It's gone so fast...from this:
To this:
"When I look at this world, I think about you...eight years old, big blue eyes and a heart of gold"... - Collin Raye.
Happy Birthday, my adult. Sigh.
Friday, February 5, 2010
I Think About You
To this:
"When I look at this world, I think about you...eight years old, big blue eyes and a heart of gold"... - Collin Raye.
Happy Birthday, my adult. Sigh.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
On A Lighter Note
Okay, there has been way too much doom, gloom and introspection on this particular part of teh interwebs lately.
Today, because I'm sure I'm not moving, and I think I'll have a job for at least three more years because that's when the lease on our office space runs out (I'm not kidding, that's my cynical self talking but it's usually not far wrong), I sprung for a toy for myself.
"Sprung" is an operative word, mind, because I got it for $9.99. But, my Crackberry habit is re-established as of Friday. World beware.
The last time I had one of these addictive toys, my job paid for it. I wanted one, and my job required it, but I had no idea how fast I would become a fan of this small device. TH and The Bits were not such big fans, particularly the time I had a "screaming" argument via e-mail with the Co-CEO of the LLC we worked for in Utah. Because, you see, I was standing in line at Disneyland. That's when they decided I'd had enough. Everytime I picked it up when off work from then on, I had one to three sets of eyes looking darkly in my direction.
When I got the job in Idaho, I thought I would get a Palm as part of my new job, everyone at my level or above has one. However, my boss, in a misguided bout of either economy or enforcing work/life balance, said "Oh, you don't need one". I underwent at least three months of serious withdrawal. I had to pay attention even in boring meetings. I couldn't keep abreast of Jazz scores at my convenience (I fondly remember tracking the playoffs in Singapore and updating my co-workers on how it was going - we were all avid fans). I couldn't have someone call me to get me out of a boring meeting. I couldn't make scathing comments about someone right in front of them (yes, sad to say, I did that sometimes in Utah. But Sybil deserved it).
We have had some need over the last several months at times for at least a web connection. We got TH a data package, but he has an old RAZR and it is pretty sub par at best. So, today I orderded my new baby:
Today, because I'm sure I'm not moving, and I think I'll have a job for at least three more years because that's when the lease on our office space runs out (I'm not kidding, that's my cynical self talking but it's usually not far wrong), I sprung for a toy for myself.
"Sprung" is an operative word, mind, because I got it for $9.99. But, my Crackberry habit is re-established as of Friday. World beware.
The last time I had one of these addictive toys, my job paid for it. I wanted one, and my job required it, but I had no idea how fast I would become a fan of this small device. TH and The Bits were not such big fans, particularly the time I had a "screaming" argument via e-mail with the Co-CEO of the LLC we worked for in Utah. Because, you see, I was standing in line at Disneyland. That's when they decided I'd had enough. Everytime I picked it up when off work from then on, I had one to three sets of eyes looking darkly in my direction.
When I got the job in Idaho, I thought I would get a Palm as part of my new job, everyone at my level or above has one. However, my boss, in a misguided bout of either economy or enforcing work/life balance, said "Oh, you don't need one". I underwent at least three months of serious withdrawal. I had to pay attention even in boring meetings. I couldn't keep abreast of Jazz scores at my convenience (I fondly remember tracking the playoffs in Singapore and updating my co-workers on how it was going - we were all avid fans). I couldn't have someone call me to get me out of a boring meeting. I couldn't make scathing comments about someone right in front of them (yes, sad to say, I did that sometimes in Utah. But Sybil deserved it).
We have had some need over the last several months at times for at least a web connection. We got TH a data package, but he has an old RAZR and it is pretty sub par at best. So, today I orderded my new baby:
I know, it's shallow to get pleasure out of material things. But a lot of my work clothes are from Fred Meyer and until lately I got my hair cut at SuperCuts. So it's not like I'm throwing money down the sink all the time.
And, TH wanted me to get it. Oh, ye of short-term memory loss.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Talk Thursday - Long Time Gone
"You're a long time gone...keepin' your secrets for too long. Baby, you ain't half of what you used to be....in this dim October sky, I've got no tears left to cry...And I'm finally learning you can't be too strong....I'm a long time gone" - Gin Blossoms, Long Time Gone.
Well, since it's my topic...I'd better write on it.
I went to church Sunday, as I do most Sundays (not all, sadly, in the winter I am a sloth who has trouble rising before 9 when the sun comes up unless it involves going somewhere warm or getting paid to show up to work). As one of the ladies I work with says, I don't go to church so much because I think I have to in order to keep my faith, but I'd hate to see what kind of person I'd be if I didn't go. She said that about her, not me. I think.
I had already sent out the topic, and had some idea of what I would write about. But then it was the Women's service at the church as happens once a year. Yeah, you'd think I'd know that. But I'm not terribly involved other than showing up, worshiping and giving money. Lutherans aren't the most friendly bunch in the world, and while I really like our Pastor, who's in his early 30s and, for a Pastor, fairly liberal in his ideas, I don't fit in with his "group" who are about his age, and I don't fit in with the older people, (i.e. anyone 10 years older than me) because they just seem very comfortable with each other, and despite the fact they've seen my mug on and off for 15 years, they don't seem to interested in pursuing a conversation, and as I've mentioned before I'm shy. (note to Kristi - when Shane has a church, make darned sure you go talk to that nice lady in her early 40's who's standing off to the side and isn't quite sure how to proceed. She'll love you for it).
So, anyhoo, there I am in church, led by the ladies, and very nicely, too. Then the woman who was doing the sermon got up. And, kids, she rocked my world. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I thought I knew at first, but now I'm not sure how to pull it off.
What I've taken from my experiences a "Long Time Gone" is that you can do something with the best of intentions and be brutally, totally, and completely punished for it. Due to my not being the primary custodial parent the majority of the time since Big Bit started school, I've had everything from people who broke off conversations upon finding out my situation to "family" members saying (though not to my face, of course) that I was probably unfit or at the very least an extremely poor mother for not being in the same town as my child. (Please note, one of these family member should be investigated by Child Protective Services, and I'm not the only person who thinks that. So I thought she had a lot of nerve. No, she doesn't read this, so it's not any of you). I had someone tell me when I announced I was pregnant "Oh (bleep)". I took this as an assumption that I would not be able to keep custody or raise a second child effectively.
In fact, I will note for the historical record, there has never been any allegation I'm unfit. I just had the cojones to stand up for myself, and to some guys, that is enough of a crime.
I knew my truth, why I did make certain decisions and not others. Certain decisions were made by "independent" third parties who at the end of the day didn't seem independent at all. I've made my peace with that part of it, as it were. I don't claim to be without blame. I have plenty and I take responsibility. But I can't stand to even hear EHFH's voice anymore.
The woman, who had also been through a bad divorce, though one with different parameters than mine, said that you have to forgive. Not for the other person, but for yourself. I've heard this before, in other times and places, but this time it really hit me. Whether you believe in Christianity or you think it's bunk, this is a precept that does make a lot of sense.
You see, Friday is Big Bit's 18th birthday. I've been going through this crap for SIXTEEN YEARS. Let me repeat: SIXTEEN years. And while when I got divorced I had no hard feelings as such towards EHFH, he has made it his mission over the last SIXTEEN years to make my life a living hell whenever possible. His actions have pretty much made what affection remained morph into something pretty close to hatred. And while he hasn't always succeeded in his quest, he's succeeded enough to make me more than regret giving him that power. If you add in our married and divorced time, it's coming up on 25 years. That's a lifetime.
So I resolve to forgive on Sunday night. And I'm feeling very "Christlike in my love and forgiveness" to paraphrase the Church (not my Church but "the one true Church"). Then Big Bit calls me last night to talk to me about his FAFSA that has to be filed so he can get qualified for his scholarships, private grants, etc. He and his father are yelling at each other. Not screaming, but yelling pretty loud. I flashback to being afraid, with a two year old in a diaper in my arms, backing up towards a refrigerator, with a very enraged man in my face. I tell Big Bit that I have to get off the phone.
"Call me when you're done". I know it's not serious, honestly. I know they're just both mad, not violent in any way. Big Bit is 6 foot tall and at least 185 lbs. But it gives me the heebie jeebies.
Then, when Big Bit calls back, and I explain that I couldn't stay on the phone because it was creeping me out, he has the raw nerve to say "You aren't good with confrontation".
Oh, I'm good with confrontation, son. I held you in my arms ready to defend you to the end with your dad screaming in our faces. I'm glad you don't remember. I confronted 12 hours of labor only to go through major surgery to have you. And I'm glad I did. I bought my lawyer a freakin' Corvette to try and keep you with me. I'm just not good with screaming.
It's obviously hard to forgive. But it's a long time gone, and I'm tired of secrets. And yelling. It is time to forgive. Wish me good luck, I'm going to need it.
Other than posting pics of Big Bit's graduation which may include pictures of him, this is the last time I will mention that man, forgiveness or no. It's time for that as well.
Well, since it's my topic...I'd better write on it.
I went to church Sunday, as I do most Sundays (not all, sadly, in the winter I am a sloth who has trouble rising before 9 when the sun comes up unless it involves going somewhere warm or getting paid to show up to work). As one of the ladies I work with says, I don't go to church so much because I think I have to in order to keep my faith, but I'd hate to see what kind of person I'd be if I didn't go. She said that about her, not me. I think.
I had already sent out the topic, and had some idea of what I would write about. But then it was the Women's service at the church as happens once a year. Yeah, you'd think I'd know that. But I'm not terribly involved other than showing up, worshiping and giving money. Lutherans aren't the most friendly bunch in the world, and while I really like our Pastor, who's in his early 30s and, for a Pastor, fairly liberal in his ideas, I don't fit in with his "group" who are about his age, and I don't fit in with the older people, (i.e. anyone 10 years older than me) because they just seem very comfortable with each other, and despite the fact they've seen my mug on and off for 15 years, they don't seem to interested in pursuing a conversation, and as I've mentioned before I'm shy. (note to Kristi - when Shane has a church, make darned sure you go talk to that nice lady in her early 40's who's standing off to the side and isn't quite sure how to proceed. She'll love you for it).
So, anyhoo, there I am in church, led by the ladies, and very nicely, too. Then the woman who was doing the sermon got up. And, kids, she rocked my world. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I thought I knew at first, but now I'm not sure how to pull it off.
What I've taken from my experiences a "Long Time Gone" is that you can do something with the best of intentions and be brutally, totally, and completely punished for it. Due to my not being the primary custodial parent the majority of the time since Big Bit started school, I've had everything from people who broke off conversations upon finding out my situation to "family" members saying (though not to my face, of course) that I was probably unfit or at the very least an extremely poor mother for not being in the same town as my child. (Please note, one of these family member should be investigated by Child Protective Services, and I'm not the only person who thinks that. So I thought she had a lot of nerve. No, she doesn't read this, so it's not any of you). I had someone tell me when I announced I was pregnant "Oh (bleep)". I took this as an assumption that I would not be able to keep custody or raise a second child effectively.
In fact, I will note for the historical record, there has never been any allegation I'm unfit. I just had the cojones to stand up for myself, and to some guys, that is enough of a crime.
I knew my truth, why I did make certain decisions and not others. Certain decisions were made by "independent" third parties who at the end of the day didn't seem independent at all. I've made my peace with that part of it, as it were. I don't claim to be without blame. I have plenty and I take responsibility. But I can't stand to even hear EHFH's voice anymore.
The woman, who had also been through a bad divorce, though one with different parameters than mine, said that you have to forgive. Not for the other person, but for yourself. I've heard this before, in other times and places, but this time it really hit me. Whether you believe in Christianity or you think it's bunk, this is a precept that does make a lot of sense.
You see, Friday is Big Bit's 18th birthday. I've been going through this crap for SIXTEEN YEARS. Let me repeat: SIXTEEN years. And while when I got divorced I had no hard feelings as such towards EHFH, he has made it his mission over the last SIXTEEN years to make my life a living hell whenever possible. His actions have pretty much made what affection remained morph into something pretty close to hatred. And while he hasn't always succeeded in his quest, he's succeeded enough to make me more than regret giving him that power. If you add in our married and divorced time, it's coming up on 25 years. That's a lifetime.
So I resolve to forgive on Sunday night. And I'm feeling very "Christlike in my love and forgiveness" to paraphrase the Church (not my Church but "the one true Church"). Then Big Bit calls me last night to talk to me about his FAFSA that has to be filed so he can get qualified for his scholarships, private grants, etc. He and his father are yelling at each other. Not screaming, but yelling pretty loud. I flashback to being afraid, with a two year old in a diaper in my arms, backing up towards a refrigerator, with a very enraged man in my face. I tell Big Bit that I have to get off the phone.
"Call me when you're done". I know it's not serious, honestly. I know they're just both mad, not violent in any way. Big Bit is 6 foot tall and at least 185 lbs. But it gives me the heebie jeebies.
Then, when Big Bit calls back, and I explain that I couldn't stay on the phone because it was creeping me out, he has the raw nerve to say "You aren't good with confrontation".
Oh, I'm good with confrontation, son. I held you in my arms ready to defend you to the end with your dad screaming in our faces. I'm glad you don't remember. I confronted 12 hours of labor only to go through major surgery to have you. And I'm glad I did. I bought my lawyer a freakin' Corvette to try and keep you with me. I'm just not good with screaming.
It's obviously hard to forgive. But it's a long time gone, and I'm tired of secrets. And yelling. It is time to forgive. Wish me good luck, I'm going to need it.
Other than posting pics of Big Bit's graduation which may include pictures of him, this is the last time I will mention that man, forgiveness or no. It's time for that as well.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Be Careful What You Wish For
Well, the good news is I probably won't be asked to move. That makes me very happy.
The bad news? We got the news that certain programs I am associated with are going out to bid. Without really any forewarning or consulting with any of us. The person who should have called to discuss this didn't- who is a much higher authority than any I work with, in Boise period - had their consultant do that. I will not say what I would like to call these people but it isn't pleasant.
The meaning of all this? Well, let's just say ultimately I'm not thinking it's job security for me and those I work with. In the short-term I think things are fine. Not sure long-term and I like to have people treat me and mine with the respect all humans deserve. Even Brett Favre.
I'm not sorry we left Utah. I'm really not. And while it's been a hard adjustment work-wise, I am starting to appreciate the people I work with for what they bring to the table. I just would like to have a job - even a "job" that would have your ordinary amount of politics, stress and heartache instead of doubt, fear and some loathing. I used to have it, so I know it's possible.
Sigh. Guess it's back to the salt mines.
And I have to come up with a Talk Thursday topic. I warn you, it may be a depressing one.
The bad news? We got the news that certain programs I am associated with are going out to bid. Without really any forewarning or consulting with any of us. The person who should have called to discuss this didn't- who is a much higher authority than any I work with, in Boise period - had their consultant do that. I will not say what I would like to call these people but it isn't pleasant.
The meaning of all this? Well, let's just say ultimately I'm not thinking it's job security for me and those I work with. In the short-term I think things are fine. Not sure long-term and I like to have people treat me and mine with the respect all humans deserve. Even Brett Favre.
I'm not sorry we left Utah. I'm really not. And while it's been a hard adjustment work-wise, I am starting to appreciate the people I work with for what they bring to the table. I just would like to have a job - even a "job" that would have your ordinary amount of politics, stress and heartache instead of doubt, fear and some loathing. I used to have it, so I know it's possible.
Sigh. Guess it's back to the salt mines.
And I have to come up with a Talk Thursday topic. I warn you, it may be a depressing one.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
You Get What You Get
It's a song we've been playing on Rock Band. But it resonates very much tonight.
Hey, James (and the rest of the Viking fans) - how does it feel? Sucky, doesn't it?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Kicks
It's been a long couple of weeks, dear readers. TH is doing well with his face, he can smile and everything, but his "job" has proven to be somewhat rocky (not in the sense of having one, but in the clarity of what having one means) as has mine. Anyone who lives in the greater Boise area may have heard my illustrious employer is moving their divisional headquarters (um, where I work) to Denver.
No, I'm not moving to Denver. I like Denver, lots, but I came home to be home. No, I don't know that this means I have to move to Denver. Or would need to in order to keep my job.
But, I will say, any stupid guy from Australia who happens to be a CEO with a location in Boise who doesn't LIKE Boise, thus feeling the need to change things doesn't have his head on straight.
That's all I'm saying, other than I really don't think things are as drastic as the local media painted them and I knew coming in that the worst could happen, but I wanted to come home. I do not want to be Dooced. So if you want to ask where I work, ask via e-mail.
So, because I needed some stability today, I found this video. Paul Revere and the Raiders have been an essential part of my life. My parents went to see them at the Armory in Twin Falls when they were dating. I was lucky enough to dance at Mr. Revere's club he had in Reno when EHFH and I were married and see him play, but got to meet him later when he played in the casino town in which my Mother was the Postmaster.
I relate the following simply because I'm sure he wanted to kill me. I paraphrase, but only a little.
Paul Revere (PR): Hey, how are you?
Me: Fine, it's very nice to meet you.
PR: Are you from around here? (or it may have been, how does a whippersnapper like you know who I am?)
Me: Yes. I grew up in Twin Falls. My parents used to go dance to your music when they were dating!
PR: Wow. Thanks.
(Me: Didn't get I just made him feel 100 years old. I got it later, um a few hours later, and I wanted to kick myself, because he really is a nice guy).
I now present to you two of the hottest guys who made it out of the state of Idaho - Mark Lindsay and Paul Revere. And these other guys that I think are from Idaho but I can't be firmly sure on that.
And yes, this all reminds me of "That Thing You Do". I think Mark is the guy who they say "sorry girls, he's engaged!" He just has that look about him, doesn't he?
No, I'm not moving to Denver. I like Denver, lots, but I came home to be home. No, I don't know that this means I have to move to Denver. Or would need to in order to keep my job.
But, I will say, any stupid guy from Australia who happens to be a CEO with a location in Boise who doesn't LIKE Boise, thus feeling the need to change things doesn't have his head on straight.
That's all I'm saying, other than I really don't think things are as drastic as the local media painted them and I knew coming in that the worst could happen, but I wanted to come home. I do not want to be Dooced. So if you want to ask where I work, ask via e-mail.
So, because I needed some stability today, I found this video. Paul Revere and the Raiders have been an essential part of my life. My parents went to see them at the Armory in Twin Falls when they were dating. I was lucky enough to dance at Mr. Revere's club he had in Reno when EHFH and I were married and see him play, but got to meet him later when he played in the casino town in which my Mother was the Postmaster.
I relate the following simply because I'm sure he wanted to kill me. I paraphrase, but only a little.
Paul Revere (PR): Hey, how are you?
Me: Fine, it's very nice to meet you.
PR: Are you from around here? (or it may have been, how does a whippersnapper like you know who I am?)
Me: Yes. I grew up in Twin Falls. My parents used to go dance to your music when they were dating!
PR: Wow. Thanks.
(Me: Didn't get I just made him feel 100 years old. I got it later, um a few hours later, and I wanted to kick myself, because he really is a nice guy).
I now present to you two of the hottest guys who made it out of the state of Idaho - Mark Lindsay and Paul Revere. And these other guys that I think are from Idaho but I can't be firmly sure on that.
And yes, this all reminds me of "That Thing You Do". I think Mark is the guy who they say "sorry girls, he's engaged!" He just has that look about him, doesn't he?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Talk Thursday - My My Time Flies
I have been a horrible Talk Thursday participant - sorry Cele! But I will try to be better.
I haven't posted - after the documented upheaval I really just decompressed. New Year's Eve we were supposed to go to either friend Dana's or friend Rhonda's, but it started to snow around 5 p.m. and mix in slick roads, the intent to have a few drinks and the fact that it's "amateur night" so I really hate to go out in crowds anymore...we stayed home.
It was our 15th wedding anniversary...time does fly. I don't know why this one hit home more to me than number 14...but it really did. I've spent 1/3 of my life married to TH, far more than I was with EHFH. And, I still like him. (Yes, there are days but that's how it works).
It seems yesterday I was a somewhat wounded 27 year old, pretty sure that marriage wasn't for me, my son was going to be an only child because his first two years had been the hardest of my life (and I was starting to wonder how anyone's marriage withstood having children, even a planned one as Big Bit was) and my intent from then on was to date different guys, have lots of friends and an active social life and, in short, live a very different life than that I had to that point. The sole exception to this (other than the rest of my family) was Big Bit. He I really had committed to for life and that wasn't going anywhere, not that I wanted it to.
So, there I was, 1994, first week in Boise, had a boyfriend I was dating prior to moving (no, I didn't move here for him, which could be a book in itself) and through him a roommate who turned out to be complicated but for the time being was a lot of fun to hang out with, made the lots of friends. On this night I was on the town with my cousin, and who did I meet but...yep. TH.
I had been divorced, I think, a little over a month. Yeah, I know. I really do know and I know what I would have said to someone who was in the same situation. "You idiot!"
It didn't start off like that. I didn't hear from him for well over a week and a half. And in fact when he called I didn't know who he was. *Cough* No, it's not that bad but I have a short memory.
Suffice it to say six months, a whole lotta drama later, more than one meeting with Big Bit and lots of discussion and soul searching on both our parts, we got married. 12/31/94. And I will never, never be sorry we did. Not only do I still love him, but I have my second Bit. And I treasure him beyond measure, as I do with the first.
And while I do have friends and something of a social life, it's not anything like I envisioned when I moved to Boise. And that is just fine with me.
I love you TH. Time does fly.
I haven't posted - after the documented upheaval I really just decompressed. New Year's Eve we were supposed to go to either friend Dana's or friend Rhonda's, but it started to snow around 5 p.m. and mix in slick roads, the intent to have a few drinks and the fact that it's "amateur night" so I really hate to go out in crowds anymore...we stayed home.
It was our 15th wedding anniversary...time does fly. I don't know why this one hit home more to me than number 14...but it really did. I've spent 1/3 of my life married to TH, far more than I was with EHFH. And, I still like him. (Yes, there are days but that's how it works).
It seems yesterday I was a somewhat wounded 27 year old, pretty sure that marriage wasn't for me, my son was going to be an only child because his first two years had been the hardest of my life (and I was starting to wonder how anyone's marriage withstood having children, even a planned one as Big Bit was) and my intent from then on was to date different guys, have lots of friends and an active social life and, in short, live a very different life than that I had to that point. The sole exception to this (other than the rest of my family) was Big Bit. He I really had committed to for life and that wasn't going anywhere, not that I wanted it to.
So, there I was, 1994, first week in Boise, had a boyfriend I was dating prior to moving (no, I didn't move here for him, which could be a book in itself) and through him a roommate who turned out to be complicated but for the time being was a lot of fun to hang out with, made the lots of friends. On this night I was on the town with my cousin, and who did I meet but...yep. TH.
I had been divorced, I think, a little over a month. Yeah, I know. I really do know and I know what I would have said to someone who was in the same situation. "You idiot!"
It didn't start off like that. I didn't hear from him for well over a week and a half. And in fact when he called I didn't know who he was. *Cough* No, it's not that bad but I have a short memory.
Suffice it to say six months, a whole lotta drama later, more than one meeting with Big Bit and lots of discussion and soul searching on both our parts, we got married. 12/31/94. And I will never, never be sorry we did. Not only do I still love him, but I have my second Bit. And I treasure him beyond measure, as I do with the first.
And while I do have friends and something of a social life, it's not anything like I envisioned when I moved to Boise. And that is just fine with me.
I love you TH. Time does fly.
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