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Archive for August, 2008

Second to last

This weekend has been relatively delicious.

In the background of all of it, I’m missing the girls, I’m stressed about them not being where they belong (here), and I’m so looking forward to them being home.  (to prove my stress over the situation, my face lovingly exploded in my worst break out in years.)  I don’t think I feel all that evil for saying that part of what I’m looking forward to is a cessation of the every 5 minute phone calls from E.  Jesus Louise Christ.  The child is obsessed with me.  I get text messages, IMs and phone calls non-stop.  There were times where I had to say “E, I’m at work, I’ll call you when I leave,” but for the most part, in light of her difficulties earlier in the summer, I indulged her.  I didn’t want her to feel blown off and rejected by both of her parents.  But her persistency!  I had a friend over the other evening, and E called my cell phone.  I ignored it.  I was mid-sentence, and I knew she was fine (b/c I’d spoken with her 548 times that day).  So then the house phone rings.  I ignored it.  Then Beloved’s phone rings.  She just doesn’t take “i’m busy” for an answer. (J talks to me probably once a day, but is obviously more engaged with the people she’s with, and a little less desperate.)

But now they’re on a cruise, and there is no cell phone reception (as far as I know).  I can now peacefully count down the days until I can have real communication with the child and greet both of them back to our new home, which they haven’t seen since it was completely empty. (probably an entire separate post about the damned hurricane … I think they missed each other.  I think the girls are cruising to where the Fay has already been, and may have to be circling wider, but should be okay.  I sure hope they don’t get sea sick…)

They come home next Sunday evening, and I have the following week off as vacation, through Labor Day.

Dee-Lish.

So today, my biggest concerns are:

1) my cell phone contract that is up on the 23rd:  I really wanted an iPhone.  Really.  But our family plan is with T-Mobile, and all my excess income has gone into the house, and our list of things we need (rugs?  art?  lamps?) is so long!  So long!!  The timing for the iPhone just isn’t right, but that means I have to sign another 2 year contract with T-Mobile.  Which, I guess, is fine.  If I have to cancel it and pay the fee later on, I will just do that.

2)  my hair!  I had it short starting November, I think, and liked it.  But the last time I went, my hair-cutter man pissed me off with sexist, homophobic and quasi-racist comments, and I knew I’d never go back.  I picked where I’d be going from now on, a local place, but since it’s so damned daunting to go somewhere new, I haven’t had a cut since January.  Which means I’m basically growing out my hair.  Which is fine, if that’s what I’m going to do, but the short-hair layers aren’t working so well on longer hair, and decisions need to be made.  I’ve been working on collecting opinions (b/c my pros and cons are equal in number for both short and long hair), and I finally twisted my husband’s arm until he gave me an opinion yesterday.

The verdict:  It’s getting cut short.  Now that the decision is made, I’m excited and anxious and want to go NOW.  Of course, the place isn’t open NOW (I went for a walk this morning, I know this.)  I’ll probably have to do an after-work appointment one evening this week.

OKay – off to do laundry and shower before we finally go see The Dark Knight.  Finally.

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1)  Come January – which is really really soon – I will have a house cleaner!  I could likely afford it now, but we have so many rugs and wall hangings and decorative pieces of furniture to buy, it’s best to hold off.

2) Work is taking fun turns.

3)  My girls are coming home soon!  Woo hoo!!! (Okay, so 11 days feels soon, since we started with 7 weeks)

OOOPSSS!

4)  Sunks are a’spraying.  I’m not sure this is a bright spot because (a) I love the smell of skunk, or (b) my cat is inside – because really I love the smell of skunk from AFAR!!

5)  Ex-BFF’s Mom and I got together the other night.  Wounds are licked, grievances set aside, and adult-behaviors are dusted off and brought out for use.  I am happy. (allow me my optimism while the little ones are out of town and the adults are left to their adult-hood, please?)

(I also love my new house) (i also love my husband)

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Bullets

  • Last night, I went straight from work to a friend’s house, where I spent a little over an hour chatting with a few women, nibbling on olives and sipping on weird vodka-centered concoctions. (Seriously weird – we had a bottles of fizzy lemonade, fizzy lime water, plain old lemonade, and pomegranate juice sitting on the table, and just splashed stuff in until it tasted good.) Beloved was making me a steak dinner, and one friend had kids to tend to, so we had an end-time of 8 p.m. But instead of ending, we strolled through the neighborhood together to first look at one friend’s renovated kitchen, and then show them my new place. Beloved was prepared and had some food ready for them, too, and I basked in their adoration of the sheer perfection of our new digs. It was nice. I think Beloved was a little disappointed, though, because he worked his ass off in the house all day on a Zuska-assigned (and deadlined) project, and was so excited for me to see it. Coming in the door as a 4-some, and excited to show people our new place as a hole, made it harder for me to gush on the progress he made. He did a LOT of work, and things are taking great shape. It was lovely.
  • We are off to buy our next round of furniture tonight. I am unhappy because there is a problem with the manufacturer of the kitchen island that we found and fell in love with. It just keeps NOT coming. It is so perfect, I don’t really want to give it up yet. But our kitchen is big and empty, and there is nowhere for me to sit and hang out with my husband while he’s cooking for me.
  • I am now approximately 4 days beyond the worst drama I have ever lived through related to my kids and their horrendous excuse of a father. Over-reaction, impatience, intolerance and two very strong authoritarian personalities all twisted together to result in something grossly resembling abuse toward my older daughter. I cannot adequately or constructively explain the horrible feelings of helplessness and misery that I experienced last week. My dear friend tells me I need to go get my girls (and on Friday night, Beloved and I were alternating between getting in a car – any car – and driving all night to do just that or calling the police in the Middle-of-the-Country to get our kids pulled from a situation much-devolved). The problem being that I have no legal right to do so. If the crisis had continued – rather than eventually subsiding – then I could likely show up with the police and have the police observe the distress of the girls, and been permitted to remove them. But when less than 12 hours I receive a text message from E saying, “Dad told me what you said – not letting us come back is going a bit too far” – then my going to get them, over the Ex’s objections, would essentially make me the same as this person. [E’s text was triply disturbing because I did not verbalize that threat – What I did say was that if he followed through with his threats “we would have a serious pro -” The rest of that word was to be “problem” but he hung up on me before it came out of my mouth.]
  • The girls now say they’re fine, and are leaving their father’s house in a couple of days to go to their grandparents’ for a week and then on a cruise.
  • I am in the market for a lawyer. I am thoroughly capable of handling a similar situation for someone who isn’t me – but know better from my experience working for a family law judge to think that any judge would ever see my actions as advocacy for the girls. They instead choose to see all mothers as vindictive bitches who are upset that they’re no longer adored by their ex-husband, and choose to fight back by “alienating” the father from his children. I also live in a county where 50/50 splits are the most common. I do not know how an out-of-state parent factors into that known preference. I also need to know what my chances are for getting a revised order in the event that the girls feel guilty or like traitors to the point that they refuse to speak to an evaluator candidly, and say “everything is fine at my dad’s.” Like they’re saying all this week. As if last week didn’t even happen.
  • The cats have fully acclimated to the new house. Seems like that happened fast. We’re even letting Boots outside already. They spent some time getting lost amongst the rooms. Boots (the only one of the two with any brains) kept finding himself on the other side of the house from us, and would let out a couple of “meows” until we would call him, and then he would come running to where we were, just to flop on the floor nearby. Trixie just hid in closets behind boxes. (Her usual behavior – move or no move.)
  • That is all.

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I went for a quick walk into our village this morning to get me a cup of coffee.  It was around 9 a.m., and things were relatively quiet.  Right as I turned from a residential side street to the hustle and bustle of our village center (ha!), I merged in with a mother/daughter pair.  The mom was looking to be about 45 years old, and the daughter 13 or 14.  The daughter had on capri sweat pants and an oversized college sweatshirt.

The MOM – who looked to be approximately 45 years old, slender, attractive, time-to-touch-up-the-roots blond – had on shorts.  Short shorts.  I’m talking VERY short shorts.  I could SEE her ass.  It was hanging out of her shorts.  Like the bottom 1/4th of her ass.  When she was standing still, waiting for the light to cross, I thought “perhaps if that was my body, I would want to show it off?” Because she looked relatively toned … but only relatively.  I have friends in this town with more muscle tone than she had – but it wasn’t like *I* had on ass-revealing shorts.

So then, she had an itch.  It was way up on her thigh.  So she sticks her finger into the “leg” of her shorts, and scratches her thigh/crotch.  Now, I didn’t have a front view, but considering my rear view, I think I know why a truck driving by almost missed the red light and had to slam on his brakes.  There is no way, for how high she lifted her shorts, that she was not showing off some portion of her crotch.

I couldn’t really figure that out.  Was she not aware that she was doing that?  Was she not cognizant of the fact that her private bits would be on display to the general public if she (a) wore shorts really no bigger than underpants, and (b) proceeded to LIFT those shorts?  Was it oblivion?  Or was it on purpose?

We then got the cross signal, and she and her daughter rushed across the street and down the block to the same coffee place I was going.  They walked faster than me.  And I could see that the woman really wasn’t all that taught – not in the ass or in the thighs.  It was actually almost frightening, watching all that butt and thigh jiggle around like that.

If her shorts reached at least to the bottom of her ass, I would have never thought twice about her jiggle.  We all have jiggle.  Or at least most of us.  But if you’re going to strut around nearly-naked, I’m gonna notice, and I’m gonna comment.

But then I got my coffee, and I said hey to a professor-friend in the cafe, and I forgot about the naked-lady.

On my way home, I saw a father/daughter pair.  I initially thought the daughter was someone in the grade ahead of E.  But I quickly realized it was not her.  This girl had on a sweatshirt from the law school which has recently shot off from my undergrad.  She was arguing with her father.  He had on a sweatshirt from Boston College.  She was yelling at him, “Dad, it’s not that I’m being sensitive OR non-sensitive.  I’m not non-sensitive!”

I had to wonder why she was going to that law school.  Was it the only place she could get in?  Did she diverge from her parents?  Were her parents religious zealots?  Did she just have a huge desire to work in Government as a lawyer, and knew that was the surest path?

Mmm, coffee.

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