I've been thinking about this a lot the last few days.
What do I want out of the next year?
Do-able and Achievable:
1. I want to lose ten to fifteen pounds by eating more vegetables, drinking less (note I am not eliminating this -- I'm no sadist), and using the Wii fit every morning.
2. I want to use the new space in the basement to help me organize the house and clean out the clutter. I want everything in this house to have a home that makes sense.
3. I want good test results. And if not, I want to get rid of everything as soon as possible.
More Nebulous And Out Of My Control:
4. I want to get my family communication issues resolved and find some peace with my sister. I don't think we will ever be more than that -- and I have serious doubts that she will participate in anything like this.
I would like the next year to be happier and healthier than 2009. So far it is shaping up to be 2009's twin, however, and we haven't even really gotten started. I would like to have one year where my children don't have to listen to me explain horrendous things to them. I would like a year where the worst things we have to worry about are lunches and schedules and where the missing mittens are. But as Forrest says, life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you gonna get.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Merry Christmas...
The kids got wii games, clothes, books, Barbie stuff out the yingyang for DQ, game-building software for The Boy, and some board games.
Hubby got lots of Home Depot gift cards, and a few little things from me.
I got a basement well on the way to being finished, a heated chafing dish and digital picture frame, and a wonderful framed set of pictures of Kathy and our grandmother, both at age 5, and they look almost identical. Oh, and a giant "fuck you I don't want anything to do with you" from Louisiana.
And the soap opera continues...
Hubby got lots of Home Depot gift cards, and a few little things from me.
I got a basement well on the way to being finished, a heated chafing dish and digital picture frame, and a wonderful framed set of pictures of Kathy and our grandmother, both at age 5, and they look almost identical. Oh, and a giant "fuck you I don't want anything to do with you" from Louisiana.
And the soap opera continues...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I Suck At Everything Right Now
I am having the most horrible, awful wishes about wanting to just get in the truck and drive somewhere --anywhere-- and avoid all Christmas everything. I don't want to wrap presents or bake or go anywhere or have people over or anything else. Everywhere I look I am reminded of what I've lost this year and what I'm in danger of losing, and I am honestly not handling any of it well. I am feeling completely selfish and whiny and would quite prefer to go curl up in a fetal position under my bed for the next two weeks. Actually what I want is to go up to some cabin somewhere remote and just hide from the world for a while.
Not a possibility.
I hate impossible things.
Not a possibility.
I hate impossible things.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas this year is some good news from down south.
Love,Karen
PS -- I'll leave out the Coors and sardines for you, like when we were kids
All I want for Christmas this year is some good news from down south.
Love,Karen
PS -- I'll leave out the Coors and sardines for you, like when we were kids
Sunday, May 03, 2009
and what now...
Have just returned from the annual 8th grade whirlwind tour of DC -- no barfing this year, but it was the soap opera to end all soap operas in terms of romance drama with the kids. And that was a relief -- I actually quit chewing my nails during the trip (am of course back to that now). The morning we left, OFL called me off the bus to tell me that "Our Friend" was discussing employee assistance with the union prez in his office, which made me feel better, and worse.
Because I'm a rat.
I can rationalize this whole thing out the ass, but the feeling remains -- I've really ratted someone out to The Man.
The group that intervened over the winter got together recently when we learned that Our Friend had started doing things that endangered her job and we all agreed that the next step had to be taken and the admins had to know, but one by one they chickened out until literally I was left on the phone with the last one when OFL arrived for the official meeting to discuss a problem... and I had to go face him alone. That was the one specific thing I told the group I did not want to have to do alone, and yet they left me to it anyway.
I was so pissed about that.
I had The Discussion and gave him the facts and avoided the names of those who chose not to appear, and I cried and shook because I was so upset we had gotten to this point, and OFL was understanding and matter-of-fact in terms of where we would go next and how he would approach things -- and what would happen if all else failed. He left and made calls and cancelled meetings, and I went and threw up in the ladies' room. Courage means doing the right thing even though you're a shaky weepy want-to-vomit mess and you do it anyway. I guess sometimes you get to be the pissed-off hoowah hand-me-the-fucking-gun John Wayne/Bruce Willis kind of courageous, but I have a feeling more often than not it's the other kind.
And that just sucks. There's plenty of preparation for doing the right thing when it involves absolutes: save the kid from the pedophile, save the old lady from being run over in the crosswalk, save the nun from the armed robber... but when it comes to saving a dear friend from themselves, when they are so fucking good at talking everyone out of doing anything, when you see the road ahead and it's full of empty bottles and broken dreams... well, there's Lifetime movies that always end up with everyone in the right place, and that's about it. And that shit doesn't apply.
I think right now that courage was involved, but I don't know where this is going, or whether I will look back and wish I'd done something different. I just know that I believed very, very strongly that things had gone far past what I was capable of dealing with, and that I really thought what I did was the best course of action at that time.
I hope it was.
I hope it works.
I hope my friend comes back to me, and I hope she forgives me when she finds out I spoke up.
Because I'm a rat.
I can rationalize this whole thing out the ass, but the feeling remains -- I've really ratted someone out to The Man.
The group that intervened over the winter got together recently when we learned that Our Friend had started doing things that endangered her job and we all agreed that the next step had to be taken and the admins had to know, but one by one they chickened out until literally I was left on the phone with the last one when OFL arrived for the official meeting to discuss a problem... and I had to go face him alone. That was the one specific thing I told the group I did not want to have to do alone, and yet they left me to it anyway.
I was so pissed about that.
I had The Discussion and gave him the facts and avoided the names of those who chose not to appear, and I cried and shook because I was so upset we had gotten to this point, and OFL was understanding and matter-of-fact in terms of where we would go next and how he would approach things -- and what would happen if all else failed. He left and made calls and cancelled meetings, and I went and threw up in the ladies' room. Courage means doing the right thing even though you're a shaky weepy want-to-vomit mess and you do it anyway. I guess sometimes you get to be the pissed-off hoowah hand-me-the-fucking-gun John Wayne/Bruce Willis kind of courageous, but I have a feeling more often than not it's the other kind.
And that just sucks. There's plenty of preparation for doing the right thing when it involves absolutes: save the kid from the pedophile, save the old lady from being run over in the crosswalk, save the nun from the armed robber... but when it comes to saving a dear friend from themselves, when they are so fucking good at talking everyone out of doing anything, when you see the road ahead and it's full of empty bottles and broken dreams... well, there's Lifetime movies that always end up with everyone in the right place, and that's about it. And that shit doesn't apply.
I think right now that courage was involved, but I don't know where this is going, or whether I will look back and wish I'd done something different. I just know that I believed very, very strongly that things had gone far past what I was capable of dealing with, and that I really thought what I did was the best course of action at that time.
I hope it was.
I hope it works.
I hope my friend comes back to me, and I hope she forgives me when she finds out I spoke up.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
A Toast to My Brother-In-Law
This is the 6th or 7th draft of this toast. I'm still working on it and tweaking as the inspiration strikes.
A toast to my brother-in-law, on the occasion of his wedding to Lydia.
I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at. ~Maya Angelou
Family bonds are grown and cemented over the years through a history of shared experiences: mundane meals, funny cooking disasters, late nights and hangovers, silly photographs, acts of kindness and practical jokes, celebrations of accomplishments, and difficult times... through celebrations and tragedies alike.
I knew of Michael before I met him. Steve talked a little about his brother, the popular water polo player, the Greenwich boy. Mike and I first met when Steve brought me to their grandparents' home for Mike's college graduation party. Steve hadn't bothered to tell me he hadn't ever officially "brought a girl home" to meet the family, so there was more fuss than I expected, and Mike seemed to find all the Italian ladies swarming around and overwhelming me pretty amusing. We got to know each other through the next several years, while Steve and I were dating, engaged and married. Mike slowly became the brother I wasn't born with, but the one I laughed with (and at), depended upon, got mad at, smacked, threw things at, forgave, and most importantly, loved. Mike has grown into one of the most kind-hearted men I know, with a wonderful sense of humor. He is someone who understands how important it is to show those around you how much you love them, and he works at that every day.
Steve and Mike's mother was one of the strongest, most loving, spirited, and opinionated women I have ever known. As with many other relationships, we had our differences and came to terms with them through time. During the summer before she passed away, I made sure to go and hold her hand and talk with her every day as she was able, hoping she would help me understand what I should do for her grandchildren. They were the easy part, though, and she knew that more than I did. When Lucille was very ill, she took my hand one afternoon as she lay propped in her bed, and told me the best thing she ever did was raise two good boys. She said "Take care of my boys. I know you'll take care of Steven. You take care of Michael too -- you're the one who will do it." It took her a long time to tell me that, because she kept losing her breath, but she made sure I heard every word, and she made damn sure I said yes. She knew then what Mike would face without her, and she entrusted him to me. This has been my charge, my sacred promise to her that I have tried so hard to keep. Now, I pass part of that charge on to Lydia... you, whom Lucille would have embraced and enjoyed so much, for your spirit and humor and lovely kindness and fun. I wish you could have met her -- she would have had so much fun with you. I believe she's happy today, because her beloved firstborn son is truly happy.
Going back to Maya Angelou's quote, marriage, much like sisterhood and brotherhood, is a lot of work. Sometimes it's an exotic vacation, sometimes it's a everyday stay-cation, sometimes it's treading water, and sometimes it's literally keeping each other's heads above water every few minutes. While all of that is true, none of it lasts too long before something changes. But it's worth it because all those experiences deepen and strengthen the love that keeps us all going. And family plays a crucial part in keeping marriages together and strong : we love the people who are our family: those who choose to help us, who choose to stand by us, and choose to be part of our lives during times both easy and difficult. Our family has evolved and changed over the last twenty years, with the comings and goings of life's events. It is love, above all that has sustained us and kept us together, and I am now and will always be grateful for the love that Mike has found with Lydia. Take care of my brother, dearest Lydia, and welcome to the family.
A toast to my brother-in-law, on the occasion of his wedding to Lydia.
I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at. ~Maya Angelou
Family bonds are grown and cemented over the years through a history of shared experiences: mundane meals, funny cooking disasters, late nights and hangovers, silly photographs, acts of kindness and practical jokes, celebrations of accomplishments, and difficult times... through celebrations and tragedies alike.
I knew of Michael before I met him. Steve talked a little about his brother, the popular water polo player, the Greenwich boy. Mike and I first met when Steve brought me to their grandparents' home for Mike's college graduation party. Steve hadn't bothered to tell me he hadn't ever officially "brought a girl home" to meet the family, so there was more fuss than I expected, and Mike seemed to find all the Italian ladies swarming around and overwhelming me pretty amusing. We got to know each other through the next several years, while Steve and I were dating, engaged and married. Mike slowly became the brother I wasn't born with, but the one I laughed with (and at), depended upon, got mad at, smacked, threw things at, forgave, and most importantly, loved. Mike has grown into one of the most kind-hearted men I know, with a wonderful sense of humor. He is someone who understands how important it is to show those around you how much you love them, and he works at that every day.
Steve and Mike's mother was one of the strongest, most loving, spirited, and opinionated women I have ever known. As with many other relationships, we had our differences and came to terms with them through time. During the summer before she passed away, I made sure to go and hold her hand and talk with her every day as she was able, hoping she would help me understand what I should do for her grandchildren. They were the easy part, though, and she knew that more than I did. When Lucille was very ill, she took my hand one afternoon as she lay propped in her bed, and told me the best thing she ever did was raise two good boys. She said "Take care of my boys. I know you'll take care of Steven. You take care of Michael too -- you're the one who will do it." It took her a long time to tell me that, because she kept losing her breath, but she made sure I heard every word, and she made damn sure I said yes. She knew then what Mike would face without her, and she entrusted him to me. This has been my charge, my sacred promise to her that I have tried so hard to keep. Now, I pass part of that charge on to Lydia... you, whom Lucille would have embraced and enjoyed so much, for your spirit and humor and lovely kindness and fun. I wish you could have met her -- she would have had so much fun with you. I believe she's happy today, because her beloved firstborn son is truly happy.
Going back to Maya Angelou's quote, marriage, much like sisterhood and brotherhood, is a lot of work. Sometimes it's an exotic vacation, sometimes it's a everyday stay-cation, sometimes it's treading water, and sometimes it's literally keeping each other's heads above water every few minutes. While all of that is true, none of it lasts too long before something changes. But it's worth it because all those experiences deepen and strengthen the love that keeps us all going. And family plays a crucial part in keeping marriages together and strong : we love the people who are our family: those who choose to help us, who choose to stand by us, and choose to be part of our lives during times both easy and difficult. Our family has evolved and changed over the last twenty years, with the comings and goings of life's events. It is love, above all that has sustained us and kept us together, and I am now and will always be grateful for the love that Mike has found with Lydia. Take care of my brother, dearest Lydia, and welcome to the family.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)