I had a dream before you died
your house became a maze.
The walls had owls with yellow eyes.
We tried to find our way outside
but all the doors and windows
had somehow disappeared. Continue reading “Goodbye Home”
I had a dream before you died
your house became a maze.
The walls had owls with yellow eyes.
We tried to find our way outside
but all the doors and windows
had somehow disappeared. Continue reading “Goodbye Home”
(A (mostly) light-hearted Q&A poem based on things I’ve been asked about OCD.)
I had a wonderful two weeks at home for the holidays. My husband got through his surgery, and although his recovery was slow at first, he is up and around more every day.
During my time off I took care of both kids, helped Dan when he needed me, kept the house going, made lots of progress on the unpacking front, and dyed most of our holiday gifts. It was tiring but rewarding. Getting to spend all that time with the kids was awesome.
We had some visitors too. My dad and stepmom came for the surgery, and Dan’s twin brother came shortly afterward. Before the surgery his older brother came to visit with my sister-in-law and nephew. We went to an awesome drive-through light show.
We love our new house. We’ve started to get most things where they need to be and figure out how to use different spaces. We were able to get the home warranty to cover repairs on a few things that were broken, so all that’s left is to get a new roof, and that was paid for as part of the deal. Being closer to family is great, too. We are insanely grateful for all of it.
Now we just have to work together to extract me from my job and figure out some combination of new ones that will pay the bills. Even though the payment is slightly lower than rent, my job is still at risk and we’re at the “hatch an escape plan” point. Dan is studying for a certification test he needs to take, and I’m applying for random jobs that sound fun and less stressful.
Right before I left for the holidays, I put together the on-boarding plan I should have had the first week or two I worked here and sent it to my boss as my training request list. But I only have so much energy, and while I’m trying to make it work for the time being, I also need to spend some of that energy job-hunting and supporting Dan in his search.
I’d rather leave on my own terms and getting fired certainly would suck. But it’s less scary than it used to be. We have some savings left, and Dan has already been working with a career coach so we might just sign me up for him too (family discount? HA).
It is hard to come in every day, and not to let myself go straight to “fuck it all free-fall.” But having a possible end-date helps with that. And I get to go home to the most awesome family in the world, plus I have supportive, caring friends and family who are there to listen to me gripe when I need them and commiserate with their own unfortunate nutso work stories.
Here’s hoping 2019 is way less stressful than that Old Year.
Once a year or so
we traced mailbox letters,
traipsed turkey-scented hallways,
bore holiday bags and boxes
to dark doorways in strange buildings
where Mom tentatively knocked.
Continue reading “Year of the Hot Dog”
Yellow Tree
Leaves
wind-thinned
top-down
ombré golden gown
adorning
stark wet
black stick
bones. Continue reading “A tiny fall poem”
On Monday we close on our new house. All the obstacles have been overcome! We have various people coming to do work for a few days, then we move next weekend. I can’t wait to get settled into a new permanent spot where all our stuff can be out instead of half of it being crammed in the basement. I’m going to tie-dye before Christmas. Continue reading “Moving”
That night we drove down
a seemingly familiar street
that came to a sudden end
in a pool of darkness,
the weak beams of the headlights
no match for the swallowing void. Continue reading “Flood”
My niece just had her first baby and sent me the photos of my great-niece’s sweet little face—such bright eyes!—peeking out from under her hospital hat.
Since I can’t jump in the car and drive like a bat out of hell to the hospital where she’s at, I’m writing instead, reminiscing about the intense experience of having my own two babies. The first was nearly eight years ago and the second will be two years at the end of September.
I’ve complained before that being a functioning adult is tough sometimes. See previous post about the slog. But recently I had one of those days where it reminded me that part of my difficulty, genuinely, is that crazy shit happens to me on a regular basis.
On a recent Saturday I went to a large box store to pick up a grill I ordered for Dan’s birthday. The only reason I didn’t have this sent directly to my front porch is, Dan was home all week, and he’d have seen the huge box and probably opened it or figured out what it was. I wanted it to be a surprise. So I had it sent to the store. I just had that one place to go and one thing to do. I needed to pick up the grill (and its accessories) and buy a few other things at the same store. Easy, right? ONE store.
I got there and got my few things, then picked up the pick-up things. All was OK. The baby wanted to walk around on his own, and he even did that a bit and didn’t wreck too much stuff (I cleaned up what he did knock over in the toy aisle).
Then I went to check out. When I was checking out I said “I was just picking up these two things, so they’re already paid for. Let me know if you need to see the receipt.”
The kid behind the counter said “Oh, that’s OK. I can scan the bar code.” There were several bar codes on each item to choose from. He tried them all, and none seemed to work. Finally he got one to work on the charcoal bag but he could not get the one on the box to scan.
He paged someone for help. Another kid came over. She said “Oh, those are pick-up items. You don’t need to scan them.”
I said, feeling like someones sixty-year-old Aunt Barbara, “I think the charcoal got scanned. Can you make sure I don’t get charged for that since I already paid for it?”
The kid said “Oh, sure. No problem I’ll take it off.”
Great!
Then the kid picked up my six-pack of Oberon I was also getting for Dan’s birthday. “Oh. I can’t sell this…I’m not eighteen.” He turned to the other kid who had come to help. “Can you…”
She smiled and shrugged. “I’m not eighteen either.” She paged someone.
The guy who had originally given me my pick-up items came to the front. He went to scan my beer but he was logged in on another register so he had to page someone and get a code to log in again on that register or to log someone else in, I don’t know. I was just trying to keep my son entertained since we’d been there a while.
Everything finally got paid for and loaded. I got stopped at the door because I had the giant box and had to prove I’d picked up things and bought them too all in the same trip. Then I was free to go.
I rolled the caravan to the vehicle and unloaded. I got both kids strapped in. I was about to pull out when I thought “Huh, I should check that receipt…I forgot in all the chaos.” Oh look, nine bucks for charcoal.
I unstrapped the kids. I was really tempted to say the hell with it but…nine bucks. So we trooped back in and went to customer service. The same guy who had done the pick-up order and sold me the beer was at the customer service desk now. I said “Hey, it’s me again!” and told him I got charged for the charcoal I’d picked up.
He laughed and said “Oh, sorry about that! He can get you a refund,” and pointed to the guy next to him. That guy looked at my receipt and said “Oh, there’s only one on here,” so I showed him the pick-up email and told him there should be none on there. I finally got my nine bucks back. I think. I haven’t checked my credit card statement yet and I guess I’d better.
By then I was exhausted. Herding kids in stores is exhausting enough but I felt like I’d personally met every employee at that particular location and stood in every line they had to offer while I was herding the kids too.
I don’t know if it’s a typical part of adulthood but it happens to me a lot. I think I’m going to get one little thing done that day. It ends up feeling like I ran a marathon. I feel my patience draining out of me like sand through an hourglass. I do a good job at just keeping on going most of the time. I did feel like complaining to at least one of the twelve people I encountered at the one store, but it wouldn’t have done any good anyway.
You know how some people complain about kids these days, always wanting participation trophies? I think sometimes we should have them for adults too. Or maybe like the opposite of customer loyalty rewards, where instead of “thanks for being a frequent customer” the message is “Sorry you had a crappy experience” and you get a consolation prize.
The funny thing is, sometimes they do give those out to people who complain loudly, even when there’s nothing wrong! I’ve seen it happen at restaurants. “Here’s your free drink/appetizer/meal for not knowing how to order and being a difficult customer.” And as a parent I always hear “Reward good behavior instead of punish bad.”
We need an initiative to start handing out cookies or prizes when someone does a good job or someone else isn’t a jerk when they get bad service. Like adult parenting. Or an anti-asshole campaign. Maybe we could even collect “I wasn’t an asshole today” stamps and cash them in for prizes later.
Every citizen could get so many “not an asshole” stamps to share or dole out on a daily basis. When someone lets you go in traffic…beep and hand them one out the window. When you hear someone tell their kid not to kick your seat on the plane…give both the parent and the kid one. Store and restaurant managers could have a deck of these and they pass them out to customers when they know something crappy went down and the customer didn’t act like a fool.

The possibilities are endless! This could be a society-transforming idea.
If anyone wants to send cookies or prizes to me for sharing it I’d be glad to send you my addy. 😉