Hun and I returned on Saturday from a week-long respite in the Mile High City. It was loverly. We got to visit with friends and family, enjoy a couple of hikes, and received broad hints about how to build a fun-filled and fiscally secure future together from the afore-mentioned friends and fam. (Say that meandering sentence five times fast.) We also were force fed homemade ice cream. (The flavors were maraschino cherries with pecans, and Bing cherries with dark chocolate chunks--yum.)
Ten added pounds around the waistline later, I returned to work yesterday to discover I have now a caseload of one. (Hopefully my caseload will turn to two or--gasp--three bouncing teenage boys!!) Let the adolescent ennui begin.
All kidding aside, teenagers can be quite fun. I really like teens--they just don't seem to like me much because (1) I'm not hip, cool, or withit AT ALL, (2) I often get stuck telling them things they don't want to hear, such as "No, you aren't going home yet because the judge is being an asshole." and (3) I ask them to stop acting like teens and start acting like mini-adults because the county will kick their tuckus out of the system without a dime if they impulsively (imagine that for a teen) decide to sign themselves out of care because they aren't allowed to visit their boyfriend who is stationed in Bumfuck or the county declined to buy them an XBox 360 for their 18th birthday. I usually get a James Dean pout or Billy Idol sneer in response, attempt to encourage them to strive for bigger and better things, and shoo myself out the door before being conned out of more McDonald's outing.
I also dusted off a Pilate's DVD I got on hot-bargain special from Border's and completed a couple of workouts. Meanwhile, Hun has been playing Bioshock on his new XBox 360, and hasn't let me take a turn even once. (Insert Cyndi Lauper sneer or Paris Hilton pout here.)
I think I've been a very good girl this year. I only received one speeding ticket this year, and I have paid it off. (Not only that, but I was FRAMED, I tell ya!) I have made lots of apple crisp this year and bought countless of McDonald's Happy Meals to help increase cholesterol levels for displaced foster children in the Hudson Valley. I have a few things to ask for this year, Santa. The list is as follows:
(1) World Peace. This is always a good way to start off a Christmas list. It helps the list maker not appear as selfish as she really is. I also am quite fond of the idea of all the children of the world receiving proper nutrition and clean drinking water. That goes without saying.
(2) Jack Bauer's Fists of Determination. With a menacing glare and a raise of the pinkie finger, the world would bend to my will. This would decidedly help with my XMas wish #1, although 24's Jack Bauer is decidedly not a very peaceful person. This would also help me brave any bureaucratic red tape at work, as well as managing New York driving in general.
(3) A new car. I would dearly love a new car. However, I would not dearly love a new payment. Hence, I will need to have one of my loving friends or rich strangers to give one to me. An Audi TT would work nicely for transporting toddlers back and forth to medical appointments and I am certain the gas mileage is wonderful . . .
(4) The sour chocolate milk smell emanating from my backseat in my current car to disappear. If I have not been good enough this year to deserve an Audi TT, a super-heavy bottle of ultra Fabreeze will do. I suppose I will make do with my 10-year-old Saturn with crapped-out shocks if I need to . . . but I would be disappointed.
(5) My pirated video system to actually work. Although I can import media, such as music and pictures onto my non-linear editing system, I have issues capturing footage onto my system to edit. I tried to upgrade my system with some free downloads. Now the program won't even open up, saying there is now a systems error. So much for youtubesuperstardom for right now.
(6) A cease and desist order for "wintry mix" weather in Upstate New York. I friggin' hate the icy shit that falls from the sky. Upstaters are in some serious denial that "wintry mix" constitutes a "Winter Wonderland". There is nothing wonderful about it. It does prove, however, that Hell--indeed--does freeze over.
(7) Time with friends and family. I am very excited about heading back to Colorado for Christmas and seeing my friends and family. I really miss them. My coworkers are good company--they don't compare to my dear friends back in Colorado. As Dorthy said (or was it Nietze?), "There's no place like home."
(8) An indoor swimming pool. Although, I think our landlord might be upset. (Dog would be in snake heaven.) I guess I need to settle for finding an indoor swimming pool after Christmas. (See future blog entry regarding a list of New Year's resolutions.)
(9) Sunlight. We don't get much sunlight here. It is mostly gray and threatening icy shit. It usually--like typical New Yorkers--doesn't carry out the promise. It does cast an atmosphere of gloom and general malaise. I used to look forward to cloudy days in Colorado because it meant a change in weather, and some much-needed moisture. Here, the cloudy weather just sucks one's soul dry. No wonder Upstaters are cranky. At least NYC has Times Square.
(10) The perfect job. I would like a job closer to where I live, so I don't have to commute over two hours a day. I would also like a balance of using my brains to solve problems, some multi-tasking so I don't get bored, and nice people who don't yell at me about things I cannot control. Any ideas are greatly appreciated. (Again, see future New Year's resolutions blog.)
This is all I ask for Santa. It's not too much. Give me a Holla when you roll down our chimney!
. . . I forgot everyone's birthday this year. I royally suck as a friend and as a daughter. (Yes, this is true, I forgot the birthdays of BOTH MY PARENTS.) I also forgot my best friend's birthday on December 4. I have been remiss in keeping my phone charged as well.
I am such an asshole.
I wish I could even make an excuse that work has been crazy. But it always is crazy. There's no difference between past an present. Between crazy foster parents, crazy bio parents, crazy coworkers, it's all a big blob.
I suppose I can blame seasonal effective disorder--isn't that the one when you get more out of it when you are exposed to less light in the winter? We have very little light when it is technically considered "daytime", much less the stark blackness they call night in Upstate New York.
To any good friends and family out there, I've been trying to call--and bordering on stalking behavior--because I realize I've been a bit insensitive lately. Blame the bland uhgness that is my life.
I am really interested in how the kitchen is being remodeled, any baby firsts that I am missing, as well as buns currently in the oven . . . much more so than the problems Upstaters have no compunction but to unload on anyone in hopes of gaining some free ride or another . . . I have become more local, and I haven't realized it.
Someone shoot me now. But please call back so I know we are on speaking terms . . .
How can someone, who's idea of a good evening is drinking a good glass of Kentucky bourbon and watching bad horror and sci-fi flicks and blogging to all five readers, consider herself an introvert?
My mother definitely didn't raise me that way. My mother can connect with people as easily as breathing. All she has to do is sit on a park bench and random strangers sit next to her and sing their lives to her.
My folks visited me and Hun last week and New Yorkers fell in love with my mother. At the end of a dinner in an Italian restaurant in Albany, she made bosom friends with the waiter and finding out all the best eateries in The City. All she has to do is ask the score of the Rockies game. (My father giggled and pointed with me when we were abandoned at our table by my mother to find out the score. Hun joined her later, and bent the ear of the waiter as well.)
It was practically a repeat performance the following evening at Avenue A with neighboring diners looking over our dishes and vice-versa. My mother's attitude: it doesn't hurt to ask or comment, and you get to hear really interesting things that you wouldn't have heard about before.
The City couldn't be more friendly in the Fall. Two women approached us unsolicited about the hidden beauties of Brooklyn as we exited the subway station. They told us the local history. How a neighbor painted signs directing visitors to the footpath to the Brooklyn Bridge before The City replaced them out of embarrassment. How a couple of blocks down was a breathtaking view of Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty (we checked it out--it was). How Prizzi's Honor was shot in the neighborhood and we could see the house if we walked a little farther down the promenade, and a couple of great places to eat besides . . .
Our waitress at breakfast discussed the best in the City was the Polish section of town, where people were friendly and all the Polish immigrants lived. She practically hugged Hun (who's half Polish) and my mother on the way out the door.
Is it the Fall, or is it my mother? My money is on the latter. The woman is charming, she can tickle a conversation out of almost anyone. People trust her and tell her secrets, seek solace, and share jokes.
My dad comments on my mom's charisma, but Hun follows every word my father says and they talk heatedly about physics and research projects. My dad watches people and shares his observations: foreign tourist's awe at seeing The City and compares it to their trip to Europe, a grandmother teaching her granddaughter to rollerblade. He is more quiet, but just as much of the party as my boisterous mother.
When growing up, my friends seemed to gravitate to my mother and father as second parents, a home away from home. They felt safe and assured. Sometimes I got jealous I wasn't the main reason why my friends spent sleepovers at my house. I didn't have cool video games or toys--all I had to entice them over was the warmth of my parents. Now I realize--especially with my job--how blessed I was.
I know this post sounds a bit glurgey, but I can't help it. My parents were awesome--they still are.
Hey, y'all, and Happy St. Patty's Day!! This year, the state of New York is celebrating the Green Season with lots of white. Yup, you guessed it, a Nor'easter blew (pun intended) into town last night. It took me three hours to drive home, thus validating my fortitude in finding another job located in the Capital Region to decrease my commute and mileage on my car, Norma Jean.
Norma has seen better days. Currently she is parked on the street, buried in about two feet of "wintry mix" (we all know what that means), littered inside with McD bags, kid dirt, and UFOs (Unidentified Floor Objects). I put at least 100 miles per day on her, not including kid transports, etc.
A clarification on the previous post. Hun mentioned to me I made him look like a buffoon on my story about the raiding of the kitchen. I didn't want him to be perceived as a clodding doof, uncaring about my kitchen accoutrement. I wanted to demonstrate, through the subtle use of voice, that I was the clodding buffoon who was overly protective and controlling of her kitchen domain and Hun was a sensitive guy trying to lighten my load a bit and give me some evening R&R time. Hun is a sooper swell fella. He has been great lately, considering I've been trying to be less behind on work. 'Nuff said?
I'm excited about the Parental Units coming down in a few days. We will be spending a few days hanging in Albany and scooting out to the City on Saturday. More than anything, it will be great to see my folks.
Anything new to report? Not really. Like I said, I've been working a lot, not much of a life. Hun has been swell, although I have been going a bit batty with working about 60 hours a week, juggling crises and keeping cases on course.
I am missing the mountains and people who can drive in the snow. Adiose, amigos. Until next time . . .
I found my tru luv when I turned 30 and he dragged me to Albany--then Washington DC. While Hun is hard at work, I am hardly working. I used to be a social worker, and am now spending time with my new Calf.
When I'm not being peed on, I search through thrift stores, cook Mexican food, watch lotsa bad TV on DVD, explore my new environs,and eat--a lot. I spend the best time with Hun, my husband. and The Calf, by infant son. Cheesy but true.
Hun and I returned on Saturday from a week-long respite in the Mile High City. It was loverly. We got to visit with friends and family, enjoy a couple of hikes, and received broad hints about how to build a fun-filled and fiscally secure future together from the afore-mentioned friends and fam. (Say that meandering sentence five times fast.) We also were force fed homemade ice cream. (The flavors were maraschino cherries with pecans, and Bing cherries with dark chocolate chunks--yum.)
