Category Archives: My Sisters and Me

Bright, Bright Sunshiney Day…

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Don’t laugh.  I totally have that song earworming it’s way through my head right now, but it fits.  It feels like my view on everything has shifted, righting itself for the first time in years.

Those of you who follow my blog are already aware that I lost my little sister to violence some years back.  It rocked my world.  I couldn’t make myself do anything beyond just getting out of bed and it was a chore doing even that most days.  After about three weeks of this, I visited my doctor and obtained a prescription for anti-depressants.  I won’t lie; they helped immensely.  They numbed me enough to enable me to function.  Gradually, I started living again, but as a calmer, quieter, different version of myself.  But the anti-depressants had numerous side-effects: sleeplessness, weight-gain, blood pressure spikes, etc., so my doctor prescribed other pills to offset those side-effects.  Each new pill had yet another side-effect and my doctor continued to prescribe in an effort to keep me stable.  By last March, I was taking almost as many medications as my diabetic 69-year-old father. At my last visit, my doctor wanted to prescribe yet another medication.  I couldn’t bring myself to fill it.  I was done.  And so I weaned off gradually.  Today I am on my 11th day free of meds and for the first day in a long time, I feel like me.  Here are few things about myself I totally forgot.

I am a crier.  Okay, I was never exactly proud of this trait.  Who wants to be known as the girl who cries over Hallmark commercials?  Or, as I told Faith this morning, that one VISA commercial where the woman flies all the way from Australia to be with her pregnant sister as she delivers her first child?  I believe my reaction consisted of copious tears and me proclaming that, “I would totally fly from Australia to be with Faith like that!!!!”  It’s actually a relief to cry over sad scenes in movies or in books; or because a friend gives you an unbelievably considerate and generous gift; or because the sky is a perfect shade of blue and the wind is blowing your hair all around and the knockout roses in the backyard smell divine and this moment in this particular day couldn’t be any more beautiful or wonderful.  It’s a relief.

I am passionate about my opinions and beliefs.  This has recently led to trouble as medicated me was more likely to avoid discussions about touchy subjects such as politics and religion.  Non-medicated me strongly wants to defend my beliefs, agrees with whomever said that the status is not quo, and has utterly no problem stating her positions on life and calling a spade a spade.  Or as in the most recent case, a fucking idiot, a fucking idiot.  I’m looking at you, Rush Limbaugh.  I was forced to apologize for the four letter expletive, but I stand my ground on the sentiment.  Just saying.

I like being physically active.  No, I really do.  Stairs work just as well as elevators.  Navigating the hilly tree-lined streets around my house makes me exhausted, but the good kind of exhausted.  The blisters on my heels hurt, but they’re fantastic because they mean I’m alive.  My heart and lungs ache from my body’s inactivity, but they’re working, pumping oxygen through me, allowing me to breathe deeply and to continue moving.  I am literally excited to go home tonight, change clothes and head outside for a while.

Theatre ROCKS!  All this pent-up energy and passion that has had nowhere to go for ages is completely psyched about the arts again.  I want to see shows, work on my play again; dude, I wanna go to the museum.  I want to see plays that make me uncomfortable-I want my world views to be proven wrong as much as I want to be proven right.  I want to engage again.  It’s been too long.

I still love pretty men.  I’m not saying I was brain-dead all those years-I mean I still got pleasure out of looking at a fantastically gorgeous guy.  It’s just the meds sort of numb all the responses down so I really only looked once, appreciated and moved on.  I’m just saying you get so much more out of it when you look two or three times before moving on.  🙂  I think I might even be willing to date again.  At least after a little more of remembering who I am first…

…because, I am a little bit of a mess trying to figure all this out.  But still, I feel like myself again.  I like who I am without the meds weighing me down.  I’m probably more exasperating to my friends and family, and I admit this is all taking some getting used to.  But I’m back.  Heh.  I’d apologize for unleashing myself on the world, but I’m not actually all that sorry.

Spoiled Rotten

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That’s me.  Spoiled rotten.  I can’t even work up a respectable self-pity episode when I’m so completely and thoroughly spoiled by the people around me.  See it’s my birthday and I’m 40.  I know, I know I don’t look a day over 39, but it’s true.  I’ve been feeling…well…sorry for myself.  I mean as a youth I had an idea where my life would be and how it would look at 40 and, I’m telling you, there is absolutely no resemblance between my expectations and my reality.  I was prepared for rampant depression, comfort eating, and perhaps a bit of wallowing.  Instead I got BFF’d.  Have you ever seen the television show, “How I Met Your Mother?”  Every time Marshall successfully argues a point with his friends he follows it up with the word, “Lawyered!”  It’s funny because he is a lawyer.  Maybe you had to be there.  Anyway, I was not lawyered.  I was BFF’d.

L2 whisked me away first to Freebirds, where I disappointed her expectations by not ordering a burrito.  We did get chocolate next door at the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.  We then went to Fresco’s in Arlington where I had a pedicure and a haircut.  The pedicure was an experience because, well, I kind of maybe haven’t shaved my legs in three weeks.  What?  It’s been cold and I’ve been wearing jeans and boots.  No need.  So I was pretty embarrassed by my Chewbacca leg-do, but I pedicured up anyway.  I have sparkly burgundy toes now.  Then I cut off my hair-it’s kind of short now, but I really like it.  BFF then took me to Half Price Books where we spent all of ten minutes before leaving abruptly for El Gabby’s, where as it turns out, a whole host of friends and family were waiting for me.  L2 gave me a good old-fashioned surprise party.  I got bling, I got seriously good hot chocolate k-cups, and I got…wow, and hard to find the words, I have deleted and retyped this exactly five times.  L2 and Work Aunt got together and collected for my cruise fund.  I don’t know how much is in the jar, but it’s a lot.  I’ll count it later, right now I am kind of basking in the idea of a cruise, but more importantly I’m basking in the idea that so many people thought to contribute to it.

See, I can whine all day about how old I feel or how I’m middle aged now, or blah wah wah, boo hoo, but the truth is that age has brought me time to find and make friends, the kind of friends who will unselfishly think up a good idea and run with it just because they want the gratification of seeing someone else have a good day.  The kind of people who will give of themselves, whether it’s time or just some goofy ass sense of humor that turns out to be much needed.  And the kind of people who let you do for them in turn.

Yes, L2, I had a good day.  I did tear up even if you didn’t get quite the reaction you were hoping for (complete and total shock v. tears).  What made me cry tonight (and made me get up in the middle of the night to type it out because I couldn’t sleep until I did) was the fact that you would go to all that trouble for ME.  That my friends think enough of me to just to sign a card or show up for dinner, much less work together to give me such a gift.  The fact that everything did that for me?  It’s sort of leaving me gobsmacked.  From the bottom of my (sober) heart, thank you for being there and for reminding me that 40 is an opportunity, not a tragedy.

Here’s to another 40 with all my friends…

New Purse!!!!!

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I don’t buy purses very often.  One, I’m picky and two, I just don’t usually really care all that much about my handbags.  I change them out maybe twice a year.  But I found a really cute purse which even got the chauceriangirl seal of approval!

Black Rivet Buckleicious Top Zip Shoulder Bag - Wilsons Leather

See???  Is it not the cutest purse ever?  Trendy buckle-icious and it holds my Nook.  I feel blessed by the purse gods.

Checking In…

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December has been a mixed bag.  How is this you may ask?  Well let me explicate.  🙂

BAD: I was deathly ill the first two weeks.  I had the raging fever, chills, nausea, coughing (snot fun!), the whole nine yards.  Wasn’t flu-which THANK YOU, OH GREAT HIGHER POWER, because after relentlessly nagging my nursing students to turn in their flu shots, they would have never let me forget this.  Wasn’t pneumonia.  It was just a nasty mean little bug which required two rounds of antibiotics and some codeine, followed by hydrocodone-based coughing syrup just to get through it.

GOOD: The tech guy at my office taught me how to VPN from home and my boss allowed me to work from home almost the entire two weeks so I didn’t have to take so much sick time.  Most days were half-days and if I disappeared offline for hours at a time to rest, no one raised an eyebrow.  My office-peeps rock!!!!!

BAD: I ran out of money, like December 4th.

GOOD: The professors pitched in and gave every single secretary in the office a cash bonus out of their own pockets.  It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to get me through the month without having to borrow money from my parents or my sister.

BAD: I was sick when my parents bought my birthday lemon pie and I couldn’t even really taste it before it went bad.

GOOD: My former boss (from social work) stopped by my office the other day and gave me a plate of her homemade lemon bars, which DUDE, those babies are awesome.  Graham cracker crust, cream cheese and lemon.  That first bite of mannah did not taste as good.  Just saying.

BAD: I am officially out of room for books.  Like literally-in my closet where the clothes should live, I have stacks and stacks of books.  There is NO MORE ROOM IN THE INN.  Which for a total book-whore like myself is sadness.

GOOD: My sister and my friends pitched in and gave me a Nook for Christmas.  And my work-group of friends who were in on the secret gave me a pretty little cover for my Nook.  What?  You want to see it?  Okay.

Tupper Quote Cover in Leaf by Barnes & Noble: Product Image

So, although, being broke and being sick on my birthday sucked dirty socks, I’m going to say that the good outweighed the bad by like A LOT.

Aside from that, there are all kinds of things going on in the lives of my family and friends that I’m truly invested in.  I have an Arizona friend I need to feel better ASAP.  I have a family member in Utah that I’m sending all my happy-this-will-totally-work vibes out to.  I have a sister who is making huge life changes and is brave and badass.  In short, with all the other stuff all the other people in my life are dealing with, I’m just feeling blessed that I get to be in their lives.

Everything’s Eventual-The Purse Edition

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So I have, my entire life, mocked chauceriangirl relentlessy for her purses.  Not the purses themselves-she has excellent taste in handbags, even if they fall more under the suitcase category than the purse category.  Either way, it cannot be denied that the vast majority of her purses are super chic and cute and awesome.  No, I mock because of what’s inside her purse.  I think you could make an argument that the contents of cg’s purse are reflective of what’s going inside that complex brain of hers.  There’s always books – though this trend has been upgraded since she now carries her Nook everywhere she goes.  There are receipts scattered, money tucked here and there…all kinds of stuff.  She even blogged about it once. 

Now I confess that my purse organization skills sometimes lack, but generally (unless I’m carrying a hobo bag, in which case, forget about it) I can find exactly what I’m looking for right away.  Money stays in the wallet, as do credit cards, my drivers license, and other stuff that belongs in a wallet.  My cell phone is always in a specific pocket, so I rarely have to search for it.  In fact, the item I most often have to dig for is my keychain which always seems to burrow straight to the bottom of my purse.  But lately, I’ve been carrying larger purses.  With deeper pockets.  The end result is that I have become cg-i-fied. 

I am cleaning out my purse today because I am ashamed, but I figured in the interest of parity, I’d provide a full and honest disclosure of my current purse contents:

From the Front Pocket (where the cell phone usually lives):

  • Benetint pocket pal-tint and lip gloss combo
  • 2 coffee flavored hard candies (courtesy of L2-and they’re freakin’ awesome!)
  • My name tag from work
  • $2.00 in loose bills
  • $0.86 in loose change
  • Burt’s Bees lip balm
  • Appointment card for my next dental visit (10/28/2010)
  • Movie stub from Twilight Eclipse
  • University ID badge
  • Various business cards from my hairstylist, Advising Trainer, and a business contact from work
  • A…um…yeah…a souvenier from a party L2 went to.  It’s teeny and it…um…glows in the dark.  Never mind.

From the Zippered Pocket:

  • My personal wallet containing all my documentation and credit cards.
  • $0.11 in personal change
  • Twelve receipts from my debit card-basically wadded up and thrown in
  • Eleven receipts from credit card-equally wadded up (note to self-stop spending so much money, ya freak!)

From the Main Snap Pocket

  • Coin purse CG gave me last night to give away to someone else
  • TA paycheck dated 8/2 in the amount of $22.17 that I still haven’t deposited into my savings account
  • Book: Industrial Magic by Kelley Armstrong, currently on page 169 “They Always Grab the Girl”
  • Coupons from El Chico and Tom Thumb
  • Plastic wrapped dinnerware set from a fast food restaurant
  • Alien lanyard purchased by cg for me as a souvenier in Roswell, NM
  • My second wallet containing my checkbook and mini-folder for the flex spending account
  • Inflatable alien (see above re: Roswell, NM)
  • More credit card receipts (seriously, NO MORE spending)
  • Beaded lanyard containing my removable disc drive/jump drive/whatever the hell it’s called
  • Mini pack of kleenex
  • Um (this is gross) one of those foam toe things they give you when you get a pedicure
  • Compact
  • TA paycheck stub from July
  • Aveda hand relief (BEST hand lotion.  EVER.)
  • Tiny bottle of Advil
  • Tiny bottle of Aleve
  • Two items of the “girls-need-it-monthly” variety
  • Coin purse
  • $1.00 in loose bills
  • Three pens

There you have it.  So I am apparently a teeny bit more like my sister than I thought, though I still maintain her list was way the hell freakier than mine.  Um.  Minus the party souvenier L2 gave me.

So sad that in this case, the bat-shit crazy person is me.

Bridezilla Bites

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This is a short and *mostly true story.  Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

[sound effect: the “dun dun” from Law and Order]

Our story opens at a seedy office complex where Rhymes with Moi (hereafter referred to as our heroine) works.  Our Heroine is a very nice person, I think we all can agree.  What kind of story would this be if she were a total bitch?  Because she is so kind, when she notices a sad coworker, she befriends her and tries to help her out.  This leads to a chain of events where coworker, who swears Our Heroine is the bestest friend she ever had, asks Our Heroine to be her matron of honor at her upcoming wedding.  Our Heroine is touched and flattered and agrees to this.

[This is the part of the story where the biographer – me – will most certainly not point out that if coworker loved Our Heroine so very much, then she would have called, or texted, or emailed, or sent a get-well-soon card to Our Heroine at least once when she was home-bound for almost two months after knee surgery, instead of ignoring her altogether and blaming it on her busy, busy life.  The biographer will also not point out that she wasn’t crazy about coworker from the start and that she thinks coworker is a big fat lying liar who lies like lying people do.  For more details on the ridiculous lies told by the lying liar coworker, please email the biographer directly and she will be happy to explicate about the types of lies told and how she will not be telling you about them.]

Our Heroine, who is fond of research, checks out books on the responsibilities inherent in matron-of-honor-hood.  For starters, there is the bridal shower.  Our Heroine holds, not one, but two bridal showers for coworker.  (Ooh, hey, I accidentally just typed cowanker before I corrected it.  Heh.) The first shower was held at the biographer’s (e.g. me) house.  Coworker was almost 45 minutes late to her own shower.  When she finally did show up, she sailed right past the biographer (AKA me) without saying a word or introducing her to the two people she brought with her.  Naturally, the rudeness wasn’t coworker’s fault, because as there always is with coworker, there was drama! happening.  I would share the drama! but I don’t actually care.  The biographer has very little knowledge about the second shower which occured at work.  This is probably a good thing as the biographer (once again, yours truly) is feeling very pissed off and prone to sarcasm at the moment.

Next up was the bachelorette party.  Our Heroine booked a “too drunk to drive” hotel room just in case the festivities got out of hand-coworker does enjoy tying one on.  Our Heroine also purchased the requisite bachelorette bling: tiara with veil, light up plastic ring rock the size of Vegas, doofy sunglasses, and blingy necklaces.  As with the first shower, coworker was late again, but this time she was over an hour late.  She proceeded straight to the liquor and dove right into the spirit of things until another bachelorette party was seated next to us at which point she began verbally bashing the 20-something year-old blonde bride to be.  Statements such as “stick up her ass” and “thinks she’s perfect” were bandied about as if coworker personally knew the stranger seated at the next table.  The biographer is certain it had nothing whatsoever to do with spiteful jealousy.

Between the bridesmaid dress, the two showers, the party, and the destination wedding trip to New Mexico, Our Heroine has shelled out close to $1000.  This is approximately $900 more than she spent on her own wedding. 

Yesterday, during the fitting, Our Heroine discovered the bridesmaid dress does not fit.  This made Our Heroine cry, which am I right, ladies?  Totally understandable.  She plans on taking to a tailor to see if it can be altered and in the worst-case scenario will just go buy another dress from her local department store.  When Our Heroine texted and emailed coworker to let her know, she was met with dead silence.  Please bear in mind that coworker actually works with Our Heroine and is currently sitting not less than 50 feet away from her.  Oh, yes, coworker knows the situation, but feels the silent treatment is the best solution to the problem.  After all, how dare Our Heroine ruin her wedding so????!!!!  Our Heroine has even offered to pull out so the perfect sea of blue dresses won’t be sullied by different shade.  And still the silent treatment.  Not even a “hey, let me process and I’ll get back to you.”

Our Heroine will not allow the biographer to send a scathing email to coworker, so the biographer (it bears repeating, me, me, me) must sadly settle for passive aggressive ass-chewing via the blog vehicle.

The biographer advises Our Heroine to tell coworker to stick it.  The biographer also knows that Our Heroine is too nice to do that, yet still urges her to reconsider.

[sound effect: the “dun dun” from Law and Order]

*the only untrue part is the seedy office complex.  It’s actually kind of a nice building…