ImPerceptibility

Archive for the ‘Too Much Caffeine?’ Category

The snow falls off the roof making a horrid scratching sound then crashing onto the ground. It only startled me but it made my dogs go nuts. Running in circles, barking and growling. This upsets the new kitten who decided to start racing up and down the hall and trying to climb up things. Like the curtain, the table cloth, my legs. Ouch! All the commotion distracts my daughter who was previously working quite contently on her math page. She starts trying to calm the kitten while I rub the scratches on my leg and try not to curse out loud. I yelled at the dogs to shut up. They deserved it. It takes about ten minutes to get everything back in order and youngest settled back to her school work. Then it happened again.

Only this time the cat pulled the table cloth off the table. Kinda like a magician’s trick except everything came off with the cloth instead of staying put. Also the aquatic frogs got bumped and now they are mad too. Thankfully, they are underwater so I can’t hear them bitching. It took 15 minutes this time to restore order but I managed. And yes, it did happen again. I don’t want to talk about it.

Instead I am going to take advantage of the finally clear roads in my neighborhood and drive to the craft store. This is part of my “organize your life plan” that I just now decided to make up. There is decoupaging involved in this plan. I feel like decoupaging some old shoe boxes and using them for storage. Maybe for a cat, I’m not sure. In case you were wondering, I’ve never been much of a decoupager but desperate times calls for drastic measures. Bring on the paste.

I took that long walk today. The one that starts out on a wide gravel road then it gets smaller and smaller. It becomes nothing more than a space between trees. Dark and foreboding full of imagined snakes and real spiders, vine covered trees, and shadows. All the things that books and movie use to foreshadow doom. I was scared to walk there without you but it didn’t stop me.

I came to the train tracks, then a tunnel entrance covered with years worth of weeds. Honey suckle, poison ivy, and morning glories. Many years ago we decided it might be a metaphor for life. God, we were trashed that day! The vines were dormant and leafless for the winter but I knew they would be back in a few months and I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to cross them when they blossomed. I stood there until I felt I would loose my nerve, then I made myself continue on.

I pushed through brush, ducked under branches and crawled over fallen trees. My walk was coming to an end and each step was just a little slower than the last. Just past the sharp turn. I just had to make it past there.

I closed my eyes and stepped into the clearing. When I opened them it was like I remembered – but different. It wasn’t quite the same. I scanned the large gaping holes where men had gouged the gravel and sand from the earth. When they had taken everything they wanted they left it unattended, ugly and broken, alone to fend for itself. We loved that ugly place. We loved it because it was ours. No one else ever went there.

All these years later and the wounds were starting to heal. Grass and trees have grown. Sharp edges were softer. The water a little less stagnant. The light was filtered by the trees and the harshness was giving way to a aged softness. I wondered for a minute if it was a metaphor for life and I wasn’t even trashed.

No one but you and me would know why I went there. Most days I think we are the only ones that would even understand. Maybe the only people that would even care. I stayed for a long time but the time I spent didn’t make up for the time I had been away. When it was time for me to go I left behind my tears, markings from a paint stick, and a mostly full bottle of strawberry wine.

The walk back was shorter than I’d though it would be.

Today the forecast calls for panic with a increased chance of extreme anxiety. Where the hell are my packages? You know the ones that have a lot of Youngest’s Christmas gifts, most of Oldest’s stuff, and ALL of MyHusband’s gifts.

I need to breathe. Deeply and slowly.

I thought I was done with Christmas shopping. I bought stuff on-line and I made the rounds to all the local shops for other gifts. I had everyone taken care of. I had a list. I checked it twice. I was organized and prepared. What was I thinking? Organized and prepared never works out for me.

Breathe. This is not the end of the world and there are a few more days until Christmas.

I was heartened when the UPS truck cruised through our neighborhood yesterday. Well until they drove right by my house without stopping.

I was sure The Post Office would deliver the other package yesterday. I mean people were out and about and the mail always gets through, right? Nope. Not a single mail truck sighting. Freakin’ wimps. You don’t get a snow day right before Christmas!

My Father-in-law will be here tomorrow. Luckily I bought his gift in November. Just need to wrap it.

I still need to get groceries. I need to finish baking. I need to wrap what I do have. I need to finish knitting a scarf and hat. I need to make another list. I need a shower. I need a beer. I need to get more beer ’cause we’re out and it’s way to early to start on the hard liquor. I need to finish cleaning the house. I need to hang the stockings by the chimney with care. I need a lot but no one is gonna give it to me so I better just get off my ass and get to work.

If you don’t hear from me I’m either frantically scrubbing toilets, washing towels, and wrapping presents or I’m passed out under the Christmas tree with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. Either way it’s all good. Have a great holiday!

P.S. Could someone please air drop me some Hershey kisses and diet coke? I’d be grateful.

[Disclaimer: Don't read this.  Seriously, don't read this.  I've listened to way too many Christmas songs and drank way too much diet coke today. It's sick and perverted.  You've been warned.]

A little know fact about me is that I was once one of Santa’s reindeer. I know you find this hard to believe, but it could be true, if it were true. And not only was I once a reindeer, I also had a very shiny nose. If you had see me back then you might have even thought it glowed. This an important part of the story so remember that. Nose glowed. Okay, now there is more to the story but it isn’t fit for children so be good for goodness sakes and don’t read this out loud to them on Christmas Eve.

Because of my nose and a few other obvious differences I was made fun of. Things like that happen but that didn’t make it any less hurtful. They didn’t even let me play in their reindeer games. Like Monopoly. I was left out, ostracized by the very deer that I hoped to make my friends. There was nowhere to turn. I had never felt more alone in my life. But things were about to change.

It was a foggy Christmas eve and I heard Santa calling me.

“Rudolph” he called.

My name isn’t Rudolph but I was okay with that. I mean, it hurts that Santa can’t remember my name, but I was alright with it. For the most part. Well, I learned to deal with it. I put on my happy face.

“Rudolph with your nose so bright” He continued, “Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight!”

I jumped to attention.

“Ohh yess, Santa, Yes. I will guide your sleigh tonight. I will guide your sleigh like it’s never been guided before. Give me that sleigh, Santa. Give it to me”

I stood there and waited as the jolly old elf, well, Lets just say, the chimney, he rose. Then he decided to speak.

“Damn girl. I wasn’t talkin ’bout all that now.”

The truth about Santa is that he is not a fat old white guy. He’s really a short skinny gangsta. Possibly from Atlanta but he doesn’t talk much about his old ‘hood. It was traumatic for him.

Now, a lot happened that foggy night and I am legally bound by my reindeer contract not to tell the whole story. They have their version of events and it’s a good version. So, lets just say that by the time I was finished, all the reindeer loved me. I mean, they really loved me. And I loved them too because I love peppermint. I really, really love peppermint. I ate peppermint sticks all night while they shouted out with glee.

Now, as fate would have it, I have gone down in history. But I don’t get any credit for it because Santa doesn’t even remember my name. It’s a sad life I live, but I’ll be fine. Just keep that peppermint coming.

I’ve decided that today is my day off. Everyone else gets them, so should I. I’ve been sitting on the couch most of the day.

I should probably go grocery shopping but there’s a box of spaghetti in the pantry.

Probably should vacuum the floor but there are Legos everywhere and they make a terrible noise when you suck them up in the vacuum

Might be a good idea to weed the other half of my garden but the weeds will be there tomorrow.

I haven’t throw a ball for the dogs in awhile but they just keep bringing the durn thing back. They’re never satisfied.

I cooked some wheat berries for a loaf of bread last night but they’ll keep for a few days in the fridge.

I did get dressed today, around noon.

I did get a new high score on bejeweled blitz.

I did tell my kids they could have popcorn for lunch.

A few minutes ago I opened my new pack of fine point markers that I bought yesterday. Then I found my tiny little sketch book with the black cover. I’m going to draw all kinds of little things, naughty secret things in it. Then I’m gonna hide it back where no one will ever find it. (In the oatmeal container)

But I’m not going to do that right now. First I’m going to take my youngest to the skate shop so she’ll stop coming in every thirty minutes and reminding me she needs to get grip tape. Then I’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home and pick up something for dinner. Then I’ll finish weeding the garden while dinner is cooking. On the way back in I’ll throw the ball for the dogs so they’ll stop acting stupid. The bread dough will get mixed up while I’m cleaning up the kitchen. It can rise overnight in the fridge.

I am not gonna vacuum though. I’m just not going to do it. It’s my day off!

I’m not sure how my trip through he past landed me there. He was sitting on a dock drinking a beer and there were a bunch of empty cans around him. I thought, “Man, I used to change his diapers” I wondered if I’d embarrass him if I told all the little girlies flirting with him that I’d seen him naked. I wondered if he still had that little birth mark on the back of his thigh, just under his cute little bottom. I remembered how he’d sit in my lap with his head on my chest and suck his thumb until he fell asleep and how he’d get mad and throw the most awesome fits when he didn’t get his way. He was the sweetest little thing. A bad boy. One of my favorites.

Then I clicked through to the next picture. That’s when I realized I wouldn’t be embarrassing anyone with my revelation. His birthmark was still right there where I remembered it and it seems he has upgraded in other areas since the last time I saw him.

I closed the page. I know there is no way to unsee that, but I’m trying. God damn, I’m trying.

Mommy that hobo is pathetic.

That’s what my daughter told me a few nights ago. I was expecting her to be sad. Her tender and loving heart hurt by the thought of someone with so little that they had to stand in front of the mall and beg passing cars for change.

You see, she’s the kid that picks worms up out of the road and puts them back in the garden after it rains because she doesn’t want them to die in the sun. She checks the SPCA page every few months to make sure the pets have been adopted. I buy icee pops in bulk because she makes sure everyone in the neighborhood has an icee pop on hot days. She doesn’t want anyone to feel left out. She’s my baby and I love her ability to look at a situation and decide what needs to be done to make it better.

“Absolutely pathetic!” she continued with a hint of contempt in her voice. Myhusband and I looked at each other questioningly as she continued.

Does he really think I’m going to fall for that?

First: He has a printed sign. It was printed on a computer and it’s in a plastic report cover. Hobos have to scrounge through the restaurant trash and find a crayon then write a handwritten sign on a piece of cardboard.

Second: He has a brand new backpack. It’s nicer than mine.

Third : You never see hobos walking on this road he must drive from somewhere and park in the parking lot. How did he buy a car if he’s a hobo?

Fourth : He has new shoes.

Fifth: He’s not hungry because he’s fat!

I was a little stunned and instead of looking in the other direction I looked at the man she was so harshly judging. I must say, I think she’s right.

I’ve wondered about the men that stand at the light in front of the mall. They are always there. I’ve wondered if they have a schedule to determine who works when.

We put money in the tip jars even if we only got a lemonade. We drop bills in the hat of street musicians. We give food and money to local food banks. I once threw a $20 bill behind an old man that couldn’t pay for his groceries at the checkout and insisted that I had seen it fall out of his pocket. But I’ve never given a dime to the hobos in front of the mall. I doubt I will.

Today my daughter told me she had seen the hobo from the mall texting someone on his cell phone. He had a Starbucks cup sitting beside him. I had to giggle. She shook her head.

Pathetic! I said and she giggled back.

Come on guys. If you want our money you need to do better than that! Get an old hat. Maybe a harmonica or somethin’. Buy your coffee from 7-11. Stop carrying around $100 backpacks. You have a reputation to uphold and you are making my child jaded. I expect better!

I thought I saw you. You were just around the corner, entering the room I had just walked away from. I wasn’t sure it was you and I felt too shy to go back and find out. So I continued on. My thoughts were not on the present. They weren’t on the past or the future either. I guess they were in a holding pattern circling a tiny seed of opportunity and I let my self-doubt crumble it into a powder. The opportunity scattered and it was sucked into the past as I slowly walked away.

I’m too old for heroes. The people you look up to, not the tasty sandwich. Sandwiches fill your belly with tasty goodness and heroes fill your head with dreams. They leave trails in the sand that you can follow until you find your own way. But eventually they will let you down, break your heart because heroes aren’t real people. They just aren’t real and I wanted you to be real but I didn’t trust you enough to allow you that opportunity. I didn’t want to be disappointed.  I was also afraid that you would reject me. Maybe you’d see that I’m not what I try so hard to be. Sometimes it’s better to keep it safe than keep it real. So I walked on.

I think it’s good that I have sense of humor because I was studying pictures of heroes when I saw you again. You walked past me for a closer look at a display. I watched you and when you turned toward me I smiled. You frowned back at me. I had expected that. It was a thoughtful, contemplative frown. I have the same one. It’s very off-putting to people that don’t understand but it thrilled me. I tried to think of something to say but I couldn’t. That one girl kinda scared me. Her frown wasn’t contemplative. I worried that she misunderstood my intentions. I turned and listened to someone else and let my heart ache just a little as I made my way down another hallway and into a noisier more active place. I berated myself for being so inept. Then I walked out the door.

A train went overhead as I waited outside. It was loud and fast and urgent. I understood that feeling but refused to acknowledge it. I waved at a man fishing in the river. I looked at the graffiti. I listened to “that” song on my iPod. Then I went home and spent the rest of the evening in my garden.

Maybe another day. Maybe not. I suppose time will tell. Maybe we could have lunch down by the river… I could bring hero sandwiches. You could bring your girls I could bring my girls and we could all smile until the mosquitos came out.

I know there was something. I try to remember but it doesn’t all come to me clearly. It was just too long ago. Sometimes I see river banks, poison ivy, and beer bottles. Other times I see ocean waves, sand, and blenders. Most of the time I see nothing but I feel a longing. A longing for something I wish had been there but I know it wasn’t. It wasn’t there but we all pretended.

On a good night, or maybe a bad night depending on your perspective, I see many things. Flashes of a past that I forced my way through and didn’t push against any of you hard enough to find my own way. I don’t regret it. I just sometimes wish it was different. That’s not regret, right?

A few of the more ridiculous flashes from the past:

Trucks in the mud and sailor caps
Corn chips, hot dogs, and beer
An abandoned home made our playground
A sink ripped off the wall
What the hell were we thinking?

Spinning bottles after tasting wine
Bouncing quarters
Smoke in the air
Wet sloppy kisses after I tackled you on the floor
I loved how you begged me for more
I loved how the others were jealous
I loved you too much to fuck you
That’s just the way it was.

Interrupted by sirens and lights.
Running fast, then faster
I fell and scraped my knee
They never caught us
We’d meet again
I think I heard them laughing.
Damn cops.

Bulldozers making new roads
lots where soon there’d be homes
A pickup parked at the end
I painted a picture for you
Then I threw it away
I should have burned it

I thought I was, but I wasn’t the bad guy
Everyone but you and me knew that.
I finally figured it out
Too bad you never did

Stupid fucking bastard!
I hated you when I shoved you into the wall
How’d we end up doing that?
Why’d you keep coming back?
Why did you stop?
More importantly, why’d you break my monkey lamp?

There’s more but I won’t torture you guys anymore. Anyone want to flash me? I haven’t been flashed in awhile. I haven’t been asked to flash anyone lately either. What’s up with that?

I can’t believe the school year is almost over. Less than two months and I get to have my oldest back at home with me. I’m really looking forward to it and I’m counting down the days. She’s such a fun kid and her little sister misses her a lot more than she would ever admit to. We haven’t discussed next year but I think she’ll probably go back to public school. She’s made a bunch of friends and enjoys all her classes. Even English. She’s definitely grown up in the last year. Or maybe me not standing over her shoulder all the time gave me enough room to see that she’s growing up. It’s hard to tell about those things. I don’t have a problem with her going back to school next year. She’s happy and learning, but I’m seriously aggravated with the school system itself.  Public Schools suck!

I don’t know what the hell has happened to public schools since I was a kid but they need to get their act together. Maybe it’s all the hippyish teaching philosophies or some new educational technique but they are not on the ball. What happened to the boring classrooms with desks all in a row and mind numbing posters on the walls? What’s up with the tables and chairs. Why are these kids working together in groups? You should not have basketball playoff charts hanging on the wall! That’s what I do. I’m an educational anarchist. You are not. You are a school and you should try and look like one.

And aren’t teachers supposed to be old and have moles with hair sticking out of them. What’s up with hiring 24yo cuties to teach history. JFC! He even looks sweet in a sweater vest. Good thing my oldest isn’t into boys yet. She’d never learn a thing. The other teachers aren’t any better. Walking around smiling and interacting with the kids. I even saw one of them telling the kids jokes. You are supposed to be in the teachers lounge smoking cigarettes and complaining. This is unacceptable.

Don’t even get me started on the homework. My oldest spends about 30-40 minutes a week working on homework and she likes the projects and assignments. Creating book jackets, making her own math reference book, and building model airplanes are my territory. Your assignments need to take this form : Complete all the odd problems on page 256. Read pages 192-365 and answer the review question in complete sentences. I don’t think my oldest has even opened her Math book. Freakin’ slackers! Creative assignments have no place in a school. Get back to the books.

Don’t get me started on the extra credit projects, enrichment activities, or fun Friday. You don’t show kids movies and call it school. Educational anarchists do that. Cut it out and also stop letting them use the internet for research. Technology is not for schools. Eleven year old school children shouldn’t be making power point presentations. Playing Dance Dance Revolution in PE class is just wrong! Push-ups and running laps in the heat. Sit-ups and kick ball in the mud. Get with the program.

Then there is the bullying and violence. You guys need to step it up. She heard there was a fight one day in the cafeteria but she didn’t see it. She thinks the eigth graders sometimes fight but she’s not sure. No one has stolen any lunch money either. A fat kid did steal her snack cake out of her lunch but she left her lunchbox out in the hall and she figured it was fair game. He did leave the Cheez-its so she was okay with it. Public schools are breeding grounds for violence and bullying. I expect better!

But mostly, you need to stop making her like school. School is not fun. Get it straight. You bunch of asses. I let her go school so she would appreciate what she already had. You went and took it, then made it better. Screw you!

My only hope now is that she’ll get bored with her classes and want to come back home. Maybe take some classes at the community college in a few years. So cut out the advanced classes and that differentiated instruction crap. You want to make a mother cry, you jerks?