Stuck in Neutral

I want to write. I WANT to write. I want to write about the party I went to Saturday night, and how it was fun but bittersweet at the same time, because I’m not the same person I was all those years ago. I want to write more of my novel, I want to FINISH my novel, for God’s sake. I want to write about my upcoming reunion, and how I’m really excited to see all the people I went to grade school with, but how I’m also afraid they won’t like who I am now. I want to write about the fact that today is one of my high school best friend’s birthday, but the last time I saw her was a few years ago and we lost touch… which kind of bums me out. I want to write about a documentary I watched the other day on HBO about a girl in Canada who is a crack addict and can’t stop. I want to write about my daughter who is growing up so fast that it is killing me trying to teach her independence and yet protect her at the same time.

I want to write – but I can’t. And all these thoughts in my head are making me crazy just itching to get out, yet my fingers don’t seem to want to cooperate in the typing department. And when they DO – the thoughts get so jumbled they just don’t seem to come out right. At all.

I hate this. I really do. But I can’t force myself to write, therefore I will continue to wait out this drought and hope that someday I can get myself back on track. Soon.

Wow - It's a New Post!

Wow - I didn't realize it had been two weeks again... What's happening to me?? Is it possible to lose your creativity with old age as well as everything else? Dunno, but for whatever reason, writing hasn't exactly been tops on my priority list... Even though there ARE times I really feel like writing, unfortunately those times are usually pretty inopportune, like during a waitressing shift or while I am lying in bed. But I'm not going to apologize, because that seems like a waste of time. Like I tell my daughter, apologies only mean something if you CHANGE the behavior you are apologizing for. And I can't honestly say my bogging will increase, but I can say I will try. Anyway, enough of the small talk.

I didn't quit RL, actually, in talking to the GM I got the write up rescinded and was told that it is "refreshing" to have an employee actually approach the situation with maturity and rationalization rather than just screaming, yelling and complaining. I think I should be flattered, but I also feel old. Actually, I liked it better working at RL when I dated the manager and never had to worry about write-ups... ;) I think the whole situation got blown way out of proportion. Matt, the writer-upper, has been extremely nice and has gone out of his way to make me happy lately. I think he may have been repreimanded for going overboard, but I also think he only wrote me up because he felt as though he needed to "flex his muscles" and remind me who is boss. Silly to get involved in a pissing match with an employee no matter what, if you ask me, but whatever. It is over and done with and I have moved on.

Satan has informed me that he shall continue his reign in Hell until November 30, so now I have an official end date. And no severance. Bummer. Although, I DO get a nice bonus if I stay at least until September 1, which I think I can manage. And he also told me that if I do stay beyond 9/1, until 11/30, that I can bring a book to read or surf the web when I have nothing to do, since it will be pretty slow. So hell (no pun intended), I figure even if I DO find a job before 11/30, I'll make sure my start date isn't until December, cause who doesn't want to get paid for reading books and surfing the net?? Especially if I won't get in trouble for it if I get caught!! ;) Things have been pretty crazy around here lately, though, since he is (yay) leaving for his annual two week spring vacation on the 26th. So as he has done every year at this time, he is dumping ridiculously large loads of work on me and expecting the impossible as far as getting things done. Actually, I really SHOULD be working on files instead of blogging right now, but he isn't in yet, and lately if I feel the need to write and I have the time I need to just DO IT. besides, what's he gonna do, fire me? HA!

Oh my. I actually do have a few really interesting things to share with y'all, but I think I will wait just a bit. A few client stories from here in Hell, tales about grammar school reunion planning, and of course cute nephew and wonderful/impossible daughter stories. But like I said, those will wait. And hopefully keep you coming back. Well, the promise of those stories and the hope that one day you'll see a new Chapter should keep you checking in for I figure a couple more months, right? (I know, I know, BAD DASI. "TBOTE" has officially hit a major roadblock. What can I say? I'm workin' on it!!) Have a great one, later!!

Standing Up for Myself

I can’t remember the last time I was this upset – this FRUSTRATED and ANGRY. I had a really hard time sleeping last night because my mind was racing, going over everything that happened and getting more and more pissed off. And even today, I am still upset. It may sound stupid, and you may think I am overreacting, but I have a tendency to take things like this very seriously. Especially when I feel personally attacked, as I do in this situation. So enough of the prelude, here is what happened.

As you all know, I have been at RL for just over four months now. And I enjoy it. Really I do. But honestly? I am frickin’ exhausted. I am pushing 40 and working over 60 hours a week, 20 plus on my feet running around. But I deal. Because, well, I want/need the money, and I am good at serving. I know this because I am told so by my guests and by my managers. Well, some of the managers, at least. In any case, I have no problem working the hours if the money is there, and Lexie has been a real trooper through the whole transition. Although that, too, has been hard. It’s actually part of the reason for the whole puppy thing, sort of a “keep her busy” project when summer starts. ANYWAY.

On several occasions, I have been in situations where I either have a table finishing or leaving, and no other tables at all. Which means that I hadn’t been “sat” in a while, since my most recent table is ready to leave. When this happens, it is usually a bit later in the evening, or if not, ridiculously slow. So I tend to do my “sidework,” clean off my tables, and look forward to getting home to Lexie. And then: I get sat. And almost immediately after I have greeted this new table, I get told that I am “cut” – which means the hostesses won’t be seating me any more and I am finished for the night – that is, when this new table has eaten, paid, and left. This burns the HELL out of me, and I have told the managers as much on several occasions. For those of you not in the service industry, let me explain why.

Servers do get paid an hourly rate, but their major income is from tips. The hourly rate for servers is currently $3.90 an hour. And The Man takes taxes out of both your hourly wage AND what your tip calculation is, based on your sales for the night. Besides this, servers have to “tip out” both the busboy and the bartender, 10% of your alcohol sales to the bar, and a minimum of $3 to the busboy, generally more if they are extra helpful. So when you have one table at the end of your shift, and no others, you will probably be on the clock for at least another hour – waiting for one tip which generally is about $5 - $7, out of which you may have to tip the bar (if they are drinking) and honestly? My time is worth more than $5 an hour. Especially if it is during the week and I have been working since 8:30 am and have a daughter to get home to. But besides complaining to the managers, there isn’t much you can do. Which REALLY sucks. And? I am not the only server this happens to, and certainly not the only one irritated (to put it lightly) by the whole thing.

So last night is incredibly slow. But even so, I manage to get five tables sat pretty much one after the other – only it is two singles and three deuces. (Even though at RL it is pretty much FORBIDDEN for a server to have more than 3 tables at a time – remember that fact.) All small checks. And due to a mixup with a new server, I end up taking a table that was supposed to be hers – only they had been sitting there for like ten minutes. I do my best to schmooze them and yet? $4 on a $60 check. Yes, dear readers, BAD tip night. Which happens – whatever. So my last two tables are finishing up, one pays and leaves, the other asks for containers for their leftovers. By now it is about 8:30, and we close at 10:00. Not much happening on a Tuesday night. When I come back with the containers, I notice that the hostess is leading an old man to my station. ONE DAMN OLD MAN who has a newspaper, no less. And here I am, sidework done, finishing up my last table at 8:30 on a Tuesday night. I can feel the flushing start in my face, but I calm myself and walk up to the manager in front and ask, “Ok, Matt? Why did they just seat me a single when I have no other tables? I mean, am I going to be cut now and be stuck with just this one guy?”

Matt was a bit flustered – he’s a young guy. “Well, um, I mean, you’re not cut yet… but yeah, probably really soon…”

“Ok, so why seat me a single? I really don’t want to hang around for another hour or two waiting for ONE GUY. Besides, this is the third single I’ve had tonight, and I’ve made no money whatsoever.”

“Yeah, well… see, your station was the most accommodating, so we had to seat it…”

At this point, another server, Jim (bless his heart) jumps in and says, “I’ll take him, dasi.”

But I tell him don’t worry about it, because he is on the other side of the restaurant. I instead approach a closing server, and ask him if he will take the table so I can go home. He is very good about it and understands completely. “Absolutely,” he says. “Why would you want to hang around for a single? I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

I thank him profusely, and finish up the rest of my work.

But then I am accosted my Matt. With a whole “You-can’t-do-that-that-was-your-table-and-you-weren’t-cut-yet-and-I-said-so-and-now-you-broke-the-rules” tirade.

I try to explain my situation, that I gave the table to a closer, which is often done by other servers, and I didn’t see the big deal.

“They’re not supposed to do that either. You weren’t cut, and since you start at 5:30, you have to stay on later to make it fair to the other servers who come in at 4:00 or who work splits.”

Ok, temper: check. Deep breath. “Matt,” I explain calmly, “as Chris (our GM) knows, I work a full-time job during the day. THAT is why I start at 5:30. I am not a kid whose only job is serving. And honestly? I get tired after about twelve hours in a row working. But that’s not the problem – I just do not want to waste my time hanging around for $3.”

More blather about “you can’t do that” and so I agreed that if I found myself in that situation again I would talk to a manager first. “Well, I have something for you before you leave tonight. Don’t leave before you see me,” he warned, and stalked off.

That “something?” A Written Warning. Which blew my mind. I told him and Zach (the other manager on duty) that I did NOT agree with this, that I thought it was unfair, and I was told that I had to sign it, but there was room for my comments. So you bet your sweet ASS I commented.

And after reading my comments, the two managers tried to rationalize and justify the write up by saying “if other servers are doing this too, we need to let them know. This isn’t just about you.” Oh, so I’M the scapegoat?? Was a Written Warning REALLY necessary?? I let them babble about guest service and hostesses needing to know who had what tables and not being fair to anyone else in the restaurant by my “misdeed.” I came back with the problems of “seating-then-cutting” and argued that the process wasn’t fair. The end result? The write-up stuck, but I think I made the managers uncomfortable with my ability to stand up for myself and not just shuffle my feet and mumble “ok, sorry, guys.”

I left with tears burning my eyes because it was so damn HUMILIATING to be treated like a grammar school kid getting a checkmark for bad behavior on their report card, especially by managers at least ten years my junior. And because I STILL don’t think it was fair. And like I said, I couldn’t sleep either, I kept tossing and turning and wondering if it all was worth it. Maybe I forego the new car and buy a used one, maybe we shine the puppy for now, and maybe I put RL in my past permanently. Maybe two jobs IS too much, and I know I DEFINITELY don’t need any more bullshit in my life.

I plan to discuss this with Chris, the GM, before my shift starts today. I have a lot of questions about Matt and Zach’s theories – such as, if they are so worried about guest dissatisfaction by having too many tables per server, why was I sat five tables? And what about when servers rotate in their sections (which they often do)? They don’t tell the managers or hostesses about that, how can they know who has what tables then? And does he really think that I am wrong about the “seat-and-cut” problem? Most importantly, does he think I am not a good server? If he can’t placate me, and make me understand why I should stay, maybe I will end my RL career. Because you know what? I have been through too much in my life to let some power trippy junior managers crush my spirit. Screw that.

Oh – and as far as the day job? Satan says we’re here till November.

Over and out.

Ok, So I'm Weak...

...but who could possible resist this little furball? No, he's not mine. But this is the kind of puppy Lexie and I are getting come June. A Keeshond. Long story on the "why's" and "wherefore's", but suffice it to say my daughter won her long standing battle for a puppy.
I'll give you the details later. A bit busy now - but I wanted to let you all know I'm not dead, either.

Who I Am

Growing up, I often felt “not good enough.” For whatever reason, I always had a hard time being proud of who I was. I always thought people didn’t really like me, boys didn’t really think I was pretty, teachers didn’t really think I was smart. I would get a sick feeling in my stomach when I said something I thought (in retrospect) was “stupid,” or if a friend didn’t call me back after I left a message, or if anyone looked at me in a way I interpreted as disdainful.

Because of this, I had extremely low self-esteem. Which may or may not have caused my life to take the twists and turns it ultimately did. In any case, I wound up pulling myself out of the hellhole I had been calling my life, stopped using drugs, and built a brand new life which I am very proud of. I never pulled any punches when it came to my past, because although it may not be a part of my life I am proud of, it made me who I am today. I have no problem telling people I am an addict, that I have eleven plus years clean. Obviously – or I wouldn’t be writing “TBOTE.” I feel it is a major part of who I am – the lessons learned both while I was “out there” and while I was in the recovery process are important ones. I learned to stand on my own two feet, to claim back my life under my terms, to accept help when I need it but to bust my ass to try to make things work on my own first.

It took all those years and all those experiences to make me strong, to make me accomplished, to make me mature. And yet there is still a part of me that aches when people look at me sideways, intentionally or not, still a part of me that feels that pang of insecurity when confronted with a group of people having a good time and laughing – wondering if they are laughing at me. Sometimes I can convince myself that it doesn’t matter what people think – that I know who I am, and I am a good person. Usually I manage to brush off the insecurities and realize that people like me for me, no matter what my faults are, and that nobody is perfect anyway.

And then I encounter a situation like the one last night and I feel like that stupid little girl again – wondering if I screwed up, feeling that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Even though at the time I thought nothing of it, and honestly still don’t, my parents have a way of making me feel ashamed, and I hate that.

See, some of the younger guy servers were standing around discussing drugs. More specifically, cocaine and crack. Their conversation amused me. One of them was saying how once you got addicted to crack, you were never the same. You were so messed up mentally and physically, that no matter what, you would be obviously scarred for life.

“Really?” I asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Oh, yeah! I have a friend – he is really bad, man. You can just look at him and tell. And he like lost part of his mind, too. He like can’t get a job or anything.”

“So what you’re saying is that if you are addicted to, say, crack, even if you quit, you've pretty much screwed up your whole life?” I inquired.

The other two servers nodded gravely and also explained to me that basically addicts were ruined for life, because anyone could spot them a mile away since they deteriorated physically so extremely. Plus, they killed so many brain cells, they really could barely even form coherent sentences, even after they quit. Oh, and emotionally? They couldn’t bear to socialize with people anymore, they just lived in the dark and pretty much went crazy.

Ok, so maybe it is a good thing that these twenty-somethings truly thought that addiction was that bad. But it still struck me as funny, I mean, come on!

“Ever heard of CA?” I asked nonchalantly.

Initially – a blank look. Then, “Oh, yeah! Cocaine Anonymous, right?”

I smiled sweetly. “Just over eleven years.”

The looks on their collective faces was priceless. One of them shook my hand. “Wow! You? Eleven years clean though, huh? Amazing!”

Yes, me. This thirty-something single mom working two jobs, a slightly overweight but still pretty enough woman who can string together plenty of coherent sentences, the waitress who goes straight home to her daughter after every shift instead of joining the young’uns at the bars… I am an addict. I survived the hell I lived in, and I have no problem talking about it. I mean, I don’t go around saying “Look at me! I used to smoke crack!” but if the subject comes up, I don’t shy away from it. Why should I? I am a good person who made some bad choices. And if I can help other people understand addiction, or if I can stop someone from using by sharing my experience, or if I can plant the seed of recovery into a fellow addict’s mind – well, then, yay me.

But when I got home and called my father, anxious to share my “funny story,” he cut me off.

“You didn’t tell them about you, did you?” he demanded.

The old uncertain me always wanting to please kicked into overdrive. “No, of course not,” I responded meekly, suddenly not thinking it was that funny.

“Good, because people don’t need to know. It changes how they think about you. It’s not something to talk about,” he responded.

I hung up the phone feeling guilty and ashamed. Why did I tell them? I was a bad person, and now they all knew it. I was no longer dasi the nice server, I was dasi the lowlife addict.

But then I started to get angry. Angry at my dad for making me feel that way, and angry at myself for letting him. I called my mom to vent.

“But honey, there are some things you just shouldn’t discuss,” she said gently. “You know, people don’t need to know everything.”

“But mom! It’s ME. A part of MY life. And I may not be proud of it, but I’m certainly not ashamed,” I explained, wanting her to understand.

But she didn’t.

“Yes, well, we certainly aren’t ashamed of you, but it’s just not something you should really discuss with people.”

So sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened. They are ashamed. And even though I have made great strides in my life, even though I beat my addiction and clawed my way into a better life for myself and my daughter, we just "won’t discuss it." Because nice families and good people don’t have addictions.

Well guess what? I DO. And I know I am a good person. And I am NOT ashamed of who I am. I have regrets, but I don’t dwell on them. I have moved forward, and I will continue to do so. I will talk about my history and answer peoples’ questions, and some people may judge me for it, but I don’t care. I refuse to hide who I am to please society or my parents.

I am dasi, and I am an addict. Deal with it.

Don't Mess With Mother Nature

So, ummm… yeah. Apparently it wasn’t enough that fellow bloggers as well as friends in the real world and even my own daughter said I’d be crazy to go to the wake – Mother Nature has made it virtually impossible for me to go anyway.

I think Someone wants me to just leave the past in the past… But you’re right, Hope, it would’ve made a good blog! If I make it home from work in this blinding snow I’ll just snuggle with my daughter (if she’ll let me, she is a pre-teen, after all), eat frozen pizza while watching mindless tv and be grateful for what my life is now.

Rest in Peace, though, Mrs. B, I’m sure Kevin kept you pretty un-peaceful for most of your life, so you’ve earned it…

Old Ghosts

Do I even have the right to ask for help in cyberspace? I mean, since I have been so out of touch with writing and commenting? I hope you guys are still around, because I need advice. And I don’t want to ask anyone here in my real world, because I’m pretty sure I’d know their answers. Which isn’t to say I don’t value the opinions of my family and friends, but I think some of them might “mean well” and be a little too close to the situation to give an unbiased response.

See, quirky person that I am, I read the obituaries pretty much on a daily basis when I get to work. Mainly because if I ever see my own name in there, I am DEFINITELY going home and taking the day off. But I also look for names that I recognize, of old friends, neighbors, teachers, etc. Today I saw a name I recognized.

It was Kevin’s mother.

Kevin from TBOTE - Kevin who I loved (and probably still do in a way) for the almost five years we were together. Kevin who made me laugh and who made me cry. I haven’t seen him in over ten years, but you don’t forget someone like Kevin. Everything we went through together gave us a bond that although eroded over time is still there…

This woman could have been my mother-in-law, had things gone differently. I remember her fondly, she liked me – and told me I was much better for her son than any of the other “bimbos” he dated. She was a spunky Irish woman who baked soda bread and made corned beef and cabbage on St. Patrick’s Day, and smoked and drank like it was going out of style. But even so, she loved her family fiercely, and always told it like it was. She was a real piece of work.

The Irish Catholic in my blood tells me it is only proper to go to the wake, since I knew her well (even though it was so long ago) – anyone who is an Irish Catholic knows that even if you just recognize a person’s name, you go to their wake. It’s a no-brainer. Irish Catholics probably spend about one-quarter of their lives attending wakes and funerals, it’s just the way we are.

Besides, I want to see Kevin.

I want to see him, even though my stomach is churning as I type and I actually feel lightheaded. My life has done a 180 since I last saw him, and I’m hoping his has as well. I want to look him in the eye one more time and say a sober goodbye. Part of me is terrified that he is my “trigger,” that one moment with him could catapult my life right back to where it was ten years ago, but the logical part of me knows that won’t happen. I am older, stronger, and wiser. I have a life, a job and a daughter. Too much to ever lose.

I would be lying if I said I had no feelings for him anymore. Because I do. He loved me, and I loved him, and despite the hell we went through, we also had some really good times. He took care of me the best he knew how, and I am grateful for that. At the end, it wasn’t him I left, the Kevin I knew had been ravaged alive by drugs and alcohol. My Kevin was gone. And maybe I want to see him to find out if any of my Kevin has returned. And maybe if I do see him, and he hasn’t changed, my heart will break a little more but I will be able to lock the door on that chapter of my life.

In any case, the wake is tomorrow. And as fate would have it, I am not scheduled to work at RL. Which means I can go. But should I?

By Popular Demand...

Well, actually not really "popular demand" - but my aunt DID ask me to post some pictures of my perfect godson, who is getting cuter every day. And I thought, "Gee, what a great idea! I can show off my nephew and add a new post all at the same time!!" So this is just a photo post, which hopefully will attract more people and give me time to write something substantial...
Here he is just basically looking cute - ten months old. Hard to believe he'll be a year old in February already!! JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!!! And he loves the cast of "Rudolph" just like his dad... I actually bought those as a Christmas gift for Bob a couple years ago.
Finally, my two babies. One isn't really a baby anymore though, is she?? I just love the way Erik is looking at his cousin. You can tell they adore each other.

Well, that's it for now. Time to work on work - then maybe some real writing for the blog! ;)

In Case You Were Wondering

You know, it’s really kind of hard to act like I really care about anything that goes on in this stupid office now that I know I have exactly 52½ days left of employment. 50½, really, if you take out the two vacation days I am using to visit my friend in DC next weekend. Oh, that’s right – I didn’t tell you. Well, that’s ok, cause Satan hasn’t told me either. So basically, I am just counting my severance days until he does. Ha!

I can’t figure out why exactly he hasn’t told me that he has already told the management of the building he is vacating the office as of March 31st, the Satan I know wouldn’t pay out severance so easily unless he absolutely HAD to. Of course, my other thinking is that the Satan I know is also extremely paranoid about me leaving him high and dry before he can tie up loose ends… OR not really giving a shit about the clients or my work – which is happening anyway, since I know what he thinks I don’t.

You following me here?

Nice attorney can’t afford to keep me on, which I kind of figured anyway, but at least he told me that up front. Satan just has me in a kind of “employment limbo,” and like I said, I don’t want to ask him anything for fear he will say, “Oh, yes, March 31st is it” leaving me losing out on any additional severance. So I just keep pretending like everything is normal and acting like I am working hard (not) until he finally admits that the end is near. Because I ain’t going nowhere until he closes shop. I want my severance. And at this rate, I just may get the full three month’s worth – who knows, he may wait to tell me until March 30th…

RL is still going very well – tips are good (of course – I am, after all, an AWESOME server) and my coworkers keep me entertained. Although I was pretty offended while watching “Grease – You’re the One That I Want” last night (on tivo, of course – and I really didn’t enjoy it too much… it’s no “American Idol”) because one of the girls auditioning was getting ready for her “day job” and complained that being a waitress stunk – as she pinned on her RL nametag. OBVIOUSLY she doesn’t work with fun people like I do. Either that or she’s a bitch and nobody likes her. Or maybe she has no people skills and gets crappy tips. In any case, I think it was pretty rude of her to imply that RL stinks. I hope she gets fired for saying that on national tv. Even if I was possibly the only one watching.

Speaking of tv, my viewing habits have taken a drastic hit. Working between 55-65 hours a week leaves me precious little time for my friends in tv land. Don’t get me wrong – this doesn’t stop me from continuing to tivo everything under the sun. As a matter of fact, I just got a NEW tivo which can actually record TWO SHOWS AT ONCE!! Imagine that!! I don’t even have to pick and choose anymore! (Except for Sunday nights. I still can’t record “Desperate Housewives” because I have to record “The Apprentice” and “Beauty and the Geek” – and yes, I know “Beauty and the Geek” is on Wednesdays as well, but then it is on opposite “American Idol” and “Friday Night Lights,” therein leaving me no choice but to record it on Sundays and watch “DH” on the internet. I know. Thank you for your sympathy.) So I put the old tivo in my bedroom – and I can transfer shows from the living room to my bedroom!! How cool is that??? So now I am literally losing sleep because I sit up in bed trying to catch up on my shows… Pathetic really, but you have to admit an addiction to tv is much better than any of the old addictions I had – and it’s legal. Currently, my list of “unwatched shows” is as follows:

· Ellen DeGeneres – 6 episodes
· All My Children – ½ episode
· General Hospital – 1 episode
· Brothers & Sisters – 2 episodes
· What About Brian – 2 episodes
· I Love New York – 1 episode
· White Rapper – 1 episode
· Real Housewives of Orange County – 1 episode
· The Apprentice – 1 episode

And by the end of today, another episode of Ellen and each soap will be on the list, and prime time adds American Idol, Friday Night Lights, and Medium. Oh, snap! The Knights of Prosperity, too! That show is a hoot. Can’t miss that one.

I told you, I have a serious problem. Albiet one I don’t care to do anything about. Life would be too dull without the escapades of the residents of Pine Valley and Port Charles – or those hospital interns at County General and Seattle Grace – or the trailer trash and Dunder Mifflin employees… I could go on forever. And? “Lost” and “Heroes” start again soon! And “Amazing Race – All-Stars!!” And “The Shield!!!” And all the HBO shows!!!! Oh, wait… I gave up HBO, that’s right. Oh well, I’ll just have to wait for the DVDs of “The Sopranos,” “Big Love” and “Entourage” for this coming season.

Ok, so now that you know how pathetic my life really is. And no, I swear, it hasn’t been tv that has kept me from blogging. So don’t blame my boob-tube buddies. “TBOTE” is nearing the end of its hiatus – I came thisclose to actually putting some words on paper the other day. But as quickly as the itch came – it went. But lately it is lurking in the recesses of my mind and I think I may actually accomplish some real writing soon… especially since I could care less about working my nine-to-five that will soon be my ex-nine-to-five… Heh.

Well, if anyone is even reading this anymore, thanks for your continued support and patronage. Dasi out. (Yeah, overload on “American Idol” last night, sorry.)

What's Really Important

So on Christmas Eve, my uncle passed away suddenly. The odd thing was, it seemed almost surreal. He had been in a nursing home for years, suffering with dementia. I hadn’t even seen him in I can’t remember how long. Still, he was my uncle, and I have fond memories from when I was growing up, and of course, I loved him.

He was my father’s sister’s husband, and he was a good man. At the funeral, a different aunt gave a beautiful eulogy all about his life – meeting my aunt, raising my cousins… I got a different perspective of the man he was, and learned some things I had never known. Then my other aunt, his wife, got up and spoke. It was then that pretty much the whole church lost it.

She explained that the man in the casket wasn’t her husband – that her husband had been gone for a long time now. That as much as she loved him, she was glad that he had finally found peace – that they all could have peace now. And that she truly believed that his final gift to her was bringing her whole family together at Christmas.

You see, her one son, my cousin, hadn’t been to a family function in years. About four, I think. I’m not really sure of what exactly happened, but whatever it was it was enough to piss people off to the extent of doing the whole “I’m not talking to you” thing. But obviously, he was at his father’s wake and funeral. With his wife and two beautiful daughters in tow. I can’t tell you how great it was to see him there. Any bad feelings seemed to have melted away. There was a lot of talk about “never letting the family break apart again” and exchanging of phone numbers between numerous cousins. And really, I think everyone meant it.

Sometimes it seems people take so much for granted in life. I know I am guilty of forgetting to return phone calls, making plans that never seem to pan out, promising to e-mail or write or call and neglecting to do so because “I’ve just been so busy!” But what most of us don’t seem to realize is that time is so precious, and family and friends even more so…

Death is usually never expected, and yet although we all know that someday the people we love will die, when it happens it still causes a pain that is almost unbearable. And it often leads to regrets, and sometimes guilt – “I wish I had called him/her more often,” “You know, I had planned on visiting just last week, but something came up…” “I never said I love you.”

I don’t want to have any regrets. I want everyone in my life to know how much they mean to me – and how much I love them. I want to spend time with my family and friends and laugh and reminisce and make new memories. I never want to feel like keeping in touch is a chore, or making time for family and friends is a hassle. I want to make the most out of every minute I have.

So I guess this is kind of my New Year’s Resolution, as well. To all my cousins whose numbers I got at the luncheon – I am going to call, and we will get together. To all my cyberpals – you mean so much more to me than any of you know. Your comments and your own writings put a smile on my face every day and let me know you care. And to all my family and “real” friends reading this – I love you all. And how about lunch someday soon? Finally, to Uncle Don – rest in peace. And thank you for opening my eyes to what is really important in life.

This is Really Getting Old...

When did writing become a chore rather than something I enjoy? I’ve never been good at doing what I’ve been told, and when I feel like I HAVE to do something, it ultimately becomes something I no longer want to do. I know that technically there is no one standing over me forcing me to write, but still – I feel almost as though there is. So the words still won’t come.

It’s actually scaring me a little… because writing is the one thing in life I know I can do – and do well. If I lose that, then what?

I may be unemployed as of January 1st, which actually would be preferable by me than the alternative: continuing working through the end of March but then receive no severance. At least if a transfer happens on 1/1, I would get my three months’ severance and have that time to find something new. And maybe rest. And maybe write.

I don’t think I am depressed – on the contrary, I am too blasé about the thought of being unemployed to be depressed. Actually, even if I lose my day job, I’ll still be employed. Waitressing may not be my career of choice, but it’ll do if it has to temporarily.

I think my mind is just on overload right now. That has to be it. Between work, work, Lexie, the holidays, and the drudgery of daily life there doesn’t seem to be an unoccupied space in my creative genius of a mind right now. I’ll need to make some room in there soon…

And I truly appreciate all your kind words and thoughts while I am in repose – even though I am also slacking in the comments department, I still am reading all of you regularly. And still enjoying every word I read.

So… I guess this is just another poor excuse for a post. My apologies – again.

Much Ado About Nothing

I… just… can’t… DO IT!!!!! I don’t know why, but I just CAN’T write more TBOTE. At least, not now. I mean, it’s all there (duh – I lived it), I just can’t get it on paper. Or blog, for that matter. I guess this is my first very severe case of writer’s block. Thank God I am not under some sort of deadline or I’d really be screwed. I realize I am letting people down, and that I am sooo overdue on a chapter it is bordering on pathetic, but it just isn’t happening. Every time I read the last chapter I wrote, I just sit there and stare at the last sentence and think, “Ok, here we go…” only, nothing happens. Maybe if I stop trying so hard… In any case, I have a feeling this may take some time. Sorry, but that’s the chance you take when you read a work in progress – the possibility that there is no progress!! Sigh. This really sucks.

Things are NOT looking very good at the office, either. Nice attorney has packed up everything in his office and asked me if I could help him transfer all his files onto a disc from the hard drive. Ummmmm, sure… You going somewhere, buddy? He wasn’t very straightforward, but did mention that he had nowhere near the amount of money Satan wanted for a buyout. Then he asked me when his last check would be if he worked through the last day of the year. Definitely NOT a good sign. The fact that I am covered for at least three months is nice, but three months isn’t all that long in the grand scheme of things. And then there is the worry that if nice attorney leaves on the 31st, Satan will expect me to do M’s work, my work, AND nice attorney’s work (what I can do without a law degree, at least) so he can wrap things up here – and tell me in advance I’ll be gone in three months, which would keep me working until the bitter end with (technically) no severance at all. THAT would really suck. And yet? Not really feeling the stress right now. I’m probably in denial or something.

RL is still going well, although I seem to have a problem with the busboys. Vicious circle, actually. See, when I started my actual serving on my own, I wasn’t making a whole hell of a lot since I could only have two tables at a time. Hence, I only tipped out the busboys the minimum. Apparently they now think that I am a cheap bitch, and make no effort to help me out at all – I essentially wind up doing everything “busboy-ish” except for wiping down the table. Which pisses me off, and makes me continue to tip them minimally. And I’m assuming that pisses them off, so they continue to not help. See what I mean? I tried talking to the one decent busser (who I tip well since he is so AWESOME) and according to him, I shouldn’t worry, because most of them are lazy kids anyway. So I guess I’ll just keep busting my ass and keeping ALL of my tip money myself. Whatever.

On a final note, I actually did it. I cut my hair. Well, I didn’t cut it, but you know what I mean. Just about ten inches off – it’s now just past my shoulders. So it is still “long,” just not ridiculously long. And I love it. If I ever get a decent picture taken, I’ll post it so you all can see.

Well, that’s about it, I guess. Satan is due in any minute, and I should do some actual work while I still have a job, I guess. Kind of funny, really, since I am starting to care less and less about the work that has to be done since it seems it’s all coming to an end, anyway… Oh well. I guess I should look on the bright side – maybe I’ll recover from my writer’s block if I’m unemployed and bored… or maybe I’ll just start watching even more tv…

RL Redux

Well hello there!! Good to see you all again! I can't believe I've neglected this poor blog for a full two weeks, but alas, it's true. I have been pathetically lax in my posting, and even though I did say that this would happen, I still feel guilty. The thing is, I have been insanely busy, and when I'm not busy... well, I really don't feel like writing. Which explains the lack of Chapters, as well. Hopefully I'll get inspired to continue on that in the near future, since I swore I would eventually finish. And start a second book. Lofty goals for one who is so cavalier about her writing, I know, but it'll happen...

Anyway, I am loving my waitressing job. Even though I am one of the old fogeys now. No one even invites me out after work on the weekends!! I mean, sure, I wouldn't go anyway, but it would be nice to be asked. Last night I was listening to the young servers (you know, all the twenty-somethings with no dependents...!) talking about who made out with whom, who got drunk and passed out, who was texting so-and-so in the middle of the night... it made me laugh. A lot. Because it reminded me of my old days at RL - and yes, fun days they were. But the reality is that pretty much all I believe I am capable of nowadays is listening to their escapades, rather than actually participating. Funny thing is, I bet their partying jaws would hit the floor if they knew even half of my stories... which I think I'll keep to myself for now. Maybe someday I'll go out for one night just to observe the species in their natural habitat. Could be fun.

Of all the managers in the restaurant, only one is older than me, and it's only by a few months. The others are all about ten years younger. THAT freaks me out. I've never worked for anyone younger than myself, and I kind of feel like "yeah, right, kiddo - like I'm going to listen to your young-ass" but then I remember that that young-ass is my boss. Very weird.

And? Lots of cute boys. So all my young cyber gal-pals should definitely come out and have dinner here at the RL in Schaumburg. Because I could be arrested if I indulge. Well, probably not, but they all seem like nice boys that I am wayyyyy too old for. Even the one who looks like Justin Timberlake.

Wait - WHAT? Did I say that there is a waiter in my RL who looks like Justin Timberlake? Yes, I did. And given my feelings for Justin, I was initally a bit distracted. Especially when a busboy splattered the back of his shirt with French dressing and he asked me, "Do I have dressing all over my back?" and I kindly wiped it all away with a damp towel. Hopefully he didn't notice the slight tremor in my aging hand. Because like Justin, he is all of 23, and I am too old to be playing with boy toys. (And I will continue to tell myself that until my twisted brain accepts it.) Anyway, the more I get to know the guy, the more I like him - in a strictly platonic way. I'm beginning to feel like the older sister (I refuse to say "mother" cause I'm not that old) of these youngsters, and I really hope they don't all think I'm this old lady geek trying to be cool, cause I'm so NOT. Like I have to try to be cool. Heh.

As far as my "real" job - well, I still don't know much. So I really have nothing to share. Except for this discovery I made recently - Satan has been living a double life. Seriously. And I think I will end this entry with proof of this...

Here is Satan as I know him:


And here is his Alter-Ego...

You be the judge...

Unexpected Changes

So yeah, I guess I have some issues that need to be addressed. I really shouldn’t post blogs without resolutions if I plan on being on “sabbatical,” sorry! So – I start training at Red Lobster tonight. I am actually very nervous since it HAS been almost 20 years (10 since actually waitressing) and I keep replaying horrible scenarios in my head, such as dropping things, getting too overwhelmed, or fellow employees hating my guts. Hopefully none of those things will happen, and training will go smoothly.

Second, the car. I went to see my Prince Charming Mechanic, and he checked out my engine (hee hee – that sounds kinky – but really, it was the car’s engine…). He told me it is running smoothly, and it is probably my O2 regulator, something that doesn’t even have to be addressed immediately. He said it may stall occasionally but it won’t hurt the engine or blow up or anything, and I could bring it back for him to check out at my convenience. That it’s probably just a matter of cleaning it out and sending me on my merry way. So I will probably do that in the next few weeks when I have time. And I will keep dreaming of the pretty new Toyota RAV4 I really really want to buy come tax return time.

My birthday was nice – quiet, but nice. No big bar bash this year. Pretty low key. My girlfriends from the bowling alley (AKA the “bowling moms”) took me to dinner on Friday and I was home by 11:00. Then on Saturday I went to dinner with my mom, my bro, and Lexie. Erik was a little under the weather, so my sis-in-law had to stay home with him. We had a really nice dinner at Harry Caray’s, and I even had a steak bone to take home for Cute Neighbor’s dog. Like I said, really low-key. But I think as I get older, I appreciate that more sometimes. Not really up for doing shots and puking all night, you know?

Believe it or not, Satan gave me a decent bonus on Thursday, which shocked the hell out of me (no pun intended). He sat me down and told me how much he appreciated all my hard work, and what a great job I was doing since M left. I was pretty pleased, and of course the extra cash came in handy big time. Then today he calls me back into his office to tell me that he may be closing the office in three months. I sat there with a frozen grin on my face – because he HAD to be kidding, right? Guess not. He has decided he wants to stop practicing, and has offered the other attorney J the opportunity to take everything over. Problem is, J may not be able to do so, financially or otherwise. Supposedly, Satan is still uncertain to the long term future, but assured me that no matter what, I would get either a three month notice or a three month severance if he closes and J doesn’t take over or doesn’t keep me on. Of course, he stressed that J would certainly want to keep me since I am such a stellar employee, but it depends on lots of unknowns at this point. “In two weeks, I should have a better idea of what will happen,” he tells me. Wonderful. So in two weeks, I can justify this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Apparently, J had no idea this was going to happen either. He is a super sweet, great guy who has two sons in college and a daughter in high school. I know this is totally stressing him out as well, and honestly? I have no clue if he would even WANT to own the practice. He told me he will keep me updated and be as up front as possible, which I appreciate. Now, in the big picture this should be a blessing in disguise, since I have said all along how much I can’t stand Satan etc etc., but there are other things to consider. First of all, I would never ever find another legal position close to home that paid what I make now. Satan may be an asshole, but he does pay well. So that would mean I would have to find a job downtown, which would kill my waitressing job since I’d never be back here in time to work at RL. Plus, it would be a real pain in the ass to be downtown and be so far from home. The ideal would obviously be for J to take over and for us to run the office together and work happily ever after, but I have this really bad feeling that he will wind up heading downtown as well.

Just what I need, right? New stress just when I think things are going my way. It figures.

And as far as “TBOTE,” I will make no apologies for the fact that I haven’t written a new chapter in a month. Know why? Because even though I realize it may someday be my bread and butter – it’s not right now and I seem to be having a bit of a problem focusing on things other than working and cars and money and bills. I will definitely write more chapters, but I can’t make any promises as to when at this point. Hell, I can’t even promise when my next regular post will be. Lord knows the writing is cathartic and I should do it more, but sometimes I just don’t have it in me.

So that is where dasi’s life stands right now. I figure in two weeks when I get more news, I may feel like blogging again (heh)… then again, based on the news, maybe not. But the least I can do is let you know my employment status so you all don’t worry too much (cause I KNOW you’ll worry, right??) so I promise to let you know as soon as I do what’s going on. And in the meantime, don’t forget about me – because in the words of Arnold “I’ll be back!”

Little Repair Shop of Horrors

So about my car…

I have a cute little 97 Saturn SC2. First car I ever bought ENTIRELY by myself – about five years ago. Aside from a few oil leaks (drips, actually. That left a yukky mess on the driveway, though) my little Saturn has treated me pretty well. Oh, except for the fact that the sunroof is permanently shut. Because it USED to be permanently open, and when I had to choose between the two, well… Of course, now if it rains torrentially, it DOES leak just a smidge on the passenger side from said sunroof… And the speakers are a little on the blown out side, I mean, I can hear the radio (or the CDs I play), but it’s more like listening to a transistor radio than a STEREO. BUT, with 113,000 miles, it still runs and it’s paid off and those are the two most important things, right?

Let’s continue. About a month ago, I drove out to a friend’s house which was about a 30 minute drive. We had a nice visit, then Lexie and I left. As we were driving, I thought “Hmmmm – I thought I had more gas than this,” but thought nothing of it and hopped on the highway to go home. We stopped at a gas station where I filled up the tank and thought “Hmmmmm – my car usually doesn’t take THIS much gas,” but again – blew it off. We stopped in a store and when we came back to the car, I noticed a pretty strong smell of gas. When we backed out of our spot, there was a HUGE puddle under where the front of my car was. I asked Lexie if she smelled gas too (yes) and if she noticed if said puddle was there before we parked (not sure). So I pulled into a different spot, sat a few minutes, and backed out again. SHIT! Another huge puddle. Obviously something was leaking. So, I drove home.

When I got home I decided to park the car on the street rather than in my driveway – you know, because it was leaking. Lo and behold, Cute Neighbor was outside with his girlfriend. I asked Cute Neighbor to look at my car and tell me what was leaking. Well, Cute Neighbor looked at it and freaked out, explaining my car had a leak in the gas line and I was lucky that it didn’t explode on the way home. That driving a car with a leak in the gas line is EXTREMELY DANGEROUS because any spark could ignite it. (Huh. Go figure. Good thing I quit smoking three years ago.) He told me I needed to have it towed right away to a repair shop and have it fixed. Since it was late Friday night, I figured I would wait until Saturday morning, and hope no one tossed a lit cigarette by my car before then.

So AAA came in the wee hours of the am and towed it to a shop we’ll call “Randy’s.” (Yeah, I know, I’m being pretty subtle, right??) I told Randy’s to fix the gas line leak, and while they were at it, to fix the oil leak as well, since my baby had been leaking oil for quite a while now. Not GUSHING oil, mind you, but enough to make a mess of my driveway over time. Had to rent a car for the weekend, and the long and short of it was that Randy’s had my car until the following Tuesday and the total bill was $1,236.31. After my nifty “$250 off” coupon, I paid $986.31. Pretty much a “Holy SH**!” moment, but what choice did I have? So I leave with my fixed car and am happy.

Temporarily.

Over the following weekend, I notice my car is smoking from the hood. I notice this as I am in stop-and-go traffic on the highway. And I ALSO notice something smells kind of off, but I’m not sure if it is my car or something outside my car. When I get home that night, I pop the hood and try to see if anything looks like it is burning, but all looks well. On Monday, there is more smoke and more smells. I call Randy’s and they tell me to bring it in, which I can’t because I have to work. They tell me to bring it in on Saturday so they can check it out for me. Fine.

On Tuesday, I have a thought. Maybe I’ll check the oil. Silly as I think that is, since they FIXED the oil leaks and just put FIVE QUARTS of oil in a week before. But I can’t help that nagging feeling… Sure enough, bone frickin’ dry. I buy five more quarts, put two in right away, and stash the rest in my trunk. Then I call Randy’s again, and explain the situation. What do they tell me? “You’d better put oil in it right away, then!” DUH! I tell them I did, but that there must STILL be a leak, and so I plan on putting in a quart at a time until Saturday.

Saturday comes, and I drop off the car again. This time when they call back, they explain that they made a mistake, and they needed to install a new oil thingamgiggy which they didn’t do at the first visit. That since it was their fault, they wouldn’t charge for labor, only for the part. Which was $600.00, give or take. As I feel my chest constrict, I manage to spit out – “Ok, do what has to be done.”

About 20 minutes later they call back. “How long was your car running without oil?” they accuse. “I don’t know!” I retort. “I mean, you DID just put FIVE QUARTS in and had SUPPOSEDLY fixed the leaks, so until I checked it on Tuesday, I had no idea it was even low!! WHY WOULD I???” This was a lead in for the next bombshell – my engine was shot. And I needed a new one.

Before my mind wrapped itself around that information, I was quickly assured that since they made the mistake, I wouldn’t be charged for the new (rebuilt) engine or the labor for that either, but it would take about a week. I would only be paying for any upgrades and that $600 oil thingamagiggy. Whatever – do it. What choice did I have?

So a week later, I return the rental car (oh, yes, they paid for that baby) and pick up my “like new” car. With my “like new” engine that has (supposedly) 40,000 less miles on it than my old one. Like they were giving me this huge gift or something. I paid the new bill to the tune of $642.62 (“Boy, we really kept your bill low!”) and left.

Next day? The damn car stalled. Three times. And had NO pickup at all. AND? The “Service Engine Soon” light came on. Instead of going back to Randy’s immediately, I called a friend whose husband is a mechanic. I drove it out to him, he said he couldn’t see anything wrong with it, but that he didn’t have any diagnostic equipment either. He suggested trying some fuel injector cleaner. Did that, didn’t help. So what choice did I have? I called back Randy’s.

Their response? “You’d better get it back in as soon as possible so you don’t ruin our engine!” Wait a minute – YOUR engine??? PUH-LEASE!!! Brought it back last night, rented another car (this time on my own dime) and got a call this morning. “Well, it’s not our engine,” (again with the OUR ENGINE BS) he tells me, “It’s your EGR valve and O2 sensor. You need those taken care of right away. Now, I called on the part, it runs about $700, but tell you what, I’ll give you a $200 discount.” WHAT?????? I told him (in a freakishly high panicky stressed out voice) that I had NO money left and I couldn’t AFFORD $500. And how could those things have “suddenly” gone bad? I never had problems before!

He explained that it was an emmissions thing, and that “these things happen” with older cars. But they had nothing to do with it. I told HIM I just had my emmissions test and my car passed with flying colors. But he insisted that was the problem. I told him not to touch my car and I would call him back.

After calling both my parents and my brother and crying and panicking and thinking irrationally, I finally called another mechanic that my friend had told me about. And guess what?

He laughed at me.

He told me Randy’s was notorious for that kind of crap and I was lucky to get the engine out of them. He told me there was no way an EGR valve would cost $500, and besides, if I was planning on only keeping the car a few more months, there was no need for a new one. He told me he could clean out the carbon in ten minutes and not even charge for it – that all I needed was for the car to run smoother, right? And he also asked if I could bring the Randy’s receipts for him to look at, because he never heard of any oil thingamagiggy that cost $600.

He said that IF there is anything that does absolutely, positively need to be fixed, he’ll take care of it, but he doubts it is anything that would run even near $100. That even with a messed up EGR valve, the car may be annoying to drive since it stalls, but it won’t blow up or ruin the engine in the few months I plan on keeping it. So I am getting my car from Randy’s tonight after work and bringing it to my Car Mechanic Prince tomorrow morning at 8:00 am. I don’t even know this guy, but I think I love him.

Oh, and? When I called Randy’s to tell them to leave my car alone, I’ll pick it up tonight, they again warned how “serious” this is. And how they offer “90 days same as cash” plans. Yeah, I bet. Well, guess what, Randy’s? You’ve taken enough of my money. And you’re not getting another penny. I’M SO SORRY, CAR!!! Let’s hope my prince comes through.

Feeling Helpless

First of all – yay! – I got the job. I have orientation tonight and start training next week. Which is awesome, since Saturday is my birthday and I have plans for both Friday and Saturday nights but didn’t want to start off the new job saying “by the way…” I’m a little nervous, since I haven’t done any actual waitressing for like, oh, ten years or so, but I’m pretty sure it’s like riding a bike (something else I haven’t done in ten years or so – bad analogy for me, I guess!). In any case, keep your fingers crossed for me, because I need the extra cash to save for a new car. What? Why do I need a new car, you ask?? Next blog, I promise. Because today I have something major on my mind.

I’m sure all of you out there have someone special in your life. Not necessarily a significant other, I’m talking about someone (be it a relative, friend, co-worker, etc.) who you just click with – someone you can talk to about anything, someone you know will ALWAYS be there for you when you need them and vice versa. Someone who can make you laugh when you are pissed off at the world, and someone you can make laugh as well. Someone you just know would never judge you, who you feel so damn comfortable with you know you would be lost without. Maybe you see and talk to that person all the time, maybe not as much as you’d like, but either way, just knowing they are out there is sometimes enough.

Now imagine that person taking a loaded gun and putting it to their head in a game of Russian Roulette.

I apologize for the harshness of this – but it needs to be said. My someone special (who I know is reading this) is doing just that. And I can’t even bring myself to think of what my life and the lives of the rest of her family and friends will become when she loses the “game.” Which is what it is to her right now. She may not have an actual gun to her head, per se, instead she is messing with her heart. And not in the emotional sense, either. Her doctors have been asking – no, begging – her to have additional tests run… saying she is at risk of a major heart attack or stroke if she doesn’t find out what is going on with her ticker. She’s already had one scare, and I’m so afraid the next one will be much more than just a scare.

Right now, her excuse is that she wants to wait until her husband has his procedure – not too far off, but with the heart, every second counts. And as serious as his procedure is, even the doctors say her condition is much more serious and life-threatening.

But I know what the problem is. She is scared. No, she is terrified. And she should be. Although she shouldn’t be afraid of finding out what is wrong, she should be afraid of what will happen if she doesn’t. I love her so much, it is killing me knowing that she would rather hide than face reality.

And it is pissing me off. Because she is being selfish, too. She is putting her fears ahead of her health and totally disregarding everyone else’s fears – the fear that she will die if she doesn’t listen to the doctor. And you know what? To me, that is just as bad as suicide. If you ignore the medical help being offered and just wait for that one twinge, or that one gasp for breath – you are in essence just slowly killing yourself. And guess what? Been there, done that. Thought about it, tried it, changed my mind. Know why? Because I couldn’t imagine how the people left behind would deal. Yup, conceited me thought my loved ones might be a bit upset at my passing – and thank God I chose that moment to start being a bit more unselfish. When I think of all I would’ve missed had I succeeded twenty-some odd years ago… It gives me the chills. And makes me a lot less tolerant of people who think they don’t matter and would be better off gone.

I don’t know what to say or do to convince her to listen to the doctors, get the tests run – do whatever they say. She is a grown woman and has her own mind and can make her own decisions. But for me, it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for a phone call telling me she is in the ER, or worse, the morgue. And I can’t even imagine dealing with that – now or ever. I know eventually I probably will, but what’s the rush? I’m expecting at least a good twenty or forty more years together – and if we make it much past that, then we can find our cliff.

I love you so much. But dammit – you know you can’t jump without me.

Happy Halloween!

So I filled out the application, took a written test (!), had one interview, and have a final interview on Thursday. Who knew getting back into Red Lobster would be so difficult?? Twenty years ago, it was like, "Ok, you want a job? Great - start next week." Apparently they are a bit more picky about their employees now! But on a good note, when I went in for the first interview, I ran into one of the waitresses I used to work with. She remembered me, and it was great to see her. She told me that she has now been with RL for 25 years. And? She had seen Tandy quite a bit up until about 6 years ago. I told her about my dreams, and she said last she knew, he was doing ok, no longer with the anesthesiologist though. Anyway, she told me she would put in a good word - even though she remembered I was "let go" way back when. "That was SO long ago - they'll never know" she told me. "Don't even worry about it!" So, I'm not. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and will have news for you on Thursday.

Now down to real business - HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! I'm not really big on dressing up myself, but I enjoy seeing other people's costumes. Especially kids'. ESPECIALLY really really cute kids, like, say, oh, I don't know - my godson, maybe??
And how funny is this? Erik is my godson - and his father, my moronic baby brother, apparently is God. For one day at least. He just thinks he is the rest of the year...!
Finally, although Lexie is officially going to be "Just-Woke-Up-Pajama-Girl" with her friend, she had to emulate her Uncle and try being God herself for a few minutes...
Hope everyone enjoys the pictures - and don't eat too much candy!

Resurfacing...

So today at lunchtime I plan on going over to the local Red Lobster to apply for a waitressing position. Just to supplement my income until I finish my book and get really really rich, of course. Funny thing is, my daily cell-phone horoscope said something along the lines of "somthing you thought had left your life resurfaces..." That made me kind of chuckle, since Red Lobster was a huge part of my life, oh, about 20 or so years ago. See, I worked there forever ago, and absolutely loved it. I was a cashier, which they phased out eons ago (shows how long it's been!), and didn't necessarily love the work, but I loved the people. Made a lot of friends back in the RL days - as a matter of fact, my best friend was my manager. Of course, she was my manager first, the best friend part came later. But I'm glad it did - she is awesome.

I don't really keep in touch with any of my old coworkers except for her and of course, my brother (yup, got him a job there too) but I think of them a lot. I wrote about Tandy a while ago, and there were lots of others I'd really like to know about. Back then, when I was young, thin, and pretty I had a lot of admirers at work too. One in particular that I dated for three whole months until his mother decided I wasn't good enough for her son (read: I wasn't Italian). Bottom line - it was fun going to work and flirting. And the women were fun, too - just so you don't think I was that sleazy girl who hated women - actually, a lot of us would hang out after work and have a few (or a lot of) drinks at the bowling alley down the street.

Anyway, now that I am an old lady with a daughter, I doubt I will be as crazy as I was back when I originally worked at Red Lobster, but I still think it will be fun. It takes a certain kind of person to deal with the restaurant biz, and those people are usually pretty cool. So I really hope I get this job. It'll be hard holding down a full-time and part-time job, I know, and I've already talked to Lexie about it, but I think in the long run it will be worth it. I'd really love to pay off some bills and just be able to breathe financially, you know? And waitressing is something I've enjoyed and was good at. So hopefully I'll be able to work a few shifts a week and bring home a few extra hundred a month and not kill myself in the process.

I guess I'll find out soon if Red Lobster is ready for dasi again...!

Magic Man

I don't know about any of you, but I LOVE magic. Which is why I absolutely had to share this little video from YouTube... Magic Man. If you don't laugh as loud or as long as I did, you definitely need to get professional help.

The Beginning of the End, Part 39

THE END. Just kidding! Proceed:

When I got back to the room, Kevin apparently was just finishing up with the packing. All the lights were on, and all the drawers were open. I stood in the doorway slack-jawed as I watched him coaxing Schmauser out from under the bed. He wrapped our little furball in a towel and passed him to me.

“Here,” he said. “Get in the car – I’ve already got it loaded up.”

And sure enough, he did. All of our worldly goods were crammed into the back seat – and I was assuming the trunk as well. I tried to protest, I wanted to double-check myself, but Kevin assured me he had cleaned the place out.

“Trust me, I got everything,” he emphasized. “The last thing I want to do is leave behind any clues about us or where we’re going.”

He jumped in the mustang and miraculously, it started with the first try. The tires screeched loudly in the night and Schmauser let out a wail of protest as Kevin backed out of the parking spot and threw the car into drive. With a lurch that sent me almost into the windshield, we headed out of the parking lot of our “home,” and toward another new beginning.

The questions were flying through my head faster than Kevin was driving – and that was pretty fast. Once I managed to catch my breath, I asked, “So where exactly are we going?”

Kevin pursed his lips. “Well,” he said thoughtfully, “I saw another motel just up the road. It’s not that far from the casino, but it’s far enough away from our old place. I was thinking we could try there.”

“And are you planning on telling me why we’re moving? And how you got out of jail? Who paid your bail, Kev?” I asked, unable to stand the not knowing.

“No one paid my bail,” he answered casually.

I almost choked and accidentally squeezed Schamuser a bit too tight causing an angry hiss to emerge from the towel. “Kev, you didn’t…” My mind filled with visions of metal files hidden in chocolate cakes, bedsheets tied together to make escape ropes, tunnels dug through the walls in the dead of night…

“No!” he laughed, glancing at me sideways. “I didn’t break out. I cut a deal. Which is why we had to move.”

I listened as he told me the whole story. The DA had decided there were bigger fish to fry, and was looking for willing bait. Kevin’s public defender, Dan, had recommended he work with the State in order to regain his freedom. Kevin gave the name of one of the top guys he had dealt with, and kept the name of his rival to himself. He had figured giving up Polon and saving Arturo may have more than one benefit in the long run. Dan and the DA worked out an elaborate scheme in which Kevin would call Polon to make a buy. They provided him with money for the buy and told him where to schedule the meet. Once the deal happened, the cops would pounce and everyone would be arrested, including Kevin. Of course, his arrest would only be for show, and once they got to the station he would be released and the charges against him dropped.

Kevin’s eyes shone as he told me how he made the call and was dropped off from an unmarked car about a mile from the meet. He walked to appointed spot, and waited. And waited. And waited. He told me he was afraid Polon wouldn’t show, and his deal would be tossed, but then he saw movement up ahead in the dark. It was a guy on a bike, heading straight for Kevin.

As it turned out, Polon had sent another guy to do the actual drop. But it was good enough for the cops. As soon as money changed hands, the area was flooded with light. Kevin and the dealer were cuffed and brought in. And then – Kevin was set free. As far as the DA was concerned, they were now one link higher on the food chain and Kevin was no longer needed.

The first thing Kevin did was call the cab. He had no money, but knew I would be working. After he left me, but before he went home, he stopped and made a phone call from a payphone: to Arturo. He had rightly suspected that Polon would find out almost immediately what had happened, and he wasn’t sure Polon would believe he wasn’t involved. He explained his situation to Arturo, and swore he would never give him up, that the cops had wanted his name as well, but that he wouldn’t crack. Arturo assured him that his people would watch out for Kevin and me, but he also warned him that Polon wouldn’t be so quick to let this go. It may have only been a messenger they caught, but the betrayal was something he wouldn’t forget.

My mind spun. So now, basically, we were on the run from a Mexican drug lord. I almost wanted to laugh. It seemed so surreal. Here I was, a nice, upper-middle class girl, fleeing in the middle of the night with my boyfriend and my cat from a drug lord who probably wanted to kill us. Well, kill Kevin, at least. I couldn’t help it. I did laugh. Which caused Kevin to look at me quizzically.

“You think this is funny?” he asked.

I looked at his profile as he drove and stopped laughing. Because it so obviously wasn’t funny at all. In fact, I could feel the fear crawling up my spine.

“No,” I said quietly. “You think he’s really gonna be looking for us?”

Kevin shrugged. “Hopefully not for long. And Dan said he’s going to have the detective check in with us every now and then, once we get settled.”

Great. A detective. That actually was a good thing, we would be safer with the police watching us…

“So we’ll have to be extra careful when we party,” he stressed.

The laughter bubbled up again. Why wasn’t I surprised? Kevin give up his partying? Come on! Just because he had been arrested, had just gotten out of jail, and would now have a detective staking out our place… I laughed harder.

Until the laughter turned to tears.