I had the best conversation with my brother tonight. It was genuine and real and something we haven't done in quite some time.
Growing up, we were quite close and played together constantly. However, we drifted after I left for college and he was stuck at home alone with our sweet but overbearing zealot of a mother.
Since he moved to Austin this past spring, we've been able to see one another a few times and he even spent the entire weekend with Adam's family out on the boat. It wasn't until tonight though that I felt like we overcame a huge obstacle in our relationship and progresseed to becoming great friends again. He called to tell me he was drafting a letter to each of our parents to address their rude, awkward behavior toward one another since their separation over twenty years ago. He was requesting that they put grievances aside once and for all for my wedding so we could actually sit down as a family and I wouldn't have to worry about a thing on my day. I couldn't believe he thought to do such a sincere act for me and I was greatly touched. We talked about how odd our family is and how rare it was for them to speak honestly about life, and how grateful we were that we could be so candid with one another.
It occurred to me recently just how self absorbed I had been after I left home at age 18. He was 13 and greatly needed me at the time. He said that he too just realized how he harbored resentment toward me for many years because of it. I apologized to him for not being there for him or making more of an effort to check in. He understood, in light of our overprotective upbringing that it was easy to run away and not look back and he didn't blame me at all.
He even said he loved me, which has always been a difficult thing for him, and I know that he meant it. The damage done by our father's absence weighed heavily upon his growing up but I'm so proud of the man that he is becoming.
It's taken us a long time to get to this point but I'm extremely excited that we finally arrived here and I look forward to hopefully reuniting our family.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Ode to sleeplessness
Here I am again, exhausted and out of my bed when I should be sleeping, shaking limbs causing unsteady keystrokes. I am so tired of not sleeping and I wish for the life of me that someone could finally figure out what is wrong with my insides. My digestive system is completely out of whack and I've lost 20 lbs in the last six months. Most who know me well, know my meager frame cannot really spare the poundage. I honestly think I look fine but my clothes are too big and I feel like absolute crap 60% of the time. I've had multiple tests run to no avail and I'm going to a different doctor for another batch after Christmas. I just pray he can finally find a solution so I can feel like a normal human being again...and eat a full meal without feeling sick...and get a good night's sleep for a change. Oh how I miss sleep.
Friday, November 21, 2008
DO NOT CROSS
Sometimes, I wish I could create a yellow and black tape perimeter around me, my house and my little family. There are just some people in this world that simply do not comprehend social boundaries and require some sort of visual to assist them. It's a great concept, in theory, if only it were acceptable.
You see, we have run into a bit of an issue lately. A little background: Prior to us taking over custody, Ian's mom's sister and her husband used to pick Ian up from school and take him to their home every Thursday. Being that Adam and I are sharing a car at the moment and he has school this semester until 7pm on Thursdays, leaving me at work without transportation, it really helped us out to continue that plan. Unfortunately, after only three weeks of this, we have already become highly annoyed.
For one, on the very first night they dropped him off, they just waltzed into our home without an invitation and sat down in our kitchen. I'm sorry but when I go to someone's house, I wait outside the door until I am invited in and even then, I do not take a seat unless it is offered to me. I thought that was common courtesy, but apparently not everyone has received that memo. They also garnished me with hugs and kisses on the cheek. I have met these people twice in my lifetime and anyone who knows me well, knows how much I despise fake niceties.
By the second week, Ian had begun testing the waters of his new surroundings and started acting up in school again. On that particular Thursday, his uncle stood outside our home with Adam, discussing whatever Ian's teacher had said that day and offering unsolicited disciplinary advice while I was forced to entertain the aunt, who had once again made herself comfortable in my kitchen while I was making dinner. After nearly thirty minutes of conversation about Ian's transition and how much she adored our home and how she had driven around writing down numbers on homes down the street for lease (Oh God!), I asked Ian where his daddy was. Thankfully, she picked up on the hint and went outside to check on the guys. Apparently, once Adam got a word in edgewise, he was able to share his wise parental plan, which sufficiently left the whiskey-stenched uncle speechless and they left after more hugs and kisses.
After last night, we realized that there were simply too many chiefs for this one little Indian and the line had officially been trampled upon. Around 3pm, I received a call from Ian's mom, asking if I knew anything about some supposedly mandatory math night at the school. Apparently, Ian's uncle had called her after picking him up and gave her the 3rd degree about it. We had seen something on the school's billboard and heard of it vaguely, but nothing about it being required. After calling the school, Ian's mom learned it was optional and both of us got a chuckle over it. Well, that evening, a lovely friend gave me a ride home and Adam stayed up at school practicing on the flight simulators. Unfortunately for me, this meant I had to deal with the terrible twosome on my own. To my relief, their dog was violently ill at home and they dropped him at the door...but, not before reminding me about how we missed the math meeting and how they felt it was in Ian's best interest to at least do something, so they held their own math night and wrote a note to his teacher all about it. I was floored but I thanked them and wished them well with their dog, quickly procuring the boy inside. He's not actually my son, so I'd let Adam deal with it. Adam was furious as I read the note to him over the phone, giggling at the spelling of the word "excercizes".
I simply do not understand some people's lack of judgment and extreme inclination to interfere. I realize the child is not mine by blood but he does live under my roof and I care for him a great deal. Now, we have to decide how to tactfully handle this matter without causing a huge amount of drama. Thankfully, next week is Thanksgiving and Adam's only has one more Thursday night class after that, so we will no longer have the need for Thursday help, however, convincing a family member of that is most likely going to be received as an ungrateful slap in the face.
Anyone know where I can get some crime scene tape?
You see, we have run into a bit of an issue lately. A little background: Prior to us taking over custody, Ian's mom's sister and her husband used to pick Ian up from school and take him to their home every Thursday. Being that Adam and I are sharing a car at the moment and he has school this semester until 7pm on Thursdays, leaving me at work without transportation, it really helped us out to continue that plan. Unfortunately, after only three weeks of this, we have already become highly annoyed.
For one, on the very first night they dropped him off, they just waltzed into our home without an invitation and sat down in our kitchen. I'm sorry but when I go to someone's house, I wait outside the door until I am invited in and even then, I do not take a seat unless it is offered to me. I thought that was common courtesy, but apparently not everyone has received that memo. They also garnished me with hugs and kisses on the cheek. I have met these people twice in my lifetime and anyone who knows me well, knows how much I despise fake niceties.
By the second week, Ian had begun testing the waters of his new surroundings and started acting up in school again. On that particular Thursday, his uncle stood outside our home with Adam, discussing whatever Ian's teacher had said that day and offering unsolicited disciplinary advice while I was forced to entertain the aunt, who had once again made herself comfortable in my kitchen while I was making dinner. After nearly thirty minutes of conversation about Ian's transition and how much she adored our home and how she had driven around writing down numbers on homes down the street for lease (Oh God!), I asked Ian where his daddy was. Thankfully, she picked up on the hint and went outside to check on the guys. Apparently, once Adam got a word in edgewise, he was able to share his wise parental plan, which sufficiently left the whiskey-stenched uncle speechless and they left after more hugs and kisses.
After last night, we realized that there were simply too many chiefs for this one little Indian and the line had officially been trampled upon. Around 3pm, I received a call from Ian's mom, asking if I knew anything about some supposedly mandatory math night at the school. Apparently, Ian's uncle had called her after picking him up and gave her the 3rd degree about it. We had seen something on the school's billboard and heard of it vaguely, but nothing about it being required. After calling the school, Ian's mom learned it was optional and both of us got a chuckle over it. Well, that evening, a lovely friend gave me a ride home and Adam stayed up at school practicing on the flight simulators. Unfortunately for me, this meant I had to deal with the terrible twosome on my own. To my relief, their dog was violently ill at home and they dropped him at the door...but, not before reminding me about how we missed the math meeting and how they felt it was in Ian's best interest to at least do something, so they held their own math night and wrote a note to his teacher all about it. I was floored but I thanked them and wished them well with their dog, quickly procuring the boy inside. He's not actually my son, so I'd let Adam deal with it. Adam was furious as I read the note to him over the phone, giggling at the spelling of the word "excercizes".
I simply do not understand some people's lack of judgment and extreme inclination to interfere. I realize the child is not mine by blood but he does live under my roof and I care for him a great deal. Now, we have to decide how to tactfully handle this matter without causing a huge amount of drama. Thankfully, next week is Thanksgiving and Adam's only has one more Thursday night class after that, so we will no longer have the need for Thursday help, however, convincing a family member of that is most likely going to be received as an ungrateful slap in the face.
Anyone know where I can get some crime scene tape?
Friday, November 14, 2008
Clone Wars
As Adam and I were taking our sweet time to get ready for work this morning, as typical Fridays go, we didn't have time to stop for our usual coffee before I dropped him at his business complex. However, since no one was ever in my office suite on Fridays, I delivered Adam to his destination and meandered over to the Starbucks near my office. It was relatively slow, as it was just past ten, and I ordered my tall non-fat chai and a slice of iced carrot cake (Yes I realize they contradict one another) and ran through my agenda for the day as I paid for my late breakfast. A male voice interrupted my train of thought, and as I looked up from securely nestling my wallet back into my purse, I am fairly sure my reaction was something of the startling variety. A freakishly identical replica of my fiance grinned back at me and asked if I needed to be rung up. Shaking my head in disbelief and appropriately negating his question, I came back to reality in time to continue his joking line of questioning about paying twice and the current economic state. I'm sure he thought I was interested in more than just coffee and declining gas prices as I assessed his resemblance. Same meager frame, average height and facial structure. Same red hair fashioned into the exact style, light beard and even the same dark, rectangular glasses. He was even sporting an identical shirt to Adam's favorite black button down with shoulder flaps that he had picked up in the U.K. this past spring. As we continued our conversation, I realized that the only noticeable difference was the blue eyes that darted animatedly about the room and his equally expressive voice that contrasted harshly with Adam's deeper, somewhat monotone one. I concluded that he was either gay or from California yet still felt a twinge guilty for being oddly attracted to him...but that's normal, right?
Monday, November 10, 2008
In With the New...
Moving always provides the chance for a fresh start. By the time you have unpacked three suitcases and have been living out of them for the past two weeks, you wonder why exactly you need the rest of the four boxes that are still in the garage and begin to assess what is really necessary to hold onto.
Such is the same for ridding yourself of old memories affixed to the heart of past dwelling places. The beauty of relocating is that you no longer have to run by that patch of concrete that housed the etched names of you and your ex-lover, or stare at that corner of the pool where you and your supposed soulmate laid your feelings on the line over a jug of cheap chablis.
As I wrapped up the last of the dishes and sanitized every inch of space, the romantic scenes vanished one by one with the help of a little clorox clean up and some paper towels, which were immediately trashed and left behind.
My new house comes equipped with a vintage history of sorts, but it is for me to fill in the historic blanks. It's a strange transition at times, especially when you keep reaching for the toilet paper dispenser in the wrong location or dumping spaghettios leftovers down the drain that is lacking a disposal, but like every new relationship, you have to get used to to the quirks that make it unique. All I know is that the original hardwoods creak from age, and as I enter each empty room, a blank canvas just waits to be littered with renovations and future memories.
Such is the same for ridding yourself of old memories affixed to the heart of past dwelling places. The beauty of relocating is that you no longer have to run by that patch of concrete that housed the etched names of you and your ex-lover, or stare at that corner of the pool where you and your supposed soulmate laid your feelings on the line over a jug of cheap chablis.
As I wrapped up the last of the dishes and sanitized every inch of space, the romantic scenes vanished one by one with the help of a little clorox clean up and some paper towels, which were immediately trashed and left behind.
My new house comes equipped with a vintage history of sorts, but it is for me to fill in the historic blanks. It's a strange transition at times, especially when you keep reaching for the toilet paper dispenser in the wrong location or dumping spaghettios leftovers down the drain that is lacking a disposal, but like every new relationship, you have to get used to to the quirks that make it unique. All I know is that the original hardwoods creak from age, and as I enter each empty room, a blank canvas just waits to be littered with renovations and future memories.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
How the Cookie Crumbles
11:00 a.m. I'm insatiably hungry today and I'm waiting for my friend Jen to call so we can go to lunch. I had fruit for breakfast and it didn't fill me up in the slightest.
11:27 a.m. Jen calls to inform me she forgot to tell me she didn't make it in town from Austin today so we weren't going to grab lunch after all. This is fine, as it allocates more time for me to run errands for Adam's birthday (today).
11:56 a.m. After confirming that the Home Depot has the gas grill I want in stock, I jump in my little red hatchback and it starts to rain.
12: 04 p.m. It is raining harder as I park at Home Depot and race through the lot, the humidity already making me look like a drowned rat.
12:06 p.m. I spot the grill of choice and flag down a gruff female sales associate who fails to understand that I would like to take the grill home with me immediately and would appreciate it if she could retrieve one in a box so I can fit it in my tiny car. She begrudgingly retreats to the back. Fifteen minutes later, she returns, telling me she can only find another pre-assembled one but it is missing a knob. She again tries to coerce me into buying the floor model but I distastefully point out the rust to her. She sighs and tells me to check another store, at which point I suggest that she call one for me. Instead, she searches the handy dandy Home Depot inventory computer, which tells me a store five miles away has eight in stock. I ask if she can call and confirm and she yells to several employees to obtain the number but all are dumbfounded and unwilling to look it up. I tell them to never mind and proceed to the next store.
12:41 p.m. I arrive at store #2 and I am approached by yet another older woman, though this one seems more helpful. She immediately begins checking shelves for my grill and during this time, another associate asks if she needs help and they both peruse the store. Unfortunately, after ten minutes of thorough hunting, they can only find one in a rather damaged box that they'd rather not sell to me. Their floor model, however, is in impeccable shape and I suggest we take the sides off so I can fit it in my car. They do not seem very willing to do so and offer to continue looking if I can find a larger vehicle and come back. I can go back to work and grab the church van, no problem.
1:13 p.m. Famished and frustrated, I pop into Jimmy John's for a to go sandwich and cookie that I can eat back at the office. After paying, I ask for a water and they hand me a tiny Styrofoam coffee cup. With furrowed brow, I ask if I could please have a to go cup with a lid. They tell me it will be an additional 25 cents. Ridiculous. I tell them to forget it, leave the stupid coffee cup on the counter and head out the door.
1:21 p.m. Fed up but not fed, I unwrap my cookie from the cellophane and take a few bites. As I turn the corner onto my office's street, the cookie crumbs fly into my eye, causing near blindness and nearly sending me reeling into the car in the next lane. At this point, I deem my bad luck of the day as a sign that I should not drive the church van and decide that the thought of me attempting to unload a fully assembled grill from three feet up in a van, down into my new garage will most likely result in fatality or serious injury to either myself or the grill, so I surrender the idea of doing this myself and resort to having Adam come with me to pick up his present after work.
I just wanted to surprise him with his gift, but the only gift I brought back with me today was one in a lovely red box from Aunt Flo. I want to go back to bed.
11:27 a.m. Jen calls to inform me she forgot to tell me she didn't make it in town from Austin today so we weren't going to grab lunch after all. This is fine, as it allocates more time for me to run errands for Adam's birthday (today).
11:56 a.m. After confirming that the Home Depot has the gas grill I want in stock, I jump in my little red hatchback and it starts to rain.
12: 04 p.m. It is raining harder as I park at Home Depot and race through the lot, the humidity already making me look like a drowned rat.
12:06 p.m. I spot the grill of choice and flag down a gruff female sales associate who fails to understand that I would like to take the grill home with me immediately and would appreciate it if she could retrieve one in a box so I can fit it in my tiny car. She begrudgingly retreats to the back. Fifteen minutes later, she returns, telling me she can only find another pre-assembled one but it is missing a knob. She again tries to coerce me into buying the floor model but I distastefully point out the rust to her. She sighs and tells me to check another store, at which point I suggest that she call one for me. Instead, she searches the handy dandy Home Depot inventory computer, which tells me a store five miles away has eight in stock. I ask if she can call and confirm and she yells to several employees to obtain the number but all are dumbfounded and unwilling to look it up. I tell them to never mind and proceed to the next store.
12:41 p.m. I arrive at store #2 and I am approached by yet another older woman, though this one seems more helpful. She immediately begins checking shelves for my grill and during this time, another associate asks if she needs help and they both peruse the store. Unfortunately, after ten minutes of thorough hunting, they can only find one in a rather damaged box that they'd rather not sell to me. Their floor model, however, is in impeccable shape and I suggest we take the sides off so I can fit it in my car. They do not seem very willing to do so and offer to continue looking if I can find a larger vehicle and come back. I can go back to work and grab the church van, no problem.
1:13 p.m. Famished and frustrated, I pop into Jimmy John's for a to go sandwich and cookie that I can eat back at the office. After paying, I ask for a water and they hand me a tiny Styrofoam coffee cup. With furrowed brow, I ask if I could please have a to go cup with a lid. They tell me it will be an additional 25 cents. Ridiculous. I tell them to forget it, leave the stupid coffee cup on the counter and head out the door.
1:21 p.m. Fed up but not fed, I unwrap my cookie from the cellophane and take a few bites. As I turn the corner onto my office's street, the cookie crumbs fly into my eye, causing near blindness and nearly sending me reeling into the car in the next lane. At this point, I deem my bad luck of the day as a sign that I should not drive the church van and decide that the thought of me attempting to unload a fully assembled grill from three feet up in a van, down into my new garage will most likely result in fatality or serious injury to either myself or the grill, so I surrender the idea of doing this myself and resort to having Adam come with me to pick up his present after work.
I just wanted to surprise him with his gift, but the only gift I brought back with me today was one in a lovely red box from Aunt Flo. I want to go back to bed.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Lightbulbs
I can't sleep lately. My head is a flutter with trillions of ideas, but then again, when isn't it? Now, if I had a dollar for every idea I've ever had...well...ok maybe a hundred dollars would produce a better profit. I just wish I could bring some of them into fruition. Ideas take planning and planning takes time and time is money and...if I had lots of that, well, the ideas would take off on their own.
Some of them are brilliant money-making ventures littered with creativity and gumption that I vow will one day be the catalyst for my footprints resignating all over this little life. Yet others are the thoughts that keep me up at night such as how do I put this wedding into motion with little start-up cash for deposits? or which kitchen table will look best in my yet to be redone future kitchen? I can't help it. I'm excited about the house. Besides, late-night imaginary room rearranging beats obsessing over quandries involving self-absorbed, gossiping, show stealing individuals whose careless thoughts and actions seem to hunt me down me no matter how hard I try to shake them...but we won't go into that.
I am ecstatic about moving. The first six weeks or so will be grueling, with trying to manage three people's schedules on one tiny little econo car, but once the semester finishes, it should be smooth sailing. Life is going to be very different and I'm glad that we can share in similar goals and lifestyles with our friends/neighbors across the street. There are few others who can possibly relate to the responsible adjustments of parenthood and home ownership. As much as I'll miss having my former freedoms, I really don't mind not losing sleep or racking up bar tabs in the middle of the week. Enjoying wine in my living room is just fine with me.
Some of them are brilliant money-making ventures littered with creativity and gumption that I vow will one day be the catalyst for my footprints resignating all over this little life. Yet others are the thoughts that keep me up at night such as how do I put this wedding into motion with little start-up cash for deposits? or which kitchen table will look best in my yet to be redone future kitchen? I can't help it. I'm excited about the house. Besides, late-night imaginary room rearranging beats obsessing over quandries involving self-absorbed, gossiping, show stealing individuals whose careless thoughts and actions seem to hunt me down me no matter how hard I try to shake them...but we won't go into that.
I am ecstatic about moving. The first six weeks or so will be grueling, with trying to manage three people's schedules on one tiny little econo car, but once the semester finishes, it should be smooth sailing. Life is going to be very different and I'm glad that we can share in similar goals and lifestyles with our friends/neighbors across the street. There are few others who can possibly relate to the responsible adjustments of parenthood and home ownership. As much as I'll miss having my former freedoms, I really don't mind not losing sleep or racking up bar tabs in the middle of the week. Enjoying wine in my living room is just fine with me.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Larry David
Have you ever just had one of those moments in which you screwed something up so badly that it feels as though you are the star of a tv sitcom like Curb Your Enthusiasm or something?
Well, I just experienced one of those and I am currently banging my head on my desk and I feel absolutely awful.
A friend of Adam's family (Adam's late mother's best friend), connected me with a friend of hers who owns this bed and breakfast with a labyrinth for us to use for our wedding ceremony. Said friend forwarded me the B&B owner's e-mail and I messaged her, inquiring if she had any photos or a website so I could see the property.
Two weeks later (today), she finally responded, but said she was confused by what I thought were rather clear requests and told me to just drive down to see the property. Now, mind you, this place is four hours away, I don't have this woman's website or business address or phone number, so after waiting two weeks, and after the same sort of thing from most every venue I've contacted, I was a bit frustrated...so I did the kind of thing most girls would do: I forwarded the e-mail to my fiance, with an exasperated comment, " I love when people take two weeks to respond to an e-mail and then don't answer a single question you directed at them..."
But you see, the problem was, I was multi-tasking and about to head out the door, so in my haste, instead of hitting forward, I must have hit reply, because when I returned to my office, I had an e-mail that said, " I love it when people do not take into consideration what other people might have going on in their lives. The property is no longer available for your use. I will let (your friend) know your response."
......................................
I was mortified. How exactly does one rectify such a horrifying faux pas?
Well, I would phone or visit in person if I had the number and it wasn't so far away, so I did the next best thing and sent another e-mail, apologizing profusely and attempting to explain my most grevious error. Adam also sent a very nice character reference/apology letter and called the family friend. At this point, I didn't even care if we had to find a different property. I just felt awful for insulting this woman not to mention that someone would actually think I'd write such a response. Plus, I was worried about offending the family friend as well.
I feel this big.
Addendum:
I just heard from Adam. The family friend is not mad at all and it turns out that the property was further from our reception venue than she realized (one hour) so we won't need this lovely lady's assistance after all. Phew. I still feel bad though.
I'm sure we'll get a good laugh out of this someday but man...I am pond scum.
Well, I just experienced one of those and I am currently banging my head on my desk and I feel absolutely awful.
A friend of Adam's family (Adam's late mother's best friend), connected me with a friend of hers who owns this bed and breakfast with a labyrinth for us to use for our wedding ceremony. Said friend forwarded me the B&B owner's e-mail and I messaged her, inquiring if she had any photos or a website so I could see the property.
Two weeks later (today), she finally responded, but said she was confused by what I thought were rather clear requests and told me to just drive down to see the property. Now, mind you, this place is four hours away, I don't have this woman's website or business address or phone number, so after waiting two weeks, and after the same sort of thing from most every venue I've contacted, I was a bit frustrated...so I did the kind of thing most girls would do: I forwarded the e-mail to my fiance, with an exasperated comment, " I love when people take two weeks to respond to an e-mail and then don't answer a single question you directed at them..."
But you see, the problem was, I was multi-tasking and about to head out the door, so in my haste, instead of hitting forward, I must have hit reply, because when I returned to my office, I had an e-mail that said, " I love it when people do not take into consideration what other people might have going on in their lives. The property is no longer available for your use. I will let (your friend) know your response."
......................................
I was mortified. How exactly does one rectify such a horrifying faux pas?
Well, I would phone or visit in person if I had the number and it wasn't so far away, so I did the next best thing and sent another e-mail, apologizing profusely and attempting to explain my most grevious error. Adam also sent a very nice character reference/apology letter and called the family friend. At this point, I didn't even care if we had to find a different property. I just felt awful for insulting this woman not to mention that someone would actually think I'd write such a response. Plus, I was worried about offending the family friend as well.
I feel this big.
Addendum:
I just heard from Adam. The family friend is not mad at all and it turns out that the property was further from our reception venue than she realized (one hour) so we won't need this lovely lady's assistance after all. Phew. I still feel bad though.
I'm sure we'll get a good laugh out of this someday but man...I am pond scum.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Interlude Explanation
Wow. I haven't blogged in ages on here. I suppose I've been attempting to spare everyone of the whirwind of thoughts that go through my head and save the writing for something truly unique and thought provoking. Perhaps I should pick this up again though, as Nanowrimo returns in November and I need to exercise my linguistics in order to complete my novel once and for all.
However, I did manage to create a blog about the trials and tribulations of wedding planning that is available here:
http://www.mywedding.com/tammyandadam/blog.html
However, I did manage to create a blog about the trials and tribulations of wedding planning that is available here:
http://www.mywedding.com/tammyandadam/blog.html
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