Viva la Difference! March 21, 2010Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Fam Damily, Jews, Youth.
I’ve spent a lot of time over the past week reading the info so many nice people have provided me regarding adoption stories. I’ve loved every minute of it, not just because it gives me hope and some confidence with how to proceed, but also because I’m a voyeur who loves reading about other people’s lives.
One thing that stuck out was when someone talked about the home study foster and adoptive parents go through and how among the many questions asked is how *you* were raised. This has always been a fun compare-and-contrast topic in our house, mostly because of the GLARING differences.
First, the similarities –
We’re both the oldest of two siblings.
Except that’s not even totally true, because Brian’s dad actually had a son with his first wife, so Brian has an older half-brother. So scratch that one.
The differences –
Him: Strict, church-going, not allowed playtime on Saturdays until chores were done, unrealistic curfews (he regularly broke), very restricted TV watching (The Jeffersons were not allowed into their living room for obvious reasons), arbitrary rules, regulations, Bible-invoking spare the rod, spoil the child, child rearing. Which of course made him start to rebel at a fairly young age and years of troublesome problems commenced.
Me: Bedtimes were strictly enforced, as was nutritional intake – for a little while there in the mid-70’s, my mom went on a health kick where she stopped buying Kool-aid and replaced it with the abomination that is Juicy Juice – but other than that, things were pretty laid back. Well too, good grades were stressed – I was put on phone restriction once in 9th grade when I brought home a less-than-stellar report card (damn algebra) and I got my car taken away from me a month after I got it for skipping school my senior year. And Brian laughs – “You had a CAR. That they BOUGHT you. Rough life! Hahaha!” He’s still amazed by the fact our parents took us to see Eddie Murphy in concert. Hey, they thought he was funny in the early 80’s just like mostly everyone else. Well, excluding Brian’s parents.
We didn’t have a lot of money when I was growing up, but pretty much all the disposable income they did have, most of it went toward making me and my sister happy. I’d like to think we knew how lucky we were at the time, but come on. No kid really thinks that, do they? I was too busy comparing my JC Penny’s fake Polo shirts to the kids who wore their Calvins and Vanderbilts and United Colors of Benetton every day. Especially Melody Dixon, who not only had all the right clothes but accessorized them with a large yellow gold jewelry collection and her full 1-karat diamond studs.
Don’t worry. I’m now clearly aware of what an asshole I was.
On the flip side, for as much trouble Brian got in (some of which ended up with having the law involved), I was a nerdy good kid whose biggest fear in life was the possibility of disappointing my parents. So apparently their guilt-administering skills must have been superior to those of his parents’. Score one for the Jews.
So if a social worker were to ask us to describe our childhoods, we’d be able to say that between us they were very, uh, DIVERSE. Which in my opinion is good, right? Our future kid acts up, and I’m sure we’d have some lively discussions on what the punishment would involve. I’d say something like no phone and TV for a week and Brian would make him/her re-roof the house while memorizing the New Testament.
Or some happy medium.
Boats, Buses and Golf Carts November 3, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Friends, Holidays, Jews, Vacation.
There were only a couple of things that prevented this trip from being 100% perfection. One, the Florida weather. It’s always a little warmer down there than it is here, but it really showed itself up this time by not getting the memo it was the END OF OCTOBER and not the BEGINNING OF AUGUST. Seriously, it reinforced the fact I am very happy I live someplace that has actual seasons instead of just Hot and Not as Hot. The other thing was Brian deciding to have his weeks-long cough turn into bronchitus-almost-pneumonia and texting me from the doctor’s office that they had him on a breathing machine since his blood wasn’t getting enough oxygen. That was a stressful half hour and I had to forcibly stop myself from getting in the car and driving back twelve hours after I’d arrived. But, he’s doing much better now after a few days of antibiotics and codeine-laced cough syrup (dude canNOT handle his narcotics, btw) and after that scare I went on to have a kickass vacation.
– Even though I hate Summer weather in late Fall, I must admit it was nice to be able to go riding around on Bob’s boat to watch the late afternoon big orange sun slowly drop down through the pink and purple sky over the lake while listening to beachy boat songs. It was one of those moments when life has the perfect soundtrack running and it hasn’t happened to me in awhile.
– Elizabeth had too many social obligations (being a high school cheerleader is a lot more demanding than one would think and I’m not being sarcastic since I now believe she has some real anxiety issues going on) but her cousin Becky, my other daughter-from-another-mother decided to join me for the weekend in Disney. She’s 17 and the fact she still deems me cool enough to hang out with means a lot to me. We stopped at Walmart to get her a costume and we lucked out. For twenty bucks she got to be a guitar for Halloween – I can’t adequately describe how cute she looked.
– To you non-Floridians Disney really isn’t in Orlando, it’s just easier to say that. It’s actually in Kissimmee or if you want to get even more technical, it’s its own little city (a.k.a. Lake Buena Vista) and if the company takes over any more property it will become obvious in its goal to take over the entire state. All this to say, I took the wrong way getting off the turnpike and we almost ended up in Daytona Beach, reinforcing Kim’s Law: If there is a choice between two ways to go, Kim will choose wrong Every Time. Always, no exceptions.
– I’m not sure if Disney pumps Prozac through the air along with the upbeat-but-subtle music, but it truly does live up to its nickname of the happiest place on Earth and that feeling has never changed for me despite having been there close to a hundred times. They might be evil corporate monsters plotting to take over the world, but I’m fine with that.
– Fort Wilderness is the campground there where we stay every time we go and has so much fun stuff to do, I don’t ever feel cheated when I don’t go into one of the parks, which was the case this trip.
– We did manage a short trip over to Downtown Disney however, an annual tradition where I immediately fall under the souvenier spell and feel an intense urge to buy myself and others many Disney-themed gifts. It’s a sickness, I tell you. I haven’t gotten to the point where my aunt is, where most of her casual wardrobe is now made up of Disney character clothing, jewelry and accessories, but I’m sure that’s coming eventually. Prozac air, I’m telling you.
– Cousin Scott and his family didn’t make it down from NY this year which was a bummer, but his younger brother cousin Matt is always a good stand-in and like always I had good fun hanging out with him. We spent the majority of the weekend riding around on tricked-out golf carts (if you’ve never been in a camoflauge colored golf cart that’s jacked up on ridiculous sized wheels and goes 24 mph you haven’t lived) and even when he accidentally crashed the cart into the back of a Disney bus due to looking sideways while driving forward (a serious but common affliction in my family), it only served to send Becky and I into hysterics and will forever be referenced in our collective Remember Whens.
– My niece might just be the cutest, most well-behaved 2-year-old on earth. Yes, obviously I’m biased, but Becky said the same thing. And yes, she’s biased too but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I love her so much I almost can’t stand it. She was Belle from Beauty and the Beast for Halloween and she has unknowingly but single-handedly made me re-commit to uploading my pictures to Flickr. Not today but before the end of the week for reals.
– The kids loaded UP on candy. My cousin Lori summed it up perfectly when she said, “It’s trick-or-treating in the nicest, cleanest, safest neighborhood in the world.” Plus, again – golf carts. Where were they when we used to trick-or-treat, huh? I spent most of my time jumping on and off the back of the cart to take pictures of all the decorated camp sites and offer Becky moral support while she got loaded down with sweets. After inspecting all the kids’ hauls, I was amazed to see there was not a no-name brand in the whole bunch, but Nestles, Hersheys and Wonkas all the way. Nice.
– Sister booked us into one of the Disney resort hotels – All Star Sports/Movies/Music – something like that, but our building was the 101 Dalmations one and it was so freaking cool. Besides the fact it was about ten minutes from the campsite and the first night we headed over there Sister got lost and it took us an hour and a half (the unhelpful hotel front desk person when we called for directions: “Have a magical evening!”), it worked out really well for us convenience-wise and respite-from-family-wise. I love my family but even moreso when I don’t have to sleep in the same space as them. Their loudness transcends sleep and it’s just no good for my sanity levels.
– Awesome fireworks show set to a Halloween story and music on the shores of the Disney lake. Could’ve done without the flying insect I accidentally inhaled and swallowed, but walking barefoot through the sand at night and seeing a chillbump-inducing light show was totally worth it.
– Even with the whole Daylight Savings ending (I highly recommend planning a vacation that ends on this beautiful extra hour day) I ended up tacking an extra 20 hours or so onto the end of my vacation and didn’t leave to come home until yesterday morning at 10:00. This put me back home exactly eight hours later (would’ve been 7 1/2 but my car automatically veered off the exit where the Gap outlet store in Georgia and I was forced to spend a half hour in there to pick up a couple of tees and sweaters that sated my constant Gap jones). I probably should’ve figured on just taking yesterday off from the get-go, but it’s actually more fun when it’s a last-minute decision, like that one extra night feels like a gift. And we made the most of it back at Grace’s house, what with Elizabeth’s hair dyeing adventure, baking brownies, taking another couple of trips around town to various stores and ending the evening with me finally watching Twilight for the first time. Verdict: Uh…didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would? That’s about all I can say about that.
– Me and the girls also stopped by the cemetery and visited my dad and Elizabeth’s grandparents, all of whom are coincidentally located very close to each other. It was just getting dark and it was really peaceful. At the same time, we all kissed our hands and touched my dad’s stone, one of those moments. And did the same to her grandparents and I was sorry I hadn’t thought to buy flowers first but didn’t realize I’d be stopping there until I did. So it happened that I visited my dad, but skipped seeing my mom again. Oops.
– As much fun as it all was, it was also so good to get back to the man, dog, seasonably correct weather and a fire in the fireplace that was happily crackling for me when I walked in the door. I doubt I’ll ever be able to come to terms with loving living here but missing the hell out of my favorite people in the world who are all 400-ish miles away. I guess as long as we all keep making the visits happen, it’ll all work out.
October is over for another year. Holy shit.
We got SERVED September 12, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Experience, Home Life, Jews, Whatever.
This doesn’t have anything to do with what I’m writing about today, but anyway. As I was putting on some powder and eyeliner this morning to come to an empty office where I knew I’d see no one, it occured to me. I wear more make-up nowadays than I ever have before. (The 80’s don’t count.) Though I’ve never been and I doubt (hope) I’ll never be one of those women who refuse to leave the house without her “face on,” I will admit to feeling a little better when I do make even a small effort with my appearance. Forty. What a weird age. Fleeting thoughts of Botox and Collagen may or may not have even crossed my mind recently. And thoughts like, “Well at least I’ve never been really beautiful so I won’t ever have to deal with the trauma of losing my looks.”
Okay, the real post starts now:
Most Friday nights we eat take-out for dinner, but last night was one of those rare occasions Brian asked if I wanted to go out to eat, as in both of us walking into the restaurant, sitting down at a table and eating, so of course I responded enthusiastically. It’s far from his favorite thing to do but he knows I enjoy it, so I know he was trying to improve the shitty day he knew I was having (I think in the future I’m going to spend every September 11th in bed, drooling and sedated). I chose a restaurant close to home, one of those mid-priced places that no matter if you’re in the mood for beef, chicken, pasta, seafood or cheese-based appetizers they fit the bill. Like Applebee’s-level price and quality, in other words.
A little background about me and servers. I waitressed one Summer in upstate New York in a diner where the clientele consisted mostly of elderly Jews who were Very Particular about their food. (“I vant a vaffle, not too overdone, whole veat toast vit REAL BUTTAH, none of that Oleo crap, and a hot cup of cawffee vit REAL MILK, not any of that Half & Half crap…”) The gig was for only three months, but in that short period of time I gained a huge appreciation of what waitpeople have to deal with and it’s stuck with me. I almost always over-tip, unless the experience has been just ridiculous. I’m always pleasant to them and if I absolutely must complain about something I do it in an apologetic tone of voice, in the nicest way possible (I also look at this as anti-spittle insurance which is probably unrealistic but it helps me sleep at night). I literally cringe when I’m out to eat with someone who is rude to the waitperson; it’s one of my biggest pet peeves. I’ve written an entire post about one of my good friends and how embarrassing it is to go out to eat with her because of how mean she is to them. With that in mind…
Our waitress last night. A perky little thing, she brought our menus and got our drink orders right away. So far, so good. Brought out our Pepsi’s (no Coke products here), got ready to take our orders and her pen ran out of ink. And that’s when the trouble started.
Her: Darn! My pen just ran out of ink!
Me (laughing good-naturedly): That’s weird; I had the same thing happen to me today.
Her: Oh, really? Are you a waitress too?
Me: No, I work at the college.
Her: OMIGOD, I work there part-time TOO! While also taking eighteen hours of credits, AND working here on the weekends. I’m pulling a double shift tomorrow, but that’s okay because I’m still maintaining a 3.5 grade point average, and hey, that’s pretty good, right? It’s not like I’m getting any help from the parental units (Editor’s note: yes, she really called them that), so SOMEBODY’S got to pay for the education, right? These days you HAVE to be an overachiever! I feel like that school is my home away from home, I spend so much time there – but I love it! Where’s your office; I’ll have to visit you sometime!
Brian: (Smiling at me with an evil glint in his eye, trying not laugh out loud)
And from there it only got worse, because as much as I dislike that much small talk with a stranger, having that person continue to talk that much while I’m eating and have a mouthful of food I enjoy even less. After awhile every time she came over (and they were many), we stopped making eye-contact with her and only answered her question in one-syllable words. She wasn’t just like that with us though, oh no. We could hear her talking to other tables just as enthusiastically all over the restaurant.
Riding home, of course I was performing a comedy routine, based on the character of Perky Waitress, and Brian was laughing because I can be funny sometimes but then said, “Well, it’s better that way than having a rude person.” Which is very true and I agreed I’d much rather have Chatty Cathy any day over Sullen Susie. But come on! There’s something called a happy medium, you know? There’s a reason for the name of that saying too – it’s Medium! And it’s Happy!
Ack. Either way it was a fun evening. Tonight we’re going to watch the Cocks get slaughtered by the Bulldogs (ew, that brought a very ugly mental image) over at the Rednecks’ house (and he’s from Georgia, so that should be fun-opposite all around). Mrs. Redneck is out of town however, so I am going along for the sole purpose of driving my husband home afterwards because of course many beers will be consumed. I’m bringing this great book I’m in the middle of reading (This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper) and I plan to stay as far away from the noise as possible.
Ah, Fall – I do love you so.
Don’t You Forget About Me August 25, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Home Life, Jews, Movies, Weather, Whatever, Work.
Apparently evil forces are conspiring to prevent me from my usual internet habits. Between the home computer finally farting out its final queef Friday night (during Brian’s weekly poker tourney, no less) and work pickign up in that brisk and annoying way it does every Fall, I feel like I’m completely out of the cyber loop. And I don’t like it, not one little bitch (typo, but it stays). In fact, I should really be working right now, but dammit enough’s enough already.
Hmm, so now that I’m here I can’t think of what I wanted to say. Typical. So much, yet nothing really important. Counting the days ’til the good weather arrives, of course. Funny how it’s right about now where every year I feel like I can’t deal with the heat anymore and right as I reach my breaking point, we get that first little hint of cool, dry mornings and nights. I was cleaning the closet room (again) the other night and I discovered a notebook where I’d written last year “September 15 – First day of wearing long sleeves.” Yes, I am that much of a dork. But like I told Heather, I appreciate myself when I do stupid shit like that. Because now either I can look forward to wearing long sleeves three weeks from today, or I can be disappointed that the day isn’t as cool as it was last year but either way know it won’t be too much longer now. Little things like that keep me enthusiastic about being alive.
What else. Oh yeah – for the first time in ages, and I mean ages, I got hit on yesterday! Well, that sounds rude and in reality it wasn’t that way at all. Our building’s roof is caving in (it’s qualified as “historic” which actually means “we don’t have funds to either tear it down or rennovate it so let’s keep putting duct tape on it”) so there have been maintenance guys here almost every day. There’s one in particular who I usually say hi to or end up making small talk with – no flirting, I swear, and yesterday he asked if I remembered to bring my lunch (I had forgotten it the other day). I said “No, I forgot it again,” and he then asked if I wanted to go get something to eat. I am so out of practice because I didn’t see that one coming a mile away. I kind of laughed and said, “Well, the husband probably wouldn’t be too happy about that!” and he looked down at my ring hand and blushed fourteen shades of red. He said “I did NOT notice your ring!” and I believe him, because no one can fake blushing like that. When I told Brian (of course I did!) he said, “The poor guy had probably debated doing it all weekend, only to get shot down.” I hadn’t thought of that. But, a little awkward, a little ego boost, no harm, no foul. Like Grace said, it’s a shame he’s the roof guy instead of the computer guy, considering my problem at home. Those days are long past and times like these I really miss them. At least I’ll know who to flirt with should our roof at home become problematic.
We saw Inglourious Basterds over the weekend. Not as bad as my friend Stephanie thought it was, but definitely not Pulp Fiction or Kill Bill level. As a Jew, I did enjoy the revenge fantasy aspect of it and Brad still makes me laugh, but way too long and a little indulgent. A good way to kill a hot afternoon though.
Finally talked to Mother. Nothing new to report there.
Been trying to speak with a co-worker who used to work in adoptions, but both of our schedules have prevented that from happening. Barring putting an ad on Craigslist (“Wanted: Baby, sex unimportant, between the ages of 0 and 4 weeks, to a good home.”), adoption is really the only avenue I see that’s left. And the more time passes, the more I’m okay with that. I came across an empty pill bottle that used to contain some of those evil hormones the other day and stood there in shock, thinking about how I spent the first six months of this year. It’s already taken on the quality of something I might have dreamed instead of something that actually happened and that alone amazes me. The first of the eight pregnant people I know gave birth last week and it barely registered with me. I don’t know what that means.
To end on an upbeat note, I’ll leave you with a joke:
A baby seal walks into a club…
Familial Angst August 5, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Jews, Life, Vacation.
I feel like I should be wearing all black and listening to Fall Out Boy while writing this post. Thanks to the movies, we now know it’s possible to be a 40-year-old virgin, but what about a 40-year-old Emo?
There are more times than I care to admit where I know certain situations would be far less problematic if my dad was still alive. It’s absolutely futile to think that way, but it’s true. He was not only the greatest dad who ever lived, but also the loving glue that held both sides of my family together. Even though my inlaws are about as different from my parents as they could be, he had the charm and personality to make any social situation with them not so awkward and even enjoyable.
I decided not to see my mom while I was in Florida. I’d wrestled with it so much beforehand and even after arriving down there I was still completely undecided. Then I spent two days with family and even though it was a lot of fun, I was ready for some time with some of my chosen family, Grace & Elizabeth. Yes, I spent three nights about five miles away from my mom’s house and even passed right by it a couple of times. This sucks to admit and also that NEVER would’ve happened when my dad was here.
So now comes the aftermathy consequences and the best part is I have absolutely no one to blame and/or deal with it but myself. Wicked awesome.
I was talking to my cousin last night (who is dealing with major issues right now as well, issues that have me worried and talking with her on a daily basis) and she told me something very upsetting. Her dad, my uncle, asked her if I’d been to see my mom while I was down and she told him no. He started in with the “I can’t believe she did that, blah blah, etc. blah.” Lori cut him off right then and completely supported me, telling him he had no right to judge my actions (if you read this, thank you again LJ) and it effectively shut him up. But then he told her he spoke to one of my OTHER uncles who just so happens to be my MOM’S BROTHER and TOLD HIM I’D BEEN TO SEE THEM BUT NOT MY MOM.
Sorry for all the caps but AFTER THIS I MAY NEVER WRITE IN LOWERCASE AGAIN.
Was it not bad enough I met someone for the first time at a small cook-out who when finding out who I was immediately said to me, “I know your mom – Louisa, right?! I see her at the golf course all the time!” Because there is no town on Earth smaller and more incestuous than where I’m from. No, that wasn’t enough – perish the thought! It had to be someone in my own family who’d betray my trust like that and stick his nose in where it totally didn’t belong. After I drove 480 miles to see him while he was in the hospital.
But, whatever. What’s done is done and now I just have to figure out how I’m going to deal with it. I have a few ideas already:
1. Be completely honest about it. Which could get a little bit awk, since that would mean saying to my mom, “Mom? Yeah, I did go down there for a few days. I really feel bad about not seeing you while I was there, but I seriously didn’t think I could handle you right now. Still love ya lots though!”
2. Lie my ass off.
3. Accuse my uncle of lying his ass off, something he is actually famous throughout our entire family for doing.
4. Take my customary non-confrontational, chickenshit route and ignore it until I feel it’s safe to start communicating again, which would probably be months from now. You know, the Tori/Candy Spelling route.
I have no idea what to do. All I know is when I went to lunch with my sister-in-law yesterday and she was telling me all the unnecessary and annoying shit her dad was putting her through with regard to her upcoming wedding (it is GEORGE we’re talking about after all so no big shocker there), all I could think about was my dad and my wedding and how I rented Father of the Bride to watch with him a few weeks before it and he cried and how thankful I now am for the pictures of him walking me down the aisle and dancing and giving Brian’s dad a golf lesson in the middle of the reception and how even though I never took his greatness for granted I still, STILL feel sorry for myself and cheated because he was taken too soon.
Death, disease and exercise June 2, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Health, Jews.
First you have to try to imagine the sound of my Jewy aunt’s astounding Brooklyn accent: picture a cross between Fran Drescher, the sound your teeth would make if you scraped them along a sidewalk, and a dentist drill. With lots of cuss words. The first time Brian heard her speak he actually got startled, and he’s not one to scare easily. If I ever want to induce an anxiety attack, all I have to do is picture introducing her to Brian’s mother. The two of them would need an interpreter.
So she calls me today to give me an update on my uncle’s current health situation, (In brief: Not Good) but as always the conversation quickly turned to the subject of her. Apparently her job isn’t going so well right now (she’s the bookkeeper for a fairly large landscape company) and in her words, she “Seriously fucked up. Twice.” However, she is trying to look on the bright side, which for her means she feels bad but lucky her recent mistake has now been overshadowed. It seems that yesterday one of their employees was struck and killed by a Budweiser truck while driving a lawn mower.
Don’t believe me?
And you know, most untimely deaths are tragic, they really are. But damn. For this lady’s family to have to tell people how she died? That is just adding insult to injury right there. Lawn mower injury. And it’s not like my aunt was giddy for this poor woman’s misfortune you understand, she was just really grateful for the timing of it.
After I got off the phone with her I immediately called Brian and told him to warn the guys on his crew to look out for stray beer trucks, because good Lord; you just never know.
On a serious note (well, technically that was serious too, but come on), my uncle has been diagnosed with cancer – they found it on one of his kidneys a few weeks ago and more recently on his bladder. He’s having surgery in late July so I’m definitely going to try to make it to Florida before then. This, coming right on the heels of Brian’s brother being diagnosed with prostate cancer? That disease can eat a bag of dicks as far as I’m concerned; I hate it. Someone needs to go ahead and find the cure already; I mean, how many more 5k’s do we have to walk/run before this happens? God? Because I don’t know anyone, ANYONE, who hasn’t been directly or indirectly affected by the piece of shit.
Okay, enough cheerfulness from me for one day. We are so busy with outside-of-work work, that we’re fighting complete exhaustion every day. But, with extra work comes extra money, so there might even soon come a day when that asshole we call a truck is actually completely fixed and running like a champ. Imagine that. I barely can.
On the exercise front, I’m sucking, but I am managing to get on the stepper three to four times a week, which I suppose is better than nothing. What is completely retarded is that I have access to not one, but two gyms here on campus, gyms I could use FOR FREE. What’s stopping me, you ask? Besides being a lazy whore? Well, it’s stupid. Imagine you’re me; kinda pale, at the high end of my weight and old. Now imagine walking into a university’s gym, one that is full of tan, twiggy college girls. I mean, would they even allow someone like me to enter much less use the same machines and weights? I don’t know, but I’m completely horrified by the idea. Probably should try and work on that.
And a Good Friday to you too April 10, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Experience, Fam Damily, Holidays, Jews.
I’m disappointed to report that last night went really well and I had a great time. The service was good, the food was good and there’s nothing to make fun of. I hate when that happens. While his parents did indeed tell everyone they introduced me to that I’m Jewish, it wasn’t awkward or embarrassing, but made me feel something like pride about my family and my roots. My dad would’ve been really excited to hear all about it. And when the lady sitting next to me said at the end of the night, I feel so lucky to have met you and that I got to sit next to someone who knew so much about this, I may have even gotten a little teary. Hmph.
Of course she did also ask the Number One Most Popular Question I will forever and always get asked: Do you all have any children? I don’t know why I still get suprised when this happens, but either way his parents and I shared a little private laugh and I told her, Not yet but we’re working on it with a lot of dedication right now.
I learned a couple of interesting things too (remember that I am a religious retard so any discoveries I make is most likely stuff everybody else already knows): that Jesus’ Last Supper was also a Passover seder and that he died at 3:00 p.m. the next day (Good Friday). I knew the day; I didn’t know the time. I like knowing things like that. I also like that while I used to think Brian’s and my religions were polar opposites, I now know that isn’t true and it’s nice they go together so seemlessly. Things may have been trickier if he was a Muslim and I was a Jew – I could see the potential for some awkwardness there.
There are still a lot of things I’m not sure about with what my stance is regarding religion. Many, many questions and a few issues. But in the meantime, I enjoy the occasional trip to church with his parents and also the actual church itself. Which is a good thing, because we’ll be back there again on Sunday. Twice in one week – God, are You seeing this? I promise I’m not trying to butter you up for any Big Thing I may be asking of You lately; it just so happens the two holidays fell really close together this year!
Other than church activities, I don’t have much planned for the weekend. We’re still in a financial quandry thanks to that piece of shit we call a truck, so that tends to put some limitations on entertainment choices. It’s okay though; I’m about to make myself presentable enough to go to the library, where there are many free books sitting there waiting for me to pick them up. And as I’ve said before, as long as I have a good book, I will never be bored.
Of course there’s plenty of house and yard work to be done as well, but let’s not get crazy.
Oy – tonight we’ll knosh until we plotz April 9, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baptists, Experience, Foodies, Holidays, Jews.
Yiddish words are so much fun.
Well the day is finally here – tonight is the church Passover dinner, which is sure to bring the laughs. I guess it’s sort of a big deal to me as well, as I feel we’ve come a long way from when I felt like the black sheepess of the family, with their oldest son living in sin with a Jew and all. From when the first time I ever visited his mom and George’s house and noticed a book titled “How to Lead Your Jewish Friends to the Messiah,” displayed surreptitiously on their coffee table. Back then there was a lot of tentativeness from them, with conversations like this:
Iris: I’m sorry if you can’t eat this Kim (“Kee-yim,”) but I put bacon in the potato salad
Me: That’s okay; I’m not a practicing Jew and I love pork.
Iris: Well, I made a ham too; is that okay?
George: What tribe in Israel does your family descend from?
Me: I didn’t know they had tribes in Israel, so I have no idea. Leviticus?
(Brian later confirmed there are indeed tribes that Jews come from and what’s sad about that is he has a lot more knowledge of Judiasm than I do, thus he makes me look bad.)
I’m sure there’s potential for some awkwardness tonight as well however, as George has little to none in the social filters department. I can picture him introducing me to people repeatedly and gleefully telling them I’m Jewish. In fact I know he will. Sort of different but also similar, a few weeks ago they had their next door neighbor over for Sunday “dinner.” (I will never say that without quotation marks). When he introduced us, George told the guy I used to live in upstate New York. This guy is from Michigan. From what I can tell, Michigan is a long way from New York so I wasn’t quite sure how to respond and neither was the neighbor. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, except maybe we’re both Yankees in George’s mind and so there was potential for bonding? Also please note I lived in New York the first five years of my life and then lived and grew up in Florida. I guess he saves that part for when he introduces me to anyone from anywhere in the south. But I’m already prepared for the weirdness tonight, so no problem. I do wish I had this shirt to wear tonight though:
Not that any of the Baptists would get it. Catholics would, because like Jews they are very wise in the ways of the guilt. I always say the only difference is Jews are born with it and Catholics have to go to school to learn it – ZING! I crack myself up.
We’ll probably join them at church on Sunday as well to celebrate Easter. I gots to have all my bases covered, yanno? Plus I’ve always loved Easter. Which side are you on as far as Cadbury vs. Reese eggs? For me it’s Reese’s all the way. (I’m sure Heather will pick Cadbury because she likes being ornery that way with me, hee hee!)What the F is up with that yellow shit in the middle of the Cadbury? I know it’s supposed to be yolk, but EWWWW. And if the white stuff is marshmellow, well then I hate marshmellow so there you go. Sister developed a little problem with Peeps a few years back and I’m not sure if she’s yet to be able to be in the same room with them again without gagging, but again no marshmellow for me. I will roast them and hand them to you all day long but I refuse to put a black charred sticky sugar blob in my mouth hole ever. They are acceptable in Rice Krispie treats and that is all.
And for now, that IS all.
Insert witty title here March 31, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Baby-Making, Baptists, Fam Damily, Foodies, Jews, Whatever.
Coming soon! (Or a week from Thursday) The Baptists attempt to do a Passover sedar! Oh, if only you knew how much I am looking forward to this, but I guess now you do. So far all I know is this: they gave certain Jewish recipes to certain Baptist peoples from the church (including Iris, who’s gonna rustle up some potato kugel action, which is sort of the Jew version of hash brown casserole) and they think just because it’s Jew food, they’re supposed to call it “kosher.” I let Iris know this was dead wrong the other day, because what kosher really means is food that was prepared in a kosher kitchen, which means the dairy stuff is separate from the meat stuff – two different refrigerators, for real – and also that the ingredients have been blessed by a rabbi before they are packaged up.
I don’t think she appreciated my input, but whatever. Shit’s not kosher! Haha, that was funny. To me. But the potential for comedy is going to be endless at this shindig and I love comedy. Especially the unintentional kind. Brian was like, Is baked chicken Jewish, because I didn’t think so. No, not exclusively, but it is a very safe choice when you’re talking in terms of a bunch of weird food most people will be leery of. At least they’ll have baked chicken (which I will skip) (unless they totally screw up the Jew food).
Whenever I go to the doctor now, as I’m getting ready to get half naked the nurse tells me as she’s leaving the room: “I’ll be right back; you know the drill.” Yes I do, especially as it pertains to the fact I’m about to get drilled in the privates yet again. I can’t think of an appropriate and/or funny enough way to tie this weak pun together and I’m afraid the opportunity will pass before I think of one. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated. Well, but anyway this morning. Doctor’s office. I was pretty excited about the fact I’ve been tanning and while I’m not yet close to being tan, my legs are no longer translucent/glow in the dark. Also, I’d given myself a professional-level pedicure the other night, so I’m thinking those things, along with my usual groom ‘n shave routine – this nurse is in for a visual treat today! Finally! What I didn’t take into account when I left the house in sandals and capris was the fact of it being fifty degrees outside. Sucked. Goosebump city. Not to mention, as I was hoisting my bidness up to the edge of the couch thing and into the stirrups again, I remembered my still-prickly bright pink sunburnt ass. I hoped it would not be visible to her. Too late now.
The verdict: This time instead of two follicles the drugs produced four. So along with Ollie and Lolly, we now also have Molly and Polly. You know it. Does this bode better for my chances this time? Say like, if two follicles produced zero babies, four might produce one? I don’t know, nor am I going to do any mad Googling this time to support or discount my hopes and wishes. That way madness lies and I’m not in the mood to be a crazy right now. All I know is, four follicles, still somewhat small, a few more days of shots and then Second Try. Either way, Brian is now a certified pro at giving me shots in my (almost tan!) fat roll, so that’s a plus.
Later today I have the choice of going with him to visit his cousin, cousin’s girlfriend and their baby all of whom are up from Florida. This is a dilemma. I like the cousin a lot, but the girlfriend nearly drove me over the edge the first and last time I met her. I wrote about it. She’s the one who stared at my wedding ring for a minute then asked, “How big is your ring?” (Shari, remember when that crazy girlfriend of Forest pretty much said the same thing to you then asked you if she could try your ring on? Awkward.) I’m almost tempted to go buy a ridiculous big fake ring and seriously blow her mind. The one who after being here for a day decided that this place is full of nothing but rednecks and idiots, unlike Fort Myers, Florida where she lives – and if you knew Fort Myers, Florida like I do, you would realize the absurdity of that statement.
From the way she talked and acted, she’s one of those people who are constantly keeping score on who has what, etc. and now that she has the one thing I want more than anything (a baby, just in case you’re still paying attention), I don’t know if I can bring myself to act pleasant around her like I barely did last time. Petty and foolish? You betcha. Catty even! Would I have a totally different attitude if I was pregnant right now? Well but of course I would! I’m just trying to keep it real, yo. I can be honest with you, right? I’m not always the pure and innocent lovely girl you think I am and this girl brings out the nasties in me. So I should probably skip the visit today is what I’m thinking. Brian thinks I’m being silly. Perhaps. He’s probably a little pissed too, considering I just told him I wasn’t sure if I would feel like going visiting later, though I didn’t elaborate as to why. Oh well!
Uhhhh, I think that’s all for now.
Runnin’ down a dream March 11, 2009Posted by Kimmothy in Fam Damily, Foodies, Friends, Jews, Travel, Vacation, Whatever.
I would haaaate to be a bodily function system in my body right now. No ciggies for almost three weeks. A scant amount of caffeine. No sedatives. My weight in Now & Laters (I don’t eat the cherry ones though). I’m actually really surprised I haven’t suffered headaches, toxic shock or simply folding up into the fetal position while my body takes leave and says I quit this bitch. I wouldn’t blame it if it did.
I also gave up something else – American Idol. They got rid of the only people I liked, like they so often do, so good-bye for another year Paula, Randy and Simon. I’m relieved to have my life back for another year. Of course I’ve replaced that with a late-devloping obsession with 24, but at least that show is cool. I love Jack Bauer. I wish I was Jack Bauer.
I started back with Twilight the other day, out of sheer annoyance, and the fact I didn’t feel like starting another new book with this one being left unfinished. I’m almost done with it, soon to start the second one. Kristen, you were right – it got a lot better right after they were in the meadow. I’m very encouraged by the fact there are actually some bad vampires coming around. And I’m pretty psyched to be honest, that my reading it again coincides with the movie coming out on dvd March 21st. I didn’t even plan that.
What’s even funnier is the fact that our friend Princess of Darkness bought the entire series of books from Amazon, which I happen to know cost her around $45 (I know because I just looked it up) because she knew nothing about the books being for young adults or being romantic in any way – she just heard the word vampire and figured she needed to have it. Every time I read a mushy part, which is every third paragraph, I picture her reading it and cursing the day Stephanie Meyer was born. It makes my reading way more enjoyable. I guess she can afford such things, as she’s moved back in with Drunky the Asshole Boyfriend. It was only a matter of time and we all knew this. Poor Princess; she’ll never learn.
I used to have a ton of birthdays to celebrate this week: Jen’s is today, Delorme’s is Friday and Jody’s is the 15th. Lucky for me, I only now have to worry about Delorme’s – hey, it’s a rough economy out there. I did send Jen a good card though. I’m looking forward to celebrating his this Friday, the lucky 13th. I won’t be drinking, but I will be picture-taking. Greek night. I’m frightened.
My Florida trip has finally been finalized; what a relief. I cleared it with work which was the main thing stressing me and my aunt Jew-guilted me into spending the night with my cousin instead of with Annette. She was sort of right though – I wouldn’t have gotten to see my family otherwise and as wacko as they are, they are still mine. Just the thought of being with my baby niece again is giving me the heaves. And I should be hitting Orlando around this time, two weeks from today, yahoo! Oh. If anyone from here wants some fruit and/or vegetables, let me know. I’m passing by that crazy produce stand Kristen and I stopped at a year ago, the one where we bought a flat of strawberries that were the size of apples. Sadly, I’m only stopping there on my way back up here, because it just happens to be on that side of the road right before I get on I-10. Kristen, put your order in when you get a chance and don’t worry about the damn money. I’ll be excited too to visit Avatel. I’m shocked it’s already been a year since Lisa passed. Unbelievable.
So the next week or so should be good. They might end up being REALLY good, but you know – it’s still too bastardly soon to tell.