I suppose it could be worse
There's more than a few things that I just choose to not write about here. I don't discuss any fights that Kevin and I have because quite frankly, they're none of your business. And I don't talk about work because I happen to actually like my job and would like to keep it. And also, I would have to kill all of you if I tell you too much about the people who pay me. And for the most part, I do not talk about the dramas in my family, because these days they are small blips on the radar (and also, I'm pretty sure that my mom is reading this on occasion. Hi Mom!)
But today I finally reached the point where I simply Do Not Care about breaking that last rule a little bit because people, my father-in-law has reached new levels of assholery and therefore, I must rage about it.
Asshole and I have never had a great relationship. Not for lack of trying on my part; I'm a big believer in family and spending time together so I made sure that we made an effort to see them on a regular basis. We spent Christmas Eves with them, remembered to celebrate birthdays and other holidays with them on occasion. I didn't really understand why Kevin was always dragging his feet about calling them. But I understood after a few times with them.
The crux of the matter is that Asshole is the king of guilt throwing and passive-aggressive zingers. And man, he pissed me off every time we got together with them. His more stellar moments include:
-Neglected to invite his only son to Christmas Eve dinner with the rest of the family until we called to arrange something. He did invite us after that, and then right after he arrived hollered out to his sister "Hey J, tell Melinda about that diet you're on!" (The implication being that maybe the diet would work for me too.)
-Declared during another family gathering (with his side of the family) that the only reason he didn't get into UCLA was "because it was the 60's and affirmative action was starting and he wasn't a chink so he didn't get in". What. The FUCK.
-Became one of only two major stressors around the wedding due to his obesession with making us feel guilty for asking for money AFTER HE TOLD US TO TELL HIM WHAT WE NEEDED so he could write a check. Also, he did not come to the unrehersal dinner (and I suspect he blew us off so he could go to an SDSU alumni dinner, but that has not yet been proven).
-Tried to guilt us into inviting Kevin's cousins to the wedding...two weeks beforehand.
-Had the nerve to lecture us about his sisters "not getting enough face time" with us at the wedding....when his sisters left the wedding without saying anything to us, before dinner was served and without even waving hello to me.
-Asked Kevin if I didn't like him while they were out golfing. Oh, and then his wife sent a letter to my (totally awesome) mother-in-law to say that she didn't think I liked HER (the second wife). And repeatedly both Asshole and his wife has told people they see Kevin less now than they did when he lived in Sacramento (not true).
So basically, Kevin's father's side of the family seems to think that I am an evil bitch who has stolen Kevin away from his family. Kevin said it perfectly when he told his mom during one of our discussions about this mess that he's still the golden boy, the only son of the only son, and where it used to be Kevin's mom turning him away from them, now it's me. Well fuck them very much is what I have to say about that, because Asshole went way too far today.
See, The Procedure is happening on Friday, and Kevin told his dad about it when they went golfing a couple weeks ago. His only response then was that his wife had been hoping Kevin would change his mind about not having kids so that she'd have grandkids (never mind the fact that Kevin and I agreed long ago that if the world tuned upside down and we became parents, any child of ours would never be left alone with them). Then today, Asshole calls Kevin to see if he had a ride to The Procedure, because he "didn't want Melinda to have to miss any work." This from the same man who
did not call once to offer to help out when I broke my wrist, despite the fact that he is home all day and Kevin was missing work left and right to take me to all of my doctor's appointments. Apprently, he thinks I'm such a cold hearted bitch that I won't even give my husband a ride to the doctor on the day his balls will be disabled.
AND THEN! Then he went on to mention that "some people go through okay but some people end up swollen like balloons." Way to be supportive, DAD. Sheeit. Kevin figures Asshole's just trying to psyche him out so he won't destroy his glorious family's bloodline and name from dying out. Well, the joke's on him because instead of scaring Kevin away from it, he just gave us more reasons for not passing on those genes.
I'm sure that Asshole blames me for Kevin getting a vasectomy, just like I'm sure he blames me for his son not wanting to spend time around him. Little does he know that I'm the one who reminds his son to call him, who makes sure that we get together for holidays, who sends the Christmas cards. And for some reason, they don't seem to realize that treating his wife like crap is really not going to make Kevin want to spend copious amounts of time with them.
But I'm done. I'm done convincing Kevin to keep in touch with them; he's a grown man and I'm not going to force him to stay in touch with someone who makes him cringe and swear every time he talks to him, and I certainly don't feel like making an effort to hang out with people I can only tolerate if I'm drinking.
Fuck it. We are blessed with so many family members who love us and support us and who we have fun with. My mother-in-law is beyond super fantastic, and my aunts and uncles have welcomed Kevin with open arms. Life is too short for me to keep trying to win these people over, and they're just not worth it.
Man, it's hard being a grown-up.
Labels: crazy making, Kevin, life
There but for grace
It's gross and rainy and cold outside, which is odd for the middle of April in San Diego but seems more than appropriate.
It's been a bad week, full of entirely too much death. One coworker lost his father. Another, the other admin who I team with and who covered for me while I was out on disability, lost her mother. She's gone home and will be gone indefinitely (as well she should), which has meant I've had plenty to keep me busy. And being busy has kept me from being able to obsess over the other deaths that happened this week.
But my company is based in Virginia, and we have a lot of Hokies in the company family so I haven't been completely sheltered from it. There was a lot of maroon and orange seen around here today,and one of the other admins made ribbons for those of us without orange or maroon clothing to wear. And everything I've read on CNN has made me even sadder about the whole thing. The one aspect of it that I keep coming back to is the story about how his fellow classmates were so disturbed by his writings that they didn't want him in class with them. And the reason I keep going back to that part of the story is simple: because I was one of those nervous students once.
Back in 2001, I was taking a creative writing class at a local community college. I took it just because I wanted to write, to have someone teach me how to do it better. It was an evening weekday class so there were a lot of people like me in there...9-5ers looking for a creative outlet, and maybe some socializing. That class was where I met Otter, who I'm still friends with these 6 years later.
She and I had dinner together on Monday night in the course of playing "remember when?" about that class, the topic of the two really strange guys in the class came up. They were both middle aged, loners, generally unkept guys who tended to keep to themselves. One wrote horrible sci-fi and hated everything written by anyone else in the class. He was an asshat, but harmless.
The other guy rarely spoke and had a penchant for picking his nose in class, seemingly unaware of the people around him. He also had a penchant for writing violent, rambling stories.
The second story Nose Picking Guy submitted for critique by his group made all of them so uncomfortable that the entire group went to the teacher to warn her about it. It was basically a story involving a mass murder at a school, interspersed with violent rapes and mutilations.
It was worlds worse than anything I've read that was written by the VT gunman.
Our teacher was disturbed enough to report him to the Dean of Students. I remember the dean came to class and asked to see Nose Picking Guy outside. They were out there for a good 15-20 minutes, and then Nose Picking Guy returned to class. I have no idea what was said to him, but I do know he sat and seethed through the rest of class. All of us were uncomfortable about the whole situation. I don't know if any actions were taken other than that discussion. If I remember correctly, the class was almost over so I'm not sure if Nose Picking Guy was asked not to come to class anymore. I do know that no one tried to interact with him after that.
Thinking back on it in light of what happened Monday, I can't help but wonder what happened to that guy in my class. Did he stay creepy but harmless, writing violent slash fiction on his computer at home? Did he become a serial killer that no one knows about? Did he kill himself?
In
this essay, Stephen King says
"On the whole, I don't think you can pick these guys out based on their work, unless you look for violence unenlivened by any real talent."Cho Seung-Hui fit that description. So did Nose Picking Guy. So do a lot of other kids and adults out there. I'm lucky I've only come in contact with a few of them.
Virginia Tech was unlucky enough to come in contact with one of the worst of them.
So yeah, the rain and gloom fits my mood today. I'm too tired to cry, so let the sky do it for me.
Labels: life, news
For $5 I'll tell your fortune too
Last night, right before I went to bed, I suddenly had this horrible shooting pain in my arm bone, right around where the screws went in. It was definitely bone pain, and there was no apparent reason for it since all I was doing was sitting there watching TV. No knitting, no reading, just sitting there being lazy when all of a sudden whomp, pain!
"Ow", I said, trying to rub it away. "Why the heck is my arm hurting for no reason?"
Then I shrugged my shoulders as the pain started disappearing.
"Eh. It's gonna rain tomorrow. Or at least be cold and damp."
I was only halfway joking, but I don't think Kevin took me even halfway seriously. Until this morning, when the morning weather man on the TV said "You'll want to grab a jacket, and make it a rain jacket." Sure enough, it had been drizzling since the early morning hours.
Score one for my Bionic Wrist of Powah!
Guess I better look into becoming a meteorolgoist, huh?
Labels: broken wrist, life
One year down, 59 to go
One year ago....
This:
Plus this:
Became this:
Happy anniversary, Hubben. Can't wait to see what comes next. (Here's hoping it involves less injuries!)
Love, Woompty
Labels: Kevin, life, wedding
Oh, and I really need to get my nails done
I've started walking on a regular basis again, or at least a semi-regular basis. One of my coworkers has signed up to do the 3-Day this year too (not that I've managed to sign up yet, because I am apparently still the slackiest slacker who ever did slack), so we walk after work a few nights a week. And she is kicking my ASS, let me tell you. Not only is she taller than me, she also walks VERYVERYFAST in general so imagine me with my stubby little chunks of legs huffing to try and keep up. Oy. It was quite entertaining the first few times, I'll tell you what.
I've mentioned before how badly sitting on my ass for a few months doped up and eating food not cooked by me affected my ability to just go for a walk. The first couple of times we went out, I was barely able to make it a mile and a half. It was as though I had never walked or worked out or anything. Ugh, I hated every minute of feeling that way. Really, it was kind of embarrassing. Here I am someone who's always going on and on about being a healthy fat girl who's still able to be really active and then all of a sudden I wasn't.
But Tall Chick kept at me and kept me going out there and now we're at the good part. We've found our mutual stride at about an 18 minute mile, and now a five mile walk whizzes by as we chatter. I kind of love what happens when you start walking with someone on a regular basis. We always got along before now but I didn't really know much about her, at least not any more than she knew about me. But when you're walking together for an hour or so, there's not much else you can do but talk to each other. We talk about our dysfunctional families, the goofy things our husbands do, my upcoming surgery, the goofy things our managers do. Oh, and food. We totally talk about food because both of us love it more than we should.
It's so weird to me, food talking with one of the Skinny People. Because Tall Chick is totally skinny. She's tall and she's fit and has a body I wish I could magically morph into. But she has some of the same kinds of food obsession I have. Like Mexican food. Both of us could eat Mexican food every day if it wasn't for the whole 50 gatrillion calories thing. And cheese. And really good bread. She's the first skinny person I've described my weigh in day routine to (on my WW weigh in days, I follow a very strict eating plan that involves a light breakfast, Jamba Juice for lunch and 3-4 liters of water through the day to flush everything out, because I am delusional and believe it helps me post a better loss) (yes, this is totally fucked up thinking) (no, I will not stop doing this), and when I told her, she totally laughed and empathized. But she didn't empathize by talking about how fat she was; she just told me her story about weigh in routines. And that? Bodes very well for us walking together on the 3-Day.
In other news, yesterday was my very last physical therapy appointment. I'm actually going to miss going to PT, although I definitely won't miss having to drag my ass out of bed an hour early so I could make it to my 7am appointments. My therapist was funny, and smart, and really experienced, and she only hurt me because she had to. Actually, everyone at the office I went to was funny, smart, and good at their jobs. And! It was all women who worked there. Who knew upper extremity rehab was such a popular job field for women?
Anyway, I'm still nowhere near 100% and my surgeon said he was going to put a permanent restriction on my lifting abilities (no more than 20 pounds with both hands, says he) (so Abbie better not gain any more weight, is all I'm saying). Next week I go in for my final evaluation to find out exactly how permanently disabled I am, and apparently, they are then going to throw free money at me. Seriously, I am really good at injuring myself in ways that end up paying out at later dates. I'd prefer not having the hunk of metal in my arm though, quite frankly.
You'll all be happy to know that there will be no mac & cheese involved in our anniversary celebration this weekend, as appropriate as it may have been. Instead, we've decided to play tourist in our hometown and will be staying at
this swanky hotel tomorrow night. As luck would have it, our favorite Thai place has opened a second restuarant just 6 blocks away from the hotel so we'll even be able to have a nice date night, capped off by a showing of
Grindhouse, because nothing says "Happy Anniversary!" like blood spatter and zombies.
On Sunday we'll be breaking the seal on the
top layer of our wedding cake and having cake and champagne for dinner. I have high hopes for it being well-preserved since it's been wrapped in 5 layers...an inch of fondant followed by wax paper, cling wrap, tin foil and a taped up box. It's a heck of a lot of cake though, so we invited people to come over and eat it with us.
Thus far, we have one person definitely coming and a couple of maybes. Stupid Easter, especially this year when it's a rare "Easter For Everyone!" weekend. Seriously, it's like the big mammajamma of spring holidays this year...Passover, Orthodox Easter and "regular" Easter are all happening this weekend. So basically, all of our friends will be with their families and none of them will be celebrating with us, so no cake for them. And more champagne for me.
Hooray!
