seldomifever: (facepalm)
Blergy blergas, my bubby babies. I am beat. Little bit due to lack of sleep, little bit a result of renewed exercisey efforts, but mostly because I am stressed. I am worried about one of my nephews who is spending his senior year of high school at an isolated and very expensive rehab facility in Upper Uranus, Minnesota. He recently committed the crime of talking to a girl during an outing to the mall. This is an intolerable infraction, apparently, and he faces the risk of expulsion. We are informed that now, in addition to pot and cigarettes, they also consider him to be a "social addict". Urg. Eighteen yr old boys chatting up girls? Unthinkable. I cannot say how much I feel like throttling someone over this. I've spent the past decade arguing with experts who've led me in 7,000 different directions with my older son, each one of them positive they new just what he needed. I am wary of anyone who claims to have The Answer. I've been at this trying-to-help-your-kid-because-you-just-want-what's-best-for-them routine forever. Magic bullets are a myth. But I don't really blame my sister and her husband for trying to do as they're told. They're desperate. Raising troubled kids is fucking hard.

My sisters and my brother-in-law are teachers in Queens, and one of their schools has an official case of le grippe de porc, but the ptb are not closing it until more people succumb. This does not please me. My dad is convinced he will not survive exposure, because of his limited lung capacity and compromised cancer-weakened immune system. I think of that lovely family I know who decided to put their careers and lives on hold, while they spend a year in Mexico. According to their blog, they are completely unaffected. Of course! And why not? They take every risk imaginable and nothing in the least ever happens to them. I'd say I'm ready throw caution to the wind, sell everything and move to Machu Picchu, but my doctor tells me that now's really not the time. Turns out my lamentable loss of vision has the outside chance of being caused by stummy medicine-induced glaucoma. I am told I must quit the meds and see an eye doctor post hastey, so, as you can see, it would really be an inopportune time to lose our health insurance. Rats! And I was so close to moving. Out of bed.
seldomifever: (landscape)
On evenings like these, I always think of the last bit of James Agee's Knoxville: Summer 1915: )

Love love that poem and summer nights and gathering with my family in celebration. At least I think tonight was a celebration. Went to [livejournal.com profile] sczsister's house for a going away party for three of her four children. They're headed off to colleges in Canada, California, and Massachusetts. We'll really miss them, but even though they're leaving, I don't feel like we'll never see them. One thing I've learned is that life rarely moves forward in a straight path. Children who leave do come back. I went to UMass the fall after high school, withdrew at the very end of my second semester, went to SUNY Stony Brook for a year, left school altogether for a few months to wait tables, and then returned to UMass to finish my degree. Not that my story is typical, and I certainly hope they have more direction than I did in my youth, but you never know how things will work out. I'm happy for them. Excited they're entering this awesome new phase. And college is wonderful. Wish I could have dragged that part of my life out for even longer than I did.
seldomifever: (16yroldb/g)
Nephews are always playing Norwegian Wood, and now the song is stuck in my head and I don't seem to own a copy of it. Why on earth not? It's feckin' perfect. Drats. The cool new thing we've discovered on YouTube are the vids of people teaching layfolk how to play various songs. Daughter has been working on beginning riff of Guns N Roses' Sweet Child of Mine. She genuinely enjoys listening to Axl Rose. His singing makes me want to drive an ice pick into my eardrums, so I can be free of the ghastly whine. Even beats annoying Rush lead singer as Worst Voice Evar. And middle son of course has to love Rush. I'm in music hell. Never should have dumped Raffi and the Wiggles for this lot. Oy!

Stories are at a standstill, but I've got lots I'm working through in my head. Have failed miserably at flistian feedback this summer. Thought I'd catch up on all of my reading on the Cape, but dial-up foiled my plans. Plus, I really enjoyed taking a break from the ff. I read actual books. Several of them, in fact. And they were good.

Shrink wants me to take a course this semester, but I've done nothing about signing up for one. Also thinks I should volunteer for Obama. Dunno. He's not stirring me the way Al did, but I will be miserable under Republican leadership, so I'm sure it is worth pursuing. Thing is, I have a major aversion to zealots. Well, unless they are BG fans, of course. Then they're cool. We're becoming an endangered species, I fear. Possibly shifting toward the Critically Endangered list, as fandom grows restless and moves onto bigger, though definitely not better, shows and pairings. I'm finding it difficult to reread the same stories for the billionth time. I scour the net, searching for new fics high and low, but they are too few and far between. Mrr.
seldomifever: (nice)
My house has finally stopped asking me to look after it. I think it's dying. Suffocating under heaps of toys and laundry. Haven't touched the clothes in two days, which means the piles in the basement have prolly reached the ceiling. Mrr. I hate housework. Makes my head ache. Whiny, whiny pantses.

Last night, my husband and I conferred with our youngest's teacher. He's wonderful, she wishes she had a class full of hims, life would be glorious. I warned her of his seasonal allergies and she told the nurse and the nurse called me today to discuss. They may have to keep him indoors for recess. Poor little piker. May's the best month of the year, and he's trapped inside in air conditioning. I guess we could get him those shots my husband used to get to protect him from the next bee sting. Good grief, that sounds a little nightmarish.

We left the school last night and headed straight for my ex-brother-in-law Kathryn's father's wake. Kathryn was so happy we were all there. Bowled over by the love. He kept saying how horrible it was to lose his dad, but how wonderful it was to see that we still love him. As if I could stop. Ever. He was a lousy husband and father and is not a terribly attractive woman, but I've adored him since I was twelve. I can't turn that off, even if I am angry that he hurts other people with his selfishness. I'd like to see him again soon. He's completely brilliant and totally emotionally retarded. Sounds like half the feckin' world.

Speaking of which...I had my first therapy session in ten years. Why the heck did I wait so long? The guy was all "Wow, I rarely make such progress in the first session." Yeah, well, I have few skills. Examining my navel is one of them. And I'm not committed to remaining fucked up forever. That helps.
seldomifever: (Default)
My elderly parents are threatening to shovel their walk. You know, while the snow is still all light 'n fluffy. I say, "Mom, you're an old lady with an enlarged heart. Do you have someplace to go?" No, she tells me. My dad's in the background pulling on his snow boots. "Would you stop?" I plead with them. Husband's taking the kids sleigh riding at one of the nearby country clubs, then we'll shovel. I honestly hope they'll wait. Would be nice if one of my strapping young nephews would pop over there to take care of them, but that's never gonna happen. So much for snuggling under blankies all day. Freckin' reckin' snow, grumble, grumble.

fret, fret

Feb. 14th, 2008 09:12 pm
seldomifever: (giles/ru)
My parents took me to lunch today for my birthday. Couple weeks late, but we finally got a day where no one was home sick or going to a doctor's appointment. They are convinced that Hillary still has a chance, and they're still donating to her campaign. I think I might volunteer to make calls for her. And, I guess I'll give her that money I promised the DNC. My parents have quit supporting MoveOn.org. They're sure McCain is definitely going to win if he's up against Obama. Can't say I disagree. Just pray that all the folks who are supporting him are not screwing us royally. I cannot believe we can have such an amazingly horrible president, and his party could still win the next election. It's so frustrating. Republicans just need to sit back and watch us destroy ourselves. Many ways to move forward and only one way to stand still, I guess. It was ever thus.

I'm dying to talk to my old teacher friend about watching my girl play basketball. Maybe I should ask him to see a game with me. That would probably depress the hell out of me. We've both changed so much. But when I see her coach and I see her, it brings me right back. I am not growing old gracefully. I despise aging. The gray hairs don't bother me, but the saggy bits do. I really need to get more serious about working out. I could probably get in shape enough to play basketball in adult league one day. I wonder what kind of older women would play in such a league. Serious athletes, I suppose. I'm not sure this body will ever do what I want it to again. Weird having to continually redefine yourself in your mind. The boy's track coach once told me I ran like a boy. I turned to my English teacher friend/basketball/track coach and asked him what the heck that meant. He told me it was supposed to be a compliment. Meant I was good. Oh, if they could see me now. I run like an old lady who looks like she's gonna keel over after about 100 feet. Sad, sad.

And the ficathon is almost here and I'm still flailing about. Gotta get this done in the next couple of days, so I can still have a chance to rewrite 50 times. No excuse for not having it done already. I am going to finish this if it kills me.
seldomifever: (nice)
'Nother bad dream. I'll spare you the details, lest I bore you to tears. One of those weird ones where pediatrician owns a restaurant/hospital then morphs into my beloved teacher friend. Horrible angst ensues. Getting tired of this. Very, very tired.

We went to my parents' house last night. They made us a lovely supper, and then we played Quiddler. Tons of fun. Everyone must run out and buy this instant. Spending time with the folks is always wonderful. They're probably our favorite couple to hang with. Sounds odd, but they're awesome when in friend-mode.

I'm working through the kinks of my story. Hopefully, I will finish it today. Please let it be done already.

Ooh, and it's [livejournal.com profile] adarog's birthday today. I hope you have a wonderful day!
seldomifever: (scruffy)
Oh, man. The urge to blather is strong when I'm punchy.

My whole house organization project is at a standstill. I now have piles everywhere. Something is seriously wrong with me. I have an aversion to finishing. Hmm. That pretty much goes for everything, not just housey things. No follow through. Must amend.

Homework is nearly finished, though, which excites me to no end. We must attend another family birthday tonight. My 3rd oldest nephew turns twenty-one. He's the second son of Kathryn and now ex-walking sister. Handsome, brilliant, and completely dysfunctional--just the way we likes 'em. Or at least the way we make 'em. They seem to come out that way whether we want them to or not. Kid should be in his senior year at MIT. Instead, he's debating whether or not he should finish his associate's at the community college. He doesn't feel like taking the gym requirement when he could be earning dough at some internet company in the city. Kid's a real whiz. Always has been, but he's also kind of surly and not always super pleasant to be with. He's considering spending some time in Portland with some friends. I think he's really just looking for a girlfriend. God knows, you'll never find anyone nice on Long Island. We have to import all of the good ones. I got mine from Massachusetts.

I guess I've avoided my boring feckin' life long enough. Must. Finish. Housework. Must not. Live in sty.

That's that then.
seldomifever: (manchild)
Today, we took the boys shopping for puppy supplies. We got a crate, a leash, a collar, and some chew toys. Toys R Us is right next to Petco, so we were forced to stop in there. Ka-ching, ka-ching. But we're getting into this dog thing, so we were kind of high all day at the prospect.

Then, we came home and watched half of Derailed. Does Clive Owen make good movies? He's pretty to look at, but without the accent, he's not as sweet. Terrible flick. I've already got the ending pegged. Don't really need to be a rocket scientist for this one. And who cares? Unlikable characters all around.

After a while, we had to clean for my daughter's family party--coffee and cake--no biggie, but the house was trashed, so we had a bunch to get done. About halfway through the process, I began channeling my mother and went a bit psycho on the kids. God, I hated my mom when she flipped before parties, and yet there I was yelling, because they weren't helping, and "Who left this here?" etc, etc. Sickness, I tell you. WTF? And then, the guests arrive, but unlike my mother, who could turn on the charm at the sound of the doorbell, I am left in foul mood, and the last thing I want is freckin' reckin' company.

And my family is full of the most opinionated people on the planet. Everyone wants to know all about the dog, and how I think I'm going to be able to handle it, and how I'd better not let the kids leave toys around, and what names do we like? Oh, they don't like those choices. And then my husband asks my mother if she thinks we made the right decision. My mother said that she would have discouraged it had she been asked, but now she's happy for us. Grr.

This, my friends, is why I had a quick backyard wedding three weeks after we announced the date. I had this image of all of these overbearing, bossy women going on and on about my choices in such banal things as footwear. As it was, I wasn't allowed to wear that little black dress that I loved and I had to have daisies for my bouquet and my husband had to wear this Liberty tie (it had daisies on it). I ended up wearing this crazy navy blue cocktail dress with white polka dots that I found at Banana Republic and a wide-brimmed hat with a matching polka-dotted band around it. In my twenty-four-year-old mind, that showed 'em.

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