Long Time No See December 2, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Friends, Life.
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If you want to blow your own mind (sounds dirty, wasn’t meant to), randomly run into the daughter of one of your old best friends at an event that is in no way connected to that part of your life and learn that she’s now the age you were when you met and became friends with her mother.
Brian had a work function banquet last night which held nothing but low expectations for me and then all of a sudden it was like I fell into that squiggly corkscrew graphic that depicts time travel in cheesy Twilight Zone episodes. Weirdly, Brian won a corkscrew in the raffle giveaway, which is useful only for this story since even if we did drink wine it wouldn’t be the kind that required a corkscrew. I won a pair of diamond earrings, but that’s not even the crazy thing.
After catching up with my friend’s daughter, and there was a lot of that to do, I learned that her mother, my friend of twenty years, tried to commit suicide about a month ago. I’d call it maybe an accidental overdose, but drinking a bottle of liquid Oxycodone (is that even a thing? I guess it is) and ingesting about two hundred pills probably can’t be considered an accident. It was really upsetting (obviously), especially because the last I’d heard, my friend was doing better, working various programs, seemingly overcoming her demons. Addiction is a motherfucker, in that you can be going along fine, living your life, thinking you’re on top of it all and then boom.
In my last therapy session, my doctor reminded me addiction is a disease that’s classified as Acute, Chronic, Relapsing (ARC, which is kind of a fun acronym if you put some thought into it), and one that never wants to let you go, like a psycho stalker lover. Thanks for that, Doc, really super great news. So you’re saying no matter how much time passes, how hard I work to be healthy, happy, and a functioning member of society, my brain is still warped and vulnerable to this hell. Here’s your $100, C U Next Tuesday.
Was it fate last night, bumping into her in the most unlikely of places? She really wants her mother and I to reconnect. I’m nervous, but I also want to see her, as she was someone who was a big part of my life for a lot of years. She also gave me my first Xanax (we were Christmas shopping and in fifteen minutes I went from wanting to stab people to wanting to give everyone a hug) and we spent many a time together washing pills down with Zima (it was the 90′s; give me a break), acting out our own redneck version of Valley of the Dolls. That wasn’t what our entire friendship was about, but looking back it was a big part of it. It still unnerves me when I think of all the friends I’ve had who have struggled with one form of addiction or another, some of whom are still knee-deep in the hell of it.
This is the time of year when I always (like many people do; I know I’m not a special snowflake) get reflective and nostalgic and long for days gone by. Well, the past ran up to me last night and gave me a big hug. And while it was all a little overwhelming, it made me feel like maybe it’s time to revisit some of it. Anything’s possible.
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Here is what the commenter (Lisa) had to say:
Skinnygossip isn’t a pro ana site, it’s a pro skinny site. The owner of SkinnyGossip doesn’t encourage mental illness and there is a support group for girls who suffered from eating disorders on the Skinnygossip forums.
Summer Vacations Should be Mandatory June 28, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Uncategorized.
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At the auto mechanic shop yesterday, I parted with $480 on a new condenser for me lorry. Apparently it’s an important part that prevents the transmission from exploding - who knew? I didn’t, but I sure do now. It could’ve been much worse (as in the above-referenced blowing of the transmission), but it did sort of fuck my plans for going to Florida in the next couple of weeks. I’m not yet sure if the trip is just in the postponement category or in actual ruins, but wow. I had plans to go at Christmas and dental problems cancelled that. Then the VERY DAY I put in for my vacation days at work, I took the car in for an oil change and they found this problem and my $25 bill escalated really fast. I feel like evil forces are keeping me from my family and friends and GET BEHIND THEE SATAN. \m/ (Devil horns, just because)
I got into my first Twitter fight! Weirdly it was about our in-state college football rivalry, which is definitely something I’m aware of, but not even necessarily that interested in, or knowledgable about, besides the fact that it exists. Someone else jumped in and defended my argument though, so I consider I won the fight. I think next I’ll see if I can get a celebrity to Tweet me (Charlie Sheen seems like an easy mark) and then all my Twitter bucket list would be complete.
I’ve been reading my archives a little and it’s amazing how much I talked about wanting a baby. If amazing = depressing. Anyway, we recently had one of those Discussions about it and although my ideal would still be something in the baby/toddler range, we also talked about older kids. We spent a Sunday over at his parents’ a few weeks ago and there was a boy there, about twelve, who simply just has a shitty life and George is the kind of person to actively take part in a mentoring program. We weren’t even aware of it, but they’ve hung out together a few times now, fishing, kayaking, etc.
He was shy with us for only a very brief time (kids have always liked me, I think because not only do I not talk to them in condescending ways (Brian’s Mom – ugh), but even though I’m technically an adult and have been for quite some time, I just have a very kid-friendly way about me.
Of course he loved going swimming with Brian too, and I could tell Brian really enjoyed it…especially when we had the Discussion on the way home. An older kid…maybe it could be like the people who adopt the older dogs that nobody else wants? I can picture that. And now that Brian is fully agreeable to the adoption idea (that took long enough), a small spark of hope exists in me still. Could be stupid, but I don’t care. Hope is never a bad thing.
New Ways to Chill June 25, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Home Life.
Over the weekend, we acquired a new-to-us, free refrigerator from Brian’s boss, whose wife was threatening mild violence if he didn’t get rid of it immediately. My mild enthusiasm over it was but a pale imitation of Brian’s unbridled glee. He got up early Saturday morning, showered immediately (usually there’s a good hour of deck sitting with coffee and internet before anyone makes a move to get clean on the weekends) and excitedly took off to go get the thing. On his way home, he picked up beer and earthworms, two of three things he proclaimed now have their own special place – do I really need to reveal the third one? It’s deer meat, obviously, because this appliance was appointed the man-cave redneck fridge before it ever set foot in the basement. Of course this is the cue for the main refrigerator to go out, because now I’m certain that’ll be coming soon to a kitchen near me. I’m not bitter, just very experienced in these things.
I teased him throughout the weekend, but I remembered I felt the same way a couple years back when I got us our first down comforter, along with some new high thread count sheets. All of a sudden our bedding transformed into a lush, giant pillow-cloud that would definitely be Oprah-approved.*
I’m really dumb sometimes. One of the most exciting things about where we live now is the lake. My oft talked about Lake Murray, at one time the biggest man-made lake in the country? The world? Something like that – it’s a big lake. For quite a few years now, many people have used it for their boating, fishing, and any number of water-based fun-time needs. This lake is literally in my back yard, yet it took about eight months for me to go in. Oh, the excuses were convincing - things like not wanting to deal with a bathing suit, being nervous about the water itself (which isn’t strange for some, but considering I grew up in Florida and spent most of my childhood in various bodies of water, very weird for me) and the various things that could be swimming around nearby but unseen…whatever. I have no idea.
Either way, all that silliness came to an end yesterday morning. It was around 10:30 and already ridiculously hot and humid. Brian was fishing, but he’d already been in the water a few times to cool down. He kept saying I was crazy not to go in and finally I agreed and without ceremony plopped off the dock. As soon as my head resurfaced I said, What the F is wrong with me, and went on to spend a fantastic hour happily swimming around (in t-shirt and shorts because the bathing suit dilemma has yet to be resolved).
I mean, here I’ve been sweating my ass off (but unfortunately not my gut, no; never the gut) walking every night through the humidity and gnats and stupid grilling meat smells like I’ve done the last few summers but now there’s a lake and for the past few months I could’ve been doing this. Oh and burning twice the calories (because of course I looked it up) in a much more refreshing and enjoyable manner. See above where I said I’m dumb sometimes. But I forgive myself, because I have big plans after work this afternoon to go home and again take the short walk down to the lake and off the dock. Today and probably many days to follow. I guess it could’ve been worse – I could be writing this in early September, having missed an entire summer of swimming. Thankfully I’m not that dumb.
*I actually don’t give two shits what Oprah approves of, but I wholeheartedly agree with her opinion that having good linens improves quality of life.
In My Defense I’m Sure My Blood Sugar Was Really Low June 21, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Uncategorized.
There was a meeting at work today that involved me, another admin (who happens to also be the first new friend I’ve made in way too long a time and man, that’s sad but also really nice), the new head of the committee member and Liz, the Dean of Everything That Involves Money. I normally hate committees (and meetings), but I enjoy this one, being that it involves hiring new faculty and I’m a total HR nerd. Anyway, we were discussing the annual hiring convention they attend in Washington, DC every Fall and the fact it was such a pain in the ass last year to get the committee members to make their travel arrangements. I mean, you KNOW you’re going to this thing, in fact you’ve KNOWN for MANY MONTHS, yet a couple of them prefer to wait until the last possible moment to finalize plans and book their flights, which meant their plane tickets cost roughly triple of what the more responsible parties’ did. Hey, the law school is footing the bill, so no sweat off your asses, right.
Anyway, blah blah, money, people, blah – all of a sudden Liz says, “I mean, not to sound like an anal bean counter or something,” and immediately her face reflected that did NOT come out sounding like it did in my head, but she pushed on and kept talking.
I very briefly caught my friend’s eye and then I had to look away.
I’m 43 years old. I pay bills and vote and consider myself a productive member of society, and while sitting in one of the most prestigious rooms on the university’s campus, all I could dwell on for the rest of the meeting was how badly I wanted to say, I’ve definitely heard of anal BEADS, but what is this anal bean you speak of? And do they really need to be counted?
And with that, my long spell of not blogging is broken.
Pure Farce April 16, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Uncategorized.
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You’re getting along fairly well, both physically and mental health-wise. You’ve been dealing with horrendous dental issues that have plagued you on and off since the morning of Christmas Eve when, while innocently brushing your teeth, you felt an unholy bitch of a pain which subsequently led to an extraction, three root canals, and a series of under-the-gum scrapings. Okay, that hasn’t been the best. But otherwise, you’re back to watching what you eat, exercising fairly regularly and feeling pretty good most of the time.
Spring comes early after a mild winter and as you sit on the deck drinking coffee in the mornings, talking and laughing until the sun sets later and later in the evenings, you feel calm and peaceful, especially for you. The view from the deck has a narcotic effect; you’re still sometimes surprised it’s yours even after six months.
Man’s phone rings around 9pm last night. You hear him say, “Wow, man – that’s great; congratulations.” You don’t wait for him to get off the phone: “Who’s pregnant?” He writes an initial with his finger in the air.
She of the infamous Mr. & Mrs. Redneck, the ones who have provided humorous fodder for me, both written and anecdotally, because if you don’t laugh at a situation like theirs it’s too depressing to contemplate. The last status report from the state of their union came a couple months ago when he proudly stated he didn’t give a damn what she thought or said about it; he’s not leaving until the kids they have now are grown and gone. I guess that means he just bought himself another eighteen years, give or take. Maybe he’s smarter than I’ve given him credit for, what with a sperminating insurance policy like that.
It doesn’t affect my life in the least. Everything is still as good as it was before 9:00 last night. It’s just a little disappointing how much it still fucking stings.
Currently March 29, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Uncategorized.
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My poor neglected blog.
Things are good though. In a few weeks I’ll have been working at the law school for a year…that’s ONE YEAR. Insert cliche about time flying here, because man that shit is crazy. The good thing is, besides your typical generic office drama, I still love it as much as the first day I arrived. Of course I say that now, right before the onslaught of end-of-semester activities fully hit. But then a lot of students and faculty go away and leave us in relative peace, so it’s cool.
Normally around now I’d be bemoaning the fact of the mild winter, seriously warm spring and the upcoming dreaded summer, but that’s not going to happen this year. Living on the lake is a game-changer with regard to my hatred of the hot months. Now that the day light lasts well into the night, we spend the majority of our time outside on the deck or the dock and it’s amazing. True, there will come a day not long from now when the humidity comes back and I want to punch myself in the sweaty face, but I plan to deal with that by taking a long walk off my short dock.
Since Christmas I’ve dealt on and off with serious dental issues that have been both a pain in the mouth and the wallet, but I’m very much hoping the bulk of it is done with. Thanks Mom and Dad for your gift of jacked up grilles. The most upsetting part about it is that it’s prevented me from going anywhere and there are some places I need to be going, asap. Florida, New York…I need a serious dose of my people. It’s made me feel weird, a little isolated and depressed, so here’s hoping once it does slow down at work I’ll be able to make that happen.
Basically, despite the occasional hiccup, life is good. L’chaim!
In Brief January 24, 2012Posted by Kimmothy in Home Life, Marriage.
Friday night, after Brian intuitively taped an entire season of a show he had a strong feeling I’d like, we got into an actual argument over who in the household introduced The Walking Dead into the Favorite Show category. After giving him full credit for Breaking Bad, I tried to remind him of the circumstances surrounding the beginning of the zombie show. Just to egg me on (I think), he laughingly disagreed. I got so pissed, I heaved a gigantic, exaggerated sigh, grabbed my lemon water (I’ve heard it boosts metabolism; so far I can’t tell) and went up to read in bed. There’s that moment you know you’ve over-reacted but pride prevents you from conceding you’ve been an idiot and moving past it. By the time he came to bed, I was more than over it and we “made up,” by which I mean we totally did it. Which actually didn’t surprise me in the least since I was wearing my sexy micro-fleece Grinch pajama pants (inside out, no less). After relaying the story to a friend the next day she said, “I’d say your marriage is in pretty good shape if those are the kinds of things you argue about.” I hadn’t thought of that, but she had a point. Good to know.
A Turkey Tale November 23, 2011Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Holidays.
How did it get from the first football game to Turkey Eve already? That was a quick minute; damn.
I feel like I’ve been so lucky this past year, I honestly can’t think of any thing I want right now. ”Thing,” of course being defined as material item; I’m always going to wish for more time with family and friends, more time to travel, more time to read…so maybe if I can find a good Black Friday deal on a time hoarding machine, I’ll spring for that.
A private jet would work well too, but I hear they’re starting to tax private jet owners a lot so that won’t work for me.
But instead of getting sappy/nostalgic (there’s still a lot of holiday time left for that), I’ll share a Mother-in-law story, because mine is always good fodder for a giggle.
Cooking and Iris go together like [insert cliche'd metaphor here]. She’s always prided herself on it, but when she retired a few years back it became even more front and center in her identity. That’s not news; it’s that way with a lot of women, but around holiday time, she not only goes all out, she goes all out of her damn mind.
In August, friends of theirs asked them to join them on a five-day cruise. Knowing they wouldn’t be getting home until the day before Thanksgiving, she was a little hesitant, but it was months away, she’d never been on a cruise before and she figured she could handle most of the food ahead of time. She asked me at that time if I thought it would be too much trouble for me to go over there and take the turkey out to defrost the Saturday prior to the holiday.
No problem. In fact, I was eager to help with something, because the only contribution from me she wanted for the holiday meal is Brown ‘n Serve rolls, the kind that come in aluminum foil trays that you remove from plastic bags and warm in the oven for a few minutes. Because apparently that’s where she believes my cooking skills begin and end. She happened to ask me that in front of my sister a few weeks ago and Sister was all, “Oooh, burn.”
Yeah, I know.
The day before they left for the cruise, I got the phone call I was fully expecting.
“Hey, Key-im, are you still going to be able to take the turkey out on Saturday? Because if there’s a problem, let me know and I’ll figure something out. We can’t have Thanksgiving without a turkey!”
Me: “Yes, no problem; I’ll be heading over there tomorrow.”
Her: “Do you still have your key to the house? Because I can leave a spare key somewhere if you don’t, or give you the garage door code, or, or…”
Me: “Got the key right here on my keychain; no problem.”
Her: “Well, I was thinking about just taking it out tomorrow morning before we leave, but I’m worried that might be too early…”
Me: “Nope; wouldn’t want to take a chance on that.” (Thinking: No way in hell would she deviate from the timeline that was established in her head since August.)
Her: “I just don’t want to chance it. But only if you’re sure you can make it over!” (Laughs nervously)
Me: “I’m sure.” (Sure that this isn’t the end of this conversation, not by a long shot)
Her: “Okay. Well make sure you take out the right turkey; it’s in the deep freezer and it’s the nineteen pound Butterball, because you know I only use Butterball for Thanksgiving.”
Me: “Got it.” (As opposed to accidentally taking out the small turkey breast or deli sandwich slices?)
I don’t have the energy to transcribe the entire forty-minute conversation that went down, but I have to included that she did call back ten minutes after we’d hung up to give me the garage door code “just in case,” and to remind me to make sure the refrigerator door was shut all the way, because sometimes that old fridge out in the garage, well, the door doesn’t always want to shut by itself.
I’ll skip the suspenseful part and just say I managed to get the job done.
Ch-ch-ch-changes October 24, 2011Posted by Kimmothy in Home Life.
I think the reason they include moving as one of the top five life stressors isn’t because it’s something that momentous (unless we’re talking about a really long-distance move, cross country or a different part of the world), but all the little things. The adjustments and changes in routine are suddenly a daily occurrence and it’s enough to throw you off kilter for a little while. And by “off kilter” I mean I’m lucky I’m managing to wear clean clothes to work every day.
We moved one county away, about forty miles from our old house. His mom actually uttered the words, “It’s like y’all are moving back to Florida!” and unfortunately I’d never have the balls to answer with something like, “When we lived in Florida we saw you once or twice a year as opposed to every week – would you like to go back to seeing what that’s like?” But I get it; we’re now almost double the distance away from them and it’s just long enough to have to put some thought into scheduling visits.
But honestly, that’s the least of my concerns right now. The following items aren’t exactly traumatic, but will definitely take some getting used to.
I went from a 15 – 20 minute commute to one that is forty, minimum. And that’s only if all the stars align to prevent accidents, anything but clear sunny weather, beating the school buses, and hoping a train doesn’t decide to stop and sit on the track for a leisurely twenty minutes, holding up miles of traffic on either side. All of these I’ve experienced in just the first week. As a bonus, the lovely late-Fall sun I otherwise love shines directly into my eyes both to and from work. I’ve gone without that for almost five years now; I guess the time had to come again eventually.
As rural as we now are, we’ll no longer enjoy the luxury of trash pick-up. Oh, surly trash men who liked to pick and choose what items they took arbitrarily, sometimes left lids open on rainy days and occasionally left garbage scattered in the yard, I’ll miss you so. This has already forced a big change in our trash tossing policies and procedures. With no garbage disposal either, any food waste is now being tied up in a plastic grocery bag, stuck in the fridge, and when a significant amount accumulates, I carry it along with me to work and dispose of it in a dumpster near my office. I’ve turned into a trash ninja. Luckily we have the redneck equivalent of an outdoor fireplace, the burn barrel, in which non-toxic but flammable things can go into, starting off with the roughly ten thousand boxes we’ve broken down the last few days.
Instead of City water, we’re now dealing with a well and sewage tank. Years ago when we would visit his dad, I have vivid memories of the showers’ crappy water pressure (if you have thick hair, the majority of your shower time becomes attempting to rinse all the shampoo out). I didn’t, however, remember the tap water smelling so farty. Yesterday at Lowe’s I learned there’s a very wide spectrum of price points for water purifying and I’m really hoping the fifty bucks I invested will be enough to help alleviate at least some of those issues, because ew.
As excited as I was to go from a 1950’s firetrap that had almost no working outlets and cloth-covered wiring (!) to a place where his dad put in outlets approximately every five feet, he must not have been a fan of overhead lighting. Because the house gets such great natural light during the day, I didn’t notice until nightfall how damn dark the place was; thank God K-mart was running a clearance sale on floor and table lamps (yeah, I classed the joint right up with some Big K décor) so I no longer feel like we’re watching TV and reading in a cave every night.
Then there’s the stair situation. I’ve wanted one for awhile, but I now have no reason to ever get a stair climbing machine. The house is split level and the stairs are everywhere and never ending. This was especially amusing during the move all the belongings into the place phase, but even now I spend most of my free time going up and down from the bottom floor where the TV is, to the top where the kitchen and bathrooms are. Granted, that’s part of what makes the place unique, but damn. I’ve already started making sure if I get up to do something I multi-purpose as much as possible. Half the time we’re all, “Where are you? Up here! Where are you? Down here!” but that’s not necessarily bad.
All of this is true, but it’s mostly just bitching in jest. I’m still pretty amazed every morning when I wake up and we’re there. The crappiest part of the move is finally, finally behind us (well, except for getting the old house fixed up) and now I get to finally do the fun stuff; i.e. pick out and rearrange where all our stuff will go, put the pictures on the wall, put the boxes with Brian’s stupid dude stuff into his man cave. Watch a bunch of HGTV.
In two weeks we’ll get our first house guests (Sister! Niece!) and two weeks after that we’ll have more (Grace! Elizabeth!). Soon what is now new and weird will be old hat and I’ll still be living in the house I love, so I’d have to say it’s all more than worth it.