Monday, Oct. 31, 2005
I doubt I'll be seeing any ghosties and goblins tonight, but on the small chance that I do, I did spring for some candy. And I truly DO hope that the little ones get it because frankly my ass doesn't need any more padding. Just a quick walk through the candy aisle today was puh-lenty to add a few more pounds and inches to my butt.
I will say one thing for my ex, who was also my kids' father. When he was sober and wanted to do something imaginative, he was truly, wonderfully devious. For Halloween one year we created a very large dummy and had it sitting out by our front porch for a couple of weeks prior to Halloween. The dummy was garbage bags stuffed with old newspapers and dressed in a huge (and I do mean huge) hooded bathrobe, full rubber mask, gloves and boots. It was decked out to the nth degree and looked GOOD.
Halloween night, though, hubby switched places with the dummy and sat in the same chair, slouching in a perfect match to our Glad-bag mannequin's posture. I think you can guess most of the reactions, but some of the littlest ones cracked him up. One young man of four or five, when hubby turned and looked at him, came up and poked hubby in the nose, straightening to his full midget-sized height, and pronounced, "I know you, you're not real!"
To which hubby replied evenly, "Oh, but I am."
Not missing a beat, the child retorted, "No you're not. You're just a dummy!"
The argument went on for a little while until little boy just shrugged and turned away, marching up the stairs to collect his Halloween booty, and marching away with his nose in the air, ignoring my then-laughing husband.
After he successfully completed rehab, he never failed to dress up for Halloween, which I think was his favorite day of the year. The year before he died, even though he was unwell, he had painted on a ghoul face and had ratted his very long, dark hair (it was by then to the middle of his back) into a vertical afro worthy of Don King. And mind you, he was already 6'4" in his stocking feet. Add to that a good 2" of heel on his boot, and to the kids who came trick-or-treating to his door, he was a veritable giant.
He'd have appreciated being buried on April Fool's Day (which he was.)
This week is starting out reasonably well. My paycheck hit the bank so I could pay my car insurance, and I found out that I didn't really bounce the check I thought I'd bounced - the balance I saw was correct, but the bank had already cleared my check; they just hadn't posted it online when I checked. For about a week I was in abject panic, certain that I wouldn't be able to go to Poolagirl's for her play, which would have toasted not only MY weekend, but also Nicim's and Poola's. (Plus if I remember right, iambucket's going to be there, though she won't be riding shotgun with Nicim and me.)
The ensuing sigh of relief probably started a couple of more hurricanes if there's any truth to the Butterfly Effect.
My $1000 web job was apparently all con job and no web work, though - ergo I'm not holding my breath to see any money from it and not knocking myself out to work on it. Ex-boss is giving me a tapdance all around why I shouldn't hurry to finish the project, how the driving force behind this is people who owe $1 million or thereabouts to the FCC, blah, blah, blah. I think he's just trying to figure out how to con me into telling him my phone number and/or going back to work for him. Ain't gonna happen, in either case.
The smaller job, the $500 one, is legit and I'm working on that a little at a time, hopefully to finish it shortly. I really would like to have a little money when I head to SoCal. I won't exactly starve as it is (not like it would hurt me to do so anyway, fat as I'm getting,) but I'd like to have a little more than the bare minimum in discretionery funds if we decide to traipse along through the zoo, along the beach, whatever.
And no, nobody needs to rescue me or send me cash. I am only whining; kindly pretend you're one of my kids and ignore me on that score! I'm a big girl; I work for a living and will adjust to whatever level of funds I do have to spend.
The onslaught of male attentions has diminished (thank goodness) to just one individual who's kind of in desperate straits, himself. No, I'm not saying that he's desperate because he's pursuing me. His complications are wholly independent of me, in fact. Not sure how much I am willing to get involved, all things considered, but whatever else is true, I'm fair. During the course of my life I've been painted into some pretty dreary corners. I won't arbitrarily dismiss someone who's reasonably well-spoken and intelligent but basically got the sledgehammer treatment from an ex.
That's not the whole of it, but it's certainly a significant factor.
Of course, he could be lying through his butt. Wouldn't be the first person to lie to me. I rarely take things at face value these days - too much water under too many bridges, and plenty of sharks in the water, to boot! But I figure even if there's no romance, I am game for being friends. From the sounds of things, that's what he needs worse at the moment, anyway.
Now whether or not HE agrees remains to be seen.
The interview this morning with Jake S. came off relatively well. We had some electronic feedback on our end, unfortunately, and the young man obviously hasn't done a lot of on-air interviews, but overall it was a lot of fun. I found myself stopping a couple of times to reassure him. He hasn't had enough air time to be smooth yet - the conversation on his end was punctuated with a lot of "you know's" and "umm's". But give him a while and he'll be as much a pro with interviews as he is on the ukulele.
Okay - total crack-up moment tonight. My afternoon guy just sent me an updated promo for his Friday guest (a member of the ORIGINAL Vogues singing group.) Only when I opened the file, it wasn't the promo or even the Vogues. It was the song, "This Guy's In Love With You."
Given my afternoon guy's personality and penchant for the truly tasteless, I knew it wasn't a come-on -- but you can bet your sweet bippy I gave him a hefty share of teasing about it. His excuse? "That's what I get for letting my son help after a couple of beers."
Uh-huh. Sure. Blame it on the drunk kid.
Wish I'd thought of it first!
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )