Lawd Lawd Lawd

My nose is runny, my throat is sore
Lawd Lawd Lawd
Work pissin me off like never before
Lawd Lawd Lawd

I say Lawd Lawd Lawd
Come on Lawd Lawd Lawd

When does a gal get to say "kiss my ass?"

Bricks

From my dementia rescue post:

This group more than most understands how precious memories are. I wanted to wish you all a happy memorial day.

I am making progress towards going home-getting things in order, step by step. My parents need me more than I realized-for instance they asked me when I came on Saturday why I didn't load the truck up since I was driving up anyway. (I can't walk and I don't have any place to put the stuff yet). Rather than get upset, I just blurted out "well, I can't walk and I have no place to put my stuff" and then we all had a good laugh.

Mom and I had fun shopping for necessary items and we finalized the arrangements for Uncle John. Having a unanimous choice of facilities for him was a huge relief to me-ultimately I do have to make the decisions, but this time I enjoyed the help.

We went by my old highschool (US Grant) which is now in rubble-the new highschool has been built. When I couldn't get three bricks with red on them (I am very unsteady on my feet) my Mom went out and got two more for me (I could only reach one).

Those bricks are now precious-not because they came from my highschool, but because Mom and I got them together. Memories are the foundation of who we are.


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Now, I am not abandoning my midlife crisis. But part of the deal is figuring out who I am, who I was, and where I fit in. Midlife is the tricky part where the rules change all over again.

Remember in Star Trek, the movie, where Kirstie Alley quizzes Captain Kirk about changing the rules so he could pass a test? Maybe Captain Kirk knew something we didn't. Maybe the rules are only the rules if we all agree that's what they are.

Onward

A run up to OKC to get John's place worked out, floors picked out and furniture ordered. A nice steak lunch (thanks Ma) and back home. Well, that took two days actually and I had to use a cane for the last part-I'm beat and ready to lay down to rest.

As for the work thing-there came another evil option in my brain whilst I was on the highway. Has anyone ever seen a great movie called Emperor of the North with Ernest Borgnine and Lee Marvin? Well at one point, the conductor (Ernest Borgnine) got the train moving sooooooo fast he reckoned the hobo (Lee Marvin) oouldn't jump on it. But the smart hobo got ahead of the train and diverted it on to another track-where it was going to go head on with another train. The train made it to a side junction, but had to stop for the other train to pass, and on hopped the clever hobo.

So, that is what I was thinking about when "be the hobo" popped into my head. Let the dumbass speed that train just as fast she wants, but pick my own moment to hop on or hop off. It's her train and her trainwreck, she just doesn't realize it yet (because she won't listen to me).

And that gets back to my baggage observation. It aint my baggage and it aint my train...and by golly, I AM the one who gets to decide that.

Quitting

Quitting and giving the notice only gives the workplace freedom to torture you just that much longer. And yet, I cannot, just simply cannot walk around telling the emperor what nice clothes he has on. Even for the next two weeks. I wish I could, I try to, but it just isn't in me.

For instance, even if I didn't like a person, if they were on a train track, and the train was coming, I'd say "look, the train is coming" and then if they chose not to listen, oh well. But for some reason, a certain idiot is trying to get me to drive the damn train off the track that they are standing on.

It's like "c'mon Deb, drive off the cliff and when you're gone we'll blame it on you".

Today the freak actually tried to threaten me by saying "we'll get someone else to do it if you won't" and I said "fine, you do that.".....but of course there IS no one else so I was not saved from further torment.

The situation is a little bit akin to being asked to slip the needle in your vein AFTER you plan your own funeral. Why would I do that?

The Cosmic Hokey Pokey

First a funny story. A co-worker brought in a pile of flowcharts he'd printed, there were 5 copies of 4 pages, all out of order. I quickly looked through and then sorted them. The issue my co-worker had with it was that I sorted them face down. When flipped over, they were in the correct order. It was a rainman moment and I really don't understand it. Unlike the movie, I can't bring call the ability at will.

Then a revelation of sorts. A late afternoon thunderstorm combined with a spicey oyster dish and a nap to come up with the mother of all weird dreams. No need to explain the ingredients, I understood where they came from and what they were trying to tell me.

Big whammy one-Forgiveness is something I need to learn right now. No surprise, I've been struggling with it for awhile. Bigger whammy-things that aren't mine to forgive are not mine to dwell on either. I am not responsible for the hurts that other people have put on other people....I didn't do it and I can't forgive it. It just isn't mine. Some of the baggage I've been carrying around for a really long time was empty-it wasn't mine, it never was. I need to let all that go.

Believe it or not-for many women the idea that we are not somehow responsible for every ill thing that befalls those we love is a huge huge revelation. Come on ladies, crawl off the cross or your martyrdom symbol of preference.

Psycho babble says that we make ourselves responsible because we'd rather be in charge than admit we are powerless. There is merit to that-but I think there is also a simpler answer-the world of full of people who will yell and point at you and say "what did YOU do?"

Yes folks, it's the cosmic hot potatoe tactic. Or the I'm rubber you're glue, what (shit) bounces off me and sticks to YOU. Try being the rubber today-don't let other people load down your soul bags with their shit. Remember the bigger whammy from above-if it aint yours, don't tote it around.

Give me this day....

It's sad when you wake up and immediately get a knot in your stomach thinking about how to survive the day. So much to do, so much to unravel. The Boogy Man is at work, the Boogy man also lives in Oklahoma-so many terrors to face-failure, ridicule. Decisions suck.

Why do we have to make everything a right/wrong choice? Why can't it be this is the choice I made, and this is what the result was....no value judgement added.

Time to mentally say "back off-give me space". My home, my office, my birthplace have all suddenly turned into uncharted territory-that happens when you let go of beliefs and other notions you've long held. Hell, people pay thousands to go down the Amazon, and the jungle was right here in my own backyard!

Selling Out?

I am selling the Scotty-my family is deeply concerned about the age of the Scotty, the age of me, and my mechanical abilities. So I put her on the block, in the prime of her life.

Of course, I must ask, what does this mean to me and my midlife crisis? I'm still having one. But it also means that owning THAT particular Scotty is not as important as not worrying the people who love me-if buying a newer trailer to stage my midlife crisis will make them happy, then so be it.