I've moved
And I'm not saying where to
But you could probably find me
If that's what you wanted to do.
I ran out of room
Poured my heart in a box
Had to pick up my broom
And start a new blog.
This is my last post at this blog. It's gotten too personal to be able to share it with family and friends. My new blog is out there in the ether, gathering the eyes of strangers who can't be cut by my words, my feelings, my being. I hope you all understand.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Ireland
I had an incredible conversation with an Irishman the other day about Ireland, County Cork where my family would have been from, the Cliffs of Moher and the different dialects of Irish Celtic. It was one of those moments in life where you know you're hearing something special from someone who cares deeply about something from the past that not a lot of young people "get" anymore. I wish I could have recorded it somehow, but I went home later and bookmarked some Wikipedias that had some good information consistent with what I was told.
I need to go back there. That is all.
I need to go back there. That is all.
Monday, April 15, 2013
Boston Marathon
I've held the tears back until now, my work over and a little time to myself. I carried it through lunch with family, a long ride home after a weekend vacation and a shift at my job, but it's coming now. It's so strange how we go about our insignificant lives in the face of such tragedies.
I first heard about the explosions on twitter around 12:15 here on the West Coast. No amount of Googling could give me answers, but it was soon clear that this wasn't an accident. The news reports started coming in and reporters were saying that had the explosions been an hour earlier, the toll may have been higher as the rush of experienced runners reached the finish line. A silver lining formed in that fewer people were hurt, but there was something else that hit me like a ton of bricks, close to home.
Many of the runners hit or injured were likely to be first time Boston Marathon runners or novices still working on their speed and endurance. It may have been someone's first time completing the race and some may never run another. As a novice runner, this hits close to home. I remember that feeling when I finished my first 5k. That feeling stolen from dozens today. I'm angry for them. I've even thought of revenge, even with no suspects and no one claiming credit for the attack.
Some have tried to post online the fact that more people ran to help the victims than committed the crime. Yet there were bombings in many parts of the world today. How are they so sure of their numbers just because we have great first responders here in the US?
People were also blaming others for caring about the Boston attack and not reporting enough about the other attacks today, using one attack to look down on others on moral superiority. Others used the attack to push their own political agendas even though neither suspect nor motive have been made clear. How am I supposed to feel about my fellow man with this kind of static?
I'm thinking of the families, the horrible scenes posted to twitter and Facebook, the rush of misinformation and ignorance after the attacks and I can't seem to stomach it right now. I'm 3000 miles away and have no way to really help. I guess it's that sense of helplessness that's feeding into this almost existential nihilism. I've been here before, though, and it's passed, so maybe it will again. We have to be better to each other than we are dangerous to each other or we wouldn't have survived as a species, right? Right?
Anyway, I think I'll go to bed now because there's literally nothing I can do at this moment but wait for answers. Goodnight, Humans. Please be good to each other.
I first heard about the explosions on twitter around 12:15 here on the West Coast. No amount of Googling could give me answers, but it was soon clear that this wasn't an accident. The news reports started coming in and reporters were saying that had the explosions been an hour earlier, the toll may have been higher as the rush of experienced runners reached the finish line. A silver lining formed in that fewer people were hurt, but there was something else that hit me like a ton of bricks, close to home.
Many of the runners hit or injured were likely to be first time Boston Marathon runners or novices still working on their speed and endurance. It may have been someone's first time completing the race and some may never run another. As a novice runner, this hits close to home. I remember that feeling when I finished my first 5k. That feeling stolen from dozens today. I'm angry for them. I've even thought of revenge, even with no suspects and no one claiming credit for the attack.
Some have tried to post online the fact that more people ran to help the victims than committed the crime. Yet there were bombings in many parts of the world today. How are they so sure of their numbers just because we have great first responders here in the US?
People were also blaming others for caring about the Boston attack and not reporting enough about the other attacks today, using one attack to look down on others on moral superiority. Others used the attack to push their own political agendas even though neither suspect nor motive have been made clear. How am I supposed to feel about my fellow man with this kind of static?
I'm thinking of the families, the horrible scenes posted to twitter and Facebook, the rush of misinformation and ignorance after the attacks and I can't seem to stomach it right now. I'm 3000 miles away and have no way to really help. I guess it's that sense of helplessness that's feeding into this almost existential nihilism. I've been here before, though, and it's passed, so maybe it will again. We have to be better to each other than we are dangerous to each other or we wouldn't have survived as a species, right? Right?
Anyway, I think I'll go to bed now because there's literally nothing I can do at this moment but wait for answers. Goodnight, Humans. Please be good to each other.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
I Can't Do It Anymore
This is me, taking a stand. I am going to be thirty next year. I have absolutely no room in my life for people (family) who treat me like shit no matter how many times I forgive them (or at least act cordial).
My step brother just sent my big sister a text message out of the blue complaining that we (me and my two sisters) didn't acknowledge that he had come to our Gram's funeral last year. Our Gram. Her funeral!
He called us and my husband trash. This man wdnt AWOL from the Navy some years back, stole my dad and step-mom's car and savings and ran away from gambling debts to go hide out with his schizophrenic father in a trailer park in some town called Weaverville, Ca. You know what he's done since? Gambled more, got injured at work not wearing a hard hat like he was supposed to and found himself a girl named Shelly to take good care of him.
I'd like to compare that to my big sister who, although she doesn't work, is solely responsible for convincing her husband to fight for custody of his kids and then taught the oldest at nine years old to finally be able to read for the first time in his life. She raised my nephew, he'd own son, pretty much on her own.
My other sister graduated from an art college and went on to design characters for a famous online social network game and makes more bank, living in Daly City and working in the most beautiful city in the world, San Feancisco.
My husband is three years into a PhD at UCD. I don't even need to qualify that, because it stands on its own. Amongst his numerous projects and his work toward his dissertation, he's helping mankind unravel the mysteries of language and communication. That's fucking awesome.
I'm not good at tooting my own horn, but I've dedicated my life to helping others. I worked with adults with developmental disabilities for years, teaching them life skills, communication and expression through art. I've put on benefit converts and fundraisers, campaigned, rallied and protested to make the world a little better, and now I'm finally getting around to finishing my formal education.
I'm no longer forgetting and forgiving these people. I'm tired of this cyclical, borderline psychotic attacks from people I'm told I'm just supposed to make up with, just bury the hatchet, just keep the peace. I'm too old. I want to have children in the next few years. I want to become a teacher. I want to run a half-marathon. I don't want this bullshit anymore.
My grandfather (not related to my Gram) passed away this week and my mom texted me to tell me. This was after she told me to break my legs running. You know why she was mad at me? I don't talk to her on Facebook as much as I talk to other people.
She couldn't have had my sister call me. She has no decency whatsoever. Now I'm getting text messages telling me how my step brother is upset he didn't get credit for coming to my Gram's funeral. I don't even remember him being there. I couldn't tell you who was there at all.
I'm not just sweeping this under the rug. I'm not just going to pretend. I'm not going to let them back in. I won't have other family members pressure me to play nice so we can all sit uncomfortably in the same room together and put on a show for the neighbors and friends. I'm tired of it and I'm ending it now. I'm not letting this happen again.
My step brother just sent my big sister a text message out of the blue complaining that we (me and my two sisters) didn't acknowledge that he had come to our Gram's funeral last year. Our Gram. Her funeral!
He called us and my husband trash. This man wdnt AWOL from the Navy some years back, stole my dad and step-mom's car and savings and ran away from gambling debts to go hide out with his schizophrenic father in a trailer park in some town called Weaverville, Ca. You know what he's done since? Gambled more, got injured at work not wearing a hard hat like he was supposed to and found himself a girl named Shelly to take good care of him.
I'd like to compare that to my big sister who, although she doesn't work, is solely responsible for convincing her husband to fight for custody of his kids and then taught the oldest at nine years old to finally be able to read for the first time in his life. She raised my nephew, he'd own son, pretty much on her own.
My other sister graduated from an art college and went on to design characters for a famous online social network game and makes more bank, living in Daly City and working in the most beautiful city in the world, San Feancisco.
My husband is three years into a PhD at UCD. I don't even need to qualify that, because it stands on its own. Amongst his numerous projects and his work toward his dissertation, he's helping mankind unravel the mysteries of language and communication. That's fucking awesome.
I'm not good at tooting my own horn, but I've dedicated my life to helping others. I worked with adults with developmental disabilities for years, teaching them life skills, communication and expression through art. I've put on benefit converts and fundraisers, campaigned, rallied and protested to make the world a little better, and now I'm finally getting around to finishing my formal education.
I'm no longer forgetting and forgiving these people. I'm tired of this cyclical, borderline psychotic attacks from people I'm told I'm just supposed to make up with, just bury the hatchet, just keep the peace. I'm too old. I want to have children in the next few years. I want to become a teacher. I want to run a half-marathon. I don't want this bullshit anymore.
My grandfather (not related to my Gram) passed away this week and my mom texted me to tell me. This was after she told me to break my legs running. You know why she was mad at me? I don't talk to her on Facebook as much as I talk to other people.
She couldn't have had my sister call me. She has no decency whatsoever. Now I'm getting text messages telling me how my step brother is upset he didn't get credit for coming to my Gram's funeral. I don't even remember him being there. I couldn't tell you who was there at all.
I'm not just sweeping this under the rug. I'm not just going to pretend. I'm not going to let them back in. I won't have other family members pressure me to play nice so we can all sit uncomfortably in the same room together and put on a show for the neighbors and friends. I'm tired of it and I'm ending it now. I'm not letting this happen again.
Sunday, March 31, 2013
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Here We Go Again.
EDIT: My mom threatened to kill the plant she was taking care of for me in her yard. No really, that happened. I called her a cunt. I only reserve that word for truly ignorant fucks who purposely try to hurt me or my loved ones. She's a terrible person. Just terrible.
If you've known me awhile, you've seen me go back and forth multiple times with my mom. She has attacked me on facebook a number of times and blown things up into imagined hurts and I think she does it for attention. It happens every few months, so maybe it's a bipolar thing. She was diagnosed bipolar when I was a teenager, but insists she doesn't have it anymore.
Well, we were supposed to go to dinner today so I put off homework and Chris put off working on a presentation so we could get our house cleaned and get ready to go. She texted us at five, the time she was supposed to show up, to tell us she wasn't going to make it and wondering if we could do dinner tomorrow. Nope, I work nights now and this was the last Saturday night I'll have off for at least a month, so we told her tonight or it's not going to happen and pointed out that she was the one that told us Saturday night was good for dinner and then flaked.
She took it as rude that we pointed out her faux pas, so all of a sudden we were horrible, selfish and mean brats. Great. Here we go again. She told us she hadn't started painting a house until 2pm and that she lost track of time. That didn't really make us feel any better about it seeing as how she knew at 2pm she was running late and that we weren't important enough for her to check her watch. Long story short, we're disowned again.
Some background information abut the following screenshot: About a week ago, she had a vague, passive-agressive facebook status up that I thought was related to a text she sent me a few days prior. The gist of the text was that I don't facebook or text her enough. *sigh* It's so fucking draining to be responsible for someone else's happiness. Especially a grown-ass adult who should know better. Anyway, she insisted the facebook status wasn't about me.
My Aunt Cam didn't understand this the last time Mom and I got into it. Cam told me "She's your mother," as if that's some magic phrase that makes me responsible for making her happy by kowtowing to her. I deleted my Aunt Cam on facebook because she refused to stop chiding me online about it and because my aunt has no idea the long history behind my mom freaking out on people for imagined hurts every few months.
So that's the background on the situation, but I'd like to share a little comment my mom made to me online tonight.
As soon as we expressed our irritation with her flaking at the very time she was supposed to show up instead of calling us earlier to let us know she wasn't going to make it, she started bringing up all she's "done for us," including going to Disneyland and buying us a TV. Because apparently, buying people things means they are beholden to your every whim. Being nice to a person isn't done for the sake of being nice in her world, it's so that you'll shut up if she is ever rude to you. Sorry, but in my world, that doesn't give you a free pass to walk all over me. I had one Saturday.
Anyway, I think that second to last sentence should get her a mother of the year award, don't you think? I'm done. I've accepted apology after apology and still, every few months, she gets something up her ass and has to stir shit up. She thought there was a barrier between us due to past freak-outs of hers online. Self-fulfilling prophecy there. I have too much to worry about than to prop up my mother's fucked up, sick world. Who is the parent here? I'm just done.
If you've known me awhile, you've seen me go back and forth multiple times with my mom. She has attacked me on facebook a number of times and blown things up into imagined hurts and I think she does it for attention. It happens every few months, so maybe it's a bipolar thing. She was diagnosed bipolar when I was a teenager, but insists she doesn't have it anymore.
Well, we were supposed to go to dinner today so I put off homework and Chris put off working on a presentation so we could get our house cleaned and get ready to go. She texted us at five, the time she was supposed to show up, to tell us she wasn't going to make it and wondering if we could do dinner tomorrow. Nope, I work nights now and this was the last Saturday night I'll have off for at least a month, so we told her tonight or it's not going to happen and pointed out that she was the one that told us Saturday night was good for dinner and then flaked.
She took it as rude that we pointed out her faux pas, so all of a sudden we were horrible, selfish and mean brats. Great. Here we go again. She told us she hadn't started painting a house until 2pm and that she lost track of time. That didn't really make us feel any better about it seeing as how she knew at 2pm she was running late and that we weren't important enough for her to check her watch. Long story short, we're disowned again.
Some background information abut the following screenshot: About a week ago, she had a vague, passive-agressive facebook status up that I thought was related to a text she sent me a few days prior. The gist of the text was that I don't facebook or text her enough. *sigh* It's so fucking draining to be responsible for someone else's happiness. Especially a grown-ass adult who should know better. Anyway, she insisted the facebook status wasn't about me.
My Aunt Cam didn't understand this the last time Mom and I got into it. Cam told me "She's your mother," as if that's some magic phrase that makes me responsible for making her happy by kowtowing to her. I deleted my Aunt Cam on facebook because she refused to stop chiding me online about it and because my aunt has no idea the long history behind my mom freaking out on people for imagined hurts every few months.
So that's the background on the situation, but I'd like to share a little comment my mom made to me online tonight.
As soon as we expressed our irritation with her flaking at the very time she was supposed to show up instead of calling us earlier to let us know she wasn't going to make it, she started bringing up all she's "done for us," including going to Disneyland and buying us a TV. Because apparently, buying people things means they are beholden to your every whim. Being nice to a person isn't done for the sake of being nice in her world, it's so that you'll shut up if she is ever rude to you. Sorry, but in my world, that doesn't give you a free pass to walk all over me. I had one Saturday.
Anyway, I think that second to last sentence should get her a mother of the year award, don't you think? I'm done. I've accepted apology after apology and still, every few months, she gets something up her ass and has to stir shit up. She thought there was a barrier between us due to past freak-outs of hers online. Self-fulfilling prophecy there. I have too much to worry about than to prop up my mother's fucked up, sick world. Who is the parent here? I'm just done.
Cross training
I went ahead and did twenty minutes today. Legs felt good, so I went over the pedestrian overpass, which I normally do anyway, but thought I would have to avoid after Monday's shin splints. I took it easy going over and I was fine.
I got my Mizuno Inspires in the mail, so I broke those in. They are very nice, just as I expected. After running in those crappy Brooks for six months it was like putting on clouds. What a relief.
Chris and I also biked the arboretum, so I'm getting some cross-training done. I have the Tour de Cure ten-mile ride in May I have to think about. Looks like this spring will be very active for me! I'm looking forward to it.
I got my Mizuno Inspires in the mail, so I broke those in. They are very nice, just as I expected. After running in those crappy Brooks for six months it was like putting on clouds. What a relief.
Chris and I also biked the arboretum, so I'm getting some cross-training done. I have the Tour de Cure ten-mile ride in May I have to think about. Looks like this spring will be very active for me! I'm looking forward to it.
Friday, March 29, 2013
No More Running for Weaklings.
So I'm a little upset. I tried to take the Intermediate Running for Women class after being told explicitly by the Fleet Feet staff that I would have no problem moving to it after taking Beginner in the Fall. I explained to them my break in running between the Stampede and the Biggest Loser run and they said it shouldn't be a problem. I had been running for about two weeks when I started Intermediate on Monday.
Well, they were very wrong. It turns out the class is in the Arboretum, which is very hilly and which had been giving me a little bit of trouble (though not much) on the Bunny Run. This time, the legs didn't loosen up and I had to walk halfway back.
The Beginner class was done entirely on the very flat Greenbelt in North Davis. I was very disappointed to find that the route I've been taking since starting the Beginner class in September in no way prepared me for the Intermediate class. The hills were too much.
Fleet Feet could have done one of two things before I shelled over $109 to them.
1) Design the Beginning class so that it actually pushes a runner and prepares her for the next level, or,
2) Told me the truth about the ability to go from one class to the next.
How about an educated and informed staff?
I've done two 5ks in the last two months, and while I did take time off because of the stress of changing jobs and a MRSA infection, I don't think I'm all that out of shape. The level of intensity of the 10k class was grossly misrepresented to me.
Well, now I'm pissed because even though I got a refund, I would have really liked an apology. Shame on them. They didn't even address my concerns when I told them and asked for the refund. They simply nodded and smiled and handed me my receipt.
I've decided I'll be training on my own, shedding the "interval" system and researching online the best way to increase strength for hills since the Fleet Feet classes did absolutely nothing to make me a better runner. I haven't run since Monday and my shins haven't hurt since Tuesday, so I'm going out today to kick ass and take names. Thanks for nothing, Fleet Feet!
Well, they were very wrong. It turns out the class is in the Arboretum, which is very hilly and which had been giving me a little bit of trouble (though not much) on the Bunny Run. This time, the legs didn't loosen up and I had to walk halfway back.
The Beginner class was done entirely on the very flat Greenbelt in North Davis. I was very disappointed to find that the route I've been taking since starting the Beginner class in September in no way prepared me for the Intermediate class. The hills were too much.
Fleet Feet could have done one of two things before I shelled over $109 to them.
1) Design the Beginning class so that it actually pushes a runner and prepares her for the next level, or,
2) Told me the truth about the ability to go from one class to the next.
How about an educated and informed staff?
I've done two 5ks in the last two months, and while I did take time off because of the stress of changing jobs and a MRSA infection, I don't think I'm all that out of shape. The level of intensity of the 10k class was grossly misrepresented to me.
Well, now I'm pissed because even though I got a refund, I would have really liked an apology. Shame on them. They didn't even address my concerns when I told them and asked for the refund. They simply nodded and smiled and handed me my receipt.
I've decided I'll be training on my own, shedding the "interval" system and researching online the best way to increase strength for hills since the Fleet Feet classes did absolutely nothing to make me a better runner. I haven't run since Monday and my shins haven't hurt since Tuesday, so I'm going out today to kick ass and take names. Thanks for nothing, Fleet Feet!
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Bunny Run and other stuff.
Life is pretty incredible these days. I had a great run this morning in the arboretum with the Davis Fleet Feet. It was their 3rd annual Bunny Run, an untimed walk/run in honor of a girl who lost her fight with Osteosarcoma at just twelve years old. Runners were asked to donate stuffed animals to bring to kids in the hospital during Easter time. It was very heartwarming.
I met up with some of the ladies I had met in the beginning RFW class. I decided to run with them because I hadn't brought my own interval timer as I didn't know if the run would be led or a free-for-all.
We ran the arboretum, which was a beautiful course. It has more hills than I'm used to on the greenbelt, so my shins were real tight at first, but soon loosened up. I don't feel any after-effects so I think I dodged shin splints. It's been almost two years since I had them but I'm still nervous whenever I start feeling anything in the front of my legs.
I went to school to start the second part of the MMLC class only to find out that I'm not required to attend at this point, as long as I keep doing about one module a week. I got a 90% on the first module this week, so I'm set.
I'm considering a half-marathon in Janurary. My friend Ray is interested, too. Even my mom is curious about it, but I think that's partly because she's going to love where it is. It's the Tinkerbell run in Disneyland. It's happening far enough in the future for me to just be completing a half-marathon training class this fall, after this 10k class. Oh, and did I mention it's in Disneyland? Looking forward to it!
2013 is turning out to be much better than 2012. I have more to write about, but for now I'm putting things in a journal. I want my head clear in order to improve my blogging skills. I'll update more again, but I'm going to end it for now. I've had a great day and I'm going to just relax and enjoy the end of it.
I met up with some of the ladies I had met in the beginning RFW class. I decided to run with them because I hadn't brought my own interval timer as I didn't know if the run would be led or a free-for-all.
We ran the arboretum, which was a beautiful course. It has more hills than I'm used to on the greenbelt, so my shins were real tight at first, but soon loosened up. I don't feel any after-effects so I think I dodged shin splints. It's been almost two years since I had them but I'm still nervous whenever I start feeling anything in the front of my legs.
I went to school to start the second part of the MMLC class only to find out that I'm not required to attend at this point, as long as I keep doing about one module a week. I got a 90% on the first module this week, so I'm set.
I'm considering a half-marathon in Janurary. My friend Ray is interested, too. Even my mom is curious about it, but I think that's partly because she's going to love where it is. It's the Tinkerbell run in Disneyland. It's happening far enough in the future for me to just be completing a half-marathon training class this fall, after this 10k class. Oh, and did I mention it's in Disneyland? Looking forward to it!
2013 is turning out to be much better than 2012. I have more to write about, but for now I'm putting things in a journal. I want my head clear in order to improve my blogging skills. I'll update more again, but I'm going to end it for now. I've had a great day and I'm going to just relax and enjoy the end of it.
Friday, March 22, 2013
The Great Rostini Mystery
Abruptly and unexpectedly, our favorite restaurant Rostini closed. There was a note on the door thanking the customers for three wonderful years, but didn't offer an explanation. Some have speculated they may have left over leasing issues as rent is back on the upswing after the Great Recession. Davis Wiki simply states that it closed for "unknowable reasons."
Rostini was often packed and the food was consistently delicious. The prices ranged from 7-9 dollars per entré with sandwich/salad combination for lunch and regular specials. There was no health notice on the door, so that's ruled out. These "unknowable reasons" remain a mystery.
The pressing question facing us now can only be, "Where are we going to get Spaghetti and meatball now?" As far as I know there's only one Italian place left in Davis and I hear it's expensive. Davis awaits an answer.
Rostini was often packed and the food was consistently delicious. The prices ranged from 7-9 dollars per entré with sandwich/salad combination for lunch and regular specials. There was no health notice on the door, so that's ruled out. These "unknowable reasons" remain a mystery.
The pressing question facing us now can only be, "Where are we going to get Spaghetti and meatball now?" As far as I know there's only one Italian place left in Davis and I hear it's expensive. Davis awaits an answer.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Gone Baby, Gone.
I'm gone, out of there, and yet the other day I walked past someone at my school who must use the same fabric softener as that place and I literally shuddered. A chill ran down my spine.
The insanity, the rules changing every day, the denial of the people in charge, the unwillingness to listen to doctors or consider that it was their behavior that was causing trouble. The violent outbursts of someone who literally can't think for herself by law and the pathetic attempts to control it with coercion and bribery or playing games and singing songs. Absolutely the saddest thing I've ever seen. It should be a crime to make someone so miserable.
Of course I called authorities. They didn't care, or couldn't. She was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head, what more could they do? Apparently, caring for a psychotic family member is better than making the state do it.
I learned a lot from this. Of course, I had to be screwed over first. I always learn the hard way. But I'm happy now. I can see it in my face when I look in the mirror. My features have calmed, my skin is clearing and my eyes are opening.
My husband told me today he's more affectionate because he was afraid to be prior to my leaving. I was so strung out with stress and worry. When he told me, "don't go back" after the doctor cut out a hole in my arm to drain the mrsa infection I got from that place I was so relieved. It was over. I was gone.
Also, to get a text message telling me I needed to think about whether I wanted to be there anymore. Ha. Not answering was the best "go fuck yourself" I could give them. Let them deal with one more person (of many) who jetted on them and their toxic insanity. Maybe this time they'd finally realize that when everyone has a problem with you, you're the problem.
I doubt it. Their self-righteous indignation against the world while the mom hid in her room to drown out the screams and the sister hid outside to smoke her "prescription" just to gather the courage to be in the same room. Oh, but they wanted the girl to come home. They just thought the behaviors would end there. The countless group homes, staff and psychiatrists that were out of ideas were the bad guys and everything would be cake for them because they were family and would do better. They "understood" her. They were way in over their heads.
I can only hope for her sake she gets taken away. Put back on the drugs that had her stable. Have her surrounded by people that are actually going to give them in the right doses at the right time instead of changing them every week. It's the only way she'll be able to live out her life in any kind of comfort. Far away from them. Same for me. Far, far away from there.
The insanity, the rules changing every day, the denial of the people in charge, the unwillingness to listen to doctors or consider that it was their behavior that was causing trouble. The violent outbursts of someone who literally can't think for herself by law and the pathetic attempts to control it with coercion and bribery or playing games and singing songs. Absolutely the saddest thing I've ever seen. It should be a crime to make someone so miserable.
Of course I called authorities. They didn't care, or couldn't. She was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head, what more could they do? Apparently, caring for a psychotic family member is better than making the state do it.
I learned a lot from this. Of course, I had to be screwed over first. I always learn the hard way. But I'm happy now. I can see it in my face when I look in the mirror. My features have calmed, my skin is clearing and my eyes are opening.
My husband told me today he's more affectionate because he was afraid to be prior to my leaving. I was so strung out with stress and worry. When he told me, "don't go back" after the doctor cut out a hole in my arm to drain the mrsa infection I got from that place I was so relieved. It was over. I was gone.
Also, to get a text message telling me I needed to think about whether I wanted to be there anymore. Ha. Not answering was the best "go fuck yourself" I could give them. Let them deal with one more person (of many) who jetted on them and their toxic insanity. Maybe this time they'd finally realize that when everyone has a problem with you, you're the problem.
I doubt it. Their self-righteous indignation against the world while the mom hid in her room to drown out the screams and the sister hid outside to smoke her "prescription" just to gather the courage to be in the same room. Oh, but they wanted the girl to come home. They just thought the behaviors would end there. The countless group homes, staff and psychiatrists that were out of ideas were the bad guys and everything would be cake for them because they were family and would do better. They "understood" her. They were way in over their heads.
I can only hope for her sake she gets taken away. Put back on the drugs that had her stable. Have her surrounded by people that are actually going to give them in the right doses at the right time instead of changing them every week. It's the only way she'll be able to live out her life in any kind of comfort. Far away from them. Same for me. Far, far away from there.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Logging Miles
I've used a few different running apps, but the two best are Runkeeper and MapMyRun by far. Those two I've created accounts with and have used to track my progress.
Between just those two apps, when I've used them to track my runs, I've run 163.48 miles. This isn't counting the running for women classes or the first two months of my running when I first started.
Even though there have been breaks, I'm still pretty proud of that, seeing as how that's probably 100 times more than I had ever run in my adult life before July of 2011.
I expect to break 200 before April is out, but that's only if I record my workouts. I kind of like being able to keep a record. The races are a bit easier; I've run 15k total. :)
Between just those two apps, when I've used them to track my runs, I've run 163.48 miles. This isn't counting the running for women classes or the first two months of my running when I first started.
Even though there have been breaks, I'm still pretty proud of that, seeing as how that's probably 100 times more than I had ever run in my adult life before July of 2011.
I expect to break 200 before April is out, but that's only if I record my workouts. I kind of like being able to keep a record. The races are a bit easier; I've run 15k total. :)
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Running updates
I ran my third and slowest 5k yesterday, three minutes behind my last time. I was kind of enjoying the scenery at Tower Bridge too much at the race start and didn't really power-walk the intervals until at least halfway. I enjoyed it, though.
So what's next? Well, I signed up for Running for Women again. This time the goal is a 10k. I'll be doing the Davis Moonlighting run in July but there will also be a run tied to the RFW group. I'm excited. I have a lot to look forward to.
So what's next? Well, I signed up for Running for Women again. This time the goal is a 10k. I'll be doing the Davis Moonlighting run in July but there will also be a run tied to the RFW group. I'm excited. I have a lot to look forward to.
Learning Patience
Edit: 3/17/13
I wrote this a few months ago and, as you will see, had had it scheduled to post two years form the date I wrote it. My circumstances have changed dramatically, so I've decided to go ahead and publish it, giving my readers an idea of where I was at in my previous job. I'll also update on a later post what's been going on since I left that hellhole, but for now, I'm going to coffee with my husband.
I'm writing this blog on January 29, 2013. I've scheduled it for two years from now. I'm hoping I'll be able to look back on this and it will all be a memory by then. Perhaps I'll have different problems. Perhaps I'll have lived some more dreams.
Everything in me wants to be impatient, rash and impulsive. It's taken a long time for me to be able to control that part of me and put my future ahead of my "now." I have to remember this isn't forever. Every knot on my head, landed blow on my side and arms, every spoonful of food thrown on my fav, everyday my back aches, I have to remember: I'm learning patience; it's not forever. It might not even be much longer, despite the financial pressure to stay.
Putting myself into an uncomfortable position now so that I can be somewhere else in two years. It takes a lot. I'd love to publish this in 2015 and have already reaped from this taxing and draining situation. The seeds are planted.
I wrote this a few months ago and, as you will see, had had it scheduled to post two years form the date I wrote it. My circumstances have changed dramatically, so I've decided to go ahead and publish it, giving my readers an idea of where I was at in my previous job. I'll also update on a later post what's been going on since I left that hellhole, but for now, I'm going to coffee with my husband.
I'm writing this blog on January 29, 2013. I've scheduled it for two years from now. I'm hoping I'll be able to look back on this and it will all be a memory by then. Perhaps I'll have different problems. Perhaps I'll have lived some more dreams.
Everything in me wants to be impatient, rash and impulsive. It's taken a long time for me to be able to control that part of me and put my future ahead of my "now." I have to remember this isn't forever. Every knot on my head, landed blow on my side and arms, every spoonful of food thrown on my fav, everyday my back aches, I have to remember: I'm learning patience; it's not forever. It might not even be much longer, despite the financial pressure to stay.
Putting myself into an uncomfortable position now so that I can be somewhere else in two years. It takes a lot. I'd love to publish this in 2015 and have already reaped from this taxing and draining situation. The seeds are planted.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
I was going to run yesterday...
I swear I was. Being in Disneyland until 11pm didn't really leave me a whole lot of time to go running. Besides, we walked all over yesterday. I'm certain that counts as exercise. Maybe I'll do some squats or something in line...
8:)
8:)
Monday, February 4, 2013
So I have this step brother
UPDATE: Apparently, the bullshit comment stated below was an inside joke between my step brother and my dad, so I deleted my comments and apologized. I left it at that, but I also had to explain to my stepmom that my reaction didn't come from nowhere, and that it had been influenced by other comments that he's made online.
And he's an asshole. He always has been. Arrogant, cocky, ignorant, know-it all conservative with a serious chip on his shoulder over his parents' divorce.
Last year, he was hit on the head by some very large pipes that fell off a truck he was loading. He wasn't wearing a hard-hat and he ended up with bleeding on his brain stem.
He's recovering well, gaining movement and feeling in his face. He can walk and talk but needs to have his food pureed still. It seems as if his cognitive abilities (the little he had) have not been effected by the accident. He suffers no memory loss except for the accident itself and he "has his wits about him," so to speak.
Of course, he's not working anymore, which means he gets to spend more time on facebook. I had blocked him long ago after he got drunk on Thanksgiving, broke my father's table and yelled that my dad was the worst thing to happen to his mom (because she was so much better off living with this schizophrenic father? Ok). I recently unblocked him because there was a family photo from Christmas that he had commented on and I wanted to see what he had said. The only reason I knew he had commented was because my stepmom had commented after him, "Now, Brian..." The comment was some off-hand remark about how terrible it must be hanging around a "bunch of liberals."
Since then, he's commented on other pictures, including one where me and my little sister are laughing our heads off to which he suggested we go ride the short bus. He knows what field I work in, as well, and knows I don't appreciate humor which demeans people who have developmental disabilities.
Recently, my dad (who isn't often on facebook) wrote a really nice status update about his birthday and the Super Bowl, getting to spend time with family, despite the fact that the Niners lost (next year, bitches, next year). My step brother's response? "Hope you like the bullshit!"
Really, motherfucker? My stepmom is nice, but she did no good with that one. He's stolen their car and savings before, went AWOL from the Navy, has a gambling addiction and always gets treated like some fucking miracle of god because the doctors made the mistake of telling her she couldn't have children before she ended up getting pregnant with him.
Shouldn't there be some kind of step-sibling approval process before parents can remarry?
And he's an asshole. He always has been. Arrogant, cocky, ignorant, know-it all conservative with a serious chip on his shoulder over his parents' divorce.
Last year, he was hit on the head by some very large pipes that fell off a truck he was loading. He wasn't wearing a hard-hat and he ended up with bleeding on his brain stem.
He's recovering well, gaining movement and feeling in his face. He can walk and talk but needs to have his food pureed still. It seems as if his cognitive abilities (the little he had) have not been effected by the accident. He suffers no memory loss except for the accident itself and he "has his wits about him," so to speak.
Of course, he's not working anymore, which means he gets to spend more time on facebook. I had blocked him long ago after he got drunk on Thanksgiving, broke my father's table and yelled that my dad was the worst thing to happen to his mom (because she was so much better off living with this schizophrenic father? Ok). I recently unblocked him because there was a family photo from Christmas that he had commented on and I wanted to see what he had said. The only reason I knew he had commented was because my stepmom had commented after him, "Now, Brian..." The comment was some off-hand remark about how terrible it must be hanging around a "bunch of liberals."
Since then, he's commented on other pictures, including one where me and my little sister are laughing our heads off to which he suggested we go ride the short bus. He knows what field I work in, as well, and knows I don't appreciate humor which demeans people who have developmental disabilities.
Recently, my dad (who isn't often on facebook) wrote a really nice status update about his birthday and the Super Bowl, getting to spend time with family, despite the fact that the Niners lost (next year, bitches, next year). My step brother's response? "Hope you like the bullshit!"
Really, motherfucker? My stepmom is nice, but she did no good with that one. He's stolen their car and savings before, went AWOL from the Navy, has a gambling addiction and always gets treated like some fucking miracle of god because the doctors made the mistake of telling her she couldn't have children before she ended up getting pregnant with him.
Shouldn't there be some kind of step-sibling approval process before parents can remarry?
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Davis Stampede
5k tomorrow morning, pre-superbowl. I don't expect to do well, but if I don't, I hope that at least my Niners beat the crap out of the Ravens. That's all.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Math is going well.
I've completed and tested for two of six modules in my math class already. I'm three weeks ahead of schedule. If I test this Saturday for the third, I'll be halfway done with a month of time left to finish early. I'll sign up for the next three units and hopefully be on the last three by April.
My module 13 test score was 95% and module 14 was 100%. They're twenty questions each. Not bad for someone who thought a few weeks ago that she couldn't do math and was expecting to test into arithmetic.
My module 13 test score was 95% and module 14 was 100%. They're twenty questions each. Not bad for someone who thought a few weeks ago that she couldn't do math and was expecting to test into arithmetic.
Disneyland V
In just a couple of weeks I'll be on my way to our fifth Disneyland trip in three years. My mom really likes taking us and has season passes, so getting hoppers for me and Chris is no big deal.
It's sort of a birthday trip, being in my birth month. The park is relatively empty this time of year, so lines will be short.
The only drawback is that Thunder Mountain will be closed for a refurb. No worries, though, as Space Mountain will be open (which, if closed, I wouldn't even bother going). I'm excited!!!
It's sort of a birthday trip, being in my birth month. The park is relatively empty this time of year, so lines will be short.
The only drawback is that Thunder Mountain will be closed for a refurb. No worries, though, as Space Mountain will be open (which, if closed, I wouldn't even bother going). I'm excited!!!
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Facing Facts
I've been a bit depressed lately, working long hours with a very difficult client. Going down to four days a week was helpful, but on those four days I leave the house at 6:30am and don't get home until almost 6pm.
I don't have much time for much else. I'm hungry and not motivated to run before dinner. It's dark and ugly out when I get home. My inactivity has cost me ten pounds. I finally weighed myself after months of not wanting to face it and I'm back up to 153. Lame.
I'm not going to dwell, I'm going to change. Pressing the reset button and starting over. This is me taking charge again.
I don't have much time for much else. I'm hungry and not motivated to run before dinner. It's dark and ugly out when I get home. My inactivity has cost me ten pounds. I finally weighed myself after months of not wanting to face it and I'm back up to 153. Lame.
I'm not going to dwell, I'm going to change. Pressing the reset button and starting over. This is me taking charge again.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Today, I passed my first algebra exam. I'm two weeks ahead of schedule in this work-at-your-own-pace class. I'm incredibly thrilled because, despite having tested into pre-algrebra before, finding the class difficult and signing up for remedial math, I somehow tested into Elementary Algebra. After getting my surprising results, I saw a flyer for this class that is offered at the MMLC (math multimedia learning center). I dropped the other class and took this one. I can do three, six or nine units. Six units gives me credit for Elementary Algebra, nine gets me through Elementary and Intermediate. What a deal. I thought I had to work my way up through two years of math in order to finally graduate. Now, after this semester, I could be looking at graduating next December. Time for a counseling appointment.
Now if only I could figure out where I'm going to get the money for a four-year if I plan to transfer right away...
Now if only I could figure out where I'm going to get the money for a four-year if I plan to transfer right away...
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
*Sigh*
I had to buy a Ficus today. No, really. A new succulent (got my eye on some Hen and Chicks) just wasn't going to cut it. I went to school to test and there's no testing this week. I had the next three weeks planned out so that I could finish Part 1 of 3 before I went to Disneyland. It didn't help that the guy at the math lab gave me a snide little, "Should have checked the schedule closer" remark to which I replied, "Yeah, sorry, have a nice night," even though I wanted to say, "Don't have to be an asshole about it!" Even though I'm reaching twenty-nine this year, I look young and people still treat me like I'm wet behind the ears. I'm going to go on an agist rant here one of these days.
So, the ficus. I was driving home thinking all those same negative things that cloud me whenever I think about the years I've spent working full time and slowly chiseling away at the IGETC with no end in sight and I saw the sign for Ace was open. I knew Chris would sigh and shake his head when I got home, but damnit I was going to get a plant for my troubles.
It's not just school. It's not just that I've had to carry full time work for so long while taking classes so that I can get a piece of paper that says I'm too fucking good for the shitty pay and no benefits that comes with my chosen career. It's that this particular forty-hour work week I deal with these days is like nothing else I've ever had to deal with ever. I can't talk too much about it, but I am regularly screamed at, pinched, hair-pulled and hit. Every. Single. Day. I try to walk away from it, but I'm pressured to keep working and "powering through" what needs to be done. There was hope of a behaviorist and now that that's been smashed, I'm pretty much lost. I haven't been forceful about my concerns at work, but when I do politely mention that it's really hard to get things done in that environment, I'm politely told that once the work is done, the person hitting me will feel better and stop hitting me...for awhile.
I thought going from 50 hours to 40 hours a week would help, but instead of improving the situation, it's only slowed the bleeding of my soul. What would be awesome it three days a week, but there's no way we can afford that, especially if we're going to start looking for a bigger place (which I doubt we'll start doing), and car payment and bills and this and savings and blah. *siiiiiigggggggghhhhhhh* Everything is temporary, right? Someday I'm going to look back on these days and miss them, right?
Well, probably not the work. I thought co-habitating would bring about some ease in the finances, but damn, husbands are expensive to feed and water and so I won't actually be able to go part time to concentrate on school any time soon unless my other half's income suddenly increases dramatically. For now, I'm the bread winner.
What bothers me at night on those long commutes home is thinking about my dad. My dad worked his ass off, sacrificing time, watching his girls grow up, and eventually his marriage to put money in the bank. The bank ended up empty, taking the house, my sense of security and my future with it. C'est la vie, right? But here I am working myself thin to secure some kind of future for me and my husband and maybe a rugrat in the future (which will probably go the way of the cat I've wanted for two years, which is still waiting for "a bigger place" and "when we make more money." You know how it is).
I have an opportunity with this math class to take enough units to get me through two of the course I need in just one semester. Everything in me is telling me something bad is going to happen and I'm not going to be able to do it because, well, I have had a lot of trouble in math, I'm not convinced it wasn't a fluke that made me test into a level higher than the one I tested into before, and, well, I'm just fucking used to disappointment in life. I'm used to expecting the worst because it's turned out that way so many times. The two and a half years Chris and I have been here is the longest I have gone without moving since I was in my late teens.
So I bought a tree. Because a tree grows and it stays and it is going to need a bigger place some day and there's nothing that is going to stop it from outgrowing its surroundings and damnit, that's me. I have to outgrow it here. I have to outgrow the smallness I keep putting myself in. The little, tiny box of negativity and "But I can't" that I have gotten so used to. They say if you tie a baby elephant to a post and stick it to the ground, the elephant will grow up and never try to pull away from that post because, even though it's huge, it still thinks the post is still powerful enough to keep it from running away. I don't know if that's true, but I think I'm an elephant.
See, I'm a tree and I'm an elephant. Damnit, I can't keep these metaphors straight anymore.
Tl;dr: I have a ficus. Shit happens. Things will get better.
So, the ficus. I was driving home thinking all those same negative things that cloud me whenever I think about the years I've spent working full time and slowly chiseling away at the IGETC with no end in sight and I saw the sign for Ace was open. I knew Chris would sigh and shake his head when I got home, but damnit I was going to get a plant for my troubles.
It's not just school. It's not just that I've had to carry full time work for so long while taking classes so that I can get a piece of paper that says I'm too fucking good for the shitty pay and no benefits that comes with my chosen career. It's that this particular forty-hour work week I deal with these days is like nothing else I've ever had to deal with ever. I can't talk too much about it, but I am regularly screamed at, pinched, hair-pulled and hit. Every. Single. Day. I try to walk away from it, but I'm pressured to keep working and "powering through" what needs to be done. There was hope of a behaviorist and now that that's been smashed, I'm pretty much lost. I haven't been forceful about my concerns at work, but when I do politely mention that it's really hard to get things done in that environment, I'm politely told that once the work is done, the person hitting me will feel better and stop hitting me...for awhile.
I thought going from 50 hours to 40 hours a week would help, but instead of improving the situation, it's only slowed the bleeding of my soul. What would be awesome it three days a week, but there's no way we can afford that, especially if we're going to start looking for a bigger place (which I doubt we'll start doing), and car payment and bills and this and savings and blah. *siiiiiigggggggghhhhhhh* Everything is temporary, right? Someday I'm going to look back on these days and miss them, right?
Well, probably not the work. I thought co-habitating would bring about some ease in the finances, but damn, husbands are expensive to feed and water and so I won't actually be able to go part time to concentrate on school any time soon unless my other half's income suddenly increases dramatically. For now, I'm the bread winner.
What bothers me at night on those long commutes home is thinking about my dad. My dad worked his ass off, sacrificing time, watching his girls grow up, and eventually his marriage to put money in the bank. The bank ended up empty, taking the house, my sense of security and my future with it. C'est la vie, right? But here I am working myself thin to secure some kind of future for me and my husband and maybe a rugrat in the future (which will probably go the way of the cat I've wanted for two years, which is still waiting for "a bigger place" and "when we make more money." You know how it is).
I have an opportunity with this math class to take enough units to get me through two of the course I need in just one semester. Everything in me is telling me something bad is going to happen and I'm not going to be able to do it because, well, I have had a lot of trouble in math, I'm not convinced it wasn't a fluke that made me test into a level higher than the one I tested into before, and, well, I'm just fucking used to disappointment in life. I'm used to expecting the worst because it's turned out that way so many times. The two and a half years Chris and I have been here is the longest I have gone without moving since I was in my late teens.
So I bought a tree. Because a tree grows and it stays and it is going to need a bigger place some day and there's nothing that is going to stop it from outgrowing its surroundings and damnit, that's me. I have to outgrow it here. I have to outgrow the smallness I keep putting myself in. The little, tiny box of negativity and "But I can't" that I have gotten so used to. They say if you tie a baby elephant to a post and stick it to the ground, the elephant will grow up and never try to pull away from that post because, even though it's huge, it still thinks the post is still powerful enough to keep it from running away. I don't know if that's true, but I think I'm an elephant.
See, I'm a tree and I'm an elephant. Damnit, I can't keep these metaphors straight anymore.
Tl;dr: I have a ficus. Shit happens. Things will get better.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Dan Ferrier
What I remember about Dan Ferrier the handful of times I met him was his commitment to health, his friends and his community. He had a continually positive outlook on life. I hadn't seen him in quite a few years, but trying to diffuse a fight sounds exactly like him. My heart goes out to his loved ones and all who were close to him.
Christmas
Note: I began writing this a couple days after Christmas and didn't publish it. I've decided to go ahead and post it anyway.
Despite my general bah-humbugging, Christmas turned out to be pretty nice. I'm going through a rough time right now, regretting some decisions I've made regarding my career and education, trading financial security in my twenties for some long-term goals I've pushed back. Now that I'm trapped in a career with no way out without risking everything I have, I find myself kicking my own ass for putting myself here.
This, coupled with the losses Chris and I have been dealt this year in losing both of our Grandmas has left me feeling like there's something missing from Christmas that we'll never get back.
Due to the holidays being such miserable bitch-fests between my broken family while I was growing up, it's hard enough for me to enjoy them. My family hadn't spent Christmas with Gram for a number of years before she passed away, despite having grown up going to her house for every holiday, but this year she's gone and that fact solidifies that those days, that joy and union of family, the celebration of together-ness, is gone. What's left is a December I have to juggle between warring factions, watching what I say in front of whichever party is present at whichever dinner I'm attending.
Maybe I'm just depressed because I took a job way beyond my physical, mental, and emotional abilities and skills. I can't go into too much detail, but I was starting to get hopeful when a professional was called in. They were subsequently dashed by the pickiness and eccentricities of both parties involved and now it's back to square one. I've also discovered I have no more hope of getting affordable health care through this job than I did the last.
Anyway, I started this post explaining how this Christmas was nice and ended up dumping my depressive thoughts all over it. Let me start again.
First, I have the best husband in the world. I can't express enough how supportive he is, even when he doesn't really understand my poor articulation of my own feelings. He's just there for me no matter what.
My family, though broken, split and scattered from the Bay Area to the foothills, have managed to come together for sharing the best of us together. My stepmom made Chris and me a quilt, her very first one. That we were her first project says so much about the repair and building of the relationship between me and her. This wouldn't have always been the case.
My mom worked her ass off at her Christmas to have a dinner and gift exchange for no less than seventeen people. I don't know how she does it, but it went off without a hitch. Her and my stepdad bought us a forty-inch television for Christmas, which we never would have been able to afford on our own.
Christmas day we had a quiet and lovely gift exchange and lamb dinner at my In-Laws' place. I was quite comfortable until Chris reminded me I had to work the next day. We stopped by our friend's apartment on the way home and I finally felt like I could get into the Christmas spirit. My friends are expecting a baby and it is so great to see them so happy.
Despite my change in attitude, the next day I breathed a sigh of relief that Christmas was finally one day in the past. I don't think that's perfectly abnormal, even for those who love Christmas. Anyway, it is what it is and it's over now. On to the New Year.
Despite my general bah-humbugging, Christmas turned out to be pretty nice. I'm going through a rough time right now, regretting some decisions I've made regarding my career and education, trading financial security in my twenties for some long-term goals I've pushed back. Now that I'm trapped in a career with no way out without risking everything I have, I find myself kicking my own ass for putting myself here.
This, coupled with the losses Chris and I have been dealt this year in losing both of our Grandmas has left me feeling like there's something missing from Christmas that we'll never get back.
Due to the holidays being such miserable bitch-fests between my broken family while I was growing up, it's hard enough for me to enjoy them. My family hadn't spent Christmas with Gram for a number of years before she passed away, despite having grown up going to her house for every holiday, but this year she's gone and that fact solidifies that those days, that joy and union of family, the celebration of together-ness, is gone. What's left is a December I have to juggle between warring factions, watching what I say in front of whichever party is present at whichever dinner I'm attending.
Maybe I'm just depressed because I took a job way beyond my physical, mental, and emotional abilities and skills. I can't go into too much detail, but I was starting to get hopeful when a professional was called in. They were subsequently dashed by the pickiness and eccentricities of both parties involved and now it's back to square one. I've also discovered I have no more hope of getting affordable health care through this job than I did the last.
Anyway, I started this post explaining how this Christmas was nice and ended up dumping my depressive thoughts all over it. Let me start again.
First, I have the best husband in the world. I can't express enough how supportive he is, even when he doesn't really understand my poor articulation of my own feelings. He's just there for me no matter what.
My family, though broken, split and scattered from the Bay Area to the foothills, have managed to come together for sharing the best of us together. My stepmom made Chris and me a quilt, her very first one. That we were her first project says so much about the repair and building of the relationship between me and her. This wouldn't have always been the case.
My mom worked her ass off at her Christmas to have a dinner and gift exchange for no less than seventeen people. I don't know how she does it, but it went off without a hitch. Her and my stepdad bought us a forty-inch television for Christmas, which we never would have been able to afford on our own.
Christmas day we had a quiet and lovely gift exchange and lamb dinner at my In-Laws' place. I was quite comfortable until Chris reminded me I had to work the next day. We stopped by our friend's apartment on the way home and I finally felt like I could get into the Christmas spirit. My friends are expecting a baby and it is so great to see them so happy.
Despite my change in attitude, the next day I breathed a sigh of relief that Christmas was finally one day in the past. I don't think that's perfectly abnormal, even for those who love Christmas. Anyway, it is what it is and it's over now. On to the New Year.
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