It’s A Celebration…

We’re in celebration mode around my way. Today is D’s birthday…he’s turning 30 so it’s one of those big deal birthdays. I think I’m more excited than he is because I know what his gifts are. He’s gotten into cigars recently so I got him a huge humidor and some cigars. I also enrolled him (and me too) in Rider’s Edge, the motorcycle riding class at Harley Davidson. So we’re going to be hopefully cruising by April. We’re having a small family get together tonight and a big to-do on Saturday. There are also a few surprises, that I won’t mention because he won’t get them until Saturday and I know he usually peruses my blog on Tuesdays (terrible that I know his schedule, right lol).

Anyway, happy Monday yall. And Happy Birfday, D. I love you!

 

Empire State of Mind…

It was a good night for my Bronx Boys last night…

That is all.

M-I-C-K-E-uggghh

On Halloween our door was open for a good part of the evening while we were handing out candy. After we were done we heard some skritch-scrathching (is that a word?) over our heads, but figured it was the furnace vents trying to get it together since we’d recently turned on the heat.

Why couldn’t we be right? As we were headed to bed, I heard D say “ummm…you see that?” and I knew. Fear, dread, and loathing crept into my soul. Yup, Mickey and nem had rolled in while we were on candy duty. Perfect timing…cold night, open door…new home. Le sigh.

I know I have no rational reason to be scared of something that’s two inches long and weighs all of about 4 ounces, but I saw “Ben”. I grew up in New York with the occasional project rat. Mouse always = project rat, even though I’m fairly certain what we have is a simple field mouse given the fact that we live next to the woods. Better yet, a lab rat I can work with because I invited it into my life. I’ve worked with them before and don’t mind holding them and cleaning their cages, etc. But this/these rodent(s), I most definitely did not ask to come over.

The next morning D sent me out to Home Depot to get some mice traps. Why was the aisle packed? A whole bunch of people swarming over some glue traps and bait bricks, hmmm. I looked at one woman and she just said to me “Halloween” and I knew that we were *righthere*.

It’s now Wednesday and Mickey hasn’t been seen since Sunday, so I’m assuming he’s dead, but I’m still treading lightly. I’m mad at myself cuz I’m still tripping over something the size of a ping pong ball, but I’m not going to rest easy until it’s  been a week mouse-sighting free or until I see dead mouse (and D picks it up–I don’t do rodent carcass). Ugh.

Halloween Hangover

For the first time in forever, Halloween fell on a weekend. I figured all the hot messes would make an appearance. Thankfully I was wrong but I did manage to catch this on Friday when I was out at a friend’s birthday dinner. Mind you dinner was at a pretty classy location where there was nooo Halloween-ing going on.

yeah, that’s definitely a fat dude dressed as the tooth fairy in a tutu

We live in a community with a lot of families, so I was fully expecting to have a grip of trick or treaters, but we got completely mobbed. I bought five big bags of candy–I mean like $25 worth–thinking I’d have plenty left over to bring to work on Monday. Ha.  

Trick or treating in our area is limited to between 6pm and 8:30pm. We hadn’t gotten any by 6:30 so I thought we’d be just getting a trickle of people. Then the doorbell rang. By 7:00 I think we opened our door about 40 times.  At 7:30 I had to make an emergency trip to the grocery store to get candy reinforcements. By 8 we were ready to just leave the door open and let the kids grab their own candy.

I had every intention of going to my girl’s party after we were done with the kiddies, but after all that I was straight wiped out. I ended up chilling with some neighbors and falling into bed. 

I remember growing up having the best costumes (only because my mom was a good seamstress and was able to hook me up on the cheap) and going through mine and my friends’ hoods on trick-or-treat pilgrimmages. We’d each end up with huuuuuge shopping bags full of candy that would still be largely untouched by Christmas. I’m pretty sure there is still some candy left at my parents’ house from Halloween 1986 or some ish like that. I don’t think I’ve EVER eaten all of what I got; I usually ended up trading with my friends for *ahem* homework assistance or stickers or something.

How was Halloween around your way? Any parties, etc?

To Get Shot or Not?

So now the piggy flu is a national epidemic and people are breaking their necks to get stabbed in the arm or get some stuff sprayed up their nose in order to prevent getting sick. People are acting like Michael Jackson is giving a performance from heaven and lining up overnight and sleeping outside of the clinic to be first in line to get their shot.

Because I work in the industry (granted, not the clinical side), I’ve been urged to get the shot and I’ve been asked if I will. My answer stays the same…a big ol’ hell to the naw. I’m all for being better safe than sorry, but something  about this just doesn’t seem right. I’m going to have to just take my chances and if I do get the swine sickness, be laid out feeling rugged for a few days.

Every year people die from the regular flu, so I’m having trouble seeing how this is any different just because a different age population is feeling the most effects. There are always several different strains of the flu with slightly different symptoms going around, and this in my view is no different. I keep hearing that it’s a mild virus, so I’m not worried.

What about you? Do you have plans to get the vaccine?

Gimp Status

So I’ve been meaning to write a post, but I haven’t been able to because I couldnn’t quite get my hand around the mouse properly and I was only able to type but so fast.

I seriously sprained my wrist last week and I’m in a hard splint (aka a daggone cast) for another six days so my right hand (yeah, I’m right handed) is all tilted to the side and sore. But only I can jack my own fool self up by moving furniture. I’m so damn hardheaded and impatient, I tried to move a 300lb entertainment unit that still had the TV on it by myself because I didn’t want to wait the five minutes for D to finish what he was doing. Fail. Big time.  The doctor at the urgent care place was like “you vs. furniture and the helpless,defenseless furniture won”–all while sqeezing my poor swollen wrist like a dinner roll and making me squeal in pain.

Anyway, I’ve learned to get around this beast on my wrist so I should be posting like normal. Not like people are still reading this stuff though….

Letting Go….

In my battle to conquer the demons of my past, my depression, and to make peace with the person that is me, I’ve come to the realization that in order for me to grow, I have to let a lot of people, baggage, situations, and the past go. You’d think I’d be more than happy to do this since I’m on a determined mission of good-life living, but in reality I’ve found it to be some of the hardest work I have ever done. Especially because a lot of the letting go involves my family.

As I come to terms with my parents and the massive issues they’ve given and shifted to me as I grew up, I’ve been able to see and relate to how necessary it is for some people to completely let their families go. Toxicity is a sonofabitch, and sometimes for your own sanity you have to let almost everyone, even the flesh and blood go. I’m also seeing how NOT easy it is to just completely walk away. I’ll probably never get to that point because I do have affinity for some of those folks, and can deal with them in small doses, but I admire those who have the strength sever ties completely if necessary.

Letting go is the hardest because only then are you truly alone. You become an island, finally responsible for your own thoughts and actions–no longer ruled by the need for outside vindication/approval and the thought of ‘what if so-and-so doesn’t like this?’. Only answering to your own desires and needs. And that is a scary place to be if you’ve never been taught how to hold yourself up. Most people get taught over the course of their childhood and adolescence how to live according to themselves, but I did not.

As miserable as was for me, it was almost comfortable having that ‘I may not get any support from these people no matter what I do, but I’ll keep on trying to get praise from them’ feeling. Letting it all go has been like losing my identity in a way. For the last almost thirty years my identity has been pain and anguish in some shape or form. This whole process of cleansing and starting fresh has been like learning to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time knowing that my center of gravity is the only thing keeping me aligned.

Where do I go from here? I have no idea how I’ll deal with the majority of my family in the future; what I do know is the way I ended up at this point is way beyond wrong. Some it is my own doing, some of it I’m a victim of circumstance and a family unwilling to acknowledge and (attempt to) mend its dysfunction. I felt guilty for making the choice to take care of me and make my fledgling new family (me, D and our *hopefully soon to come* children)  as healthy as possible, but I refuse to be my own victim any longer. I’ve already forgiven, so it’s up to them how they want to participate in my life. I’ll never stop loving them, but love is just as effective from a distance.

I’m so proud of finally being able to wake up without the weight of  world on my shoulders. It’s been such a liberating experience that I’ve managed to lose almost 20 lbs without even trying. Amazing how anguish can manifest itself as pudge. More amazing is the fact that I’ve finally learned that happy applies to me too. Happy finally applies to me….

Bootleg This

So like most people, I’m no stranger to the bootleg man. DVDs, CDs, jewelry, etc all obtained at a super cheap price and usually not quite right. You know…you just bought your copy of a movie that’s still in theaters, so you’re all hyped but someone’s head is in the middle of the screen. Or instead of Nikes with a swoosh on the side, your sneakers say “Mike” and have a sharp ass check mark on the side? Exactly…not quite right.

I know all about bootleggin stuff, but I always assumed that there are things that just can’t be bootlegged. Microwaves, refrigerators, that kind of thing. And of course, cars. Seriously, how the hell can you bootleg a car? Not like you can toss it in   extra burner and make another copy, right?

Wrong. Dead ass wrong. The other night I was headed to the store and I pulled up behind a pickup truck. At first I didn’t really pay attention to it, but then I saw this:

and a little closer…

Process that for a second. I’ll wait…

Yup, they bootlegged an Isuzu. I have no problem with it I guess, except for the fact that they spelled the name wrong. It’s Isuzu, not Izusu. Womp womp. You can’t tell from the pics, but the truck was waxed up and shiny like a fat woman trying to fit in a pleather catsuit. Fresh detailed wheels and all. *Insert Price Is Right ‘fail’ music here*

Of all things in this world, why bootleg a brand of vehicle that is known for being a deathtrap?? Perhaps when it’s time for me to purchase my next vehicle, I’ll get a bootleg Honda. I can see it now, my pink Ronda Daccord on 22s…

Waterworld

Last week, D and I bought a new washer and dryer and the guys were scheduled to come and install it on Thursday between 10 AM and 2 PM. Right from there, we should have known some stuff was going to be up. We asked for a specific time and they said…”well isn’t four hours a good enough window??” Nevermind people have jobs to go to and what not.

Fast forward to Thursday at 5PM. There was no washer, no dryer, and no laundry being done in my house. Dirty clothes piling up and what not (the old set had been taken away in prep for the new one). After two phone calls, they showed up at 5:45PM. An extra from the Sanford and Son set and K-Fed’s janky looking twin showed up at our front door with cheese eating grins, smelling of McDonald’s. I guess they were having an extended lunch before showing up at our place…C.P. time shouldn’t apply to things like this.

Forty five minutes later they tell us that the washer is all hooked up ready to go but they’d have to come back with the correct power cord for the dryer. Cool. We figured we’d run a test cycle just to see if the washer worked properly.

Half an hour later, I went to check on things and saw an ocean in the laundry room. Water, water everydamnwhere. All that was missing was a whale and maybe Noah ‘nem. A hot, wet ass mess. The laundry room is situated directly above the kitchen, so D ran downstairs and of course it was RAINING in my kitchen.

The water was running down through the ceiling, through the vents in the ceiling, and directly through the light fixture. Here’s what one of the light fixtures looked like…

and

Not great pics, since they were taken with D’s phone. But notice that there is water flowing out of the fixture and the cover cracked under the weight of the water. Yeeeaah, not a good look. The vent, which is right next to that light fixture also had water flowing out of it. There was a good 3/4 inch of water on the floor and everything that was on the kitchen table (including my handbag, which happened to contain my phone and work planner) were destroyed.

We had the good sense of mind to grab the camera and take pics before we started the cleanup. We were able to get the water mostly cleaned up from the kitchen and laundry room in short order, thank goodness. But now there’s a LOT of water damage to the ceiling, and that light is shorting out every time it’s turned on. Claims were filed with the homeowner’s insurance within two hours and pics were emailed to the adjuster not long after.

Of course the installation people were gone for the day so we couldn’t get in touch with them Thursday night. So rather than call, D went over to their shop on Friday morning and the manager tried to poo poo our situtaion, even after looking at our pics, saying there was no way they could be at fault. He said he’d send someone over to look at it and if it was their fault, they’d pay for it all.

Three hours later than their promised arrival D was back on the phone raising cane when his guy finally showed up at our house and saw that they never.hooked.the.hose.into.the.drain so all the water naturally ran from the washer onto the floor. He noted that the damage to our kitchen is pretty bad and told us he’d let the manager know. The guy even called us a short while later to tell us to be expecting a call from the manager.

It is now Tuesday and we have not heard from the manager. Our homeowners’ has already taken care of the issue, and our kitchen will be fixed this week and we will be indemnified for our other destroyed items. Once the insurance pays us, they will go after the company on our behalf. And of course, we will be in court with them trying to recoup all of our money and lost wages (D stayed out of work on Friday waiting for them to show up…pssshht). We’d rather handle it this way at this point because we know trying to mess with the company (I’m avoiding saying the name of the company for legal reasons…but it starts and ends with S…get it??) will get us nowhere and we’ll be left with a soggy ceiling and potentially fried electrical work.

I’m so extra done with this and can’t wait for it to be over. I can’t wait for my house to be completely dry! Jesus be a towel.

Change My Status…

Statistics being what they are, I was already getting worried about the integrity institution of marriage but over the last few weeks as wedding season has come to a close, I’ve heard more than a few comments along these lines:

“If I change my (Faceb.ook) status from ‘married’ to ‘it’s complicated’ or ’single’,  that’ll make him listen”

and

“I can’t wait to get married so I can change my FB and let my ex see just how happy I am”

and this one from my coworker made me cringe:

“When I get married, I’m going to wear a t-shirt that says “Bride” for a few weeks after so I can keep getting all of the attention”

I’m all about different strokes for different folks and I know people approach making that hopefully lifelong commitment in different ways, but I’m truly worried that marriage is quickly becoming simply a status symbol. Not so much in the way that marrying a baller or becoming a trophy wife would be a status symbol, but moreso a status symbol like getting your driver’s license and car is when you turn 16. Just something to do because everyone else does it and you want to be one of the cool kids.

I’m not one of those people to protest to the government about how we need to better this country’s family values and make marriage count more. That’s not necessary and I also don’t think that marriage is for everyone. I’m just saddened that somewhere along the lines marriage went from something you work for and something sacred to something that’s as trivial as a FB status or bride T-shirt.

When D and I decided to get married, please believe I wasn’t worried about my ex seeing that my last name changed or making sure that everyone around me, down to the bagger at the grocery store knew that I am now MRS. some-damn-body. We appreciated, honored, and pondered the fact that our worlds would never be the same–from last name changes, to filing taxes, and the fact that in God’s eyes we’re a team till death before taking that step. I just wish more people would stop worrying about the wedding and worry about the marriage.

Yeah, it was kind of fun to go on FB and change my status and watch as D did the same, but I dunno…I’m just rambling now. You get what I’m saying. Hit me up in the comment box if you’d like.