Archive for the ‘I’ll never learn.’ Category

He: “Thanks for helping me out today. I want to buy you dinner tonight. I was thinking a steak.”

Me: “Ok. Where? ‘Cheap Steaks R Us’?”

He: “‘Cheap Steaks R Us’ or ‘We Got Great Ribs,’ either one.”

Me: “Ok, well, ‘Great Ribs’ will be busy on a Friday night, but I need to do some things in town anyway. I’ll meet you at ‘Great Ribs’ at 6:15.”

He: “Ok.”

Fast forward to 6:25. Tired of burning gas to keep cool in the parking lot, I went in to get a table for two. People stared. The waitress left me alone to wait. At 6:38 I called.

“Hey. You comin’?”

“Um, I’m sittin’ at ‘Great Steaks.”

“We said ‘Great Ribs.”


Since the two places are 30 miles apart and I had plans for later, there was no way to hook up. Man, did I feel stoopid! Fat girl, stood up. Criminy. I got take-out and went on to my next gig. Now, the REALLY stoopid part of this is that I was dreading the dinner. Yeah, um… he’s not the greatest conversationalist. He bores the snot right outta me, actually. So, what, I was disappointed? What’s up with that?? If a doc came in and told me he decided I didn’t need major surgery, I’d be HAPPY, right? I sure hope this doesn’t mean I actually LIKE the guy. Noooo. Not that… 

I swear, the boy is dumber than a sack of HAMMERS. No, I take that back. He just doesn’t listen. That’s the MAN in him. He sent me two text messages to apologize, to his credit. I am used to screw ups. Doesn’t mean I deal with them very well, I just expect them now. Unfortunately, that was not the last of a few big irritants disappointments for the day, so I am just kinda blue. Yeah,  know. I live in blue. Oh, well.

I never knew the color blue
Until I tangled words with you.
And Purple was the haze of summer skies, and not your lies:
Yellow was the springtime sun
Until you turned your tail to run.
Now I see your love is painted black, Jack…
Now I see your love is painted black.

I wanna be color blind so I can’t see
The pain these colors paint for me
I wanna be color blind, make it black and white
So all I see is shades of light.

Yeah. Kinda like that. Did you know doctors charge nearly double when a patient has insurance as when they are paid in cash? I had my first uninsured encounter with the medical profession today, and while I appreciated that the doc was trying to help me afford the service, I was a little…I dunno… not PEEVED, but maybe just… oh, I don’t know, maybe disappointed, to continue the theme. I have heard complaints about such things from medicare patients before, but thought, surely not.

WRONG.  Yet another A-HA moment. This country has major problems. I’m in love with indoor plumbing, tho, so I guess I’ll stay.

On the plus side, the end of the evening was fairly pleasant. I had cookies and milk. What’s not to like about that? Tomorrow I have to mow, and fix the washer. I am tired of walking around it. Ah, who am I kidding? I can go another week without washing clothes in hot water. I could claim the need to study instead of mowing, but the grass might eat me when I get back from next week’s road trip if I don’t cut it before I leave. So. Either mow tomorrow or break the Sabbath. Hmm.





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Today blue owns me.  I will not dignify it with a capital letter, but it knows its’ power, even without it.  My friends are back in town, returned from a 2-yr journey into higher education, complete with an addition to the family (the two-legged kind). We did lunch today, and honestly? I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. I will have to start now on my list of excuses, cuz it’s gonna be a long time till the kid reaches an age I’ll be able to tolerate. Don’t get me wrong: he is a beautiful, sweet, pinchable baby, but he is a BABY. They make noise. They are the center of the universe. They are somebody else’s joy. They do not interest me.  Therein lies part of my blueness: what kind of horrible human do I have to be not to like babies? What went so horribly wrong in my psyche that makes me not even want to be in the same ROOM with them? Being cursed with the equipment to make one adds to the insult – nobody with complementary equipment and good hygiene would ever want to hit this. I’d be glad to be an organ donor. Anybody want an untouched uterus? Current owner only drives it to church on Sundays. For sale, cheap.

How long will it take me to realize that there is never going to be a day when somebody cares about my needs? That’s not entirely fair, I know. People DO care. I just want more. I am tired of being a rock. I now understand how my mother felt when she wrote in her journal, “When will someone take care of ME for a change?” And? I am mad at me for thinking so selfishly.

Along with being disgusted by my own thought processes and the useless waste that IS my body, I am beating myself up for my inability to just get things done. I need to read class assignments, clean house, wash dishes, take out the garbage, organize my life, get a job, get a life… small things, you know. I feel like I am drowning. I am afraid that I will never work again because I don’t want to be submissive, and my lack of personal self-control is abhorrent. Who would want to hire a walking waddling hairy mole whose resemblance to Jabba the Hutt is uncanny? I don’t have any career ambitions anymore: there is nothing that fires my soul. It’s like I hit a wall when I quit teaching, and am quite happy to camp at the base of it, rather than try to find a way to get beyond it. Lots of talent, lots of possibility and promise, and not ONE OUNCE of “get ‘er done.” I am my own worst enemy, and I am powerless to defeat myself.


Durn, those demons are loud…can’t somebody SHUT THEM the HECK UP???

**hands over ears, eyes squeezed shut, rocking**

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One of these days, hopefully very, VERY soon, I will stop expecting things of people. You know, small things…like showing up when they say they will, considering my schedule for once, or simply doing what is right. 

Don’t hold your breath waiting. Even when I know the ending before the conversation even starts, I still manage to be disappointed, maybe even a little surprised.  Most folks would call me retarded for that. Heck, I AM retarded. Only an idiot expects different results under repeated circumstances. I tell ya. For somebody most of the world thinks is a crabby old witch, I sure do seem to give people the benefit of the doubt a lot. A LOT.

A whole damned lot.

Sorry. A whole DANGED lot.

OK, I am being cryptic – sorry. It seems that once againI have been left holding the bag for the worship team at church, a group I apparently serve. *looking at the clock, knowing no one is coming to rehearsal* If I looked at it as service to the group, maybe I wouldn’t be so mad right now, but I don’t because I’m selfish that way. I used to just show up when I was told to be there/here/whatever, but somewhere along the way I became the planner, organizer, overseer, and janitor of the party.  I didn’t volunteer, I wasn’t asked, it just seemed no one else was gonna get the job done if I didn’t, so I did it. I was just trying to make sure MY time wasn’t wasted because the ones who are supPOSED to do this stuff waited until PAST the last minute to do it. Here’s the kicker: if I don’t do it, nobody cares. The boss will take care of things. But he will choose music to HIS tastes, and the WT will whine and wimper because it’s a huge boring mess. So. It’s in my best interest to just bite the bullet, pick the music, organize the rehearsal, and stfu.

 Just butter my backside and call me toast, cuz I’m done.

Headed to the hacienda, -Me

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Some days it just pays to keep your mouth shut. When you know that there are people who sincerely refuse to recognize that your time is just as valuable as theirs; when you’re expected to be everybody else’s rock, always there, always ready to do what is necessary to keep the engine running while everyone else has a life; when the only questions asked about your well-being are only asked so the questioner can tell himself he asked, and your answers don’t matter.

It gets old.

The people around me have finally come to the conclusion that there is a cancer of sorts in our school system, that I am not the reason that I don’t have a job there any more. They are seeing firsthand the things I fought against, which I don’t think they honestly believed were true when I described them, and they are assuring me that I was “delivered” from a bad place rather than saying, “We are sorry we didn’t believe you.” Well, yay. Good for them They get to keep their health insurance.

Maybe there will be a day when I am seen for the prophet I was, rather than the reactionary I appeared to be. Unfortunately, I will most likely be dead by then. OK, unfortunately for them, not me, cuz baby, I am HOMEsick. I will be glad to get there, with the exception of not wanting to leave my babies to an uncertain future. Gosh, I really need to make a will. I will make my family pee in their respective britches by mandating that the money be spent on the cats. I will make the papers with that one, I’ll bet.

I am valuable. I am funny, smart, and talented. Too bad all those people I reach out to aren’t at all interested in being a part of that. Bless ’em.

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The rat is still in the pantry. I think.

My taxes aren’t even started.

I have a project tomorrow AND the next day, so I HAVE to do the taxes before I go to bed tonight.

In case you didn’t notice? It’s 11:30 pm.



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At this very moment there is a very large rat with black eyes somewhere in my pantry.

I KNOW this because I was in the room when he ran in there to escape the cat that sat there WATCHING him as he crossed my foot. If I had just left the two of them alone, the cat might very well have taken the thing out, but puss took my entrance as a desire to be in on the game.

He let me play. Dangit.

So now, here I sit, typing, while this…this…THING is a few feet away, and I am supposed to just go to bed and not think about it. YEAH. Um, RIGHT.

OK, so I am totally being a drama queen. Anybody who knows me can picture the slumped shoulders and hear the sigh. Another day in the jungle. Ho hum. Truly, that’s how it is. I don’t freak out anymore, except when it comes to roaches. Those little buggers can go to God with my blessings and my shoe print on their backs.

On another front, my horrorscope today sez I should quit looking at what I don’t have and be darned glad for what I DO have, that other people would give their eyeteeth for it.  I am thinking of suing the guy who put the camera in my head to steal those thoughts, cuz he really got in there. I do my best to stay away from situations that make me obsess, since the world is orbiting my butt, you see, but sometimes it just can’t be helped.  Tonight was one of those nights. Last night was, too, actually. How do you tell people who want to be with you that you’d rather not hang out, that they make you hate yourself? They make me feel worse for turning them down. If you’ve ever confessed a deep fear or need to a friend and had them call you silly, you understand my predicament. I am out of excuses for running away and hiding. Oh, well, never mind. That’s a drippy story. I’ll shut up about it for now.

I found out a couple of days ago that I will have to wait a whole year to get all the credits I need for my masters degree, and I am just not happy with that. I told somebody tonight that I feel like I have to cross that bridge before I can move on to the next thing in my life. Guess what else was in that horoscope? Yep.

Right now, you shouldn’t devote your energy to what’s next in your life. Spend your time finishing up the projects that you’ve already begun. Sure, they may lack the excitement of fresh challenges, but they’re not going to finish themselves! The sooner you complete them, the sooner you can start something new.

So. Um… yeah. I really only have one other option, and I haven’t checked whether or not it’s even possible. I guess I’ll do one. more. year. of piano lessons. Oh, JOY! Abundant jubilation! Woo hoo!

Or not.

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Once upon a time, a young princess came of age. She was given the most wonderful gift a girl of her standing could receive, a beautiful white stallion of purest blood. The two became fast friends, and the girl visited him and cared for him and talked to him every day, sometimes spending hours with him in the fields riding bareback.

As she grew, she spent less and less time with her friend. She felt guilty just thinking about her neglect, but time just slipped away from her. She vowed to visit and rebuild the relationship she once cherished, and when she finally made time, he greeted her as if she had never been gone. She was so ashamed of herself she could barely stand to be with him, but she finally understood he was just glad she was there. Things were not the same, however; she felt burdened and guilty, weary and distracted. Not until she went for a ride beside the still, clear waters of the lake on her parents’ estate did she understand why. She caught a glimpse of herself in the water, and was quite surprised to see that she was carrying a host of packages on her back. Each package was labeled: “who am I?” “career,” “school,” “family expectations,” “my faith.” Stunned, she sat and stared at her reflection. She reached behind her and grabbed the bundle of family obligations, and tossed it into the lake. She felt lighter already. She grabbed another: “grades,” and tossed that as well. One by one, she removed the burdens she carried, and with each lost weight, noticed a glow around her begin to grow. She was seeing herself in the radiance of the magnificent horse on which she sat, the beautiful creature who now glowed with a pure light that covered her in peaceful joy. Left only with the package containing her faith, she took that one and laid it at the feet of her stallion, who took it and transformed it into the breath of life itself.

How nice it would be to so easily cast aside our burdens! If only we could realize that nothing else matters except reflecting and basking in the light of our Creator, the One who loves us and joyfully welcomes us back when we return from self-exile. If only we could get a glimpse of the truth of our adoption, carried through life to our inheritance on the back of the Savior, that we were created to enjoy Him and His creation. If only.

Today I was given a tiny glimpse or two into  the truth of my personal existence. An older member of our church thanked me for telling her it was ok NOT to want to learn how to operate a computer beyond her email and grandkids’ pictures. She said I “freed” her from feeling guilty. I had to laugh a little at that, but the irony is that it is in her womens’ Bible study that I am learning to say no to the guilt that haunts ME. Things like, “you aren’t feminine enough, you don’t make casseroles, you don’t write cute cards and letters and do scrapbooking, and you couldn’t care less what color my baby poops.”

You think I’m kidding.  

Another friend let it slip that since I quit teaching, he doesn’t really care about staying much longer, either. Took the fun out of it for him, apparently. It does indeed feel good to know that I am missed, or at least appreciated. Another woman in my church admitted she felt a little sad that some people close to her were having babies, even though she has a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter at home. I realized then that we all share the same pain. It may take personally hellish forms for each of us, but underneath it all it comes down to being burdened with fear and guilt and disappointments over who we think we ought to be, or who we think the world wants us to be. When we accept who we are and who we AREN’T and toss those packages from our backs, then and only then will we truly be free.

I for one can’t wait to hand off that big one marked “chocolate.”

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I must laugh, or leave a note in his mailbox, or slit my wrists. I’m not sure what the best answer is at the moment, so I’ll have to get back to you on that. See, tonight I came home to my email and found I had a personals ad match. The site that screams Joy! found li’l ol’ me a mate. Yessiree.

Too bad I’ve been living next door to him for ten years.

You think I’m kidding, but no. That would be too easy. He and I have chatted in the moonlight, had laughs with his friends by firelight, talked turkey and goats and chickens and cats, and generally kept a tiny part of an eye out for each other’s property for ages. I talked with his (now ex) wife many, many times while they were having problems, and nearly burned down his barn (an accident, swear!). Not once did he ever express an interest in me as a woman. The barn thing didn’t help my case, I’m sure. Still. I am not interested in him, either, especially since he’s a big freakin’ liar, but the fact that he liked my profile is kinda funny, huh? I used a pseudonym, of course, because what would be more humiliating than having your neighbors see your profile online and getting a good laugh behind your back? Hahaha!!

I’m a little insulted, but I can’t say I’m surprised. It reinforces my assertion that I suck on the outside. I can’t get past that, and it shows that even a guy who’s known me for 10 years can’t, either. It also shows that there’s something good on the inside, even if it’s clothed in jeans and mens’ shirts. I will never be a trophy wife, unless the trophy is for a japanese whaling expedition, but I can promise that the man who is smart enough to give me a chance will be greatly rewarded. He may need to be blindfolded, but he won’t regret it.

I’m just sayin’.

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I have now taken three whole, long, completely marvelous showers in my new enclosure. I had no idea my house could have something so wonderful! Lest you think I now live and bathe in relative splendor, however, I remind you that nothing – NOTHING – in this house is EVER straightforward and easy. The pics at Flickr will tell the story, and show the pathetic condition of my new pleasure dome.

There are still a couple of leaky things, but nothing that can’t be fixed. I just have to take/find the time to do it. Since nothin’ is simple, though, I think it’s only fair that I list a few repercussions of this effort.

1. Neither toilet will shut off by itself, due to the incredible force of air bubbles left from draining the water lines.

2. One toilet now also leaks at the tank, although I suspect the water demons that are haunting me rather than the plumbing we’ve done.

3. The tub faucet had to have washers replaced because I had to USE it while the shower was under construction. I would put money on those being the original washers, but hopefully that’s not the case. Surely SOMEbody repaired them within the last 65 years. When I removed the stems to do the repair, the whole unit was just crumbling. I will have to change out the whole fixture if I keep using it.

4. There is still a leak in the shower faucet. The patch I put on it actually made it WORSE.

Of course, there’s the fact that I now have a shiny new shower and really crappy everything else. My White Trash Shower will serve me well for now, though, and since there will most likely not be another human being in this house within the next 2 years, I don’t care about the rest. Much.

Maybe some paint, a little tile, a few pieces of paneling… you know, small stuff.

HEY! LOOK! Something shiny!


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Under the heading of, “It has to be HIS idea,” more moments of zen.

Last week, when we discovered that the shower floor had a dip in it, making one side of the base 3/4″ off level, I suggested we use thinset (a kind of mortar used for tiling shower walls and such) in order to level it up. I told my help I didn’t like the idea of jacking up one side without putting something underneath to support the whole base. He said, “Well, I’ll cut a piece of plywood into a wedge and we’ll see what happens.” I said, “OK, you have a belt sander, right? You can just use that to taper it.” He said, “I don’t think that will work when I get into the layers…” I dropped it at that.


The next day, I saw him at church, and he said, “I talked to Big Brother, and he suggested we use mortar under that base, just mix it up and shove it under there. BB thought we should shore up the whole underside.” I looked at him. I didn’t ask where he got that idea, and why it was suddenly a good one. Another day later, and I had made another suggestion instead of mortar, which somehow he managed to hear. Don’t know how that happened, cuz I didn’t use a bullhorn or anything, and I wasn’t even yelling. BB even approved. Anyway, he told me today he had tried to cut that board at work and couldn’t do it. He tried every angle to Sunday, and just couldn’t make it work. Of course, the next step was to call BB again. Big Brother suggested he take it to the woodshop and sand it to the right shape.

Sand. It.  He was really excited about that idea. Harumph.

I hate tongue-holding practice. Truly.  The part of me that needs the world to know I’m smart and almost always right wants to scream, I TOLD YOU THAT FOUR DAYS AGO. Being the kind soul that I am and not wanting to damage his manhood, I said nothing of the sort, not out loud. Inside I’m pretty danged hoarse. I must admit, there’s a short list of advice I offered in this process which was accepted and quite useful. It’s just…well, when it comes to the big stuff, I am apparently invisible. I should change my name to Harvey and join the CIA, ‘cuz, surely, I am wasting my talents.

 I have never fully appreciated being female, since I got all the right parts, but don’t get to use ’em. The packaging is too repulsive. But I have to admit, those feminists that argue how we get screwed (and not in a good way) because of our gender are absolutely right. Men are unable to accept us as equals, no matter how many times we prove ourselves to them. From mechanics quietly peeing their pants when I tell them I KNOW they didn’t pull those brakes because the retainer clips from the factory are still on them, to the friend who refuses to hear my voice after 18 1/2 years, they are all alike.

I still want one. Dangit.  Just to … um… fix stuff, of course … you know. Stuff.


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