Day in, day out. Every day is the same. Wake up, look out the window, see the snow, drink some coffee.
This weather is getting to everyone it seems. Even children are sick of being outside in it, tired of being home from school. Some of them will be going to school in the summer. Moms are running out of ideas to keep the kids entertained. Some of them are ready to pull their own hair out, stuck indoors with yelling kids and a house that never quite makes it to ‘clean’.
And then there is the majority of people. Men and women unable to get to work. Weather makes it impossible to get there. Weather makes it impossible to work in the elements. School closings make it impossible to find child care.
Weather plays such a huge part in our lives. There may be little money coming in, but the bills keep coming too, needing to be paid. We need heat. We need food. We need tuition, insurance, gas and cars. Luckily we can band together and get through this. But what of others?
With every report of foul weather, be it ice, snow, rain, or wind, my heart clenches for those out there who go paycheck to paycheck. Those who have no paycheck coming in. Those who have landlords, repo companies, debt collectors unwilling or unable to cut them some slack.
My days are all the same.
For some folks, their days will never be the same.
Very few things can bring the world together. A large portion of world is joined as they watch athletes compete in the Olympics or World Cup. Another large portion joins together when there is a horrific tragedy, such as tsunami or earthquake. Yet another gathers when a celebrity dies, such as Michael Jackson or Princess Diana.
Today, I joined the largest of all gatherings. I watched the announcement of our new Pope. Of course, Catholics watched. This is the leader of our religion-not simply a pastor, or bishop-but the leader of our religion world-wide. Others watched too. Some watched because it was on every major news outlet, twitter, facebook, etc and there was no escaping it. Many others watched out of curiosity. Very few elections are held in such secrecy. Very few occasions cause people to run from their homes in order to hear a name announced. Whatever the reason, BILLIONS watched from all over the globe.
I am Catholic. I am one of those who have become disillusioned by the politics, the scandal and cries of poverty that come seemingly every week. I still pray and try to be a good person. I consider my relationship with God to be personal, just between Him and me. But still have hope that someday, I can bring myself to enter a Church without cringing with hypocrisy.
As I watched the announcement of our new Pope, I was filled with hope. As I waited, I imagined him in the Room of Tears, crying with the crushing weight of the responsibility placed on his shoulders. I prayed for God to give him the strength to do what is right for us and power to explain his choices to us. I prayed for God to give him guidance as he steps down this new path of his life.
The announcement of Cardinal Jorge Bergoglio to the papacy has given me hope. Just by choosing to be called “Pope Francis” he is breaking with tradition. He is the first Jesuit, the first ‘Francis’, the first non-European. I am hoping he will be merciful in his dealings with gay issues, allow more participation by women, and wield a heavy hand on those involved in molestation.
This is a new chapter in Catholicism waiting to be written.
It’s quiet here. My dinner is in the crockpot, laundry is done, as well as paperwork. I’m just chilling and trying to decide what book I want to start.
There are a couple of things going on around here that I’m not at liberty to discuss that involve my kids. I just want to respect their privacy. Both are preparing to become Logan’s godparents and that is a good thing. Logan has learned to roll and he has quite a sense of humor. Babygirl is home for the week for Spring Break.
Sooooo……what else? Hmmm…..nothing else. I’ve always felt that no news is good news. If there was something wrong going on, I’d be bitching or crying about it, so there’s that, right?
Boredom has butted it’s big head where it isn’t wanted.
The house is clean. I have nose prints on my front window and dog ‘eye boogers’ on the inside of the drapes where the boys push them aside to look outside. I could wash them but it is a bigger job than I care to under take at 5pm on a Saturday. I have things that need dusting in the den, but again, its a big job.
Son2 and his girl have gone off to the Union game. It’s a beautiful evening and they will be tailgating and enjoying the excitement that comes with any sporting event.
Babygirl has left for work. She won’t be here until my bedtime. Sometimes she simply goes from work to her boyfriend’s house and I’ll see her in the morning.
Hubs is content to watch tv for hours on end, only to break things up by snacking, smoking or taking the dogs out front to play while he smokes.
Me? This is it. I’m not in the mood to read. No one seems to be hanging out online. My friends are busy running their kids to softball, birthday parties, or doing their own chores and hanging with their own families.
Days like these make me crazy. I have walked on the treadmill, cleaned the house and done laundry. The dogs don’t want to go outside with me. I called my mom but she has company and can’t stay on the phone.
What do people do when they hit this wall? If I drove, I might do some window shopping myself. But still, I’ve never been one to enjoy shopping even when I do have money to spend.
My mind even goes blank when I try to think of anything.
For the first time in my thirty years of marriage, I have new bedroom furniture. When we got married, we bought a new bed, but the bureau was Hub’s while he grew up. From friends and family, we got bits and pieces here and there through the years. We always figured that there was a need for the money elsewhere, and as long as our clothes were put away, it was all good.
There was a local furniture store going out of business and I watched as the prices got slashed for clearance. All I wanted was a chair for the living room. Hubs has been asking for a recliner for years and since we had some “found” money, I suggested we go there and see if there was anything worth buying left on the showroom floor.
We strolled around the store and were surprised to see so many full living room sets. But upstairs held the treasures that I wanted to see…..bedroom sets and recliners!
We checked everything out and were stunned to see that full bedroom sets were far cheaper than we had anticipated. Before I knew it, Hubs had abandoned the search for a chair and was instead looking at the sets. One by one was ruled out until finally, we had decided between two. The saleslady came to us with numbers and we asked for the best she could do. After consulting with the manager (of course. They are like car salesmen with that ploy…) She came back with a “good” price but we offered her a thousand less. AND THEY ACCEPTED IT! With a bargain like that, we decided to buy a bigger mattress and box spring too!
And so, I got a new cherry wood bedroom set for Christmas.
I also have new drapes. They are the same deep shade of red as the pillow cases. I love them. It makes my room feel warm, which it really needed, considering that the walls were white. (I will be painting them beige after Christmas) Hubs and I were excited that the drapes made the room very dark and cave-like in the middle of the afternoon. This is important to Hubs, especially when he works on night jobs or emergency calls and then needs to make up his sleep during the day. It’s also important to me when I have a migraine and I try to lie in the dark.
There is a drawback that is really hard for me to deal with. It is so dark that my internal clock is out of whack. I have a very hard time waking up in the morning. It is far too easy for me to roll over and go back to sleep. Unless I have something important to do, I lie there and watch tv or play on the laptop.
Did you ever have one of those days? You know, the kind where you wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? The kind of day that is full of sunshine?
Did you ever have one of those days? The one where you step out of your bedroom and see that the house is still clean from the day before? Where the dishes are clean, the newspapers thrown out, and the laundry is all caught up?
Did you ever have one of those days that you shower, find something that you like (on the first try!) and find comfortable? The kind of day that you look into the mirror and decide that for a change, you don’t need makeup?
Did you ever have one of those days where you call the cable company to replace your remote control and they answer your call right away and they call you back when the call suddenly drops?
Did you ever have one of those days where your husband comes home from work and tells you that you’re wearing sexy clothes, when you are wearing stretch pants and a man-tailored white shirt? The kind of day that you make meatloaf for dinner and both the husband and the 24 year act like you have just served their favorite meal in the world?
I had one today.
I wish they came around more frequently. I wish I could bottle them up and pass them out to my friends.
I was just sitting here, bored, and wondering what I should post about. Well, I decided to give you all some little factoids from my former jobs…
I worked in a movie theater where roaches and mice were an every day occurence. (We shared a building with a bus terminal) Those roaches showed up even during the day and they had wings!! GAG! The mice weren’t shy either. Since bug spray, rat traps or glue traps never seemed to deter them, I kept oven cleaner behind the counter. They didn’t like that stuff. My can sat within reach…along with a baseball bat to break the fingers of the asses who would try to reach over the counter when it got busy. I used the oven cleaner and the bat too many times to count. True story.
I worked in a little film developing place (Like a Fotomat) This was located in a hallway within the above mentioned bus terminal. One wall was made completely of glass and since the trolleys discharged passengers at the head of the hallway, all those people would look into the windows every day. Some would stop to fix their hair or makeup in the one mirror that covered one of the pillars. They would adjust their boobs or balls as if no one could see them. I know exactly what a fish in a tank feels like. True story.
I worked in a deli where I had grown up buying candy. Since I knew the owner, after hours we’d stand in the parking lot shooting the breeze enjoying a soda for a bit. One night, while we discussed the progress of a new employee, he stood with his foot resting up on the bumper of his car. One of his fucking testicles dropped out of his shorts and just hung there. I tried so fucking hard to get out of that conversation so I could go home and bleach my poor eyes. True story.
I worked taking care of my friend Linda, who was paralyzed on one side of her body, putting her to bed and dressing her in the morning. On the very first night that I was on my own, I dropped her, wedging her between the wall, bed and wheelchair. At first I apologized profusely. But then I realized that the sounds she was making wasn’t crying at all. She was laughing her ass off at my panic. I tried getting her off of the floor but was not having much success. I yelled “You told me you weighed 150 pounds! You’re closer to 180!! Heifer!” At that, she laughed even harder and then so did I. When we calmed down, she revealed that her son was home, in his room in the basement and I could call him to pick her up. I don’t know what I would have done if any of it had happened differently. True story.
Sybil Law asked me about a recollection of one of my first dances. I was pummelled by more than one, and each was significant in some way or another. I have decided that she is going to get a ‘two-fer’ as a belated birthday gift.
Dances for me, began in the 8th grade. The first was actually a high school dance. A couple of my friends and I managed to get permission to go to the high school mixer at the boy’s high school. I remember wearing a rust colored corduroy skirt with a matching jacket. I had bought a pair of platform shoes and this was my first chance to wear them.
Oh the awkwardness! I was tall, thin and had big boobs. The fact that I was so thin, made the boobs seem that much bigger. I was tall and then I added another four inches with the shoes. My group of friends and I were in our spot and we occasionally danced. We felt out of our element. I remember how jealous I felt when Gigi was the first asked to dance by one of the boys. I honestly don’t remember anything else that I can put into words. It is a jumble of sensations…..the smell of a high school cafeteria, where we managed to sneak a smoke….the chill of the fall air…. trying not to sweat while I slow danced….and of course the last dance of the night to “Knights in White Satin”
The last of the 8th grade year was our graduation dance. Some girls were coupled up with some boys, but most of us were nervously anticipating our first contacts. There are only two things that I can think of. The first is that I really wasn’t looking forward to going. I cannot remember what happened that had made me not want to go, but my mother would not let me miss what was supposed to be a milestone. The other thing that I remembered was that one of my classmates, Bill, was wheeled into the dance. I say wheeled, because Bill had crashed his bike three weeks before and he was in a body cast. I remember the cheers that went up as he came in. Most of us had not seen him since the accident.
I can remember dancing with Gary, watching Kathy dance with Bill B, and I remember walking home with a gaggle of girls in the dark. So much for a ‘milestone’…..seriously, that is it.
What you must remember is that this was 1976. My memory isn’t what it used to be.
I woke up this morning and began the task of stripping the wallpaper from my bathroom walls. I made my way around the door frame and above the shower. Once I got enough paper to hold, it peeled right off, nice and clean. Above the sink, in the area that I have the biggest wall area, the glue is tight. I used a spray that Son1 used to do his bathroom. It worked…..but there is muscle needed. My alarm went off at 3:15. It was time to clean up stripped paper and chips of paint and glue.
It’s game time. Time to crack a beer and watch the pre-game show.
I am a soccer fan (football for you Europeans). Philadelphia has it’s first MLS team- the Philadelphia Union. Their “official” fans are the Sons of Ben. Son2 is a SOB. He left hours ago for the tailgating festivities. They will gather together at the designated spot just before gametime and march into the stadium as a group. At away games, they choose a bar to gather and they parade to the games. It is an awesome sight. They will have their own entrance in the new stadium that will open in two weeks. Their own entrance! That is how rabid these fans are. We have waited hella long for a team and we take it seriously.
I shoot the shit for a while with the Union Facebook group. We critique the lineup and debate defense strategies. And then the game starts.
I watch alone in my living room. I shout at shots on goal. I yell at the referees. There is almost a Union goal. I am screaming as Dallas FC scores.
I am happy about the return of our star player, Sebastien LeToux. He looks good after an injury. I marvel at the sight of the other players. They look so young. Some are mere children….really. Three are 18 and one is 17 years old. They are boys playing on team where the others are 20-30 years old. There is lots of comeraderie between the players of both teams. There is laughter between bouts of intense aggression.
The street is quiet, save for my yells. Hubby sleeps through it all. Two and then three near miss shots by LeToux. I can’t stand this. I can almost feel his frustration.
Half time. I take the time to shower.
I come back to start of the second half of both the game and my six pack.
The atmosphere is changed. The fans are more outspoken and loud in their rally cheers. The laughter is gone and the game has become more intense. The referee begins handing out yellow penalty cards to both teams. The playing has become vicious.
My own demeanor has changed. I am spending more time holding my breath or letting out sighs of desperation. The last four games were played on the road and we lost every one. This is a homecoming of sorts. The last home game was the last win. Instead of sipping my beer, I take long pulls on the bottle.
A kicked ball has flown into the seats….into the Sons of Ben. Is that….? Why, yes it is! There is the smiling face of Son2! How I wish I was there to cheer with him.
The clock ticks away and I have watched a game in which although the Union have given their all, they have lost.
In the last minute, the last second of play, my boys have scored. The game ends in a tie. The crowd goes wild. I jump to my feet and I’ve scared the shit out of the dog.
Now Hubs can return from the bedroom. He can watch his own television again.