Hope everyone had a relaxing weekend...Our trip to the beach was fun, but tiring. It seemed to suck all of the energy right out of us. JugglingFreak took a nap earlier today, and that's something he *never* does. He doesn't even nap when he's sick.
My mother brought enough food to feed the Trojan Army, but then again, she always does. (At least on this occasion, I got away without her making Ziploc bags full of leftovers for me to take home with me. The last time we visited, she nagged and nagged me to take home some squash casserole. JF is the only person in our house who likes squash casserole, so I tried to decline. She tucked some into an outside pocket of my bag, without telling me. I only discovered this gold mine three days later after wandering around the house with a bottle of Febreeze -- "*Where* is that smell coming from?!?!?". So, my mother can cut you to ribbons with her accurate assesment of your failings, or she can bombard you with leftovers. Choose your poison.)
We ate until we popped, and many beers were consumed by everyone (except me and the Offspring). The weather was temperate enough that we weren't miserable, but still packed quite a punch. (My daughter informs me that my ears are "nuclear red.") We all got a touch of sunburn, but nothing too painful.
A highlight of the trip was when my parents had a very loud and epithet-filled argument with each other. I try to explain to the Offspring that this is what happens when two very forceful personalities collide -- much like warm air and cold air meeting to form storms. The tension is suddenly diffused when my mother....um....fired off a rectal salvo. That's my parents -- fighting like cats and dogs one minute, rolling helplessly with mirth and telling fart jokes the next.
"Sky High" was on tap for today. We enjoyed it. It was definitely a summer kind of movie. It had supporting roles played by Kevin McDonald and Dave Foley, both former "Kids in the Hall" members; and Lynda Carter as the school's principal. It was a coming-of-age story, but in superhero fashion. Kelly Preston and Kurt Russell play the superhero parents, and the popular kids at Sky High are portrayed with ruthless accuracy. All in all, it was a fun family film, and there were moments of humor that adults will enjoy. I was especially fond of the performances by McDonald and Foley. I always loved "Kids in the Hall," and am glad to see the two of them in just about anything.
Now, if I could just have a vacation to recuperate from my vacation! I will be travelling out of state later this week, only to come home and leave once again for an overnight training class. And, then school starts....Are the parents of school-agers ready?
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Friday, July 29, 2005
Break out the popcorn -- it's the weekend!
I'm blogging like mad right now to get a jump start on what will probably be a blog-free weekend. I am headed out to HLaBW's beach tomorrow to the 'rents. My stepfather's birthday is tomorrow, and we plan to head out to one of the barrier islands for some fun. I'm sure we'll be gone most of the day.
JugglingFreak is less than enthused about the beach. As long as I've known him (about 14.5 years now), the beach has *never* been one of the places on his must-do itinerary. His idea of "roughing it" is a hotel room with no cable. He freely admits that frying in the sun and having sand scour your unmentionables is not high on his priority list. He makes concessions, of course, because he knows he'll be nagged until the end of time by our respective mothers if he doesn't. Plus, he's fond of saying that he likes my family better than his own, so if he had to spend the day with one set, he'd rather it be mine.
My mother is one of those people whom *absolutely everyone* in town knows. She's going through (I think) her fourth childhood. My mother, who will turn 59 (God, I hope that's right, or she'll skewer me...) in September, has a Harley. Do you know how disconcerting it is to try and walk into a store and purchase leather chaps *for your mother*?!?! She has a jet-ski, and she lives in the water in the summer. Most moms of this age are more like me -- we have a serious role reversal going on. I like to read, and sew, and I like to stay home with my family. I should be the one out on the town, calling my mother from the karaoke bar when I'm three sheets to the wind -- not my mother. Welcome to BizzaroWorld.
At any rate, we will be heading out to the islands for Saturday, and recuperating from Saturday on Sunday. JF has asked that we puh-leeze take the Offspring to the movies sometime on Sunday to see "Sky High." (He's a huge Bruce Campbell fan, so it's sheer dumb luck that he hasn't dragged us by our hair to see it yet.)
JugglingFreak is less than enthused about the beach. As long as I've known him (about 14.5 years now), the beach has *never* been one of the places on his must-do itinerary. His idea of "roughing it" is a hotel room with no cable. He freely admits that frying in the sun and having sand scour your unmentionables is not high on his priority list. He makes concessions, of course, because he knows he'll be nagged until the end of time by our respective mothers if he doesn't. Plus, he's fond of saying that he likes my family better than his own, so if he had to spend the day with one set, he'd rather it be mine.
My mother is one of those people whom *absolutely everyone* in town knows. She's going through (I think) her fourth childhood. My mother, who will turn 59 (God, I hope that's right, or she'll skewer me...) in September, has a Harley. Do you know how disconcerting it is to try and walk into a store and purchase leather chaps *for your mother*?!?! She has a jet-ski, and she lives in the water in the summer. Most moms of this age are more like me -- we have a serious role reversal going on. I like to read, and sew, and I like to stay home with my family. I should be the one out on the town, calling my mother from the karaoke bar when I'm three sheets to the wind -- not my mother. Welcome to BizzaroWorld.
At any rate, we will be heading out to the islands for Saturday, and recuperating from Saturday on Sunday. JF has asked that we puh-leeze take the Offspring to the movies sometime on Sunday to see "Sky High." (He's a huge Bruce Campbell fan, so it's sheer dumb luck that he hasn't dragged us by our hair to see it yet.)
Betrayal, or the disposable friend
I've long needed a place to vent about betrayal, and having a blog seems the perfect opportunity to get it all out of my system, once and for all.
When I say betrayal, don't think I mean a trench-coated shadowy figure, intent on doing me some malevolent harm. I mean your average, run-of-the-mill stuff that shouldn't happen to Good People, but does.
I had a friend (no! say it isn't so!) that I met via online newsgroups. We all inhabited the same online clubhouse, often communicating with each other outside of this space. We became very close. I was female, he was male. There was no romantic side to this, it was purely two friends, brought together by mutual interests. Said friend knew I was married, and had no intentions of crossing any lines, just looking for people to talk with.
We became relatively good friends -- letters came and went at a great rate. I loved this friend. He was funny, warm, sweet, and always there as a shoulder to lean on. I'm a demonstrative person, so I often told him what his friendship meant to me.
One day, Friend abruptly tells me that he's no longer interested in that aspect of his life anymore. He has no wish to hurt me, but he needs to move on, as he feels the relationship has become something of an albatross around his neck. I understand cutting ties. I understand moving on, but for some reason -- this hurt me deeply. I felt as if I were completely disposable, not worth the effort to keep around. It was so out-of-the-blue, so sudden. It was like being doused with very cold water. Of course, he was as polite as can be expected -- he never said that I was dragging him down, but he told me that he could not continue on as he had been, and that our association was a major reason that he was taking these steps.
I'm not sure why, exactly, it hurt me so. I know that I felt betrayed. I have been back-stabbed before , and in much worse fashion. And, in public, too. It was more the fact that I put all of me; my very essence; out there for display and I was found so lacking that it was easiest to cut and run. In other cases, I had had the sense to not invest all of me in the relationships, and I was somewhat spared because of it.
I have self-esteem issues. It comes from many years of being the overweight, plain girl, hovering on the periphery. It comes from early adulthood trauma. It's body issues, neuroses, and endless self-flagellation. It's the trifecta of suck. I'm a therapist's dream, really. And, having been so gradually conditioned to expect this sort of behavior, why did it blindside me so?
Why does it still pain me today? I have had romantic relationships end that hurt less than this. Maybe it was the fact that he really came to know me. If you don't know me and dislike me, there's no real emotional connection there, so it doesn't really resonate. Friend knew me, said he cared about me, and *then* decided that I was so toxic that it was best just to sever all ties.
I wish that it didn't bother me so. I wish that I could say that it no longer has the power to hurt me. I wish that there was some explanation for his behavior. I wish that there was some way I could encapsulate all my hurt. I could fold it all up in a sheet of paper that I would transform into a little origami boat and set it adrift.
I hope that I never treat anyone as if they are disposable.
When I say betrayal, don't think I mean a trench-coated shadowy figure, intent on doing me some malevolent harm. I mean your average, run-of-the-mill stuff that shouldn't happen to Good People, but does.
I had a friend (no! say it isn't so!) that I met via online newsgroups. We all inhabited the same online clubhouse, often communicating with each other outside of this space. We became very close. I was female, he was male. There was no romantic side to this, it was purely two friends, brought together by mutual interests. Said friend knew I was married, and had no intentions of crossing any lines, just looking for people to talk with.
We became relatively good friends -- letters came and went at a great rate. I loved this friend. He was funny, warm, sweet, and always there as a shoulder to lean on. I'm a demonstrative person, so I often told him what his friendship meant to me.
One day, Friend abruptly tells me that he's no longer interested in that aspect of his life anymore. He has no wish to hurt me, but he needs to move on, as he feels the relationship has become something of an albatross around his neck. I understand cutting ties. I understand moving on, but for some reason -- this hurt me deeply. I felt as if I were completely disposable, not worth the effort to keep around. It was so out-of-the-blue, so sudden. It was like being doused with very cold water. Of course, he was as polite as can be expected -- he never said that I was dragging him down, but he told me that he could not continue on as he had been, and that our association was a major reason that he was taking these steps.
I'm not sure why, exactly, it hurt me so. I know that I felt betrayed. I have been back-stabbed before , and in much worse fashion. And, in public, too. It was more the fact that I put all of me; my very essence; out there for display and I was found so lacking that it was easiest to cut and run. In other cases, I had had the sense to not invest all of me in the relationships, and I was somewhat spared because of it.
I have self-esteem issues. It comes from many years of being the overweight, plain girl, hovering on the periphery. It comes from early adulthood trauma. It's body issues, neuroses, and endless self-flagellation. It's the trifecta of suck. I'm a therapist's dream, really. And, having been so gradually conditioned to expect this sort of behavior, why did it blindside me so?
Why does it still pain me today? I have had romantic relationships end that hurt less than this. Maybe it was the fact that he really came to know me. If you don't know me and dislike me, there's no real emotional connection there, so it doesn't really resonate. Friend knew me, said he cared about me, and *then* decided that I was so toxic that it was best just to sever all ties.
I wish that it didn't bother me so. I wish that I could say that it no longer has the power to hurt me. I wish that there was some explanation for his behavior. I wish that there was some way I could encapsulate all my hurt. I could fold it all up in a sheet of paper that I would transform into a little origami boat and set it adrift.
I hope that I never treat anyone as if they are disposable.
Stuff That Might Come in Handy
I'm a big believer in acronyms. I abbreviate a lot of things. I thought I'd add a list of things that I will probably, at some point, abbreviate. Having a handy list might save a few puzzled looks somewhere down the line.
"Juggling Freak" = my husband = "JF"
"The Offspring" = my lovely daughter, the fruit of m' loins = "tO"
"OzChick" = my best friend = "OzC"
"HumidityLikeABrickWall" = the coastal city I reside (and swelter) in = "HLaBW"
"SheWhoAggravates" = my Siamese Cat = "SWA"
Those are all that are coming to mind right now. I'll add more when I discover that I need them.
"Juggling Freak" = my husband = "JF"
"The Offspring" = my lovely daughter, the fruit of m' loins = "tO"
"OzChick" = my best friend = "OzC"
"HumidityLikeABrickWall" = the coastal city I reside (and swelter) in = "HLaBW"
"SheWhoAggravates" = my Siamese Cat = "SWA"
Those are all that are coming to mind right now. I'll add more when I discover that I need them.
Okay, so you talked me into it....
Thanks to some arm-twisting from the wonderful people over at Phantom Scribbler's, I decided to just wade right into this whole blogging thing. I have a lot of reservations, simply because I don't think that there's very much that I have to say that people will bother to stop by for.
As of July, 2005, when I begin this blog, I'm 34. Married. Have one daughter -- the Offspring. She is unlikely to be joined by more Offspring. (Namely, because I apparently promised my husband, the Juggling Freak, on the delivery table that he'd get to name the next child.) He insists that we have another girl-child, and name her Daphne. So, as you can all see, we won't be having any more. Not that Daphne is a bad name, per se, it's just that I figure that I won't be able to afford college *and* therapy costs by that time.
I teach kindergarten. I live in the Southern coastal US, in HumidityLikeABrickWall. I won't be any more specific than that, simply because I have relatives who will more than likely kill me if they ever see their names (and/or doppelgangers) here.
I am not a writer. I majored in English in college, but that was mainly because I consume books at a rather unhealthy rate. I read everything I can get a hold of, but am particularly fond of mysteries. I won't bother you with favorite writers right now.
I chose the title "Reluctant Prophet" because I thought that it summed up my reticence at entering the blogosphere. With all of the blogs I've seen recently, I am impressed how much people can reveal while still retaining the aura of mystery about themselves. It's like a beautiful woman, dressed in white linen in the summertime -- she reveals just enough that it makes you crave more.
I will endeavor to be like that woman -- leave you wanting a little bit more, without revealing too much in the process.
I will leave you with a warning, though...I'm not very good about posting every day. I will do my best to try and keep updating. Please remember that I'm new at this, and that I bruise easily.
As of July, 2005, when I begin this blog, I'm 34. Married. Have one daughter -- the Offspring. She is unlikely to be joined by more Offspring. (Namely, because I apparently promised my husband, the Juggling Freak, on the delivery table that he'd get to name the next child.) He insists that we have another girl-child, and name her Daphne. So, as you can all see, we won't be having any more. Not that Daphne is a bad name, per se, it's just that I figure that I won't be able to afford college *and* therapy costs by that time.
I teach kindergarten. I live in the Southern coastal US, in HumidityLikeABrickWall. I won't be any more specific than that, simply because I have relatives who will more than likely kill me if they ever see their names (and/or doppelgangers) here.
I am not a writer. I majored in English in college, but that was mainly because I consume books at a rather unhealthy rate. I read everything I can get a hold of, but am particularly fond of mysteries. I won't bother you with favorite writers right now.
I chose the title "Reluctant Prophet" because I thought that it summed up my reticence at entering the blogosphere. With all of the blogs I've seen recently, I am impressed how much people can reveal while still retaining the aura of mystery about themselves. It's like a beautiful woman, dressed in white linen in the summertime -- she reveals just enough that it makes you crave more.
I will endeavor to be like that woman -- leave you wanting a little bit more, without revealing too much in the process.
I will leave you with a warning, though...I'm not very good about posting every day. I will do my best to try and keep updating. Please remember that I'm new at this, and that I bruise easily.
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