Tre-Oh Today-Oh

On the day I arrived, I was nekkid as a jaybird. Here are some things I remember and reflect on during this journey.

1 - I potty trained quickly.
2 - I was a sick kid, and one of my earliest memories is of wearing yellow pj’s in an oxygen tent at the hospital.
3 - I have fond memories of footie pajamas and Sesame Street. I was either 3 or 4 when I first remember seeing my mother cry.
4 - We moved across the country to a place where we had no family.
5 - I started school kind of late in the year. I still remember the smell of my teacher’s perfume and the smell of the doughnuts we made in class.
6 - I got my first kiss from the cutest boy in class when it was my turn to hold the door for recess.
7 - I stopped telling my mom I loved her.
8 - I won a drawing contest for child abuse, and the prize was a helicopter ride. I traced some of the things I drew from a book.
9 - We moved across town this summer. I never got to tell my old friends goodbye. I hardly made any friends at the new school.
10 - I threw a spelling bee just to be cool.
11 - I still had no friends.
12 - I finally made some friends. When I talked to a therapist about them, I started crying.
13 - I had my first french kiss with a boy at my birthday party. I had invited his best friend to the party. I really liked him and wanted him to be my first kiss. I eventually got my wish about 5 years later. It wasn’t the same.
14 - My grandma died of cancer.
15 - Got my first job. I still hate the smell of grease on clothing.
16 - My dad fell asleep as I drove on the interstate to go get my driver’s license. I secretly hoped that he slept with one eye open.
17 - Fell in love with a boy that asked me to marry him. He broke up with me.
18 - Graduation day was one of the most surreal days of my life. I was in a fog, and not one that was chemically induced.
19 - I met SpyDad at a party, and he baked me a strawberry birthday cake with cream cheese icing a few weeks later.
20 - I started loving my mom again. She never said anything about not hearing those words from me for so long.
21 - Danced the night away with my friends. I was so sexy that night, or so the tequila shots told me.
22 - Went to Acapulco on my first and last spring break trip ever.
23 - Graduated from college with SpyDad at my side, bought a home, and got married…in that order.
24 - Laid off right before my birthday. I still went on a ski trip I was planning with some old friends. It was the best therapy ever.
25 - Our big house seemed so empty.
26 - GadgetGirl was born.
27 - Mostly a blur, but I found the time to write GadgetGirl’s baby blog. I was such an addict back then.
28 - Saw the boy I feel in love with at 17 at my high school reunion. That deserves a post in itself. Lay-off #2.
29 - Took a leap of faith that I am still hoping and praying comes out in the end.
30 - Woke up nekkid as a jaybird…and here comes SpyDad. He played hooky today!

Ctrl+Alt+Del

Sometimes I wonder why I did this to my family. I mean, I am a logical thinker. I do not think with my heart before I think with my head. And now we’re living in 300 sq ft of mobile hell. Looking back, we probably could have made it without selling the house (which we did about a month-and-a-half ago). Spy Dad got a substantial raise about a month ago. My business is taking off, albeit in the town from whence we came.

Oh hell.

We live by a really busy highway now. It took the life of a man today. A man on a motorcycle died about a half mile away, and now he will probably be buried in the cemetery across the road. We lost our rescue mutt three weeks ago. We tried to keep him in. We built him a nice big fence, but he dug out every night and crossed the road to the cemetery. I’m not so sure what the attraction is over there, but curiosity kills more than just the cat.

I really miss him. But even though we cared for him for the past year-and-a-half, I never felt as though he belonged to us. He was a free spirit. He was about as independent as they come. GadgetGirl asks me every day when he’s coming back even though I tell her that he went to be with Jesus.

She asks when Jesus is going to give him back.

Where is a time machine when you need one?

Times, they are a changin’

I stood at the threshold as I watched a tall thin man in my front yard this evening.  The sun was setting, and the house cast a long shadow across the yard.  I imagined all of the invisible busyness going on.  Mosquitoes buzzed and crickets chirped and tiny tadpoles fluttered around in the small pools collecting by the tin horns in the ditch.

I felt a lump catch in my throat.  It was an unexpected symptom of something I hadn’t felt in a long while.  It’s been a long time since I’ve lost an old friend, and this time is no different.  I know her face, the welcoming feeling, the old bones that took years to grow and finally became my home.

I know I shouldn’t, but I blame myself.  I let myself and my family down.  I’ve been laid off twice, and now I am just going through the motions at work.  I find it difficult to become engaged when all I want to do is leave.  I almost feel as though I’m lying to my workers when I tell them I’ll take care of it or get back to them.  I’m still doing my job, but it’s difficult.  I almost feel betrayed.  I know I can’t take it much longer.  We’ll see if I can make it through tomorrow.

Heard it all before

Hello my dear friends. All of three of you.

I need to write. I need to get it off my chest because I have no idea why I am in the predicament I’m in. I’m a hard worker, and I love people. I love my job…but my job doesn’t love me.

I’m about to lose it, again.

I’ve got two months to shape up or ship out. Unfortunately, I think my boss has already set the ship to sail. Maybe I didn’t get on his good side right away. I have no idea. But the fact remains that he believes the majority of the people that work for me don’t like me. I couldn’t honestly give a shit. I’m not there to make friends. I think I have a lot to offer. I know I have a lot to offer. And I really don’t think that many people hate me. I have my eye on a couple, but a couple is not the majority.

So, in the next two months, my boss will set out to show that I can’t cut it so he can fire me. I’m about to prove him very, very wrong. If you don’t hear from me until then, you’ll know why. If you do, then you’ll be hearing a lot from me because I’ll have a lot of time on my hands again.

Kalki’s September

When I wrote about my father-in-law, and the possibility of him having cancer, Kalki wrote:

I hereby forbid your September to be anything like my August. Dammit.

She was referring to this post on her site.

Well, hold on to your hats folks, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Honoring World Trade Center victim, Kevin Francis Conroy

On my anniversary last Friday, I alluded to the fact that I had signed up to honor one of the victims of the attacks on September 11, 2001. His name is Kevin Francis Conroy, and I will try my best to serve his memory.

I’ll never forget that beautiful bright day of sunshine I awoke to on September 11, 2001. I was busying myself at work when my co-worker popped over the cube and said, “Oh my God, somebody flew a plane into the World Trade Center!” I acknowledged what he said with a nod, and went back to my work. Having never been to New York myself, all I knew was that the World Trade Center was really tall. Surely the plane he was speaking of was just a small one person plane that lost altitude and crashed into a window. Surely nobody died except for the pilot. Surely.

How wrong I was.

Minutes later I heard, “Another plane crashed into the second tower!” And what could have been minutes or hours later, “The towers collapsed! Oh my God! The towers are gone!”

I was working on the 46th floor of the tallest building in our quiet little metro city. There’s nothing special about the architecture of the building itself. That is, unless you don’t count the fact that it was a 50 story replica of the Twin Towers designed by the same architect. Soon thereafter, we were all evacuated.

By that time, Kevin Francis Conroy had died. Kevin was one of the 295 people working at the insurance brokerage giant, March & McLennan (MMC), that died that day. He was the vice president of corporate accounting.

When looking for information on Kevin on the Internet, I didn’t find much to back the accolades of his career. What I found was much better. I found people who knew Kevin as a father, husband, and friend that poured their hearts out on memorial sites like September 11 Victims and the MMC Memorial site.

Kevin was only 47-years-old when he died. He left behind his wife, Georgette, and his four children Matthew, Jamie, Christine, and Jill aged 6 to 12 at the time. They lived in Kensington, Brooklyn, and he insisted that they gather together each evening for supper, a supper that he often prepared himself. The New York Times quoted his cousin Lynn Taylor saying, “They were the only family I knew that cooked dinner every night. It was just important for him that the family sit together at the house.” For a family busy with youth sports leagues and homework x 4, this must have been no easy feat. Kevin knew that there are things to look forward to in life, and one of the best things is sitting down with your family at supper to discuss the day’s events.

On the weekends, Kevin and his family often entertained friends and family at their home. He always looked forwards to those special times. His cousins, Tom and Oonagh read the following at a memorial service: “We shared some great times, drank some beer, and had lots and lots of laughs. And Kevin, the barbecues were great.”

As I began to read more and more about this man that appeared to love his family and friends more than life itself, I found little notes and tidbits from former New Jersey schoolmates and parents of kids he coached.

Pam Slattery wrote, “Kevin was such a gentleman. He was the kind of fellow every mom wishes her daughter would bring home.”

Gloria Chin wrote, “He really loved being a husband and father. He talked about his family often and with great pride and contentment.”

In spring of last year, Nick Cremeni penned a heartfelt note to Kevin, “Last night the YOUR Immaculate Heart of Mary girl’s basketball team,which you started won the BCBA JR. Divison championship. Your daughters Jaime & Christine played like the winners the are.I know you were watching.Words cannot express how much you are missed by the entire Crimeni family. Happy St. Patricks day. GOD BLESS.”

And finally, Kevin’s son Matthew who is seventeen now left this message for him, “Dad, I am going to miss you. You are the greatest person who ever lived in my eyes. May god take good care of you up there Dad. We are all going to miss you. I love you. Matt”

It saddens me to no end that this man lost his life too soon, as well as the other 2,995 victims that day. I don’t know why we have to live in a world where innocent people are killed in the name of God. I can tell you one thing, though. Kevin and I don’t report to that God which they speak of. I don’t believe a God like that could exist.

If you’ve read this far down, thank you for staying with me. It’s difficult to truly honor someone that you have never met except through the voices of the loved ones he left behind. Through them and projects like this, we never will forget them.

And finally, I ask you to do something in memory of this man. Tonight, go home and cook a meal with your family. Talk to them. Share things and laugh as though it’s your last day on Earth. Kevin lived each day like this, and for that reason, there can be no regrets.

I’d like to leave you with a famous Irish blessing. Kevin was proud of his Irish heritage, and I’ve never found this blessing to be quite so fitting as it is today. God bless you, Kevin. May you rest in peace.

“May the road rise to meet you, May the wind be always at your back, May the sun shine warm upon your face, The rains fall soft upon your fields, And until we meet again, May God hold you In the palm of His hand.”

Why I can’t lose weight

As the last few seconds dwindled down on my plain instant artery unclogging oatmeal in the microwave, I spied something out of the corner of my eye.

The microwave beeped, and I removed my oatmeal.  I stirred until the consistency was just right, and soon I was standing in front of a table of leftovers from my boss’ birthday yesterday.

Who knows why I did it, but I may be the first person in the universe to top my plain instant artery unclogging oatmeal with a leftover Krispy Kreme doughnut.

5 years

Today is a special day.  Five years ago today, I woke up to the white sateen-y sheet bliss of my sister-in-law’s guest bed and smiled at the rays of sunshine streaming into the room.  It was my wedding day.

SpyDad and I were engaged for seven months after 3 years of dating, so we’ve been together for a total of 8 years.  I’ve never committed to anything in my life for that long.  I still remember sitting on his bed shortly after he proposed, rifling through the calendar trying to decide upon a wedding date.  December?  Too cold.  October?  People will be thinking about Halloween.  How about the Labor Day weekend?  Hmmm, I suppose that would allow out-of-towners some extra visiting time.  And hey!  That Saturday’s date is 9/1/01.  Cool!  We could get married on 911!

How quickly the allure and humor of that date wore off.

Ten days later I was sitting on my couch, tears streaming down my face, watching the events of the real 9/11 unfold.  A few days ago, Busy Mom referred her readers to 2,996, a tribute to all 2,996 victims on that fateful day of September 11, 2001.  I signed up and researched the victim assigned to me, a victim that will never again celebrate an anniversary or see his children’s faces.

Yes, today is a special day.  I have so much to be thankful for.  I will never forget that.

Incoherent

Wow, you people don’t mess around. I booted up my computer today and found that three of my regular reads either jumped ship to WordPress or were thinking about it. You all go help a mutha out. I’m warning you about the Tripod comments now. You will be asking someone to rip your fingernails out for you because it will help you forget about the pain of trying to comment.

In other news…

I’m in workout mode. I’m tired of being a lazy, tired ass. I know what I need to do, but I just spend most of time talking myself out of it. I tried the McDonald’s cardio workout DVD this afternoon, and it was incredibly weird to be instructed my a 2-bit CGI Barbie doll that had more bounce than a 6-month-old watermelon. As I was just getting into it, GadgetGirl decided to bring each and every one of her sharp, tiny toys over and place them at my feet. I felt like Jackie Chan trying to dodge the Dora bullet.

Eventually I finished, and I decided to try the PlayStation 2 Dance Dance Revolution game. I haven’t done this in awhile. The last time I tried it, GadgetGirl got extremely pissed and I had to hold her while I did it. I’m trying to lose weight, not gain a 20-pound toddler. This time was a little better. GadgetGirl let me do a song, and then demanded, “MY TURN!” She jumped on the pad, did a really bad imitation of Charlie Chaplin needing to take a dump, and then promptly jumped off. When the song was over and I stood up, she shouted “MY TURN!” again.

What’s a mutha to do?

So I’m sitting here at the computer an hour past my bedtime, and the fat cells in my ass decided to act like it’s World War III. I’m starting to wonder if that Jello I had for lunch bypassed my colon and headed straight to my thighs. It’s a weird feeling, but I kind of like it. It’s a change that’s been a long time a’comin.