that of his burning tires of his Mustang. He apparently was driving pretty fast and was working out some "aggression" which he apparently was unsuccessful.
So the smell of burning rubber tires, to this complete car idiot equated to the smell of a burning vacuum belt. Hmmm....the smells we smell. The lives we lead...how our lives and experiences give us perceptions of completely different realities.
Grandma
I decided to post a completely separate post about my grandmother - mainly to avoid one very long post. I would name her, but she had one of those rare, one of a kind names that you wouldn't forget, like Big Bertha.
Grandma was a one of a kind woman. She had six children that she raised with her husband in Detroit, Michigan. I don't know at what point that my grandparents divorced, if they ever legally did; but I never remember them together. My grandmother was involved in a severe automobile accident when she was young (likely after all her children) and she suffered serious facial damage. Apparently, my grandmother was a beautiful woman, in her day. After the accident she had a broken nose, broken jaw and serious facial issues. I believe that she had wires put in her face and jaw. Again, this was well before I was ever born, so they are just stories that I have heard over time.
What I did know about my grandmother was that she wore glasses. Large glasses, which were oversized for her petite, 4'10" frame. She may have even been shorter, I just remember she was little. Her glasses were held on her round, aging face by a piece of often yellowing scotch tape. She tried to cover the tape by her heavily banged white bob hair style. She loved to smoke. Long, skinny cigarettes, held by her long, frail, boney fingers which had equally long, real painted nails.
Grandma loved her cigarettes. She loved to come over on Sunday's for dinner and would bring a six pack of Coors beer and her Royal Velvet bag of pennies for penny poker and chain smoke. Grandma would typically clean house and rob me of my vital penny possessions during strange poker games of five card stud, five card draw, blind baseball, etc. Grandma always seemed to make up her own "special rules" that subsequently always worked in her favor! She would drink one or two beers and would always leave before dark. The remaining beers would sit in our refrigerator for months, until she visited again, or until mom decided to cook the god-awful ham with beer. (Mind you, I still am not a fan of ham!)
Grandma drove a brown Reliant K Car. My first car. It had light brown interior. To this day, I will never again own a brown car or a car with similar interior. I believe her subsequent car was a silver convertible, I can't recall the make anymore, maybe a Sunbird. Anyway, Grandma thought she was hot stuff in that car. A car she didn't drive well, as it was too big for her aging body, but it was a nice looking car.
Grandma was also a huge fan of red. She always wore the latest styles. If they weren't popular then, grandma made leggings and oversized sweaters/shirts a fashion statement. She mainly wore red, black and white. If she liked something, she typically had it in all three colors. She also loved stripes. And grandma's hands were always well adorned with about 6 pounds of very large rings that she struggled to hold up on her 90 pound frame in addition to her large beaded red, black or white necklaces.
Grandma was also not a cook. She wasn't that happy go lucky grandmother that everyone dreamed of. The one that loved her grandchildren. The one that laughed and joked and made chocolate chip cookies. Grandma again loved red. Red sauces. Everything grandma made - from her spaghetti, goulash, meat loaf, chili, noodles with sauce - you name it, it was all the same. It was bland and gross. It was overcooked in the small apartment she had that she kept at 102 degrees and it had some form of red sauce.
Every year for our birthday we would get $5.00. Sometimes, she would send gifts. Always very inappropriate. Like the year when I was 10 and my brother was 13 and we received Underroos - I got Wonder Woman and my brother got Superman - four sizes too small! So holidays weren't always well anticipated for receiving of gifts, until we got older and then it was just for a good laugh. But it was clear that grandma had a lot of grandchildren and children and for the most part, everyone received the same thing, or the same value. Not that I expected much from grandma, she did afterall live in one of those stifling senior citizen housing apartments, although she lived alone. She didn't work. We were also frequent recipients of her government cheese and other things she refused to eat.
Grandma passed away in 1995. I was in college and away at a church retreat when I received the call. Grandma had been very ill, plagued with mouth cancer and likely a slew of other medical issues. She was on a feeding tube and her hospital room was my mother's family room. I didn't go home much during those last years. My grandmother was extremely frail. She was unable to talk, other than the uttering of a few words. She wrote messages on her pad of paper, that scribbley due to her frailty and penmanship. She loved her Symphony chocolate bars. I remember always buying them for her, and the horrific mess that they made as the chocolate melted in and out of her mouth. I'm sure it was one of the last tastes she could actually taste, chocolate.
I wish that I had wonderfully warm and cherished memories of my grandmother, of all of my grandparents. I wish that I found the elderly to be endearing and enchanting, a warmth of love and knowledge. Able and willing to share their livelihood and stories with those willing to share an ear, but I don't.
In college, in an attempt to alter my feelings toward the elderly, I did an internship with Adult Services. I found the experience to be rather challenging and initially guilt provoking and somewhat painstaking. I did have several clients that were my favorites. They were the epitome of grandparents, often left abandoned by their families but full of warmth and stories. Always welcoming and willing to engage with me, a listening person. Then of course there were the crotchety, elders that I couldn't get away from quick enough. The ones that had nothing nice to say and felt it was their given right to be mean and nasty, afterall they had lived a hard life and deserved the opportunity to make it hell for everyone else. Never, will I feel that old age gives one the right or prerogative to be mean and nasty, ever. Then there were those in between. The people that were sustaining in life. They had nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for. They often were faced with financial difficulties or health problems that left them in dire conditions. Like the one man that I feared would burn his house down as he choose to heat it with the open door on his oven.
After I graduated college, I interviewed for a position at a nursing home. I was offered the job, which I subsequently refused as I couldn't face working with geriatrics. No matter how much I wanted to embrace the elderly and the history, the fear of death and dying as well as the negativity of haggard elderly was too much for me to handle.
I often wish that I still had grandparents. I envy friends that have grandparents that are still alive. Relationships that relish in love and warmth. I have my own stories of my grandparents, long distance stories, but it would have been nice to have recent ones. Nice that my son would have been able to meet his great grandparents on his maternal side. Fortunately, my son has all of his grandparents, and even great grandparents on his father's side. He has yet to experience death. My mother and step-father are exemplary role models of true grandparents and for that I'm forever grateful, as I'm sure one day looking back on his grandparents, so will my son!
Grandma was a one of a kind woman. She had six children that she raised with her husband in Detroit, Michigan. I don't know at what point that my grandparents divorced, if they ever legally did; but I never remember them together. My grandmother was involved in a severe automobile accident when she was young (likely after all her children) and she suffered serious facial damage. Apparently, my grandmother was a beautiful woman, in her day. After the accident she had a broken nose, broken jaw and serious facial issues. I believe that she had wires put in her face and jaw. Again, this was well before I was ever born, so they are just stories that I have heard over time.
What I did know about my grandmother was that she wore glasses. Large glasses, which were oversized for her petite, 4'10" frame. She may have even been shorter, I just remember she was little. Her glasses were held on her round, aging face by a piece of often yellowing scotch tape. She tried to cover the tape by her heavily banged white bob hair style. She loved to smoke. Long, skinny cigarettes, held by her long, frail, boney fingers which had equally long, real painted nails.
Grandma loved her cigarettes. She loved to come over on Sunday's for dinner and would bring a six pack of Coors beer and her Royal Velvet bag of pennies for penny poker and chain smoke. Grandma would typically clean house and rob me of my vital penny possessions during strange poker games of five card stud, five card draw, blind baseball, etc. Grandma always seemed to make up her own "special rules" that subsequently always worked in her favor! She would drink one or two beers and would always leave before dark. The remaining beers would sit in our refrigerator for months, until she visited again, or until mom decided to cook the god-awful ham with beer. (Mind you, I still am not a fan of ham!)
Grandma drove a brown Reliant K Car. My first car. It had light brown interior. To this day, I will never again own a brown car or a car with similar interior. I believe her subsequent car was a silver convertible, I can't recall the make anymore, maybe a Sunbird. Anyway, Grandma thought she was hot stuff in that car. A car she didn't drive well, as it was too big for her aging body, but it was a nice looking car.
Grandma was also a huge fan of red. She always wore the latest styles. If they weren't popular then, grandma made leggings and oversized sweaters/shirts a fashion statement. She mainly wore red, black and white. If she liked something, she typically had it in all three colors. She also loved stripes. And grandma's hands were always well adorned with about 6 pounds of very large rings that she struggled to hold up on her 90 pound frame in addition to her large beaded red, black or white necklaces.
Grandma was also not a cook. She wasn't that happy go lucky grandmother that everyone dreamed of. The one that loved her grandchildren. The one that laughed and joked and made chocolate chip cookies. Grandma again loved red. Red sauces. Everything grandma made - from her spaghetti, goulash, meat loaf, chili, noodles with sauce - you name it, it was all the same. It was bland and gross. It was overcooked in the small apartment she had that she kept at 102 degrees and it had some form of red sauce.
Every year for our birthday we would get $5.00. Sometimes, she would send gifts. Always very inappropriate. Like the year when I was 10 and my brother was 13 and we received Underroos - I got Wonder Woman and my brother got Superman - four sizes too small! So holidays weren't always well anticipated for receiving of gifts, until we got older and then it was just for a good laugh. But it was clear that grandma had a lot of grandchildren and children and for the most part, everyone received the same thing, or the same value. Not that I expected much from grandma, she did afterall live in one of those stifling senior citizen housing apartments, although she lived alone. She didn't work. We were also frequent recipients of her government cheese and other things she refused to eat.
Grandma passed away in 1995. I was in college and away at a church retreat when I received the call. Grandma had been very ill, plagued with mouth cancer and likely a slew of other medical issues. She was on a feeding tube and her hospital room was my mother's family room. I didn't go home much during those last years. My grandmother was extremely frail. She was unable to talk, other than the uttering of a few words. She wrote messages on her pad of paper, that scribbley due to her frailty and penmanship. She loved her Symphony chocolate bars. I remember always buying them for her, and the horrific mess that they made as the chocolate melted in and out of her mouth. I'm sure it was one of the last tastes she could actually taste, chocolate.
I wish that I had wonderfully warm and cherished memories of my grandmother, of all of my grandparents. I wish that I found the elderly to be endearing and enchanting, a warmth of love and knowledge. Able and willing to share their livelihood and stories with those willing to share an ear, but I don't.
In college, in an attempt to alter my feelings toward the elderly, I did an internship with Adult Services. I found the experience to be rather challenging and initially guilt provoking and somewhat painstaking. I did have several clients that were my favorites. They were the epitome of grandparents, often left abandoned by their families but full of warmth and stories. Always welcoming and willing to engage with me, a listening person. Then of course there were the crotchety, elders that I couldn't get away from quick enough. The ones that had nothing nice to say and felt it was their given right to be mean and nasty, afterall they had lived a hard life and deserved the opportunity to make it hell for everyone else. Never, will I feel that old age gives one the right or prerogative to be mean and nasty, ever. Then there were those in between. The people that were sustaining in life. They had nothing to look forward to, nothing to live for. They often were faced with financial difficulties or health problems that left them in dire conditions. Like the one man that I feared would burn his house down as he choose to heat it with the open door on his oven.
After I graduated college, I interviewed for a position at a nursing home. I was offered the job, which I subsequently refused as I couldn't face working with geriatrics. No matter how much I wanted to embrace the elderly and the history, the fear of death and dying as well as the negativity of haggard elderly was too much for me to handle.
I often wish that I still had grandparents. I envy friends that have grandparents that are still alive. Relationships that relish in love and warmth. I have my own stories of my grandparents, long distance stories, but it would have been nice to have recent ones. Nice that my son would have been able to meet his great grandparents on his maternal side. Fortunately, my son has all of his grandparents, and even great grandparents on his father's side. He has yet to experience death. My mother and step-father are exemplary role models of true grandparents and for that I'm forever grateful, as I'm sure one day looking back on his grandparents, so will my son!
1982
In going back a few years, I've decided to blog about the year where I was mostly seven. I say mostly, because in fact, for all but ten months before I celebrated my eighth birthday, I was seven.
The ironic thing is though, in my mind, when I think back to 1982, I recall being eight, when in fact, I wasn't. But, that's neither here nor there.
I can't recall what grade I was in at the time. It's irrelevant, but I suppose if I went back and calculated it in a matter of seconds I could tell you. To guess, I would have been in 2nd grade. And after calculating, it was the year I finished up 2nd grade and began 3rd grade in the fall.
1982 was a pivotal year, a turning point as you will. Many will say that our lives are forever changed by a single event, a single episode. Something that veers the course of our destined paths. Whether this is true or not, one can only guess. Regardless, it was a year that I will never forget, in whatever existence of those memories that I hold.
I can't tell you exactly what month or when it happened exactly, but I know that it had to have been Spring or Summer of that year. I believe that it was during the midst of softball season, which always began sometime after Spring Break which would have been April/May.
It was a warmer day, which leads me to believe that it was summer. My dad and I had gone out for a bike ride. A bike ride of monumental proportions mind you, as I have never again ridden a bike without recalling that day, EVER. We lived in a subdivision and the back of the subdivision had dirt trails and occasional steep paved hills, one specifically that ended in a T. I was on the trusty, rusty, rickety, Schwinn bike. I believe it was blue and I was scared.
I remember pedalling fast to keep up with my dad. I remember the shake of the bike, the uneasiness I felt with every uneven pedal I made. I remember the trails and the way the bike wavered with every stone and pebble. I remember my shrieks and pleading for my dad to slow down and that I wanted to stop. That I felt like I was going to fall. Terror had taken over. One that I couldn't shake. A terror and fear that likely plagued me for what was to come. We went down that paved steep incline of a road. My bike shaking and the noise vibrating through my ears. My feet pushed backwards on the pedals in attempt to slow the bike down to no avail. At the bottom of the street, I needed to turn left. Left turn in deed, however, I didn't manage to keep control of the bike. I spun out on the loose debris of rocks at the bottom. I smashed hard into the ground. I chipped my front, permanent tooth in half, cut open my lip and had road rash and blood from at least one knee and an elbow. That's what I remember at least.
Crying, I had to continue on home, as we were half way around the subdivision from home. I don't recall my dad's reaction, but I don't remember it being warm, fuzzy and consoling nor do I recall him being extremely angry. I suppose in the recesses of my mind, I recall blaming him for not listening and understanding my fears and he blamed my fears for controlling my behavior and causing the accident.
Back at home, I laid on the couch in our front living room. The living room that was for looks. It wasn't that we couldn't use the living room, we just didn't. It had the stiffer, nicer furniture and it didn't have a television. We used the family room to actually live in. I remember being sprawled out on the couch, icing my aching body, gagging down some form of aspirin when the phone rang.
A call announcing the death of one of my grandparents. I can't tell you which. I don't remember. What I do remember, I lost a grandmother, grandfather and great grandmother when six weeks of each other that year. The year of 1982.
In addition to the loss of relatives, my dad's health and subsequently my parent's marriage took a turn for the worse.
My recollection is that my father suffered his first heart attack. He was 36. In addition, he was diagnosed with diabetes. His health was touch and go for a long time. Or so it seemed, to me. My mom tried to support him and we all had to change the way we ate. We were introduced to skim milk (a huge difference than the .5% we drank - seriously) and No-Salt - the imitation salt that tasted like pellets of aluminum foil. I started drinking Diet Rite - although I think most of the diet modifications may have come years later in all actuality. I also recall telling a teacher, I can't say which one, that my parents were going to divorce. Poor health forever changed my parents lives, our family's life, my life.
My parents remained married until my senior year of high school. My dad's diet fluctuated over the years. My tooth was ultimately fixed and over the years, I've had to have it replaced a few times.
But the reason for my posting, is more to acknowledge the loss of grandparents. Of the three that passed, my great grandmother was my favorite. She taught me how to play cards - Go Fish, War, Old Maid, you name it. I loved cards and I loved my great grandma. My grandfather lived in Illinois so my relationship with him wasn't very strong. I don't have many fond memories. The relationship with my grandmother was of course different than the memories that my aunt and I recently discussed when we saw each other a few years ago. But, again I was seven and she was my grandmother, not my mother. When my grandparents passed, this left me with one grandparent remaining, my maternal grandmother.
And my relationship with my grandmother, has forever molded any relationships that I have had with elderly from that point. Good, bad or indifferent. Sometimes, we try to change our perceptions and make new paths, sometimes with positive results and often times not. Maybe we are destined by the lives we've led, maybe not. But the year of 1982, will forever be a pivotal year in defining who I am.
The ironic thing is though, in my mind, when I think back to 1982, I recall being eight, when in fact, I wasn't. But, that's neither here nor there.
I can't recall what grade I was in at the time. It's irrelevant, but I suppose if I went back and calculated it in a matter of seconds I could tell you. To guess, I would have been in 2nd grade. And after calculating, it was the year I finished up 2nd grade and began 3rd grade in the fall.
1982 was a pivotal year, a turning point as you will. Many will say that our lives are forever changed by a single event, a single episode. Something that veers the course of our destined paths. Whether this is true or not, one can only guess. Regardless, it was a year that I will never forget, in whatever existence of those memories that I hold.
I can't tell you exactly what month or when it happened exactly, but I know that it had to have been Spring or Summer of that year. I believe that it was during the midst of softball season, which always began sometime after Spring Break which would have been April/May.
It was a warmer day, which leads me to believe that it was summer. My dad and I had gone out for a bike ride. A bike ride of monumental proportions mind you, as I have never again ridden a bike without recalling that day, EVER. We lived in a subdivision and the back of the subdivision had dirt trails and occasional steep paved hills, one specifically that ended in a T. I was on the trusty, rusty, rickety, Schwinn bike. I believe it was blue and I was scared.
I remember pedalling fast to keep up with my dad. I remember the shake of the bike, the uneasiness I felt with every uneven pedal I made. I remember the trails and the way the bike wavered with every stone and pebble. I remember my shrieks and pleading for my dad to slow down and that I wanted to stop. That I felt like I was going to fall. Terror had taken over. One that I couldn't shake. A terror and fear that likely plagued me for what was to come. We went down that paved steep incline of a road. My bike shaking and the noise vibrating through my ears. My feet pushed backwards on the pedals in attempt to slow the bike down to no avail. At the bottom of the street, I needed to turn left. Left turn in deed, however, I didn't manage to keep control of the bike. I spun out on the loose debris of rocks at the bottom. I smashed hard into the ground. I chipped my front, permanent tooth in half, cut open my lip and had road rash and blood from at least one knee and an elbow. That's what I remember at least.
Crying, I had to continue on home, as we were half way around the subdivision from home. I don't recall my dad's reaction, but I don't remember it being warm, fuzzy and consoling nor do I recall him being extremely angry. I suppose in the recesses of my mind, I recall blaming him for not listening and understanding my fears and he blamed my fears for controlling my behavior and causing the accident.
Back at home, I laid on the couch in our front living room. The living room that was for looks. It wasn't that we couldn't use the living room, we just didn't. It had the stiffer, nicer furniture and it didn't have a television. We used the family room to actually live in. I remember being sprawled out on the couch, icing my aching body, gagging down some form of aspirin when the phone rang.
A call announcing the death of one of my grandparents. I can't tell you which. I don't remember. What I do remember, I lost a grandmother, grandfather and great grandmother when six weeks of each other that year. The year of 1982.
In addition to the loss of relatives, my dad's health and subsequently my parent's marriage took a turn for the worse.
My recollection is that my father suffered his first heart attack. He was 36. In addition, he was diagnosed with diabetes. His health was touch and go for a long time. Or so it seemed, to me. My mom tried to support him and we all had to change the way we ate. We were introduced to skim milk (a huge difference than the .5% we drank - seriously) and No-Salt - the imitation salt that tasted like pellets of aluminum foil. I started drinking Diet Rite - although I think most of the diet modifications may have come years later in all actuality. I also recall telling a teacher, I can't say which one, that my parents were going to divorce. Poor health forever changed my parents lives, our family's life, my life.
My parents remained married until my senior year of high school. My dad's diet fluctuated over the years. My tooth was ultimately fixed and over the years, I've had to have it replaced a few times.
But the reason for my posting, is more to acknowledge the loss of grandparents. Of the three that passed, my great grandmother was my favorite. She taught me how to play cards - Go Fish, War, Old Maid, you name it. I loved cards and I loved my great grandma. My grandfather lived in Illinois so my relationship with him wasn't very strong. I don't have many fond memories. The relationship with my grandmother was of course different than the memories that my aunt and I recently discussed when we saw each other a few years ago. But, again I was seven and she was my grandmother, not my mother. When my grandparents passed, this left me with one grandparent remaining, my maternal grandmother.
And my relationship with my grandmother, has forever molded any relationships that I have had with elderly from that point. Good, bad or indifferent. Sometimes, we try to change our perceptions and make new paths, sometimes with positive results and often times not. Maybe we are destined by the lives we've led, maybe not. But the year of 1982, will forever be a pivotal year in defining who I am.
Verbage Clarification - Punkeges
It seems like forever since I have once again found myself in front of the keyboard with time to blog. I've had blog ideas swirling around in my head for a while, but still contemplating whether or not I want to have them actually come to fruition or not. So in the meantime...
My boyfriend, JC and I clearly have different modes of communication. We see eye to eye on a lot of things, but others, not so much. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, just different and at times we find ourselves in over our heads. You see, I'm more of an analyzer, a planner, a detail oriented person. Not that education matters, but I mustered by Bachelor's in three years and then have been faced with single parenting for 12 years (despite my 3.5 year stint at one may call matrimony). JC, school isn't his knack (not that I was a fan either by any means!). He's a fixer, a doer, a maker of sorts. He can tinker and get anything to fix. He can dissect, disassemble, reassemble. I can break it and if dad's old adage of duct tape doesn't work, I buy a new one.
I'm often fascinated with things. Like recently I noticed an obnoxious fish mailbox and pointed it out to my son. He of course retorted, "Duh Mom. I showed you that mailbox months ago, remember?" Ummm, No. No, I don't recall EVER seeing that mailbox. Or the new exterior color of the neighbors house - that may have been painted years ago. So for me, I find myself quite entertaining and unique in that so many things appear new and different (my story and I can put a positive spin on it if I want!). JC notices everything. He notices houses, roads, animals, cars, everything that I don't. On the other hand, I am a stickler for detail and analyzing on paper or in words. I can remember conversations, emails, etc. precisely (as long as it isn't a book or a movie).
My point being, this often causes communication issues with JC. He doesn't recall or hear things that I tell him, I of course remembering it all and tire of the repetitive nature of repeating. We also agree that we speak differently. We use different words, which happen to cause issues since I take words at face value, black and white. I don't assume, I don't read into them and often JC's word choices aren't exactly what he means, but he struggles with the exact expression.
Last night I found myself laughing at loud, with him. Which in the scheme of things, was much needed as we have forgotten how to joke and have fun as of late. We were discussing past racing events we have attended and he mentioned one where people were throwing out pumpkins from the race cars making a mess on the track.
He then said, "There was punkeges (pronounced PUNK EH JEZ) everywhere!"
What? "What in the world are punkeges?" Mind you it wasn't pumpkineges, it was punkeges.
He went on to explain that gross stuff from the inside of the punkin is punkeges. I said, you mean the guts and the seeds of the pumpkin?
Yes, punkeges it is!
My boyfriend, JC and I clearly have different modes of communication. We see eye to eye on a lot of things, but others, not so much. Not that this is necessarily a bad thing, just different and at times we find ourselves in over our heads. You see, I'm more of an analyzer, a planner, a detail oriented person. Not that education matters, but I mustered by Bachelor's in three years and then have been faced with single parenting for 12 years (despite my 3.5 year stint at one may call matrimony). JC, school isn't his knack (not that I was a fan either by any means!). He's a fixer, a doer, a maker of sorts. He can tinker and get anything to fix. He can dissect, disassemble, reassemble. I can break it and if dad's old adage of duct tape doesn't work, I buy a new one.
I'm often fascinated with things. Like recently I noticed an obnoxious fish mailbox and pointed it out to my son. He of course retorted, "Duh Mom. I showed you that mailbox months ago, remember?" Ummm, No. No, I don't recall EVER seeing that mailbox. Or the new exterior color of the neighbors house - that may have been painted years ago. So for me, I find myself quite entertaining and unique in that so many things appear new and different (my story and I can put a positive spin on it if I want!). JC notices everything. He notices houses, roads, animals, cars, everything that I don't. On the other hand, I am a stickler for detail and analyzing on paper or in words. I can remember conversations, emails, etc. precisely (as long as it isn't a book or a movie).
My point being, this often causes communication issues with JC. He doesn't recall or hear things that I tell him, I of course remembering it all and tire of the repetitive nature of repeating. We also agree that we speak differently. We use different words, which happen to cause issues since I take words at face value, black and white. I don't assume, I don't read into them and often JC's word choices aren't exactly what he means, but he struggles with the exact expression.
Last night I found myself laughing at loud, with him. Which in the scheme of things, was much needed as we have forgotten how to joke and have fun as of late. We were discussing past racing events we have attended and he mentioned one where people were throwing out pumpkins from the race cars making a mess on the track.
He then said, "There was punkeges (pronounced PUNK EH JEZ) everywhere!"
What? "What in the world are punkeges?" Mind you it wasn't pumpkineges, it was punkeges.
He went on to explain that gross stuff from the inside of the punkin is punkeges. I said, you mean the guts and the seeds of the pumpkin?
Yes, punkeges it is!
Monday, May 18, 2009
Misc. Update
I've survived my cross country caravan adventure. I lived to blog about it, just not tonight. We made it back home as hoped, Sunday, although I spent the next 18 hours, with the exception of about 1.5 hours in bed. Not that I was that exhausted initially, but once we got in bed, motivation was minimal and in bed we stayed. Fortunately, I had already told my boss I would be using a sick day, so I called in to verify.
I'm finding that today I have a very short fuse. I think it's from spending four days with people that I didn't know that were less than pleasant. I think I've managed to become like them. Or maybe exhaustion has encompassed me, regardless of my incessant sleeping over the past 24 hours. Hard to tell. But I managed during my waking hour this morning to curse at the television at the parents who made excuses for their overweight children on the Tyra Banks Show. And, I would say that "curse" is probably a slight under-exaggeration.
I went to a meeting for my son's upcoming program this evening. I found everything irritating about the way that the meeting was set up, mainly due to my lack of time that I could attend the meeting and for the "Leaders" lack of leadership and organization. Needless to say, I arrived at the meeting 10 minutes early and by 21 minutes after the start time, the meeting had yet to begin and I had to leave. Fortunately JA promised to take great notes in my absence, assuming she managed to stay awake.
I've managed to not blog about baseball much this year. My son is still in the full swing of Little League. His team was tied for 4th place as of this evening and again, I blame poor coaching for several of their losses. Regardless, I'm trying to direct my "issues" of baseball elsewhere, rather than to my four infrequent readers! Tonight, they finished in a tie to the second place team. They should have won, as they led by two runs going into what should have been the last inning. Needless to say, poor coaching led to another inning and they ended up in a tie. Sigh...
On the job front, I was offered and accepted the new position which I interviewed. I've already received several messages from people in regards to the new position, which I have absolutely no idea how to answer. Additionally, I was gone for three and a half days and I will be in a non-related job training for the next three days. I love looking completely ineffective, so much for learning the position before having to field calls. I guess I should get used to it, and quick! JN my great friend that didn't get the job had an interview the following day elsewhere. She was offered and accepted a position the day after her interview. She is jumping ship and leaving our office. I can't help but feel selfish as to how her leaving will affect me and affect our relationship. I will truly miss her and can't imagine how, even with a new job, my work environment will be without her. Of course I wish her the best, but I wish that she would stay!
On the relationship front, JC and I are still dating. While I think this surprises my mom to the utmost, we survived our travels and are still more than friends. We joked about getting hitched in Vegas, of course I told him only on two conditions: It must be a drive-thru chapel with a singing Elvis to wed us. I'm guessing he figured that was unattainable since the conversation dropped after that, for one we didn't have transportation to get back to Vegas nor did we have the time!
I'm finding that today I have a very short fuse. I think it's from spending four days with people that I didn't know that were less than pleasant. I think I've managed to become like them. Or maybe exhaustion has encompassed me, regardless of my incessant sleeping over the past 24 hours. Hard to tell. But I managed during my waking hour this morning to curse at the television at the parents who made excuses for their overweight children on the Tyra Banks Show. And, I would say that "curse" is probably a slight under-exaggeration.
I went to a meeting for my son's upcoming program this evening. I found everything irritating about the way that the meeting was set up, mainly due to my lack of time that I could attend the meeting and for the "Leaders" lack of leadership and organization. Needless to say, I arrived at the meeting 10 minutes early and by 21 minutes after the start time, the meeting had yet to begin and I had to leave. Fortunately JA promised to take great notes in my absence, assuming she managed to stay awake.
I've managed to not blog about baseball much this year. My son is still in the full swing of Little League. His team was tied for 4th place as of this evening and again, I blame poor coaching for several of their losses. Regardless, I'm trying to direct my "issues" of baseball elsewhere, rather than to my four infrequent readers! Tonight, they finished in a tie to the second place team. They should have won, as they led by two runs going into what should have been the last inning. Needless to say, poor coaching led to another inning and they ended up in a tie. Sigh...
On the job front, I was offered and accepted the new position which I interviewed. I've already received several messages from people in regards to the new position, which I have absolutely no idea how to answer. Additionally, I was gone for three and a half days and I will be in a non-related job training for the next three days. I love looking completely ineffective, so much for learning the position before having to field calls. I guess I should get used to it, and quick! JN my great friend that didn't get the job had an interview the following day elsewhere. She was offered and accepted a position the day after her interview. She is jumping ship and leaving our office. I can't help but feel selfish as to how her leaving will affect me and affect our relationship. I will truly miss her and can't imagine how, even with a new job, my work environment will be without her. Of course I wish her the best, but I wish that she would stay!
On the relationship front, JC and I are still dating. While I think this surprises my mom to the utmost, we survived our travels and are still more than friends. We joked about getting hitched in Vegas, of course I told him only on two conditions: It must be a drive-thru chapel with a singing Elvis to wed us. I'm guessing he figured that was unattainable since the conversation dropped after that, for one we didn't have transportation to get back to Vegas nor did we have the time!
Friday, May 8, 2009
Cross Country Countdown
In less than a week, I will be getting in a vehicle with four of JC's family members to drive across Michigan to board a plane to Las Vegas. That is just the beginning of our cross country adventure. From Vegas, the five of us will be picked up by his father for the 100 mile trek to the parental home which will soon be left behind. Left to foreclosure or some other means, but a distant past for his parents as they venture back to the life and family they left behind in Michigan 15 years ago.
I have no idea what this trip will have in store. It will be a test of wills. It will be stressful. It will be hot, sticky, clammy, cold. We will be short fused, caustic, sarcastic and irritable. I hope that there will be happy moments, funny moments, memories shared and memories made.
Promises of packing done have been made. Offers of one day of packing have been made before hitting the road for the cross country caravan adventure, some 2000 miles away. There will be four vehicles, eight potential drivers. The vehicles include a U-haul with trailer, RV with trailer and two other smaller vehicles - van/truck or car assortments. JC and I will have the U-haul.
Last night JC shared with me that his sister will be getting a hotel the night before we leave. She will be reuniting with an old classmate friend she hasn't seen in almost 20 years. She will be coming back to the house the following morning to leave. Needless to say, I was pissed! For the first time he supported his sister stating that she is an adult and what she does is her business and only affects her. WHAT?
Was he serious? Did he truly believe that? That his sister's partying and staying out late, potentially being hungover wouldn't affect all of us? Does he not get what caravanning across the country means? That what she does and her actions impact and affect us all? Despite me saying that to him, it fell on deaf ears. He is completely oblivious.
Maybe it's my growing up and cross country vacation experiences that leave me knowledgeable about this upcoming trip. Maybe it's my need to be realistic and grounded; to not live in the fog of myself and only myself. JC has set his goals on getting home by the night of the third day. That's all he's focusing on. Not the reality that car problems, missed exits, closed roads, bathroom breaks, meal stops, age and fatigue all affect the trip and his ability to get home.
Initially I had thought that the adventure was 2200 miles and averaging 60 mph would take approximately 36 hours. That we would need to drive 12 hours per day to get home in the late evening of Day 3, as the 12 hours wouldn't include food, gas, resting or any other unforeseen delay. Fortunately, I was wrong. Today, when I yahoo mapped out their specific location, it appears that the trip is 1968 miles and 28.5 hours, of course that doesn't include the convoy of large vehicles driving less than the average speed limit, but still, much improved from my initially thought drive time.
I'm in the dark as to the departure time. I would like for it to be early in the morning to take advantage of the first day, which should be the longest while we still have energy! Then again, we can't leave until his sister arrives. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, maybe she is an early riser and doesn't drink. Having only met her once, unfortunately I know one is false and the other is likely not true either.
I can only hope that little Guardian Angel's are watching over us on this trek that we all make it safe and sound and in one piece! To new adventures...
I have no idea what this trip will have in store. It will be a test of wills. It will be stressful. It will be hot, sticky, clammy, cold. We will be short fused, caustic, sarcastic and irritable. I hope that there will be happy moments, funny moments, memories shared and memories made.
Promises of packing done have been made. Offers of one day of packing have been made before hitting the road for the cross country caravan adventure, some 2000 miles away. There will be four vehicles, eight potential drivers. The vehicles include a U-haul with trailer, RV with trailer and two other smaller vehicles - van/truck or car assortments. JC and I will have the U-haul.
Last night JC shared with me that his sister will be getting a hotel the night before we leave. She will be reuniting with an old classmate friend she hasn't seen in almost 20 years. She will be coming back to the house the following morning to leave. Needless to say, I was pissed! For the first time he supported his sister stating that she is an adult and what she does is her business and only affects her. WHAT?
Was he serious? Did he truly believe that? That his sister's partying and staying out late, potentially being hungover wouldn't affect all of us? Does he not get what caravanning across the country means? That what she does and her actions impact and affect us all? Despite me saying that to him, it fell on deaf ears. He is completely oblivious.
Maybe it's my growing up and cross country vacation experiences that leave me knowledgeable about this upcoming trip. Maybe it's my need to be realistic and grounded; to not live in the fog of myself and only myself. JC has set his goals on getting home by the night of the third day. That's all he's focusing on. Not the reality that car problems, missed exits, closed roads, bathroom breaks, meal stops, age and fatigue all affect the trip and his ability to get home.
Initially I had thought that the adventure was 2200 miles and averaging 60 mph would take approximately 36 hours. That we would need to drive 12 hours per day to get home in the late evening of Day 3, as the 12 hours wouldn't include food, gas, resting or any other unforeseen delay. Fortunately, I was wrong. Today, when I yahoo mapped out their specific location, it appears that the trip is 1968 miles and 28.5 hours, of course that doesn't include the convoy of large vehicles driving less than the average speed limit, but still, much improved from my initially thought drive time.
I'm in the dark as to the departure time. I would like for it to be early in the morning to take advantage of the first day, which should be the longest while we still have energy! Then again, we can't leave until his sister arrives. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, maybe she is an early riser and doesn't drink. Having only met her once, unfortunately I know one is false and the other is likely not true either.
I can only hope that little Guardian Angel's are watching over us on this trek that we all make it safe and sound and in one piece! To new adventures...
Interview
Yesterday I had my first interview, in well a couple years. I'm truly not a fan of interviews and there are seldom jobs that I have enough interest in even applying for. If I feel that I'm not qualified or not interested enough, I don't apply.
The job is an internal position and one that I've considered an option for a job change over the last few years. The past two times the job was available, the vacancy was never posted. My employer interviews using Behavioral Based Interviewing (BBI). The last interview I did which was BBI, I massacred the interview so well, I was afraid to return back to my office or show my face! The BBI interview uses the STAR format Situation/Task, Action, Result. For every question you have to answer by explaining a situation or task, the action that you used and the result. This form of interviewing is very impersonal and doesn't allow for candid conversation or expression. Needless to say, I struggled like a fish out of water, gasping, flapping, humiliated...the constant repeating of the process and how I was suppose to respond with the repeating of the question was just additional salt in each sweaty porous vein of my being. I can't recall anything much worse, regardless of all the worse things I've experienced, none that were so incomprehensible, downright failure with the only light at the end of the tunnel was that I was able to slither out of the interview room with my head hung low, only to confirm that the position that was slated for another was confirmed by my disastrous attempt to interview.
So years later, I found myself applying for another position. I wish that I could say that I was stronger and wiser and ready to tackle BBI head on. I did do some internet searching and watched a video demonstration of the interviewing examples and skills. Regardless, that cold prickly feeling on my skin, the ball in my throat and the increasing rise of my previous meal climbing upward to present itself in different form could not be alleviated. But somethings, just have to be done. I can't always shy away from my fears and if it's something that you want, sitting back and doing nothing isn't going to get it.
Fortunately, I learned that the interview would include only the top three high seniority candidates. Additionally, the interview process would not be BBI! But, the interviews were scheduled 20 minutes apart, clearly giving the impression that the person for the position had already been chosen and the interviews were merely a formality, a politically correct way of going through the motions to later say, "Thanks, but no thanks..."
The interview included one question (although several follow up questions were asked): Explain in 15 minutes why you want the job and why you are the best candidate?
Easy enough. And honestly, it really was. The most awkward part of the interview, I was sitting on the other side of a desk (In the Managers chair) while the panel of three management looked at me!
I finished the interview. I survived. I gave it my all and it's out of my hands. If someone else is the better candidate, so be it! That I can live with!
The job is an internal position and one that I've considered an option for a job change over the last few years. The past two times the job was available, the vacancy was never posted. My employer interviews using Behavioral Based Interviewing (BBI). The last interview I did which was BBI, I massacred the interview so well, I was afraid to return back to my office or show my face! The BBI interview uses the STAR format Situation/Task, Action, Result. For every question you have to answer by explaining a situation or task, the action that you used and the result. This form of interviewing is very impersonal and doesn't allow for candid conversation or expression. Needless to say, I struggled like a fish out of water, gasping, flapping, humiliated...the constant repeating of the process and how I was suppose to respond with the repeating of the question was just additional salt in each sweaty porous vein of my being. I can't recall anything much worse, regardless of all the worse things I've experienced, none that were so incomprehensible, downright failure with the only light at the end of the tunnel was that I was able to slither out of the interview room with my head hung low, only to confirm that the position that was slated for another was confirmed by my disastrous attempt to interview.
So years later, I found myself applying for another position. I wish that I could say that I was stronger and wiser and ready to tackle BBI head on. I did do some internet searching and watched a video demonstration of the interviewing examples and skills. Regardless, that cold prickly feeling on my skin, the ball in my throat and the increasing rise of my previous meal climbing upward to present itself in different form could not be alleviated. But somethings, just have to be done. I can't always shy away from my fears and if it's something that you want, sitting back and doing nothing isn't going to get it.
Fortunately, I learned that the interview would include only the top three high seniority candidates. Additionally, the interview process would not be BBI! But, the interviews were scheduled 20 minutes apart, clearly giving the impression that the person for the position had already been chosen and the interviews were merely a formality, a politically correct way of going through the motions to later say, "Thanks, but no thanks..."
The interview included one question (although several follow up questions were asked): Explain in 15 minutes why you want the job and why you are the best candidate?
Easy enough. And honestly, it really was. The most awkward part of the interview, I was sitting on the other side of a desk (In the Managers chair) while the panel of three management looked at me!
I finished the interview. I survived. I gave it my all and it's out of my hands. If someone else is the better candidate, so be it! That I can live with!
Movie Reviews
I've actually increased my movie watching as of late. I had debated canceling my Blockbuster online membership, but mainly out of being lazy and the cost of one movie rental of $4.99, I've kept it.
I can't say that I've watched any fabulous movies. Quite the contrary, with an array of mediocre movies. Movies which included The Last Word, Poker Night, and Swing Vote.
I just rented Doubt and Benjamin Button. I can't imagine when I'll find the 2 hours and 45 minutes to watch Benjamin Button, but I'll surely try.
Last night we watched Hotel for Dogs. I recall seeing the previews before it came to the theater and thought it looked cute, but with time passing since then I was since dreading another animated or worse yet talking animal movie.
Therefore, I was more than pleasantly surprised. We all enjoyed the movie. There were MANY times that we were all laughing out loud, which was much needed from my recent stresses! Two paws up from these viewers!
I can't say that I've watched any fabulous movies. Quite the contrary, with an array of mediocre movies. Movies which included The Last Word, Poker Night, and Swing Vote.
I just rented Doubt and Benjamin Button. I can't imagine when I'll find the 2 hours and 45 minutes to watch Benjamin Button, but I'll surely try.
Last night we watched Hotel for Dogs. I recall seeing the previews before it came to the theater and thought it looked cute, but with time passing since then I was since dreading another animated or worse yet talking animal movie.
Therefore, I was more than pleasantly surprised. We all enjoyed the movie. There were MANY times that we were all laughing out loud, which was much needed from my recent stresses! Two paws up from these viewers!
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Uplifting
On a positive note, I managed to get through the pack of information yesterday for Friend of the Court in monumental time and even put it in the mail. Good Riddance. I did not allow it to consume my thoughts or fears or increase my anxiety anymore than absolutely necessary. It's out of my hands.
Even more promising, uplifting and rewarding...The funnel cake stand...has peanut butter chips and made me the Reese's peanut butter funnel cake!
When life gives you lemons, some make lemonade. When life hands me a curve ball - I eat peanut butter and chocolate! Ah...what a life!
Even more promising, uplifting and rewarding...The funnel cake stand...has peanut butter chips and made me the Reese's peanut butter funnel cake!
When life gives you lemons, some make lemonade. When life hands me a curve ball - I eat peanut butter and chocolate! Ah...what a life!
Bang It!
Yesterday I decided I might use my flat iron on my hair. It isn't often that I venture enough to do so, only because with my thick, coarse and occasionally unruly hair, I don't have the time or the patience to use a flat iron in the morning. Specifically when I manage to jump in the shower, get dressed, grab breakfast and lunch and am in the car in less than 30 minutes.
Regardless, when I went to use my flat iron, it was cold. Cold as can be; however, the red "on" light was lit. Not having the time to deal with it, I unplugged it and continued to use my curling iron that was hot instead.
Today, I decided to yet again try the flat iron. The light lit and it wasn't making the usual hum nor was it getting warm.
So I did the only thing I could think of at that fleeting moment, I banged the iron together. I was greeted with that often annoying, incessant, low vibrating hum.
The moral of the story...if it doesn't work, isn't working or just isn't getting warmed up...BANG IT!
(Disclaimer: I am in no means responsible for any repercussions that may occur in your relationship/marriage or any other means that may be negatively affected by this advice!)
Regardless, when I went to use my flat iron, it was cold. Cold as can be; however, the red "on" light was lit. Not having the time to deal with it, I unplugged it and continued to use my curling iron that was hot instead.
Today, I decided to yet again try the flat iron. The light lit and it wasn't making the usual hum nor was it getting warm.
So I did the only thing I could think of at that fleeting moment, I banged the iron together. I was greeted with that often annoying, incessant, low vibrating hum.
The moral of the story...if it doesn't work, isn't working or just isn't getting warmed up...BANG IT!
(Disclaimer: I am in no means responsible for any repercussions that may occur in your relationship/marriage or any other means that may be negatively affected by this advice!)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Tulip Time '09 Various Pictures
Holland 2009 Tulip Time Poster:
One of Holland's many Tulip Lanes:
These trees are my favorite:
Tulips:
Celebration 5/2/09 at Kollen Park:
Klompen Dancers 5/2/09:
Lake Macatawa:
Art in the Park, Centennial Park 5/3/09:
ABC Cakes & Other Vendors:
Klompen Dancers 5/3/09:
Fountain in Centennial Park:
Bavarian Creme Funnel Cake:
Financial Three's
If things happen in threes, I truly hope that the third financial hit isn't brutal. There is no question that the economy is in dire straits. People are losing their jobs left and right, and I'm truly blessed to still be employed. Today we learned that our employer will be closed for six days through the end of September. Six days of unpaid, yet to be determined days, which from my calculations is equivalent to about a 4% cut in pay, which won't be equally dispersed but in eight hour increments a pay period over the next five months. Yes, it could be worse, I truly am thankful. Truly.
Then there is the issue of child support. I decided to leave it up to the other half to determine whether or not to have the matter reviewed. Apparently, it's up for the three year "optional" review (although it's only been reviewed ONCE in the past 11 years at MY request!). Today I received the packet in the mail that he wants it reviewed. I can't imagine that it won't be in my favor, but regardless financial situations get me a LOT worked up. Seeing that the average cost of living raise is 3% per year and I think in the past three years I may have an accumulated 3% raise, I shouldn't be worried. I am though. Because, that is what I do best.
Besides, Friend of the Court is NEVER in my favor. EVER. Even when it appears that they are, they aren't. They always realize afterward that a MISTAKE has been made.
I can't keep going through this. It's downright painful. Childcare is no longer an issue. The other half and I share joint custody, but there isn't anything "joint" financial about it. But FOC doesn't care. They don't care that he has field trip fees, camp fees, lunch boxes, winter coats and boots, sport recreation fees, a passport fee, tennis lessons, summer program fees, you name it. Anything that should be split "jointly" as part of the "joint custody" arrangement is mine solely. That's not to say that one out of four sports fees I may convince him to cover, that I've managed to get him to do over the past three years. He has even shaved his head a few times over the past few years - only to prove that if I don't want his head shaved I should get it cut more often!
Last year I was fortunate enough, or as it may be now, unfortunate enough to have some overtime. It was a one time occurrence to compensate for me working out of town and coming in on the weekends to catch up on my permanent work. Now, that will likely come back to hurt me as my W2 is required.
I guess whatever is meant to happen will happen. Afterall the other half threatened he would be unemployed by the beginning of the year as he is an automotive designer. Maybe it will all work out better than I am anticipating. Afterall my insurance premiums have risen over the past three years and my wages really haven't. As long as he's still employed, maybe for once, it will be in my benefit.
Pigs can fly, right? The swine flu virus is airborne, so that's kind of the same thing, right? Yeah, my thought exactly.
Then there is the issue of child support. I decided to leave it up to the other half to determine whether or not to have the matter reviewed. Apparently, it's up for the three year "optional" review (although it's only been reviewed ONCE in the past 11 years at MY request!). Today I received the packet in the mail that he wants it reviewed. I can't imagine that it won't be in my favor, but regardless financial situations get me a LOT worked up. Seeing that the average cost of living raise is 3% per year and I think in the past three years I may have an accumulated 3% raise, I shouldn't be worried. I am though. Because, that is what I do best.
Besides, Friend of the Court is NEVER in my favor. EVER. Even when it appears that they are, they aren't. They always realize afterward that a MISTAKE has been made.
I can't keep going through this. It's downright painful. Childcare is no longer an issue. The other half and I share joint custody, but there isn't anything "joint" financial about it. But FOC doesn't care. They don't care that he has field trip fees, camp fees, lunch boxes, winter coats and boots, sport recreation fees, a passport fee, tennis lessons, summer program fees, you name it. Anything that should be split "jointly" as part of the "joint custody" arrangement is mine solely. That's not to say that one out of four sports fees I may convince him to cover, that I've managed to get him to do over the past three years. He has even shaved his head a few times over the past few years - only to prove that if I don't want his head shaved I should get it cut more often!
Last year I was fortunate enough, or as it may be now, unfortunate enough to have some overtime. It was a one time occurrence to compensate for me working out of town and coming in on the weekends to catch up on my permanent work. Now, that will likely come back to hurt me as my W2 is required.
I guess whatever is meant to happen will happen. Afterall the other half threatened he would be unemployed by the beginning of the year as he is an automotive designer. Maybe it will all work out better than I am anticipating. Afterall my insurance premiums have risen over the past three years and my wages really haven't. As long as he's still employed, maybe for once, it will be in my benefit.
Pigs can fly, right? The swine flu virus is airborne, so that's kind of the same thing, right? Yeah, my thought exactly.
Love, Sex & the IRS
On Sunday, I surprised JC with tickets to the comedic drama of Love, Sex and the IRS. I had received information about the play and was definitely interested in checking it out. Then on Saturday I had heard the show received rave reviews and was hysterically funny. I'm all about a good laugh, so I purchased two tickets.
Sunday couldn't have been a more beautiful day. We headed to the theater, where we were entertained. I overheard someone behind us on the way out commenting about how their sides hurt from laughing so hard. While we shared laughs, I wouldn't go that far! I even found toward the end of the show that I was becoming tired and couldn't wait for the show to be over. Maybe it had something to do with the lighting, the confinement of the small theater or the dwindling storyline. Regardless, it was entertaining and a first for JC and I.
After the theater, we walked around the park and then went to the New Holland Brewery. It wasn't that long ago that you couldn't enjoy a beer in Holland on a Sunday. It was a fabulous Sunday afternoon to enjoy a delicious Berry Cider.
Sunday couldn't have been a more beautiful day. We headed to the theater, where we were entertained. I overheard someone behind us on the way out commenting about how their sides hurt from laughing so hard. While we shared laughs, I wouldn't go that far! I even found toward the end of the show that I was becoming tired and couldn't wait for the show to be over. Maybe it had something to do with the lighting, the confinement of the small theater or the dwindling storyline. Regardless, it was entertaining and a first for JC and I.
After the theater, we walked around the park and then went to the New Holland Brewery. It wasn't that long ago that you couldn't enjoy a beer in Holland on a Sunday. It was a fabulous Sunday afternoon to enjoy a delicious Berry Cider.
Tulip Time '09
The weekend went well, partaking in some Tulip Time festivities. My mom and her friend made it into town by early afternoon on Friday. By early evening we headed downtown for the first of the Celebration and enjoyed a very inexpensive picnic dinner of $2.00 - hot dog, pasta salad, bag of kettle chips, vitamin water, double tree cookies and hudsonville ice cream.
We were able to see the Klompen dancers and I hope to post pictures soon. We left the park and headed downtown to enjoy a few drinks and appetizers. Unfortunately we missed the fireworks waiting for our bill.
Saturday we visited Art in the Park at Centennial Park. Kinderplaats for the children was taking place near Window on the Waterfront. The trolley rides were booking fast, so mom and her friend weren't able to participate. The weather couldn't have been nicer and it was a good time had by all! As a must, we hit the funnel cake vendor to enjoy the bavarian cream cake, although the reeses funnel cake is by far my favorite. The vendors thought by the end of the week they may have the ingredients to make them, but I'm highly contemplating bringing my own peanut butter chips for them to use for me. I'd even be willing to donate the remainder for others to enjoy!
We were able to see the Klompen dancers and I hope to post pictures soon. We left the park and headed downtown to enjoy a few drinks and appetizers. Unfortunately we missed the fireworks waiting for our bill.
Saturday we visited Art in the Park at Centennial Park. Kinderplaats for the children was taking place near Window on the Waterfront. The trolley rides were booking fast, so mom and her friend weren't able to participate. The weather couldn't have been nicer and it was a good time had by all! As a must, we hit the funnel cake vendor to enjoy the bavarian cream cake, although the reeses funnel cake is by far my favorite. The vendors thought by the end of the week they may have the ingredients to make them, but I'm highly contemplating bringing my own peanut butter chips for them to use for me. I'd even be willing to donate the remainder for others to enjoy!
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