things that make you go hmmm....

.....it's the kids' first day of spring break and we woke up to snow. it has been snowing now for a little more than an hour. the ground isn't covered yet, but i'm wondering just how much of this white stuff we're supposed to get. ......i just finished the girl w/ the dragon tattoo last night, not realizing that this is a trilogy and not realizing that the author died about six years ago. .......we went to my parents' house yesterday for dinner. don't ask my why. i honestly have no idea why i said yes when she asked me. anyway...while we're there she asks the girl if there are any movies out there that she'd like to see (the day before the girl asked me if we could see rango this week while they're on spring break). the girl said no, not really, nothing out there interests her right now. my mom then said, well, would you like to go bowling or skating or out to lunch or something this week....the girl said, i have a book to read for school this week. omg. it is true that's she's reading a tale of two cities, but she basically told my mom she has to wash her hair and it's going to take all week. i wonder if my mom got the hint? ......i realize that my mom comes to some of the girl's soccer games and recently has invited us to dinner, but we have to keep in mind that in the last 14 years this is probably the most repeated attention the parental units have shown my kids (and really this is more directed at the girl than the boy). i think my mom thinks if she comes to soccer games that makes up for 14 years of neglect.

i'm not glowing enough

apparently i do not have what it takes to write marketing material for an ethnic haircare company. when i applied for this job about a month ago i immediately thought of coming to american and eriq la salle hawking soul glo. (i really preferred him on ER.) about two weeks ago i had an interview. i did not say anything because every time i've had an interview before i talked about it and didn't get the job. so, i started thinking like a baseball player who wears the same dirty socks all season when he's on a winning streak--i would not jinx myself by speaking of the interview.

it went really, really well. at least i thought so at the time. the company is small and they do indeed make black haircare products. the two women who interviewed me were friendly and gave me positive feedback. during the interview they asked me what my favorite book was. i said eat, pray, love (mainly because that's what had been on my mind at that point, not because that is my fave book ever). they then gave me about 30 minutes to write a tweet, blog post and and email ad for eat pray love. holy crap. again, they said it was good. they left me w/ the impression that they liked me for the job and that they would be moving quickly to fill it.

i called a week later (something i don't normally do because companies tell you not to call). i called again this week. she said she was just the first step on the interview ladder and she was sure there would be more interviews to come, but they were swamped right now. ok, i still had hope.

last night i got an email from the company thanking me for my time but telling me they didn't think i was a good fit for the position. ah....nice way to kick off the weekend, rejected. there is no soul glo in my future.

taking deep breaths

i guess having an exit plan (ie losing the house and moving to oklahoma) makes me feel a bit better, even if it is not a plan we love. i do not feel as hopeless these last few days. maybe it's the fact that i have something more productive to do than cleaning house (ie freelancing). maybe it's the fact that the sun has been shining and things are growing and birds are chirping (and the grass needs cut in a bad way). maybe it's the fact that i turned the radio back on. in bouts of depression i am like a nazi prison guard with myself, although when it's happening i am not aware of it. when i am in a funk i deprive myself of music. it's so incredibly stupid really. but, prince is coming to town and i turned the radio on to try to win tickets (epic fail) because as much as i love the sexy purple one, tickets are not in the budget. so, the radio has been on most days and i am the better for it.

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the guys were out of town at a karate competition this weekend (the boy racked up....3 first places, a couple of seconds and thirds) so the girl and i played lots of cards and watched chick flicks. she also had a kick ass soccer game, which my parents attended. afterwards they took us to dinner.

during the game my mom proceded to air my sister's laundry and when she finished she just looked at me and said, i'm sure she wouldn't have wanted me to tell you all of that. ya don't say? and she wonders why i don't give her more details of my life. i'm still stewing over the fact that it took her two days to call me after i told her about my cancer scare. really? fucking really???? during dinner my dad made reference to the horrid t-shirt he was wearing. first, you should know, if mork from ork was a gay redneck, my dad would have his look nailed down. my dad wears w-i-d-e rainbow suspenders (all the fucking time) AND a belt. he wears them w/ t-shirts or polo shirts, he's not picky. and always a baseball hat. so we're sitting at dinner, the suspenders are across from me. he is wearing a t-shirt that is tye-dyed burnt orange and has a very bright, southwestern grapic on it. this is a shirt you'd find at a road side stand for $2 i'm quite sure. my dad made sure to tell me his sister sent it (and another) to him for his birthday. the birthday that was a week ago that i have not yet acknowledged. (neither has my brother.) the weekend that they were out of town and took two days to call me.

i should feel like a horrible daughter for not wishing him a happy birthday but...in all fairness i can't remember the last time he wished me happy birthday, even if i was in his face on my birthday. forget about calling me. also, i can't remember the last time i gave him a gift that he used or even took out of its packaging. so....what's the point?

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the interview i did on friday, with the lady who got the job that i so badly wanted, made me reazlie that i was not a good fit for that job. although i thought my passion for gardening and my stellar work history and writing abilities would be a perfect fit for the position, i now see that when working for a non-prof at that level it helps to be connected to people in the community. this woman was spouting details about supporters and people in the gardening community at large that i'm sure i would never know. i think she comes from a non-prof background as well, so there's that.

alles klar herr kommissar

well, mostly. i do have a tiny cyst behind the left nip, but they say cysts are common in breasticles. just because there is something in there i will have to go back in 6 months to make sure it's not growing or anything. whew!

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we talked to the kids this weekend about how dire the straits are. we didn't go into great detail but we did tell them there is a possibility that we'll have to move. as in give up the house and tote our asses to ok to mooch off of the fil for awhile. lord knows this isn't what we want to do, but it would be the most practical thing to do if it comes to that. the boy's first thought was--omg if we move i won't get my black belt in the fall. he's 11 so i can understand his point of view. that is his world. this big picture shit doesn't really compute in his head. the girl's first thought was--omg i'll have to leave everything i've ever known. i think she is more worried about it than the boy.

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isn't it ironic? one of the freelance gigs i just picked up is to write an article about the botanical gardens i so desperately wanted to work for. in fact? tomorrow morning i'm interviewing the person who got the exact job i wanted. nice.

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freelancing truly is a feast or famine gig. well, i can't say FEAST because it's not, but i either have no work or several projects at the same time. this week i have four things going, all with deadlines over the next few days. while the extra money is certainly needed, it's not a ton of money and two of the jobs are for a company that takes forfuckingever to pay.

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i finally watched the movie eat, pray, love. i think i loved it almost as much as i loved the book. i know the movie didn't get stellar reviews and when i posted about it on fb some said they didn't like it and one even hated it. i think the story hit me at the right time---it's all about internal conflict and life changes, and that's exactly where i am right now. and, while i like julia, her top lip is really distracting, it seems to have grown. james franco has begun to creep me out a bit. javier bardem, on the other hand, omg....steamy.

a tale of two titties

scene: last wednesday

i am drifting through the house cleaning, wondering if we really will be able to stretch the money out another month and wondering how the fuck it can be possible that despite the fact that i haven't worked in two years that we OWE on our taxes, and wondering why companies are taking so fucking long to hire people, when the phone rings.

me: hello? (i can see from caller id that it is my friend big t and not a medical bill collector)

big t: hey! how are you?

i have come to think of big t as my guardian angel on earth in many ways. we don't talk every week or see each other all that often, but she has been a blessing in my life since day one. she too is unemployed and so we commiserated on the state of the economy for awhile. both of our call waitings went off a few times so we got off the phone.

i listen to my voicemail.

voicemail: hello, this is the breast clinic, we need you to call us.

me: (thinking) odd, wonder why they didn't just send me a paper telling me everything was fine.

i call back.

breast clinic: yes mrs. ck, you had a mammogram last week and the doctors want you to come in for another one and an ultrasound. because you have fucked up insurance we can't do both procedures on the same day though.

me: wait what? they want me to come back in because they images were bad or something?

breast clinic: (very gently) no ma'am. you have a nodule on your left breasticle and the doctors want more images of it because it wasn't there before.

me: (in my head) omfg i am going to die. i'm going to die. (i tend to hyperbole.) i have always been the healthy one and the hubs has all of the medical issues and i am going to fucking die first. i don't even have a history of breast cancer. i didn't even feel a fucking lump. wtf?

me: (out loud) ok. (breathing) ok. when can i make the appointment. friday? good. thank you.

i'm sobbing, close to hyperventilating. this cannot be happening to me. it is a wednesday. i am unemployed. we are about to go under. my daughter is on a school field trip in dc having a good time and my boy is at school, missing his sister this week. this cannot be happening to me.

i call the hubs, selfishly disregarding the fact that he could be in the middle of a meeting or in one of his stores or that he's at work for fuck's sake.

me: (sobbing, probably garbled and unclear) ihadamammogramlastweekandtheywantmetocomebackforanotherbecausetheyfoundalump. (i'm pretty sure that's exactly how it came out).

the hubs: what?!

me: they found a lump. i have to have another mammogram and an ultrasound.

the hubs: ok, it's ok. hey, it's going to be ok. i'll be home in a little bit.

i called big t back, or she called me (i can't remember which).

she picked up a thread of a conversation we'd been having earlier.

me: (interrupting her mid-sentence) i have to go in for a second mammogram, they found a lump. (then i started crying again.)

big t: when? i'll come with you.

the next two days actually took about 674 million years because that's how time flies when you are waiting on something like a second mammogram or test results or the like.

i spend the next two days feeling myself up. i still can't feel anything. the hubs spends the next two days researching breast cancer. he tells me that most likely they will tell me it's a cyst or something non-cancerous. worst worst case scenario will not be death like i am assuming because if it is something they've caught it early. most likely it would be a lumpectomy or removal and radiation/chemo. he is strong. he comforts me and reassures me. i know though that he is scared to death too.

big t not only goes to the appt. w/ me but insists on driving me because she's sure when they tell me it's just a cyst i will be too emotional to drive. the hubs has to be around for the boy when he gets home from school and to take him to karate and the girl is due back from her dc field trip that evening. (turns out she didn't get home till 8 pm). the hubs is all kind of sideways that he can't take me to the appt. it's because of our damn astute kids. if someone else was picking them up like that they would know something was up.

friday comes. i get the boob squished. big t and i wait. and wait.

the nurse: there is a cyst or nodule in there, it's behind your nipple that's why you can't feel it. the doctor still wants the ultrasound next week to see exactly what kind of thing it is, but it doesn't look like cancer. it's not all big and scary looking.

i teared up a little bit: so it's not cancer?

the nurse: well, i'm not a doctor but no, i don't think so. after the ultrasound they might want to see you every six months to check on it, but it just looks like a cyst.

big t: see! i told you. you may now bow down to me and acknowledge my supremeness and say big t i will never doubt you again (i'm paraphrasing.)

i call the hubs and give him the good news. we all breathe a sigh of relief.

(i gave this the title a tale of two titties because the girl is reading a tale of two cities for school and for some reason it made sense to me)

i have a great simile

or maybe it's a metaphor...it is just after 4 am so i really don't know and don't care.

being unemployed is like facing the zombie apocolypse.

the hubs and i recently watched the first season of amc's the walking dead. it's a zombie series based on "graphic novels" (comic books). ok, before you start laughing and looking down your nose...it's really fucking good. i'm kinda pissed i don't know when the next season starts. hell, i don't even know if the graphic novels for the next season have been written. this is the type of zombie show that is perfect for people who don't really like zombies in that they are not all stereotypically walking around screaming brains. it is not a horror show, per se.

being unemployed has had it's ups and downs....kinda like if the world were infected with zombies and lots of people died off and society as we know it collapsed. the day to day pressures are gone---appointments, jobs, etc. but the whole survival thing is a bitch. you have minor accomplisments--an interview/slaying a pack of "walkers"before they eat you; some freelance work/finding other humans and setting up camp with them; seeing light at the end of the tunnel; thinking maybe it's just this one location that's been affected by the mutant zombie fever.

at some point--like maybe when someone in your camp gets bitten and turns into a zombie--or you are literally weeks (as in less than six) away from the end--hope fucking flies out the window.

hiding the bra and panties

i had my annual who-ha check-up today (turns out my last one wasn't as recent as i thought it had been). i haven't been to an actual gyno in years...since i had the boy and no longer worked in the same town as the gyno office was. for years i've been seeing a nurse practitioner in my own town. i have no major medical problems so i don't warrant a lot of medical care; take no meds, etc. it's convenient and i like the woman i see.

i went through all of the normal stuff, blood pressure--check (it's always good); previous numbers (cholesterol, good and bad, always great). i think these things surprise some people because i am overweight and i smoke, though i have lost weight since my last visit and i do think about quitting smoking (when life is not so stressful).

then comes the lovely, strip, put on this stupid gown that opens in the front (thank god my dr's office uses the cloth gowns instead of the paper ones because those suck!) and kitty (that's what i'm calling my nurse practitioner because her name is the same name as my bro/sil's cat!) will be in in a minute. i strip. fold the clothes---HIDE THE BRA AND PANTIES under the clothes. why oh why do we do this? really. but, i did it and thought how stupid i was being while i was doing it.

kitty comes in w/ her student follower. she introduces her. holy shit it's a woman i worked w/ 11 years ago! at first i didn't place her, but i knew i knew her. we finally figured out how we knew each other and went on from there. so very strange. a few years after she left the company we worked for she went back to get another degree....this time in nursing, and she graduates in a couple of months. wow. thankfully she didn't stay in the room for the who-ha exam because while having two kids and being a woman in her 40s means lots of people have looked down there...not really comfortable having someone i used to work w/ see me in that position.

the exam was uneventful until kitty looks at my chart and says...hey...it's time for another mammogram. ugh. really? i just had one like....i don't know a couple of years ago. as i'm waiting to get my blood testing done (my other favorite part of the visit--she's doing the routine stuff but also some additional testing to find out if my irregular aunt flo visits are pre-menopausal or something else) kitty says i can go next door to the imaging center in 10 minutes to get the girls squashed. lovely.

the first time i had a mammogram i dreaded it, because it was unknown, but really it wasn't as bad as i'd heard they were. today...holy crap it felt like the tech really had it out for my boobs (even though she was perfectly nice) because i swear to god they were squashed beyond recognition. if there was a lump or cyst or anything in there i'm sure she popped it. ewwwwww...yes i know that's gross and impossible, but still.

sometimes i just shake my head

i've written a few posts bitching and moaning about life and just haven't published them because really, i'm pretty sure you're tired of hearing me whine. i know i'm tired of it.

instead i will be all snarky and talk about the wife of the girl's soccer coach. i think i've mentioned her before. i'm intrigued by their family dynamic--the difference in ages between the husband and wife; the varying ages/ethnicity of the kids; etc.

the wife is in her 20s and the husband is around my age (i'm guessing) which is early 40s. a week or so ago we pulled into the parking lot for one of the girl's indoor soccer games. the coach's truck looked like it might have been on an episode of punk my ride or something. the back window was decal laden with scroll work and each family member's name listed. the hubs and i just looked at each other thinking, yep, the wife had that done.

this week at practice the wife was talking about listening to a band over the weekend and how they played oldies music. i couldn't resist so i asked her....and what is oldies music to you? to be fair she said neil diamond. then she showed me her new tattoo....it goes across her shoulder blades....it is the scroll work from the truck window and the family names. (yes, she also had a tramp stamp)

their eldest daughter (and the one the girl plays soccer with) is in the girl's grade and they are going on a trip to dc next week. last week they got their room assignments. the coach's wife said her kid was happy w/ her assignment but that another friend wasn't going because the girl she had to room w/ is one that apparently nobody likes. this woman then began to talk smack about the kid that nobody likes....saying she stinks and she's weird and she always "hits" on her. i was stunned. completely stunned. don't get me wrong, there are kids my kids go to school w/ that i don't like, but....i don't go around talking about them like i'm in middle school. that is exactly what this mom was doing. i know my mouth was hanging open...but before i could think of something to say she saw something shiny and walked off. (ok, she went after a soccer ball, but still, you get the point.)

i think she's probably closer in age to the girls on the team than to her husband. i always wonder about couples like that because while i'm sure (as the hubs says is almost always true in these cases) sex is the big draw at this stage of the game.....what the hell are they going to do in 20 years? or 30 years?