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hooplove So, I’m sitting here at work, basically just trying to keep myself sane until 5pm, when I decide it’s definitely time for a blog update. My poor bloggy has been so neglected, sometimes I think I should just give it up and hit the delete button, but then I remember all the really good stuff I’ve written here and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I tell myself that I’ll get better, and post more often, but as they say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and apparently so is the internets. Good intentions and porn.

Things have not really changed too much since my last post. I’m still struggling in a job I can now say that I honestly hate. It’s not the position at all-I love my role as a receptionist. It’s actually what’s going on within the restructuring of the company as well as the behind the scenes drama-rama that’s just making everyone insane. It’s only getting worse with each day. Needless to say, I am looking for another job-no big surprise there, right?

I think I’d like to do something a lot less receptionist-y, and maybe more administrative. I have mad admin skillz! *sillygrin* I’d also really enjoy something in which I could actually use my college degrees-maybe editing or proofreading?

Of course, if I won the lottery and became a multimillionaire, this would all be a moot point and I’d be writing blog updates from Cabo, so maybe I should just better start working on that!

My dad is doing well, though we’ve been told he’s reaching the end of his physical therapies and will need to be moved to a permanent, semi-private room soon. He’s no longer a candidate for assisted living as he is still very impulsive about his decisions and is not very ambulatory by himself. What this means of course, is we’ll now have to switch to private pay and begin the whole process for applying to Medicaid. What a pain in the ass.

I just began another bellydancing session with Michelle at The Goddess Hour. Loves it! I’ve also been working a lot on my hoopdancing with the help of online tutorials and I found a wicked awesome online hoop community, Safire Dance, through Safire’s youtube hooping tutorials. I’m not brave enough yet to post my own hoop video-I fear I still look like a seizure victim at times and I’ve not lost that “learning a new trick” face of utter concentration. When I’m more confident in my skills and flow, I will definitely post some vids!

I have some new pics to post too, which I’ll try to do either tonight or sometime soon.

Smoochies!
~TC

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thoughtfulfae.jpg My father has worn wingtips his entire life, or at least as long as I have known him. He had wingtips he would wear to the office, and shiny, flashy wingtips he would wear for a night out. He would wear a pair of old battered wingtips to putter around in the yard or to take a walk or a bike ride. He always wore dress slacks or work slacks as well, with the constant button down collared shirt. No shorts, jeans, or sweatshirts for my dad. I’m not sure why he was so opposed to wearing casual, comfortable clothes however I can speculate that maybe his style of dress was simply a reflection of how he felt inside, and how he viewed the outside world around him.

Recently, my dad has begun wearing sneakers, as they are required during his physical therapy. His therapists had me buy a size larger than what he had requested because, come to find out, he had been wearing the wrong size his entire adult life. The size I got him was perfect and for the first time in his life, my dad was wearing comfortable shoes in the correct fit. Even now, weeks later, he seems always amazed at how comfortable they are and how good his feet feel.

Last night at the hospital, I had an opportunity to see my dad’s bare feet as they stuck out from beneath his covers when the nurse asked him to wiggle his toes. His feet are deformed and knotty looking from years and years of stuffing his feet into too small a shoe size. They look painfully awful and I can’t help but think how sad it is, that he’s lived his whole life this way.

In fact, his feet are kind of an analogy for how he’s lived his whole life. Uncomfortable with himself, I think, and with others around him, he used formality as a type of wall to close himself off from the world. He would rather live pinched and uncomfortable than open himself up to things he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, understand. Maybe he feels that by doing without any luxuries or comfort, and suffering silently on a daily basis, that that somehow makes him better than everyone else, stronger, more resilient.

We all end up at the same place eventually. Time has a way of creeping up on us. It’s difficult for me to understand my dad and his quirks and eccentricities, and I have long given up trying to “help” him see another side of things. Now, I smile and make small talk, and bite back the remarks that might argue or upset. We have never had a bond or a connection, we have never had an in-depth conversation, and perhaps it for this very reason. It pleases me though now to know that at the very least I was able to give my dad a comfortable pair of shoes.

Smoochies,
~TC

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escape.png I remember I was about thirteen or so, and on my way to NY to spend July with my dad and “Miss Piggy,” my stepmother. I was miserable, of course, with the prospect of spending 31 whole days with them, not to mention all that time away from my friends & the beach. However, I was resigned to the unavoidable, and so I filled the nine hour trip by staring out the window as I listened to my Sony Walkman, finding solace in the musical renderings of Winger, Def Leppard, and Ratt.

The backseat was my refuge and I fantasized as I watched the scenery fly by, daydreaming mostly about horses and boys and escaping to the freedom that lay just beyond the window glass. While my father navigated the Pennsylvania Turnpike, I flew just out of reach, my long tangled hair whipping my face as I raced on a stallion as dark as night, hooves barely touching the red clay ground.

As my eyes traveled over the wooded hills and cliffs that bordered the expressway, my thoughts lost in a different world entirely, I was slammed back into the present quite rudely by the sight of a teenaged boy about my age, high on a hillside, pants around his ankles, equipment swinging in the breeze.

He seemed to be exhibiting himself to the passing cars on the turnpike, but he was so high up, no one would have even noticed him unless they were staring out the window as I had been doing. He looked happy, as evidenced by the huge smile on his face, and he waved at us as we passed by, our eyes meeting for the merest fraction of a second. I was so stunned at the strangeness of such a sight, I couldn’t even began to tell my parents in the front seat what I had just witnessed. They’d have never believed me.

And I realized oddly enough, I didn’t want to tell them. It was almost like I shared a secret with this boy. Some weird kinship wrought from longing and the purest essence of freedom. Although I didn’t really understand what this strange kid was up to, I felt instinctively somehow that it went beyond an inclination for perversion, that this rebellious act was actually a grasping for some deeper truth or meaning in life. A one person riot in the face of conformity, he was expressing not only his desire for freedom, but freedom as he felt it to be.

But then again, maybe he was just some whack job exposing himself. Who knows.

Smoochies,
~TC

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autumn.png Today was cold & grey & did I mention cold? Brrr. We watched movies & I cooked a roast chicken with carrots & baby white potatoes & stuffing & gravy & warm dinner rolls with melty butter. Yum.

Tomorrow I’m making soup, and besides tonight’s chicken carcass, I pulled three more “saved” chicken carcasses from the freezer to add to the stock pot. Craig thinks its hilarious that I keep the chicken body when we’ve finished with it, and wonders what other secrets I’ve got stashed in the freezer. *wickedgrin*

Smoochies,
~TC

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adorkable.png Ok, so I haven’t written in awhile. A long while. Two months to be exact. *sparklygrin* What’s a couple months between friends, right? Besides, it’s summer, and I’ve..uhh..been busy doing summer things. Like watching the deer slowly nibble away at my tomato plants. *grumbles*

So, I popped on the other night only to find that The Keeper of the Grove had tagged me with an “Eight Random Things” meme. (Thanks for the compliment, btw! *grinwavies*) Apparently I get to inform and pleasure you lovely readers with eight things you’ll prolly wish you never learned about me. And then I get to pay it forward to eight more bloggers. Hurrah! *wickedgrin* Seatbelts on, kids…here we go!

1. I don’t like my food to touch. It’s okay if it’s something that’s meant to go together like chicken, potatoes, stuffing, and gravy. That’s fine. Hell, you could even throw in a buttered biscuit, and I’m totally cool with that. Toss some peas or carrots into the fray, however, and Gods help us! Chaos will ensue!! Well, not really, but I probably wouldn’t eat the stuff that had been mixed together. Eww. Peas and gravy. Blech! *ickyface*

2. I always “knock on wood.” Craig has even picked up the habit, as I am so fervently religious about it. Now, I’m not a superstitious person on the whole, but “knocking on wood” has NEVER failed me *knock on wood*…and well…*sheepishgrin* moving on…

3. I am addicted to pens. Not just any crappy pens, but the nice, thick heavy pens with the cushion grips. When I see a pen I like, it must be mine! I am unscrupulous about thieving them, and am not above stealing pens from friends, or even my own doctor’s office, I am embarrassed to say. *blushgrin*

4. I have a baseball uniform fetish. *dreamysighgrindrool* It’s even better if it’s a little dirty with mud or grass stains. I’ve been trying to get Craig to join an adult league since we started dating, but he just thinks I’m weird. I think he would look freakin’ hot as hell….*wickedgrindrool*

5. The pinkie toe on my left foot is deformed. Instead of being a normal toe with the nail on top, my toe is sideways, the toenail on the outer side of the toe. It is a normal toe in all regards, I think it just grew differently. It’s not noticeable, unless I point it out. *shrug*

6. I love to sing, even though I suck at it. I know pretty much all the lyrics to every song that would be considered “popular adult music” from the 1940’s on up to the present, thanks in part to my father and his love of AM radio. I’m always surprising Craig when we’re in the car, and I’m flipping through all the stations, singing the words to every song, even the most obscure oldies. *grinshrug* I got mad skillz, people, mad skillz!

7. I love the E! entertainment channel, and if I’m not careful, can very easily fritter away an entire weekend just sitting in front of the TV watching reruns of the “Simple Life,” “Talk Soup,” and “True Hollywood Story.”

8. I have a thing for lip balm and lip gloss. At this moment, I think I have at least ten different kinds in my purse, three loose on my nightstand, a dozen or so in my dresser drawer, about 20-30 in a basket on my nightstand, and another dozen unopened and brand new in my linen closet. I like flavored balms and glosses the best, but at night, at bedtime, I must have the hard stuff, the crack cocaine of the lip product industry, Blistex lip ointment. It is absolutely the best product out there for healing chapped lips, but I use it mostly to keep my lips soft & moisturized. I can’t stand dry lips!!

Now, to share the love….geez, I don’t even know eight bloggers. Srsly.

First and foremost, I’m tagging the Dark Lord and his Lady Cyn over at The Witches of Shadow Lore. Why? ‘Cause I lurve you! *sillygrin*

Next, Marit at You Can’t Make This Stuff Up because her blog makes me laugh and I’m a Pete fan!

Then there’s Joey at Joey Moggie who’s just awesome, and sooo about the felines. *g*

I’m also tagging Holly at Holly Babble, ’cause I think she’s cool, and I like her list of 101 things to do in 1001 days.

Next are Zalary, Manic Witch, The Copasetic Fish and Unknown Pundit because they are strong, passionate, creative women who blog and I enjoy reading them.

Much love,
~TC

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Families are weird

sweet-1.png I don’t have a lot of family. Technically, that’s not really correct. My dad’s family is huge, my mom’s too. But I look at family a little differently, and as such, have kinda pieced together my own, picking and choosing those people I feel close to.

Families are weird, and everyone has their own idiosyncratic oddities clamoring about in the proverbial closet. My dad’s family is a typical uppercrust Southern family-large, close knit, old school, and very strongly opinionated. When my parents divorced, I was 6 or 7, and suddenly we became “the black sheep” of the family. You just didn’t get divorced, that wasn’t done-it was shameful. Couple that with the fact that we had moved out of state, and away from “the fold”, and also that I was adopted, and they had never really accepted me as one of their own, and all of a sudden I was a pariah. While I was able to see my relatives occasionally growing up, mostly on holidays, I never really got to know them or grow close to them-I always felt on the outside of this large circle of family. They made me very aware from their actions and closed conversations that I was not a part of “them.” Now, as an adult, I have no desire to form bonds with these people who are little more than strangers; what feelings I have for them are very neutral, and are akin to those of an unbiased observer.

My mom’s side of the family is where the crazy lives. Since her death, I have cut off all contact with those relatives. Previous to her death, my contact with them was very limited as Mom didn’t really want anything to do with them either. There were those, however, who imposed their presence upon us time and again, usually with their hands extended, and because my mom was pretty much the nicest, sweetest lady in the world, she often found herself being used by relatives who really didn’t care one way or the other. *sigh* It’s hard to be cut off from a select few because of a bunch of bad apples, so to be speak. I miss my cousins.

I have mentioned I am adopted. This is not a big secret, but it’s not something I usually share with people. I’m not embarrassed; it’s just not something that comes up usually in conversation. I have known since as long as I could remember, and it’s never been a big deal to me. For better, and more often than not for worse, I consider my adopted parents as “my parents.” I’ve never really had much of an interest in my bio parents.

However, a couple years ago, Craig and I started talking about maybe finding out what we could about my adoption; any family health history would be very helpful, and I became curious, too, about any bio siblings I might have, having spent all of my life as an only child. We wrote to NYS Health Department, sending the various forms & whatnot, not really expecting much, but still looking forward to something.

After several months, I received a small packet of non-identifying info, containing descriptions of my bio parents, ages, religious prefs, that sort of thing. You really don’t get much beyond that unless they have signed a consent as well. What I found out was a little disturbing. I was concieved in the summer of ’69, that I already knew just by doing the math. My mother was 12 at the time, my father 26. *blink* I can’t even begin to imagine the circumstances surrounding that, and I almost wish I didn’t know that little bit that was released to me. Geez. Suffice it to say, it took me a little while to digest this information. We’ve decided that we will no longer be pursuing this.

Prior to this, I’d wonder every time my birthday rolled around, if my bio mom was out there somewhere wondering about me and where I was, as obviously the date would mean something to her as well. Now, I just wonder if my birthday is a cruel reminder of some horrible circumstance.

Strange how life works, huh?

Smoochies,
~TC

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days.jpg …It’s been awhile….

My health is still not 100%, but I’m getting closer. *s* While I’ve totally recovered from the virus that I’d been fighting forever, it’s been taking me a while to get on my feet from the RA after stopping my meds in order to combat the flu. I’ve been back on my meds for four weeks now, and they are just now beginning to kick in a little. I’m achy still in different joints every day. Tired & low energy too. But it has improved from what it was, so hey…*shrugs* Today, though, I actually had to go into the rheumatologist again for an ultrasound and a shot of steroids into my left palm-I have tendonitis for the second time in a month. Yay. *rolls eyes* If I think on it for too long or too hard, I get depressed, so I’m just trying not to dwell and take every day as it comes, instead of several at once. I just have to hang in there. Honestly though, it’s really hard not to be totally depressed at times, and dwell on what a shit hand I’ve been dealt health-wise.

There is good news though! *g* I finally found a fantastic job, and am back to work! FINALLY! Yay me! I’m working as a receptionist for a real estate corporation, and totally loving it. It’s not much different from what I was doing previously before I got laid off. The people are really nice, and the work itself is no big deal. Very low stress, which is what I need. I’m there through a temp agency, and the position is temp to hire, but I think they’ll hire me-they seem to really like me, and I totally fit in.

Previous to finding this job, I actually was hired by another company (a waste management/recycling company), and was only there a few days before deciding I totally hated it. You see, they kinda of misled me at the interview & when they hired me, not being totally up front about the position. I was told I would be doing four hours of clerical type work in the morning, and then four hours in the scalehouse, weighing trucks in and out. When I asked about this, I was told that it was primarily clerical, and that there would be no “on my feet” for four hours (I can’t handle that with the RA). They LIED. I was not only on my feet for four hours a day, but also running in and out of the office all day long in the cold, because the scalehouse is not part of the office. (Grr.) I could not just quit because then I would have NO money coming in-I would not be able to get back on unemployment as I had accepted a job offer. Sooo, I had to stick it out at the “death camp” until I found something else.

Luckily for me, my recruiter is waaay on top of things and found the perfect job for me. I interviewed first thing in the morning, found out later that same morning that I got the job, and so I quit the “death camp” moments later. *hugegrin*

Funny story-the night before the interview, my crown fell out as I was brushing my teeth, leaving me with a huge gaping whole in the side of my smile. Craig said you could barely tell, but I was soooo upset. Here I am, hanging by a thread, hoping against hope that I get this job, desperate to escape the “death camp”…and I look all toothless! I was mortified. Anyway, I went to the interview, tried to keep that side of my mouth angled away from the supervisors interviewing me, and hoped like hell no one noticed. And I must have done something right, because I landed the job! And got my crown put back in that following weekend.

Now, I have to go back this weekend ’cause the stupid thing is loose again. I feel like a little kid with a loose tooth-I keep wriggling it with my tongue, and I can’t seem to leave it alone. I wonder what the tooth faerie would leave for me? The deductible?

My oldest cat, Sheaffer, has also been sick. He stopped eating for several days, and after several trips to the vet for a catheter & fluids, as well as some radiographs, it was determined that he has a mass tucked just between his spine and gastrointestinal system. It’s about the size of an egg. They offered to send us for an ultrasound, to see if it could be removed, but after much thought we decided against that. With his age, he’s a very poor anesthetic risk, and with the not eating for so long, he’s in poor shape for a surgery. Should he survive the surgery, would he survive the recovery? We don’t know, and so decided it would be better to let him live out his final days in comfort. The doctor gave him a shot of steroids to help entice his appetite, and ever since he’s been eating great, and has definately perked up to almost normal standards. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain, and we figure as long as he’s eating and happy, we’re doing ok. As soon as he seems to decline again, I think we’ll take him in and have him put to sleep. *sadsigh* I’ve been crying alot lately.

During my little “hiatus,” I also found out some information about myself I was not prepared for. I don’t want to go too far into it here, as I really feel it deserves a post all it’s own, so hopefully within the next couple days, I’ll have that up and ready for your reading consumption.

I think a long while ago I may have mentioned I’m a bit voyueristic. I think that’s why I enjoy reading personal blogs so much. Even though, more often than not, I don’t know the writer, I’m usually utterly entranced with reading about the ins and outs of a life not mine. I hope what I leave for you to read is as good as the stuff I enjoy reading-I hope you enjoy it, and feel like you know me a little.

Smoochies,
~TC

PS…Please check out Lily Allen’s new album “Alright, Still” I heart her music! She’s my new fav!

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