smoking

i know i am the biggest liar when it comes to cleaning up my act, but i am putting this in writing so that i have to see it and answer to it, and don't do my usual procrastination act. saturday is march 1st. i turn 41 sixteen days later. i need to quit smoking for lil g and for myself and those who love me. i need to be strong and just say, believe and internalize that it is over and on to a better, longer and healthier life.

i feel weak but the sense of urgency is unbearably pressing.

i know i've told you all to leave me alone about it before. please, feel free to harp. i need help.

grown up on the outside

wow. i am a little in shock about how i just spent my last 15 minutes. figuring out the exact date on which i can retire. some bill was just passed today, allowing me to retire with 25 yrs of service at age 55 (instead of previous 30/62). i can officially retire on march 17, 2022, with 30 yrs on the grind. happy birthday to me. 2022? sounds a l-o-n-g time away and a lot of "you fuckin' white bitch"es to come. hope we'll at least be riding around in jetson-like flymobiles.


update: turns out that I can officially retire on Dec 2, 2017 (9 and 3/4 yrs from now) but won't be able to collect pension for five yrs after that. So I will need to find a source of income for 5 yrs starting at age 50. avon rep, envelope stuffer, fluffer.....suggestions?

d-i-v-o-r-c-e

So, after 40 yrs of praying (ok, maybe i stopped awhile ago) , g-d finally answered my prayers. must be either an effin bastard or have a bad case of cpt (for you pc types, you may substitute the "c" for croxton). anyway, my parents are finally splitting and it's just baffling to me. for years they existed within their hate-love-python-grip-of-slowly-killing-each-other and then poof. they should have probably never made the decision to be married in 10/66, but i arrived 3/67, you do the math, wizard.
they were too young, too undereducated, too inexperienced and drenched with small town societal and familial habits to ever understand what they were up against and how many strikes they had against them from the start. and except for the young part, they still are. the phone calls now are so strange, i am counseling/raising two emotionally-aged adolescents whose real sense of hope and aspiration had been put on hold 40 years ago.

blogging rules?

If someone comments on yer shig, are you s'posed to respond to the response? I am new to the scene and do not want to buck the established blogging protocol.

On that note, i still question why i cannot write "my husband" in lieu of dh, "my son" in lieu of ds, or my wetf in lieu of ur wetf on urbanbaby w/o getting banned every five to ten days.

Single, childless (aka, almost allamyfriends) friends, just ignore last paragraph.

julianna wetmore

I think about this girl all the time. I cannot get her story out of my mind.

http://www.mymultiplesclerosis.co.uk/misc/juliannawetmore.html

a more current link:

http://www.julianawetmore.net/

grapes of wrath

about 10 years ago i had a 9th grade class for an english elective course. even though i taught science, i had the right degree and my program mandated it. now, bear in mind that the schools that i have always worked for are entirely special ed and in bed-stuy brooklyn. comprised of entirely emotionally and behaviorally disturbed kids. in other words, they are not easy.

despite its lack of overt hip-hop/sex appeal, the complexity of the text and their complete lack of grade-level reading skills, i decided that we were going to tackle the '"grapes of wrath".

i was the butt of uproarious laughter when i asked if we might have it in the book room. so i bought 12 used copies with my own money and off we went. the kids rolled eyes at first, told me "to fuck off that they weren't reading a book with so many fucking words", threw books across the room, etc. Days of resistance, but eventually was able to start. Not to stand and deliver here but, long story short, kids got into it, and actually completed reports (with hand-over-hand assistance) that were remarkable for "them".

So, I decide that I will show them the original movie. Kids are pumped to be able to stare at a screen instead of doing anything else, I am nervous due to the film being black and white and maybe too boring.

Opening credits pass, groans, "this sucks, i'm fucking out of here". Then a few silent moments. On edge of seat, I race, "maybe they like it? yay, for me, i'm a great teacher!"

Then......."what the fuck?!!! These people are WHITE??!!!! We've been reading about a WHITE family for two months? !!!! get the fuck outta here. only a family o'niggaz would travel in a (insert corny accent here) JALOPY looking for money.......I'm outta here, this is bullshit....."

Stop. Open. Power.

deep throating

So, gastrointestinal probs requiring further testing, had to have an endoscopy. having just come off the easy-peasy colonoscopy, i was not too worried. get in, to my relief, same anaestheiosologist. then wtf? needle jabbing everywhere. and huge bubble of sleep juice forming in my hand, instead of doing it's tour of duty through my veins. let's just say...reconfirmed my already ridiculous fear of needles, and still feeling the bruise almost 2 weeks later.

that was the good part.

then a ridiculously large tube forced like a firehose down my throat, as i fight and thrash like a fish on hook and non-stop vomit burns my face and mouth for 10 minutes straight, totally awake due to above.

saw pictures of my guts later....maybe time to start watching my health.

back in a few weeks for complete results.

hail mary, mother of carl

gihyb and i moved from bedford into a sweet duplex apt on ainslie st circa '96. It was such an old established blue-collar, italian family block, that i felt that our moving-in-process, had to be somewhat civilized. But by the course, it was done with a motley cast of friends in the band van and I was a "littlebitnervousaboutwhattheneighborswouldthink". Look left, look right. Lawn chairs every direction, studying us. Shit. Like a gazelle at the watering hole at sunset, one of the sitting ones saunters toward.

M:"how the fuck many of you you are moving in there?"

me: "um only 2 of us, hi i'm..."

M: "You got a lot of shit for 2 people, how much is ray charging you for that fucking place?" I answer.

M: "Holy fuck!!!! Hey, (insert old-lady-name) Can you believe these kids are paying XXX for R's shithole!!! WTF!!!!"

Large crowd, laughing, and judging and laughing, coughing, laughing. Move in, and as darkness approached, audience lessened, lessened vanished. (nightfalls...coincidentally spent night in one of the best bars ever in ny at the end of our block that happened to be the closing night of said bar-light a candle here)

Next am. breakfast run.

M: "Still fucking can't believe you are paying X for that place. Are you rich or crazy?" (mind you the apt was uber cheap, even by williamsburg standards in '96. )

me: "ok, where can i get an egg sandwich?"

M: "who the fuck knows. you never heard of cooking, oh yeah, you're rich." puff, puff. "Oh, and here's another one", (approach her 40 yr old son) "he'll never be good for nuthin".

c: "thanks mom, have a great fuckin day", sparks up a cigarette.

M: "yeah, maybe, you can get up before fucking 3 today and fucking do-o-o sumthing?"

For the next few years EVERY single morning.......
Me: "Hey, Mary, good morning"
M: "well, I don't really know what's so fucking GOOD about it, but if you say so"

And for the next few years EVERY single night......
C: "hey, you going to the store?"
gihyb or me: "Yeah"
C: "wanna get me a beer or a smoke?"
Gihyb or me:
"Um, maybe."
"um, no."

I still see him everywhere.
I haven't seen Mary in almost a year.

But once the weather warms, I will walk a little extra up that block so I can hear "your kid is so fuckin cute, how the fuck did YOU get such a fuckin cute one?"---or----"can you buy me a smoke, or a beer?"

treehuggers anonymous

I'm sure you've read it, but if ya haven't, our mayor has approved the planting of like 100,000 trees on our city blocks. All you have to do to get a tree in front of your place is fill out this form. You don't even have to own your joint, just have to meet really easy and minimal requirements for acceptance.

good for everyone

yes, i know i just posted about the bulgarian orphanage. but the point i want to make here is that if you are smart, stop having a gazillion kids, we're killin our planet. i'm not judging you, just trying to re-direct toward adoption. if we get them earlier, they will be fine. and if more people do it, we won't have the previous post probs. just, please, consider adopting. i personally know so many awesome kids who are "on-the-market"(granted they are all teens). If people were more interested in this idea, we could make the adoption process happen younger, cheaper, faster and less painful for all. so much better for our world.

things of yore

i love, and wish i could save this house. and it is scheduled to be razed to make way for another shitty condo, despite being of historic interest, having been the main home of peter cooper when he owned all the lands surrounding.

even though the link i added is older, it still hasn't been sold/or maybe it has but plans still aren't in total implementation mode yet.

ok, i'm not being totally honest.....another link

i still love it, and wish it was mine.

feeling an urge

Feeling just a little stirring. It pokes and itches at me, here and there. A calling to green felt and dice. Throwing 27 times in a row (my record. and i made someone 10K that night at a lousy table in AC). No longer have a partner, so need to work out a trip, despite the fact that most of my immediates aren't into the gaming thing.

bulgarian orphange

I have a 13-14? yr old who lived in a bulgarian orphange til the age of 10-11. she was raped a gazillion times, fact(s). that in itself is horrible. but it makes me think about all else she dealt with. i cannot even imagine the psychotic visceral way in which she approaches the world. i am really really good with really really 'bad' kids. i have a hard time with her. she has no sense or understanding of 'the good or positive' side of life, ergo, no enticing, no encouraging for the better. she is a victim of an internal war that i cannot cure. she was adopted by a very wealthy family, who i am certain, are regretting their pro-social choice. she is a living zombie. and i wish i could help her.

2nd note. i cannot believe how brave her adoptive parents were/are. i wish i had such gumption. then again, maybe i do.

15 avocations

things i have wanted to be when i grow up, not in any particular order.

1. toll booth collector. (quiet at night, listening to the radio)
2. veterinarian
3. writer (ok, feel free to loflwrotflyao)
4. horticulturist (not sure in what capacity) just good at plants and know a lot about them.
5. judge (never really wanted to be a lawyer though, even though the practice lsats are fun)
6. Horror film screen-writer. My favorite genre, and anything good rarely written. Still hope here.
7. truck driver (quiet at night listening to the radio, plus they have cool gear, things you can plug into lighter and cook meals etc)
8. nun. only for short time, after watching sound of music for the first time. actually i guess i just wanted to be maria, except that i would marry someone nicer than the Baron, who is a bit of a douche.
9. translator- um, i really only speak a little spanish. but i did check out all of the books on esperanto when i was in jr high school. thought i was onto something there.
10. gymnast (not sure if it qualifies as it usually is over by age 19) but i really really liked doing that.
11. Major league baseball player. 1st female player ever, and now with the added bonus of being over 40. i believe i am on my way here, veeerrryyy soon.
12. Inventor. I may actually have a shot here, i make up stupid and awesome shit all the time, and it keeps getting better.
13. marine biologist (actually took marine biology classes at yale my senior year of high school and started out as bio major as freshman and quickly changed to english because i preferred my classmates better, what a fucking loser).
14. Thrift store owner. Pre-ebay, pre-me-having-any-$-dream
15. Williamsburg trailer park owner. Still have hope of buying a lot and putting 25 double-wides on it, and raping trust fund skinnies for 3k per month, while sitting in a meshed-lawn chair in the sun all day.

fancy things

Having grown up as blue collar as they come, I have been very fortunate. I got the most important lessons at an early life, "no, you cannot have that as we cannot afford it...the end" which ultimately meant learning the value of things. But I have also inherited the blue-collar curse, I fear.

GIYHB and I make an ok living. But as a working mom (omg, i cannot believe that i am defined as a working mom...i was just a kid yesterday) with lots of commitments and friends, I value time more than anything. This being said, I have a hard time "hiring" anyone to do anything for me. The bathroom floor needs tiling? Hmm, let me learn how to tile. The blah-blah-blah needs blah-blahing? I'll start a company that blah-blahs. That's just how I am. Even at work, I'd never ask anyone to do anything I wouldn't do. In fact, just go home, I'll do it.

So, my problem now. My house needs cleaning, regularly and thoroughly and even more regularly. Between lil G, Big G, our pets, us , on-going household projects and our frequent visitors, it's daunting. I had someone come once, and was so horrified the whole time that it was stress-inducing rather than relieving.

I feel too fancy hiring a regular cleaning person, even though we can afford it and desparately need it. How can I get past he feeling of being too big for my britches, and just do it?

all guts, no glory

Stopped eating yesterday after liquid lunch (not the fun kind of liquid lunch, more like the broth from a box-lind-of-liquid lunch). 6pm last night start chug-a-lugging some pretty foul tasting liquid. Much like gatorade, except sans flavor + salt. And I had to drink a gallon of the potion within 3 hrs. After 5 1/2 hrs, I finish, after throwing up into my mouth every so often and many trips to the can. Starving, dizzy and nauseated.

Wake up at 7, exhausted, but ok-surprisingly not hungry. Last drink of water 8 am, and was pretty thirsty until after 2:00 appointment. But, not too bad.

Honestly the thing I was most afraid of was not the miles of lubed-tubing headed for my back door, but the IV. Anesthesiologist, was awesome, was tolerant of my needle phobia and had it in, and me drugged in two shakes of my own tail. There was a video monitor directly in front of me for my viewing displeasure, but I was out throughout the entire violation.

Immediately after (which according to KG was all of 40 min, including a brief "sleep-it-off session"), was up and about, albeit slightly stupefied. Needed fish sticks, mac-n-cheese (from the box kind) for dinner so had slightly surreal grocery store trip en route home.

All in all, I'd rate the colonscopy pretty high in terms of medical procedures. Little uncomfortable, but very tolerable. If you have to have one, or think you should, go for it. Sorry to sound like Katie Couric, but really for such a small amount of discomfort, you could really prevent yourself from later troubles. Your guts will thank you for it.

2/5

My vote went straight to the tree. Picking the freshest candidate I've seen in long time. And it didn't work out. And I guess that was the problem. Not ripe enough for most.

I am not surprised, but am heartfully disappointed.