Posts Tagged 'story'

this is what you’ve been missing

the picky eater vs the foodie

The keeping room

I am *that* mom

missed the turn, he did

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the asshole inside my head

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a breakout? one day.

I have these moments every so often…if you’ve been reading for a few months, I’m sure you’re used to them by now.

If you’re new, don’t worry. It almost comes out like a pep talk or something?

Blame it on the rain and the gray skies…

Except this time, my little ramblings are coming with a pseudo-question.

Tim and I have had a conversation about who we’re supposed to become probably a million times. Yes, I’m serious. It happens almost daily.

And it always ends the same way. A way that I’ve mentioned before: I feel like I’m meant to be someone. Not just like, Teacher of the Year or anything. I mean, Teacher of the Year is awesome but first, I’m not a teacher and second, what I’m talking about is on a much grander scale…a “someone” who will affect lives across the globe and not just in a single city or town or state.

Something keeps pulling at me, tugging in the dark recesses of my brain…it’s like *that* person is trapped inside and is desperately trying to find a way out. I used to be afraid to talk about this. I was ashamed and felt others would look at me and roll their eyes all, “pipe dreams, little girl. Pipe dreams.”

But it’s not.

I know it.

DAMMIT!

It’s more than just thinking it’s your mother’s voice in the back of your head saying, “You can be anything you want to be…” It’s like an insatiable desire…a wanting that will not be quashed until I become this person, this someone.

It’s completely frustrating when you see it…you want it so badly…and it just ISN’T HAPPENING YET.

Tim is convinced it is centered around writing…my book…and I am inclined to agree. I’ve always been able to paint a picture and get my point across through writing more so than any other form of communication. Truth be told, I’d much rather that “talent” be through singing, but whatever. I’ll take it.

The book I’m writing…yes, I’m being all secretive and hush-hush…but it’s not because I’m being mean on purpose…it’s because it is developing and changing and morphing on a daily basis. Each day I write, something new pops out that I hadn’t even thought about before that moment.

That’s how it works. It just flows. I don’t struggle with ideas and pull my hair out for a plot line…it just comes out. Whether that’s good or bad..well, only time will tell, I suppose.

My pseudo-question? Yes, I think it’s about time for that. I’m done rambling.

Do you – or did you – feel that way? Is there  something you just knew you were supposed to do?

And what are you doing about it?

So, that was like, three questions…but it’s only the last one that matters.

To me, anyway.

Every day I try to find that damn key to unlock the door. I still haven’t found it but I won’t give up, because I’m a self-proclaimed stubborn asshole.

the chairman

Remember all my AT&T fun (this, this and this) ?  The letters…the “we know we messed up, but it’s still your fault” …the hours on the phone….the customer we-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about-service…

Well, to top it all off, I had to go through the process of SHIPPING BACK THE LOANER PHONE that was anything but functional.  It kept getting emails for someone named “dhill”…that dropped calls…that didn’t connect to the internet….

When I received this wonderfully crafted piece of shit, I was also given an address and a name to whom I was supposed to send the phone BACK to after we received our iPhones.  Just more time out of ANOTHER DAY to relinquish to AT&T.

Tim was all, “WE ARE NOT PAYING TO SHIP THAT DAMN PHONE BACK.  YOU TELL THEM.  WE AREN’T PAYING ONE CENT TOWARDS THAT SHIPMENT!”

Sure, honey.  I’ve already ripped AT&T a new one…twice over and through ten different departments…but I’ll throw that in for good measure.  JUST so they know we’re serious.

I was supposed to ship said shit-phone back the SAME DAY we received our iPhones.

Yeah…didn’t happen.  I got around to the dreadful chore about a week later.

They were in no rush to get us our phones.

And I’m an eye-for-an-eye kind of girl.

And so the day comes where I finally have enough I’m-not-that-kind-of-person guilt hanging over me that I pack it all up for shipping.

But, of course, the shipping cannot be a simple, no brainer.

Blame it on my lack of attention to detail or thinking and processing information before speaking or learning a lesson from a previous conversational disaster.

I had the package all ready to go and wrote the return address is HUGE BLACK LETTERS on the side of the box:

Me: “Honey! My phones getting sent to the chairman!  Chairman Ansley!  Wow!  I wonder if I TOOK THE CHAIRMAN’S PHONE?!?

Tim: “What?  What are you talking about?  Why did you write the address on like that?  They don’t need that.”

Me: “Just in case they don’t SEE the packing slip.”

Tim: But, they’re trained to LOOK AT THE PACKING SLIP.  THEY’LL SEE IT.”

Me: “Well….I did it anyway….HEY!  GUESS WHAT?!”

Tim: “….?”

Me: “This is getting mailed to the CHAIRMAN!  I think I got the CHAIRMAN’S PHONE!”

Tim looks over at me, then at the address on the box, as if to verify my wild claim.  Because first of all…what chairman has a girly, red phone that looks like its been run through a garbage disposal and then slammed against a hard surface on multiple occasions?

Tim: “Um…Sweetheart…that says CharMAINE…”

Me:” What?!  Noooo!  That’s Chairman.  Chairman Ansley!”

Tim: “No…try again.”

Tim learned early…it takes my brain a minute to connect…so he waits for my little light bulb to flicker on.

Me: “Ohhhhh…..oops…. really?  It’s spelled like that?”

Tim just shook his head, started laughing, then walked over and enveloped me in a “its ok, I know you’re a little slow, but I still love you” hug.

the sacrifice

Remember how I said Tim and I used to go camping a lot? 

Well, with camping comes mischief.

Because there is only so much to do with a tent and fire that doesn’t result in Smoky the Bear chasing you from the forest with his big, hunter green hat.

And we’re not afraid of utilizing our surroundings to create our own fun.

Once, when we came back from a hike, we found a mean note from the “camp patrol” tucked under our lantern on the picnic table. See, we wrote on the metal fire pit ring with tips of burned sticks.  Apparently hearts and letters are not acceptable as part of the outdoor decor.  I mean, it WASHES OFF.  Geez.  So, in retaliation, we made a little “Welcome Home” type sign on a piece of bark and set it out right under our campsite number.  JUST SO EVERYONE KNEW WHO LIVED THERE. FOR THE WEEKEND.

The morning we left, Tim climbed the tree on our site and stuck the sign as high as he could, wedged between branches.  And yes, the “J” is backwards on purpose.  Tim was trying to be cute once during a date night and started drawing a “T&J” with his fork on an empty dessert plate with leftover sauce.  However, he was drawing upside down…so the “J” ended up backwards.  I looked at him all, ” You know that’s backwards, right?”  And he was all, “NO IT’S NOT!”  He turned the plate around…sure enough.  Backwards.  It stuck.

T&J Sign

 

On a different camping trip, we had a moment of creative genius and decided to create Twinkie the Kid.  Along with his trusted Steed, Cupcake.

The creation

Twinkie & Cupcake

 

Who were both then sacrificed to the camping gods that evening.

the sacrifice

 

And…the scary part…Twinkie Twinkie Firenever…burned.  He just blackened.

Blackened Twinkie

shoe shopping

Shopping for any kind of shoe – except running shoes and maybe flip flops – is a laborious and depressing task.  I always come home frustrated and disappointed.  Though I was graced with height… and I do love my height…that height must be balanced somehow.  That somehow is big feet.  VERY big feet.  Size 11 big feet.  The size that only ugly, plain shoes are made for.  I don’t even bother GLANCING at the pretty shoes anymore.  If there is more than one color or strap on a shoe, it’s not in my size.  I’ve been let down one too many times by a salesperson saying “Sorry, we don’t have that in YOUR size” or “They don’t make them THAT big.”  I used to try and squeeze my foot into a smaller shoe, just to be able to wear what was hip and in style.  Eventually, I gave into my biology and just bought the plain shoes.  I don’t even call it shoe shopping.  I call it shoe looking.  Actually, more like a crazed manhunt to find a store that has more than one pair of shoes that will fit my gargantuan feet so I can at least COMPARE two styles. Doesn’t seem like too much to ask for…

One particular Saturday while I was out looking for shoes, for I had worn a hole in my current pair, a department store employee told me that they have a “special” section for people with my problem rare size.  When she told me that I got all excited.  Maybe it’s like the place they let celebrities go.  I’ll drink a little bubbly while I leisurely try on pair after pair of beautiful shoes and admire my abnormally large foot in full length, three-way mirrors…just like the foursome does on Sex and the City.  I’ll walk out, swinging my bag in one hand, looking fabulous, turning heads with every step. 

Turns out that “special” place is a cramped, dusty corner in the storeroom.  They don’t even bother with carpet or a chair to actually sit and try on the shoes.  Each time I put on a shoe I had to preform a balancing act, grasping for the wall so I didn’t put my foot on the dirty concrete floor.  So much for that little fantasy.

Tim and I were on our way back from dinner tonight and a contest comes on the radio.  A store is giving away at an amazing opportunity!  I’m not really listening until I hear, “Thirty seconds to grab as many pairs of shoes as you can!”  I just looked at Tim and said “That would be one of the worst things for me to win.  Ever.  I wouldn’t even need the 30 seconds.”

closets… how full are yours?

Tim and I watched a TV show last night about the top things to do if you’re trying to sell your house.  The sale of ours in not imminent… we’ve been trying to move for about…. 3 years now and with the market (housing, stock, etc, etc, etc) the way it is it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere fast.  BUT we figured we could start doing small things here and there so when “the day” finally came we wouldn’t have ten million little things to do which would result in one big mess.

We started with the closets today – my idea, albeit a bad one (hindsight is 20/20).  They have so much random stuff…Christmas decorations, college binders with who knows what in them, pictures, old sports jerseys from my basketball days, pillows, Easter baskets….  Don’t know what to do with it?  Throw it in the closet!  That’s how it seems to go in this house.  Unfortunately, it has gotten to the point where the closet is no longer a viable option… and the hosts on the TV show said that “your closets should be organized and not packed so prospective home buyers will not think the house is too small, which requires you to store everything in the closet.”  Personally, I think it should be a good thing to have a packed closet.  The prospective buyer should say “Wow!  Look how much stuff they crammed in there!  That means we’ll have plenty of room for our punching bag we’ve never used or our set of luggage we don’t need or all my (fill in significant other here) crap he/she never uses but insists on having!”  I don’t care who you are, you have a closet full of stuff you haven’t seen in years and probably forgot you had.  Why try to bamboozle a home buyer?  “No!  We don’t even USE our closets!  We’ve got so much extra space around the house that we don’t need them.  Purely for decoration.  Aren’t yours?”

Right.

Tim and I just spent the afternoon trying to make space in the attic for the crap in the closets.  We only managed to completely clear out the floor of one (out of four and we haven’t even thought about downstairs yet…).  The rest are still just as full… and the attic even more so.  We don’t have a basement.  If we did, our problem would be solved.  Everything could go down there.  The TV show didn’t mention anything about basements.  I think those get a pass.  The real estate agent probably quickly mentions “a basement” and all is understood.  The basement – aka the great void.  That’s kind of like our closets.  Our void is just distributed over more surface area.

Lesson learned: pick something you can SEE the results a little more plainly instead of just moving stuff around.  It really doesn’t make you feel as successful in your hours long attempt when all you’ve managed to do is move the mess to another part of the house (unless, of course, it is a basement).


this is where you ask those burning questions

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