Nothing But Love Blah, blah, blah :: this is my view of my life -- some of it.
Monday, July 21
SPECIAL PREVIEW AND ANNOUNCEMENT
i THOUGHT it was going to be two more days, but it's basically ready now. www.nothingbutlove.net. that's my new home and a birthday present! i'll be working (that means matt will be working) on linking to my blogspot archives and tweaking other stuff for the next couple of days.
last night, after jax came home at 11:30, conked out. i mean conked out. we keep our bedroom door closed to keep beagle scout in the room. when we closed the door to sleep, i asked bill if sheba was on the floor where i couldn’t see her. he said no, that she was probably in jax’s room.
just before 3 a.m., the phone rang. if you’re like me, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, you are instantly jolted awake. scared. bill picks up the phone:
bill: hello?
caller: mr. lang?
bill: yes, who’s this>
caller: this is the avon lake police department, mr. lang
oh fuck. you know how it is. a million thoughts – all of them bad – run through your head in the small part of a second before you hear the rest of the words.
caller: do you have a dog?
bill: yes?
caller: the officers are at your door right now with your dog.
bill: i’ll be right down.
bill runs down the steps, opens the door. two officers are standing at the door as the most excited and grateful dog you’ve ever seen rushes into the house to bill.
officer: we got a call that she’s been going crazy outside, not able to get in. a neighbor called us.
evidently, jackson let her out when he came home. we have an electronic dog fence, so she doesn’t leave the yard. we are sick. i am torturing myself with the thought of this wonderful (i mean this is the best dog i’ve ever known) dog, frantic at not being able to get in. it was important enough for her to be with us that she could not just lay down and go to sleep.
after about ten minutes of lots of dog kisses and jumping, she jumped on the bed and passed out. she was exhausted. she’s just fine today. i’m sure she’s not feeling as bad as i am, remembering another summer evening ...
matty was just about a year. bill and i put him to bed, opened our lawn chairs on the patio of our townhouse condo we lived in, brought a little portable tv outside, and settled in to watch the ball game, maybe 10 feet below his bedroom window. but it was hot as hell, and the airconditioning was on in the house, so all doors and windows were closed. so bill or i’d get up every once in a while and step inside the door to listen in case he woke up and needed something. never heard a thing. this was from about 7 p.m. to maybe 9 when we went in. i walked upstairs right away to check him. he was sleeping in the crib, but he was beet red, and his white-blonde hair was plastered with sweat to his little head. my first thought was that he had a terrible fever and reached in to touch his head. i said, “matt?” he opened his eyes immediate, looked at me, and said, “mom, you’re home?” he broke into baby boy sobs, telling me that he woke up, called for us, we didn’t answer. so he climbed out of the crib! searched the house for us! he looked under beds! in closets! can you picture this?
i can’t think about it without crying. i had heard about – even was acquainted with – parents who’d LEAVE the house after putting their kids to bed. we may as well have done that. i’ll NEVER forgive myself for that.
yesterday evening, bill and i went to starbucks. imagine our shock and horror at finding a truck with no handicapped sticker parked in the ONE AND ONLY handicapped parking space! normally, i wait in the car, and bill goes in; in that case we don’t use the handicapped space. duh! but yesterday, i was actually going into starbucks to use the restroom while bill attended to the mochas. so bill’s pissed, i’m pissed, but jen (one of the starbucks “partners”) is WHITE HOT FURIOUS. yay! she does not even let us finish bitching before she’s out the door hot on the trail of the perp. she obviously knows who it is and where to find him. he’s so sorry to jen – she seriously kicks his ass – he was just making a quick delivery to the travel agency next door. he leaves – with his tail between his legs. the travel-agency lady comes over – she’s sorry, too. bill and jen BOTH kick HER ass. all the while, my gimpy ass is in the bathroom. dammit!
so this morning, i pull into my parking lot and head for the handicapped parking spaces (four of them, 2x2, with open access from each end). two women are taking up two of the spaces. not handicapped. just doing a quick swap of some boxes or something in a convenient “unloading” area. so i make the once around in the lot to head into one of the other two spots in front of them (if you’re not following this, don’t worry. not important). there’s a car parked in the traffic lane making easy access to the spots ALMOST impossible. i say almost because i actually got in to one of them. but i get out of my little white who-/ gimp-mobile beetle swearing and pissed. I WANT TO KICK SOME ASS! but the two ladies leave immediately.
denied. again. fair warning – don’t park in a handicapped spot today ANYWHERE in ohio. k?
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oh. and here’s a picture of something that tickled me this morning.
it’s a shot of my nightstand. if you’re bored, i understand. it just seemed like it defined my life this morning to me. left to right:
my fan – i’m gonna be 49 next week – this is essential nightstand accoutrements for a 49-year-old woman
the little “vessel” in which i keep my nail file, coins, candle lighter, crap, and the sissy-ribboned nail clippers (thusly be-ribboned so that the BOYS in my house will return to the rightful owner)
the antique candle holder matty bought for me while in london is hiding behind the “vessel.” i have never put a candle in it. why? i don’t know.
a lamp – what? you couldn’t tell that was a lamp???
a box of kleenex – duh
in front of the box of kleenex is what is left of the candle i lit last night. smelled good, but what a freaking mess i have to clean up when i get home!
in front of the candle is the pin bill bought me for our anniversary last month.
behind the kleenex are the hospital pictures of our boys, matt and jax.
the little red bag contains a new stamp to add to my “collection.” i TOLD you – i “collect” stamps – i’m not a stamper!
the 6,784 oz coke bill bought for me saturday. when he brought it out of the gas station to me, i asked him what he was thinking. he said, “you LIKE flat pop! so it’ll last you a week!” it will be a week tomorrow. looks like it will last two weeks to me.
WHAT’S ON YOUR NIGHTSTAND? right now. don’t clean it up til you tell.
so. we (bill and i) meet the jackal for lunch at tony roma's. he heads home. we head out for more errands. you have to be sitting down for this next part, i'm afraid. one of the errands is to head to a local piercing kiosk for a piercing on the top cartilage of one of my ears. ok, i know it's weird. no comments about it, please. there is no accounting for people's different tastes. let's just leave it at that. anyway. we get to the mall where my usual choice for ear piercings has ALWAYS been located (it's not like i have 12 holes in each ear -- i have two in one, and one in the other; but the boys, matt, jax, and mark, have had ear piercings done at this place, so i've been there some). it's CLOSED! dammit. so i ask the girl at the dakota watch kiosk who has teeth that make men think of ... umm. never mind. my children read this. so i ask her where to go for a piercing. she says "claire's." i say, "oh, yeah." i vaguely remember this store. but what i had forgotten about this store is that each time i enter this place, i feel like an atomic particulate tractor beam searches for my brain -- and searches every other patron that dares enter, most of whom remind me of the jody foster character in taxi driver . all 13 year-old, bare-midriffed mini women (i wanted to use another word there, but you know me and propriety. we're like this. picture me holding up my index and middle finger together). anyway, the tractor beam. it starts sucking out iq points faster than i can recognize who's in charge to direct my inquiry. oh. it's not like EVERYBODY in the store doesn't turn and look at you and wonder wtf YOU are doing there. i'd guess it's probably the fact that i'm 48 year's old. that or the obvious intelligence in my eyes.
so all these young women are standing, staring at me; and i'm trying to find the one with some kind of name tag to ask a question. bill's standing behind me, shaking. so i decide that the best course of action is to get the hell out. quick. before we can't think anymore. we run.
i pretend we didn't run out of fear. don't wanna make bill feel bad. i say, "it's too crowded in there. let's go to the one closer to home." he says, "good idea."
we finish up the rest of our errands and head to the local claire's (it's right next door to the bath and body works store bill and i frequent at least twice a month). a quick glance inside (as we pretend to be heading to b&bw) reveals that this store is much less crowded. instead of the 150 or so (ok maybe not) 13 year-old patrons and store clerks, there appears to be only 3 women (you know what i'm saying) in the entire store. bill and i quickly ascertain that we could probably take them if necessary. we walk in. quick. before more patrons arrive. this time only three pairs of eyes stare -- i swear they can tell that we are near death (nearer than they are anyway), and they are ready to pounce on our rotting flesh once we drop. that HAS to be what they want. because no one says, "can i help you?" there are two women near the cash register, and the other in my peripheral vision to the right. i know because i have made a note to keep them all in my sight at all times. once again, bill's behind me. i don't think he's shaking yet, but i can smell the fear just starting to grow.
i decide to take charge. of the two at the register, one is wearing what appears to be a name tag. the other with her, none. they both continue staring. no name tag looks away. and then back. and then away. and then back. i will not let them see my fear. so i say, "what? are we too old to come in here?" the one with no name tag says, "what?" so i repeat my polite inquiry. (i swear to god it was polite!). she says, "oh no, it's fine." the name-tag says, "what?" i repeat my question / joke to her. she responds, "what?" wtf? i repeat and add, "it was a joke." she says, "oh." so i ask her, do you do piercings here?" (i'm holding the top of my ear between my thumb and forefinger) she says, "yes, but i am required to tell you that if you get it done here, you'll most likely get a bump where the piercing is." at this point she says something to no name tag that makes it clear to my quickly-shrinking brain that no name tag works here, too. so i say to her, "oh, you work here, too? you get paid to be rude to customers?" clearly, i have taken the upper hand, because nobody knows what to say. i always forget that rule about pretending not to notice stuff. freaks people out.
i decide that my work here is done. they didn't wanna do it, and i'm not letting them touch me. i ask her where i should get it done, and she tells me a piercing parlor. i swear to god i think to myself "a piercing parlor? me? cool. more blogging material!"
we walk out. bill tells me i overreacted. pfffft. i got him out just barely in time. and he doesn't appreciate it.
we're back. billy's blogging (duh!), but so am i (doh!). the ball game's on. we went to starbuck's (twice!), the stamp / stationery store (bill needed envelopes for his 3x5 levenger's note cards, but we wound up spending $120!), the craft store (i needed a new clasp for the pin bill bought me for our anniversary, otw it was just a matter of time before i lost it -- he STILL has not forgiven me for losing his h.s. ring when we were teenagers. when we were teenagers, we wore each other's class rings. we called it going steady. archaic, i know. the girls wrapped the guy's rings with angora yarn to size the ring. ask your mother!), the record store, marc's (if you don't have marc's stores, i'm sorry -- they are the coolest stores on earth). a quick lunch, blogging, and the ball game, and then we're off to the golf course.
while we were in the stamp store, matty called to ask me for a groom and his mom song for the wedding. he needed it asap as mel's faxing the list this afternoon. quick calls to friends dee ann and tanas (marlene was not home), and sister pj produced the following:
dee ann: the beatles' "in my life," louis armstrong's "wonderful world"
tanas: bette midler's "wind beneath my wings," ?'s "the bitch is back" -- thanks tanas!
pj: some kind of celine dion pap -- wtf? helloooo???
i had been thinking "wonderful world" before dee ann called me back, so i told matt "wonderful world" or "in my life."
while we were in the record store i saw jane oliver's "he's so fine." made me cry cuz i used to rock him to sleep singing that. but, alas, too fast for gimpy mom to slow dance to.
what would you have told him? come on -- make me feel bad. do your worst.
i'll try to fix the site when i can. find something else to do. i'm heading out to starbucks, and other fun saturday stuff with billy. sucks to be you.
below are a couple quick pictures from the "not-a-shower" today. really just a couple close friends over for lunch (they just happened to bring presents for mat and mel). i'm exhausted. fried way too much chicken, made (kt and mark decorated it!) the biggest freakin' cake ever. well, probably not ever. but way, way too much of everything. we'll be eating "not-a-shower" food for a while. i could never do these things without bill and the boys. they worked their asses off! and kt. i wanna adopt her. she is the bomb! i'm not kidding. she had eye surgery just 10 days ago and was an incredible help. pj and michael came over early in the day to help, too. nobody takes over like pj -- just tell her what you need, give her ingredients, and she's off! i always bite off way more than i can chew with these things, and everybody else pays the price.
the weather was pretty hot here today -- not unbearably hot -- and there was relief inside with the air-conditioning. the freakin' air went out yesterday afternoon! we spent a hot night (ok, ok. i was the only one who complained) and this morning i called the a/c company i always use. they told me no service unless i had a service contract or was elderly. i'm not THAT old so i asked how i get on a contract. call back monday morning! so we called the closest a/c company we found on line and left a message. i was only gonna call ONE company. i figured if they called me back, great; if not, we'd have to suffer through it -- we didn't have the time to waste trying to get someone here. in 10 minutes, the guy called. he was here within an hour and a half, fixed it in 15 minutes, and only charged $130! we were thrilled! weekend service, quick, friendly, efficient, and it didn't cost bill's left nut. yay! we were sweating it -- figuratively and literally -- we knew the problem was with the 17-year-old compressor. no problem. couple of big fuses. phew.
so now we're relaxing. matt, mel, mark, and kt playing scrabble, bill blogging (duh!), jax out with buddies, and i'm gonna post these pics and try to talk bill into getting off-line and heading up to a more relaxing place. mark, kt, and mel are leaving early in the morning. matt will be home (won't be calling it home for long -- sniff) until wednesday. i'm gonna try to take off some time until he heads back.
bill's site is not working. he's not handling it well, so i'm going to allow him to post on this "horror show called a blog." until he can post on his own site. and i'm busy working on the "shower" that we're hosting tomorrow. after tomorrow, i'm sure i'll have time and material to post. betrothed pictures, guests, food, and dogs. stay tuned.
Stacey, the person who runs this horror show called a blog, and I have this kid who is a recovering drug addict, who stole a lot of money from us and betrayed our trust, and caused some undue stress in the house. He went through intensive out-patient treatment, which helped as much as France helped the U.S. in Iraq, and then spent some time out west in Utah, near Loa, where the nearest Wal-Mart is like 120 miles away, shitting in holes he dug and wiping his ass with juniper bark while evaluating his condition and what he wanted out of life. I'm thinking more people ought to do that -- not just addicts like Jack -- instead of seeing shrinks who charge $120 an hour to say, "Uh-huh, what do you think?" I would have benefitted from the program, I think, instead of being hopped up on legal drugs -- mother-fucking doctors.
Enough of that -- I'm being her guest, and a bad guest at that, what with all the colorful, fucking metaphors.
I am reminded of the stuff above because I was late to court today and one of the guys I had to deal with was a dumbass kid.
The judge assigned me the case. I met the kid today -- and when I say kid, I mean he's 18, in high school, and looks like he's 12. He is charged with underage consumption of alcohol, since the drinking age is 21.
He was late for school one day. He stayed over a friend's house and came to school with the friend, also 18. They had been up until 3, drinking beers. My client measured .19 on a breath test. He also had a 20-ounce can of Pabst in his backpack. Well, understand this -- this is all allegedly. Like it didn't happen in legal talk. You know how it is. You can't assume that any of this is true. No. No way. None of it is true. Yet.
So, I hypothetically ask him if he allegedly thinks that he has an imaginary problem with alcohol or drugs. Allegedly.
And he allegedly said to his alleged lawyer, "I don't know. Not really."
See, he said "not really," meaning what? That it was imaginary?
I said, hypothetically, that if he allegedly didn't know, then allegedly he does have an alleged substance abuse problem and he should go to the alleged drug abuse treatment center and get an alleged substance abuse assessment.
He is allegedly going to do that.
And get some alleged help for his "not really" problem.
beagle scout had her first puppy preschool class saturday, and the socializing with the other puppies has brought some unexpected results. it seems she learned from somepuppy what the fuck dew claws are. seems they are the PERFECT weapon to use on me when i'm trying to stop the puppy biting. we (the humans) were taught to hold the puppy's mouth closed from behind with the palm of our hands underneath the puppy face, fingers wrapped up and over the snout. gently, but firmly. saying no calmly until the puppy stops fighting and relaxes, trusting you and accepting your authority. scout just doesn't get it. i properly grab her (yes i do!), but she does not calm down. oh, i don't know. maybe i'm just not patient enough, and maybe i need to be clawed for several HOURS before she yields to my authority.
last night, i received several deep and painful wounds. and this tiny puppy has sharp claws -- like a fucking cat! [cats scare the shit out of me for this exact reason. that and their emotional disconnect.] and she's making noises like a trapped raccoon! have you ever HEARD a trapped raccoon? oh my god. the sounds and the clawing.
i think we (bill, scout, and i) are being over educated. i've raised dogs before. all without puppy preschool. i don't need her learning this stuff from the other puppies. i may go back to the old method. firm tap -- not a smack -- on the snout, with a "NO!" worked before. damned yuppy puppies.
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don't you love the line in the previews to that new movie (i can't remember the name -- sue me) where sally field says "never underestimate the power of a woman with a harvard law degree and a french manicure?" do you think to yourself -- as i do, "oh my god! that's stacey!" i've never heard a line that so PERFECTLY captured the essence of me, ever.
except for the harvard law degree thing. i don't have a harvard law degree. or any law degree. or even a college degree. but i DO have a couple years of engineering school under my belt, thank you very much. AND. my husband does have a law degree. not from harvard, though. and i PAID FOR IT!
and, except for the french manicure thing. BUT. i HAVE HAD french manicures. and i will probably have one again! in fact, i tried to make an appointment just yesterday! she was too busy to work me in this week, but i'll call her again next week, and then we'll see.
Nothing But Love
