Archive for June, 2011

Let’s pretend, shall we?

Posted: June 26, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Let’s pretend, shall we?

Yeah, we should do this.

It’s fun and besides, it’s free and no one needs to know.

Well, except me, of course. But that’s OK.

Did you want me to go first? I don’t mind. Maybe you’re feeling a bit shy, so I’ll start.

The first thing I am pretending is that my cat Boots, doesn’t pee on everything in the house. You know, it’s annoying and I realize most people would toss the cat outside, but not me.

Besides this is MY illusion and therefore I get to do what I want. I am in charge of him, so I don’t want him outside because I would always worry about him and feel horrible. So, I am pretending he always uses his litter box and never misses.

Let’s pretend that both of them no longer use my furniture as a scratching post. Instead they feel no need to shred anything of mine and always let me sleep through the night even if there is a pack of raccoons wandering around in the yard. They no longer announce in the middle of the night that our household is currently at Defcon 5 because of the raccoons and that I must get up immediately and deal with it, pronto!

Oh, and since we are on this subject, let’s pretend that I also still have all my pets and they never died. Roscoe is still being grumpy, Shadow is still wagging his tail while Maverick throws his head around and wants to play and Renegade is crinkling his nose and boxing his brothers.

They are all still here and always will be, along with my brother and Dad.

Yeah, this is a really nice place to be today.

Let’s see, what else do I want to pretend?

(Thinking here…give me a second)

Oh yeah, of course! I am pretending that I finished my book and it’s published. I’m at a book signing event and THERE YOU ARE! Of course you are there. We finally get to meet after all this time. We go out to dinner (I blow off all my peeps) and we have a great time, stay up all night eating and drinking and talking and smoking cigars.

We bond. It’s fun. And come to find out, smoking cigars is good for you.

This next one is a bit hard, but since I started this, might as well be honest.

I’m pretending that the deep buried feeling of loneliness is gone. Poof! There it went! All gone, right? Everything is good now. (This one may need repeating because it’s stubborn). It sort of comes and goes but that’s OK. As for today, buh bye! (Waving hand here).

See, even as I write this, a warm sense of happiness starts in my toes and moves up my legs and makes it all the way to the top of my head. I don’t know what sensation happiness gives you, but for me it is a feeling of lightness, like my body just got smaller as I got bigger.

Another one I like is that I still laugh as much as I normally do, but NO MORE LAUGH LINES! Damn, who needs these anyway? Not me! I don’t care what anyone says about them, they need to go and don’t give me any BS about products that get rid of them. They all lie. All those commercials lie and I know this because I’ve tried every damn product out there and guess what? They don’t work, so for today, all laugh lines are gone. Period! End of discussion.

For today, you subscribe to my blog and I subscribe to yours and we talk, all the time. We have fun and we exist on our own planet and anyone that doesn’t like it can go away. Screw them, right? I never liked them anyway, so now it’s official. Just you and me and what we talk about and the fun we have. That’s what’s important – the fun we have. The “getting to know each other” part that makes you look forward to talking to your friend again as soon as you’ve logged off or hung-up the phone.

Speaking of subscribers, not only are you one of them, but my family subscribes too. It’s weird that they don’t, but for today they do and they like it. It’s nice when your family supports you, don’t you think? Yes, me too, so let’s pretend that everyone we know loves what we write and get all fussy and grumpy until our next posting appears. We liked getting bugged by our readers, don’t we?

Yes we do, oh yes we do! Plus we love it when we log on and have too many emails to deal with but because you and I are so dedicated to what we do, we stay up late and make sure to write back to everyone because we care.

The things we pretended as a child are still there. Maybe a bit buried or forgotten for now, but go ahead and dig them up. It’s OK because I said so. Now you just need to say so and there it will be.

No, don’t look around and ask for permission on this. Come back here and tell me what you want to pretend. Whisper it in my ear, if you want. Fine by me.

Tell me all about your planet. It’s only fair because I just told you about mine.

(Leaning forward to hear you).

Harasssment at work? Coffee helps.

Posted: June 23, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

It is very likely that if you’re a woman walking around on planet Earth these days, you will run into this problem.

The funny thing is, it will have absolutely nothing to do with who you are, what you do or even how you look.  Though I would suspect that if a bottom feeder does find you attractive, you’ll probably have a higher risk of this. That seems to be the nature of the beast. And I do mean beast. I am a writer and I pick my words carefully.

The first time it happened to me, I was young, naïve and it took me a few minutes to catch on to what had just happened.

I was in a business meeting with my boss and a very important client. This client was very wealthy and a dear friend of my boss. I was learning the ropes in the insurance industry and had gotten my license recently. My boss wanted me to learn about commercial insurance, so I would often tag along with him. I had to sit still, be quiet and take notes. This was not easy for me, but I did it anyway.

I am naturally inquisitive and like to ask questions when I don’t understand something, but because I was there to listen and learn I would just make notes on any questions I had.

The meeting consisted of my boss, the client and his son and their new partner. Let’s call the partner Dick.

Dick was a blow hard. He was arrogant and was rich beyond anything I could imagine on my meager salary. The client was in real estate and Dick decided he wanted to dabble in it, so he bought into the client’s business as a partner and had ordered the meeting with us to decide if we were good enough to now handle his needs. Yeah, HIS needs.

I admit I did not like this man but I kept my mouth shut. I did not like the way he talked to my boss or anyone else in the room, so I kept my gaze down because I am easy to read just by looking at my face. I maintained a pleasant smile and did my best to practice my poker face, which to this day I completely suck at.

Dick ran the entire meeting. He was belligerent and I could see the people in the room trying to appease him. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing and realized we weren’t going to be able to convince him to keep us on as his insurance agents. I could tell he was there just to let all of us know that we weren’t good enough and that he had someone else he wanted to use.

Loosing this account was going to cost our company over $100,000.00 in commissions a year. I could see what was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. I kept my mouth shut and my head down.

Dick was sitting to my right, at the head of the table. Of course he was at the head of the table. My boss was to my left and the client and his son were sitting across from me

About an hour into the meeting, I suddenly feel a hand on my knee and then felt it go up my leg and give my thigh a squeeze. I almost jumped out of my chair. No one noticed as I snapped my head towards Dick. He kept his gaze steady as he talked to the clients while he rubbed my leg under the table.

I tried to move away but he held on. I put my hand under the table and pinched his hand as hard as I could. He jerked but let go. I moved my chair back and away from him. I said nothing because I didn’t know what to say or do.

I sat there confused, hurt and angry. Part of me wanted to get up and walk out but I knew that would look bad for our company. Another part of me wanted to find my nail file in my purse and stab him in his leg with it and another part of me wanted to slap him across his face.

Since I couldn’t decide what to do, I remained silent and I thought. I thought long and hard.

Towards the end of the meeting, I got up and poured myself a cup of coffee. I sat back down. The meeting was ending and I sat very still.

As everyone was standing up and starting to shake hands, I stood up before Dick did and accidentally poured my cup of hot steaming coffee onto his lap. Watching him jump up and scream made my heart sing. Watching him jump around was icing on the cake.

I had spoken to him and only him and I knew I had just put the last nail in our coffin.

I batted my eyes and told him how sorry I was and that it was just an accident. He glared at me, muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room.

I kept apologizing and everyone said not to worry. I secretly grinned all the way back to the office. My boss was very understanding and said he knew we were going to lose the account regardless of the coffee incident but admitted he thought it was funny. He also knew we had lost account long before we walked into the meeting. I learned from him that sometimes you just can’t control what a client will do and the best thing is to just let them do what they want to do and don’t feel you had failed.

We did lose the account the next week.

That was fine by me. We ended up writing another large account. Our doors remained opened, we weathered the storm and kept our integrity in.

Plus I learned how to handle sexual harassment all by myself. Yeah me!

So never underestimate the power of a pissed off woman.

If you sexually harass us, we can handle it. It just takes a cup of coffee and life is good again.

Will date for food

Posted: June 21, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

Yes, I have done this and though I would rather die than admit this to the men I have done this to, I will say that a good friend of mine just told me about doing the same thing.

I was sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon with my trusted laptop, writing and trying to put a story together for a writing contest. I was feeling the usual feelings of wracking my brain trying to be brilliant rather than just write the damn story when my phone rang.

This was the distraction I needed so badly and I answered the phone, knowing it was my friend Debra because I have really cool ring tones for every contact in my phone. This is technology that I love because I don’t even have to look at the phone to know who is calling nd depending on my mood, I either answer or let it go to voicemail. To me, this is the ultimate in being lazy and I cherish it.

I answered because I was just getting absolutely nowhere with my story plus I was feeling guilty about not writing much that week because I work 2 jobs and if I don’t write enough, I start to feel emotionally sluggish. Sort of a stale feeling comes over me and then I start to get nervous about even going near my laptop unless it is to play solitaire.

I grabbed the phone, hit the talk button and say hello.

“Susan, guess where I am going?”

I can tell Debra is in her car.

“You are leaving town, moving to Nevada to work as a hooker at a ranch.” Debra had recently been laid off from her job because her boss had died and the family was cutting costs by bringing in relatives, have them do the work and not pay them as much.

I hear her belly laugh. “No, I am on my way to meet a guy for a blind date.”

Debra and I have been doing the internet dating scene and often compare stories. In fact, many of my friends tell me their stories and then ask me to write about them. It’s a strange little hobby of mine. Writing stories about my life and other people.

I immediately ask her for all the details about this new guy. Debra and I are very different in our approach to internet dating. I hate it. She likes it. I really don’t want to meet any of them. She loves to meet as many people as possible and as quickly as possible. I only meet them after weeks of emailing and then maybe a few weeks of talking on the phone and then if I am still interested, I might meet them. But by then they have “moved on” (a very popular saying for internet dating along with “He’s just not that in to you” when the men you are talking to suddenly disappear) and I forget about the free website I am on until another email arrives from someone I don’t know who has just sent me their phone number or instant messaging address and is just dying to “chat”, which is another term that I don’t quite understand.

Hence, she has a lot of dates and I have very few.

“Well, I’m driving half way to meet him and he’s really good looking and that bothers me, but I’m going anyway.”

“Ah, yeah, the ‘good looking’ problem. How come you are making an exception for this one?” I ask. Both Debra and I don’t like to date drop dead gorgeous men because, well, it makes us a bit uncomfortable and very often, they haven’t developed much of a personality because they don’t have to. Women can get away with this much easier than men because men are men and I don’t think it needs much more of an explanation than that.

“Because I’m hungry and we are meeting for dinner.”

“So, you are now dating for food, is that it?” I say as I start laughing. I knew just what she was talking about but I had never told anyone that I have done it many times.

I hear her laugh again and I know this is why she is going. She’s broke, she doesn’t know what to do or where to go and this will be a nice distraction. It has to be something like that because she said he was really good looking.

“Yes, I guess you could say that. I figure I’ll meet him, get something to eat because I haven’t eaten all day and maybe have some fun.”

“Look Deb, women have been doing this for thousands of years and I think you should go for it. Be sure to order a huge meal so you can get a doggie bag and have some food for tomorrow. Be nice to him, don’t be rude and have some fun. Who knows, you might really like him and hit it off.”

She is quiet for a second and then says “Do you really think it’s OK to do this? I mean, I haven’t really talked to him much, but he seems like a nice guy.”

“Hell, Deb, you’ve married men for less than that.”

“That’s true” she says.

“Yes, it’s fine. You are meeting in a public place, driving yourself and then coming home. Just don’t do something stupid and call me as soon as you are leaving.”

She agrees and hangs up and I continue with my day on the couch with my laptop and some Ben & Jerry’s for dinner.

About 2 hours later, she calls back and I grab the phone.

“So Deb, how was dinner?” I ask.

“I don’t know. I never got to eat.”

This is not good and she sounds distant and I am suddenly worried.

“Are you OK?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Everything is fine but you will not believe what happened.”

She proceeds to tell me the story. She arrives at the restaurant and he was all ready seated and waiting for her. The first thing she notices was that he was just finishing a beer and yet she recalls he was adamant that he didn’t drink. They greet each other and he doesn’t offer her anything to drink, so she goes to the bar herself to order something.

As she sits down, the waitress gives him another drink and while they are talking, he finishes that one and orders another one. He is even better looking in person.

She is watching this and though she doesn’t really care if he drinks or not, she is starting to sense that he definitely has a drinking problem and says nothing.

The waitress comes over to take their order for dinner and he blows her off and tells her to come back later. They chat for a while and then Debra gets up to use the bathroom and he follows her.

When she comes out, he is standing there, leering at her and grabs her butt and pulls her towards him. His tongue is sticking out and laying flat on his chin and he takes his right hand, grabs the back of her head and pushes her lips onto his tongue.

While she is telling me this, I feel myself getting angrier and angrier but grateful she is fine.

“Sue it was like kissing a cows tongue! His tongue was just laying there on his chin and he pushed my face into it and it happened so fast I didn’t know what to do. Then I could tell he was really turned on and all I could think of was to get away from him as quickly as possible.”

“Yeah, but what about the doggie bag?” I asked. “You mean to tell me you drove all the way over there and you still didn’t get any food?”

She starts laughing. “No, I didn’t get any food! I pulled away and walked back to the table and grabbed my purse and left. The son of a bitch follows me out and wants to know where I want to go! He actually thought I wanted to get in his car with him and go somewhere else!”

I shake my head and find it hard to believe that anyone would act this way and then I remember several first dates of my own. I am the Queen of first dates and rarely have a second date.

“Are you kidding me? He wanted you to get in his CAR?” I ask.

“Yes! So I told him I would just follow him and he gets in his car and starts driving and I pulled out of the parking lot and took off the other way.”

“Let me guess” I say. “He started calling you after about 10 seconds, right?”

“Right.”

“You didn’t answer, did you?” I ask, holding my breath.

“Hell no! I’m still on my way home and he’s called about 5 times and sent 3 text messages, wondering if I got lost. The idiot is probably pulled over on the side of the road, waiting for me.”

This gets me to giggling, just visualizing this man who looks like he just stepped out of a GQ ad, drunk and by the side of the road, sending text after text and constantly hitting the “talk” button on his cell phone, waiting for Deb to come around the corner with absolutely no clue about his offensive and disturbing behavior.

“Well, I’m glad you are OK.”

“I’m fine, just hungry, that’s all. Really ticks me off I didn’t get any food out of this. Oh well, maybe next time.”

“Deb, with you, there will always be a next time.”

“Sue, you have to promise me something.”

I already know what it is, but I’ll bite.

“Sure. What is it?”

“That the next time I decide to date for food, you will remind me of this date and stop me.”

“But what if you are really hungry and have no money?”

I can actually hear her thinking about this as she drives down the road on her cell phone.

“Send me some money and I promise to go have dinner by myself.”

“I promise.”

Dear Dad

Posted: June 18, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

Dear Dad,

It’s Father’s Day this weekend. I wanted you to know that I am fine. We are all fine.

Here’s a picture of some of us on my 55th birthday. This was up at Dodie’s house when we were fishing in our pajamas:

Fishin' in our jammies.

You can see that Emma is doing great. I’m glad you got to meet her before you left.

I don’t miss you as much as I did at first  because I know you are fine and you are always with me and it was your time to go. That is the natural order of things and as much as I may not like it, that’s just the way things are. You were always more of a realist and I was always more of an idealist. Maybe I am finally learning a balance here.

I am happy, Dad. I really am.  I am trying to keep my sentences short and to the point because it always bothered you when I would ramble on and take forever to make my point. I still often forget my point mid-sentence. That hasn’t changed.

I am doing the best that I can on the promise I made to you before you died to take care of everyone. When you first asked me to do that, I have to admit I was a bit annoyed. I mean, aren’t they all old enough to look out for themselves? But soon I learned that’s not what you meant.

You meant to make sure the family stays together, no matter what and I’m doing that. I could be better at it, but I am doing it. It is much harder than I thought.

Mom is doing great. This is a picture of us taken about a year or so ago:

She’s still gorgeous and kicking some butt every day. We are always there for her and she wants for nothing.

Your beloved Sadie is good. She’s 10 now but still acts like a puppy. After you died, she spent the next 3 days waiting at the front door for you to return. That was hard to watch, but she eventually settled down. I took this picture of her recently:

Miss Sadie

I miss the smell of your cigars. I think of you every time I smell one. I will still have one once in a while and I remember sitting out in the backyard with you and our cigars and the brandy. Oh, the brandy! I developed a taste for it but hardly ever drink because I have no tolerance. In my mind I can drink like you and still stay sober, but only in my mind.

Growing up and getting older, I would often ask myself when I had a difficult decision to make “What would my Dad do?” and that would help guide me. I no longer do that. Now I ask myself “What should I do?’ because I found my own voice and my own conscience, just like you wanted me to. I found it Dad, I found it and I’ve kept it and I will never let it go. I promise.

I am happy. I am writing and living my life from my heart, just like you told me to. I still struggle to balance that out with being logical and fair, but I am getting there.

I finally learned that everything is not a battle. I know, you must be shocked to hear that, but it’s true. I now pick them carefully and with much thought. I fight for the things I am passionate about and I don’t back down, Dad. I don’t back down until it’s done.

We talk of you often and miss you, but I still see you every time we all get together. I see you working out in the yard in your jeans, or starting another food fight at the dinner table, or giving me that goofy smile that would make me laugh so hard I would have to leave the table. I see you at the head of the table with a plate full of food and making sure everyone else had a full plate before you started eating.

I see you stringing up the Christmas tree lights and I hear you swearing because they are all tangled up and we all have to listen to your lecture about doing things properly the first time and sticking with it until it was done.

This was an annual lecture.

I am happy with my business and where I work. I finally found a place where I belong and where my strong personality is enjoyed and welcomed and not crushed and shoved to the corner. After all the years of working with you, I still run my business on many of the principles you taught me.

I hate to tell you this, but computers are still here and they weren’t the end of our civilization like you said they would be.

I learned kindness from you when it was a very hot summer day and there were all of these people working in our yard. You had hired them when you saw them looking for work in our very white and affluent neighborhood. You were the only person that found work for them to do that day. They were Mexicans and you worked along side of them all day long and then made sure they ate by buying them food and giving them plenty of water.

You fed them before you ate anything to make sure there was enough for them.

I found out years later that you didn’t have the money to pay them and you didn’t need the work done, but they were trying to feed their families, so you helped them and allowed them to keep their pride.

I learned patience from you when you spent hours and hours every week helping me with my homework. I didn’t understand math and you did. I remember the flash cards you would hold up and no matter how many times I got the answer wrong, you would tell me to try again.

I learned tolerance when I told you of the spiritual path I wanted to travel rather than go to college. You didn’t understand it or agree with it, but you asked me if that was what I wanted to do. I told you it was. You said you would help me and you did. All you cared about was that I was happy and doing what I wanted to do even if you didn’t think it was the right choice.

It was.

I learned to be brave when I saw you, in your early 60’s and with a bad leg, run across four lanes of traffic to help a young woman who was being harassed and bothered by six young and strong bikers. Without a moments thought of your own safety, you ran to her aid and stood up to them. I watched in awe and horror from across the street in the safety of the office as they yelled at you and made hand gestures and cursed you. You stood in front of her and never said a word. Before any of us could help you, they took off and you walked with her for 1/2 mile to her car and made sure she drove off safely.

You didn’t say a word when you came back no matter how much we asked you about it. You shrugged it off.

I learned compassion from you. I remember sitting in the living room with you and Mom and seeing the riots in the 60’s and not understanding any of it. I had never seen violence before and you sat with me while I watched. I did not understand.

I watched as the war in Viet Nam came into our living room every night. You sat with me while I watched with your arm around my shoulder and I did not understand.

You were slowly allowing the real world to come into my life to prepare me for it. You knew it was time. I asked you why these people rioted and you told me that they were angry because they had not been treated right. I said the war was wrong but they shouldn’t be burning the American flag. You told me you fought in the war just so they could burn it. You hated it but you would defend their right to do it.

I always listened to you even when I pretended I didn’t. I heard every word you said, I remember every hug you gave me and every kind word you spoke to me. You were so patient with me and let me make my own decisions and find my own way even if you didn’t agree. You never told me who I had to be or what I had to do. You stood by me in your quiet way and let me figure things out for myself.

I grew up to be independent and to think for myself, just like you wanted me to. You forgot to tell me how much trouble that would cause for me. I guess it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission after all.

I still grieve a bit when I meet people who weren’t as fortunate as me to have the family I have. I never realized while I was growing up how lucky and blessed I was. The older I get, the more I appreciate you and Mom and everything you gave us.

I am proud to know that I am my father’s daughter.

Discipline sucks

Posted: June 12, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: ,

It really does.

Of course, I am saying this because I need to get my writing done for the day, the house cleaned, laundry done along with a ton of emails and text messages to answer and a few phone calls to make.

Plus I have a ton of reading to catch-up on, blogs to read and books to finish and new ones to start.

All on my day off and instead, what am I doing?

Having fun on Twitter (y’all should follow me) along with checking Facebook every 5 minutes and drinking coffee and thinking about getting things done.

I am also working hard on convincing myself why I really don’t need to go work out today at Curves.

I am losing the argument with myself as I sit here and stare at my workout clothes. They stare back at me, I just know they do.

But anytime I start this conversation with myself, I get up. I take off all my clothes and I stand in front of my full length mirror. It takes me a minute to open my eyes and look.

I lose the argument and my gym clothes win. I quickly grab them (I always wear a very long and baggy T-shirt) and out the door I go. I try to remove the image of what I just saw as I race towards one hour of hell.

The machines are evil and I curse them the entire time. I don’t like to admit that they work and sometimes I almost cry when I think about the machine that makes me do lunges, over and over again with all that weight on my shoulders.

I am over 35 so therefore I am fighting gravity. I vow to win.

In addition to all of that, this is the help I get when I am working:

The paw you see belongs to Boots. For some unknown feline reason, he has to always to have his paw on my hand while I work. Cute, yes? Well, it is for about the first 10 seconds, but after that, not so funny.

But I normally get him to settle on sleeping on my lap with his pinhead on my arm. I manage to write in a very odd position but somehow it gets done.

His purring is soothing and I’ll take love anyway I can get it.

I often ask myself why work so hard on this book and blog? I mean, what is that all about?

I can’t answer the question other than to say that it makes me happy when someone reads what I wrote and they like it. It is as simple as that. There isn’t really anything else to it.

So I would like to say that I love all 4 of my subscribers (5 if you count me) and please give yourselves a group hug. Really, do that because I think it’s great that you read what I write.

I don’t care about the numbers or how many I have. One would be enough for me. Scouts honor.

The discipline aspect of this is hard. There are so many other things to do such as…well, shit there’s part of the problem.

The fact of the matter is, I would much rather write than do most anything else.

So thank you for reading this.

I still have to get 2,000 words done today (blogging does not count) and somehow I will get it done.

From where I sit, I can see the dishes needing to be done. The floor needs to be swept. Litter boxes need a cleaning, dusting will be a nightmare and then there’s the bathroom. Ah yes, the bathroom is calling to me.

The day is finally starting to feel like spring after all the rain recently, so it’s time to put on a T-shirt and shorts and sneak a peek at my legs to make sure they are presentable to the world and quarters to find for the laundromat.

It’s also time to put my thoughts of the ex-boyfriend out of my mind.

I was putting something away yesterday. I opened the drawer to the night stand and saw condoms.

It made me miss him. Big time.

I stared down at them and wondered if I would ever need to use these again and should I throw them away?

I kept them and closed the drawer.

I felt a small smile on my face.

There is always hope.

How to turn 56

Posted: June 10, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , , ,

Yep, today’s my birthday and it’s official – I am 56 years old.

Not quite sure how it happened, but it has.

I’m on “the other side” of 50. That means I am no longer in my early 50’s but now “approaching 60.”

Very strange concept. Can’t say that I like it and can’t say that it bothers me.

So, what’s the best way to celebrate turning 56?  Like this:

 

The correct way to turn 56 - party at Six Flags

So, that’s what I did. 11 of us spent last Saturday at Six Flags in the pouring rain and loved every minute of it.

The other great thing about my birthday is that I share it with Emma, my great niece who was born on the 9th but I am convinced she really was born on my birthday and that there is a great conspiracy to keep that fact quiet.

So Emma, who just turned 8, not only shares the same last name as I but the same birthday and nothing will convince me otherwise.

It was a great day that my sister arranged. We had a blast, had a wonderful dinner and I don’t remember that much after the 3rd drink. Well, I do, but it’s a bit fuzzy. Thank God my niece Vanessa was there to drive.

Some of these wonderful people sat in a hot tub or swam after dinner. I didn’t have a bathing suit to bring because, well, first of all, I threw them all away last year. I had lost a lot of weight and there was no way I was going to wear the “fat chick suit” for any reason.

Secondly, most women around my age really aren’t all excited of getting into a bathing suit. We’ll do it, but it’s not something we jump up and down about. Maybe if everyone else wearing one is our age, then it’s not such a big deal.

But to put on a suit when you don’t know who’ll be looking at your ass ? I might have IF I had a really hot suit to wear, but I didn’t and I didn’t want to spend my birthday weekend trying on bathing suits. I wanted to have a good time and not be stressed about my thighs.

No one looks good trying on bathing suits at Target with the harshest lights possible shining down on you in a little room with mirrors that make you look 10 pounds heavier and show every single flaw you have.

So, I passed on the idea and instead just hung-out, had fun, ate too much and enjoyed the company of some of the most wonderful people in the world.

Now I am getting all the birthday wishes on Facebook and it makes me smile. I forgot today was my birthday. It was so-last-week, but it really is today. I really am 56 today and I feel like it should matter, but it doesn’t.

I thought I would be stressed or worried about it, but I’m not. I’m glad I’m still here. I’m amazed I made it past 40, so everything after that is icing on the cake.

I love my life and there isn’t much I would change about it, so I really can’t complain. Well, OK, there is one thing I would change and that would be having someone to share it with who was human, not a pet, and a male. That would be kind of cool I think.

But then again, maybe not. The jury is still out on that.

And that’s cool with me.

 

Spitting?

Posted: June 6, 2011 in funny stories
Tags: , ,

I don’t get it.

I really don’t.

I’m walking down the street, minding my own business as I am really craving cookies and since I don’t have any in the house, I managed to get up, put on my shoes, grab a couple of dollars from my purse and am on a mission from God to make it to the corner store to buy some.

Just a simple thing to do. I’m not bothering anyone.

Suddenly I hear someone spit and I look up. It’s such a gross and disgusting sound, isn’t it?

I mean, my stomach gets that nauseous feeling in it and I had just finished dinner and I could feel it start to move.

I hate this man suddenly. I hate the sound he made. I hate his total and complete disregard for the street that we all share and I hate the fact that he ruined a rather enjoyable walk.

I also hate the fact that I have to now cross the street to avoid him and where he spat because I sure as hell don’t want to see it and I’m going to have to look if I don’t want to step in it.

I don’t get this at all.

I got after a young employee one time for the same thing. We were outside talking during lunch. It was a gorgeous day and many of us were outside enjoying it before having to spend the rest of the afternoon at our desks and staring at computers.

Right in the middle of what I was saying, he turned his head and spit.

Right. There. In. Front. Of. Me.

I gasped.

“Susan, you OK? What’s wrong.” he asked.

My hand was covering my mouth. My eyes were as wide as they could be.

I was struggling not to throw-up and I wanted to slap him.

I finally found my voice. “I can’t believe you did that! That is so gross and I’m feeling a bit sick.”

“Do what?”

“YOU JUST SPIT ON THE CEMENT!”  I screamed as I jumped up and away from it. I had been sitting down on a chair and as I jumped up, the heel of my shoe caught the leg of it and it tumbled behind me as I jumped away. I started to fall towards him and used his chest as a buffer with my hands and pushed myself away from him.

This caused him to be pushed back and he lost his balance for a moment.

All in all, I looked completely stupid and uncoordinated, which does happen to me from time to time.

His face got red and he turned away. He looked down at it then looked behind. He looked everywhere but at me.

“So what? It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? Then why are you looking so embarrassed?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” I said. “Now clean it up.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

I glared at him. He was only 16, sweet as could be but I guess he was being raised by wolves. I had not been, My brothers and I were taught these things. I can’t ever remember my brothers, my Dad, my uncles or any male that I’ve known all this time to just turn around and spit in front of me or anyone else.

“Tommy, do I look like I’m kidding?”

He looked at me for a moment and then slowly shook his head.

“Well, you didn’t have to hit me, you know?”

“I didn’t hit you. I bumped into you and I’m sorry but doing that is just…wrong. Now, clean it up and don’t ever do that again.”

He glared at me for a moment. “Look, I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m sorry and all, but come on! So what?”

“So you think it’s OK to just spit whenever and wherever you want? Shit, why don’t you just whip it out right now and pee all over the street? Is that OK to do?”

He chuckled. “No, of course not.”

“Tell you what Tommy. I’ll make you a deal. You ever spit like that around me again and I’ll go into great details about my period. How’s that for a deal?”

You would have thought by his reaction that I had just admitted to him that I was Hitler and Bin Laden all rolled  up into one nice package and that I was here to kill him. He was paralyzed with fear and revulsion.

I always have a ace up my sleeve. Make no doubt about it.

“No, don’t do that. Stop talking about it! Geez, you’re insane, you know that?” he said as he bent down and used a Kleenex to start cleaning.

I stood there and watched him.

“Thanks Tommy for doing that,” I said.

“No problem. Just don’t talk about ‘that stuff’ to me, ever, OK?”

I smiled. “We’ll see.”

Every so often after that, as I would walk by his desk, I would pull a tampon out of my purse and swing it around.

Tommy never spit again. At least not that I know of.

Voices In Your Head?

Posted: June 4, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags:

I had a client that would talk to the voices in his head. I didn’t know this was happening when he was taken on as a client, because if I had, I would have stopped it. 

 

But, he was accepted as a client and was given to me by my Sales Manager Charlie. I knew something was wrong when Charlie walked into my office with his head down, a folder pressed hard against his chest and bumped into a chair because he wasn’t watching what he was doing. I knew that whatever it was he had to say it would not be good.

 

He cursed the chair and rubbed his knee cap. I leaned back in my recliner, put my hands behind my head and took a deep breath. Charlie has been our Sales Manager for over 10 years and was damn good at it. He knew the type of clients that we wanted to work with and was very good at weeding out the ones we don’t, but something told me that he had made an exception.

 

I didn’t say anything as he looked around my office and sat down. There’s really not much to look at as my office is small.  It has a desk, 2 chairs and a credenza. It’s efficient and practical and I don’t spend much time in it. I use it to answer phone calls, return emails and play solitaire. Today was quiet and I was winning the card game, so I paused it.  I love it when the cards start jumping all over the monitor when I win. I don’t like to miss that part.

 

He cleared his throat but still hung onto the folder tightly. “Umm, Susan, there’s something here I want to go over with you, if you have a few minutes.”

 

”Sure Charlie, go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind,” I said as I leaned forward. I put my hand out for the folder but he didn’t budge.

 

“I signed someone up but I don’t think you’re going to be too happy. You know the sales have been sluggish the last few weeks, what with the holidays and all, and I’ve been strapped a bit financially with Laura needing braces, so I signed up someone that might just be more difficult for you.” He finally handed me the folder. I raised one eyebrow and peered at him over my glasses. This is a look I strongly recommend all managers learn and use.

 

I opened the folder and started reading. Charlie sat very quietly and I could see his knee bouncing up and down while he tapped his right knee with his hand.

 

After reading the folder, I put it aside and looked up at him.

 

“He hears voices? Am I reading that right?”

 

Charlie sighed and nodded his head.

 

“And you signed him up because you need to pay for your kids braces?”

 

Again he nodded while studying the floor intently.

 

“And you want me to work with him?”

 

“Yes. He asked specifically for you after talking to some of our clients.”

 

I sighed. I swear some of my clients have a wicked sense of humor.

 

The client, Jack, arrived the following week. I was not sure how to prepare for a client who has voices in his head so I was in virgin territory. We sat down and began talking. I was asking the usual questions to get enough information so we could figure out an effective program for him.

 

During the conversation he suddenly turned his head to the right and said “What?” and then appeared to listen for a moment. I watched this in fascination. When he was done listening, he looked up at me and apologized for the interruption.

 

“Who was that?” I asked. I figured there was no need to be rude if someone else had just joined in our conversation.

 

He blushed for a moment. “That was Richard.”

 

“Oh, OK and what does Richard have to say?”

 

“It doesn’t matter. I know he’s not real.”

 

I grinned. “If you know he’s not real, then why do you talk to him? He must be real. At least to you if no one else.”

 

“He’s always putting me down. If I listen to him then he stops talking faster, so that’s what I do.”

 

I thought about this for a moment. “Jack, let’s try this; the next time Richard starts talking, I want you to turn around to him and tell him to shut-up. Can you do that?”

 

Jack thought about this for a moment and agreed. We continued our conversation and then about 10 minutes later, Jack suddenly turns his head around and yells “SHUT UP RICHARD” and then continued with our conversation. This seemed to work and I spent the next year working with a lovely man who would occasionally scream mid-sentence.

 

I got to where it didn’t bother me much and as time went by, Richard eventually left Jack alone and never bothered him again. Jack had grown a back bone and used it.

 

Only pay attention to your own voice and no one else’s. No matter where those voices might come from. Your voice is the only one that matters.

My Friend At The Laundromat

Posted: June 3, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , ,

My one friend is someone who drives a Datsun 240Z and if you are old enough to remember what that is, your secret will be safe with me.

It’s white and it looks like it has a million miles on it but he looks comfortable in it as if he is the original owner and has become one with his car. Just the way he sits back in it and reads. He has a ponytail (which I adore on some men) and almost always wears a cap. You know, the ones that make you think of England.

I usually pull-up a few spaces over from him. My routine is to park, grab my quarters, hid my purse and walk into the Laundromat with my basket of clothes. Once in a while we will nod to each other, but most of the time he appears to be quite engrossed in his book.

In all the years I’ve seen him, I’ve only seen him talk on his cell phone once. As for me, that’s the main thing I do while I wait for my laundry to be done. I’m bored, waiting out in the car, and I feel it’s my friends obligations to entertain me while I’m bored, so I start calling people.

It’s gotten now to where they know I am doing laundry. They will answer the phone, asking if my clothes are in the washer or the dryer. They are all smart asses.

I am a creature of habit and I’m still not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

After 3 years of seeing each other and doing our head nod, this guy finally spoke to me. I was, at the time, being mesmerized by my socks and underwear going round and round in the dryer. I can’t help but think what it would be like to be in there with them. Every time I watch a dryer, I have this thought.

He walked by, smiled and then stopped. I smiled back. Today he stopped, smiled and stood in front of me. Suddenly I didn’t know what to say, so I kept smiling.

I could see he was struggling with what to say. I wanted to start a conversation with him, just to ease up his agony, but I was suddenly tongue-tied.

I could see he had very blue and gentle eyes. I could hear the people in the background who were chattering, yelling at their kids and folding laundry and the constant hum of the machines.

“Hi. How are you today?” he asked.

“I’m bored. How are you?”

“Yeah, I’m bored too.”

He kept smiling and looking at me. Suddenly I was afraid he was going to ask me out for a cup of coffee. At that time, I had a boyfriend and it always seems that as soon as you hook-up with someone, suddenly you become the most desirable creature on the face of the planet to people who didn’t even know you existed before.

Then I thought I am just being silly and vain.

“I guess doing laundry is boring, isn’t it?” he asked. I couldn’t look away from his eyes. They were so blue and looked even bluer against his dark tan. This was someone who either spent a great deal of time working outdoors or went to a tanning salon. I hope it was the former because the latter would not have fit with my summation of him. Plus, it would have bummed me out because it would have ruined my illusion of him.

“Yeah, it is. I usually bring something to read but end up making phone calls instead. It’s like I can’t concentrate on a book when I’m outside.”

He looked at me like I was speaking Greek, but kept his smile going.

We chatted for a few minutes and then my dryer started beeping. I didn’t want to pull out my socks and underwear in front of him – hell, I don’t like to do that in front on anyone – so I ignored it. It could wait and no one would die.

Plus, it’s not like I fold my clothes, so no worries. I try but I usually end up just stuffing them in a drawer that has the fewest number of clothes in them.

He shuffled his feet, looked down at them. “Well, you have a good day,” he said as he walked away. I told him to do the same.

I waited until he was out the door before opening the dryer and shoving my clothes in the basket. It was a poor and pathetic basket; all torn up and hard to carry because both handles were broken, but in my everyday life, buying a laundry basket is not something I think about. I only think about it when I carry it on Sundays.

I put my laundry in the car and looked up and saw him sitting in his car, reading.

He didn’t look up as I drove away. I checked, slyly, to see if he had.

After three years, contact had been made.

Something I Forgot To Worry About

Posted: June 3, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , ,

Every so often, someone will ask me a question as if I should have given that particular topic much thought and consideration.

For example, after breaking up with someone after eight months, some of the things my girlfriends and family have said:

1) Don’t worry, you’ll find someone else.

2) It wasn’t meant to be and now you’ve opened the door for the right guy to walk into.

3) I’m so sorry! You poor thing. How are you doing? I mean really, are you OK?

4) You broke up with him, right? Not the other way around?

5) Have you heard back from him?

6) He’s an idiot to have let you go. (This is true)

7) Every pot has its cover.

Etc, etc, etc. I think you get my point.

Well, I would like to take this opportunity to respond to the above. It’s my blog, so I get to do what I want to do.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone else,” this assumes that I am looking for someone. I’m not. Yes, it would be great and who doesn’t want a wonderful, successful and loving relationship? Most of us do but I have to be honest, and this might sound a bit bitter, but the fact of the matter is, I don’t know many people who have this. That said, I do know people that do, so it seems to be a bit of a gamble. At least from my viewpoint it does.

I can’t honestly say that I look to someone else for my happiness. I’m not broken, so I don’t feel like I need to be fixed. I would want someone that contributes to who I am and I can do the same for them.

“It was meant to be…” Well, I’m not a big believer in fate. I think you make the life you want and in the end, you have to account for your choices. Whether they were correct choices or not, you did it. Is there someone out there, wandering around and looking for me? I seriously doubt it as I am not doing the same.

“I’m sorry. You poor thing,” just gets me riled! Sympathy? Nah, I don’t think so. Now this comment always comes from someone who is married or in a long-term relationship. For some odd reason, being single again annoys these women. I’m not sure why it is, but it’s as if some primal instinct takes over as if I am going to suddenly go after what they have. Or maybe there’s a bit a envy in their tone but you would have thought that I told them I was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. As if not having someone in my life is now a death sentence and they are going to send flowers.

I never get this comment from single women. I usually will get strong interest on all the gory details – I’m the same way myself – and then a high 5. Us single women seem to have a special bond and understanding. Even if we don’t particularly like each other, there is an unspoken agreement that it’s OK to be single and be happy. We can be quite arrogant on this point, by the way.

“You broke up with him, right?” Yes I did. I didn’t want to but there was no choice. Well, OK, yes there was a choice. Either hang in there longer and hope he ends up loving me or…yeah, you got it. Walk. If someone doesn’t love me, then they don’t and there’s nothing I can do about it. Nor would I try. So yes, it was a no-brainer for me. I have to say in all fairness, he’s a great guy. That was the hard part for me. It’s so much easier when people are mean or unkind to break-up with them. It’s much harder when you can see the potential and they can’t. That sucks big time.

“Have you heard back from him?” Well, no, the funeral was over a month ago. Leave the dead alone. Once something is buried, it’s not a good idea to dig it up again. It’s just not right.

“He’s an idiot…” Yes, true. Nuff said….

“Every pot has its cover.” Not true and if you looked at what was in my kitchen shelves, you would understand. I have pots and pans that haven’t had a cover since I can remember. In fact, most of my pots and pans are over 30 years old. Buying these things is just not something I do. I’m single so I manage as best as possible. If I have extra cash on hand, I am NOT going to spend it on pots and pans. I’m going to spend it on something much more important like another purse or shoes. These are the things that are important and not what I cook with.

So, here I am, 56 in a few days and single again. Does it bother me? Yes it does. It surely does. But I’ve decided to not worry about it, carry on with my career and family and friends and my writing. I’ve decided that I’m better off alone (again) then with someone who doesn’t “get me” and probably never will.

In the meantime, I have eaten an enormous amount of ice cream and had more than my share of wine, but that’s the way it goes.