Ding DONG!!!!!!!!

WTF????  The front doorbell rings yesterday.  It's a sweaty San Francisco fireman who was out on a bike ride donning his tight bicycle shorts.  He stopped by unexpectedly to say "hi" as our daughters went to school together. 

I may have to rethink my stance on drop-in company. 

Drug/Alcohol Addiction

It's happened again.  The kid of somebody I work with overdosed and died.  It's soooooooo sad as this kid seemed to have it all together. 

The one pattern I'm putting together is that there is no pattern with how people become addicted to drugs/alcohol.  There is the argument that there is a genetic tendency.  There is the argument that it's environmental.  There is the argument that if you were only strong enough you could rid yourself of such demons -- which is where addicts develop shame, self-loathing and sometimes get even worse. 


What I find so amusing is another guy I work with is a 'dry drunk' as he combated his alcohol addiction only to become a workaholic and an all-purpose asshole.  He is super preachy and self-righteous to others who have not conquered their demons yet.

Now HIS son is in the hospital for almost killing himself via alcoholism. 

You love brother/sister MORE

After giving birth twice in my lifetime, each time I was handed this completely dependent infant to guide its life for the next two decades -- without instructions or guarantees of parenting skills.

Many, many times I second guess myself when I'm handling a situation with one of my kids.  Each of them has their own temperament and personality.  What works with one kid does NOT work with the other one.  This is not a one-size-fits-all deal.  Each kid watches the parental repercussions of the other sibling and just waits for the right moment to throw out the infamous, "But you let my brother/sister do X so WHY CAN'T I?  You love brother/sister MORE THAN ME."

Kids LOVE playing siblings against each other with the parents.  They love playing parents against each other with the kids.  It's their own chess game using family members.  They are natural geniuses at it.

I only had two kids for a multitude of reasons -- one of them because I did not want to have a middle child as they can't help but get lost in the family dynamic shuffle.  It's just the way it is.  However, having two kids creates an automatic polarity.



 

Invisible Me

One of the wonders of being born into a large family as an ignored female middle child is noticing  how we are *not* noticed.  We are invisible.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.

Growing up, weeks would go by and nobody would ever say my name.  Truth be told, I did not even know my real name when I went to kindergarden.  You think I'm kidding.  I am not.

All of this made me an astute observer.   I just learned to shut up and silently sit in the background.  It's amazing what people divulge voluntarily.  I don't have to do anything except just sit there and listen.  They are not even aware of my presence.  People have big mouths.  They have even bigger egos when it comes to social media.  They voluntarily post excruciatingly personal information and then get wigged out when it's used against them.

Being a nondescript, anonymous nothing has worked out incredibly well for me.  I'm so happy that "nothing" amounts to "something."

--Anonymous

The Quake

Yes.  We live in earthquake country.  I was starkly reminded of that at 3:20 AM on Sunday morning.  In retrospect, I should have sensed something.  That night my cat was acting stangely.  He jumped up onto my bed, but did NOT want "love-enz" and jumped down.  About five minutes later, he jumped up onto the bed again, gave me a pathetic "meeeeee-ow" and jumped down.  That pattern continued until I fell asleep.

About 2:00 in the morning I was awakened by critters scurrying across the deck outside my bedroom.   It was like a party of rats and raccoons were line dancing.  I was on the border of getting out of bed and turning on the back light to see what was going on, but I was too lazy.  I listened to the ruckus and fell back to sleep.

Just as I was falling asleep things began to rock and shake.

Initial radio reports moments after totally dismissed the man who called in from lowly Sonoma to report real damage.  The radio station was more interested in reports from San Jose, San Francisco, and Oakland.  Little did the station know at the time was that the epicenter really was in the North Bay and they blew off reports from rural wine hicks.

Message to the  KCBS radio host:  My apologies if the epicenter of the earthquake was not more centrally located in the larger metropolitan areas to draw a larger listening audience for your pre-dawn radio show.  Somehow, I don't think Mother Nature gives a you-know-what.  The only plus side is that the skittish tourists who invade Sonoma/Napa will leave!  THANK YOU EARTHQUAKE GODS.

Can I now get to Napa with a little less traffic?????????

Just Popping In: Please don't

I live in a fishbowl.  I have relatives who live up my ass and around the corner, knock three times and come on in. 

Seriously, I need to barricade myself in my own home with garage door shut and blinds closed.  If I don't, the nearby relatives take it as an invitation to walk in through the garage (unannounced) with others thinking that I will happily drop what I'm doing to converse with them. 

Today I was a mode of cleaning and had my rhythm going.  I had furniture polish in one hand, a dust rag in the other, my hair pulled back, and wearing my grubby cleaning clothing.  I was NOT in a mood to receive guests. 

Three knocks.  Before I could even answer the door swung open -- instant company coming into my kitchen -- thinking I'm sooooooooo happy they are rescuing me of my mundane chores to hear all about what's going on in THEIR lives. 

Not really.  I just wanted to be left alone to tackle messes that have been driving me crazy as I rarely have a Saturday to accomplish such tasks.  I made the mistake of leaving the garage door open and they took it as a cue that they could barge in unannounced. 

I did not let them get far beyond the doorway.  I did not offer for them any refreshments.  I did not offer for them to even sit down, which if  I *knew*  I would never rid of them.  Still, well over an hour passed as they chatted on mindlessly as I'm watching the clock as I had my "chore" work planned.  Gripping the furniture polish and dust rag the entire time did not deter them. 

Please don't pop in on people and STAY.  It's rude. I think I'm going to start cleaning the house stark naked.  I will stand there as if nothing was wrong not even running for a robe.  If they pop in on me and shriek in embarrassment perhaps they will wait for an invitation or at least call before hand.  

Costco: Dating Hot Spot

I don't *^#@!% believe it.  I was hit on while shopping at Costco in Rohnert Park.  I was there this afternoon with shopping list in hand maneuvering the wide shopping cart through the aisles that was already overflowing with a 40 pound bag of dog food, a new dog bed, coffee, beer, and wine. 

The end caps are always congested with carts and people hovering and swooping like vultures devouring the "free samples" that are coming out of the microwave.  I had to carefully make my way through the perched food predators to get to the next aisle.  Out of sheer politeness, I yielded to a guy who also had a shopping cart full of goods and gave an apologetic smile while passing through. 

I was already an aisle or two over when the same guy approached me and asked me if my name was Geraldine from Pleasanton.  I said "no" and he then went onto say that I had a twin.  He then blurted out the question inquiring whether or not I was available and wanted to asked me out. 

I was dumbfounded.  I was flattered.  I was creeped out. 

Let's see...... I'm at Costco doing a routine shopping excursion.  A strange man approaches me from out of the blue.  Like I'm actually going to hook up with a strange guy I met at the canned goods aisle at Costco?   No. 

He must be *really* desperate.  I'm hoping by the time he got to the dairy aisle his unorthodox, clumsy approach hitting on women landed him luck with somebody else as he did not follow me out to my car. 

The Birthday

Today marks the 46th birthday of my cousin had she lived to see it.  Unfortunately, she died in a rural roll over car accident on a gravel road when she was 15.  In North Dakota, farm kids are allowed to drive at a young age because of the large, open space and the logistics of just getting to school and operating the farm trucks getting the harvest in. 

Maybe driving laws have changed in North Dakota since 1983, but that's what it was back then.

Anyway, I knew a couple days before her death something was "off."  I could not pin point it.  The day she died I did not go to school that day knowing something was wrong.  I wore a shirt that both we both bought together to be Bop-sy Twins.  I did not even like the shirt.  I wore it because my cousin liked it and thought we should own matching shirts.

When the phone rang later that evening and my mother answered it, I instinctively knew what the news was.


However, there are things that I dream and that happen I can't explain.  My cousin has not abandoned me.  There have been situations and messages I can't reason away. 

Kid Birthday Parties

I'm so glad I'm done.  Nothing stressed me out more than child birthday parties.  The Bored Moms on Prozac have determined your child's worth as to whom was invited and how much money you spent indulging their obnoxious, spoiled brats at your expense. 

When the party is over the Bored Moms on Prozac secretly give you and your kid a "score."

The following morning coffee klutch will be all about what you and your kid did wrong and how "they would NEVER allow such and such to happen at THIER kid's party." 

They will lament about how much sugar was contained in the birthday cake, and how Janie was heard using a 'bad word' when she finally stuck up for herself against the passive-aggressive Lily who pushed Janie pretending it was an accident. 

Mean Girls is not limited to a movie.  They are everywhere.  They drive SUV's and are in a neighborhood near you. 

Personality Bell Curve

I think people personalities are like the bell curve.  Remember the bell curve from statistics?  It never is 100% on anything -- just like people.  Nobody is perfect; however, there are varying degrees of goodness. 

There are people like Hitler and Charles Manson who are obviously waaaaaaaay down on the bell curve, but even people like them have their moments of goodness.  Then there are people like Mother Theresa who are saints, but just being human exempts them from perfection. 

The rest of us are muddled somewhere in between.  I guess the big cosmic question we all need to ask ourselves when dealing with people and relationships is what ratio of asshole:goodness is tolerable. 

The Mirror

Sometimes the hardest place to look when things go awry is in the mirror.  We all want to place blame on other people and external reasons -- much of the time it's us. 

We are all part of our problems. 

Media Maggots

I suppose the media thinks they are exempt from respecting the wishes of the family. 

Robin Williams: Dead

GUESS WHAT!!!!   NFS!!!!!!!!  HEY!!!!!  ROBIN WILLIAMS DIED!!!!!!!

enough already

Because he grew up and lived around here just about everybody has a "personal story" about their knowing Mr. Williams.

enough of that, too

I'm already over-saturated with the news coverage of the Bored Moms on Prozac who met him once at a gala fundraising event and comment (on camera of course) saying 'what a nice, thoughtful guy he was.'

Really?  I'm waiting to for somebody to get on camera and say, "He was a bi-polar, had ADD, and was addicted to drugs and alcohol.  He was a complete asshole to be around."

With all due respect to Mr. Williams, I do feel for the tortured souls in this world.  People like him understand the delicate state of the human condition.  He was not impressed with people and or society.  He gets it.  That's why he wanted out of here. 

Unwanted Advice

Thank you.  I never knew you understood my deepest thoughts and life experiences.  You are an automatic wizard at my family dysfunction and dynamics.  You don't even really know me.  In fact, you don't know me at all.  But yet, you are an ordained judge on my life.  You think you know better than I on how to run my life.  Oooooooh YES!  You are the freelance busybody/psychologist I *know* who will save MY LIFE.  THANK YOU...... (gag) ....You think that you can diagnose my human condition and freely blabber unsolicited advice over the BUNKO dice with all the other 'bored moms on Prozac.'

.....i knew deep down there was a reason I want to kill you all in your sleep....

Please stop.  Freelance Busybodies are the bane of the universe.  Ironically, you are all the 'bored moms on prozac' who smile at PTA meetings while serving oven-fresh, warm cookies and simultaneously poisoning the tea.

Seriously, there is a reason the PTA is targeted as a domestic terrorist group.  You all think I'm kidding.  I'm not. 

 

My Sister and the Death of an Old Flame

I was on the phone last night to my sister for about 2 hours.  She's got a heavy load and I do not envy her life.  On the outside it all looks so perfect and normal.  Growing up I was always envious of her.  She always had a following of beaus who were more than willing to jump through hoops for her. 

Anyway, she had this boyfriend in high school who was extremely good looking.  He loved my sister and I always thought they made a beautiful couple.  He was 1/2 Native American and together would have had the most gorgeous kids.  Life pulls people in different directions and they ended up parting ways but I *know* they always held a flame for each other. 

Time passes 35 years.  Old Flame looks up my sister on Facebook.  Time was not kind to Old Flame.  He did marry, but divorced.  He had a chronic disease that left him unable to walk.  However, he rode his "scooter" down to the corner bar everyday. 

My sister told me last night that Old Flame died on Thursday.  I can tell she's bothered.

In my possession I still have a bracelet that I wear to this day that Old Flame gave to my sister. 

There is also a song that reminds me of Old Flame from the days he courted my sister and we'd all drive down Central Avenue (me being annoying little sister in the back seat) and this song would come on the radio while Old Flame was chugging a beer and smoking a joint.  So much for parental supervision in the 1970's!!!!!  It's a great song, so scroll down, hit play....toke....and think of Old Flame. 

Buh-BYE: Work People You Will NOT Miss

Thank GODDESSES that an East Bay colleague of mine has taken the vacant manager's post in Las Vegas.  The East Bay Guy has been driving me up a wall for the past 5-6 years!  He's a Mormon (and loves to tell you all about it), and is from Los Angeles -- the base where scum usually proliferates and spreads north.  He dons the flashy, bleachy-white-toothy-grin while he's looking you in the eye and smiling while the knife is twisting in your back.

See, the heat is on so he needs to move on.  He's like a locust.  He comes into an area, gobbles up what he can, and when resources run scarce he's moving on down the road.  I've witnessed some less-than-straight-up business deals and loans he's put his name on and tried to pull in others in my industry.  I never took the bait so I was "blacklisted."

Before the heat came down, East Bay Guy was calling regional meeting after regional meeting mainly to monopolize the podium/microphone in front of a captive audience praising himself and his "accomplishments."  Now that the Las Vegas position has been filled, the glorious silence from the East Bay is a welcome reprieve now that grandstanding in Northern California is a moot point and will no longer serve his career objectives.  

Let's just say that the Department of Labor is interested in East Bay Guy's handiwork.  He now thinks he can seek refuge in a murky sea of thugs in Las Vegas.

We will see.

I'm happy because I don't have to listen to him anymore:)

White Trash: Reno

I have not been to Reno since my son turned 21 a few years back and we took the train from Martinez.  I highly recommend taking the train and doing so.  It's so beautiful and relaxing.  You see so many things not visible blazing at top speed on Interstate 80.  One thing is the obvious void of Chevron gas stations, Starbucks, La Quinta hotels, and Taco Bell.  The observation car on the train shows you spectacular views that we never knew existed all the years we have all gone back and forth from Tahoe/Reno. 

It was Hot August Nights up in Reno this past weekend.  Wow.  I so appreciate the cars, but the people up there were down right out of a scene from WalMart shoppers on crack. 

No, I take that back.  There were plenty of obese WalMart-types on scooters with their fat hanging off of all sides and oxygen tank side cars, all the while a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.  Damn.  That made pressing the button on the 'wheel of fortune progressive slot' even MORE of a challenge! 

Anyway, this is not about bashing everybody up in Reno.  Despite their sometimes crusty appearance I have to say that they are super friendly and not the stuck-up types I'm used to dealing with at fancy-schmancy, high-end resorts.  White Trash will actually *TALK* to you, genuinely *SMILE* and *LAUGH* -- something I find lacking Ohh La La Resort and Spa. 

Here is where White Trash takes the lead.  They have no misconceptions about who and what they are.  They embrace it all and have a good time with it.  On the other hand, the "Ohh La La Boutique and Spa" people have a major stick inserted in all major orifices and will only talk to you if they think it will somehow better their image and/or career.  They are so fake and superficial. 

WHITE TRASH IS WHERE IT'S AT, BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I should not have said anything, as now it will become super trendy..... the Ohh La La Boutique and Spa people will try to capitalize on it.  Just like being a hick "organic" farmer.