A year end retrospective.... and a funny about Err getting told...

I spent the day with WM yesterday. With the holidays at her shop, she only winds up having one day a week off (good thing she's in awesome shape)and I wind up with many weeks of no days off. One of the reasons I work at the shop is to get to spend some time with her. And time working retail at Christmas...is way better than no time at all (and friends.. this should tell you A LOT about how special this lady is).

****And can I just say... and this is totally unrelated.... that my mama is the ONLY person on the planet who can reduce my imightjustwhoopyourass self to a stuttering 12 year old. Having had my fill of entitled Chanel bag carrying* women who pushed past me and walked into me, I turned around and told some woman that I was NOT holding the door for her and I sure wasn't holding it for her so she could light up a smoke in my face. My mother dressed me down and handed me a serving of home training right there in front of everyone like I was 8. Something along the lines of 'just because she had no manners doesn't mean YOU can act like you don't....' Left me stammering about, "mama...ok mama...jeeze mama...."
heh.****


Anyway. We always have good talks. This time, one of our talks centered on one of her friends. This woman lost her parents at early ages, lost her husband in his early thirties and has remained single. But she's got a really good job for a high school grad from my neighborhood, and by staying on that grind, she's been able to pay off her house (in a much lower crime, high rent-type district). However, this is one of the most unhappy people I've ever met. Instead of being grateful that she's able to support herself, keep her home, etc she always bitterly reminds you that she's worked for every bit of it. No body helped her. She's bitter that my mom has a husband. (although she doesn't want to re-marry...which i get) She's bitter that she has a daughter (although she doesn't want children...which i also get). She's even more bitter about the way that we dote on my mom, the fancy presents we buy her, how we make time to go places with her. She's bitter about the lack of activities in her life, but she doesn't want to make friends because she doesn't like a lot of people. You get the idea, I'm sure.

I told my mom, "I think she's just made up her mind she's going to be unhappy."
And isn't that a sad state of affairs?

It got me thinking about my own life and my own choices and the people I choose to spend my time with.

Its no secret that I go to great length to weed out the bullshit from my life. Its not difficult for me to just walk away from people and spaces that aren't working for me. Often, these spaces might be positive for others, but not for me. I'm into how people talk. How they use language to position themselves (I understand I might be a little hypercritical about such things, but its what I do...and doesn't someone need to be a little overly sensitive if the vast majority takes their words for granted?). If I don't like what I hear, I bounce. I don't want to spend my time being continually put off by what I hear. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying everyone/every space I leave behind or frequent less is bad. But there is only so much free time in my life. I want to spend it in the best spaces possible.

This philosophy of my life makes me think about the people I do choose to spend my time around. WM decided she wanted a better life than her family was providing. She couldn't do this with those people in her life. So she bounced. In that family, you either play by their rules or you're out. She chose out instead of standing on the porch breaking up fights (which often involve guns) and hiding jewelry when family comes to visit. I can respect this.

Many of my close friends live by similar philosophies. Not that they regularly see family members on the news... :) but they've decided to live happy lives. They've decided to examine their lives and their decisions and try to make decisions that lead to a happy life. They choose to be happy. They choose to be work toward happiness. This doesn't mean that there aren't speed bumps. But they recognize the good things and try to weed out the stupid ones. They weigh the good and the bad. They ask for other perspectives on life. While they may make a totally different or even decisions they regret, they've made a decision instead of just letting life happen to them. Very often they may not even be sure what path or end they want to work towards, but they know that they're active agents in their lives and they think about who they are, who they want to be and how to be happy. And I love them for this.

You friends, know who you are. Here's to a great New Year and finding a great path.

*I have no problem with Chanel...its my favorite perfume. I'm just trying to give you a Paris Hilton wanna-be kind of visual.

weeds

great friggin show, man.

Wordsmith's Challenge:

I've decided I like Noah and his unnamed uptight friend.


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Her thoughts ran together in hyper speed while the time outside her brain seemed to have stopped. Maybe trouble just finds me. No. I find trouble. I sure as hell found trouble this time. No. Noah finds trouble and I found Noah. Shit.

She should have run away in kindergarten when he shared his other Twinkie with her. She should have broken off their friendship that time in junior high when he convinced her it would be fun to ski off the roof of her house. Well, that had been fun. Until her upturned ski tips got hooked on the gutter and she’d face planted into the snow burms. 5 feet of snow with her legs and skis sticking out. Noah had tried to pull her out, but as a gangly 12 year old who was all teeth and elbows, he couldn’t do it. He’d had to call her dad at work. By the time dad figured out what they’d been up to, she had wished he’d stick her back in the snow. Her dad had grounded them both. They’d had to shovel all the neighbors’ driveways the rest of the winter.

Her dad was going to kill them both this time. Her dad had always served as Noah’s father figure. His mother figure, too. Noah’s parents were movers and shakers (though neither of them had ever been able to figure out what they were moving or shaking). They’d sent him to public school to connect with the regular folks. People magazine had done a story on it. It was how a plumber’s daughter and a film producer’s son wound up best friends. His parents were never home, his nanny’s were always busy having affairs with his dad while his mother was busy sleeping with her personal trainers. Noah spent most of his free time at her house.

They should be at her house eating Kraft macaroni and cheese and trying to beat her Ms. Packman score. They should not be having a party at his parents’ lake house.
She’d told Noah this. He’d told her not to worry. He always told her not to worry. She always worried.

This house was his parents attempt at simple living. They had folksy American artwork there that was worth more than her dad’s house. And now 40 kids from their high school were spilling beer on the furniture.

All day long, she’d been tucking Noah’s mother’s expensive art glass (hand blown by a Peruvian water buffalo, Noah had joked earlier) into closets and cupboards. Bored with the pool, the lake, the hot tubs, and the basement bowling alley, Noah’s drunken friends had started playing keep away with the collectibles. And now she was positioning herself under some big damn slow motion flying bottle. She didn’t even know who’d chucked it. She just held up her hands, kept her eye on it…and caught it. And then Noah had snuck up behind her and goosed her. She jumped and the vessel shattered.

Stupid Noah.

ho ho ho's and my mother in law, too

The holidays bring many things. Good tidings, yule logs (i don't know for sure what the feezey these are but I hear tell of them...) time with friends and family and for teachers like me... the holidays (most importantly) bring 2 weeks off.

The holidays also bring with them Christmas greetings from TB's family. Otherwise known as fuck you wife of TB notices. This holiday season of correspondence with TB's family has brought forth a metric ass ton (hi jc) of great fodder for rant-y blog posts. I have received a wedding invitation addressed to someone with my last name and another first name. Another wedding invitation addressed to Mr. and Mrs. The Boy (people. we have been married for ten years. forget that I am Dr. and not Mrs. I have NEVER EVER EVER FUCKING BEEN MRS. THE BOY. I have been for the last 33 years. Ms. Err. Ms. Err who will happily tell you that she is not nor will she ever be owned or i-fucking-dentified by a man.) I got a card addressed to The TheBoys.

I also got a Christmas letter from my in-laws that everyone they know gets. There are 8 pictures. 3 pictures are of their 9 (yeah count 'em 9) grandchildren (2 of these grandchildren are children of their daughter... 7 of them are children of their daughter's new husband). One pic is of my in-laws. One is of my father in law and his brothers. One is of my in-law's son in-law, his brother, his sister and son in law's niece. One is a snuggly picture of my sister in law and her husband. They are very happy with her husband and his 7 kids. The last picture is of TB and his mother on my couch.

Yeah. No pic of me. Left out of the Christmas letter. Again. Thankyouverymuch.

Holy fuckin' shit, people. I don't know whether to cry or shove a yule log up someone's ass.

2 hour delay!

There’s a lot of talk about how sweet teaching gigs are. Summers off, holidays, snow days, spring break, blah blah blah. Typically, when I hear teachers combat this kind of you have an easy job rhetoric, I hear about stacks of papers to grade every evening at home. Let me be very clear. Never, have I brought papers home to grade. I might stay late a half dozen times a year to input grades, but that’s about the extent of it for this kid. I’m there maybe 15 minutes early, and I bust my ass while I’m there.
At 3:10, I’m getting my shit to hit the door.

I maintain that a good teacher needs this time off to recharge her or his batteries. If you’re good at your job… you put your soul into it. And that really takes it out of ya, people.

I. Am. Tired.

No lie, part of it is due to working at WM’s shop. I’ve had, I think 3 days off since October. I’m still running, not as much as I’d like… but enough to shave 5 minutes off my previous time in a last minute 4 mile run with my brother last weekend (it was rad people…. I didn’t have a watch so I had no idea until I got to the finish line and TB’s jaw literally dropped when he saw me…he and K weren’t even looking for me yet). I’m walking the crazy dogs, training the new one, and attempting to keep a clean home and get some sleep.

I’m worn out. I NEED break. I need time to drink coffee with my dogs in the morning. I need to see my sister (or at least find time to talk more than every couple of weeks). I need to go out to lunch with loved ones. I need to play in the kitchen. I need to go for runs that I’m not just trying to sammich in between things that I have to coordinate time-wise with TB. No lie, my breaks are typically very busy. But I’m doing what I want, on my time.

I was telling TB this as I was standing in my shower cap and undergarments (I know, sex-ay) putting on my face this morning. I got ready to go a tad early because of the horrid weather, had KONG toys stuffed with treats to keep my boys busy for a while when I leave. They’d been out in the quarter inch of ice that covered everything (poor puppy wipe-outs….) and I was putting my jacket on over my scarf when TB yelled that my school was on a 2 hour delay according to the news.

I took off my dress clothes and put on sweats. I poured my coffee into an adventure mug instead of a travel mug. I sat on my made bed with WD and LD (who both apparently now sleep with all four legs in the air). Its only extra 2 hours. I have to leave at 8:20 instead of 6:15. Still fairly early. It will screw up lesson plans for everyone (myself included) all day long. I don’t even care. These 2 hours to catch up on email and puppy cuddles are just what the Dr. (Dr. Err that is) ordered.

Have a great day, asshole

Have you ever worked retail?
At Christmas?

I've been let out of the back room of WM's store. I was kept there for nearly 4 years, not allowed to work anywhere near the customers. It seems, I was a bit burned out. Maybe a lot burned out after 10 years of retail hell. There is something about women buying things for their house (and particularly buying a lot of it....however they define a lot) that makes them think they own you. Some don't own you, but rather take some kind of sick high school popularity mean girls pleasure in thinking they have some intimate personal friendship relationship with you. Neither of these sits particularly well with me. I see them as major flaws of character and person. However, I have a vested interest in the well being of my mom's business pursuits, and it not getting smacked (cuz my mother does that). So I treat most customers the same and am friendly and helpful and efficient.

My mom reached the conclusion that perhaps I needed a break when she began to build a new building. Her store was originally located in a 100 + year old farm house. She used the lot, which was over an acre to build a 4,000 square foot store. The old house still remains, but the garage built in the 70's had to come down.
Somewhere around the time of her remodel, I was in year 2 of my last round of school. My stress level was through the roof. It seemed my tolerance with women who found my mother's shop the cool store at the mall (hypothetically speaking), had run out.
My mom was sensing this very clearly (what with her Spidey-mom sense and all) and was proven right when this even took place.
Lady with no life: Oh my gosh!!! The garage outside is gone!!! What happened to it? (Less than slick way of asking what we were doing construction-wise... because of the remaining construction debris it was clear that it had been torn down).
Clerk with no home training (me): Beats me. We came in today and that sucker was just gone.
I got put on, um, sabbatical.
I'm not sure that I want to be back or if I would be allowed back if WM weren't so pressed for workers who were.... alive. Really people, I don't know why the hell people think that when you drive to your job it is called, 'going to work.' But here we are. Me, at 33 years of age, being reminded every weekend, to mind my manners.
But its hard people. Especially at the holidays. So if you've never worked retail in the holidays here are some tips:
1. All sales final means all sales final. Not all sales final for everyone but you. We aren't Walmart people.
2. Do. No. Tap your fucking fake finger nails at me while I ring in your sale. I am going as fast as I can, we are still faster than Walmart, and if the girl ringing you out is 6 feet tall, with red hair and ghetto hoops...she is totally thinking about kicking your ass. That's just rude.
3. No. I will not take your gum and put it in the trash. Nor your kids gum.
Leave your pop in the car, douche bags.
4. If you break it... say you broke it. Don't say, 'I think this was like this already' see the part about the tall red head.
5. If I quote you a price on something, don't loudly repeat it incredulously. That's tacky. Just say thank you and talk to your girlfriends about it in the car later.
6. If you're at a small store... do not (and I repeat do not) talk about how to make the stuff they have. You look like an ass. Be original. If you're so damn talented, then come up with your own ideas. And oh yeah. That redhead....
7. Heaven help you if the red head mentioned above catches you taking pictures or just as bad...shoplifting. You'll wish I called the cops.
8. Yes. Our Christmas trees are pretty. Yes. I could do it professionally. No I am not for hire. I know you would pay me. I have been to school for ten years. Unless you made me hot chocolate and toast on cold mornings and chicken soup when I was sick.... you can't afford to have me decorate your motherfucking tree.
9. If I say you can't take down my display. That means no. Not let me argue with you about it for ten minutes.

So far, I've been on my very best behavior. It would help if more people read my blog....

For Kris

I jacked this from Kris cuz I'm too tired to think of anything else.

#1 Wrapping paper or gift bags? Wrapping paper. Gift tape. Cool do-dads and big thick ribbon.
#2 Real tree or Artificial? Fake, for sure. I'd prolly cry if I cut one down.
#3 When do you put up the tree? Shit. I put up maybe 40 every year at WM's shop. I'm about tapped out by the time it comes to put one up of my own.
#4 When do you take the tree down? I haven't put one up for at least 5 or 6 years. But when I do, they've got to be down by new year's eve.
#5 Do you like eggnog? Oh hell yeah. I don't drink it because dairy hates me and because I'm still what you call thick. Don't want to make that shift from a woman with a big ass to a big ass woman.
#6 Favorite gift received as a child? When I was in 6th grade I got the treadle sewing machine with the super secret spy doors that is in my living room under the MLK photo.
#7 Hardest person to buy for? My dad. Oh sweet Jesus. He is difficult.
#8 Easiest person to buy for? My mama. She's really sharp I love buying her clothes.
#9 Do you have a nativity scene? Nope.
#10 Mail or email Christmas cards? If I send them, I mail them.
#11 Worst Christmas gift you ever received? Mat got me a card that entitled me to a sweat shirt our first Christmas. I almost kicked his ass. Go. To. The. Store. Dillweed.
#12 Favorite Christmas Movie? I don't watch Christmas movies. You can't make me.
#13 When do you start shopping for Christmas? End of October. I usually only have one or two days off in November and December.
#14 Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Naw. But I've thrown some from my mother-in-law.
# Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Buckeyes and those green Christmas Trees cookies. My one grandmother (not Mrs. Price....make no mistake) disowned me, nobody made Christmas cookies for me any more. I'm going to figure out how to make my own damn little green trees this year. If you know what they're called that'd be awesome. I'm pretty sure if I google little green trees... I'll get some kind of stoner web site.
#15 Lights on the tree? Yeah. I like booshee ones. Like bubble lights for Mr. Price.
#16 Favorite Christmas song? Christmas music makes me want to stab myself.
#17 Travel at Christmas or stay home? I don't care.
#18 Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Isn't it like Drunken, Bloated, Broke and them? Erm. No I can't.
#19 Angel on the tree top or a star? We never had anything on top of our tree growing up.
#20 Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Don't care. I usually do Christmas with my mom and dad that morning. My dad worked out of town growing up and sometimes we had to celebrate a week late or early. Shit like that don't phase me....
#21 Most annoying thing about this time of the year? I really fucking hate Christmas.
#22 Favorite ornament theme or color? eh.
#23 Favorite for Christmas dinner? we do breakfast at my mom's crib. and we get a pecan roll from Andersons. My dad makes good coffee. Its rad.
#24 What do you want for Christmas this year? students who know how act....its that time of year. i'm starting to hate them just a little.
heh