Tag Archives: Family

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Former

I don’t have any original family. My brother was killed in 1988 by a drunk driver. My Dad died in 2020. My Mom died in 2021. I have my son, and he doesn’t live with me. I am a Solo.

When I was staging the house a year ago–how could that have only been a year ago?–I bought two items from the Thrift Store.

One was a heavy wrought iron side table with a wicker top. The other was a table just slightly higher with an almost square tiled top, but I don’t think that the legs are solid. It’s wrought iron too and easier to heft around. Not if you lay it on it’s side with other things in a small SUV. Anyway, LA accidentally broke the tile top on the table!

Broken top

I had been gifted a tile from one of my friends from the co-ed discussion group that I attend when I’m not bowling. I hadn’t hung it; although, it has a loop embedded in the back. As he’s the artist, I paid him $100 as a retainer after asking if he could arrange it with other tiles on the table top so I could use the table.

He told me a month later that he didn’t have the executive functioning skills to get it arranged and done. When I was picking the broken top up from him, the tile broke off in two pieces which was great. Now, I had the board, which fits the table.

I went to Design Center for contractors having spoken to one of the women who worked in the tile gallery. She had lunch leftover and I had a wonderful sandwich. She didn’t have any square tiles. However, she had two large tiles that were beautiful. They’re very heavy too. One of the designers couldn’t use these anymore as the manufacturer has discontinued the tile. I got them for free!

I started thinking about design

I figured that I would check out a tile saw from the non-profit that we have in our city. I was texting off and on with my former sister-in-law about my idea for a cool table top. I mentioned that I would be using the non-profit. Her wife said that the non-profit has shitty tools. She said that she had all the things that I would need, and she’d help me make a new table top.

I’ve had to store things in my basement for almost a month!

I went over to my former sister-in-law’s house late afternoon yesterday. I gave her a giant hug. I gave her file folders which had been stored in a filing cabinet that’s in the closet in my office. The files had drawings and pictures that had been labelled by my former mother-in-law.

She said, “That’s my mother’s handwriting.” I said, “It’s all _______’s.” I told her that it would be good things for her twin’s celebration of life next month too. There were pictures of all three sisters in those files. It was emotional.

We talked for half-an-hour while her wife was getting everything ready for the project. Then her wife was super hungry so we went to dim sum. I got to know her much better at dinner. I’d met her briefly in July of 2022 when she and my sister-in-law arrived at my house to move out all of my ex-wife’s possessions. Now, I know her.

I’ll call her AR. She competent, direct, and quirky. She also is able to build and fix anything.

It was really late when we got back to their house. She started with a level and pencil. She found stored black grout. She’s making the top for me in exchange for dinner at dim sum. I’m not comfortable with that, so she’s also taking $100 and spending it on my son’s cousins. I may not be part of their family anymore, but I want their friendship and my son still considers all of them his family. Former or not, they’re wonderful humans.

Image by OurWhisky Foundation from Pixabay
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Life and Death

At the beginning of May I got a text from my aunt who lived at my parents’ house April of 2020 through mid-December of 2021 which said that my Mom’s only brother’s wife (my Aunt by marriage) had Stage 4 Brain and Lung Cancer and wouldn’t be seeking treatment. In the text it said that I was only to go through her and not anyone else. That felt weird so I said that I would send a message to my other cousin through FB because I had communication with her there and she freaked out. I get it. She’s 70 and thinks that people can read private messages.

I called her and she was so upset that she spent most of our conversation yelling at me. That’s about her and isn’t about me. She’s about the same right now and really negative so I’m not talking to her or communicating with her much. I never had noticed how much unsolicited advice that she gives either until this time.

She called me Saturday afternoon and I was in a coffee shop.

I was at a coffee shop because my house is still tented, plastic is everywhere and the rooms are either barren or have odd things around such as ladders, equipment and I don’t have faces on many of my cabinets as repainting those is a whole 3-day process that the project manager has described as “tedious.” I was taking space from this disorder in a local coffee shop.

When my Aunt called I said, “Hi, I’m in a coffee shop and I’ll have to go outside,” and then when I walked outside and put my cell back to my ear she was still talking. She then said, “I’m not sure that I’m supposed to tell you but Aunt _______ passed away this afternoon,” and I said, “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll text ________.” She told me don’t call until tomorrow. I said, “Ok, thanks for letting me know.” She talked about my not calling or getting into contact with my cousins today some more and I just listened to her prattle and didn’t say anything because she’s been on edge and prone to yelling. I know it’s stress, but I can avoid being the recipient of her mismanagement of it.

I texted my cousin and she and I exchanged texts afternoon and evening on Saturday. My other cousin, who I recently had breakfast with when she was here for an appointment with her daughter, texted me too.

It’s going to be really rough, but I’ll drive approximately 5-hours  before the sun comes up on Thursday morning to attend my Aunt’s wake and funeral. I’m driving back around 1 pm or so because I don’t want to be away from my house or pets. Luckily, my neighbors are feeding (both meals) and tending to my pets a few times on Thursday.

I’m loyal to this Aunt. She has put flowers on my brother’s grave for years. This uncle, who is my Mom’s only brother and was married to my Aunt, drove my brother’s body to this area where my mother’s family was born and farmed. He got my brother’s body to the church and he’s buried near my Grandfather who I adored.

They’re good people and I’m proud to have them as my family.

When my mother died, my son, my then wife, the Aunt who took care of my parents’ house, my Uncle (mother’s brother) and my cousin and I conducted a short graveside service at my brother’s and grandfather’s grave for my parents. We spread ashes of my parents’ on those graves. Doves landed on the wires and sang songs. It was nice and simple.

I’m really glad to be there for this cousin on Thursday to be part of rituals for the loss of her mother. Sadly, her mother was my cousin’s self-described “person,” and from what I’ve gathered via text was her touchstone. This loss will be incredibly difficult for her. Like me, she has one brother, and I’ve not seen him in nearly 30-years. It will be nice to see him; although, that our connection is at his mother’s funeral is sad. His sister is a gem and wrote to my mother for years. There were times that my mother received her letters when she was in the facility too. Again, they’re wonderful family members.

Rituals for the dead are really for the living
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Threshold

I went to kickball last night and had a good time connecting with my team. I didn’t go play flip cup, because I don’t want to drink very much while I’m processing the murder in the acute stage. I also have my feelings with regards to not being in my previous family anymore.

I’ve gotten so many of my friends and also my family members to donate to the fund for her orphaned children that she leaves behind. I think that I’m doing as well as I possibly can with processing this event and what it means in my life given that I am not involved with my ex-wife’s family anymore. I’m feeling better with regards to this tragedy.

I’m not Zen about my house. How do people live in a house while it’s being painted without going over the edge?

It’s really hard to live with tented furniture that was limited anyway. I’d only left my bed, my dining area table, and the desk and it’s wires. Yesterday, because the floors were taped, plastic-covered and papered, I felt like I was living in “ET” when the hazmat scientists start to study the creature.

So, I had a lapse in judgement. I didn’t pay too much. Well, a bit.

I bruise easily. However, these are pretty bad. If I knew where my oral arnica was, I’d take it, but things are piled in linen closet and other places so most things are blocked, and I only know where my topical arnica is. I applied it, but I imagine that I’ll look bad for a week or so.

I’m reading “Where Men Win Glory,” and it’s great. Last night after kickball, feeding my pets, and walking my dogs I wanted to read in a chair. Not in my dining area, but in a chair. I wanted to get a fabric chair upstairs from the basement. I have a staircase and a baby gate that is retractable at the top of my stairs.

Best laid plans…

I got the ottoman for the chair upstairs fairly swiftly and slunk around the ladder, the staging area, and traipsed through the paper and plastic that my dogs and cats have dug up and moved around, but the chair that goes with my ottoman is an entirely different story.

I got it out of the hoarder piles and around my upturned loveseat and existing table in my basement. Recall if you’ve read previous entries that movers emptied my upstairs so my basement isn’t usable. It’s like a Jenga Tower which has fallen.

I moved the chair around stacks of boxes and such and then got it to the base of my staircase. I thought that inverted and pulling it up each stair was good. I got it up all the stairs. Then it got caught on one of the plastic hooks on my gate.

I needed a Phillips Head Screwdriver, but those were in the laundry room closet. All of my large storing and my laundry machines are downstairs. Downstairs was blocked.

I was sweating so badly. Although the chair is fabric, it was really difficult to get it back downstairs because plastic tenting kept attacking me in my stairwell. It would stick to me too or would trip me. I imprisoned my shoe under the chair and almost fell until I shimmied the shoe off under the chair. It was now 8:30 and I’d done cardio with my son, ran errands, kicked, ran and scored two runs in kickball. I was a sweaty and angry mess.

I texted my neighbors who are like family to me. They said that I could borrow a screwdriver. I got the clip off without breaking it. The screws were really long. I made a mental note to use my electric screwdriver when I was no longer blocked out of my basement and could get tools. I pushed the chair all the way back down and removed the gate clip and it was really hard.

I went back downstairs and realized that I would have to slide the chair sideways with the legs toward the banister. That worked until I had to hoist under it from the top of my stairs. Heaving and hoeing finally got it upstairs and I got it into the corner by my living room window and successfully avoiding buckets of paint and a ladder.

I still couldn’t read though.

Now, I had to screw back the gate clips. Well, the screwdriver was set to left. I unscrewed my work and nearly fell backward. Then it was too big for the screwhead. I got the other one that we have and discovered that the nut is missing to attach non-drill pieces. That was something that my son was famous for during his whole life. He would take things out of my tools and they wound up in the _______ chasm of loss. My drill isn’t usable as a screwdriver anymore and the other electric screwdriver is too big for very small screw heads.

Finally, I just screwed them in by hand enough so that the top of the gate was somewhat secure and read for an hour in the damn chair! I have the bruises to prove it.

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Healing

It’s been helpful to tell the story about my former sister-in-law’s murder to people who care about me or love me. I also completed an intake with my department’s employee assistance program last week and they’ve matched me with a therapist who can provide Eye Movement Reprocessing Desensitization (EMDR). I was able to sing with friends last night too, which was lovely.

EMDR uses techniques to engage both sides of your body with noise, light, your hands, etc. and the therapist has you talk about what happened and then you feel your feelings about the event or events. I know that sounds trite. “Feel your feelings.” However, people are more likely to numb with alcohol or drugs or play hours of video games. They also may sleep or read for hours shutting out the world instead of thinking about the event. Some people don’t remember the event at all!

In EMDR the therapist or clinician also takes about your safety and coping in initial sessions with resourcing for you. That way, if you’re really triggered about the event, you have something that you can rely on in the session and after the session is completed. I’m looking forward to it.

In another entry I’d written about the appeal that I have with theater, music, and movement for trauma treatment. Well, last night we had one of our singalongs that we do at my best friend’s house. My Boss came as well. We also had a man there with a thick accent that sounded like Arabic or was influenced by languages in the middle east. However, he said his name in Polish, so I’m not sure where he is from or how many languages he speaks. I would imagine it’s three or more.

He could play a box drum and later in the night he played a tambourine. It was very cool. He didn’t sing and called himself a percussionist. We had two ukuleles as well. My best friend played two songs on the guitar, but mostly played her ukulele. I have no idea where my guitar is! I’ll be living like this in my house through Monday night because of the painting.

We sing by request from the group. I learned a new song that was in my head this morning when I woke up. It was sweet and fun.

There was this time when we were singing and playing “Greatest Love of All” that I started to cry a bit. No one noticed and I was able to quickly stop. I was thinking about in 2021 when my sister-in-law got out her guitar and was playing songs and her kids were sitting with her on the floor. My son was listening, and my wife was singing some. I didn’t sing, but was so impressed with her playing. She could remember without any music so many songs and then later she got out some music from her closet and sang more.

My brother-in-law was hovering and going in and out of the room. Finally he started complaining about “bedtime.” It was the only time that I heard my sister-in-law use a curt tone with him. She said that she didn’t know how many more songs that she would be playing, but it would be a few. He stomped off.

I’m looking forward to starting therapy on Tuesday. Music last night was healing too. I want to be functioning better than I am right now in two weeks. However, I am so lucky to have resources and friendships as I work through this event.

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Empty

TRIGGER WARNING

In 2021, we three went to visit my wife’s family. I said that we would be staying in a hotel room because although we were welcome at my mother-in-law’s, I had never liked my brother-in-law who also lived there at the time. He lived there on a small amount of rent, had the upstairs with his other three family members, and still bitched about my mother-in-law and her boyfriend all the time. My mother-in-law and her boyfriend, who owned that beautiful house, were doing much of the childcare and my mother-in-law also cooked the meals for all of six of them for over a year when their daughter was born. They already had one son.

It was mostly an ok trip until the last day before we were to begin our drive home.

We started out the day with my sister-in-law having to work; although we had a hike of a wild cave planned that morning. Because she worked in the solar industry, my son expressed interest in it and she took him to work with her. He helped her with some of the installation and learned a ton, and they listened to Nirvana and Pearl Jam, which blew his 15-year-old mind.

My wife and I did this incredible hike together while they were at the house installing some solar hook-ups. It was a nice way to wait for her to be done working. I was grateful that my sister-in-law took my son to work.

After she and my son were done with the installation, and they were heading back to pick us up at the trailhead where she’d dropped my wife and I off. We all went back to my mother-in-law’s to pick up her two kids for our exploration of a wild cave. Unfortunately, she got a call from the homeowner who said that her streaming service and internet was not working. My sister-in-law explained how to hook it up again, but they didn’t want to work on it. She ultimately had to go back all the way out to their house, so we were delayed to leave for our wild cave hike.

I was starving. I looked in the fridge and asked my mother-in-law if I could have two of the cooked eggs in there because she was making muffins for the road for my sister-in-law and us for our drive back. The kitchen was busy. My sister-in-law and her family were going to San Diego the next day for a few days, and as I’d said, we were beginning our drive back home that day as well.

They were special eggs. They were cooked and then cold water cooled. Not soft boiled, but not hard boiled either. They were my special-brother-in-law-eggs. My mother-in-law said that after she was done with the muffins she’d make two exactly how my brother-in-law liked them as he would be taking them to San Diego. She was making those muffins for us (her daughter’s family) and them (her other daughter’s family).

I ate two, and then we all sat around on our phones waiting for my sister-in-law to get back from the homeowners where she only had to turn on a switch.

My brother-in-law came home and said, “Oh, nice. Everybody is on their damn phones.”

I said, “I’m paying a new premium for my bundled car and home policy and had something time sensitive.”

And he scoffed.

I thought to myself, “Why should an adult have to explain what an adult is doing on a phone?”

Then the missing eggs were discovered. He said, “What the fuck!” He started slamming cabinet doors and said, “This kitchen is a mess!”

My mother-in-law said that after she was done with the muffins she was replacing those two eggs and told me that I could have them. I should point out that my sister and brother-in-law had chickens.

Then, the freakshow ensued. He was screaming and yelling and saying fuck more times than anyone could count.

I left and got in my wife’s car and went to Safeway. My mother in law called me when I was at Safeway and asked me to pick up vanilla ice cream for her cobbler. I bought that and the eggs and came back to the house.

My sister-in-law and my brother-in-law were arguing in the driveway. After awhile he came over the car where I was parked two houses away and he said, “I didn’t know everyone is so sensitive!”

I said, “______, you’re in the wrong. You flipped out over two eggs that would be replaced. They will be and I bought you a dozen new ones. He said, “Well, I’m sorry.” I said, “Ok, I hope that you have some rest when you get to San Diego.”

We explored the wild cave only us three.

Wild and scary cave.

I guess that my telling everyone that I was raised by someone who raged and flew off the handle all the time and wouldn’t be around it or that behavior ever again was a catalyst. Within a few weeks of that day they had a family meeting. Within a few months they would move back to their house that they owned. My mother-in-law still helped with her grandkids all the time. I’ll never forget her telling me that night when we had cobbler at our hotel, “That is between them. I don’t understand her choice in a spouse.”

The following winter they moved. They had to complete some renovations on their old home before settling back there with their two kids. They lived there about two-years.

He murdered her there last month.

I have cried off and on all day. I texted my ex-wife in the late afternoon. It said that my son said that he’d spoken with her. I asked if she was all talked out and said that if she wasn’t, I’d listen. I talked to her for well over two hours. I had not spoken to her in 25-months.

I feel empty, depleted, and I hope that narcissist rots in hell.

Left behind are two orphaned children. I can’t believe that my sister-in-law is gone. She was funny, active and took me on some wonderful hikes. She played Nintendo with me in my basement before she had her kids. She could play guitar and was always up for anything. I’ll never laugh with her again or go on an adventure. My son never had the opportunity to learn from her again.

I’ll leave you with one of the last texts that I received from her “I’m glad that I got to spend some time getting to know ___ a little more too when you guys came out. His interests remind me a lot of my teenage years too. 🙂 We’re moving out of this house in a few months so I’ll have a chance to look at some of my old stuff I saved. If I see anything he might like I’ll save it for him. 🤠”

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Elders

The first time that I went to the women’s discussion group, I met my friend’s husband’s Mom. She attended it and when I found out who she was the next time that I attended group, I thought, “I can’t believe how supportive she is of her son and the life of him and his family members.” It’s one thing to support orientation and it’s quite another to sit in a group as an ally. She is very cool and she likes my salads, so she’s getting that on the 18th for group! She’ll be in town in a couple of weeks.

I was grateful that when my Dad died and my Mom wanted to get home, but was probably never going to get there, that her youngest sister stayed in their house. She visited my Mom every week too when my Mom was still in assisted living and was declining. I talked a lot with my aunt then. We used to go swimming together at my wife’s condo as a family and had her over for dinner several times too. My Mom’s last outing was at my house for Thanksgiving with my Aunt and my family. My wife had just gotten out of a short psychiatric placement the night before. I wouldn’t want to relive very many moments from 2014 forward.

I liked that my Aunt supported. I appreciated all that she did for my mother after my Dad died and always thanked her. She moved out of state at the end of 2021, and has visited a handful of times in 2022 and 2023. I don’t want her to visit me again.

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

She asked how my son is and I was honest. He’s not working. He failed a class. He took a leave of absence from school and is restarting the program midway through next month. He can’t give me a straight answer with regards to how many clinical rotations he needs. He’s morbidly obese. His current gf is controlling and hasn’t been a good influence on him. I don’t see evidence of him trying to address his mental health.

I talk to my aunt once monthly on the phone. She is a link to my Mom. On Thursday, we spoke.

I told her that his father’s lease is up on Halloween and I don’t know if our son will have a driver’s license then and don’t think that he’ll be done with school. I told her that he can live with me in November and December and then has to move on.

She unloaded on me. She said that my ex-husband and I are enablers. She said that we are like her daughter’s friend’s parent’s who have 40-year-olds living at home.

With all due respect, I didn’t ask for advice.

You also sound really misinformed when you compare the brain of an 18-year-old to that of a 40-year-old.

My Aunt believes that because my son wasn’t out on his own when he was 17 and graduated that he won’t be different at 25.

I know that my aunt is 20-years older than me. However, she’s super critical and very religious and says things about people all the time. I know enough to realize that if people talk about others in a judgmental way that they’re also following suit with you.

My son will turn 19 at the end of January, and because he doesn’t have much motivation, he’ll have to learn lots of things through error because he can’t live with either one of us after December 31st. I don’t want him here because he doesn’t help, is always on his phone, and hasn’t learned how to contribute yet. He also has a tendency to yell or say demeaning things when he’s asked to help with something, or has to complete something that he didn’t want to do. His Dad is moving in with a gf which is very good because he hasn’t lived with me in almost 17-years. I don’t want to live with anyone. I also don’t want to engage with my aunt anymore. I’ll call her once in July.

I will have to see her face to face sometime soon. My Uncle, who is my Mom’s only brother, is losing his wife to cancer. She’s a non-biological aunt. She has a goal to die in August. I think that she has really rough days. I know that my Aunt helps them out a ton. She operates in a binary and has a dichotomy of saying “God’s plan,” all the time and then losing it other times. She has a tendency to bury strong emotion so it makes her critical, and frankly, explosive, at other times. I’ll have to see her at the funeral, and I’ll also have to find another house and pet sitter at that point too because my son will be with me.

How do you interact with elders in your family?

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Mom

I’ve been thinking about Mom and dreaming about her a lot lately. I’m reasonably sure that I know why.

I feel like that I’m having time to be and breathe. I’m sure, too, that given that it’s Easter this weekend, I am thinking about holidays without family.

Sunday, I have an invitation to friends, and I know that I’ve written here that I don’t say no to those, but I have been eating yogurt, eggs and canned soup and don’t want to be around yummy food and alcohol. I also don’t want to talk about the hole in my mouth with people whom I don’t really know. I’ve known this colleague for 24-years this fall, but she’s an extrovert’s extrovert, so loves to entertain and make small talk. LA always invites me to these things–she’s really close with this colleague–and I did go to the Blues BBQ (live band) and also Christmas Eve. I am not going to Easter. In fact, I’ll do yard work which is a lot like my Dad!

My Dad worked for the City and County. He’d dropped out of a Civil Engineering Program because my Mom had me and they had very little money and mice in the housing provided near campus via the GI bill. That was a contention. As was my ever being born. I had colic and my father always said that he was going to leave me screaming in the snow. Mom said that once I could imitate opera voices on the radio at about 4-months of age, I stopped screaming.

(I have said to my son ad nauseum, “You didn’t ask to be born. I will make sure that you have medical and dental care until you’re 26. I will also write a check for any tuition bill that you produce for me.” He has about 7k left in his ESA, so I’m going to set up a trust for 150k that I manage until he’s 30. I’m doing that in June. Trust me, this digression is topical.)

My Mom wanted kids. She said that my brother and I were the best things in her life.

She was sarcastic, a little mean, definitely depressed, and not quick with hugs or kisses, but always said, “I love you.” And she did love us.

We had no money. I really mean that too. My parents, both Boomers, were the last of the people who can buy a house on one salary. My Mom contributed off and on to living expenses, but never had a full-time teaching job likely because of her physical disability. She subbed for 4-5 years and would often come home with a migraine.

Today, I’m thinking about my Mom, the status of her teeth, her heavy smoking until she was in her 60s, and how much healthier and luckier than I am when compared to my Mom.

I was out in the backyard this morning giving my neighbor’s dogs and mine pieces of elk jerky, and my neighbor came out and asked about the hole. So, I have this screw and hole in my mouth right now. My neighbor will get her hole and screw in two-weeks.

We’ve been trying to figure out how her process is so much longer than mine. Her tooth broke eight-months ago. We figured it out today.

My Mom made sure that we went to the dentist every 6-months. She made sure that the weird tooth that came in sideways was addressed with a retainer. I have great teeth. So, it was easy for the dentist to drill it, pack it, help me make an appointment with a talented specialist, and I will see him five-days before I get a tooth colored crown. My parents were poor for sure–lower middle class, I guess–but we got good dental care.

My Mom didn’t support me going to graduate school. My Mom was mostly horrified about what others thought of her having a lesbian daughter. My Mom’s ashes that I have left could ignite given that I don’t want one partner and would never live with anyone ever again. However, my Mom loved and took care of me.

Tell me about your Mom. I don’t know you, so don’t worry, I am not impersonating Freud. Freud is mostly only good for defense mechanisms.

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Family: Chosen and Otherwise

My Aunt was here nine-days and not a week. She was with her daughter for two nights, but otherwise with me. We had a good time and just one little conflict.

I worked 8-7 on Friday and was basically chained to my home office desk in Zoom. That software is useful, but is being used for something that it wasn’t designed to do now. I had seen it in 2015 as a pop-up meeting application and now classes are held on it. I mostly refuse. However, at one university I have students in AK, FL, IL, WA, and other states. I have to run a supervision time with them on Zoom because of geography–it’s only two-hours with a 15-20 minute break. However, on the days that I’m on it for speaking mostly and posing questions, I get weird. I was weird Friday night, because I’d been in evaluation meetings via Zoom all day and then led supervision afterward.

I got up Saturday, did my slow leisurely coffee, and then when I got back my Aunt texted that she was really close. I realized that my house would just be dirty and messy when she got here and she’d have to deal with it because she’d chosen to come early. When she got here, I found out that she was staying through Monday. However, she’s a link to my Mom. My Mom has been gone two-years yesterday. And my Aunt sees me. All of me. She’s super religious in a rigid way wherein everything is tied back to God’s plan so grief isn’t a thing and neither is much of anything else; however, she doesn’t care at all that I was married to a woman for 8-years. She adored my ex-wife. She knew me when I looked like a boy too, so she accepts me. She’s only 20-years older than I am.

Wednesday, we had Thanksgiving with her, my son, eventually my son’s girlfriend–she had another accident so was late here–and Rower and her son. Rower has been my friend for 12-years and is a phenomenal athlete. She is going through a breakup right now, and the writing of which had been on the wall for months, so she was sad and didn’t eat. I just love her son now. He went through an entitled stage and now is a joy. I’m going to find something for the four of us to do together when he turns 15 in two weeks. My neighbors, who are my family now, came over and taught us Just One and we ate spiced pumpkin cheesecake and a cherry pie with a lattice top. (Don’t ever buy pie filling. Spring for $17 of water packed cherries and make it yourself with real almond extract.)

The sage looks a little unsettling under the skin

I picked up tamales from my friend who is broke. She earned money for her rent by making 50 dozen for the holiday. I made pintos with red chili and Mexican rice with ground green chili to accompany them. So, we ate well for a couple of days.

I did a lot of cleaning and laundry. My Aunt was watching me fold towels one morning and said, “You need a wife.” I said, “There will never be another wife.” It gave me pause. My mother never would have said that to me. When she was so angry with me one time, probably around 2009 or so, she said, “It’s different when you have gay people in your own family!” My aunt sees the whole me and loves me. My sexuality doesn’t matter to her at all.

The nice guy and Batman and I commuted yesterday. It was ok. I’m sometimes really troubled by how stoned the former is all the time. I don’t know a ton about marijuana, but I have heard that it stunts your progress in the cognitive realm. He seems really young to me a lot of the time. I am ten-years-older than he is, but I do think that taking edibles all day makes you seem kinda simple. Batman was scheduled to the max last night and is tonight too. I’ll see them both on Monday.

My brother would have been 40 on Monday. It’s strange and sad. I definitely think about him almost everyday.

I have a discussion group on Monday night. I’m really looking forward to it. I hope that I get to see the author too. She is slowly losing her mother, and I’d love to connect with her. I will write again on Tuesday.

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Feeling really good

My son’s best friend since probably about 4th grade was here last night. I was so peopled out that I had to escape: wash my car, find the cat litter that is difficult to find, get some vegetables, etc. because I didn’t want to catch up with his Mom for an hour or sometimes more. She had her daughter at 17, and so she’s much younger than I am. We don’t have a thing in common. Actually, now that I think about it, she’s probably the same age as the climber. I didn’t want to talk though because I talked with people all week. Originally, my son’s best friend was going to come and go. I thought that he was driving and he is licensed; although my own son is three-months older than he is, but his Mom didn’t want him driving so far. His family moved counties when my son was in 6th grade and he’s known him since 1st. They were laughing and my son was showing him the guitar that I rented for my son and they were having a great time. Hearing my son laugh was so great. I can make him laugh a little, but he’s not generous with laughter. I know it’s part of the depression that he deals with as well. His best friend stayed the night. I made southern chicken sandwiches, sweet potato fries and a monstrous salad. I left it out and will eat it tonight before dodgeball.

I also got three rounds of rapid eye movement. I can remember three rounds of dreams. I feel so, so good. It also was nice on Friday night to get hit on. And not by a man! By a super young, blond, blue-eyed, very feminine, ex-Rugby player with a slight southern accent. Fun. I actually looked terrible Friday night and didn’t have on one bit of makeup. I also never would have approached her to talk, because I was just chillin’ in the gay bar, which is something that I like to do. I’ve known the owner for 15-years and talked to her as well. It’s where I prowl with my friend.

Speaking of which, I need to work through more modules to update one of my trainings. It’s probably 5-10 hours of content. I’m motivated to do it though because the particular training is such a good one. These other two workshops can be a little dry. I need to really get familiar with the content so I can bring my charm. I can’t dance. However, I would say that I’m one of the best public speakers period. My partner-in-prowl has done these workshops probably more than I have. I’ve probably given about 3-6 times via the one that I’ve been endorsed in for the last 8-years, and have given close to 20 in the one that I like. During convention, I got a new one and am a virgin for it. It’s actually called “Provisional.” We should look for places to train in which there is hiking and pretty women.

That’s it! I just feel so good and hopeful. I know that I’m going to meet lots of new women.

I was surprised not to meet any at the convention, but the one night that a vendor had drinks and food was the one in which our old friend had chosen for a dinner out. It’s ok, she lives in CA now where she was born and without her I’d never have met my best friend. I also was intrigued by the best flatiron steak I’ve ever had. I have a couple, so I’m going to read a bunch of tips before I cook it. I make good steak, but this one was like butter. I need to look up some tips before I make my own. I just thought that the convention would be a good place to meet women, but it was more a time for reconnecting with students whom I’ve taught.

I took a 10-mile bike ride yesterday because it was 63-degrees. There is still a lot of ice on trails, but my bike to work route is nearly clear. I can do it in rush hour and will do it Tuesday through Thursday. I feel like I want to bike 30-miles a week to make up for all the commuting that I missed from snow-poc-alypse. I love cycling and tooling around on my bike.

I don’t work Friday or Monday. Friday I’ll have to deal with my parent’s estate and we do have family therapy. I want to talk about goals and rewards for doing work and connecting with teachers rather than leaving campus at lunch and getting high in the parking lot. I texted his godparents to help me. I didn’t want to be a downer during our climbing class in January, so they didn’t know that he dropped out. I wish my son’s Dad was a little more inspiring for my son. It was odd, but my son said last week, “I’d never marry a woman like you. It would be like marrying myself and I would be so angry all the time.” It’s odd because I don’t think that we’re similar. I’m super active and hardworking. I’m not sure what he meant. I’m going to ask what he meant in family therapy. As I was finishing this entry, his godparents were texting me back and they’re going to support me and him. I’m a lucky person.

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Reflections

I like my cousin’s fiancé. Sure he makes fun of people, has lots of tools, and guns, but he loves her, and they’re actually good together. Before I was with the CEO, she had been dating him around a year, I think. She is what you might call a serial monogamist, which I guess is ok to say because “Ally McBeal” was a bunch of straight girls in NY, right? After 10 or 11 years, why not get married, right?

I’m not. I just read about when my best friend from work was here and we were climbing mountains and partying hard. She was dancing with this one girl at our club, and the girl’s best friend started dancing with me and then she kissed me. Well, if you kiss me, for some reason, I want to get more aggressive. I had pushed her up against a cattle tank full of beers eventually. We went on a legitimate date a few weeks later. After sushi and a long walk, I went to where she was parked and leaned in and she said, “We’ll have plenty of other chances.” I never kissed her again. Hmm…

I think I’m back in that cattle tank stage. My problem has been that I don’t say no to exclusive. Nancy Reagan would have a stern talkin’ to me. I can come out here as someone who says, “No.”

People, especially those who I have known who are genetically women, are super complex. I want to get to know lots of people on individual dates. It sucks a little to be introverted, because I really struggle with anxiety in groups. I get quiet, and then recently one of my Bosses called me “exclusive.” Or I crack lots of jokes due to tension. I am very funny, so that is probably ok, but if it’s noisy I can’t do that, and then I’m too direct due to discomfort.

Therefore, lots of different women in 1-1 settings.

No swiping. Do Gen X-ers like to swipe? Also, because I only select women-seeking-women, I’ll see women who I know. Small pond. Also, I find it distasteful for some reason to swipe a person away based on something static like a picture. Case in point is that my ex-wife is a real redhead and has blond eyebrows so some pictures are not great due to lighting. She is one of the most striking women in person that people have ever seen. I can’t count the number of people who have said, “She is so beautiful.” Really. Truly. Additionally, it’s fake like social media is. I have maybe taken three pictures of my son being an asshole or raging, but I haven’t posted them! I’ve sent them to a few people. Are folks with profiles on dating sites going to post themselves half a bottle of vodka into Thanksgiving? Not likely. Not probable. Finally, my experiences on Chemistry and OK, Cupid yielded the cowgirl (two weekends–lesbian one night stand) and the flute player (gamey / hot and cold). When I say that to friends, they say, “Sure that was before 2010! It’s changed so much.” I’m not arguing, but I have three reasons for my hard pass.

I’m going bowling this afternoon. I am going to beat one of my Bosses. He beat me at pool about two-weeks ago, so I need to beat him. If I can’t we’re going to the bar very soon and I will beat him at 301. His ex-girlfriend and her boyfriend are bowling with us. I have to put my road bike in the back of my SUV now, and go over to the place that rebuilt my engine brackets. My oil light is coming on and it’s also idling like shit sometimes in the cold because the box over the catalytic converter is shaking to hell. The alley is close, so I can combo walk / bike there.

I met my goal. This week mostly off from work was neither sad or trying. I expressed emotion, connected so much with my cousin and her kids, and went out to dinner for diner food with my son last night. Now, bring on the cattle tanks.

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Poor Life Choices

I’m facing the postscript music of too many beers and a large shot of Patron Silver this morning. Danced and sang. There was one really pretty girl in the bar who seemed to be having a first date that was going well. My friend did a duet with a really tall dark haired pretty girl which was fun to watch, and that girl took my friend’s number but lives elsewhere and is going through a divorce.

Something that I find cool about karaoke in general is that folks who are not striking have the most captivating voices. Every night you go, there is true talent. I bought a girl a shot. She was AMAZING. I just drank too much and feel like shit today. No drinks for T Day and none for a week to give my body a break. I usually crack a beer when I cook, but can’t stomach that idea at all.

I just have to bring beer and make brussels sprouts for my cousin’s shindig today, so it’s a low lift for me. Last year was my Mom’s last holiday. I did my usual cook up a storm for the family and brought food to the receptionist at the Nursing Home. I also made a big plate for the driver for my Mom from the Nursing Home to my house. Life had a rhythm that has changed since my parents died. Last Thanksgiving we sang, played piano, guitar and drummed and my Mom was lucid and happy. There are lots of pictures. I’ve sent the picture of her sister, her in her wheelchair with me and my son to lots of people. I’m glad that my ex wife had discharged from a crisis unit the day before Thanksgiving last year and took that shot and many other pictures. My Mom died at 2 am six-days after Thanksgiving.

Last night, the bar owner belted “The Story,” which was apropos because my son and I had just listened to “Bear Creek” on Tuesday together. I played a few other songs too. I just realized why I got so sullen listening to “The Eye” by Brandi Carlile. It’s because my ex wife was just a year ago completely suicidal and barely discharged for Thanksgiving. Terrifying. I miss things for sure, but not much over the last three years. I can look at pictures of us now wherein we’d always place our heads together in the same position for a pic at a trailhead, on a mountain, on a beach, in a forest, park or in some urban setting outside walking around. I can look at those easily. We had some really good times. Caring for someone with significant mental illness is so trying and drowns out those other good memories if you don’t explore them. Like the picture of my Mom last Thanksgiving, I’m glad that I have pictures of my ex-wife and I enjoying life in moments in time outdoors.

Even with lots of water last night and early morning, I am really dehydrated. I’m almost done with my coffee and nowhere near my normal pee quota. On Mondays, because we’re squished right now at work while a program relocates next fall, I have to interrupt other people working, teaching, presenting, and meeting because I have to pee out coffee and cross over other rooms to get to the bathroom. Sucks. Right now, I am obviously just absorbing the liquid. Time to shower, do a full body weights routine and drink as many glasses of whey that I can. Later, I’ll nest a couple of eggs and oven two Trader Joe’s hash browns, and if that doesn’t cure the hangover, I hope turkey and fixings does.

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Time to unwind

Work was just slightly weird today.  I had too many meetings, I think.  I was exhausted by the time that I left and then I had to come home, switch over laundry, help my dog stretch her legs, pack up tons of food and head to my parents house.

While I was cooking, I needed oil and vinegar.   That was it.  You’d have thought that I was ruining their lives.  My mother also stared at me while I cooked, and was wiping the counters around me.  That combined with the fact that my Dad was upset that I didn’t bring over take out put me over the edge.  That’s the way that I grew up.  They were always in my ass and it never ceased and nothing that I could do was right and they had to monitor and “show” me what I was doing wrong.  I’m going to have to figure out something else to do with my son on November 11th.  He can’t be around that, and frankly, if I hadn’t had a beer while I cooked and my Dad was saying that he couldn’t play with my son because too much was going on–meaning my dog smelled him a couple of times and he had to get the olive oil for me–I couldn’t have either.

It was a difficult 45-minutes of cooking, but the food was good.  My Dad commenced to eat nearly all the food as soon as I put it all out.  We had sockeye salmon with tarragon and balsamic vinegar, a nice salad, the best brussels sprouts in the world, and saffron basmati.  I asked him if he’d eaten today and he said he had oatmeal and four prunes.  When you’re Bipolar and your blood sugar drops, you are a real treat.  It’s amazing at 73 that he doesn’t manage his calories better.

I hugged my son and I left.  Poor guy.  I’m glad that tomorrow is his last day off from school.

I ran about 2.25-miles on the treadmill and felt soooo much better.  Then I walked my dog around the lake at night to do an outdoor night warm down.  I dropped off some materials at a colleague’s house and talked to my best friend from graduate school.  Her cancer may be back, and her best friend there has stage 4 colon cancer.  Now, those are real problems.  Mine with parents is just sad.  They feel better when they can tell me what I do wrong.  I’m just fine.

I do miss my girlfriend.  She has been out of contact due to family stress, and she has her little boys this evening.  It’s ok, but I really, really hope that I get to see her again.  I miss having her arms around me and looking into those perfect hazel eyes.  I’m turning in.  I hope that she contacts me tomorrow.  I want to connect with her and don’t know how she is doing really.