A few weeks ago, I moved. Well, my daughter and I moved. We moved out of the "family home" and into a trailer. Yes, a trailer, as in "mobile home." We live in a trailer park. Oy.
How we got here is a story for another time, which I will rant and rave about when I am good and angry. Right now, I am too tired. I am tired from working my regular job (my consignment shop), moving bags and piles of "stuff" (do I really need all this?), cleaning, painting, fixing the new place.
I refer to our new home as "88" (the house number) because I do not like to call it a "trailer." Why, I wonder to myself? Is it the stigma of the trailer park? Yes, I guess it is. I like to think of myself as a humble person. On a conscious level, I do not think of myself as better than anyone else. But... (there's always a "but," isn't there?) I guess I just feel like, at 44-years-old, after 11 years of marriage, 12 years of recovery from addiction, a soon-to-be second-grader, and a life-time of "working," I should have more to show for my life and my struggles.
Which brings me to the next question: What, precisely, should I "have?" Hmmm. More money? A "happy marriage?" A real house, not a trailer? A car that's not older than the original "Karate Kid?" Leisure time? Vacations?
I don't know what i should have, by anyone else's standards, but when I look at what I do have, I see I am one of the most fortunate people I know. I am rich in family and friends. I still have both my parents, and they are both in good health. I have aunts and sisters and girlfriends I can call for anything, at any time, and they are there for me. My young daughter is happy, healthy, bright and loving. I am not hungry, homeless or high.
I have peace in my heart. And that, in the end, is everything.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Saturday, February 14, 2009
"My 120 best friends"
So I get this email (a forward, of course) telling me - well, wait, let me back up. I get this email message that is, at first, hard to figure out. I can see from the header who it is from. I can see from the subject line that it is a forward and it is wishing me some love or something and 12 best women in my life, blah, blah, blah. But as I scroll down, and scroll, and scroll, it takes me days to get through all of the other headers and comments to get to the actual message.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am happy to be loved. It makes me feel good to know that I am important to someone. But really, if I am that important, can't you take 10 more seconds and clean up the days' worth of crap before you send it out? It seems to me to really say, "You matter to me, but not enough to really bother."
Maybe I am too cynical.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am happy to be loved. It makes me feel good to know that I am important to someone. But really, if I am that important, can't you take 10 more seconds and clean up the days' worth of crap before you send it out? It seems to me to really say, "You matter to me, but not enough to really bother."
Maybe I am too cynical.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Too much and not enough
The laptop's on the table. The bills, articles, magazines, fabric, blank cd's - all surround me, as in adoration, or perhaps anticipation. They seem to be waiting for their turn. "Read me. Pay me. Create with me." I will, perhaps. Maybe when I "have time." More likely it seems I will do it when the mood strikes me. That could be at midnight, when I can't sleep. Or at 6am, when Taffy's tiny bladder needs relief. The items wait, patiently but persistently. They do nothing by themselves.
I seem to be a collector. I battle with myself over this. I am genetically pre-disposed to "pack-rat-ism," as father is the man who has at least one of everything, provided he can find it. I want a neat, clean house, but I also want to have a button that matches, the right color shoe polish, interesting collections from every era and every place that fascinates me.
A friend recently told me about someone she worked with whose house caught on fire. Not all was lost, but there was plenty of damage. I think, what would that be like? I do not consider myself a material person; but to lose everything...? My beat up J. Crew shoes, my favorite sweater from the thrift store when I was in college, my pictures - baby, wedding, etc. How mcuh would be lost? My history. Me?
My past is dappled, no doubt, and sometimes I think it would be so much easier to erase the details - you know, clean slate and all. But that's what has brought me here, isn't it? All those experiences, mistakes, successes, failures, have made me who I am. And while there are plenty of times I'm not crazy about that chick, she's worked awfully hard to get where she is.
So I guess I won't set the house on fire tonight. I'll shift the "stuff" around when I need more table space. And I'll try to accept that it's all about balance, whether in my personal life or the piles that are nearly toppling onto the floor.
I seem to be a collector. I battle with myself over this. I am genetically pre-disposed to "pack-rat-ism," as father is the man who has at least one of everything, provided he can find it. I want a neat, clean house, but I also want to have a button that matches, the right color shoe polish, interesting collections from every era and every place that fascinates me.
A friend recently told me about someone she worked with whose house caught on fire. Not all was lost, but there was plenty of damage. I think, what would that be like? I do not consider myself a material person; but to lose everything...? My beat up J. Crew shoes, my favorite sweater from the thrift store when I was in college, my pictures - baby, wedding, etc. How mcuh would be lost? My history. Me?
My past is dappled, no doubt, and sometimes I think it would be so much easier to erase the details - you know, clean slate and all. But that's what has brought me here, isn't it? All those experiences, mistakes, successes, failures, have made me who I am. And while there are plenty of times I'm not crazy about that chick, she's worked awfully hard to get where she is.
So I guess I won't set the house on fire tonight. I'll shift the "stuff" around when I need more table space. And I'll try to accept that it's all about balance, whether in my personal life or the piles that are nearly toppling onto the floor.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Don't Bring Me Down, or Maybe Do
So turns out I'm not going to California after all.
First off let me say that my mother is just about the most wonderful person you would ever want to meet--kind, sweet, patient as the day is long, and totally good. Even her daughters' husbands can't find anything to complain about in their mother-in-law.
However. If ever you have something in your life about which you are excited or hopeful? Don't tell her! California? Isn't that an awful lot of travel time to spend just a couple of days? And it's February, so what if there's bad weather (which can mean a blizzard here at home which will prevent me from taking off on time, a blizzard in New York which will prevent me from connecting properly, or blizzards in either or both of here and New York on the way home which will prevent me from connecting and/or landing as scheduled).
And there you have it. A mere 30 seconds of well-intentioned worry changed the whole thing for me. She didn't even have to mention the money.
Truthfully it's really difficult to remain positive about a trip like this, at least after the initial glow of excitement wears off a day or two in. I went once before and it was a LOT of work. I travelled overnight both ways, resulting in a lot of lost sleep; the kids were with my mother-in-law half the time and my mother for the other half, which included two school days, so just trying to type up their schedule for the four days I was gone was dizzying, nevermind packing 6 different bags (one for each of 3 kids times each of 2 places), and that didn't even include my luggage. (As a matter of fact I lost another entire night's worth of sleep to the Packing Project.)
Prior to that trip, a little over a year ago, I had only flown once in my life (well, twice, if you count there and back separately), and that on a chartered flight direct from Rochester to Denver--so I had never wandered lonely a massive airport in a strange city desperately seeking the Magic Gate to my connecting flight, and was inordinately nervous about the whole thing (which, unsurprisingly, turned out to be no big deal) until Karen helpfully pointed out to me about a week before I left, "You know, complete idiots do this every single day. You can handle it." I realized immediately that she must be right, and calmed down considerably. But all in all the trip was a whole lot of work and no small amount of stress either.
So was it worth it? Uh, yeah. First off I'd really never been anywhere before and was dying to get out of town. (My husband has been everywhere. Around the US and Canada more times than even he can count, all over Europe so many times he doesn't even want to go back, and once each to Mexico, Japan, and Australia. All work trips, not a whole lot of fun or tourism by any means, but still. He goes places, sees at least some sights, and meets some people. I stay home with the kids. So this trip was kind of a big deal.)
Secondly you can't discount the value of a few days together in the middle of 10 or 12 weeks apart. And third, we had a great time. California, in case you've never been, is beautiful. The traffic is as bad as they say, if not worse, and Brian has mostly stopped trying to talk me into moving there since we rented a car and drove around LA, so that's actually another plus. But the weather. The scenery. The palm trees, the landscape, the sunshine, the architecture-- did you know the streetlights on Rodeo Drive are actually chandeliers? It's true. The place we stayed for the two days Brian had off was amazing. And a Starbucks on every block. So while I still don't want to move there, I definitely want to go back.
But maybe not now. True, the trip would be easier this time--I definitely feel like a more confident traveller this time around, plus the kids are on February break and nobody at home would need to worry about bus times versus drop-off times, wearing boots and being sure to bring sneakers especially for gym days, etc. And with the money Brian earns on tour and the fact that Jet Blue flies between Rochester and each of my prospective destinations, we could afford it. But honestly, it would take so much effort to talk myself into the trip, I just don't think I'll have enough emotional energy left over to talk my mother into babysitting.
First off let me say that my mother is just about the most wonderful person you would ever want to meet--kind, sweet, patient as the day is long, and totally good. Even her daughters' husbands can't find anything to complain about in their mother-in-law.
However. If ever you have something in your life about which you are excited or hopeful? Don't tell her! California? Isn't that an awful lot of travel time to spend just a couple of days? And it's February, so what if there's bad weather (which can mean a blizzard here at home which will prevent me from taking off on time, a blizzard in New York which will prevent me from connecting properly, or blizzards in either or both of here and New York on the way home which will prevent me from connecting and/or landing as scheduled).
And there you have it. A mere 30 seconds of well-intentioned worry changed the whole thing for me. She didn't even have to mention the money.
Truthfully it's really difficult to remain positive about a trip like this, at least after the initial glow of excitement wears off a day or two in. I went once before and it was a LOT of work. I travelled overnight both ways, resulting in a lot of lost sleep; the kids were with my mother-in-law half the time and my mother for the other half, which included two school days, so just trying to type up their schedule for the four days I was gone was dizzying, nevermind packing 6 different bags (one for each of 3 kids times each of 2 places), and that didn't even include my luggage. (As a matter of fact I lost another entire night's worth of sleep to the Packing Project.)
Prior to that trip, a little over a year ago, I had only flown once in my life (well, twice, if you count there and back separately), and that on a chartered flight direct from Rochester to Denver--so I had never wandered lonely a massive airport in a strange city desperately seeking the Magic Gate to my connecting flight, and was inordinately nervous about the whole thing (which, unsurprisingly, turned out to be no big deal) until Karen helpfully pointed out to me about a week before I left, "You know, complete idiots do this every single day. You can handle it." I realized immediately that she must be right, and calmed down considerably. But all in all the trip was a whole lot of work and no small amount of stress either.
So was it worth it? Uh, yeah. First off I'd really never been anywhere before and was dying to get out of town. (My husband has been everywhere. Around the US and Canada more times than even he can count, all over Europe so many times he doesn't even want to go back, and once each to Mexico, Japan, and Australia. All work trips, not a whole lot of fun or tourism by any means, but still. He goes places, sees at least some sights, and meets some people. I stay home with the kids. So this trip was kind of a big deal.)
Secondly you can't discount the value of a few days together in the middle of 10 or 12 weeks apart. And third, we had a great time. California, in case you've never been, is beautiful. The traffic is as bad as they say, if not worse, and Brian has mostly stopped trying to talk me into moving there since we rented a car and drove around LA, so that's actually another plus. But the weather. The scenery. The palm trees, the landscape, the sunshine, the architecture-- did you know the streetlights on Rodeo Drive are actually chandeliers? It's true. The place we stayed for the two days Brian had off was amazing. And a Starbucks on every block. So while I still don't want to move there, I definitely want to go back.
But maybe not now. True, the trip would be easier this time--I definitely feel like a more confident traveller this time around, plus the kids are on February break and nobody at home would need to worry about bus times versus drop-off times, wearing boots and being sure to bring sneakers especially for gym days, etc. And with the money Brian earns on tour and the fact that Jet Blue flies between Rochester and each of my prospective destinations, we could afford it. But honestly, it would take so much effort to talk myself into the trip, I just don't think I'll have enough emotional energy left over to talk my mother into babysitting.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
On Procrastination
It's why I'm not at the grocery store. It's why my list is not even made yet. It's why my feet are cold (socks aren't washed), it's why I'm writing this blog now (would rather do this than shop) and also why I didn't write this blog before now (was busy playing free cell, even past the point where rationalization could justify it, to the point where I could no longer ignore the fact that even rationalization no longer justified it). I even got as far as closing down all my programs and almost clicking on the start menu to shut down before I remembered one more thing I could do before I turn the computer off.
But why do I procrastinate so? I learned not to in college. No really! In high school I would always put off assignments, phone calls, college applications, and getting out of bed until the last possible second. But in between high school and college I had a baby, and once I was trying to juggle 18 credits in 2 days a week on campus, a part-time job, and the parenting of a toddler, it wasn't long before I figured out that I had better get started on that ten-page paper a few weeks beforehand, because if I put it off until the night before it was due and then suddenly an ear infection struck, I was sunk. Somehow I had become so conscientious that I didn't even have to figure that out the hard way, earning straight A's that semester and even graduating from community college with my associate's degree still pulling a 4.0.
So what happened? Well, I'm sure clinical depression has a little something to do with it too, but personally I'm blaming it on the lack of external validation. I don't get a report card anymore. I wonder if that would help make me a better housekeeper (I totally suck at housekeeping, by the way). Maybe the looming prospect of getting a D in sock sorting would motivate me. (I was such an overachiever in school that although this may sound crazy I assure you it is actually very likely to be true.) I would try writing myself a report card but that seems like such a daunting task that I am quite sure all I would do is add it to the bottom of my list and then busily begin procrastinating!
So some other time we'll talk about my completely appropriate and yet insane overuse of parentheses and italics, but for today...<sigh>...I'd better get myself to the grocery store.
But why do I procrastinate so? I learned not to in college. No really! In high school I would always put off assignments, phone calls, college applications, and getting out of bed until the last possible second. But in between high school and college I had a baby, and once I was trying to juggle 18 credits in 2 days a week on campus, a part-time job, and the parenting of a toddler, it wasn't long before I figured out that I had better get started on that ten-page paper a few weeks beforehand, because if I put it off until the night before it was due and then suddenly an ear infection struck, I was sunk. Somehow I had become so conscientious that I didn't even have to figure that out the hard way, earning straight A's that semester and even graduating from community college with my associate's degree still pulling a 4.0.
So what happened? Well, I'm sure clinical depression has a little something to do with it too, but personally I'm blaming it on the lack of external validation. I don't get a report card anymore. I wonder if that would help make me a better housekeeper (I totally suck at housekeeping, by the way). Maybe the looming prospect of getting a D in sock sorting would motivate me. (I was such an overachiever in school that although this may sound crazy I assure you it is actually very likely to be true.) I would try writing myself a report card but that seems like such a daunting task that I am quite sure all I would do is add it to the bottom of my list and then busily begin procrastinating!
So some other time we'll talk about my completely appropriate and yet insane overuse of parentheses and italics, but for today...<sigh>...I'd better get myself to the grocery store.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
New Year's Resolution: Move New Year's to Easter
Well folks, today is Saturday, January 5th, which has given all of you 5 days now to fall down on the job of sticking to your New Year's resolutions. Notice that I say "all of you" and not "all of us"--this is because I have resolved not to make any more New Year's resoltuions until somebody moves January 1st to May. At least April. Heck, I would even take March, to be perfectly honest.
I mean, whose idea was this? Clearly somebody living in a far different climate than mine. Because here in upstate NY the days are very short, the nights are very long, the weather is very cold, and the population is very depressed. So what kind of resolution, I beg you, is it possible to follow through on under these conditions? Losing weight? Getting in shape? Eating right?Well you're certainly not going to do 3 laps around the block every morning in subzero temperatures and 3 feet of snow. Matter of fact, you're unlikely even to drive to the gym. And I can tell you about the fresh produce in season at the moment: NONE. Fresh fruit and vegatables are expensive and not all that tasty round about now. Getting organized? Volunteering? Getting a tan? Forget it. At least in my family, you're doing well if you can get out of bed every morning. If you can actually make it out the door on a daily basis you're like some freakish kind of superhero. If you're lucky enough (tongue firmly implanted in cheek) to be an 8:30-to-5-er and you don't sit near a window, you can vitually go for months without every seeing the sun--it is still dark when you get to work in the morning, and already dark when you leave to go home at night. I mean, you've got weekends, I supppose, but really...
So this year I've decided to make my New Year's resolutions at Easter--near the vernal equinox--a time of hope, renewal, new life, new beginnings, growth--a time when I've actually got a prayer of sticking to them.
I mean, whose idea was this? Clearly somebody living in a far different climate than mine. Because here in upstate NY the days are very short, the nights are very long, the weather is very cold, and the population is very depressed. So what kind of resolution, I beg you, is it possible to follow through on under these conditions? Losing weight? Getting in shape? Eating right?Well you're certainly not going to do 3 laps around the block every morning in subzero temperatures and 3 feet of snow. Matter of fact, you're unlikely even to drive to the gym. And I can tell you about the fresh produce in season at the moment: NONE. Fresh fruit and vegatables are expensive and not all that tasty round about now. Getting organized? Volunteering? Getting a tan? Forget it. At least in my family, you're doing well if you can get out of bed every morning. If you can actually make it out the door on a daily basis you're like some freakish kind of superhero. If you're lucky enough (tongue firmly implanted in cheek) to be an 8:30-to-5-er and you don't sit near a window, you can vitually go for months without every seeing the sun--it is still dark when you get to work in the morning, and already dark when you leave to go home at night. I mean, you've got weekends, I supppose, but really...
So this year I've decided to make my New Year's resolutions at Easter--near the vernal equinox--a time of hope, renewal, new life, new beginnings, growth--a time when I've actually got a prayer of sticking to them.
Friday, January 4, 2008
California, Here I Come!
I've recently made a decision to visit California. Recently like in the last 10 minutes. I'm going next month, to visit my husband, who doesn't yet know that he will be there. So now I just have to find someone to take care of my 3 boys (ages 13, 8, and 5), book two flights to/from a total of 3 different cities, book a hotel room, pack the kids, pack myself, lose 20 pounds, get a tan, and figure out how to pay for it all. Oh yeah, and someone will need to feed the cats. Plus it looks like I will be flying overnight both ways, so I will need to budget a substantial flexible spending amount for Starbucks and possibly NoDoz.
How can three days in the sun be worth all this, you ask? I have but one word for you: February.
How can three days in the sun be worth all this, you ask? I have but one word for you: February.
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