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Friday, January 19, 2007

I am so lucky

I am not unlucky that my tire blew out on the side of the road. I am lucky because I didn't get hit by the oncoming traffic that caused me to veer onto the shoulder and into the pothole.

I am not unlucky that my heater keeps going out. I am lucky that I have a roof over my head and blankets to cover my children with.

I am not unlucky because Stanky had to have an emergency tooth extraction. I am lucky that she doesn't have cancer or diabetes or congenital heart disease.

I am not unlucky because my car radio isn't working and I have to drive to work every day in silence. I am lucky because I have a job to drive to.

I am not unlucky because I am going through a divorce after 13 years of chasing a bad relationship. I am lucky to be out of that heart breaking, spirit crushing situation.

I am not unlucky to be constantly on the go and never having any time to myself. I am lucky to have four incredible children who bring me far more laughter than tears.

I am not unlucky because my phone line keeps going dead for no good reason. I am lucky because I haven't endured an emergency that required a phone call to the police/fire department/ambulance.

I am not unlucky because I never seem to have enough money. I am lucky because my life is rich with people who care for me and jump through hoops to come to my aid no matter what.

posted by *******DIANE******* @ 8:04 AM 1 comments

Thursday, January 18, 2007

You've GOT to be kidding me...

Apparently, the Universe has decided that my life isn't quite suck-ass enough, so it graciously threw me another curve ball.

The day before yesterday, I left work slightly later than usual and traffic was picking up as the shifts at the hospital began to change. The road I travel on is a bumpy, pot hole ridden, single lane each way country road. For the most part, my journey to and from work is a peaceful one, surrounded by orchards and rolling meadows. But not on Tuesday.

As I was driving along, minding my business, a cluster of oncoming traffic moving my way caused me to veer a little closer to the shoulder. It doesn't take much for someone to drift over the center line, so I am always extra cautious of oncoming traffic. Anyway, just as I scootch over - BOOM! I hit a pothole right on the shoulder. And at the perfect angle for totally obliterating my front passenger side tire.

I pulled over immediately, screaming all the foul obscenities I could muster, and got out to check my tire. Yep, totally fucked. So, I call my brother, my rescuer, my salvation. He's been quite busy since my separation from my husband, but to be fair, I've called on my dad ten or six times as well. Well, my brother was right in the middle of something, and was willing to drop everything and come running, but tactfully suggested that I give our other brother a call and see what he was up to first. Something I hadn't thought of myself because our little brother is only 19 and hasn't previously been on my sister-in-need-of-rescue radar. But changing a tire was certainly something he could handle. And he lives alot closer to where I was.

Both of my brothers are princes among men, but my 19 year old brother and I have a mutual admiration society, so he was more than willing to rush to my aid. And aid me he did. Unfortunately, once he got the spare on, it was immediately apparent that there was not enough air in there. Something my other brother had predicted, both because he has more experience and because he is perfectly anal and thinks of these types of things.

So my little bro suggested that I follow him very slowly to the gas station and he would fill it up with air. A perfectly tangible plan for a mildly-experienced 19 year old boy and a total half-wit 36 year old woman. A smarter plan would have been to remove the spare, go fill it with air and bring it back. Much, much smarter, as it turns out, because by the time we made it to the gas station, my spare was totally shredded. FUCK.

Little Bro immediately starts calling everyone he knows to see if anyone has a four-lug spare. Sadly, every.last.person he knows has a five-lug car. FUCK again. Finally, I get a ride into town with my sad, broken tire and meet my other brother, the one with the credit card. He takes over the rescue from there. We go to two different shops and end up spending $75 on a new tire and then waiting about 45 minutes for them to put it on. By the time I got home for the day, it was 8:45 p.m.

As if my day weren't sour enough, I remembered that I was supposed to do a mystery shop on my way home from work and missed it. My Internet connection was totally fucking with me, so I couldn't even go online and reschedule.

THEN, to add insult to injury, I go to turn on the second half of the season premiere of American Idol, and find out my cable is off. Which means, of course, that even TIVO isn't picking it up. I manage to get that worked out and catch the last 45 minutes of the show.

I feel like crying, y'all. All that stuff I said about being an optimist, yeah, seeeeriously being tested right now.

posted by *******DIANE******* @ 10:17 AM 2 comments

Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Pedicure-ly challenged

I've been spending time perusing dating websites lately. I'm not particularly ready to start dating, but I have been living in an emotional desert for quite a long time. It's time to end the drought. Or, at least wet my lips a little in preparation for a tall glass of water.

I find it interesting reading some of these guys profiles. I immediately pass by guys who use words like "conversate" or who refer to women as "females". Also, men who are over 30 and dress like my 15 year old son. Just no. Then, there are the ones who have a mortal fear of using spell check. Or worse, the ones who use abbreviations like u for you or ben for been. And, for the love of God, how can a grown man respect himself when he uses the letter 'z' to pluralize something?

But what really has me questioning reality is the number of men out there who seem to embrace idea of pretty feet. I understand attention to grooming and there may even be something uniquely feminine about regular pedicures. But pretty is just not an adjective I've ever used in a sentence that also contains the words "my feet". Not even, "These shoes look really pretty on my feet". I may have said, "Wow, my feet are pretty tired", but even that's a stretch because I'm much more of a "Fuck! My feet hurt!" kind of gal.

I do think my feet are cute. In a Fred Flintstone-Barney Rubble-bust-through-the-floorboard-and-pedal-your-car kind of way. They're short and stubby and a little bit on the wide-side. But, still, cute. Almost childlike. At least they aren't hairy, gnarly toed, little hobbit feet. Although the toenails on my pinky toes have been known to elicit the phrase "*gasp*Oh my God, what happened to your TOE?!" on more than ten occasions. By the same person. But the other eight toenails are fine and hold a coat of polish as well as the next girl's.

Sigh. It's bad enough to live in a world where the standard of beauty is set by tall, skinny, big breasted women with no stretch marks and only one chin. Now even my FEET don't even measure up.

Aren't there any specialty dating websites that call for freckle-faced, thighs-touching-together, fat-footed women with 4 kids, 2 dogs, a dead-end job and no money? That's a bill I can fill.

posted by *******DIANE******* @ 11:20 AM 1 comments

About Me

Name: *******DIANE*******
Home: California
About Me:100 Things
Email Me: HERE
See my complete profile

Cast

Pokeboy = 15 y/o son
Queenie = 11 y/o daughter
Stanky = 6 y/o daughter
Scooby = 2 y/o daughter
Bookem = STB Ex-Husband
Moody = 16 y/o step-daughter
Pinky = 5 lb furball
Java = Boxer-mix rescue