Hi, Dad.
It's been almost nine months since you passed on, and in that relatively short amount of time you've had more chances to look in on me than you ever had before. (And I know you've taken advantage of them. I've felt your presence from time to time. The radio in my car doesn't turn itself up, nor to the lights in my kitchen turn themselves on. Not to mention the fact that the lights in my bedroom are OFF before I go to sleep at night, so how else can they be on when I wake up in the morning? [Oh, and while I'm on that subject, it's kinda creepy that you're watching me sleep. Please don't. Or at least turn the light off before you go, so I won't know if you must.] And I know those pots and pans that came flying out of your kitchen cupboard when Joe and I were at your house wasn't just some sort of freak accident. ...I only wish you'd done something a bit more ominous to warn me about him. Like, thrown a couple of knives or something.) I know nine months isn't a very long time, but I would think that's enough to get to know me somewhat. You've got an idea of what kind of person I am. What makes me tick. What I like and don't like. What my personal beliefs are. And in that time I've gotten to know a bit more about you, too. Not from yourself, personally, mind you, but from what others have told me and what I've just gathered from being around where you lived. (I would have LOVED to razz you to no end for being a Packers fan. Although, truth be told, you would have won that argument more often than not. I admit it.) There are still quite a few things that I don't know, though. Things that I will probably need to hear straight from you, because either you're the only one who knows the answer or I won't get the truth from anyone else I ask. I can trust you to be honest with me, right? I mean, really, what do we have to lose at this point?
So, what happened, really? Why did things turn out the way they did? I get the feeling something kind of terrible occurred, but no one wants to tell me. I mean, I talked to your friend Terry. He told me about how you'd take the drawings I sent you to work. I saw that postcard I sent you from my band trip to Disney on your refrigerator. My prom picture was up in your living room (Although I don't remember sending it to you, but I must have, since my handwriting was on the back... I could have sworn that Mom said she sent some of my senior pictures to you, but I didn't see any of those. Did they never make it to you?) I know you had to have cared about me, if even just a little bit. So what gives? Why the distance? I want you to know that I'm not angry with you. I'm not, I swear! But I just want an explanation. I was really hoping you'd at least show up for my high school graduation. I told all my friends you would. And I believed that you would. Who wouldn't want to see their child graduate? As valedictorian, no less? I just don't understand why you were missing from that, and the rest of my milestones as I grew up. I truly believe there to be a logical explanation. But no one else will tell me, so I'm turning to you.
My friend Lena (I trust you're familiar with her by now. She's been there for me practically my whole life. We would often sit and talk about what you may have been like. We spent a lot of time wondering in what ways I look like you, what physical features I got from you. [I've since discovered that I have your eye color, face shape, and nose. Lena says ears, too, but I'm not positive about that. Oh, and I'm going prematurely gray like you did, too. I've been coloring my hair since 21. But let's not dwell on THAT one...:-P] In fact, I'm sure you've gotten to know all my friends a little bit by now. What do you think? I've got a little bit of everything in my address book, don't I? I like that about myself, that I'm able to get along with all sorts of people. I fell in with a good crowd, wouldn't you say? Anyway...) saw my grandpa at the store or something right after you passed, and she was talking to him about the whole thing and my circumstances in life and such. She told me that he said something to her about how they had to protect me. Protect me from what? My grandpa wouldn't say anymore about it, even when Lena tried to push for more details. Everything I'd heard about your father said that he was abusive. Were they trying to protect me from him? Did you end up picking up some of his not-so-favorable traits? Did you hurt me at one point, when I was very young? This probably goes hand in hand with my first question, I'm sure. Every time I try to press someone for details about what my life was like when I was very small, I get only vague bits or the subject is changed outright. I know practically nothing about the first four years of my existence, Dad. And that bothers me. It's part of my history, it helped shape who I am, even if I was too young to remember it. I feel like I'm being denied a piece of myself since the facts are constantly being hidden from me, even now when there's nothing left to protect me from. I've accepted the fact that whatever happened in my distant past isn't good. And it would probably hurt me to find out what exactly did occur. But I feel like I need to know to understand, to get some closure.
I'm also curious as to why you got a vasectomy after I was born. You were so young, and I was your first and only child. Why were you so adverse to the possibility of becoming a father again? I know my existence wasn't planned, wasn't really supposed to happen. But was I that big a mistake that you couldn't bear the thought of repeating it again? Was there something about you that made you doubt your abilities as a parent? Were you afraid of being a dad, for whatever reason? I just get the impression that I was more than enough for you, and I find it odd that someone so young would go to such an extreme measure to make sure it doesn't happen again.
Maybe you could also explain to me why most of the rest of your family kept their distance for so many years, too. And even now some seem a bit leery of having to deal with my existence. Am I too much of a reminder of a past time? Am I a living, breathing source of shame, an embodiment of mistakes made in the past that those closest to you would prefer to keep buried? I didn't expect everyone to welcome me with open arms and embrace me as the granddaughter/niece/cousin that they never had, but it sort of bothers me that only a few have made an effort to maintain a connection to me after meeting them at the memorial your co-workers put on. I almost feel as though my mere presence brings with it reminders of a time past that would much rather be forgotten. There's one in particular who's aloofness I find rather troublesome. And I believe you know who I'm talking about.
I know about the money you had set aside for me for college, Dad. The thing is, I didn't find out about it until my grandpa happened to mention something about it a couple of weeks after you passed. I never saw a penny of it. My grandpa said that he thought my mom got it, but he wasn't sure about what happened to it after that. Is that true? You can't just lose ten thousand dollars. What happened to it? Why did my mom never tell me about this? I can't shake the feeling that I should be very angry with my mother regarding this. Do I have reason to be? I don't bring it up with her because I know she won't be honest with me. Why would Mom not want me to know about you trying to help me? Why did Mom not even bother telling me that she was in contact with you throughout my senior year of high school?
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I want to know what you think of the woman your daughter has become. Do I make you proud? Am I everything you'd hoped I'd be? Do you smile when you check in on me? I know I'm not perfect, I'm far from an angel, and I don't really care to strive to be either. But I hope that I'm someone you're proud to call your daughter, just the same.
I know I won't have the answers to these questions for a very long time, if ever. But I do take some sort of comfort in knowing that you are watching over me now, even if you weren't there in life. It's strange... I actually feel closer to you than I ever have before, and you're not even physically here for me to interact with. I think about you every single day. I love hearing from those you were close to just how much of you they see in me, whether it be in regards to personality or appearance. The idea that you're part of me even though we didn't really get to know each other is something that I find to be absolutely wonderful.
I'll see you around, I'm sure. ;-) Happy Father's Day.
Love,
Stephanie
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Unsent, unasked, and as of now, unanswered.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Things you can't tell by looking at me...
It's funny how a seemingly simple, innocent question has the power to turn any given moment into a particularly uncomfortable one.
At my place of employment, we have delivery men of various sorts going in and out of there on any given day. One of which is a guy who delivers the bread, buns, etc. that we use. Seeing as how Bread Man comes three mornings a week, I'm always there in the morning, and he's a bit on the chatty side, we've developed a familiarity of sorts in that more often than not I can expect to be engaged in conversation for at least a couple of minutes with every delivery. Friday morning was no different. I can't recall exactly how, but we got on the topic of plans for the weekend, when he hit me with this one: "You got anything going on for Father's Day? Doing anything with your dad?"
Shit. Hadn't prepared myself for the possibility of that popping up. Truth be told, I'd been so focused on what I'd pulled off for my grandpa as a Father's Day gift of sorts for him, concentrating on my haves, if you will, I somehow managed to push aside my have-nots as far as that day is concerned. (Okay, upon re-reading that statement, it's occurred to me that looks kind of bad. But you know what I mean, right? I've simply chosen to accentuate to positive...) It wasn't so much the question itself that bothered me. Now, had someone who was fully aware of the situation had asked me that, I would have been extremely offended and would have told them in no uncertain terms to go fuck themselves. But here's this dude, he's just trying to make conversation, and in doing so he's unwittingly backed himself into a most awkward situation. Ugh... I scrambled for a way to answer him so as not to make him feel like a total jackass, but I could come up with nothing and I actually think I may have stuttered for a second or two. Seeing no way to gracefully get out of this one, I blurted out the truth: "Uh...um, well, my dad passed away last September...." God. I am SO sorry, man. I know this isn't what you intended... Bread Man immediately recoiled, even before I could finish the sentence. "Oh! I'm sorry!!!" "That's okay." I made an effort to not sound completely pathetic. "I'll probably end up hanging out with my grandpa for a little bit." He picked up on the cue and went along with it. "You're lucky there. I never got to know either of my grandpas. I always thought they'd be fun to have around." "Oh, they are! At least, mine is..." I mentioned how my grandpa and I go fishing together sometimes, and the subject then veered towards fishing in general. Whew... I could tell he felt genuinely bad about the whole thing, though. It's okay. It really is. I'm not upset over it. He didn't know.
Earlier in the week, I was cleaning the bathrooms at work (I get all the fun jobs.) and preparing to get myself through what I thought would be another boring, uneventful day when I feel a vibration in my pocket and hear the familiar text message tone on my phone(I love that technology has enabled us all to be in touch with one another even while we're on company time... LOL). My best friend, Lena. "Harold's house is in foreclosure! It's in the BCR..." The BCR being the Berrien County Record, the newspaper of choice for those in the know about all things Buchanan and surrounding areas. Why in God's name my little ass-backwards town has it's own publication is beyond me. But it IS good for some things if you're a gossip monger and know what to look for... Such as the legal notices that appear in the back section every single week. If you live anywhere in Berrien county and get yourself into financial trouble to the point where you miss a few mortgage payments, prepare to suffer the humiliation of having the entire area know your misfortune via published notice in the BCR. Now, usually I feel bad for these folks. It's awful enough that they've obviously fallen on hard times. Having the world see in black and white that you've defaulted on your mortgage is just rubbing salt in the wound, although it is standard procedure. But when you come across the name of someone you don't particularly like... Then it becomes somewhat entertaining. In this case, it's Mom's husband number three. I've mentioned him a couple times before here... A raging alcoholic with delusions of grandeur who thinks nothing of making those around him feel as small and insignificant as possible to make himself feel better, a fiercely bigoted ignoramus who belonged in the 1950's deep south as opposed to present day Michigan, a man who subjected my mother, my siblings, and myself to mental and emotional abuse from 2001 through 2004, when my mental health had deteriorated to the point where I was having at least two or three panic attacks a day and actually had homicidal thoughts enter my mind at an alarming frequency(I wanted to kill the son of a bitch. And I knew exactly how I was going to do it, which scared the shit out of me.); it was at that point that I knew that I needed to get out of that house. If I didn't, it was inevitable that I'd either end up serving life in Jackson or be locked up in a padded cell in Kalamazoo for quite a while, depending on just how much a jury of my peers would have sympathized with me. My mom filed for divorce about six or seven months later after my brother and sister got fed up with it as well and moved back in with their father. To this day, the sound of a can of beer being opened sends ice down my back. I had hated people before... But I had no idea it was possible to hate someone so passionately, thoroughly, vehemently. And as such, I take great pleasure in learning of any instance where life has been less than kind. Learning he'd gotten fired from his big, important, cushy job was cause for celebration for me. Seeing him driving down the street in his mom's car after he had to sell his fancy truck, and looking like absolute SHIT in the process was a joyous occasion. Learning that he was losing his house... Oh my fucking GOD. Words cannot express the absolute rapture I felt upon reading that text from Lena!!! I let out a whoop that could be heard throughout the restaurant from the women's bathroom that I was mopping at the time, followed by a roar of hysterical laughter. I dropped the mop and practically sprinted out to the bar, where I had saw a copy of the latest BCR sitting. I frantically flipped to the legal notices, and there it was. Perhaps the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen in print (And that's saying a LOT!!!!). Actual confirmation that the most evil human being I'd ever come into contact with was losing his house. The hysterical laughter continued from me, as at this point I had a couple of co-workers staring. I told them the story (they know the circumstances), and they understood my joy. LOL... Okay, I know it might not be the nicest thing to be so jovial over someone's misfortune, no matter how much you dislike the person. Forgive and forget, blahblahblah and all that. Fuck that. I'm unapologetically enjoying this. I don't care. It's making me happy. In fact, I bought my own copy of that particular newspaper, cut out the notice, and it's currently hanging on my refrigerator. And every single day since I've learned of this, I've made a point to drive by the house and point and laugh. Once while Asshole and his brother were actually outside. But, again, I don't care. He's got it coming and then some, as far as I'm concerned.
My mom is in the process of looking for a house. Between her, my sister, and my niece, the two-bedroom apartment they're inhabiting at the moment has gotten rather crowded. Can't say that I blame them! She actually put in applications for a couple of rental houses, one a three bedroom and the other a four bedroom. She asked me if I'd be interested in moving back in with her if she got the four bedroom. Hmmm... This prompted me to do a pro/con list of sorts in my head. It would be easier for me, financially, to split expenses with someone else. (I wouldn't mind entering into a roommate situation with someone else, but in order to do that I'd have to uproot my whole damn life and go several hundred miles away... All my friends that live around here are married and all domestically blissed-out and such. Some days the idea of starting over somewhere else appeals to me, other times not.) If it was animal-friendly, and both appear to be, I'd finally be able to get that pet I've been wanting for years. I wouldn't have the loneliness that I have to contend with at times. Yet, at the same time... Having lived with my mom for years, I know she's not the easiest person to coexist with. I would have the constant worry of her being out partying with God-knows-whom at all hours of the night (Again, who's the parent and who's the child here??), I'd have to deal with her never-ending stream of boyfriends, most of whom I don't like... Not to mention the fact that she's a damn drama queen and the soap opera that is Days Of Our Kathy gets rather tiresome to me. All that being said, though, I would consider it. I like the idea of being around to watch my niece grow up. And it would be a good opportunity for my mom and I to kind of get closer... We were very close at one point, but the relationship soured a bit once she left my brother and sister's father and began partying all the time. It got even worse when Harold came along... You could say I became kind of resentful that she subjected us to all of that, and it took all of her kids leaving her before she got up nerve to do something about it. All of this thinking is probably for nothing, though, since it looks like the apps for both of the houses fell through. Mom kind of thought this might happen, since I guess there were lots of people looking at them... It was an interesting thought, though, and something that I think I may want to keep in mind for the future. Particularly since she's still going to be pursuing the house thing, and I'm seriously looking into going back to school. (Hence my desire to want to share expenses with someone... If I can get away with working part time while doing the school thing, I'd be all about it. I would already be taking some part-time classes here and there, but would you believe I don't qualify for financial aid? It seems I screwed myself over by not being dumb enough to go and get knocked up. This appears to be something that'll have to wait until the estate clears, unfortunately.)
Random, scattered notes:
- From what I can tell, Suave stopped making my favorite Berry Smoothie body wash. NOT happy. I went and bought some Ocean Breeze stuff today... It's okay, but I like the other stuff better. Damn it.
- I'm getting pretty damn pissed that my co-workers apparently think that the schedule that is posted every week is merely a suggestion. It seems that every week, someone's asking for an impromptu day off(I was always under the impression time off was to be taken with two weeks notice) or to switch shifts with someone else. I got caught up in the bullshit this past week when A., who was supposed to come in at two, decided that she wanted to switch with R., who normally comes in at 5. So R. is supposed to show up at 2, she appears to be running a few minutes late, S. and I are both done with our shifts, but I offer to stay until R. gets there because S. says she has a "mission" to tend to once she's done with work. So there I am, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. 2:30. Still no R. I'm pissed at this point, I'm thinking that I'm stuck there until 5 because no one else has their shit together, I fire off a pissy text to S., and I'm tending to orders, fuming. 2:45, R. finally shows. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that she should have been there 45 minutes ago. Someone apparently got their wires crossed. I'm finally relieved of my duties, but not before I text S. again and tell her that my relief finally showed. She gets back to me saying that she was about to get a hold of A. and chew her out, "Had ur back." Upon all the kitchen staff being gathered for a few moments the next day, Smart-Ass Steph showed up and said, "Here's an idea... Kind of crazy, but bear with me here... How about we actually stick to the schedule that's POSTED?" R. and A. looked shocked, S. seconded it, though. When we were discussing the matter by ourselves, S. said to me, "We're the only good ones..." And even then it was all I could do not to snort, as on the weekends S. has a tendency to stumble in a half-hour+ late and hungover. And the maddening part about that is that everyone else seems to think it's cute. Yet, here I am, the responsible one who always does what is asked and expected of her, and I'm told that it might not be feasible for me to take the Sunday after the 4th of July off. The powers that be will get back to me on that. (I think I'll remind them tomorrow...) Can't be having anyone else alter their lives in any way for ME. Never mind the fact that I do that for everyone else quite a bit...
- I recently read an article on Charlize Theron, and it's said that one of the philosophies that her mother shared with her is that you don't ever want to be on your deathbed and asking yourself, "Why didn't I do that?" I love this. And I think everyone, myself included, needs to live by this more. It seems that people have a tendency to come up with so many reasons why they shouldn't do something that they really want to... It's as if we're almost afraid to go out and make ourselves happy. If something has made or has the potential to make you smile, even for a minute, it's totally worth the effort and no regrets should be had over it whatsoever.
And with that, it's off to bed with me... Not sure what Father's Day has in store for me as far as work goes tomorrow. I'm kind of hoping we're busy, it might help keep my mind off of things. It's going to be a bit trying for me on a personal level, I think. I need to be at the top of my game, no matter what the day brings.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Random, completely unconnected thoughts, part 2.
-Right now, seriously annoyed by my left contact lens. Excuse me for a second while I go remove it....
-Ahh... Much better! Found the culprit of the irritation in the process... Apparently, an eyelash had somehow found it's way into my eye and had been hanging out there all day. Ugh. It had been bothering me all day, but every time I went looking around in there to figure out what the hell was doing that, I could find nothing. Argh... ANYWAY! While kind of bored, I really didn't come here to tell you about the eyelash in my eye...
-I had my second tornado-related freak out in a span of three days yesterday afternoon! This time, there were actual funnel cloud sightings to go with it. Not by me, mind you, but there were reports spilling into the local news outlets. Nothing came of it, thank God, but something tells me if this is the way it's going to be all summer (And given the insane number of tornadoes that have been popping up all over thus far, it very well could be), I'd best be getting used to this. Or set up a little cot for myself under the stairwell on the ground floor. Haven't decided which yet.
-So when pulling into the mall parking lot this evening, I freak the hell out when I see a black Hummer in the parking spot a few spaces down from me. Because 1) I know that Brady Quinn drives a black Hummer and 2) I was aware of the fact that he was back at his old stomping grounds this past weekend. (I live close to the MI/IN border, South Bend is only about a 20 minute drive for me.) Could it be??? I give in to temptation to walk over to the Hummer and check out the license plate. Indiana plates. Nope. Not him. In the back of my mind, I really knew it probably wasn't, as Browns mini-camp starts tomorrow and he wouldn't have hung around here this late because of that, he was most likely already back in Cleveland. Didn't stop me from letting my mind run away with the idea, though! I'd like to get another encounter not just for the obvious reasons, but there's also a little part of me that wonders if Brady would remember me, by some chance. Common sense says probably not, simply because he meets so many people. I was more than likely just one of many girls who have clamored for a spot by his side over the years. But at the same time, there's gotta be something to be said for being the girl who was crazy enough to drive all the way from Michigan to see Mr. Quinn... Right? LOL...
-How else did I spend my day off? Well... By being a damn lazy ass and sleeping until ALMOST 1, for starters. I could NOT believe I did that. My eyes first popped open around 8:30 this morning, but I allowed myself to drift back off as I tend to thoroughly take advantage of my one sleep-in day of the week. But I did NOT intend for me to take it this far! I felt like a total slacker, and I was pissed at myself because I'd pretty much wasted half of my ONE day away from the hellhole a week. I kind of tend to forget just how much working in the heat kicks my ass, though. The temperature here has been in the upper 80's close to 90 over the past few days, and even though there's air conditioning in my workplace, by the time all the appliances are turned on and you've been working by them, it kind of cancels any effect that the AC might have and it ends up getting up to 95 degrees in that kitchen anyway. There's really not much that can be done other than stay hydrated, look for any excuse to go into the walk-in cooler/freezer, and count the seconds until I can go home and sit in my own air conditioning that I can actually FEEL. This will be my life for the next three months or so, and these conditions tire me out even more than a normal workday would. So I really shouldn't be so surprised that I conked out the way I did. Adjustment time, you know? I'll actually be used to the shit eventually...
-Kinda looking forward to the Fourth of July weekend! I'm bummed in that the rest of the family will be up at my grandparents lake cottage having fun and what not that whole damn week and I'll be at work (My mom and I working at the same place is to my disadvantage here. She'd put in for her vacation time for that week, and I know the powers that be would fuckin' FLIP if I requested that time, too. So... No vacation for me. YET.), but I do plan on taking the Sunday of that weekend off so I can head up there the SECOND I get off of work that Saturday, and just hang out there until Monday afternoon/evening. Do a little fishing, of course... But the main purpose of me taking this time would be so the whole family can spend the day up in Saugatuck, which is an AWESOME town right on the Lake Michigan shore that's about an hour or so away from where the cottage is, a couple of hours from where I actually live. It's a beautiful place, they put a lot of effort in keeping the city nice. They've got all these cool little shops scattered all over the place, and it's a lot of fun to just go there and look around at everything. And the restaurants are out of this world! There's this one place in particular.... Marro's. I've only been there once, but I fell in love with the place instantly. A bit pricey, but totally worth it! It's only open during the summer months, though, (tourist season) so that's why opportunities to enjoy it are especially limited for me. Follow that up by more window shopping/browsing, then a visit to this amazing fudge shop/ice cream parlor (The name escapes me, but it's incredible!) for some dessert. A wonderful experience all around, and I'd better get that day off so I can partake in it otherwise there's going to be one pouty bitch in Buchanan that weekend. Well, actually, this all hinges on what Uncle Jim wants to do. He's the one that mentioned Saugatuck during the particular week when everyone but me will be up at the cottage, my grandma got the idea of trying to talk him into that Sunday so I can take the day off and join them. I like that idea. ;-)
-Is it wrong that I've looked through my own blog and thought, "Damn, I'm a pretty good read?" :-P
-I'm currently playing my 311 Greatest Hits '93-'03 CD to death right now. It's bizarre, because I really only bought it a couple of years ago for a few songs, but I popped it in over the weekend because when looking through my music collection, I found it and realized I hadn't given it a listen in a while. And this time around, it's not the songs that I bought the CD for that are keeping me hooked, but a few other ones that are on there... Totally feeling Flowing and Beautiful Disaster right now, in particular. Weird...
Well, off to bed for me. Back to work tomorrow.... *sigh*....
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Random, completely unconnected thoughts.
-There was an order due to go out today at work that consisted of exactly 600 chicken wings. A graduation party? Family reunion? Someone's big-ass birthday party? (I'd say world's biggest Super Bowl party, but seeing as how we're nowhere near football season...) Don't know, don't care. But at one point this afternoon, S. and I were staring at a massive metal tub full of chicken wings. It was pretty damn gross, really. Anyway, we thought about it for a bit, and estimated that there was about $350 worth of wings sitting there right in front of us. I instantly was able to put it into perspective without even trying... I pay out $365 a month in rent. There's apparently someone out there willing to spend the amount of money it takes me to keep a roof over my head for a month, just for a whole shitload of wings. A place to live for 30-31 days = 600 wings. And I found that fact to be rather depressing. Something is seriously wrong with this picture. THIS, folks, is why the terrorists hate us.
-Note to self: Do not Google Lindy Slinger unless I'm looking to get myself good and pissed off at the world. I'm not even entirely sure why I felt compelled to do this in the first place.
-Note to self 2: Do not publicly rave about awesome new rookie catcher that plays for my team, as I'll apparently jinx him. (My boy Soto has been kinda slumping as of late...)
-Fucking hell, that had better not be thunder again....
-A friend of mine told me that while out and about shopping, she saw a shirt that said "Skinny girls are for wimps!" Totally want that shirt. Alas, that was all the way in New York, so I don't really have a way of finding it locally...
-It's concert season and I've yet to make any plans that involve it. Something is wrong here, my music-obsessed self LIVES for this shit. Unfortunately, I've yet to hear about someone coming to my area that I MUST drop everything to go see... (Come on, man, Styx is overdue to make a return engagement to South Bend! What's up, guys???)
-After about a month and a half of Mother Nature being VERY indecisive about what it was going to be like outside, I think we've finally made the transition into late spring/early summer weather here. I've pretty much all but abandoned my jeans, I've been living in shorts the past couple of weeks. Which is awesome because my laundry basket isn't a burden to carry up and down a flight of stairs anymore... The bad thing, however, is that with the warmth has come the humidity (Hence the tornado weather we've been experiencing...). And that sucks even more for me than it does the average person, because not only does it make me feel uncomfortable just like it would anyone else, but my curly hair does NOT agree with the extra moisture in the air. I'm now in the early stages of what will most likely be a three/three and a half month long bad hair day. Anyone else want to tell me how lucky I am to have naturally curly hair again? Can you look me in the eye and tell me that when it's 90% humidity outside and I'm a massive puff of frizz? Anyone? :-P
-I know I've stated it a few times before, but I REALLY need to put in for my vacation time. MAN, the idea of sleeping in for a week straight just sounds SO damn good... I need to get my fishing license for this year, too. I can't wait to get out on that lake with my grandpa again! It's just so peaceful out in that boat, and I love listening to my grandpa tell all his stories about when he used to go fishing with his dad and all the crazy things he and his buddies did when they were younger. I've probably heard them all about a million times, but I don't care. I still love them. They're a source of comfort to me, in a way. And a kind of cool piece of history, really. Not to mention it's fun as hell when we happen to get out there and find a spot where the bluegill and perch are biting. :-) Grandpa always seems to catch more than I do, but I make up for it in that I tend to get the bigger ones. ;-)
I'm sure there are more insignificant things that had rattled around in my brain today, but nothing else is coming to me at the moment.... There will be more later, I'm sure. :-P
Friday, June 6, 2008
Fun with Paranoia!
Surefire way to freak me out? The use of the following statement:
The National Weather Service in Northwestern Indiana has issued a TORNADO WARNING for southeastern Berrien County in southwestern lower Michigan...
Extra points towards putting me on edge when the details of said bulletin includes the phrase, "Towns in the path of this dangerous storm include Buchanan..." Full-on PANIC mode ensues when "local law enforcement/a trained weather spotter/the public reports a funnel cloud..." or even worse, "THERE ARE REPORTS OF A TORNADO ON THE GROUND!" comes out of the statement.
I knew something was amiss this afternoon around 4 PM or so when, while messing around here in good 'ol cyberspace, I happened to hear some thunder mixing in with the steady rainfall we'd had for the better part of an hour. Then suddenly, the wind started kicking up something fierce and it suddenly got scary-dark outside. Ut Oh. I quickly bring up the local report on weather.com, and am greeted with the afore mentioned TORNADO WARNING IN EFFECT FOR YOUR AREA statement. SHIT. "Doppler radar indicated a severe thunderstorm with strong rotation..." Okay. Radar-indicated. Nothing seen yet. Calm down, sweetie... "Locations in the path of this storm include Buchanan..." AUGH. Didn't hit the trifecta of doom, but it's still enough to make me very uneasy. I get the hell off the computer and turn on the TV to find the local weatherman breaking into programming and being just generally all over the situation. As I'm watching the local radar loop that's zoomed in to my general vicinity, I notice what looks like a hook. (I should explain now that in spite of my fear, I've had a lifelong fascination with the weather... More specifically, the instances when nature rears it's ugly head and unleashes it's power. You know those nerds that are glued to the Weather Channel whenever there's a tornado outbreak somewhere or an impending landfall of a hurricane? I'm one of them. I'd be an awesome stormchaser if I weren't so deathly afraid of the things! I know it's bizarre, but I like to think that I fear them because I'm informed. Well, that, and my paranoia has increased quite a bit thanks to a very close call with a tornado just months after moving into my apartment. One took the roof off the building a few yards away from mine. Had that funnel come down a split second earlier, I would have been among the homeless, as well.) Having stared at radar loops for years, I know what a bow echo looks like, and that's an indication of VERY strong winds out ahead of a line of thunderstorms. I've also learned to recognize a hook echo, and the ominous implications that come with that. A sign of rotation within the storm, the potential is very high for that cell to spit out a tornado. And in looking at the image of the storm hitting me, I see the hook. Fortunately, that echo seemed to weaken and the rotation that the storm had before appeared to settle somewhat just as my town was getting ready to be hit. But I still watched both the TV and out my window until the warning expired, fully mindful that a second floor apartment is NOT the safest place to be in these particular situations and ready to bolt for the ground floor at a moment's notice. All is peaceful now, but I got my scare for the day!
Another gem from the Look what I get paid to do! file... We get an order in from our foodservice supplier at work on Tuesday and Friday mornings. They have an arrangement where the driver has a key to the place, knows the security codes, and just comes in WAY early in the morning and delivers, then locks back up and it all gets put away once staff (AKA: me) shows up. Because, while dedicated to my job (Still don't know why. If anyone figures it out, please let me know. It would be much appreciated to learn why I insist on driving myself mad...), the powers that be are out of their fucking minds if they think I'm showing up at 5, 5:30, or whatever ungodly time of the morning just to receive some damn groceries. Anyway, I get there this morning to find the usual order list and stacks of groceries waiting for my attention. I get the dry and paper goods put away, and set out to work on the walk-in cooler... Only to find that there's no way in hell I'm getting in there anywhere as there's stacks of boxes RIGHT in front of the doorway. I'm confused, as I didn't understand why things were packed in here the way they were... How in the hell am I supposed to get in here to put things in their rightful places if I can't even get in the door? I mean, I know we had a big order today, we had a few large orders for graduation parties this weekend so we had to stock up accordingly, but this was ridiculous. So I start to take some of the boxes out of the cooler and set them on the counters in an attempt to clear a path for myself to get to work in there, when I see that there's a wall of beer kegs right in the middle of the cooler floor. Ah. There's the problem. And I'm instantly irritated. I know that there's nothing else we can do to keep the kegs cold until they're needed out at the bar, but our cooler space is limited as it is and all this does is just clusterfuck things even more! And even more aggravating - apparently another keg had been delivered after I left yesterday, as I only remembered two in there before and now there were three. So there were three kegs blocking things all up in there, plus several large boxes that I really couldn't move around very well in the name of clearing way for me to work... I wasn't going to get in there by normal means. What the hell.... As I analyzed the situation, I came to the realization that there was only one way possible that I was going to get inside that cooler. And this came with an injury risk, something that I wasn't too keen on given my history of being accident prone. But I didn't see any other way around this, so... I ended up hoisting myself up onto one of the stacks of large boxes that needed to be put away (bent them up a bit, but thankfully they did support my weight), and from there I climbed up onto one of the kegs. As I stood atop the keg looking for any sort of spot of bare floor that I could maneuver on, I couldn't help but laugh... Should I not be able to successfully find floor, could you imagine what a fun worker's comp claim THIS would be? "Okay, how did you get hurt?" "Well... I was standing on top of a beer keg in the cooler..." I did see a small patch of cooler floor that I could move around a bit in, took a deep breath, and somehow made it down (cursing the very existence of draft beer the whole time) without fucking up a foot, ankle or knee. I can report a couple of bruises on my left leg, but given the circumstances I came out of that situation quite well, I do believe. Had anyone else been in the building with me at the time, they would have had prime point and laugh opportunity. Hell, my boss DID laugh when I happened to mention my stunt to him later. "Jesus, Stephie..." I would have loved to have seen HIM do any better. :-P And seeing as how he's bigger than me, he wouldn't have been able to find the wiggle room in there that I did. LOL...
While chatting with a co-worker today, she mentioned that she had her 20 year high school class reunion coming up. They also sent her this survey that they wanted her to fill out, even if she wasn't going to be there, just to see what everyone is up to. Complete with questions like "What's your motto" and "How have you changed in the past 20 years", and they also ask for a recent picture of yourself. The whole survey thing was hilarious to us, and the more that I thought about it, that survey more than likely would have been very dangerous in my hands. It would have been FAR too tempting for me to put down the most smart-ass answers I could possibly think of... And then it hit me. Next year, it will have been 10 years for me since I graduated! Could something similar be in my future? Will I, in fact, actually be subjected to one of those corny surveys? Oh, Lord. My motto? Uh... I have a keychain that says "Shock me, say something intelligent". We'll go with that. What have I been up to? Well, after my brief stint in adult entertainment under the name Savannah Swallows, I tapped into my domestic, creative abilities and my knack for the sales pitch. I'm proud to say I have the most productive meth lab in the county... The recent picture of myself would be me flipping off the camera or something equally as charming. How have I changed in the past ten years? In case you haven't noticed, I'm a bit more edgier than most may remember me...:-P Oh, yes. I would have FAR too much fun with that survey, should I ever receive one of those... It would totally fuck with all that read it, and that's all the more reason for me to answer in that manner. ;-) I wouldn't actually go, though. A friend and I decided a few years ago that the only way in hell we'd show up at our reunion would be if we were able to get a table to ourselves way in the back and just totally rip on everyone else the whole damn night. That's the only use I have for most of those people, unfortunately... Well, I might be tempted to go do a thing or two to show just how much I've changed since my high school days for the sole purpose of fucking with them all. I've done that before a couple of times when running into those who knew me from my innocent and sweet high school days. (My favorite one of these stories was during my friend's wedding a couple of years ago when the champagne was distributed for the toast at the reception. A husband of one of my fellow bridesmaids who happened to be a classmate of mine took a look at me with the glass in my hand and said to me, "What are you doing? You can't do that. You don't do things like that." (Mind you, I was 25 at the time. Who the hell is he to tell me I can't have a drink?) To which I said, "Oh, yeah?" and proceeded to down the whole glass of champagne in one gulp right in front of him. DAMN, that was fun!) 17 year old Steph doesn't live here anymore...
So my grandpa's birthday was on Wednesday. We all went out for dinner (At the same place where I work, THANKS. Totally how I wanted to spend my time after I'm done with my shift for the day... But whatever, Grandpa likes the ribs there, it's not my birthday, so I shut the hell up and dealt with it...), and I broke my news about me taking my grandparents to the Notre Dame/Stanford game next season. As I suspected, it went over VERY well! My grandpa couldn't believe it, and my grandma kept going on and on about how she REALLY can't wait for football season, now. :-D I was a bit shocked in that I didn't get any sort of protests from them about how I'm spending entirely too much money on them, I didn't have to do that, blahblahblah. To which I say, good. Be excited! I want them to be! My grandpa was even more thrilled when my mom jumped in with, "Since Steph's going, she can drive so you don't have to worry about that!" Eeeek. An aspect of this that I hadn't considered. My grandpa now being 75 years old, he still drives, but he doesn't like a lot of traffic. Hence me being volunteered to act as the chauffeur on game day... I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll gladly do it, I'm just not thrilled at having to deal with game day traffic. As a general rule of thumb, I avoid the South Bend/Mishawaka area every home game simply because that area in general tends to be a zoo. But I'll be right in the thick of it this fall... Oh, well. The end will more than justify the means! Now, to just keep myself occupied until October...
Speaking of football season, it's looking more and more likely that my boy Brady will be faced with another season of being on the bench. NOT thrilled about this. This fall it will have been TWO years since I last saw him play a whole game! Since then, it's been the occasional glimpses that I was allowed during last year's preseason, plus sitting breathlessly in front of the TV on the rare occasions that they decided to show Browns games in my area in hopes that the camera at least gives me a shot or two from the sidelines. Can you say withdrawal??? Year one of this shit was hard enough. I could very well go mad during year two. I'm going to have to dig pretty deep to keep myself from not going crazy while waiting out this drought... Sigh... DAMN, I miss him! Oh, and it was two months ago yesterday that I had my real, live, in-person Brady experience. If I close my eyes and think about it, I can still feel his hand on my back...
Oh, before I go... The caramel shortbread squares? Awesome! I found another keeper! :-D
Monday, June 2, 2008
Know your blogger!
(Oooo, double-post day! Lucky you! :-P)
Odd little observation that I'm kind of laughing at myself over that I want to share before I get to the main reason why I'm here at the moment...
I spend six days a week in a kitchen. I'm pretty sure that anyone who has read this thing gets the impression that it's not really my favorite place in the world to be. And they'd be right. However, something that I like to do for fun in my spare time? Baking. I LOVE to bake. And I'm always on the lookout for new recipes to try. Which is what I did this evening. (Caramel shortbread squares. I don't know how they turned out yet because you have to let everything cool down and set completely before you cut into it. I'll get back to you on that.) As I'm stirring my saucepan filled with boiling caramel mixture, the irony of it all hit me... I work in a kitchen for a living. As such, if it weren't for my microwave and my grandma insisting on cooking enough to feed an army nearly every damn night, I'd starve to death. I get one day off a week, Mondays. So what do I do on my day off? Tinker around in my kitchen. Damn it.... LOL.
But anyway....
I get these weird little "get to know your friends" surveys in my e-mail from time to time. I actually do fill them out and send them on when I get bored. But today I figured I'd put a bit of a different twist on it and post one here...
(x) Gone on a blind date
(x) Skipped school
() Been to Mexico
(x) Been to Florida
() Been to the Caribbean
( ) Been overseas
(x) Been on a plane
( ) Jumped out of a plane
() Been on a Helicopter
(x) Been on a train
(x) Been lost
(x ) Been on the opposite side of the country
( ) Gone to Washington, DC
(x) Swam in the ocean
(x) Cried yourself to sleep
(x) Played cops and robbers
() Recently colored with crayons
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
(X) Made prank phone calls
(x ) Still Catch snowflakes on my tongue-
(x) Danced in the rain
(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus
() Been kissed under the mistletoe
(X) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
(X) Blown bubbles
() Gone ice-skating
() Gone water Skiing
1. Any nicknames? I'm most commonly known as Steph. However, I'm Stephie to my grandparents, my best friend's mom and dad, sometimes my boss, and anyone who wants something from me. :-P I get the occasional Stephers, too...
5. Body Piercings? Ears, three times each.
6. How much do you love your job? Pffft...HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Oh, you were serious?
10. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Oh, probably, but I haven't done that in a long time.
12. Ever steal any traffic sign? nope
16. Favorite pie? Ooooh... While I never met a dessert I didn't like, I'm going to have to say pumpkin...
17. Favorite number? 10 (duh)
23. Favorite brand of body wash? I'm rather fond of the Berry Smoothie stuff from Suave
You've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a shit.
"You know, I don't know why we're so mean to her. It's not like she's done anything to us."
Um, excuse me? What?
The her in question is the bitch that my boss was (Is? I have reason to believe there's still something there...) fucking around with a couple of years back. And back when they were hot and heavy, every single employee there grew to absolutely HATE her. She became one of those people that pissed you off just by looking at them. We grew to hate her not only because she was an arrogant, presumptuous bitch, but also because my boss was so far up her ass that he blatantly ignored his duties at work. Which fucked up our universe. And now S. wants to make nice with her? Fuck that! This is strange to me, given that only a couple of months ago, S. was bitching to me about how this woman was constantly snippy with her, even going so far as to yelling shit at her out the window of her boyfriend's truck as S. was walking out to her car after work. We decided that she didn't like it that S. was so friendly with the guy she was messing around with. Of course, this all came out before I knew JUST how friendly they were... Which, in turn, lead me to believe that this sudden willingness to forgive and forget stems from the fact that S. can actually relate to the whore. Again, fuck that. I looked right at S. and said, "You go ahead and think whatever the hell you want, but I'm still gonna hate her guts. Her presence alone was enough to fuck up my work environment, and to me that's reason enough for me to hate her." And I walked away while (I was sure, I could feel it) S. just stared at me. It's true, though! Don't give me that bullshit. All of a sudden we LIKE the whore? Pffft... What planet are you on, love? And then, the day after that, S. walks in to work in tears and wastes no time in whining to the boss about how it's unfair that everyone gets to take time off except her. Apparently, A. asked for a couple of days off next week to do some things with her kids, and S. didn't like that because she'd have to pick up the slack. Well... She didn't HAVE to, I probably could have offered a bit extra of my time, but...Nah. If she's going to get the extra cash thrown her way on a regular basis, far be it for me to do anything for her to NOT earn that shit honestly. What's my motivation, really? I only got ONE bonus after a straight MONTH of busting my ass, while S. gets extras all the damn time? *snort*... She's lucky I offered to pick up the double shift this past Sunday, when Buchanan High had their graduation ceremony so about half the staff needed that day off. Then she has the audacity to start crying to me how it's so unfair that everyone gets to do things with their kids but she doesn't. "I mean, I was supposed to have that day off last Wednesday, but THAT got taken away from me...When am I supposed to be a mom?" Okay. Two things wrong with that, dear. One, because you are such a kiss ass, you immediately offered to give up your day off the second someone else put in for one, without even being asked. I, personally, would have (and actually DID, before, when trying to wrangle the weekend off to go have my arm around Brady Quinn) told everyone to kiss my ass, I had that day first, sorry about your luck, I'm not budging. (Note to self: Put in for October 4th off NOW. More on that later...) Don't come crying to me because you don't get enough time off. You did this to yourself. Secondly, when you first told me of your plans to take that day off, you told me that you were going to spend a day all by yourself, no asshole baby-daddy, no kids, no nothing. Told me this a few times, in fact. So don't even try the whole "I've got kids, too!" defense when I KNOW you had no plans whatsoever to include your children in your day away from work activities. Needless to say, I refused to show up at her pity party. And she proceeded to be pissy with me for the rest of the day because of that. Oh, well. Is this the face of one who cares?
Damn, I need to put in for my vacation time...
So, yeah, just what am I doing with myself on October 4th, you might wonder? Well, I just so happened to get some tickets to a Notre Dame home football game! Well, I don't actually HAVE them yet, I got them through a broker who doesn't have the tickets in their possession yet, but they will be getting them and they'll be in my hands as soon as they get their shipment in. I'd actually been working on this for about a week. Within the span of about a month and a half, I have my grandpa's birthday, Father's Day(I always like to do something for my grandpa that day, because, well... Anyone who's kept up with this here blog knows the deal.), my grandparents' anniversary(49 years...Amazing. Inspirational!), my grandma's birthday, and my grandma will be retiring in July, as well. LOTS of big doings going on, all involving my grandparents. So I'm sitting around, wracking my brain for what to do for all of this, when the idea hits me... How about I do something big and just kill several birds with one stone? And hey, since I'd been wanting to see what I can do about getting myself to a Notre Dame game this season, how about I try to get all three of us tickets? My grandparents are big Notre Dame fans as well. In fact, I credit them for creating my fanaticism. Some of my earliest memories are of me sitting on my grandpa's lap on any given Saturday afternoon in the fall, watching Notre Dame games on TV. So I KNOW they'll love this! So I do some digging around, find a broker who was willing to haggle via eBay, and I closed the deal on this Saturday evening! Three tickets to Stanford at Notre Dame. I don't know where we'll be sitting yet, I won't find out until I actually have the tickets for myself. I'm fully aware that I've most likely bargained myself into the nosebleed section, but I don't care. To me, just being there is all that matters. I'm probably biased, but there is NOTHING like the game day atmosphere at Notre Dame. One of the most spectacular things in the world, in my opinion! I'm already so excited I can hardly contain myself! I decided that I wanted to wait until my grandpa's birthday (this Wednesday) to break the news. I know that's only a couple of days from now, but it's going to be all I can do to keep my mouth shut until then! Hell, I just got off the phone with my grandma, and I had to use quite a bit of self control! LOL!!! I know, though, that when I do tell them about this, they're going to go on and on about how I shouldn't have done that, how I spent way too much on a gift for them, etc., etc. But whatever. I didn't even have to think twice about doing this for them. My grandparents have done and continue to do so much for me all the time, this is the very least I can do for them. They deserve it, and it's worth every penny as far as I'm concerned. My only thing is that now I'm going to be even THAT much more anxious for football season to get here. If it weren't for my Cubs playing, and playing WELL, I'd probably be going insane right about now. (And while I'm on THAT subject, I just want to say real quick: VOTE GEOVANY SOTO FOR NATIONAL LEAGUE STARTING CATCHER AT THE 2008 ALL-STAR GAME! Yes, there are other Cubs players on the ballot, too and they're all outstanding and deserve a look, but I'm really high on this Soto guy. He's amazing with the bat, is an excellent defensive catcher and handles a pitching staff wonderfully! This guy has the makings to be one of the best catchers ever to play the game, and he's only a rookie, so the scary thing is he's going to get even better! And yes, I believe he should be considered for NL rookie of the year, too, but I won't bore you with that since the people have no say in that particular decision.)
In mid-life crisis news, my mom walks in the door a few days ago and immediately begins looking at me with this shit-eating grin. We say our hellos and I leave it at that, but she continues to give me that wild-eyed, crazy expression. I have seen this look many times before from her. It's the classic Mom "I did something naughty and I don't want to tell you but I probably will anyway" look. So she leaves me no choice but to initiate the following exchange:
"What did you do?"
"Huh?"
"What did you do? You're giving me that look, I know you did something, what the hell did you do???" (Yeah, fabulous, isn't it? Who's the parent and who's the child here?)
"Oh, um... you mean S. didn't tell you?"
"NO!" She apparently tells S. in hopes she'd be the one to tell me about whatever it is. Lovely.
"I, uh, got a tattoo..."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah, I went and did it last night!" At this point she begins to undo her pants, which prompts an "Oh, HELL NO!!!!" from me. Mom quickly reassures me it's nothing like that, and shows me a design on her lower back. Yes, folks, my mom has what is known in tattoo vernacular as a tramp stamp. Joyous. Anyway, it's a tribal design of sorts with four flowers and a butterfly thrown in. It is a cool piece of artwork, really. Even cooler when you know the story behind it, why my mom chose the colors that she did: There is one red flower, one blue flower, and two white ones. The red signifies her. Her birthstone is a ruby, hence the red. The blue flower is for my sister(September - sapphire - blue), and the white ones are for my brother and I(April - diamond - white). The butterfly is above my sister's flower. That represents my niece, and is a turquoise green for her birthstone(I can't remember what it is at the moment). She says she will add to it with each grandchild. To which I said that I'd pop out eight kids just to fuck with her. LOL. But in all seriousness, she may live to regret that idea, since my brother has made it known that he'd like a large family...;-) But like I said, it really did come out very nice. It's pretty. And the meaning behind it is awesome, because as we all know, nothing says "I love you" like having a representation of yourself etched into someone's skin in permanent ink. Okay, being facetious there, but it really is a nice gesture in it's own little fucked up way. And thus I think it's cool. Yet at the same time, I think it's kind of ridiculous because this IS my mother. Who will be 47 years old next month. And just got her first tattoo. And it's a tramp stamp, no less. Holy hell.... And she's already said that she wants to go back a little later and get a little hummingbird on her lower abdomen, kind of by her pubic bone. Which I was afraid might happen, because I've heard it said several times by those that have them that once you get one tattoo, you'll want another one. Yikes. This woman is not taking getting older well, I don't think. She's always been a bit on the rambunctious, throw-caution-to-the-wind side(I like to joke that she's the Edina to my Saffron -- somebody PLEASE get this reference), but it seems to be getting progressively worse. My sister and I have talked, and we've agreed that it seems the older she gets, the more wild and crazy our mother becomes. I'm a bit terrified of what's going to happen once she hits 50....
Not only is my mom tattooed, but my sister is going to get one (She's going to take my niece's birth certificate in and have the artist do the baby's footprints on her shoulder, with "Brianna" underneath), and my brother has a tribal armband and plans to (if he hasn't already) get his last name all across his shoulder blades in Old English lettering. I'm the only one who isn't completely sold on the ink. I was actually on the fence about getting one for about 5 years or so. But I've ultimately decided against it. I know that the whole idea of having a tattoo is getting something that makes you unique from everyone else, but if it seems that everyone else has a tattoo as well, that doesn't really make you very original, does it? At least, that's my reasoning, and it's why I've chosen not to get one. I kind of like the idea of being the only one out of my mom and my siblings to NOT have one. THAT is what makes me stand out. Not just within my family, but to the rest of the world, as well. The tattoo thing has just become so cliche in my eyes... Not getting one is my way of rebelling, LOL.
A bit of a side note regarding my previous post... For about three days after my flower-planting excursion, my ass and my upper thighs were sore as hell!!! I guess that'll happen when you're not used to being crouched down for about five hours straight... Damn you Uncle Jim and your crazy flowers!!! LOL... Thankfully, I'm feeling better now. It sucked, wincing in pain every single time I had to walk up a flight of stairs, get into my car, or even so much as sit down....:-P
