I’m posting over at the blog of my Canadian brother from another mother today. Please visit and leave me a comment, meh??????
First of all, a bit of administrivia: TODAY IS B‘S BIRTHDAY!!!!!
Give her love. (And peace!)
My mom (among other people) tagged me on Facebook and reposted her meme on her own blog so I guess I better be a good kid and do it!
25 things about me:
1. I really love peanut butter, but didn’t catch on so much until I was 33.
2. I would be a vegetarian if I didn’t love cows so very much that I must consume them.
3. I could actually do without bacon, and have done so.
4. My life seems perfectly normal and unexciting to me until I compare notes with other people and then I realize that most people are really not leading their lives to their fullest potential… (What are you all waiting for, exactly?)
5. I randomly say very profound things without meaning to.
6. Whenever I am outside my home I have a scenario worked out for if someone attacks me.
7. But I feel really safe. Honest. It’s just called “being prepared”.
8. When I was a teenager I used to yell at my boobs to stop growing.
9. I have gone through stages of life where I thought I might have multiple personalities so would spot check and ask myself my name. (I always answer my given name.)
10. Dawg calls me Poppy. I call him Dawgy. When we speak about each other to our friends or family I call him Dave or David and he calls me Stef or Stefanie. Around bloggers it’s blog names.
11. When I was a pre-teen I thought it would be easier to be a boy so I wished I was one.
12. Yes, Blake, I stole your pink purse your mom gave you and threw it in the woods.
13. I hope to learn Spanish specifically so I can read all the subway signs without having to read their English equivalents.
14. I don’t tell people at my current job that I have a blog or that I’m Internet Famous, despite the fact that they could put all the pieces together just by actually paying attention to the calendar hanging up at my desk.
15. I love the subway so much that I’ve randomly happily considered memorizing every train line, starting with A. (I hadn’t quite thought through when I’d learn the numbered lines.)
16. I dated a guy that Knitting Girl also dated. He is the only guy besides my ex-husband that I ever dumped. Dumping him was so horrible that from that point on I would always make guys break up with me. I just told Knitting Girl this past weekend why I dumped the guy (then a boy) at 13. I had a vision of the future with him that freaked me the fuck out and I was unwilling to let that come to life.
17. I love to walk around naked. I’m pretty sure it slightly embarrasses Dawg, or at least makes him uncomfortable, because he won’t look directly at me. Not sure why, since I’m hot and beautiful and fun to look at.
18. I like to read periodicals from right to left.
19. I didn’t dare tell my mom until I was 33 years old that I ever drink alcohol. Before that I was scared to. Now I realize it’s part of who I am and I need to stop being scared to let people know the real me. I barely ever drink.
20. I am very happy to no longer be a homeowner for now.
21. I can’t wait to be a mommy to more babies. (Beautiful orange boy kitty, where aaaaaaaare you?)
22. Five days a week I hear or say the phrase “that’s what she said.”
23. I could take a shower all day. I love the hot water running over me…
24. …but I love ice in the bedroom. :smiles:
25. I am randomly psychic. I can read your minds right now. Stop thinking about 23 and 24. You are dirty birdies. :winks:
I’m starting a new cult where we ignore the necessity of money, any obligation we prefer not to acknowledge, and that clause in our cardiac contract that says we can’t eat a lot of bacon.
WHO. IS. WITH. ME??????????
I am old now. I know because I now get The -Itis after I eat a meal. I really could very much curl up in a ball and sleep for 2 hours after filling my tummy.
At lunch Tuesday I was busy working so I didn’t take one. Instead I took a 5 minute walk outside at around 3pm to see if the pigeons would flock to me; they did not. But my head stopped feeling like Atreyu when he goes into the Swamp of Sadness with his pretty pony Artax:
Warning: That video is sad. Oh, hmm, mebbe shoulda put this before the video.
I witnessed a very official solicitation on the train. I also finally came to the realization that when I visit Vermont and return to New York it takes me a day to readjust to the general city craziness.
You know what’s really not good??????? These:
(But the ending is really super adorably cute!)
For the first time in perhaps forever my BFF will get her gift on/before her actual birthday. She will like my gift, even though I didn’t do what she always does for me, which is buys lots of items and prettily places them together and ships them from her home to me. The box alone will be worth my lack of involvement with the wrap-wrap. And… she reads my mind so she already knows what’s coming.
I need to take my vitamins more regularly again. Please remind me? Thanks!
It gets a little deep at the end, so up front: Here are pictures!
Dawg and I got up Saturday morning to make the trip. Of course we’d packed nothing whatsoever the night before, so we packed all we had to pack then loaded up my car and headed to the gas station then to 7-11 for snacks.
We drove and drove and drove and then we saw three Cracker Barrels in a row and waved to them and thought, “well, it’s too early to eat, we’ll wait until the next one” then 46 miles later we realized that we were in VT and there would be no more. We tried a Bickford’s but it was closed so we settled on a Circle K stop in Springfield, VT where we got Subway sandwiches.
We finally arrived to Break Boy and Knitting Girl’s home and I promptly got the car stuck in their driveway. I iz uh geenyus. We unloaded all of our stuff and then we nested. Or, whatever it is when it’s negative degrees outside and you just stay inside and snuggle with your friends’ children and eat yummy tofu wraps and laugh a lot.
The next day we got up and had breakfast then we got the car shoved out of the spot it was in and went to my brother’s home. He has Legos! And Star Wars! And my niece! And Kung Fu Panda! My brother wondered what I would say about him here. I love my brother to tiny little pieces, reconstituted back into his whole self, and then tinied again. What would I say here? I am so glad he and Dawg get along famously. I am so glad they can so easily talk to each other about any subject. I am so glad two people I care about that much don’t hate each other. And my brother gives the awesomest Christmas presents:
I gave him one roll of Booberry fruit roll-up and a box of Frankenstein fruit roll-up. Oh, and a long time ago I sent him a mash-up poster of photos from his birthday party this past summer. I guess that counts as something.
And then we went with Sonja and Lucian (I’ve known them since preschool!!!!, *cough*) to see Underworld: Rise of the Lycans. Remember when Kate Beckinsale is told in the second Underworld movie that her dad killed her family, not the Lycans? Yah, I don’t think we needed a whole movie about it, but that’s what we got. As we well know, even premiere weekends of movies in Vermont are dead, dead, deadski, so there were perhaps 20 more people in the theater besides us. And, for whatever reason, during the previews the sound was turned down. During the movie the sound was still turned down. I went out and mentioned it. Five minutes later another person went out and mentioned it. Apparently the person in control of the sound was being an asshat and turned it up so high that every S-sound out of the mouths of the characters stung our ears. Sooo, I went back out and said, “a few of us complained that the sound was too low. Now it’s too high and is hurting our ears. Somewhere in the middle would be perfect, thanks” then walked away. A minute later the volume was as it should have been. Yup, there’s New Yorker in me. Anyway, back to the movie: meh. But I did spend the entire movie wondering if Kevin Grevioux also did the voice of the evil overlord in 300 but he did not.
We then went to visit my dad and stepmom. We had a grand old time getting to their home with no four-wheel drive or snow tires during a surprise white-out blizzard (gaaah) and then when we got there they were very happy to see us!!!!, but then my stepmom dropped the bomb questions to which I had to just answer “we have no current plans” because what the hell else are you supposed to say when your stepmom point blank says “they don’t count” when you point out that she’s already a grandmother by my brother and that I have three furry children.
When we got back to home base Knitting Girl was reknitting a hat for the third time, but this time she was making that hat into mittens. She had built a fire and it felt so toasty warm so I was ready for bed 10 minutes after getting home.
In the morning we packed up the car then went to get Dawg a coffee and gas for the car then we went to the grocery store to buy maple bacon, among other things. Then I got a soda from McDonald’s to prepare for what came next…
We went to my old place of employment and had a very surreal time. We found Break Boy’s office open but no one in his seat, in fact no one in their seats in his entire group. And then we went downstairs to see if da Bomb or PiC were down there, which they weren’t but I knew what that meant. And then we went to the cafe and Dawg got chewed out for stealing me away. And then we went to the location where da Bomb was, who I was looking very much forward to seeing and catching up with, but who happened to be there but the one client I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing. It was, apparently, my fault that when I left 6 months ago I didn’t force my employer to make a plan for my replacement and carry through with it so that’s why 6 months later he ironically had just lost all the data on his computer because he couldn’t be bothered to back up his own data which is the very last thing I showed him how to do. Guess what, asshat? I wasn’t there for you today. I was there to see my friends, my family, people who love and care about me. You need to grow the fuck up, shut up, own up, take responsibility for your own actions, and if you ever speak to me again it better be something about how I am and how my life is and gee isn’t it pretty outside even though it’s cold. Or else I’m dragging your ass to neutral ground and I’m kicking it. Fucker. And then we tried to go see PiC but he was very ill so was in hiding blowing his nose with tree splinters and then we tried 4 times to park at my old building so that I could visit the woman who gave me Georgie, but parking at my employer sucks urinal cakes so that never worked out. And then we went to see my brother to give him the key I’d forgotten to bring with me the day before.
And then we went to a convenience store at which Dawg had a very horrible conversation with a nasty woman who insulted and assaulted him verbally, but then gave him as much change back as was the total of his purchases because Vermont Barbie says: “Math Is hard!”
And then we finally went to Cracker Barrel!!!! I really love their country lotta meat salad with blue cheese dressing. Yummy… But I didn’t care for their bathroom. It forced me to touch everything in it and there was bluegrass music playing that I knew but it sounded like someone recorded stomping their foot to the beat over it and it was very unsettling while I tried to pee. I mean, c’mon, I’m not in the bathroom to listen to someone stomp through the ceiling. But I had a good dinner.
And then we went and got Chinese food (Happy New Year!) and 7-11 soda and went home.
When I got home I cried because it is hard to build a new life for yourself. It is hard to start over at 34. It is hard to realize that all you built where you grew up has to be rebuilt by you and you alone in a much more concentrated amount of time than 34 years. It’s hard to not worry that showing your vulnerability won’t backfire on you. It’s hard to feel worthy of this new life. It’s hard to think you are worth the trouble, especially after being told for so many years in the past that your worth and the amount of trouble you caused were polarly opposite in the very wrong directions. It’s not insurmountable to get past these thoughts and make a new life, but sometimes it pushes me over my edge and tears are necessary. And Dawg is always there to hug me and be there for me and cuddle me and tell me he loves me. And I should be there for me too. So I will be.
You know what bugs me about having to write down beneficiaries for money? Two things:
1. I have to request or steal the most prized possession of my loved ones — their social security number — then have them indefinitely worry that I will steal their identity or otherwise misuse the knowledge.
2. If I do ask them for the information there’s no happy surprise. “Oh emmm geeeee, Poppy left me money?!?! That’s so RAD!” Honestly, this is the way I prefer to operate so I guess I’ll hafta steal a social security number or two…
I’m bringing this much money to Vermont:
Know why? Cuz I don’t remember the PIN to my bank card. How sad is that? Yah, that’s pretty sad. Clearly I’ll have to rectify the PIN situation or I guess I’ll be writing myself a lot of checks for cash. It amuses me to think of myself at 80, hunched over a counter, writing a check to myself. Maybe I’ll just never fix the PIN issue on purpose.
I don’t think I’ll get to post again for the weekend, so I’ll add in one more money thing: Adam “Warbucks” Avitable is turning one year older on Monday. (What? 31 now? Olllllld.) Please make sure to send your condolences to him sometime over the weekend! And make sure to send him presents in the form of retirement funds. He expects to retire by 35!
Yesterday morning I looked at the uncomfortable pole grabbing of a man with long fingernails. I New York-glanced at him more closely and noticed he was wearing gang colors — coat, scarf, hat, and backpack. I moved my hand to make his grasp of the pole more comfortable then took the opportunity to look down. He was wearing expensive dress pants and brand new dress shoes. Book. Cover.
I would like to remind everyone who reads my words: Don’t give in. Be you. Don’t be who others want you to be. It’s ok to compromise on issues. It’s not ok to compromise on Who You Are. And if you need to be reminded of this daily you go right ahead and bookmark this post. I remind myself of this daily before I reach my Manhattan destination. It’s a necessity.
I had onion rings for lunch Thursday. I assure you, no matter what time it is right now, I’m still experiencing them. They were ungood. Who makes bad onion rings?! Such a travesty.
Ripley has really adorable feet. She wanted you to know.
Aaaaand, finally, doing a project for (surprisingly) my dad and stepmom back home and here’s one of the fruits of my labor:
I :heart: red. And Snoopy! And crookedness.
Bro and Mom, I promise I’ll give you the results too, in a different form.
I am tired and have nothing nice to say (Chef Leah is a slut!!! — see?) so I’ll keep it simple: I miss you all. I don’t like my distinct lack of blog time. I don’t like being disappointing to YOU instead of people who more deserve it.
And I have no resolution for it.
Tuesday I walked to my favorite deli to grab a sandwich and this time, unlike any other time, while I was walking to the deli the pigeons who hang out in the trees and on the sill of the building at W 55 and 10th decided to fly and flock around me. A few birds even touched my jacket and blew my hair around. I just kept walking and they kept following. When I got to the crosswalk at 10th they stopped following. I went into the deli for my food, came out with it very well bagged, and came back to 10th and W 55. The birds were not in any type of formation when I got to them, but they all returned to the sidewalk, swarming me again. And they kept hanging around me — behind me, to my sides, in front of me, in the air. I’m thinking it’s my cockatiel coat. Or I’ve been inducted into the flock. Whichever works for me, I love pigeons. (And squirrels.)
I got to the last chapter of Dewey on the E train Tuesday night and tears were popping over the edge of my eyes so I had to stop reading. Dewey was 19 during that last chapter. It is not a happy ending, as Sybil warned me. (Thank you, Sybil.)