The Check

Today is Payday. Yay! So at lunch, besides looking for the alligator, I will be going to the bank to deposit my paycheck, pay my mortgage, and ALSO and MOST IMPORTANTLY will be cashing the check I received from my health insurance company for an apparent overpayment I made on a prescription or doctor visit or something. I wonder if they’ll ask for ID? After all, it’s not every day you see a check THIS size!

(If you can’t see it, you can click on the image, then click on the little button that pops up to enlarge. I think. If THAT doesn’t work, get a magnifying glass.)

What the Heck IS That??

So today on the way to work I saw an alligator lying belly up on the side of the road. It was there yesterday, too, as I was leaving work. Actually, when I passed it yesterday, I kind of did a double-take, and wasn’t really sure it even WAS an alligator, but this morning it was still there. So I drove by kind of slow and verified that indeedy-do, it definitely was an alligator.

An 18” plastic alligator, mind you, but an alligator nonetheless.

But seeing that alligator made me wonder exactly how it wound up there. The road it was lying on is kind of a frontage road, if you will, between the main street and an apartment complex. At the end of the road is the office center where I work, as well as a hotel and a restaurant/bar. So it’s not really the kind of road people would be walking down. Besides, I don’t even think there are sidewalks. Which leads me to believe that this poor alligator was probably tossed from someone’s car window.

I can only imagine the circumstances leading up to this unfortunate event:

“BILLY! If you don’t stop teasing your sister, that alligator is going RIGHT OUT THE WINDOW!”

(Billy’s sister) “MOOOM! He touched me again!”

FLING!!! Out goes the alligator amid screams of despair.

Or maybe the kid was making the alligator “fly,” and lost his grip, hence sending the poor plastic beast plummeting to its demise.

Or MAYBE it was thrown out maliciously by a nasty sibling, and the parent had no time to stop and retrieve it.

Or MAYYYYBE a Weekend Dad didn’t realize his kid left Mr. Alligator in the passenger seat, and was driving home from the restaurant/bar with some drunk chick he picked up, hoping to get lucky, and the drunk chick freaked out upon seeing an alligator on the floor of the car, causing the Weekend Dad to almost CRASH as he tried to pick up the alligator (while still driving) and toss the offensive creature, thus saving his potential for a “good night” but ultimately ruining his status as “Super Dad.”

Whew. I like that last explanation best, but it sure was a long-winded one. Anyway, those are my theories. Maybe if it is still there later, I will rescue it and find a nice plastic alligator farm or something. Poor little guy.

Halloweentime!!

Although here in the Chicago area the temperature seems to be hovering in the 70’s and 80’s, it is still apparent by the store displays that Halloween is in the air. I keep forgetting this fact, probably because it is sooooo not Halloween weather, and I keep wondering why there are pumpkins in the produce section of the grocery store so early this year. Of course, it only takes a second for it to hit me - DUH! It's late September already! Anyway, I do enjoy Halloween, and I'll tell you why.

I enjoy Halloween because I get free candy and I don't even have to dress up. This is because I have a child. See, I just use the old, "Let mom make sure all your candy is safe" routine, then pick out the things I especially like. I figure eventually she will get old enough to realize that I have been scamming her out of the good stuff for, like, YEARS, but until that happens, hey - she'll live. Lord knows she always has more than enough to last her until the next Halloween anyway. I also enjoy Halloween because I like seeing what new and creative ideas the kids come up with for their costumes. And when I say "the kids" I SO do not mean my daughter. I actually was lying in bed last night trying to remember what her costumes have been for the first ten Halloweens of her life, and was alarmed at the discovery I made. When we were getting ready this morning, I asked her, "Is it possible that for the last five years in a row you have been either a rock star or one of the Pussycats?" (NOT "Pussycat DOLLS", mind you, "Pussycats" as in "Josie and the," which was really big to her around kindergarten and first grade.) She thought for all of two seconds and replied, "Yup. That's right. But this year I think I'll be a zombie."

THANK GOD!!! I never thought I would be so happy to hear that my daughter wanted to be a zombie. But I am, mostly because I am really sick of the whole Rock Star bit. I'm not really sure what her idea of a zombie costume is, but anything is better than a feather boa that sheds all over the place, high heeled wedge shoes that should be banned, and leopard print pants. Actually, all she would have to do is roll out of bed and go to school after staying up too late the night before - no makeup required. Cheap and easy.

Costumes were much more fun when I got to choose them for her. Because although I haven't dressed up since I took 3rd at Shooter's for my sadist outfit (oh, yes, those were the days!!), I do enjoy seeing other people in costume. (I had a friend back in the day who LOVED Halloween and used to dress up in these awesome scary-ass costumes, but since those were the days when we partied a lot, people tended to get a bit too freaked out so she eventually stopped.) My costume (if forced to wear one) is simply regular street clothes. If asked - I am an undercover cop. Then I show them my fake police badge and ask them not to blow my cover. But picking out costumes for your kid - fun Fun FUN!! Let's see, as an infant, Lexie was a black cat. Cute little black onesie with a hood with ears and a tail. At one, she was Bananas in Pajamas. (More on THAT on another blog - I think Bananas in Pajamas would make a great topic, don't you??) At two, she was going through her "Toy Story" phase, so she was "Joe," otherwise known as Woody (you'll have to ask my mom about the whole "Joe" thing). At three, the cutest little blonde witch you ever laid eyes on. Then at four, I started to lose control. She decided to be a Pink Power Ranger. And as previously mentioned, from ages five to nine: Rock Star.

I also love Halloween because we go to Fright Fest at Great America. Fright Fest is AWESOME. As long as it's not too cold, and it is lookin' pretty good for this year!! They turn the whole place into a "haunted park" and have weird people walking around and theme the rides, and also have a pretty good hypnotist act. Fright Fest is about as close as I will come to going to a real haunted house, because ever since I was about eleven I refused to go in them. Mind you, I was FORCED by my sadistic father to go in haunted houses as soon as I was tall enough to be allowed in, but by eleven I stood my ground and refused. And have refused ever since. I still have the mental scars from the chainsaw guy chasing me across the room. And MY personal theory is this: How do you know the people dressed up in these things aren't REAL killers? Seriously. Think about it. They could kill you FOR REAL, and everyone would think it was all part of the act. Sure, eventually they would be caught, but YOU'D still be DEAD. So what good would THAT do you? None. None at all. So I will no longer go into haunted houses unless they are the animatronic ones. But I still love Fright Fest. Those weird people don't freak me out that much. And I love the coasters. All of them.

Oh - I almost forgot - my FAVORITE thing about Halloween?? The fact that I live in condo and don't EVER get any trick or treaters. So for me, as long as Lexie will go out trick or treating - it really IS free candy. And nobody interrupts my tv shows.

Her Own Kris Rogowski

Lexie's Kris Rogowski

My daughter went out for a walk with her friend Kara last night (well, at like 6:00 – it wasn’t DARK out or anything) and came back 45 minutes later. I was on the phone with my aunt when she walked in, and she paused for a minute, looked at me, and announced, “I don’t want dinner tonight, I’m going to bed.” She turned toward her bedroom (but REALLLY slowly – you know, waiting for me to stop her) and I said, “Wait a minute! What do you mean, “I don’t want dinner?’” She turned back and replied, “I’m not hungry, I’m going to bed. I’m tired.”

Well, at this point, I told my aunt adios, because there was obviously a bit more to the story than Lexie was telling me. First of all, my daughter is always STARVING. Not just hungry, mind you, but STARVING. As if I never feed her. So for her to say she wants to skip dinner, well, that’s just absurd. Second, I have yet to meet a fifth grader who will voluntarily go to bed at 6:45. Tired or not. So I asked her what was wrong. I’ll give you three guesses what her answer was…

Give up? “Nothing.”

And then she flopped down on the couch with a sigh and picked up her Nintendo DS. It didn’t take long for me to realize what was going on here – my daughter was suffering from Kris Rogowski Syndrome. KRS, as I like to call it, is something that most people have gone through at some point in their lives. It is more prevalent in girls, and although many boys have also had KRS, it’s usually not as severe. KRS is what happens when you have a friend who runs hot and cold. A friend that torments you mercilessly, only to call you later and invite you over to play. A friend who your parents can’t quite figure out, because if they say anything bad about her, you will jump to her defense. A friend you bend over backwards to please, and sometimes wind up getting kicked in the teeth for your efforts.

This is the friend who can be your best pal in one instant, then whip out the knife the next. OR – this friend can go for weeks (or even months) without a single bad episode, then suddenly stop talking to you altogether. I had this friend when I was about Lexie’s age – her name was Kris Rogowski (hence the Syndrome). I don’t know how many emotional beatings I took from this girl until I realized I was sick of it, AND until all my other friends caught on to her mind games too. Because you see, KRS affects not only the main person, it also affects the other kids. Secondhand-smoke style. When one kid becomes the victim of KRS, all the other kids may avoid her for a time. Or join in the tormenting to appease the Sybil-like friend. To this day, I can’t explain the how’s or why’s of KRS, but apparently there is no cure for it, it just runs its course.

Lexie was deep in the throes of KRS and all I could do was watch helplessly. She finally told me that Kara was mad at her (again) and being mean to her (again) and she didn’t know why. I could see the frustration in her face, and although I empathized with her, I also knew there was nothing I could do. Except tell her about Kris Rogowski.

She listened intently as I relived my moments of aggravation and sadness, of feeling like I was a nobody and everybody liked Kris better than me. She nodded her head when I told her how there were some friends who stuck by me, and others who stuck with Kris. She looked surprised when I explained that every time Kris was mean to me, she always wound up pretending nothing ever happened and everything was fine completely out of the blue. And when I told her that although Kris could be really mean, she was also pretty nice sometimes, she blurted out, “Just like Kara!”

Bingo. Lexie’s tale of woe was eerily similar to mine, and seeing it from a parent’s perspective really sucked. I knew the long-term outcome, but I also knew that for now their friendship would seesaw back and forth and there was nothing I could do about it. Kara IS a good kid, I like her (just like I liked Kris Rogowski), but she definitely has the power-trip vibe going on. Which is the main component of KRS. KRS only affects kids who are nice kids that everybody likes. The other friend gets jealous and wants more attention and “power” and therefore puts down the victim. Which is why there is the whole “I don’t know why she is being so mean” factor. I honestly don’t think any kid involved really understands this syndrome – even the Kris Rogowski. I think it is a subconscious desire that is uncontrollable – but still not nice.

Anyway, after talking it out with my Lexie, we came to the conclusion that she would ride it out. She sighed and told me, “She’ll probably call me tomorrow to go out walking again and pretend like nothing happened.” Smart girl, my Lexie. She may not be able to escape KRS, but at least she has a better understanding of it. And hopefully will grow to be a better person for it.

After our talk, I asked her if she had changed her mind about dinner. And bedtime. She grinned, and admitted that she WAS pretty hungry. Then wound up playing Nintendo until about 9:30. So all is well, at least for now.

I don’t know whatever happened to the original Kris Rogowski, my instigator of KRS, but I have a feeling her children are probably keeping with tradition and spreading the syndrome. Or maybe they are on the receiving end… karma, you know??

Maya the Monster

There’s a girl in our complex that is driving Lexie and her friends crazy. She moved in with her mother and sister at the end of the summer, and has been nothing but trouble since. Now, I am a very tolerant person, and usually just naturally like everyone, so when Lexie told me this new girl was bothering her, I told her to just be nice and be patient, that this girl was probably just trying to make friends.

I was wrong.

Apparently since she has moved in, Maya has called Lexie and her friends lesbians, used every swear word in the book at them, and spit at them. She is also in Lexie’s class at school, and on the first day was sent to the principal’s office for kicking a chair across the room and throwing her water bottle at the teacher. THEN she told the principal that it was “Lexie and Kara’s fault” that she was acting out in school, because they wouldn’t be her friend. So Lexie and Kara got called in to talk to the principal, and wonderful, well-behaved polite girls that they are, they handled things well. They told the principal that they TRIED to be nice, that they had asked Maya to give them a minute of alone time, and then they could all play together. (Lexie had just gotten back from Michigan, and the two of them wanted to catch up on their own first.) But Maya got angry, and hassled them incessantly and started deliberately annoying them. So, obviously, they decided they didn’t want her around them AT ALL. The principal took everything into consideration, and wound up telling Maya that she couldn’t force people to be friends with her, and that none of her excuses were good reasons for her behavior in school. According to Lexie, Maya wound up going to see the school counselor (“you know, mom, they guy they make you go to when they think you’re crazy”) and still pretty much gets in trouble on a daily basis.

But one day about two weeks ago, Lexie called me when she got home from school and I could tell she was REALLY angry. Apparently Maya had gone up to Lexie and snidely commented “You just don’t like me because of the color of my SKIN.” Oh – did I forget to mention that Maya is black? OF COURSE I DID!! And THAT would be because I do not STAND for intolerance or racism on ANY level, nor does my daughter. As a matter of fact, Lexie didn’t even understand the concept of “black” people until she was like in third grade – even though we were friends with a bunch of people of all races. Because, you see, “they’re not BLACK, mommy, they’re BROWN.” Racism is something that children learn, and she will NOT learn that from me. But apparently little miss Maya has learned from HER mommy the value of playing that race card to her advantage. Which pissed off my daughter, and pissed me off, as well. Lexie went on to tell me that she told Maya that that WASN’T TRUE, that she liked everyone the same, no matter WHAT color they were. And she was still fuming about it with me. I could understand her anger, but I also knew that Maya had a burning desire to get under her skin, and had just found a way to do it. So I told Lexie that the important thing was that SHE knew it herself, and to try not to let Maya egg her on. To just ignore her.

So Lexie tried her best to do just that, but Maya is not one to be ignored. Apparently, she cornered her and Kara in the complex one day, and told them “Punch me. As hard as you can.” Obviously, Lexie and Kara were pretty taken aback, and CERTAINLY are not fighters. They are wimps. So they were like, “No way!” But Maya persisted: “Then KICK me. As hard as you can. Go ahead, the kids at my old school used to do it ALL THE TIME.” Of course, the girls still said no, and managed to walk away, leaving Maya frustrated and angry. So she swore up a storm at them as they did so, to which Lexie turned and said, “You know Maya, I would NEVER talk like that.” Maya’s response? “Of course you wouldn’t, because your’re not black.”

Ok, now I take issue with this comment. Doesn’t this ignorant ten-year-old child realize that by saying something like that, she is degrading her own RACE? I had previously considered talking to her mother about her, but after hearing what she said and seeing the woman in person (loud, 6” fingernails, “motherf***** this and motherf***** that”) I changed my mind. I have known plenty of angry people like that in my day, and I have no desire to get MY ass kicked. I am a pacifist.

So I talked to M, my coworker, thinking as an intelligent, classy black woman, she would have an opinion on this whole situation. Of course, she did. First off, I was shocked to hear her say that the only reason Maya wanted Lexie and Kara to punch or kick her was so that Maya could beat the crap out of them for throwing the first punch. (And here I felt sorry for the kid for getting hit at her old school!) So, she said, make SURE you tell them never to touch her. No problem, they are wimps, too. And as far as the mother, she agreed with me about talking to her. She said if Maya ever got REALLY bad with Lexie to tell her, and SHE would handle it. She knows that my white ass would be dragged all up and down the complex if I tried to approach her myself. Anyway, that’s where we stand for now. Who knew there would be so much drama in a suburban condo complex? I thought moving out of the city would be better for my girl. M suggested I teach Lexie how to fight, and I laughed. HA! The old saying “those who can’t, teach”? Bullshit. I can’t, AND I can’t teach. Besides, judging from my Lexie’s personality and lack of athleticism, I really don’t think she would ever learn to fight, anyway. I think if Maya ever tried to start something, Lexie would wind up something like this:

(And no, she was not knocked unconscious for that picture. She just went to sleep on the couch like that one night, and I thought it was funny. And just MAY come in handy for a blog illustration someday. Who knew??)

Ah, the drama. I’ll make sure to keep you posted on “The Maya Chronicles” as I like to refer to them. Most recently, Maya was just about to give a synopsis of the movie “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” before the teacher stopped her and said that it was probably inappropriate. (Ya think??) In all honestly, I DO feel sorry for the kid, it’s pretty obvious her mother’s got one helluva chip on her shoulder and takes it out on the kid and on white people in general – judging from Maya’s “reverse discrimination.” But all the same, I’ve told Lexie to keep her distance. Gotta be Momma Bear to my little cub, you know?

My Boys

These are my cats. Baby:

And Ace:

I love my boys, and since I can now post pictures, I felt obligated to share. Baby is a very arrogant SOB but I love him anyway, and Ace is losing his belly hair due to stress, although he looks pretty relaxed there. And definitely not in need of valium, no matter what the vet says.

Anyway, those are they. Or them. Aren't they great??

My OTHER Addiction

I am tired today. I think it may be because I got up this morning at about 5:30 am, when I really had no reason to do so. But then again, I fell asleep last night just before 10:00 while trying to watch the season premiere of Las Vegas, and that was just WRONG. It is a really good show, and I was pretty upset that my eyes wouldn’t cooperate with me and just stay open a little longer. If for nothing else, just to stare at Josh Duhamel and enjoy the view. So anyway, I fell asleep early, and woke up early. And I don’t feel healthy, wealthy OR wise, so I think that saying is just bullshit. I just feel tired. And when I DID get up at 5:30, I watched the end of Las Vegas and a couple more shows before I started getting ready for work instead of going back to bed.

Unfortunately for me, I absolutely CANNOT go to bed early tonight, because it is the season premiere of Nip/Tuck. Fall is a very difficult time for me, because with all the season premieres that I want to see AS THEY PREMIERE, I don’t seem to have a free millisecond available. After the first episode, I can usually just tivo everything and catch up on the weekends when it gets really cold and no one wants to go out, but for now since the weather is still nice and I am in my instant gratification phase – I need to watch these shows pretty much in real time (well, maybe a few minutes off so I can skim through commercials).

Yes, I know. I have overcome my addictions to drugs and cigarettes, but alas, my television addiction remains. And I fear it will always be a monkey on my back, albeit a very cute monkey that I really enjoy. I don’t know how things got so out of control, but at the current moment, I average about 30 or so hours of tv a week. But keep in mind that 15 hours are spent on All My Children, General Hospital, and Ellen Degeneres. So really, it’s only about 15 hours of prime time. But now there are NEW shows that I haven’t seen yet, but will soon enough… Hmmm, that even sounds low to me, actually… let’s make a list of all the shows I watch (or am planning to watch) on a regular basis, shall we (minus the soaps and Ellen, already mentioned them)?? Here we go:

Desperate Housewives, Las Vegas, Wife Swap, Medium, Big Brother, The Biggest Loser, My Name is Earl, The Amazing Race, Nip/Tuck, The Shield, Rescue Me, Reunion, Arrested Development, Lost, Invasion, Survivor, Everybody Hates Chris, ER, Three Wishes, Threshold, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Intervention, Celebrity Poker Showdown, Breaking Bonaduce, My Fair Brady, The Surreal Life, Being Bobby Brown, The Sopranos, Entourage.

I think that’s it. But do keep in mind that some of these shows are ending for their season, while others are just beginning. But as you can plainly see, I definitely have a problem. One that I have no desire to fix. Actually, when I bought my Tivo while they were still brand new, I justified it to my brother by telling him that yes, a Tivo IS in fact a necessity for someone like me, since I really have no other life. And actually, this damn tivo is just making my addiction even WORSE, because it always has links to these little teasers for new shows, which I really think it already knows I will want to watch. My tivo is like my dealer. Mr. Tivo plays all nice and records all my shows, and even suggests new ones… but every once in a while will tape the wrong CHANNEL or have the wrong INFORMATION, and then I MISS a SHOW and think “NO MORE, MR. TIVO!!” But then Mr. Tivo finds the same show and records it for me again, like an apology, and I am sucked right back in…

Oh, my God, I really need to get a life. After Nip/Tuck, though, I mean, come ON! Watching the Carver all set to destroy Christian’s face last season?? I HAVE to see what happens! Seriously, I can’t imagine abandoning ANY of my shows… I guess the networks will just have to start canceling them and then maybe if I just don’t start watching any NEW shows… Yeah, right. I’m pathetic, I know. But if you ever miss any of the above shows and need a recap, just drop me a line!!

I Think I've Got It!!

If I am doing this right, you should see a picture of Kerry Wood talking to my mom. See how happy he is? Or maybe he is thinking "This woman is CRAZY!!"



This is me with Nomar Garciaparra and his wife, the lovely Mia Hamm. I think she needs to start playing soccer again, she doesn't look too good. She actually looks a bit strung out, if you ask me. Come to think of it, Nomar looks a little off, too. Maybe they were both just really tired...


And this is me and Michael Barrett, who obviously isn't dead.


And THIS, dear readers, is the National League MVP Derek Lee. Well, unofficially at this point.


Finally, this is Mr. & Mrs. Satan and M being wimpy in the rain. I certainly didn't need no stinkin poncho!!


And since I've got this figured out (thanks, Timmortal) I thought I'd throw in a picture of my Roxy/Lexie with Ace and Baby (well, Baby's butt at least) taken this past Christmas.

Wow, picture posting is FUN!! And as my family can tell you, if there is one thing I love almost as much as writing, it is TAKING PICTURES!! Now I can combine BOTH!! But this has taken a lot out of me, so now I have to rest before I post again. Or at least do some work...

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Who would’ve thought that this day would ever come? That one day, I would be singing the praises of my boss rather than lamenting my fate as his employee? Certainly not I. Then again, how could I have known the ecstasy I would feel from one trip to good old Wrigley Field??

Ok, just so you know, I am a die hard Cub fan. DIE HARD. Which means even if they screw up (which I am the first to admit they invariably do) I will love them anyway. I REFUSE to jump off the Cubs bandwagon and cheer for that OTHER Chicago team, no matter what. Seriously, if you are a TRUE Cub fan and the World Series is being played between the White Sox and the Cardinals, as far as you are concerned, baseball season is officially over. End of story. (No, not end of THIS story, don’t worry.) So for those of you unfamiliar with Cub players, this won’t seem too exciting for you, and you may not even understand it. And for you Sox fans, you probably won’t care (and I won’t care if YOU don’t care). But for myself and the katrillion other Cubs fans reading this, you will understand my unadulterated feelings of joy.

Satan approached M and I on Monday, and asked if we would be interested in going to the Cub game on Thursday night. Now, this isn’t all that unusual, as he usually takes “the office” (which consists of myself, M, Satan, and J, the other attorney) to a Cubs game every year. And he always gets INCREDIBLE seats. Like a couple rows behind the Cubs dugout. That in itself is pretty awesome. But it’s usually a day game, so M wasn’t too keen on the idea. I, of course, would NEVER give up an opportunity to see my guys, especially when they are playing the Cardinals and Mark Prior is pitching. J, unfortunately, had to go to some school thing for his daughter, so he couldn’t make it. Which meant I had to convince M to go or the whole plan would be wiped out. Well, it took a little convincing (and a promise of alcohol), but M agreed she would give up an evening to join us at Wrigley. And since J couldn’t make it, Mrs. Satan was going to go in his place. Which was cool, because M and I really like Mrs. S, and we figured she’d probably keep him on an even keel for the night, too.

Anyway, the day before the game, I start hearing about the Hurricane Relief Fundraiser the Cubs were planning on doing. Apparently, players, their wives, broadcasters, coaches – EVERYONE was going to be at the front gates of Wrigley for the first hour the gates were open collecting money for the hurricane victims. If you donated $5, you got a little Cubs pin, and got to meet some players. The only problem was, the gates opened at 5:05, and I honestly did not think Satan would even let us leave the office until 5:00. Boy, did he surprise me!

When we got to the office yesterday, he mentioned that he thought we should leave around 3:15 or 3:30. (??) Even I knew that was pretty darn early, but I kept my mouth shut. Well, about leaving too early, at least. I DID take that opportunity to tell him about the fundraiser, which he actually seemed interested in. When Mrs. S got to the office and I told her, she was REALLY interested. And I, being the picture-happy person that I am, of course had my camera. So we all left and drove out to the city, actually enjoying some casual conversation. When we got to Wrigley (as I figured) it was only about 4:20. So after Satan forked over $40 for parking (crazy, I agree) we decided to go to the Cubby Bear for a drink.

How weird is that? Sitting with Satan and having a drink in an actual bar?? Pretty weird, I must say. But what was REALLY funny was when Lexie called me on my cell and asked where I was. (She was waiting to be picked up by a friend’s mom to spend the night – don’t worry, I didn’t abandon her!) I told her a bar, and she was all like, “With SATAN? Who’s driving?? Why are you at a bar with SATAN??” Apparently my daughter is all too aware of my usual feelings towards the man. I told her Satan was driving, I was fine, and be good and listen to Kara’s mom. Then she told me “Don’t get too drunk to answer you phone.” God, I love my daughter. Anyway, after only ONE drink at the bar (which Satan paid for as well) we headed to the gates.

At the front gate, we could see Ron Santo talking to people and signing autographs. I wanted to just go in and walk around inside, but Satan wanted to walk on the outside and see who else was at the other gates. For once, I am SO GLAD he suggested that. We came to the next gate, and I had a blonde vision. There, with his arms under his shirt, standing next to his wife, was none other than Kerry Wood. Ok, I like Kerry, and people who know my brother know HE likes Kerry, but there is one person in the world who loves him more. My mother. Now, just so you don’t get the wrong idea, she loves him like a son. Seriously. She thinks he looks like my brother, and just ADORES the man. So without even really asking, I headed toward the gate.

We got in right away, and I called my mom on my cell. When she answered, I told her to hang on, and I went up to Kerry and said, “Could you PLEASE say hello to my mom who absolutely ADORES you?” And he laughed, and said sure. So I held the phone up to his ear, and he said, “Hello Mom who absolutely ADORES me!” But then he said, “I can’t hear her…” so I took the phone back and told my mom it was Kerry Wood on the phone. She didn’t believe me, and actually called me a liar, but I swore to her it was true. Then I told Kerry she didn’t believe me, so he pulled his good arm out from under his shirt and took the phone and told her, “No seriously, this really IS Kerry Wood.” And he talked to her for a couple of minutes. The guy is awesome. He TOTALLY made her century. And I took a couple pictures of him laughing on the phone with her before he said goodbye.

Things from there just kept getting better. We met Derek Lee, Aramis Ramirez, Nomar and Mia, Ron Santo, Todd Walker, Jose Macias… and I got pictures with most of them. Then we saw Michael Barrett, who got beaned in the head the night before. I went up to him and said, “Michael! Are you ok? I was SO WORRIED about you!” (Which I was, by the way. I at first thought the guy was dead, for God’s sake. I mean, it was a HARD HIT, and he just laid there for a while.) He laughed and told me he was fine, his headache was even gone now. And then SNAP! another picture. Last guy we saw was my buddy, Jeromy Burnitz. You may recall from a previous post that he threw a baseball to me at a past game. Well, I told him he threw me a ball and my daughter and I loved him for it, which made him laugh. Another CUTE picture.

By this point, M was getting really sick of taking my picture, so we finally went to our seats. Which, of course, were awesome as expected. Satan and Mrs. S took a walk around, while M and I checked out the pictures we took. The only bummer part was that S and the Mrs. told us they saw Carlos Zambrano and Corey Patterson during their walk, but that they had to leave. Oh, well, another time.

The game itself pretty much sucked, the Cubs played like they usually do, although they DID have some pretty good infield plays thanks to Nomar. And Derek Lee hit another home run (so what else is new?). It also POURED off and on, which didn’t really bother me until today when I woke up with a sore throat and sounding like Marge Simpson’s sister. The last surprise of the evening came when S told me that I should come into work at 8:30 like usual, and M could come in at 9:30, then I could leave an hour early and she would stay until 5:00. WHAT??? Satan being NICE EVEN MORE??? I think the apocalypse is coming. But if it is, at least I got to meet some of the Cubs first.

Phone Calls from HELL

Last night the phone rang around 8:30. With a Florida number. Just to get you up to speed, Lexie’s grandparents on her so-called “father’s” side live in Florida. Now before you get all huffy on me for the “so-called father” part, you should know that this is a man who has not seen nor attempted to see his own daughter since she was four months old. He had never sent a birthday card, or a Christmas gift, or a letter. Well, wait, yes he did, actually. This past Christmas, after almost TEN YEARS, he did send a very brief letter and a card with a little necklace, and he signed the card “Rick (Dad).” Of course, he did this after I sent a scathing letter to him about what a loser he was for missing his daughter’s entire life, and how nice it was for him to be living off his new wife’s child support, since he never paid any himself for his own child. (Yes, folks, as close as I can figure, he owes approximately $40,000.00 in arrears.) In his letter, he suggested to Lexie that maybe they could write each other (since he now lived in Florida too) and get to know each other, and someday see each other. My daughter approached me with this letter after reading it, and crying, and told me that since he ignored HER for almost ten years, maybe she would ignore HIM now. And she gave me the necklace and told me she didn’t want it. Can’t blame the kid, really, but it broke my heart. She doesn’t deserve an asshole like that for a father, but I still won’t tell her that. I try to be neutral and tell her that no matter what, he is still her father, and maybe if he ever DOES come around, she should give him a chance. Which kills me to say, by the way, but she has to come to her own conclusions about him. It’s not my place to bad-mouth him to her. Anyway, now that she is getting older, she has her own thoughts on the whole situation, and who can blame her? She feels hurt, angry and abandoned. She wants nothing to do with him. And true to form, since she didn’t write the jerk back, he hasn’t even bothered to write her again since that one and only letter. Just goes to show how serious he was about forging a relationship with his only child.

So – back to the phone call. Since the beginning, his parents have treated Lexie well. They always send cards and gifts on holidays (since they are in FL and we are in IL) and once a year come to town and see Lexie. Only last year, they didn’t see her because we were in Hawaii for my brother’s wedding. And now this year, Lexie wants nothing to do with them. She told me that they don’t even know her, every time they send her a gift, it is way too small or not her style or TOTALLY age-inappropriate (i.e., last year they sent her Barbie toys). She said they never call her, and aren’t there for her like her REAL grandparents (my mom & dad). And I really think in a way she feels betrayed by them since she knows her father lives in Florida by them and he will see THEM but not HER. I can’t really get upset with her, and I don’t want to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, so I just ignored the call. We listened to the message, and she said “Mom, please don’t call them back. I DON’T want to see them.” So I didn’t. For now. For now I am trying to decide just how to handle this. I mean, do I just ignore them COMPLETELY and let them figure it out? Or do I call them and tell them their granddaughter wants nothing to do with them? Which is the lesser of two evils?

I have to respect my daughter’s wishes, because I am not going to force her to have a relationship with people she feels uncomfortable with. I will also support her when (or if) she decides to meet her father. But for right now, with this specific situation, I am stumped on what to do. My father always tells me “blood is thicker than water” and that no matter how nice his parents are to me, they will always back their son in the end. (Even though he is a raging alcoholic/drug-addict at 45. Who apparently doesn’t work, or is working for cash under the table to avoid paying support. Sorry, I digress.) Anyway, he’s probably right, and I SHOULDN’T trust them, to be honest another one of my fears is that he came with them from Florida and if we arrange a get-together – SURPRISE! – HE will be there. And I KNOW Lexie does NOT need that right now.

So that is one major thing on my mind today. Another not-so-major thing, but something that TOTALLY pissed me off nonetheless, is that I had a voice mail message this morning on my cell phone from “Restricted.” I had to play the message a couple times, just to figure out exactly what it was, and my best guess is someone trying to bark like a dog or snort like a pig. Give you three guesses who I am SURE it was. Mr. South Side, YOU ARE A LOSER. How immature is that? Thank GOD I only went out with him three times. How freaking pathetic!! I may even call him later to tell him what an ASSHOLE LOSER he is. Then again, maybe not. But I really do not need to wake up to sophomoric animal noises on my cell phone. Maybe I’ll call him and tell him that my Chicago Police uncles were able to trace the restricted calls to his area, and I will be lodging a formal complaint. And that if he even THINKS of calling me again, he will be arrested so fast his thick head will spin. And know what? I’m pretty sure he’d believe me, because he is an IDIOT.

Sigh. It is only 9:13 in the am and already I am ready to go home and go to bed. Too much shit going around in my head. I wish everyone would just leave me alone!! Oh, well. Life’s an adventure, right??

Improv Day

My sincerest apologies. I have been sitting here playing online poker, and trying to think of something to write about, and I am coming up with absolutely NOTHING. Zip, zilch, nada. I even read some of my favorite OTHER blogs to try to inspire me, and good as they were, I still am drawing a blank. So this is totally improvisational – if something written can actually BE improvisational. Can it? I will say yes. Because it is MY blog and I can do whatever I want. So today is improv day.

It is not hot here today. As a matter of fact, M is cold. But like I told you yesterday, she was comfortable when they had the heat on. So it is actually a nice normal temperature here today. And Satan is chaperoning a field trip for his son’s class. They went sailing on Lake Michigan. I don’t know about you, but when I was in sixth grade, we never took field trips to go sailing on Lake Michigan. Even when we were learning about sailboats, which (according to Satan) is the educational reason for this field trip. To be honest, I really can’t even REMEMBER any of my school field trips, which just shows you how interesting and memorable they were.

Lexie stood at the bus stop today in the rain, even though I offered her an umbrella. She flatly refused, and then her friend Kara came strolling up to the bus stop, and SHE didn’t have an umbrella either. So I rolled down my car window and yelled, “KARA! You would rather be Cool than Dry??” and she smiled angelically and replied, “Of course! It’s only water!” Lexie shot me an exasperated look and went to join her wet friend, and I left, trying to remember how old I was before I realized only stupid people stand out in the rain without an umbrella by choice. (I’m thinking… 30 maybe?)

Tomorrow is picture day for Lexie, and she showed me the outfit she plans to wear. A hot pink halter and capris. Obviously, the halter isn’t anything sexy or revealing, it was designed for a ten year old, after all. And with her blonde hair, the color should look good in her picture. I guess I should be glad she is still asking for my approval before picture day, I’m sure that won’t be happening for many years after this one. Hell, she’ll probably wear one thing to school and change into another when she gets there. But she’d better not, because that would be STUPID since I will eventually see the picture anyway. Then again, kids aren’t always that smart when it comes to trying to snow their parents. I was, of course, but kids today TOTALLY aren’t.

I posted my picture on match.com just to see what would happen (I totally refuse to pay any stupid fees, considering my horrible experiences with online dating) and I’ve actually gotten several “winks.” Of course, I delete them all and send them back to cyberspace, because I technically can’t respond anyway, but it’s nice to know people are looking. The only thing that DID throw me was that I got a wink from a guy named Erik (with a “k”) and as I told you wayyyyyy back in one of my first blogs, when I was about Lexie’s age, a Ouija board told me I would marry someone named “Erik.” With a “k.” So of course, I HAD to just check out this guy’s profile, I mean, what if it was DESTINY, right? But as it turns out, he is like six years younger than me and looks about 15. And apparently he is big into fashion and style – which makes me wonder if maybe he is just “testing the waters” as far as women go. Oh well, so much for destiny.

Wow, look at that. I have improv-ed a lot! Mostly incoherent babbling with no real point, but so what? I have a blog for today, and that’s all that matters, right? Maybe tomorrow I’ll try to think of a REAL topic – or maybe not. If anyone has any suggestions for tomorrow’s blog – let me know!

If You Can't Take the Heat...

I think I am dying. No, seriously, I think I am. From heat stroke. When I walked into my work building this morning, I thought, “Gee, it’s not really that cool in here this morning, is it?” But I figured, hey, it’s Monday morning, maybe the air hadn’t really kicked in full gear from being off all weekend, you know? Then I got up to my office on the 4th floor. Guess what? It is like a friggin OVEN in here. No joke. Apparently the new convention center the village is building down the street from us has somehow affected OUR building’s computerized “environment system,” and therefore our HEAT was on. According to the thermomenter in Satan’s office, it was 89° with a 48% humidity reading when I walked in at 8:30. (Kind of funny, in a way, because now it really IS like working in hell.) They have been telling us all morning (“they” being the building management employees who answer our phones, give us our mail, and are supposed to keep us happy) that the problem “is being taken care of,” but the lowest the temperature got was 84°, and right now it is up to 87° again, and it is almost noon.

I wonder if I have all my effects in order at home? My poor baby, what will she say when she calls here after school and finds out her mother died from heat stroke? Geez, that’s not even funny. I really shouldn’t joke about that. But I REALLY think the heat is getting to me. And it doesn’t help any that I am sitting here in jeans and a heavier t-shirt, either. Had I known, I might’ve worn my bathing suit. HA! Like I would really wear my bathing suit to work. Not. But I MAY have worn capris or something, you know?

M, on the other hand, is just sitting here enjoying the heat immensely. To her, this is comfortable. She is the one who is always freezing when the temperature goes below 80°. Personally, I don’t understand that, but to each his (or her) own. And now Satan just called and asked me about the “heat situation.” Funny thing is, he asked me what I knew about it, so I told him, then he asked what they are doing about it. So I told him, “Well, they offered everyone bottled water and ice…” Which is true, but I don’t think that is what he wanted to hear. So he told me, “Ok, then I will talk to them and handle this.” Which KILLS me, because really, what does he think will happen? Does he HONESTLY think that when HE complains about this, all of a sudden the air will MIRACULOUSLY come on full-blast? I mean, it’s not like the other 50 or so people who rent space on our floor (and the other couple hundred or so people in the BUILDING, because it IS the whole building that’s affected) haven’t ALREADY been complaining? Oh, Satan, your God-complex is so paradoxical, yet amusing.

Anyway, I am hot, and I can’t concentrate anymore. If the air comes on, maybe I will try again later. Or not. No promises. Oh – I also was informed by my daughter that I no longer have to use a blog alias when I refer to her. Apparently she relishes the thought of fame. So no more will you hear about “Roxy,” form now on it will be all about “Lexie.” Good thing she doesn’t know some of the things I write about her may be less than flattering to her 10 year old ego.

Ok, seriously now, I’m out. And if there are no more blogs EVER, you’ll know why.

Waiting on a Friend

I watched a new show last night called “Reunion,” mostly because it was a show about a group of friends who graduated high school in 1986, which is when I graduated high school. Well, that and it got good reviews. (Oh, who am I kidding? I’ll watch pretty much anything on TV – even though I am REALLY trying hard to cut down.) Anyway, it did turn out to be a pretty good show, but it also kind of bummed me out. Because the whole show revolves around these six friends who have been friends like FOREVER, and remain friends even twenty years after their graduation. (The fact that one of them eventually gets offed by another is irrelevant to my tale.) See, I don’t have a group of friends like that. I USED to, and had I played my cards differently, I probably still could have, but I don’t. So here’s what was going through my mind last night after watching that: I wish I had what THEY do. (Minus the DUI, teen pregnancy, jail, and murder, of course.)

When I was in grammar school, I had a best friend named Ann. We were best friends from first grade all the way through eighth. Along the way, we added to our clique, and the final group consisted of myself, Ann, Linda, Suzy, and Dawn. But Ann and I were always BEST friends. We used to tape record made up stories just for the fun of it, we ruled at Science Password (see, we memorized our own coded clues), and we played deep deep DEEP center field in kickball in gym together (for both teams – we just stayed in center field the whole game). We learned how to walk on stilts, pogo-stick, and rollerskate together. We even spent a nightmare week together in summer camp. Her family was like mine, and vice-versa. When we started high school, a friend of her family’s had a daughter starting with us. Ann had known her in passing, but since she would now be in our school, she started hanging with us as well. So our group added Sheila.

I’m not sure if I got jealous of the time Ann was spending with Sheila, or if I just got bored with hanging out with the “nice” girls, but I slowly drifted out of our group. And found a new best friend by the end of my sophomore year, Marilee. She was cool and pretty, and the total opposite of my old friends. Who all still hung out together. I started working in the hospital across the street in junior year, and met still more people. Marilee and I stayed “best friends” in theory, but I now had a couple other “best friends” too. When I left for college, I met more new people and again found a new best friend. Her name was Amy, and she was a year older than me. We had good times that year, until the end, and Amy actually wound up marrying a good friend of mine. But she didn’t invite me to the wedding, because even though I introduced them, it turned out Amy had issues, and thought I was after her husband to be. (What??) So Amy and I kind of stopped being best friends.

The summer after my sole year in college, I found another new best friend, Angie. We became best friends after we found out we were dating the same guy, but both liked his brother more. (A long story for another time.) This is not the smartest way to become best friends, let me tell you. It worked for a while, but eventually puttered out. And by then I had met my current best friend, Diane, while working at Red Lobster. (Oh, THAT’S a good story, too – I’ll definitely have to blog that one!!) Anyway, around this time, I also met Kevin, who basically (yet inadvertently) made me lose any hope of having a best friend at all, due to all the complications arising out of a relationship with him (see The Beginning of the End for more info on THAT). So Diane became “lost friend” (temporarily, don’t worry) and then I had no best friend at all for several years.

Eventually after I straightened out my life, I tracked down Diane and we reinstated our “best friend” status, which is still in effect today. I also reconnected with some good friends from my past, and made several new friends as an adult, through my daughter’s friends (their moms), work, and neighbors. But I don’t have that one clique that knows everything about me from forever ago.

Diane comes pretty close, and my other friend Julie does too (since she’s known me since high school), and I guess if you want to get technical, my cousin Karyn knows a lot about me going all the way back to before we could talk… but because of my lost years with Kevin, even SHE doesn’t know EVERYTHING. And I sometimes feel like I’m all alone because of that. Since Diane is way up in Michigan, I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like, and she’s hard to get a hold of a lot since she works full-time and has three VERY active daughters. Julie is busy a lot too, and she’s getting married on top of everything else, so her time is pretty limited. And Karyn? With three kids and a fourth on the way, I think our conversations never last longer than two minutes.

But these people on tv have their whole group to lean on. Which, like I said in the beginning, I could’ve had, but threw away. I know this because I’ve seen my old group several times over the years, and hear about them too. It’s the same as it was back in grammar school, but now Sheila has replaced me. And they all stood up for each other’s weddings, and are godmothers to their kids, and get together for holiday parties and birthdays, and their kids are all friends… I’m jealous. And I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I HADN’T gotten bored in high school – how different things would be.

Because now even WITH friends I often feel alone. I make a big deal of being the girl who is always there if you need anything, who will show up for everyone’s parties or demonstrations or get-togethers, the girl the whole family knows will never miss a function and can tell you any relatives address, phone number or kids’ names… But my BEST best friend is in Michigan and sometimes I wonder if my other friends just stay my friends out of pity for me, you know, single mom, no boyfriend, dull life… Yes, folks, insecurity central. I know I’ve made my own decisions, and apparently I DO have regrets, but ultimately this is the life I’ve chosen for myself. And it’s not BAD by any means, just sometimes kind of… lonely.

Well, at least I have my blog.

FYI

So I went to Quizno’s for lunch today and guess what? When I left to come back to work there was no one overdosing in the parking lot! Whew!

Just thought you’d like to know.

Busy Work Revisited

So last Friday I had a REALLY bad day at work (another “listen to Eminem” kind of day) that I really wanted to talk about, and haven’t been able to until now. If you are a faithful reader, you will recall that while Satan (my boss) was on vacation, he left me some busy work. Busy work that took me FOREVER to do, and wound up being about 25 pages long. A nice little chart listing all the court documents for an old case, chronologically, with all the necessary details in separate columns. When I had finished it, I joked to my coworker, “He’ll probably STILL say it’s all wrong.” Well, guess what? He basically did.

TWO FULL WEEKS after he came back, this past Friday, at about 4:00 no less, he calls from his office, “Dasi, where is that spreadsheet I asked you to make? What did you save it under?” I told him, and he came storming out of his office. “Why isn’t it in EXCEL? I NEED it in EXCEL!”

Ok, besides the internet and typing basic documents, I am COMPLETELY computer illiterate. I do not know Excel, or Power Point, or Outlook. I know Word. That’s IT. And I have never misrepresented my computer illiteracy. In the over four years I have been here, I have NEVER used any program other than Word. So when he started screaming about Excel, I kind of gave him a “what-the-fuck?” look and said, “Satan (yes, he is called ‘Satan’ behind his back, because what else would you call the boss when you work in HELL???), I don’t KNOW Excel.”

Well, THAT went over well. Next I had to listen to a tirade of how he needed to SORT this material, didn’t he tell me it needed to be SORTED when he asked me to do this? Patiently, I replied, “Satan, even if you HAD told me it needed to be sorted, I would not have known that meant Excel, because I DO NOT KNOW EXCEL.” I felt like I was talking to a four-year old (albeit a four-year old ASSHOLE) and could feel my face flushing and my temples pounding. “Then you should have ASKED!” he said condescendingly. Ok, ASKED WHAT?? If I had zero knowledge of something that someone made reference to, how would I know to ASK about it? Am I crazy? Because he was making me feel as though I was. And yet I knew that since he had not SPECIFICALLY said Excel, and I had never used the program, there was no way I could’ve known what he wanted. Honestly, I thought my Word table was very well done. It was neat, chronological, and had taken me frickin’ FOREVER to do! Twenty-odd pages typed and formatted perfectly. But in the end, he told me, “Well, I guess you’ll just have to do the whole thing over. In Excel.”

Which I STILL didn’t know. I was so mad I was seriously afraid I was going to either knock the shit out of the little weasel or say something I may regret, so I grabbed some papers the other attorney needed copied and left for the copy room. Of course, when I finished, Satan had left for the weekend. My coworker M tried to show me Excel, and help me maybe transfer some of my Word table onto an Excel document, but I was too frustrated and angry. Besides, by then it was almost 5:00, and I had no desire to hang out there any longer than I had to.

So I hopped in my car, and blasted (what else?) “Puke.” Over and over and over again. To the point that when I pulled up in my driveway, my neighbor (the nice one) laughed and asked if I had a bad day. And invited me over to drink and watch the Cubs. Which was very nice, so I took Roxy over to her friend’s house and did just that. I felt a little better, but I was still really aggravated that I now not only had to figure out a whole new program, but had to re-do a project that was really time-consuming and bottom line – a pain in the ass.

The rest of my weekend was pretty uneventful, except for when I took Roxy to Septemberfest on Saturday and saw Officer Friendly – who was REALLY HOT. Problem was, I saw him while Roxy and her friend were in the fire safety house, so I had no reason to go over and check him out more. And he was in the middle of closing his booth. Roxy graciously volunteered to barrage Officer Friendly with questions when we returned on Monday so I could stand there and flirt. Unfortunately when we went back to Septemberfest on Monday, there was a new Officer Friendly who was old and not very hot at all. So that plan totally flopped. I’ll have to start speeding down the streets of Schaumburg hoping to get caught by the Hot Officer Friendly. But back to my work issue.

I got to the office early on Tuesday, armed with useful information from helpful friends on how to possibly transfer my table from Word to Excel. However, when faced with the actual program on the screen, I was at a loss. I did remember certain key words, though, and tried typing them into the Excel “help” section. Through trial and error, I was able to transfer the whole thing at once, and only had to make some minor adjustments to make it fit better.

To be honest, I wasn’t really sure at all if I had done it right or not, but I didn’t care. It looked ok to me, and when I saved it under Excel, it worked. So I printed it up, put it on Satan’s shelf, and waited for the fallout. Guess what? I got NOTHING. No “Gee, Dasi, you finished this quick!” or “So, were you able to transfer any of it, or is this all re-typed?” or heaven forbid I get a “Sorry for the trouble, but thanks for putting this in Excel after you busted your ass on it originally.” He made NO COMMENT at all. So technically, it COULD still be all wrong. Since he said NOTHING. Unbelievable.

Which is why for the most part my job SUCKS. Then again, Satan does take many vacations throughout the year, and the pay is better than I would get anywhere else in the burbs without a degree. Tolerating his shit comes with the territory. And as my brother points out, I DO manage to blog on a daily basis, and check e-mails, and goof off when he is on the phone or out of the office. So I guess it all balances out. Besides, where else can I talk to someone who wants to sue his boss for stealing his girlfriend and who then lost his home because he lived with his girlfriend and she threw him out? (Oh – and he wanted to sue as fast as possible so he could get enough money to quit his job so he wouldn’t have to see his boss every day.) Not many other places, I tell you. But I still wish Satan wasn’t such an ass.

Sorry, Wrong Number

Last night I was helping Roxy with her homework (Did you know fifth graders are learning SQUARE ROOTS?? And DECIMALS?? And PERCENTAGES?? She’s going to need to call Uncle Bob soon if things get any more advanced!!) and half-watching the Cubs (how ‘bout that Glendon Rusch? Yeah, baby!) when my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and saw that it was my Auntie Pat, which I thought kind of odd, since she really doesn’t ever call me. And that made me a little nervous, thinking maybe something was wrong. But when I answered, she greeted me with, “What are YOU doing at your mother’s at this hour?”

Now, let me give you a little background on my Auntie Pat. I love love LOVE the woman to death, and she totally cracks me up. She is a little Italian fireball who is loud and isn’t afraid to speak her mind. At my cousin’s wedding in July, she told everyone that she was planning on going to Aruba to hang out at Carlos & Charlie’s, hoping some native would kidnap her and make her his sex slave. Then there was the time she tried to get a Coke out of a new vending machine that talked. When she put in her money, the machine said, “Please make your selection now.” My aunt, God bless her, stood there yelling into the machine “I WANT A COKE!!” for a good five to ten minutes before someone walked up and pressed the button for her. So when she asked me last night why I was at my mother’s, I kind of laughed and told her she must have dialed wrong.

She told me she loved me but really didn’t want to talk to me, and that she was SURE she dialed my mother’s number. Now, my mother and I don’t even have the same AREA CODES, so I was kind of like, “Yeah, ok, Auntie Pat, SUUUURE you dialed her number.” She was getting a little upset with me, so she said, “Ok, fine, I’ll just try again.”

Not thirty seconds later, my phone rang again. Guess who? I had Roxy answer, and I could hear Auntie Pat’s distinctive voice coming through the receiver. Roxy was giggling and handed me the phone, and I was now dealing with a very agitated aunt. “I DID DIAL THE RIGHT NUMBER!” she was yelling. “TWO-EIGHT-TWO…” I could almost picture her punching the numbers in the air. But the fact remained that either way, she was reaching MY number, not my mom’s. Auntie Pat insisted that someone must be messing with her phone, and said that she was going to call the operator. I asked her if she wanted me to call my mom and have her call HER back, and she said, “NO. If I can’t get through, I’m going to bed. Forget it!! Goodbye, Dasi, I love you.”

Laughing, I hung up the phone again, and figured I’d call my mom anyway to let her know what had transpired. When I dialed her number, there was one ring, then voice mail clicked on. MY voice mail: “Hi, you have reached Dasi and Roxy…” Unbelieveable. Auntie Pat wasn’t crazy, apparently my MOTHER was. Poor Auntie Pat, who at this moment was calling the operator, was telling the truth – she WAS dialing the right number. Since I obviously couldn’t reach my mom on her home line, I tried her cell (hoping to GOD she didn’t just sing along with the ringtone, as she has been known to do). Alas, she didn’t answer (I could almost hear her humming “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”). So, I did the next logical thing, I called my brother. Knowing full well that all he would pretty much do is shake his head and chuckle in amusement. (Which he did – even though I couldn’t see the head-shake.) As the two of us were trying to figure out if there was some possible way our mother could have pressed some button to activate call-forwarding, my other line clicked. It was my mother – calling from her cell phone. Following was our conversation:

“Dasi?”
“Yes, mom – let me call you right back. And DON’T turn off your cell phone!”
“Why?”
“Because, mom, I’ll explain when I call you back.” (Sudden thought) “WHY are you calling me back from your cell, anyway?”
“Because you CALLED me on my cell.”
“But is there something WRONG with your home phone?”
“No…. I guess I COULD’VE called from there…”
“Ok, mom? I’ll call you RIGHT BACK. DON’T turn off your cell!”
“Ok….”

I clicked back over to my brother, and relayed the above to him. More head shaking and chuckling. But between the two of us, we figured that it PROBABLY wasn’t her new phone, but that she DEFINITELY must have pressed something she shouldn’t have accidentally. My brother is pretty used to bizarre hijinks (always wanted to use that word “hijinks”) that occur often with myself or my mother, and I know for a fact he sometimes wonders if he is the only sane one in the family (By the way, no you are not, Bob. You are just as crazy as the rest of us – you just hide it better). Anyway, Bob wasn’t all that concerned, and left it to me to figure out.

So I called mom back on her cell, which thankfully she answered. Roxy thought the whole thing was pretty funny too, so she picked up the other extension and was explaining to grandma how WE were getting her calls. Mom was pretty flustered, so we told her to hang up, and try calling her own number. Obviously when she did that, OUR phone rang. When Roxy and I picked up on each extension, my mother was cracking up, and insisting she didn’t do anything to the phone. When I told her about poor Auntie Pat, she was laughing even harder. I told her that I really had no desire to be her answering service, so she had better do something. At which point she told me that this wasn’t funny, and to stop laughing. Of course, that made me laugh more, which made Roxy laugh more, which made HER laugh more. Finally, I told her to try calling the phone company to see if she had accidentally activated call forwarding somehow. So she said she would do that, and would call back. I jokingly told her, “Feel free to use either number.”

Anyway, when she called back, she said apparently she DID accidentally activate it. To do so, you have to press *72 or 72#, then enter the number you want your calls forwarded to. My phone number ENDS in 72, so all we can figure is somehow when she initially dialed my number, nothing registered except for the 72, and then when she redialed my number, voila. (Although I don’t know when or how she managed to press either * or #. Leave it to my mother.) She said even the operator was laughing at her, but was really nice and told her how to cancel it, which she did. So now I told her to please be more careful when dialing.

And as for Auntie Pat, well, I DID call her back to tell her she wasn’t crazy. (At least not as far as the phone is concerned.) But she decided to wait to call my mother until tonight. Hopefully mom will leave the phone alone until then.

We Apologize for the Delay...

To all the faithful who are anxiously awaiting Part VI of TBOTE (more specifically: AMBER), my sincerest apologies. Satan obviously is in no rush to leave today, and is in fact hovering over me CONSTANTLY (which makes even typing THIS difficult, to say the least). He is in rare form and is really pissing me off. And I just got back from making 300 copies and having the friggin copier jam about a dozen times. So… it looks like the cliffhanger will last until Tuesday. Unless I can get my hands on a computer over the weekend, which is doubtful. I have a severe migraine coming on and I can TOTALLY feel the tension in my neck and shoulders, so I hope I can be forgiven.

Don’t you just LOVE days like this?? I know I do!!! Have a great holiday weekend – and I promise to make Part VI worth the wait!

Nightmares in Schaumburg

I had a dream last night that I was in this really big room, with lots of people, just hanging out, when all of a sudden, someone started shooting. Someone yelled for everyone to get down, and when I did, for some reason I grabbed a metal folding chair and pulled it over my head to kind of shield me. I heard a loud “ping” and when the shooting stopped, I moved the chair and noticed that one of the bullets had lodged into the metal of the chair, and would’ve gone right through my head. Kind of unnerving. While I was freaking out about the whole thing, I woke up.

It took me a few seconds to realize that it was just a dream, and for my heart to slow down, and finally I fell back asleep. Only, this time I had another violent dream. In this dream, I was driving a car full of teenagers in this pretty shabby neighborhood. I didn’t recognize any of them, they were just faceless people. But they all had weapons, and apparently I was driving them to some kind of gang fight. We stopped at this warehouse, and as they were about to get out, one of the kids said, “No, this is the wrong place. OUR fight is across the street.” Apparently the fight I had erroneously stopped at was a gun fight, and these kids only had switchblades. (Like the saying, “never bring a knife to a gunfight.”) So I pulled out of the lot, and made a u-turn to drop them off across the street. All the while feeling a little nervous about being in the middle of a gang war, but anxious to get these kids out of my car. Again, I woke up. (At least this time I didn’t get shot at.)

But when I woke up the second time, it was almost time for me to get up anyway. So I shut off the alarm and watched my two cats jockeying for position on my bedroom windowsill (since the window was open), all the while wondering what the hell those two dreams meant. If anything. Because who knows, maybe the sandman just decided to mess with my head. Hopefully it’s not a premonition, because I’m not real good at getting shot at OR being involved in gang fights. I guess it could be symbolic, but symbolic of WHAT is beyond me. If anyone has any thoughts let me know.

In the meantime, I’ll get back to work and try to organize my thoughts on a new chapter for “The Beginning of the End.”

Adios, Amigos

Ok, so I’m thinking my photo shoot last night was a success. Roxy, of course, is MORTIFIED that her mother wants to be considered a “hottie,” but I don’t care. Now I just have to wait for THE picture to be shot into cyberspace so I can put the link on my blog profile. (For those of you who don’t remember, I use a stupid NT computer, and therefore cannot upload ANY pictures without going through several channels to do it.) Hopefully this afternoon I’ll be good to go.

And nobody better laugh.

Anyway. I tried to call a friend of mine last night, a friend who, mind you, was SUPPOSED to come over for dinner while Roxy was in Michigan. He didn’t call me to confirm our plans, which was fine at the time, since you all know about my home improvement fiasco. But since I hadn’t heard from him AT ALL since we initially made our plans, I figured I’d call him and find out what the hell was going on.

I got a fast busy.

Very strange. You see, this was the friend who I recently reconnected with whose father passed away. The one who had just moved back to Chicago from Michigan because he was getting divorced. The one who came with me and my other friends to Def Leppard and had a great time. So I was a bit confused. I decided to call another friend I hadn’t talked to in a while, but who also knew V to find out what was up. When I jokingly asked, “What, did he skip town?” C told me that yes, he had gone back to Michigan to work things out with his almost-ex-wife. Huh. Imagine that.

Now, I had no romantic interest in this guy, we were just friends, so it’s not like I was upset he was getting back with his wife. On the contrary, I think it’s probably a good thing. What I WAS a little ticked off about was the fact that for all HE knew, I was sitting in my kitchen with dinner waiting for TWO WEEKS while HE went back to Michigan. Seriously. I mean, no “goodbye?” No “Thanks for trying to cheer me up when I was down?” No “It’s been a slice, but gotta go?” Go figure. And not even a forwarding number. So I guess what it comes down to is that he obviously didn’t really give a shit about our friendship at all. Man, I HATE when that happens! OR – oh, wait! Maybe he couldn’t take being around me and knowing he could never have me!! You know, actually, I’m SURE that’s it. I mean, he knew the whole Mr. South Side thing, and was probably pretty curious. But he knew we were just friends, so when his almost-ex came back, he jumped at the chance to try to forget me. Silly me. And here I was worried he DIDN’T like me. He just liked me TOO much, is all.

Yeah, right.

This isn’t the first time something like that has happened to me though, and being the type of person that I am, it REALLY bothers me. I don’t like things that end without closure. And I tend to overanalyze and get all paranoid about what (supposedly) REALLY happened and why I got frozen out. See, when I was in high school and worked in the hospital’s kitchen, my co-workers and I had a little “clique.” Over the years, some of us kept in touch and still went out now and then. Two friends in particular I stayed pretty tight with, G and D. Roxy actually was the flower girl at D’s wedding, and she loved G and D too.

Unfortunately, there was a minor “issue” with myself and G (ok, so it wasn’t that minor, but he WASN’T her boyfriend anyway…) and although I came clean and apologized, things weren’t quite the same. This was about six or so years ago. D, on the other hand, backed me up, because there were extenuating circumstances, and she totally understood. G had some major issues that all of us were concerned about, and D knew that I was sincere in my remorse and stayed true. After all, any friendship that had lasted THIS long (15 or so years) was worth saving. So G slowly started to come around, but still held a MAJOR grudge. She treated me verrrry coolly when we wound up in the same place, and we never talked on the phone anymore, but it seemed we were making some (slow) progress. And the whole time, D and I kept our friendship intact.

Then one day, D called me to tell me that she was pregnant. With twins. I was thrilled, but also somewhat nervous. D had some health issues, which made pregnancy difficult. And when she told me about this pregnancy, she was only about a month along. Of course, I never voiced these concerns to D, I gushed and congratulated and honestly was ecstatically happy for her. We spent the rest of the conversation talking about kids and Roxy and joking about HER having TWINS. Our conversation ended the way they always did, “Well, I’d better get going. Talk to you later!”

And that was the last time I ever spoke to her. This was back in February of 2003. Initially, I had called her a couple times, left messages, and got no returned calls. No biggie, I figured, she was probably busy. I sent her an invitation to Roxy’s Communion and never got an RSVP, so I called again. Still no response. I started getting worried, thinking maybe something happened to her, so I sent her a card. Just a “Hey what’s up” kind of card, with a little note saying I was thinking of her and hoped everything was ok. Nothing. Over the summer, I ran into a mutual acquaintance, and asked her if she had heard from D at all. By this point, I was seriously worried that maybe she had miscarried or something, and was in a deep depression. But no, apparently L had been at D’s baby shower just a couple weeks ago, and everything was fine.

I honestly had NO IDEA what had happened. Every now and then I would try calling again, leave another message, but never got a response. It drives me absolutely INSANE wondering what exactly happened. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with G, but it really bothers me to just be “cut off” with no explanation at all. I mean, come on! Call me and say, “F*** you, b****, I hate you. Leave me alone. I can’t believe you (fill in the blank)!!” THEN I’ll be ok. If I know WHY you are mad, I can try to fix it, or at least try not to do it again to anyone else. If I have NO IDEA why, I’m left in this state of limbo, constantly trying to figure it out. I actually DREAM about her every now and then, it bothers me that much.

I read in our high school newsletter a couple months ago that she has twins – a boy and a girl, going on two years old now. And that made me happy, but it also broke my heart. I’d love to meet her kids. After I read that, I left her a final message, telling her I read about her, and that I hoped she was happy. And that I missed her, and didn’t understand what had happened, but was glad to see she had her family now. When I hung up, I had that stupid head-rush feeling again. You know, the one where you are just so FRUSTRATED and ANGRY, but you can’t do anything about it.

People tell me to just let it go, and I really wish I could. But like I said, I’m the type of person that needs CLOSURE. Maybe someday I’ll find out what happened. Probably not, but who knows?

Oh, and if anyone is even THINKING of comparing me to Mr. South Side because I don’t understand what happened and left her a couple messages over the years, may I remind you of a few facts first:

1. I TOLD Mr. South Side in pretty definite terms that it was OVER, D never told me ANYTHING.

2. MY messages were not the ramblings of a psychotic, they were those of a concerned friend.

3. Lost friendships suck a lot more than lost relationships.

As far as V goes, at least I can kind of grasp his whole thought process, and I guess I can understand it. In a way. It still wasn’t nice to leave without a goodbye, but I won’t take it personally. The whole D thing will mess with my mind until the day I die. And if anyone ever does this to me again, not only will I live in the Victorian house with the cats, but I will never answer the door either.