Posts Tagged: dad


1
Jan 10

resolution solution

confetti

i stopped making new year’s resolutions a few years ago when decided it was a futile exercise designed to make me feel shitty about myself; especially since i didn’t keep them up past january 3rd. this year i am taking it a step further – i am making a list of what i resolve not to do this year. i am optimistic i will have no problem with this year’s list…

for 2010, the year of the gggb, i  resolve NOT to:

  1. eat less, drink less, or exercise more.
  2. make my bed.
  3. stop procrastinating.
  4. text less & call more.
  5. listen to my voice mails.
  6. cut back on shoe, purse, & coat purchases.
  7. remember coupons.
  8. give up $4.00 daily lattes.
  9. kick my kids out of my bed at night.
  10. stop making multiple lists of crap to do that i wont do anyway.
  11. clean more.
  12. get up earlier than my kids on school days.
  13. squeeze my kids’ tushies less.
  14. drink enough water.
  15. floss. ever.
  16. lose that eternal 5 pounds.
  17. conserve light bulbs in these most “dire economic times.”
  18. worry about the small stuff or even most of the big stuff.
  19. stop missing my dad every day.
  20. brush my teeth before noon.
  21. stop picking my zits.
  22. eat less chocolate.
  23. “rescuing” stray change or bills from the laundry.
  24. stop embarrassing my girls by wearing my jammies & slippers to put them on the bus every morning.
  25. make anything for breakfast that can not be microwaved & ready for consumption in  23 seconds.
  26. keep the civil in civilization.
  27. make any real resolutions.

hmm. seems a lot like 2009…

**and  now, a segment,  new to 2010**

***The Hat’s Corner***

in an effort to bring humor back into humorless, this space is dedicated to you Mr. Hat, if you could just check this space regularly for personal messages since you are a regular reader now…

can you pick up some milk for the girls? 2%. 1/2 gallon is good.

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16
Oct 09

transition

straight-jacket

so it’s been awhile since i placed pen to paper, well actually fingers to keyboard, last. mostly, the reason is, that in order to allow my lawyer to keep his blood pressure down, i have to save the really juicy stuff until The Never Ending Divorce is over. and you know it ain’t easy for me to keep this thing PG. i can do pg 13 at best and that’s even questionable. i just can’t publish all the really cool stuff on which i have been recently working. the man is keeping me down. the other reason is, i am just feeling, kind of, dare i say it, uninspired lately. a little bit blah.

so, what do i write about then? more ramblings? about how much i hate the holidays & birthdays now? about how i still dread doing homework over 20 years later? what it’s like to be living with a functional mental patient, possibly a Bona Fide Sociopath, who is plotting my demise as i sit here? how the dreariness of the impending long winter is bumming me out? how hard it is to go through my dad’s things when my mom asks me to so i have had a pile of his sweatshirts in my trunk for weeks? how i have taken to hibernating like a forest creature with layer of fat and all? it’s just not much fun being me now, as glamorous as it all must seem to you, i know. even though i am a “swinging single” now, i am in month 15 of a ridiculous divorce & impossible living situation and i am facing more major holidays without my father. i still cant seem to grasp the finality of his death yet. when i try to face it, it engulfs me in a giant wave of grief that i fear will drown me. and i wonder will i ever reclaim the part of me that died with him that same day? i am just so tired of being held hostage in my own life, trying to move forward but being held back. watching helplessly, the toll it’s taking on my beautiful, innocent children. knowing they deserve so much better than this & being able to do nothing about it. being held back by the very person that filed the damn papers in the first place. it’s infuriating. let me give you a small glimpse: today he had an electrician here to try to rig up the switches, to limit my utility usage. a few months ago, The Mental Patient removed 48, yes 48, light bulbs in my kitchen because he claims i leave the lights on too much. my kids now sit in semi-darkness to do homework. but i am the crazy bitch, right, asshat? perhaps i am: clearly i was mentally incapacitated the day i married him.

but i started this blog and i now feel a responsibility to my enormous readership to keep it fresh. keep it going. and i have scraps of paper here and there of half baked blog ideas, but none of them are really calling to me to complete right now. for example, i have a killer disney rant, another rant about the movie, field of dreams, my adventures this summer at what i like to call the “elder-pool” at my mom’s “community,” my evening as a chaperon at a sleep-over party for eighteen 9 year olds, why i think wawa is a fascinating commentary on society, tons of material on all the time spent at the supermarket, my evolution of cell phone dependence, funny stuff about my childhood, endless stuff about my dad, and the real meat of it all: my journey of self discovery which lead to my committal to my own happiness at any cost (and in those 3 little italic words lie most of the aforementioned juiciness). and seriously, stay tuned for all that stuff, because it’s all fabulous. well it will be. really.

why am i telling you all of this? i am not sure. for filler i guess. i am just in transition like the season. and so is this blog.  because just like going to the gym, i  feel an obligation to write, but not really the desire. sigh. stick with me though, i will perk up again soon. i always do. until then there is vodka and my g-spot

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29
Sep 09

i heart guinea pigs

more random & fascinating confessions most of which my mom shouldn’t read:

i am a major underachiever & huge procrastinator, but i did pretty well in school anyway. i am more of a street smarts, common sense kind of girl, but i always wonder what amazing things i would have accomplished had i truly applied myself. although, my english scores were very high, i was in basic skills math & retard science. i still struggled in those too. eventually i grew boobs and said fuck it.

i may have once slept with a mafia don. i am not investigating any further.

i stalked a boy in high school. okay, several. on foot. with binoculars.

uncle buck is my all time favorite movie. i named one of my daughters after one of the characters.

it’s not the posting of unearthed sex tapes or naked pictures (both of which i have never wittingly submitted to) on the web that concerns me. it’s if my gut looks fat or if you can see the cottage cheese on my ass that truly worries me.

i  find the smell of beer on a man’s breath to be sexy. that is really warped.

i still have all of my sticker albums. the stickers are in MINT condition. most still in original packaging.

when i get mad i shop. take that visa! i shopped a lot during my crappy marriage. this did not help my crappy marriage at all, but i have a kickin’ wardrobe.

i obsessively use the notes app on my phone to remember song lyrics so i can google them later to get the title & download them for my ipod.

i started a female pant suit revolution at my first job fresh out of college in 1993. i have authority issues. they breathed a sigh of relief when i quit. i am not meant for corporate life.

when i was 21, i came home late from a date & i busted my dad smoking pot. we went into the house & he sat on the bed of my childhood room while i lectured him on the evils of its usage. for an hour.

i worked at the freehold raceway mall before it opened to set up the gap there. when it opened they hired all new people. working at the gap sucks. i still fold my jeans the way i was taught.

as a teenager & into college, i shoplifted from mostly any retail establishment for which i worked. i found it to be quite a thrill. i totally understand winona rider.

when i was a freshman in college, i briefly dated a high school senior. i went to his prom.

sometimes i wonder if the people on billboards look familiar to me because i actually know them or just from driving past them every day.

when i watch really old reruns & there are old people on the show, i say to myself, that person must be dead by now. conversely, i wonder how the child actors turned out.

in college i peed behind a dumpster. several times. i also passed out on the floor of the girl’s bathroom in my freshman dorm after puking my guts out. several times. i drank a lot in college. i was nicknamed “booter.”

i had a major obsession with garfield when i was kid. i drew him constantly, read every book, and set up a residence for him & his girlfriend in my room. i had about 30 or so stuffed garfields & pals. i also slept with one of my stuffed garfields (& a nightlight) until i got married. i still have them all, but i am trying to get rid of the husband.

after college, while looking for a real job, i was a bank teller. since, i suck at math, my till was short often. i got fired. i still make sure all of my money is facing the same way & in order of denomination in my wallet.

i was an ugly duckling: i was born with one eye that crossed in & wore bifocals from 18 mos to 16 yrs.  my feet turned inward and i had to wear shoes on a metal brace until they faced out. i was never allowed to sit “indian style.” when i was 12, i was diagnosed with minor scoliosis. i cleaned up nice though.

i used to get spontaneous bloody noses from allergies as a kid without warning. this was a fun party trick and most endearing to the hostesses.

at the end of my senior year of high school, a bunch of my friends & i stole a street sign with my name on it by knocking it down with a baseball bat. we were unaware that this was a felony. i still have it displayed in my home.

i had a “valley girl” sleepover party for my 13th birthday. everybody had to dress like valley girls & talk that way. i was like, oh my gawd, a huge dork.

mere days after i got my license and brandy new honda civic, i smashed it into a car that was pulling out of a parking spot at woodbridge mall because i gunned the gas instead of the stomping on the brakes. my bff was in the car. after the information exchange with the bewildered driver, we still went shopping. i bought a pair of sneakers which i then returned a week later but i made my mom drive me. it was years before i ever drove back there. the woman said to my dad, “meester, i don know where she came from.” my crazy bff still drove all over the place with me.

the manner in which i lost my virginity would most certainly be considered date rape today. it was over 21 years ago & i still have not forgiven that guy. i most likely never will.

surgeries: age 12: 8 molars removed age 15: nose job, age 18: 4 impacted wisdom teeth removed, age 21: breast reduction, age 30 & 33: 2  c-sections. age 35: lumpectomy (benign, thank god) age 36: corrective eye surgery for the cross. i sincerely hope i am done.

i secretly love lite fm. i have an entire playlist on itunes. i know all the words to most of the songs. brandy & wildfire are in my top 10.

i LOVE guinea pigs. i had 2 as a kid before it was cool to own them. i had a sleepover with my childhood bff & let “miss piggy” run around in her sleeping bag. the pig left many “gifts.” her mom was not pleased. the modern day guinea pig cult following pleases me to no end. i got not 1, but 2 for my kids when the divorce started. $200 later i realized they are cute, but a pain in the ass to take care of when you live immigrants style in a tiny room with 2 other small people. my kids lost interest in the piggys & i gave them away on craig’s list after 2 months. i still feel guilty & hope they are living happy little guinea pig lives. now i just collect guinea pig books & leave it at that.

my best friend in high school and i spent hours after school cataloging every possible way we wanted to be kissed. we didn’t have boyfriends, but we once hooked up in a foursome situation, latter dubbed “switcheroo with ____ & sue.” i was thrilled until i figured out they just both wanted to hook up with her and i was a mercy killing. she was & still is way hot, no matter how many kids she pops out. you know who you are, bitch.

when i 20 years old and flying home from UF for the holidays one year, i sat next this weird artsy couple. i had the window seat and was essentially trapped. the lady grabbed my hand & said she did “readings” and proceeded to read my palm without my consent. she told me that when i was 40 i would have a major illness but i would recover. i have obsessed about it ever since. when i was 36 & had a lump removed from my breast, and i wondered if that was the illness of which she spoke, but i couldn’t be sure. i have 2 more years to worry about it. so now i fear, “what if i am going through this terrible divorce (14 mos so far) and then i die (god forbid) or the world ending prophecies are true and i never get to enjoy my freedom?” sigh. i am sure she has long since forgotten me & that plane ride, but here i am 17 years later still worrying. it made me realize that you can have a lasting impact on people, positive or negative, long after you have moved on. so be more responsible, you crazy palm readers.

last year, i went on  a date with a 25 yr old. during dinner he got carded and i didn’t. i then strongly suspected he was not even 21. i went back to his dorm room anyway. i was curious.

i have had at least 13 different jobs i can remember & sucked at all of them. in no particular order: ceramics assistant at a camp   (i spilled an entire bag of slip), babysitter (i got nail polish all over someone’s table), grocery store cashier (before the days of scanners), marty’s shoes store clerk, gap sales person, gap kids saleperson ( hello, may i help you find a size?), secretary (for a day – i left after lunch & never returned), bank teller ( we know how that went), payroll sales person at ADP ( i  faked most of my sales numbers), interior design assistant (i helped her organize by throwing out most of her source materials), wallpaper/window treatment sales person inside a paint store (i prayed i got the measurements correct when it was time for pickup/installation), pharmaceutical sales rep ( i was terrified of the office staff & drs. & my main drug was a market dog), psychological study research assistant ( i fudged all of my “research” for some poor dude’s thesis), & interior designer of my own ‘firm” for 11 months (when i was 9 months preggers, i had to sue my very first clients for stopping a check. the entire endeavor actually cost us money. i gladly gave up that empire soon after the first baby came).

when i was 10, i became completely obsessed with puberty & getting my period. i had an entire “starter kit” full of the proper materials under my bed that was ready to go when the time came (it sat dormant for 5 years). i studied the book, what’s happening to me, way before anything was actually happening to me. i still own it. i was actually happy when i sprouted 2 armpit hairs one day. i did flips when i got a giant bush (subsequently, i became a fastidious groomer way ahead of my time when i discovered i could do neat tricks with a hair clipper). i was a strange child.

i have a problem with honesty. too much of it. this why i tell you people all of this crap that is better kept to myself. i most likely have a weird need for self-deprecating attention.

baby hershey, pig #1. way cute.

baby hershey, pig #1. way cute.

cuddles, pig #2. also way cute.

cuddles, pig #2. also way cute.

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28
Jun 09

firefly, firefly, fly away home…

 

 

 

i don’t know why i was so surprised to see the fireflies last night. i’m sure they have been out already without my noticing them. but it caught me off guard because they reminded me of my dad, of whom, i think about every minute of every day anyway.

when i was a little girl, okay young girl, smart-asses, my dad and i spent many a summer’s night catching fireflies and collecting them in jars. something about the way they lit up fascinated me. i just loved to see the tiny lights sparkling against the black summer sky. but more than anything, i loved that time alone with my pops. we would sit in the darkness together while he imparted his pearls of wisdom to me (“susanne, pearls, these are pearls, i’m giving you”) punctuated with my cries of, “hey there’s one, dad! did you see it?!”

it was always the same routine: after dinner, i would beg my mom to prematurely dump the contents out of a jar and wash it out for me. then i would trot off to my find my dad and drag him out to his “workshop” in the garage where he would punch air-holes in the metal lid. we would ceremoniously gather grass, leaves, and twigs to recreate the firefly’s natural habitat. once satisfied with the authenticity of the insect lodgings, we would run around for what seemed like hours gently catching the unsuspecting innocents in our cupped palms and then gingerly placing them in the jar. when i say gingerly, i mean stuffing them in the jar before they could escape my sticky 8 year old grip. when it was finally time for bed, and probably a shower, i would bring the jar into my room and set it beside my bed so i could watch the bright creatures glow until i happily drifted off to sleep. in the morning, after my father left for work, i would bring the jar outside and emancipate the critters, so we could start all over again that night.

to this day i am still thrilled when what i call “firefly season” begins and sad when it ends. sad not only, because these mini magical creatures are gone for another year, but because it signifies the end of the carefree days of summer and reminds me of a simpler time in my life. a simpler time i yearn to recapture.

so what i realized, is that we spend so much time, effort, and money trying to create the perfect memories for our children. we take them on lavish vacations or try to document every moment of their lives with every media imaginable, but what really matters is the small stuff. its so cliche, but so unshakably true. children don’t really want things (as much as they demand them), they really want our love and our undivided attention. the time spent together doing simple things is what matters most to the people in our lives. now that i no longer have my dad around, i am grateful for the memories i have of time spent with him, not the things he bought me or places he took me. just the simple time when i walked in the house and upon seeing me he said “what’s up susie, girl?” i would give up any amount of material possessions to hear that just once again because the unabashed, generous giving of himself, was my father’s greatest gift to me.

scientists tell us the reason fireflies light up their miniscule rear-ends is to signal a mate and to communicate with each other, but they really signaled me to pull out another sweet memory of my best friend from the recesses of my hippocampus. because even though his things remain with us, they are just things in the end. it’s the memories i have of him that comfort me and remind me that we did have a rich life together even if it the time was too short. to know the time we spent together was full and truly enjoyed.

so, please, keep lighting the way little ones, we can all use some extra light in the darkest of our nights.

Firefly, Firefly, Fly Away Home...
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