Oh, Edna Mae...

My mom is a hairdresser.

She has some Crazy clients.

Enter into evidence "Edna Mae":

Edna Mae returns her corn to the the store when the end of it is chewed on by bugs. The rest of us just cut that part off.

Edna Mae has returned bananas to the store because they turned brown.

Edna Mae has returned meat because she decided she didn't need all of the meat she purchased. You return sweaters when you buy too many - you don't return meat.

But today! Today my mom had a story that tops all the rest:

This morning, Edna Mae came into Mom's shop and told Mom about how, on the way there, two deer ran out in front of her car and she almost hit them. And she couldn't get her hair done yet because she had to call 9-1-1.

Mom said, "911?"

Edna Mae said, "Yes! Someone needs to know about those two deer! The could have caused me to wreck my car! Someone needs to do something!"

Mom tried to discourage her from calling 911. Mostly because Mom didn't need the aggravation of the Fire Department pulling up in front of her place of business with their Ginormous Red Fire Engine in response to Edna Mae's call.

But Edna Mae wouldn't listen. She called 911.

And she told them about how she was driving in her car and two deer ran out in front of her and how it was a dangerous situation and how someone needs to do something because someone could be killed.

And I asked Mom, "What did she want them to do? Send two cops out to talk to the deer? Did she want them to cuff them and haul them downtown? Did she think they would execute a man(deer)hunt? WHAT, EXACTLY DID SHE THINK THEY COULD DO ABOUT IT???"

Mom was speechless.

The dispatcher told Edna Mae that she had the wrong number.

And Edna Mae gave it up.

But now I feel so insecure that there are two rogue deer in town willy-nilly running in front of cars, recklessly trying to forage for food and risking my life for their own self-preservation!

I should call someone.

"The Time Has Come, the Walrus Said..."

I didn't want to write because I didn't want to sound sad.

And I'm not sad, per se. (How do you spell per se?) I'm just a little weirded-out.

One year ago today I asked my husband of 15 years for a divorce.

Today, the kids left for their first visit with their dad since the divorce.

And I did not cry. (Mostly, anyway.)

I did:

• balance my checkbook
• pay bills
• put plastic on 2 of the 8 windows in my living room (sexy)
• corral dustbunnies
• gather up Christmas paraphernalia
• organize my office supplies
• make Mackenzie's bed
• eat all the peanut clusters and chocolate-dipped pretzels
• take a bubble bath
• go to bed early (but not fall asleep)
  
• read (The Virgin's Lover)
• catch another cold
  

I didn't know what else to do - I just knew I needed to keep moving. Mom called me and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner. But I ate leftover Gumbo at 3:00 so I wasn't hungry for dinner and I feel like crap, so I went to bed instead.

Tomorrow will be better.

Happy Holidays!

From Paige, Dillon, Mackenzie and Taiko...

So I've Been a Little Preoccupied

First, I bought this:



Then, I cut this:



Now I'm doing my damnedest to survive this:



All while working 6 days a week.

I'm open for suggestions.

But scratch the wine. I've already tried it and it doesn't really help.

Schooled By A Toddler

So. I'm driving through Americus, IN.

There is a truck trying to make a left-hand turn into The Restaurant in Americus. I could pass on the shoulder on the right, except for the chicken...


...pecking at the side of the road.

A few hours later, I had a two-year-old girl-baby in my car that I was transporting to a visitation. We were chatting away, when I said, "Look, K*****! A green tractor!" (It was a John Deere out in a half-harvested corn-field.)

"Yes, a green Tractor!"

A half-a-mile down the road, I saw a red one:

"Look, K*****! A RED tractor!"

"That's not a tractor. That's a combine."

And she was right.

The Low-Down

Seriously. Can we talk about how you working people do it? How do you work and cook and read and hang out with your kids and go to dive meets and clean the bathroom and do laundry? I haven't read a book since I started working. I haven't knit a scarf and here it is Winter (or at least Fall, and getting damn chilly). I should be balancing my checkbook right now. I have no idea how much money is in there, but I am certain it isn't much. I've been working 5-6 days a week, and usually house-hunting on one of my days off. But I can't make a damn decision so I'm still just hunting and driving my realtor batty. I thought I forgot to pay my my Verizon Wireless bill, so I paid it twice. Now I'm ahead. By $130. Someone hit Dillon's car in the parking lot of his school, while he was in class, and his car's been in the shop all week. Two-thousand dollars damage (rear bumper, tail-light, and fender). The police can't do anything about it with no witnesses.

Seriously. The kid has the Worst Luck.

I have to do two visitations and a transport tomorrow, to the tune of 13 hours and 230 miles. I've put almost 2,500 miles on Lucy in 6 weeks, and am almost due for another oil change. The kids both need teeth cleanings, but I haven't gotten around to checking my calendar and making the appointments. It's on my short list - to do this week (assuming I remember).

I keep thinking of great subjects to blog - funny things I saw, things that made me laugh.... But by the time I get home, I can't remember them. At. All. By the time I get home, my mind is blank. Maybe I'll get one of those Little Tiny Voice Recorders. Like on late night AsSeenOnTV commercials. Haven't you seen them? Because I can't write notes while driving on a two-lane country road. I've tried.

I'm still just hanging on by a thread, but my issues are less Emotional Hullaballoo and more just Regular Old Busy at the moment. I'm spread thin, but feel stronger than I have in years. I'm tired as Hell, but happier than I can remember being. I have a deadline in my head for a move-out date, whether it's into my Own Home or into a Rental. I haven't exactly concluded where yet, though I'm getting closer to a decision.

So it's all good.

A little crazy, but good.

So You Can Breathe Again...

I picked Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry."

It's A Puzzler

I can't decide if my new ringtone should be
"Big Girls Don't Cry", Fergie
or
"Save A Horse (Ride a Cowboy)".

John Deere Traffic Jam

Remember how I said it was Harvesting Season around here? (Don't let my sniffing and coughing bother you...)

Can you believe that the past two weeks I've been driving my circles around Indiana, frequently stuck on a two-lane highway, behind this Combine, or that Sprayer, sometimes even a Tiller, making it nearly impossible for me to pass, while miles and miles passed slowly by outside my window. And during each day of said past two weeks I have been without my camera at the most opportune minutes.

So I concentrated and concentrated, and today I remembered to grab my camera on the way out the door. But do you think I saw a single John Deere on the road? No. There were plenty in the fields, but what's special about a green tractor in a field? And as I drove along today, I recalled that last week my drive was in a corridor of brown corn stalks. By contrast, this week, the crops are gone and Indiana plains have returned. The farmers have been busy harvesting their fields since I last drove today's route. I may have to wait for next year to get you a photo of a Combine on the highway.

Makes Me Laugh

Only In Indiana

I guess we're assimilating to Indiana. Mackenzie asked me yesterday, after we upgraded our cell phones, "Mom, can I download the Nascar game to my phone?"

And yesterday, I only bitched for 10 minutes after getting stopped by the second train in less than 5 hours. One of which also made Mackenzie late for school after we sat there for 12 (twelve!) minutes as the train went back and forth and started and stopped until I almost lost my mind. That NEVER happened in San Diego or Washington, DC.

Also, I'm less than impressed with the pollen and sundry crap floating around in the air here. Everyone's allergies have been worse the past week or so. Why, you ask? (For it is not blooming season....) Well, my friends, in Indiana (and most of the midwest, I suspect), we have something much, much worse than Blooming Season. We have Harvesting Season. And when the farmer hauls out his ginormous farm equipment and starts cutting down the brown stalks of corn and tufts of soy beans, the Hayfever... it goes Haywire.

Work is going well. I spend a lot of time doing this:



...and looking at stuff like this:



...and this:



But so far, I do like it. It appears to be something I was made to do. We'll see. I have odd hours and it requires some nights and weekends, which I don't love, but hopefully that will decrease as time goes by.

And I spend a lot of time in the evenings writing reports, so everyone to whom I owe an email, phone call, or text message, please be patient. I'm still trying to manage my schedule AND my sanity.

I'm A Big Fat Liar

I started working Today.

Observing a co-worker during home visits.

And tomorrow too.

Now I have to go to bed because the 6 am alarm is killing me.

Bringing Sexy Back

I couldn't find any Hydrocortisone. But I was desperate, so I went back to that bottle I'd been ignoring. It brought back so many memories of my childhood - hikes and camping trips that frequently ended up in Poison Ivy. Is there anything more distinctive than the color and smell of Calamine lotion?

I didn't want to have to go there, but my ears are burning (and not in an oh, someone's talking about me sort of way) and red and swollen; they are scaly and bumpy and itchy (sexy, I know), as is the surrounding 2 inches of skin and the back of my neck. It's bad. It started yesterday morning and has gotten worse and worse over the past 2 days until tonight, when I was ready to rip my ears off, just to rid myself of the discomfort.

I wracked my brain, trying to figure it out. All I could think was that I had my hair returned to it's natural state (minus 4 inches (!!)) on Monday. Maybe my ears were a reaction to the chemicals? But my scalp was fine... not to mention the fact that Omm used the same haircolor she's been using for the past 13 years...

Then all of a sudden it hit me - sometimes, when I wear my glasses, the skin behind my ears is raw and itchy the next day (which for most people, would make them think they were allergic and they would stop wearing the glasses - me, not so much as I am Stubborn). I wore my glasses Monday night whilst studying for my Tuesday morning interview. Duh.

Unfortunately, this "A-Ha Moment" didn't solve the problem - I was still uncomfortable and distracted and whining like a big fat baby to anyone who would listen.

So back to the Tub-O-Pharmaceuticals I went, zeroing in on the Calamine Lotion. But when I picked it up, I noticed how it had the distinctive air of "Flea Market". The bottle actually stated, "Shatterproof Bottle" in big letters, right on the front. Remember when plastic bottles were considered an evolutionary advance for humans? I turned the bottle over, not expecting to find an expiration date. "1/88." January 1988. (Which probably means it was purchased about 3 years earlier.) Seriously. Think about it... what were you doing in 1988? That was a DAMN long time ago.

Regardless of this scary fact, I was desperate (remember the desperation?) ...so I shook the antique Calamine Lotion up. I smelled it. And as it smelled exactly like it was supposed to, I grabbed a cotton ball and now I'm sporting chalky pink ears and neck, the scent unmistakably Eau de Summer, 1985.

The News, It Is Good

I got the job.......

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I start training on Monday.

In the nutshell, I'm an Intervention Specialist, working with families in need of services (parental education, coping skills, general life skills...) referred to my company, from the Department of Child Services.

Thanks for the well-wishes, crossed fingers, and prayers!

Girl, Out of Her Box

This was written last week, when I arrived early for an interview at Purdue and waited in the hallway, in a chair, outside the doorway of an English classroom...

It's been 16 years since I sat in these hallways. Back then, in my early 20's, I had on some old, ripped-up Levi's, sneakers, and a sweatshirt (probably inside out).

Today, at 40, I have somehow traveled full circle and am back where I started.

I sit here in my favorite designer suit with the kicky pleated skirt, wearing black slingback pumps of the same designer, my hands shaking slightly, my too-long hair pulled back in a sensible black barrette.

I am early. By 30 minutes. So I decide that a scan of the job description I am interviewing for and a quick study of my resume might be prudent at this point, but I am distracted. Young students, Dillon's age; grad students, barely older; and professors pass me in the hall, giving me a sideways glance, no-doubt wondering why I am looking so spiffy and uncomfortable in their hallway on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

The job I am here to interview for is something I don't really want to Do. It's a secretarial position. Of all the things I never wanted to be, "Secretary" was near the top of the list - I worked hard in college, my motivation avoiding having to be a secretary some day. (Ironic, isn't it?) But as life goes on, priorities change and at this point, being free of a dysfunctional relationship far outweighs taking a job that falls short of my career goals and in the end, after talking myself in yet another circle, I really do want this job.

So I take a deep breath, put on a smile, and return to studying my resume.

But I keep eyeing my watch, my stomach feeling tighter with each passing minute.

Finally, it's time...