The Basket Of Lost Causes

I have a basket by my favorite chair. Things get tossed in there and I forget they're in there.

It's like The Bermuda Triangle. Let's peek at what's in the Pit Of Procrastination!

I haven't done any scrapbooking in over a year.

I didn't buy anything from L.L.Bean last Christmas and I don't have a Dream Home to design.

I live in Florida. Am I planning to wear mittens? Or go on a Northern Winter Vacation?

Speaking of vacation, I spent 3 days researching Caribbean vacations...in September...during Hurricane Season. Vacation has been cancelled because CAPE COD KID IS MOVING TO FLORIDA!

2011 Christmas Letter was never written.

Why is the September Vogue in the bottom of the basket? OHHHH, that was September of LAST YEAR!
I must have despaired of ever making it through the entire issue. There are still 3 days left in August. I could DO IT!

I put it back in the Basket Of Lost Causes. On top.

This Ordinary Mind Is Broken

There is a song called Rain by an artist called Mika. I think it's really a break-up kind of song, but it really speaks more to me about how much I don't even recognize myself and I feel like I am broken. Not by any specific person, but by Life. These are some of the lyrics...

Is it really necessary
Every single day
You're making me more ordinary
In every single way
This ordinary mind is broken
You did it and you don't even know
You're leaving me with words unspoken
You better get back 'cause I'm ready for
More than this
Whatever it is
Baby I hate days like this
Caught in a trap
I can't look back
Baby I hate days like this

The past 3 months have been pretty hellish. Mr Sunshine State was so sick that I thought I was going to lose him forever. He was simply not himself for about 6 weeks. My marriage is my house and he is my foundation. When he is not solid, there is nothing else to hold me up. Every time in my life that I have crashed and burned, he has been there to rescue me.

Then I broke my face, then my Mom was ill, then I was diagnosed with diabetes, and Tigger is most likely in the last weekend of his life. My aunt's health has continued to deteriorate. Through all of this, work has been a complete and total shit show.

My boss and I are as about as different as 2 people can be and I can no longer be the person he expects me to be at work. I was going to take some time, while I was on vacation in September to decide if I wanted to start job-hunting. I could speculate on how he found out, but yesterday I was confronted with the proof that he knew.

He and his boss have suggested that it is probably best that I step down from my current position.
I would love to stay there and go back to my former job and that situation was offered. Since it probably means a big cut in pay and hours, it might not work for me.

I wasn't ready to make this decision yet. I needed more time.
My spirit has been so broken for the last 3 months, that I needed to think it through when there was no other crisis in my life.

Aside from the fact that it felt like I had been whacked with a 2x4, Today I am breathing a little easier. I had no desire to spend the next 5 months in a stressful job.

Mr Sunshine State has a plan. In September, he's going to take me someplace where I can recharge and relax. I'll pick up all the broken pieces of myself and try to put myself back together.

Mend My Broken Face With Sad Literature

Last week I showed you the hideous photo of my broken face. I wasn't told that when you have that much blood in your forehead and nose, it eventually has to go SOMEWHERE!

SOMEWHERE was into 2 large, puffy bags under my eyes! I took this picture last Friday, then it got worse over the weekend.
Normally, I would have treated my broken face with a 5Lb bag of Peanut Crack&M's, but now there is a diabetic living in my house. I tried to substitute a bag of pretzels, but it just isn't the same.

I still haven't gone back to work. I get a little bit lightheaded when I stand up for too long.
I spent 2 days in bed and decided to do some reading (even though glasses perched on my broken nose? OUCH).

What would YOU read to match the misery of a broken face? I read A Farewell To Arms by Hemingway and now I'm into Angela's Ashes. They make my broken face seem a little less of a tragedy.

I am also knitting myself a bubble suit for when I venture back out into public.
And I'm going to burn all my evil flip-flops.

De-stressing In The Land Of Facebook and iPod

Last week, my job was so stressful that it was chewing me up and spitting me out. By Friday night I was physically sick for 4 hours, lost 4 pounds and then slept for 11 hours.

I woke up Saturday morning with a whole new attitude. My new Work Mantra is Show Up-Perform Tasks-Get Check. I am removing myself from all the drama.

Since I had the weekend off, I decided to focus on the things that are making me REALLY happy these days.

I made a big pot of meatballs and sauce and called Sorority Girl to come and spend the weekend. While she was here she painted my toenails, introduced me to The Real Housewives Of New Jersey (no comment) and we played with my new toy.

Mr Sunshine State got me an iPod! My FIRST iPod! A GREEN iPod!!!
Now my new green iPod has about 700 songs on it.

I did something I SWORE I would never do.

I found a friend or two from high school and one childhood buddy, two from my last Cape Cod job, 20 cousins and all my siblings. We started planning my Mom's 75th birthday party that will be later this summer.

I'm trying not to get addicted and I'm not invading my kid's, niece's and nephew's privacy.

I thoroughly enjoyed doing laundry. Our dryer has been on the fritz for months and last week it finally exploded and the motor died. I prayed to Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the little saints and it worked.

Mr SS found a dryer on Craigslist for $75. We picked it up last Thursday and I can almost see the laundry room floor this morning.

My weekend also included some happiness that involved baking a Blueberry Sour Cream Coffee Cake, steamed edamame sprinkled with Kosher salt and a bottle of Amaretto.

Back to work tonight. Breathe. Just Breathe.

Overheard: The Rest Of The Story

Back in April I used a One Minute Writer prompt of "Overheard" and wrote the following piece. A few people thought I should finish it.

I'm sitting outside my bedroom door, wiping the tears off my cheeks and breathing very quietly. I'm supposed to be in my bedroom, being punished for yet another temper tantrum.

My mother is on the phone with my father's friend. He's a psychiatrist.She asks, without anger in her voice, "What are we going to do with her?"

My high-strung personality began at birth. An insomniac from Day 1, I never slept for any length of time. My Mom called them my cat-naps. My Dad said he watched Johnny Carson with me in his arms every night. I had many temper tantrums. When I was a grown-up and my grandparents and aunts were in their 80's and 90's, they could still recall what a difficult child I had been.

At the time my mother made that phone call, she was probably at her wit's end with me. This was my earliest memory (it came out during a particularly emotional session of psychotherapy). I was probably 3 or 4 at the time and my Mom had 2 more babies after me. She had spent a year raising us alone when my Dad was called to active duty during the Berlin Crisis.

We lived on the 2nd floor of a two-story tenement in the city. Our landlord and his wife lived on the first floor. The wife had threatened to evict my family if they couldn't control my tantrums. Until I started school, I have no memories of what provoked the temper tantrums. My Mom was overwhelmed.

When I was 5, I was enrolled in the Catholic School. Mother Mary Angelique was not amused by my temper tantrums. She had various ways of dealing with them. She always had the class split into GIRLS-GIRLS-GIRLS-Empty Row-BOYS-BOYS-BOYS. Each gender-specific side of the class had 1 or 2 empty seats for the Misbehavers Of The Opposite Sex. I spent a lot of time in an empty seat in the BOYS section, where the meanest of them would poke me and pull my hair. This would cause my temper to flare even higher , scream even louder and guarantee me another day in exile in the BOYS section.

I spent quite a few afternoons with my desk in the coat closet. Mother Mary Angelique was also a firm believer in a swat to the hand with a ruler and a flick of her index finger, right above my ear.
I don't remember ever telling my mother about what went on at school. I figured I deserved it for crying and screaming.

My Mother remembers that after my first year in school, my temper tantrums nearly went away and I was much calmer.

On the outside.

Overheard: One Minute Writer

I found a new blog today. It is called The One Minute Writer .
She gives you a prompt, you push the timer and write for one minute.
Today's prompt was....

OVERHEARD

I'm sitting outside my bedroom door, wiping the tears off my cheeks and breathing very quietly. I'm supposed to be in my bedroom, being punished for yet another temper tantrum.

My mother is on the phone with my father's friend. He's a psychiatrist.
She asks, without anger in her voice, "What are we going to do with her?"

An Ups and Downs Kind Of Week

It's been a week of ups and downs here.

The barometric pressure has been up and down. My joints have been swelling with the changes. Do you remember hearing old people talk about how they could tell what the weather was going to do based on how much their arthritis hurt? Now I AM one of those old people who says "there must be a storm coming, my knees hurt".

We had a hard time coming up with the last of Sorority Girl's Spring tuition. With another loan from Bank Of Grandma we made it. On the upside, we did her tax return and she'll get a refund large enough to pay for Fall Semester books.
She came to spend the night Thursday to make me laugh and smile. It worked.

I had been trying to take my Very Important Medication every other day, to avoid refilling my prescription. HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE idea.
I was sleeping way too much (from midnight to 4PM the next day) and dreaming all kinds of weird stuff. They weren't nightmares, just very vivid images and crazy events. Chalk that up as one stupid experiment.

I read a couple of books that I was looking forward to and they both disappointed me. On the upside, I'm almost done with the Super Secret Scrapbook Project.

Sunday is looking like it might be an UP kind of day.
Winery! Festival! Blues! Art!
And Another trip to Showcase Of Citrus.

YULE LOG: Crazy With A Side Of Criminal Activity

YULE LOG: 12/22/08 2:00pm Little Miss Sunshine State leaves work early because Cape Cod Kid is ARRIVING! On a plane! From Boston! At 7pm!
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 3:00pm Little Miss Sunshine State finds out the plane from Boston will not be LEAVING Boston much before 9pm.
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 4:00pm Little Miss Sunshine State goes shopping and can't find her Visa Check Card, says "Hmm, I had it yesterday. I'll write a check".
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 8:00pm Little Miss Sunshine State gets a phone call from her bank asking if she had made or authorized a flurry of large purchases to the tune of $600. All at WMart and CVS.
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 8:05pm Little Miss Sunshine State has a major anxiety attack. She is instructed to go to the bank at the asscrack of dawn to file a fraud claim. She is told the money will be refunded to her checking account....in about 2 weeks.
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 8:12pm Little Miss Sunshine State dissolves into a puddle of tears that continues through folding 6 loads of laundry and a phone call from her Mommy.
YULE LOG: 12/22/08 11:45pm Little Miss Sunshine State goes to the airport with Mr Sunshine and Sorority Girl. On the escalator, about 20 steps above us, is a girl showing at least 4 inches of an ASSCRACK and she is OBVIOUSLY going COMMANDO. Little Miss Sunshine State cracks the hell up and says, out loud "WHY did I not bring my camera?????!!!!!!"
YULE LOG: 12/23/08 12:45 am Little Miss Sunshine State spots Cape Cod Kid across the MILES of almost-empty airport and all is right with her world again.

Medicates Herself With Food

I'm a "High Anxiety Eater". If I'm depressed I can go days without food or water. If you ever see me stuffing my face every 6 minutes, you know I'm working on some issues.

I'll tell you what I have eaten in the last 24 hours and see if you can guess how I'm feeling.

1. 2 Eggo waffles with butter
2. 4 cups of coffee
3. A PBJ sandwich
   
4. A handful of Cheetos (sorry Tom, they were calling my name and whispering that you would approve)
5. 2 Diet Pepsi
6. A couple of hunks of ColbyJack cheese and a handful of pretzels
7. A bowl of Chicken Pot Pie
8. 3 brownies (the kind where you toss spoonfuls of chocolate chip cookie dough on top of the brownie batter before you bake it)
9. A bowl of Cheerios and milk
   

I had fun at my first night at the second job. We played with product. We sugar scrubbed our dry hands, gave each other hand massages, watched training videos with annoying actresses and came home with a purse full of free samples.

I was offered a promotion that consists of more responsibility without benefits, except insuring that I'd still be there after the holidays.
I'm all out of Lyrica . It has become my Fibro Miracle Drug. But damn, it's expensive and not in the budget this week.
I'm in week 5 of broken toe. It's getting better, but my patience is wearing thin. I can put on shoes, but I can only wear them for 10 minutes.
I need to have my Thyroid blood work done. Did you know that 3 thyroid tests costs $178?

Medicating myself with food. And listening to this little song