And I'm gonna be 40...in 10 days!!!

Things are so hectic and weird and jumbled in my brain right now that none of this will probably even make any sense, but I see I have not written anything since November 14 and that is just way too long to not blog (i.e. send my strangerfriend Native Minnow a lengthy personal message that he, and he alone reads).

I really like the person who has been hired to replace me. First, my boss hired a woman who came in to train with me for one day then kept telling us that she couldn't come in again because her furnace had broken (she miraculously drew this excuse out for FIVE days until my boss finally told her to forget it.) He then hired a GUY which is a huge deal because my boss typically only hires women (explanation and analysis available upon request, but who really cares now, I'm outta there!). So, now there will be 14 women and 2 men with some much-needed counteractive testosterone in the office. So I've been training this very nice man since last Friday. He is married with two dogs, five years older than I and, as it turns out, also went to the same high school I did. He is very eager and truly grateful to have landed this job which makes me very happy because that is how it should be. I have been feeling hateful and resentful of it for way too long now, so I am delighted that it will be going to someone who is both competent and appreciative.

Unfortunately, the pie business research has been on hold while I wrap things up. Truly, I am just burned out and need a break to declutter both my house and my mind, both of which I have sorely neglected as of late. I have applied for a few jobs, but have heard nothing. Normally that would make me quite nervous, but I have an odd calm about this whole thing. I am just so looking forward to some down time to collect my thoughts. I feel like it will fall into place, though I don't really have any good logical reasons that should lead me to believe this. I just do.

I just started my Christmas shopping yesterday. I was going to forego putting up the tree entirely, but my grandfather inadvertently made me feel too guilty about that during the Steeler game on Sunday, so I put it up immediately after I went home. Even though I didn't want to do it, I realized that he deserves a decorative, festive environment in which to relax and feast. This will be the first Christmas without my grandma and you never know if it will be the last for him or any of us. We're having dinner at my place, so I did the freakin' tree.



I must say, the photo doesn't really do it justice. It's prettier than this in person. Yes, you're right, I have ugly, dated vertical blinds.

My friend is going through a divorce. It's been difficult for me to witness him experiencing so much turmoil and pain. It's also hard to know the right things to say, but he seems to be doing better now, so that has been a relief to me. It's so much easier to see things rationally from the outside in. He's seeing someone now who I consider unworthy of his affection. As a friend listening to the situation, you find yourself wanting to protect them and point out the obvious negatives about the person with whom they are having a bad relationship and scream, "For God's sake, run!" but obviously, you can't do that. I tried to listen and give good, objective advice without sounding too critical or forceful. Not an easy task for me because I'm so opinionated and fiercely protective of my friends. But he said I did a good job and he seems to be doing much better with staying the course, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. One thing I do know is that I wouldn't wish divorce on my worst enemy. It's been interesting and enlightening for me to hear things from a male perspective, however. This friend and I went to school together, but didn't really become close until the last two years or so. So many people my age are going through such heavy experiences. I've had my own this year, as well. This middle age thing sort of blows big time in many ways. But overall, I think it's been more liberating and good than not.

So, in summary - 10 days 'til 40, and 10 days 'til freedom. Let the countdown begin... :) ~M1L

Empathy and Cuteness

Here is a picture I just took from my window at 3:49 p.m. here in Pittsburgh. It is 52 degrees, cold, rainy, and dreary. Unfortunately, I could have taken this photo at 9:00 a.m. and achieved the same result.


It doesn't even look as bad as it really is, but trust me. For added fun, the chain on my garage door opener just snapped, so I'm going to have to park outside in this awfulness for a little while until I can get it fixed because I'm not really interested in repeatedly getting in and out of my car for the whole manual opening/closing process, if ya' know what I mean? It's also a more than a slight problem that I don't have the key to lock it from the outside. *Sigh*.

On the bright side, here is a picture I took of Romeo on Friday. Much more enjoyable, in spite of his cast. What a little trooper. If he can't bitch, neither should we, right?



Right. :) ~M1L

Humane Society...Wherefore Art Thou?

I work in the same building as a dog grooming salon where one of the employees (also named Michele) is very active in rescuing and placing abused animals. She brought a 4 month old black maltipoo puppy to our office this afternoon because she wanted my boss and his wife to adopt him. I don't know all of the details of the puppy's history, except that the sweet little thing was extremely thin and poorly groomed had a cast on his front left leg because the previous owner's grandchild had stepped on it and broken it. The owner apparently did not seek immediate medical attention for him and when she finally did take him to the vet, she said she couldn't afford the surgery and wanted to just "let it go" and take him back home. He still needs surgery that will cost between $1,500 and $2,000, but somehow the vet or some decent soul was able to rescue the puppy and get him out of the hands of this cretin.

So, my boss and his wife are planning to take this puppy and get him the surgery he needs. They already have two other dogs that will be happy to have a brother, as well (they are naming this little guy Romeo because he is so incredibly loving). It sort of killed me, because I really wanted to take him. I held him like a baby all afternoon and he really took a liking to me. My own "only child" alpha dog would probably not be very happy about him, however, so I was conflicted. My boss really wants him, though, so I agreed to just be the godmother. :)

The good part of this story is that dog groomer Michele came up to our office later in the afternoon while I was still holding Romeo. We started talking about how adorable and loving he was, how terrible it was that anyone could even think of mistreating or neglecting an animal, and how people who do these things should rot in prison and hell with untreated broken limbs, etc., etc., etc.

I said, "If my dog needed surgery and I couldn't afford it, I would be out panhandling and begging on the street if I had to."

Before I could even finish the sentence, Michele said, "I'd be out selling my ass!!!" And exclaimed this while sticking out her bum in demonstration.

So the moral is, sleep well, my friends - there are still good, virtuous, and exceptionally generous human beings in this world who would sell their asses to save a dog's leg.

Thank you, God. Hallelujah and Amen. ~M1L

Just In Case

Yesterday was the most gorgeous day we've had in Pittsburgh weather-wise since EVER. I actually sneaked (snuck?) away from my family and the Steeler game to go for a short walk that turned into a LONG walk so I could take some photos of the autumn beauty. In case anyone other than Minnow reads this, I thought I'd post some of my favorites for your enjoyment. But I know only Native Minnow reads this, so Native Minnow, please forgive the redundancy from my Facebook page. :)

P.S. For anyone out there who may be questioning the existence of God, you may wish to view the following while listening to Def Leppard's greatest hits album (Vault). It's all the proof you'll ever need. No need to thank me (although don't get me wrong, I'd certainly love to hear from you).

Peace & all things lovely, ~M1L

There's no crying in property management

So my boss groveled and played upon my guilt and fear and I ended up agreeing to stay for the time being. I'm so sick about this topic that I don't really feel like talking about it or boring one more single person with it, but I didn't want to leave you hanging, because I know several of you were out there waiting to hear about the outcome with baited breath. So the end result is that my pig-bitch co-worker has the distinct honor of being the only employee in our company's 20 year history to have a disciplinary warning in her newly-created personnel file. Exhale, my friends. Everything's gonna be alright.

I quit. I... I think I quit.

So I quit my job on Friday morning. Yes, I'm serious. One of my co-workers is an abusive pain in my ass and I've had it. I've pretty much kept it to myself and just dealt with her snottiness for years, but on Friday, it actually interfered with my ability to do my job. My boss knew about it and seemingly refused to address it which both hurt and angered me. He told me to go home for the day (supposedly to "cool off") and I told him I quit.

My boss had two of my friends/co-workers call me and try to talk me out of it to no avail. He subsequently called me on Friday evening and I wouldn't pick up the call. He left me a message on Friday night asking me to call him back. I didn't.

I sent him an e-mail on Saturday afternoon saying I'd be in on Monday morning to clean out my personal belongings. An hour later he sent me an apologetic e-mail asking me to reconsider and talk to him tomorrow morning about the situation when I go in. I agreed. I still think nothing will be done, as I have a few very specific conditions that must be adhered to if I am ever going to return.

It should be interesting and I'll let you know how the showdown goes. My guess is that I will be filing for unemployment benefits on Tuesday. In the meantime, I tried to enjoy the beautiful autumn weather and Steelers win against the Browns. Regrettably, I still have no photos of Steelers garb...only these beauties from North Park. As I've only the shown the ugly view from my ugly office thus far, I feel it's my duty to share some of the finer views around the place from whence I've come. Post-apocalyptic, my butt. :)

For Minnow Only...Screw the Rest of You Non-Readers

It appears you are currently on the road, but I'm finally getting around to uploading these beautiful pictures I took of lovely Pittsburgh, PA. I love many things about Pittsburgh, truly, but now you will likely understand why the environment occasionally pleads with me to slit my throat. This is the view outside my office window:



















Then this was the view from the car on my way home:



I know I forgot the mandatory Steeler garb. Next time.

Totally unrelated P.S. and speaking of fat ones: A few years ago, a co-worker and I once simultaneously created e-Harmony accounts for kicks. You may be shocked by this, but our scientifically selected highly compatible "soul mates" happened to be pretty much all the same guys. Funny because she and I couldn't be more different and she's also about 7 years older than I am, to boot. We both once had match from a guy who said in his profile that he didn't like overweight women or hypocrites. His photo was taken while sitting on a huge tractor with his ass pouring out of both sides the seat. He was wearing overalls, weighed at least 300 pounds, and looked like he was the long lost son of Junior Samples from Hee Haw and one of the sows from the set. I'd like to think it was a joke, but I'm about 99.9% sure it wasn't. I thought about meeting him and some of the other clowns on there and writing a book about it, but since I had neither a black belt in karate, nor a good can of mace at the time, I sort of scrapped the idea.



Fond regards ~M1L

I can ride and wield a blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.

I've been thinking of getting this tattoo on my ankle/foot for close to a year now. What are your thoughts? Should I go for it? Hot or not? Honestly.




I kinda fear permanency, but that's why I kinda think I should do it. What's another 40 years or so, really?

"They're hicks, Rita."

Having one of those mornings where I'm thinking, "What is even the point of all of this?" Everything seems totally mundane and ridiculous and exhaustingly repetitive. I need a different job so bad but I read this very scary article this morning:

http://finance.yahoo.com/focus-retirement/article/110742/for-the-unemployed-over-50-fears-of-never-working-again?mod=fidelity-changingjobs&cat=fidelity_2010_changing_jobs

Of course, I'm not over 50, but still I worry. The thing is, I really like to eat and buy stuff. And my dog really enjoys eating and having stuff bought for him, too. In spite of how miserable work is, I have total job security. Unfortunately (or fortunately, from my boss's POV), there will never be a shortage of dog poop to bitch about and never enough people to field calls from the mentally ill. I just don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stomach it before becoming one myself.

Oh, and Mr. U is just awful. He's just not a good human being and this fact continues to rear its ugly head in spite of my repeated attempts to ignore this and focus on the more appealing body parts until this miraculously changes. It's an insurmountable problem. So, honest to God, I'm quitting it. This will be the last post in which his moniker is mentioned.



R.I.P. ~M1L

Show Me Your Boots

I bought some senseless super-sexy thigh high black leather Nine West boots at Marshall's on Saturday night for the low, low price of $60. I was initially unsure of whether I should purchase them because I'm a horrible shopper, so I came up with the brilliant idea of taking a picture of the boots on my cell phone to ask my friend whether I should buy them. Her texted response was "Fuk YES!!! Those are AWESOME!!! Buy me a pair, size 9!" So, I bought a pair for myself, a pair for my friend, along with another pair of silver BCBGeneration 5" heels that were on the clearance rack for $15. It was a sexy shoe night and I was quite happy. My friend was in New York visiting her boyfriend, so when I came home, I tried on the boots and took a picture of myself to send to her so she could see what they looked like.


Fast forward to this morning when I brought the boots to the office for my friend, who is also a co-worker. I also brought the silver heels so she could see them, per her request. My other friend/co-worker with whom I work closely is like a second mom to me. She is 62 years-old and just the greatest. As she knows me well, she was super-impressed and surprised by my purchases because she knows I hate to shop and even though I do have a fondness for nice clothes and an even greater affection for sexy, slutty shoes, I rarely go out and spend my money on that sort of thing. My wardrobe, particularly for work, is usually quite simple.


Anyway, my second mom-friend made me try on the silver shoes so she could see me walk in them, which I did. The boots I had for my friend were in a larger size, so I said I had a picture from Saturday of what I looked like in the boots. I got out my phone and showed her. The picture turned dark, so I hit a button to lighten it up so second mom could see. What showed up bright and clear was a picture of my boobs that I sent to Mr. U a few weeks ago that was still in my memory card.

Yes boobs, not boots. Not a typo, though you have no idea how much I wish it were.



I should say she THOUGHT she knew me well. ~M1L

Career Highlight of the Week

I am a property manager for condominium associations and planned unit developments. Now that we've got that boring preface out of the way and if you're still awake, allow me to share the funniest conversation I had this week with a homeowner who lives in a patio home community. I'll call it "Centenarian Commons" because most of the residents seem to be about 75 and over even though it is not a retirement community. Please also allow me to preface this story by saying that I admire and respect our older citizens and enjoy working with older people more than any other segment of the population. I also think that if you are a human being able to reach 90 that everything should be totally complimentary and free because good lord, no matter what, you've earned it.

So, I got a LOUD voice mail from "Mrs. K." that went something like this:

"Yes, Michele, this is Mrs. K from 403 Centenarian Drive. You know they took this tree down a year ago, but now the roots are growing back again into my flower bed and into the yard next to me. This needs to be taken care of right away because it's killing my flowers and they can't even mow the grass over them. Please call me right away and let me know what is going to be done about this."

So the thing is, even though the management company handles all other exterior maintenance issues, we do not handle the landscaping at this particular property. The landscaping chairperson on the Board has opted to deal with the landscaping company directly. As a result, I called the landscaping chairperson and relayed the message. The chairperson said she would ask the landscaper to address the problem and then said insistently, "But I'm NOT calling Mrs. K." To which I replied, "That's ok, I'll call her back and let her know that I gave you the message and that it will be handled by the landscaper shortly."

Proceeded to call Mrs. K...

Mrs. K: Hello?

M1L: Hi Mrs. K, this is Michele from [the management company].

Mrs. K: Who?

M1L: Michele from [the management company]. You called about the tree roots? I just wanted to let you know that we don't handle the landscaping issues for your property, but I called [landscaping chairperson] and told her about the problem with the roots and she is going to have the landscaper address it as soon as possible.

Mrs. K: I can't understand a word you're saying. You're talking way too fast and you're going to have to speak up.

M1L: OK...can - you - hear - me - now?

Mrs. K: Yes.

M1L: (Very LOUDLY and SLOWLY) I just wanted to let you know that I got your message regarding the tree roots. I called [landscaping chairperson] and reported it to her.

Mrs. K: Oh okay, so you're saying I'm allowed to drive?


Not exactly. ~M1L

Unbelievable Text Session with Mr. Unavailable That Confirms I'm an Idiot

There has been a recent attempt to establish a normal relationship with Mr. U, but it is somewhat futile once you have permitted a fuckbuddy scenario, as evidenced by the following text exchange I'm about to share with you. Mr. U is so incredibly sexy, but the most emotionally vacant person I have ever encountered in my life, seriously. Let me say that we HAVE had good conversations and we HAVE enjoyed each other's company in a non-sexual way on occasion, but it never seems to last or go anywhere. There's a really odd barrier to achieving any actual intimacy, which I cannot quite figure out. So, for the last two years I have found it incredibly difficult to believe that he is interested in me for sex only and have continued to affiliate with him off and on thinking that I could somehow turn this around. And I have wasted WAY too much time on this endeavor because in my heart, I know it's not going to happen. It just kills me because, physically, he is my ideal. So then I try to tell myself that I can just do the sex thing...no harm in that, right? We're both single. However, I can't even enjoy the sex for what it is after exchanges like the following. This occurred after Mr. U asked what we were doing this weekend because he always needs to have an agenda of exactly what will go down (no pun intended) when we see each other. For example, when I said we could get together tonight, this ridiculous line of questioning ensued:

Mr. U: Will there be smooching?

M1L: Yep!

Mr. U: Licking?

M1L: You never know!

Mr. U: Talking?

M1L: I'm sure you probably have lots to tell me, no?

Mr. U: I'm a regular chatty kathy. (He says he doesn't like to talk much, but he is quite capable once he gets going.)

M1L: Yes u are! Me 2. I like our talks though...serious.

Mr. U: Good! :)

M1L: Lol...you're glad one of us does! ;)

Mr. U: I don't mind it at all.

M1L: Dont mind??? Lol (At this point I'm offended and ticked.)

Mr. U: Yep.

Mr. U: U like the sex?

M1L: I don't mind it at all!

Mr. U: Wisenheimer... ;)

'Nuff said. I hate myself today. ~M1L

I did a bad, bad thing.

Had some pretty awesome sex with Mr. U last night after a long talk/ride in the car and then going to see a very funny movie. I am weak and ashamed. Also happy and relaxed. No big deal, right? Right. I didn't think so.

So, of course it is. Yes, I realize it was a dumbass move. But it had been months. Months. Four of them. OK?

I know. Oh well. ~M1L

Marriage, Divorce, and the Pursuit of Happiness

I remember when I was 26 years old I attended a post-wedding shower for one of my friends who was very excited to have married a moronic, abusive thug. A man who, and I'm not kidding, once sent her a card after one of their many fights signed, "Love, Dumby." (Translation: He was referring to himself as a "dummy" for having argued with her. Even Harder to Believe Side Note: She actually showed me this embarrassing missive thinking it would endear him to me and make me think he was less of a raging lunatic asshole.) They had to run away to Hawaii to elope (knowing that her parents would refuse to pay for or attend a "real" wedding at home), and I remember thinking that the union would last two years, tops. I think it lasted 18 months. Anyway, I reluctantly attended this post-wedding shower that was mostly attended by my friend's extended and new family, along with her best friend, another 26 year-old woman who was engaged and in the process of planning her own wedding to a man who believed she was a virgin, even though the truth was she had been quite promiscuous as a college student and had even once been pregnant. She saw absolutely nothing wrong with lying to her future husband about this, but I digress. So, aside from myself and this assclown engaged friend, the rest of the room was filled with older married women. In front of everyone, assclown engaged friend loudly and condescendingly asked, "So Michele, why is it that you don't seem to have any interest in getting married?" As I was mentally stammering and struggling to come up with a witty response other than my standard, "Well, I'm in law school right now and kind of busy and I just haven't met the right person...," my friend's aunt interjected and said, "'Cause she's clearly the only intelligent one in this room!" Thank you, Aunt Dorothy, I still love you.

Of course, I have absolutely nothing against marriage and at the time I actually did have high hopes of finding my very own Prince Charming to lie to...er, I mean love with all my heart. But the truth is, I don't know one person my age right now who is happily married. One of my friends is really struggling with whether it is more important to keep a commitment to a listless marriage that is financially secure, but more like a friendly roommate situation, or try to be a truly happy person, alone but with a renewed optimism, spirit, and opportunity to find soulful, passionate love. He has no children, which makes the decision less complicated, but it's still agonizing, nevertheless.

How important is one's true happiness in the scheme of things? My grandmother used to say that true happiness was simply the absence of chaos. But don't we think we should be aiming for more than that? Is there really any honor in upholding a commitment that perpetuates boredom, apathy, or misery? Do we deserve to pursue happiness at the expense of others'? Of course, it's thoroughly wretched to hurt people emotionally, but isn't it also horrible to straddle the fences of mediocrity and resignation in order to avoid it? What are the karmic implications of that?

I'm not sure. ~M1L

Good Day

A little background...I grudgingly moved back to Pittsburgh 4-1/2 years ago after a failed relationship. By failed relationship I mean that the man that I very foolishly became engaged to was someone who I later discovered was a sociopath and a criminal, as well as still legally married to someone else even though I was told that he was not only divorced, but the marriage was also annulled. Although all signs from the aforementioned statement point to me being a very stupid woman, I can assure you that intellectually I am not, which is why the whole situation was an extreme embarrassment to me. It nearly broke me in every way possible, including financially, as I basically handed over everything to my "future husband" while under the impression that we were creating a fabulous life together. I also (again, beyond foolishly) gave him access to my substantial lines of credit, which were, of course, substantially abused. We had moved to another state and, in order to escape him quickly and completely, I left with virtually nothing. I stuffed as many personal items as I could fit into my Ford Focus ZX-5 and headed back home, pretty much crying all the way, experiencing unprecedented feelings of betrayal and failure that devoured my soul.

I had to find a job very quickly even though I wanted to curl up in a ball and die (I allowed myself two weeks of ball curling and sobbing). It was mid-January and I was miraculously hired for the first job for which I interviewed by a very nice man who owned an established and reputable company. About a year later, I came up with an ancillary business idea that I presented to him. At the time, he did not want to invest in the idea, but said that I should continue with it on my own and he would send as much business my way as possible. So, with limited time and funds, I created a sole proprietorship and it gradually became a solid, substantial supplement to my income. I felt the idea was capable of much more growth than I was able to generate on my own, but I was content. The short of the story is that a few weeks ago my boss approached me out of the blue with an offer to buy my business. And about an hour ago, I deposited a sizable check into my account.

Of course, I was happy about the transaction, but as I was driving out of the bank parking lot a song came on the radio that was popular at the time I moved back home. The song is about getting over a bad relationship and I would hear it at that time and think "I'm never going to get over this." I hadn't heard it in so long, but when I heard it this time, it brought an unexpected flood of emotion because I am over it. I'm where I truly didn't think I'd be this soon - and I'm truly happy. I have fantastic friends, a loving family, and I've found myself again. It's been quite a journey. I thanked God out loud with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat.

It's a good day. ~M1L

Are You What You Are or What?

Well, I came to the realization today that I am an impatient bitch. The evidence:

1) I am teaching someone how to design websites due to the fact that I recently sold my business. This person has an HTML background, but is not picking up on the WYSIWYG program that I use at a pace I consider satisfactory and asks me questions and says stupid crap to me all damned day. It probably took me about a month to figure out the program several years ago when I purchased it, as I had no background and learned simply from trial and error and reading, which this person clearly has no desire to do. If I had a question back then, I had to ask the empty office air for a response. But, you see, I had respect for the fact that the air was busy doing it's own thing and had more important things to do, like helping me breathe and exist, so I didn't bother it and proceeded to figure things out on my own. Yes, you are correct, sir...I am an impatient bitch.

2) My boss has allowed one of my co-workers to bring her two extremely ill-behaved daughters to work for the last two days. I think we still have one day to go. They run up and down the main hallway to our office and expel blood-curdling screams at regular intervals while trying to swordfight each other with wooden rulers. The older one (who is six) also plays "cheerleader" and says and does very weird things like tape a long piece of ribbon to her ass with an empty water bottle tied at the other end and says, "Look at my tail!" To which I responded, "That's inconvenient..." which cracked up my other co-worker (not the mom) for some reason, most likely in recognition that I am an impatient bitch.

Perhaps my recitation of events doesn't seem so bad, but believe me, my mindset in the midst of them is one of thorough annoyance and disdain. When did this transformation occur? I don't quite know.

I guess love me or leave my impatient bitch ass as is. ~M1L

More Texting Fun with Mr. Unavailable

M1L: Why u wana have sex with me? Would think you have several other prospects from which to choose...

Mr. U: nope

M1L: Oh I see then...killin time til a better one appears!

Mr. U: have fun later...dont want to go down this path with an argument

M1L: Not an argument at all.

Mr. U: :)...text me tomoro if u wana have coffee


Right. ~M1L

Text from Mr. Unavailable

Mr. U: Wana have wild monkey sex with me?

M1L: Ooooh...what does that entail??? You're not gonna throw poo or anything are you?

WTF?

So what if Mel Gibson is a cheating, wife leaving, wife beating (oops, I mean baby mama beating), misogynistic, threatening, deranged, racist, hypocritical, narcissistic, pathetic-excuse-for-a-man addict? Hey...he's a "Christian" and he's a brilliant artist, so just lay off our man. He's only HUMAN, after all...at least he had the decency to keep his bigotry and abusive behavior under wraps at home where it belonged (and blame it on addiction when necessary) so we could all continue to be entertained. These bitches should only be opening their mouths for one thing. Poor rich, handsome, privileged, talented Mel...yes, you sure do deserve to be blown with a smile...hope all of your dreams continue to come true.

More Magnetic Poetry (Romance Edition)

One night of paradise
in a wild naked world
Your throaty voice whispers pleasure
and devours my soul
Do me sex goddess!
Soak me with sweet honey,
our soft tongues entwined.
Come hard and want me...
never love.

~M1L

Magnetic Poetry

Why worry, woman?
Change is up to you.
Love yourself.
The universe will follow suit
and present you with a smile.

~M1L

Death Therapy

Something terrifying happened to me this morning. Several hours after my ice cream dinner, I took two cherry-flavored Pepto-Bismol tablets before I went to bed because I had an upset stomach. I woke up feeling pain-free, but with an awful taste in my mouth. I went to brush my teeth, looked in the mirror and froze with horror. In my mouth, I saw THE MOST DISGUSTING AND SCARY THING EVER!!! Let me just say they need to put HUGE fucking warning labels on the Pepto box because had it not been for the internet, I would have been convinced I was dying and headed straight to the emergency room. Here is a similar story I found from a kindred spirit:

http://www.consumersavvytips.org/an_odd_side_effect_from_peptobismol.html

So thanks, Proctor & Gamble! I'll be sending you the bill for my new bottle of Listerine, new toothbrush, and newly requisite anti-anxiety meds. ~MIL

I just had ice cream for dinner.

It was Birthday Cake on a sugar cone from Bruster's. Someone also shared some Coconut M&M's with me this morning, and they were quite tasty. About three hours later I ate a grilled chicken sandwich from Wendy's for lunch that had the consistency of a latex glove. Why am I sharing this? I don't know. Slow day. It's a lesson about the peaks and valleys, I suppose. That and getting fat. ~M1L

With Love and Gratitude

It has been awhile since I've written. My grandmother passed away two weeks ago on June 14. It was the heaviest experience of my life, which is no small thing considering it was 39 and a half years in the making. The ordeal was an incredibly odd succession of horrible and magical moments, mostly horrible in quantity, but soul strengthening in entirety, to say the least.

At around 4:15 p.m. on the Thursday before my grandma died, my mother had called me at my office and told me that I should come right away, as my grandmother was declining substantially (speaking incoherently, twitching, couldn't see clearly). Earlier that afternoon Grandma had said to my mother, "God is calling me, but I'm not ready to go." Hearing that comment was somewhat startling to me, as my grandmother was not a particularly religious person, save the comment she had made to the doctor a few weeks earlier who asked why she didn't want to eat any food (she said, "That's between me and Jesus.") Within about two hours, she had closed her eyes for good and started the labored breathing, still convulsing (I found out later that when the kidneys break down, minerals start to build up in the blood and cause this). Of course, it was awful to witness. Her mouth had drooped wide open (I kept thinking her emaciated face looked exactly like that painting, "The Scream"), and her breathing and the twitching got progressively slower. She was also a total skeleton, as the renal failure had severely affected her appetite over the last several months. She truly looked like a Holocaust victim with every single rib bone showing and her heart visibly beating out of her chest. She had to be bathed, re-positioned, and changed on a regular basis, which these wonderful nurse's aides did with such care and kindness. They reaffirmed my strained faith in humanity more than they could have possibly realized, as they expressed clear purpose and pleasure in doing a job that most would perceive as repulsive and grueling - they were true angels of mercy. Every night, the staff would tell us that she would likely die, but she continued to hold on, virtually lifeless and to the point where you would think that it couldn't possibly get any worse...but it would. The hospice nurse assured us that she knew we were there and could hear us, as the hearing is the last sense to be lost.

My grandfather's 81st birthday was that Friday. We were not going to go out to dinner as planned, of course, because neither my mother or I wanted her to die alone. My grandfather was too ill himself to sit with her for any extended period of time, so it was up to us. A visiting minister/spiritual counselor from the hospice had told my mother that day, "It is important to leave your mother alone at times. It is very common that people will wait until their loved ones have left before passing, and sometimes it is crucial for them to have that space in order to let go." I have heard this edict several times since, as well. So, we nervously went to dinner. We came back within two hours and things were the same. I was sort of shocked because my grandmother has a son who died before I was born (she believed, as I do, that she would somehow be reunited with him after passing) and she had been saying she wanted to die for a very long time. I read an article on a hospice website that indicated that the physical and spiritual ending do not always coincide in the death process. Sometimes people will hold on to work out their spiritual issues even though it is a struggle for them to hold on physically, and vice versa. As I said, my grandma spoke incoherently in those last two hours before she essentially became comatose. However, she repeated an estranged relative's name very clearly at least three times. My grandma rarely spoke of this person, so it was a surprising utterance. In addition, she squeezed my hand pretty regularly, even in that state. At one point, I had let go because I had to go to the bathroom. She let out a groan and twitched her hand repeatedly, but immediately calmed after I told her where I was going and that I would be right back. This was at a time when you would have never thought she had a clue I was even there.

The night before she died I had stayed alone with her all night because my mom and I had started to do longer shifts alone at that point, whereas previously we were staying together and going home to sleep individually at very short intervals. At 10:30 a.m. my mom arrived and I left so that I could go to work in the afternoon, as the hospice nurse had told my mother that she had seen people live in my grandma's state for as long as two weeks, even in the totally emaciated and deteriorated condition she was in. I had mentioned to my mother privately that, upon greater thought and reflection of the article I read, perhaps it was pissing my grandma off that we kept telling her it was ok to go, like we actually wanted her to die, or something (I loved her dearly, but the woman was easily offended). I said to my mother, "I've said everything I need to say to her. From now on, I'm just going to be there for her by holding her hand and telling her that I'm still there and I love her." Later that afternoon my mom told her, "Mom, I'm sorry if you think by what we said that we won't miss you or that we want you to die. We just love you and we don't want you to suffer anymore...but you go when you want!!!" (in a really cute, funny tone.) A few hours later, my mom was holding her hand and said "Mom, I'm going to the bathroom and then outside to make a phone call (to a friend who had called her), I'll be right back, though." My mom left for about five minutes and when she came back, my grandma had passed.

At 6:30 p.m. my mom called me at my office, which is only about 5 minutes away from the nursing home, so when I got there, her body was still warm. She looked completely at peace, and it gave me an overwhelming sense of peace, as well. I was so sad, but relieved she was no longer in pain. Like I said, it was a both draining and replenishing experience for me beyond what I could have expected in spite of hearing similar stories about the dying process from others throughout my life. The love and care people showed us was so touching. In a thoughtful note I received after her passing, one of my friends said I could take comfort in the fact that my grandmother is now "restored." I adore that thought. As trite or obvious as it may seem, I experienced a deep feeling of certainty that all love is eternal and beyond any intellectual measure or boundary. And in the midst of the painful feelings of loss, I gained an even greater appreciation of the beauty and perfection of life and its mystery. I would be sitting with my grandma and have very clear memories of happy times with her in my childhood that I hadn't thought of in years. It made me wonder if she was revisiting those thoughts at the same time, too. There is certainly a void and I miss her, but I am grateful, especially for having the time to tell her how much I loved her and how much she meant to me in my life. That I was able to do that and be there for her in the end was truly a gift. ~M1L

Yeah.

I'm done doing that thing I've been doing. Just wanted you to know. ~M1L

Wrinkle Story

I found a face wrinkle above my eyebrow the other morning. I thought to myself, "Oh that must be just because I'm still dealing with wake-up squint." Plus, I've been really stressed, too, so I'm a little tense. Proceeded to relax the face. Proceeded to realize that aforementioned facial crevice had not and will not EVER disappear, even in a relaxed coma. Realized current state of mild depression had advanced to moderately serious status in one fell swoop due to this slight, yet particularly abhorrent observation. Seriously considered returning to bed and calling it a day not only because of aforementioned facial deformity, but mostly because I hate my job. Thought about hating my job. Realized that my hatred for my job exceeds even my loathesome disgust for John Edwards, but I love to be able to pay my bills. Cursed Publisher's Clearinghouse for forsaking me in spite of various magazine purchases. Nursed a cup of Folgers and dragged my tired ass and wrinkle to work. Realized that answers to these problems will not be figured out today. Carried on. The End. ~M1L

I just bit my lip 'til it bled.

Spent the last several hours in the hospital again. I now have two grandparents there. My grandma suffered a stroke two weeks ago and my grandfather had chest pains this afternoon. This whole aging thing is for the birds. I don't have much else to say about it right now. I think everybody fully understands just how much these kinds of things suck out loud without further comment.

I'm going to try semi-anonymous cathartic writing for awhile and see if it helps. My concentration apparently decided to take an extended vacation to Prague, or somewhere equally as intriguing, I'm sure, and forgot to let me know she would be exiting the premises indefinitely. I miss her desperately, and I wish she would return to the nest, but my letters and pleas have, as of yet, gone unanswered. Has anyone else dealt with this kind of inconsideration from a major brain function? If so, how did you deal? I will pretty much try anything at this point unless it involves doing something painful, gross, or inconvenient, in which case, forget it.

Someone just explained the concept of "scat" to me yesterday and I am still very upset about it. I think everyone else should be, too.

I'm going to go make myself a cup of Folgers with a ton of sugar and fat-free vanilla creamer and see if I feel better. Then I will attempt to do the work I had planned to do and am currently avoiding. Thanks for caring enough to read my crap. ~M1L