Older Girl is off to the prom tonight. Be still my heart!
Friday, April 28, 2006
What's Wrong with Me?
It's all about what she didn't say.
So many people focus solely on the words that are spoken. The stinging barbs or the subtle phrases with the intonations that belie the actual words.
I've always been sensitive to What Wasn't Said. The absence of words that communicate an entire story. Case in point: The home study report.
"Husband is a handsome, mature and responsible person with an easy-going manner. He is creative, outgoing and compassionate. Husband is considerate, supportive, loyal and rational. He has the ability to maintain long-term relationships and has a strong commitment to family and becoming a father. Husband's intelligence, stability and compassion will make him an excellent adoptive father.
"Jill is a well-groomed, active, goal-oriented and competitive woman. She describes herself as self-confident and responsible with good interpersonal skills. Jill gives the impression of being somewhat introverted, and she enjoys making beaded jewelry."
There is no mention about me being an excellent adoptive parent. Not even a good one. No direct recommendation. No descriptive High-Five. No mention about me being a good mother.
There is an entire paragraph about Husband's compassion - and nothing about mine. I sound like a cold, steel robot who had a messed-up childhood. And because I worked for 3 companies for just over 2 years...I've been pegged as having an Occupational History of "concern." WTF?
OK. I can get over the fact that she put my weight on the front page. But the write-up about me is so...so...gah. I don't even have the words. And apparently, there is something very wrong with me for never yearning/aching to be pregnant.
Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Abby-Normal.
The fact that I'm dying to have kids doesn't count. The fact that I'm caretaking my parents and a niece doesn't give me compassion or understanding or show a relationship with my extended family. Husband talks to his parents 3 times a month, but they are "extremely close." RRRRRRight.
Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Somehow, I have got to just package this up into a box and place it on a shelf. It will still be there in my mind, but it's not going to make me stumble or slow me down in this process...dammit.
So many people focus solely on the words that are spoken. The stinging barbs or the subtle phrases with the intonations that belie the actual words.
I've always been sensitive to What Wasn't Said. The absence of words that communicate an entire story. Case in point: The home study report.
"Husband is a handsome, mature and responsible person with an easy-going manner. He is creative, outgoing and compassionate. Husband is considerate, supportive, loyal and rational. He has the ability to maintain long-term relationships and has a strong commitment to family and becoming a father. Husband's intelligence, stability and compassion will make him an excellent adoptive father.
"Jill is a well-groomed, active, goal-oriented and competitive woman. She describes herself as self-confident and responsible with good interpersonal skills. Jill gives the impression of being somewhat introverted, and she enjoys making beaded jewelry."
There is no mention about me being an excellent adoptive parent. Not even a good one. No direct recommendation. No descriptive High-Five. No mention about me being a good mother.
There is an entire paragraph about Husband's compassion - and nothing about mine. I sound like a cold, steel robot who had a messed-up childhood. And because I worked for 3 companies for just over 2 years...I've been pegged as having an Occupational History of "concern." WTF?
OK. I can get over the fact that she put my weight on the front page. But the write-up about me is so...so...gah. I don't even have the words. And apparently, there is something very wrong with me for never yearning/aching to be pregnant.
Hello. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Abby-Normal.
The fact that I'm dying to have kids doesn't count. The fact that I'm caretaking my parents and a niece doesn't give me compassion or understanding or show a relationship with my extended family. Husband talks to his parents 3 times a month, but they are "extremely close." RRRRRRight.
Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever. Whatever.
Somehow, I have got to just package this up into a box and place it on a shelf. It will still be there in my mind, but it's not going to make me stumble or slow me down in this process...dammit.
Mission Impossible: Domestica
Husband and I celebrated our 11th Anniversary in late March, and since then, Older Girl has asked us to "leave the house" so she could give us our Anniversary present.
Last night, Husband and I went to see a production of Man of La Mancha and we were gone for about 5 hours. We came home to a beautiful, highly organized pantry.
It must have taken this poor kid hours to clean.
Dammit, my heart hurts. I don't want to let her go. I don't want her to go back to living in squalor with zero supervision and encouragement (yes, encouragement...from both parents) to sleep with multiple guys just for the helluva it. I don't want to see her choose drugs to help her deal with reality. And I hate the idea of her being exposed to her parent's "friends." Druggie, Gambling-Addicted Rat Bastards.
If a childless, maternal-wannabe woman cries from her soul in an empty house...does anybody hear?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Must. Get. Dog.
I have never owned a dog and the idea has been tugging on my brain for about a year. My hesitation is that several friends have recommended that we wait after we get the baby...because the dog will be better behaved and not as territorial.
Patience is not my thing, but I'm holding out. I want both of the dogs pictured above.
Monday, April 24, 2006
You speak as though you fully understand me and my situation. You're an Authority on my life circumstances, and you gladly share your Opinion in the middle of an otherwise benign conversation.
I've always been the Do-Wrong girl, haven't I? Despite my accomplishments, my stability, my responsibilities, the awards, the earnings, the happy marriage and the contributions to others.
I'm the one who came to your house on three separate occasions to improve your life because you weren't able to do it. I dragged all six mattress sets out of the living room to the dumpster. I shredded the piles of bills and letters that filled three rooms. I scrubbed the mold on your bathroom walls and subjected myself to more than half a dozen black widow spiders. I cleaned the heaps and heaps and heaps of laundry that sat in piles in your bedrooms for more than 4 years. I vacuumed the spider webs out of the couch and the baseboards, and I bought you new sheets - because you didn't have any. I also bought you the new washer, dryer, stove, garbage disposal, kitchen faucet and oven...because none of them worked. (BTW, how did you live without running water in the kitchen for so long?)
I try to take it in stride when you praise Ann and Denise for all they have done for you.
But I'm the one who did the grunt work. Because I couldn't stand seeing you live in the squalor. And I believed that it contributed to your depression and slow decay, and I wanted to save you from the misery of living in a trash heap.
I'm not interested in keeping score and I truly have never expected any thanks. I just wanted your life to improve.
So please stop judging me and telling me that I have to Fix My Shortcomings.
You're not fully aware of my situation. And your harsh criticism is especially stinging when I reflect on the fact that you're a hypocrite. All that you accuse me of has been a huge fault of yours...and far worse than anything that I have done or haven't done. Try to remember that I'm recovering from burnout and supreme grief. I don't want to work right now, so leave me the hell alone. A little effort on your part would go a long way.
I am stunned that you lack humility. Perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to judge if you were aware of your shortcomings as a father and husband. It's difficult to hear you assess yourself so highly...you've certainly never lack self-confidence, that's for sure. Perhaps you should try to remember these few facts:
You never held a job for more than a year.
You abandoned your family so you could sit up the street and spy on us.
You took all of the money and left us on welfare.
You terrorized my mother with listening devices and video cameras.
You were freakish to sit at the kitchen table all night with a loaded gun.
You shattered my foundation with the dna test request.
Your public insults to mom embarrassed us all.
You lived in a house with piles of trash and trails through each room.
I thought that you and I would grow closer to one another again if you moved in with us. Sadly, it hasn't happened. I was wrong to think that I could repeat my experience with JoMama.
You are quite a different person.
I've always been the Do-Wrong girl, haven't I? Despite my accomplishments, my stability, my responsibilities, the awards, the earnings, the happy marriage and the contributions to others.
I'm the one who came to your house on three separate occasions to improve your life because you weren't able to do it. I dragged all six mattress sets out of the living room to the dumpster. I shredded the piles of bills and letters that filled three rooms. I scrubbed the mold on your bathroom walls and subjected myself to more than half a dozen black widow spiders. I cleaned the heaps and heaps and heaps of laundry that sat in piles in your bedrooms for more than 4 years. I vacuumed the spider webs out of the couch and the baseboards, and I bought you new sheets - because you didn't have any. I also bought you the new washer, dryer, stove, garbage disposal, kitchen faucet and oven...because none of them worked. (BTW, how did you live without running water in the kitchen for so long?)
I try to take it in stride when you praise Ann and Denise for all they have done for you.
But I'm the one who did the grunt work. Because I couldn't stand seeing you live in the squalor. And I believed that it contributed to your depression and slow decay, and I wanted to save you from the misery of living in a trash heap.
I'm not interested in keeping score and I truly have never expected any thanks. I just wanted your life to improve.
So please stop judging me and telling me that I have to Fix My Shortcomings.
You're not fully aware of my situation. And your harsh criticism is especially stinging when I reflect on the fact that you're a hypocrite. All that you accuse me of has been a huge fault of yours...and far worse than anything that I have done or haven't done. Try to remember that I'm recovering from burnout and supreme grief. I don't want to work right now, so leave me the hell alone. A little effort on your part would go a long way.
I am stunned that you lack humility. Perhaps you wouldn't be so quick to judge if you were aware of your shortcomings as a father and husband. It's difficult to hear you assess yourself so highly...you've certainly never lack self-confidence, that's for sure. Perhaps you should try to remember these few facts:
You never held a job for more than a year.
You abandoned your family so you could sit up the street and spy on us.
You took all of the money and left us on welfare.
You terrorized my mother with listening devices and video cameras.
You were freakish to sit at the kitchen table all night with a loaded gun.
You shattered my foundation with the dna test request.
Your public insults to mom embarrassed us all.
You lived in a house with piles of trash and trails through each room.
I thought that you and I would grow closer to one another again if you moved in with us. Sadly, it hasn't happened. I was wrong to think that I could repeat my experience with JoMama.
You are quite a different person.
Friday, April 21, 2006
She's an Ignoramous
Older Girl is still in love with her first boyfriend. Trouble is, he's in a juvenile workcamp in California because he's been busted smoking pot, drinking and destroying private property, etc. He's a Troublemaker with an unknown (but most likely bleak) future, but she isn't able to make that distinction. She only sees his "good heart" and not his actions. Older Girl is convinced that he will be different when he gets out of jail.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that her sights are set so low.
I suppose I shouldn't be so shocked when I hear her talk to her boyfriend's mother and discuss having her "grandbabies."
In the meantime, she'll tell me to my face that she won't ever date him again, yada yada yada. All of the stuff that she knows that I want to hear. Playing the system to get everything that she wants.
There is nothing that I can do to help this girl.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised that her sights are set so low.
I suppose I shouldn't be so shocked when I hear her talk to her boyfriend's mother and discuss having her "grandbabies."
In the meantime, she'll tell me to my face that she won't ever date him again, yada yada yada. All of the stuff that she knows that I want to hear. Playing the system to get everything that she wants.
There is nothing that I can do to help this girl.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Snippets
Today is the anniversary of the Columbine massacre in Littleton, Colorado. Even though we don't live in that town, someone at Older Girl's high school has left threatening messages around the campus that something similar would happen today. Yes, they have heightened security and extra police officers onsite today. And no, Older Girl is not going to school. After chatting with the counseling office yesterday, I'm satisfied that threats really were made (not just rumors) and being new at this....I'd rather be safe than sorry.
Older Girl has a heavy workload in front of her today in lieu of going to school: Clean the kitchen, fold the laundry, wash the car and help me plant flowers.
I sold 8 pieces of jewelry yesterday during the launch of my new spring/summer line at a local store. If I could do that everyday, I'd net $50,000 annually. Sadly, I'm only tracking to make about $6,000 this year...so far.
Spent one excruciating hour at a government office to obtain my business license. The clerk busted my yams because I still have a California driver's license. This was after I waited in line with a group of surly individuals...while she ran out twice to get sodas for her boss. Afterward, I was trapped in my car on several streets while thousands of kids protested the immigration law issues down at the capitol.
I am fascinated by www.dialidol.com and their success rate at predicting who will be kicked off the show. Basically, they have computerized dialing that measures the busy signal frequency per contestant...and from that they are able to predict the voting rank with 82% accuracy. I was so relieved to see the results on their website yesterday before the broadcast. I am a staunch supporter of Elliott and didn't want to see him bite the dust. Phew! It's the first week that I actually picked up the phone and voted. I didn't want Simon's prediction to come true.
It's a gorgeous day here in Colorado. I'm outta here to go enjoy the sunshine.
Older Girl has a heavy workload in front of her today in lieu of going to school: Clean the kitchen, fold the laundry, wash the car and help me plant flowers.
I sold 8 pieces of jewelry yesterday during the launch of my new spring/summer line at a local store. If I could do that everyday, I'd net $50,000 annually. Sadly, I'm only tracking to make about $6,000 this year...so far.
Spent one excruciating hour at a government office to obtain my business license. The clerk busted my yams because I still have a California driver's license. This was after I waited in line with a group of surly individuals...while she ran out twice to get sodas for her boss. Afterward, I was trapped in my car on several streets while thousands of kids protested the immigration law issues down at the capitol.
I am fascinated by www.dialidol.com and their success rate at predicting who will be kicked off the show. Basically, they have computerized dialing that measures the busy signal frequency per contestant...and from that they are able to predict the voting rank with 82% accuracy. I was so relieved to see the results on their website yesterday before the broadcast. I am a staunch supporter of Elliott and didn't want to see him bite the dust. Phew! It's the first week that I actually picked up the phone and voted. I didn't want Simon's prediction to come true.
It's a gorgeous day here in Colorado. I'm outta here to go enjoy the sunshine.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
I spent a significant amount of time explaining the cause and effect of portraying oneself sexually when one is only 15 years old. I also asked why she indicated that she was 18 years old and loves alcohol.
Jill: Sweetness, I hate to see you reduce yourself to that. There is so much more to you. And at 15 years old, you have no business having this kind of information on your site.
Older Girl: Why? I liked it. I think it's hott.
Jill: I understand that. And at your age, you're buzzing around, doing your own thing. But very soon, you're going to realize the importance of how people "peg you" and the impact that it will have on your life. No one, and I mean no one, reaches any measure of success all by themselves. It takes the wisdom and knowledge and help of other people to grow and realize the opportunities that are placed before us. So it genuinely matters what impact you have on others. And this sort of thing completely reduces you to nothing more than something sexual.
Older Girl: I don't care what other people think. They are not going to change who I am. I am not going to bend to be something that they want me to be.
Jill: Listen. It will always be important to be true to who you are. But, you also need to understand what impact you have on other people, because they will have an impact on your life...for better or for worse.
Older Girl: But I should be able to do whatever I want on this website. It's called my space....My Space. Not yours or anyone else's.
Jill: Sigh. Okay. Let's get down to the bottom line. It's completely inappropriate and unacceptable for you to have a porn poem on your site. You're 15 years old. I understand that you've been raised with a different set of morals and encouragement by your parents...
Older Girl: Mom took me to Fredericks of Hollywood at Christmas and bought me an Angel Outfit. It was a sheer little teddy with a garter and stockings and a little halo made out of a feather boa.
Jill: Why.
Older Girl: Because I'd lost my virginity and she thought it would be a really cool Christmas present for my boyfriend. But he stood me up that night. So mom let me go to a party in the outfit instead. A drinking party.
Jill: Sweetheart. I don't agree with any of that and it would never, ever happen here with me. You are a beautiful, wonderful kid with a good heart. You're smart and funny and you will be able to make an incredible life for yourself...if you make the right choices. And it starts right now. Here's the bottom line: Delete the poem, change your age to 15 and delete the alcohol blurb. Or you lose your cell phone and all internet access. Period.
Older Girl: Okay.
I got the Silent Treatment for about 5 hours...and then she came up to me and planted a huge hug and kiss on me. Older Girl and I have a long way to go. I don't know what the future holds for her in terms of where she is going to live going forward. But, she has finally agreed to talk to a lawyer to discuss the options.
This is a huge step, and I have to be careful to not become too attached to any potential outcome. I don't want to see her go back into that environment, and I will worry about her incessantly if it happens. I'm already sick to my stomach over the fate of the 4 year old.
Dammit. Ignorance was bliss...for us. And pure hell for these poor kids.
Jill: Sweetness, I hate to see you reduce yourself to that. There is so much more to you. And at 15 years old, you have no business having this kind of information on your site.
Older Girl: Why? I liked it. I think it's hott.
Jill: I understand that. And at your age, you're buzzing around, doing your own thing. But very soon, you're going to realize the importance of how people "peg you" and the impact that it will have on your life. No one, and I mean no one, reaches any measure of success all by themselves. It takes the wisdom and knowledge and help of other people to grow and realize the opportunities that are placed before us. So it genuinely matters what impact you have on others. And this sort of thing completely reduces you to nothing more than something sexual.
Older Girl: I don't care what other people think. They are not going to change who I am. I am not going to bend to be something that they want me to be.
Jill: Listen. It will always be important to be true to who you are. But, you also need to understand what impact you have on other people, because they will have an impact on your life...for better or for worse.
Older Girl: But I should be able to do whatever I want on this website. It's called my space....My Space. Not yours or anyone else's.
Jill: Sigh. Okay. Let's get down to the bottom line. It's completely inappropriate and unacceptable for you to have a porn poem on your site. You're 15 years old. I understand that you've been raised with a different set of morals and encouragement by your parents...
Older Girl: Mom took me to Fredericks of Hollywood at Christmas and bought me an Angel Outfit. It was a sheer little teddy with a garter and stockings and a little halo made out of a feather boa.
Jill: Why.
Older Girl: Because I'd lost my virginity and she thought it would be a really cool Christmas present for my boyfriend. But he stood me up that night. So mom let me go to a party in the outfit instead. A drinking party.
Jill: Sweetheart. I don't agree with any of that and it would never, ever happen here with me. You are a beautiful, wonderful kid with a good heart. You're smart and funny and you will be able to make an incredible life for yourself...if you make the right choices. And it starts right now. Here's the bottom line: Delete the poem, change your age to 15 and delete the alcohol blurb. Or you lose your cell phone and all internet access. Period.
Older Girl: Okay.
I got the Silent Treatment for about 5 hours...and then she came up to me and planted a huge hug and kiss on me. Older Girl and I have a long way to go. I don't know what the future holds for her in terms of where she is going to live going forward. But, she has finally agreed to talk to a lawyer to discuss the options.
This is a huge step, and I have to be careful to not become too attached to any potential outcome. I don't want to see her go back into that environment, and I will worry about her incessantly if it happens. I'm already sick to my stomach over the fate of the 4 year old.
Dammit. Ignorance was bliss...for us. And pure hell for these poor kids.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Older Girl spends a significant amount of time on the Internet to keep in touch with her California friends.
Yesterday, she accidentally left my office without logging-out on her My Space site. So there I was, looking at her profile page, which I've done with her several times. I was pleased to see that she had deleted the risque photos of her eating the end of a banana...with her best friend noshing on the other end. Both gazing straight into the camera with their biggest, doe-eyed looks. It was ridiculous.
So there I was, checking out her site and I spotted the Blog and Poem links. I discovered that Older Girl has posted an XXX rated poem to her site, which is visible to all of her friends...both new and old.
Yes, she's 15, yes she had sex when she was 14, and yes I am angry and saddened and alarmed. This poem is explicit, and she doesn't realize the implications or affect that this can have on her and others.
I realize that Older Girl was raised by a woman who held zero boundaries with sex, so I'm prepared that she won't understand the gravity of this posting. But here's the Good News: As long as she lives in our home, the Porn Poem goes. Or there is no access to the Internet and no cell phone.
Tomorrow, we chat.
Yesterday, she accidentally left my office without logging-out on her My Space site. So there I was, looking at her profile page, which I've done with her several times. I was pleased to see that she had deleted the risque photos of her eating the end of a banana...with her best friend noshing on the other end. Both gazing straight into the camera with their biggest, doe-eyed looks. It was ridiculous.
So there I was, checking out her site and I spotted the Blog and Poem links. I discovered that Older Girl has posted an XXX rated poem to her site, which is visible to all of her friends...both new and old.
Yes, she's 15, yes she had sex when she was 14, and yes I am angry and saddened and alarmed. This poem is explicit, and she doesn't realize the implications or affect that this can have on her and others.
I realize that Older Girl was raised by a woman who held zero boundaries with sex, so I'm prepared that she won't understand the gravity of this posting. But here's the Good News: As long as she lives in our home, the Porn Poem goes. Or there is no access to the Internet and no cell phone.
Tomorrow, we chat.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Telephone conversation with the wife of my husband's brother (mother of Older Girl and Sweet Girl), aka Sister-In-Law:
Jill: Your mom called from California today. She's trying to reach you because she has an emergency situation.
SIL: Oh really? What?
Jill: Well, she was sobbing. Apparently she took out some debt for your sister, who is unable to pay her back. You mom said that she needs $2,500 or she's going to jail.
SIL: HA! HaHaHaHa! Is she crazy? She wants me to give her $2,500?
Jill: Yes. But she needs you to call her first so she can explain her situation.
SIL: HA! HaHaHaHa!
Jill: SIL, she was seriously upset, crying, and frustrated that she doesn't have your number or know how to reach you.
SIL: Well, I'm not giving her $2,500.
Jill: Can you please call her? Also, what's up in Kansas? I heard that you were buying a 3 bedroom house?
SIL: Well maybe, or we might buy two houses. We're trying to decide.
Jill: Listen, you idiot. Husband and I have personally given you more than $15,000 to bail you out of your IRS problems, put food on your table and clothe your kids. That's in addition to all of the money the rest of the family has given to you. And none of us have ever asked you to pay us back. Now, you're talking about buying two houses, but you can't even have enough compassion to call your mother and find out why she's in such a desperate situation? It's $2,500 lousy dollars. You lack gratitude and decency and your selfishness overwhelms me. If it wasn't for your kids, we would have nothing to do with either of you, you stinking drug addicted, alcoholic, child abusing idiot.
Okay, I didn't actually say that last part....but its been running through my mind ever since we had that conversation. If I actually speak my mind to these people, I'll never see the kids again.
I genuinely dislike this woman. I don't care that she's a former prostitute. But I do care that she tells Older Girl that she cheated on her husband - Older Girl's father. She's an idiot. Period.
Jill: Your mom called from California today. She's trying to reach you because she has an emergency situation.
SIL: Oh really? What?
Jill: Well, she was sobbing. Apparently she took out some debt for your sister, who is unable to pay her back. You mom said that she needs $2,500 or she's going to jail.
SIL: HA! HaHaHaHa! Is she crazy? She wants me to give her $2,500?
Jill: Yes. But she needs you to call her first so she can explain her situation.
SIL: HA! HaHaHaHa!
Jill: SIL, she was seriously upset, crying, and frustrated that she doesn't have your number or know how to reach you.
SIL: Well, I'm not giving her $2,500.
Jill: Can you please call her? Also, what's up in Kansas? I heard that you were buying a 3 bedroom house?
SIL: Well maybe, or we might buy two houses. We're trying to decide.
Jill: Listen, you idiot. Husband and I have personally given you more than $15,000 to bail you out of your IRS problems, put food on your table and clothe your kids. That's in addition to all of the money the rest of the family has given to you. And none of us have ever asked you to pay us back. Now, you're talking about buying two houses, but you can't even have enough compassion to call your mother and find out why she's in such a desperate situation? It's $2,500 lousy dollars. You lack gratitude and decency and your selfishness overwhelms me. If it wasn't for your kids, we would have nothing to do with either of you, you stinking drug addicted, alcoholic, child abusing idiot.
Okay, I didn't actually say that last part....but its been running through my mind ever since we had that conversation. If I actually speak my mind to these people, I'll never see the kids again.
I genuinely dislike this woman. I don't care that she's a former prostitute. But I do care that she tells Older Girl that she cheated on her husband - Older Girl's father. She's an idiot. Period.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
The Agony & The Ecstasy is Very Real, People
I have 20 new jewelry pieces to deliver to a retail site today. Eyes, fingers and toes are crossed!
I have made the pieces smaller, with fewer high-priced items such as the Buddha clasp that costs $13.00 wholesale. Once that amount is tripled, you're looking at about $85.00 per piece minimum. So, I've ramped things down to hit a new retail price threshold of $35.00 to $59.00.
Sales of the original pieces have been strong, but I'd like to increase my overall sales volume substantially.
I never understood the internal agony that artists experience in selling their work. I've always been a sales manager so I felt strongly (gloated) that selling the items had to be the easiest part of the process. Then I started to make my very own art works and I was spoon-fed one big 'ol piece of Humble Pie.
Rejection of one's creative output is terrible. It's personal and painful and I resist having to sell my pieces to shop owners. Consequently, I have hired several friends to rep my products for me. So far, it's working.
It's pathetic to have ever called myself a sales person, really.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
One Year Ago...
My mom was in the hospital, weighing-in at only 80lbs. The RNs had her strapped into her bed with a little, blue, plaid apron. She was miserable, and she begged me to let her run away.
A discharge planner called me to talk about hospice care for mom. I was heartbroken.
Husband and I met with a real estate agent to talk about selling our home in the Bay Area. We weren't really sure about moving yet - just exploring the possibilities. But, I knew deep down in my heart that we both needed something new, a change of pace. We simply couldn't figure out how to make it happen with mom being so sick.
I was still employed, but I was on medical leave to take care of my mom. I was supremely exhausted and sick - easily the worst shape that I have ever been in.
I was depressed and crying throughout the day. Still in shock from my sister's death, I couldn't fathom how my mom could pass away too. And I wasn't willing to let her go. I'd become a participant in her fight to live forever. Even after she had given up, I remained vigilant with doctors, meds, bandages, Neosporine, canned peaches....anything and everything to keep her alive. Dammit.
Thank Gawd I wasn't there when she passed away. She did it quietly and peacefully and with grace. All of the things that I lacked, because I was out of my mind crazy with grief.
Just over a year ago, we started packing up my sister's and mom's belongings so that their homes could be sold. Their long-standing phone numbers were disconnected. The items that they cherished were given to other family members or donated to a woman's shelter. All tangible pieces from their lives were dispersed and in some ways...erased. And I guess that is where we will all end-up. Existing in memories only until those people die too.
I was going to blog about my new life, the incredible newness that awaits us with each and every day. The fact that hope springs eternal, and all that we really need to do is hold on, hold out and wait for that new day to begin.
But the heaviness of last year has daunted me for the moment. I am still so sad, so sad, so sad. I miss my mom and sister and I just don't know how to reconcile it. I don't want to wax poetic about their impact on other people's lives or their goodness or yada yada yada. While all of it is true, it's a Imposter Salve. It supposedly makes everything feel better, but truly, deep down, it doesn't help. My sister and my mom are gone and I miss them and I will probably feel this way forever.
My mom was in the hospital, weighing-in at only 80lbs. The RNs had her strapped into her bed with a little, blue, plaid apron. She was miserable, and she begged me to let her run away.
A discharge planner called me to talk about hospice care for mom. I was heartbroken.
Husband and I met with a real estate agent to talk about selling our home in the Bay Area. We weren't really sure about moving yet - just exploring the possibilities. But, I knew deep down in my heart that we both needed something new, a change of pace. We simply couldn't figure out how to make it happen with mom being so sick.
I was still employed, but I was on medical leave to take care of my mom. I was supremely exhausted and sick - easily the worst shape that I have ever been in.
I was depressed and crying throughout the day. Still in shock from my sister's death, I couldn't fathom how my mom could pass away too. And I wasn't willing to let her go. I'd become a participant in her fight to live forever. Even after she had given up, I remained vigilant with doctors, meds, bandages, Neosporine, canned peaches....anything and everything to keep her alive. Dammit.
Thank Gawd I wasn't there when she passed away. She did it quietly and peacefully and with grace. All of the things that I lacked, because I was out of my mind crazy with grief.
Just over a year ago, we started packing up my sister's and mom's belongings so that their homes could be sold. Their long-standing phone numbers were disconnected. The items that they cherished were given to other family members or donated to a woman's shelter. All tangible pieces from their lives were dispersed and in some ways...erased. And I guess that is where we will all end-up. Existing in memories only until those people die too.
I was going to blog about my new life, the incredible newness that awaits us with each and every day. The fact that hope springs eternal, and all that we really need to do is hold on, hold out and wait for that new day to begin.
But the heaviness of last year has daunted me for the moment. I am still so sad, so sad, so sad. I miss my mom and sister and I just don't know how to reconcile it. I don't want to wax poetic about their impact on other people's lives or their goodness or yada yada yada. While all of it is true, it's a Imposter Salve. It supposedly makes everything feel better, but truly, deep down, it doesn't help. My sister and my mom are gone and I miss them and I will probably feel this way forever.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
I've been nonstop busy managing the details of an art competition for our HOA. We had about 65 kids sign up for the contest yesterday - ages 5 through 16+. Basically, I bought solid wooden eggs, drilled a hole in the bottom and inserted a 1/8" round dowell, which is inserted into a drilled hold in the wooden 3x3 base. So it looks like an egg sculpture. The kids can use any medium to decorate the egg - and we'll be awarding prizes and ribbons next week.
This is a little activity that Husband and I did during one of our Spring Parties in the Bay Area. It was a fairly big success...as far as personal, little garden parties go.
I've got tons of updates regarding Older Girl, but I'm trying to take a break from my worry and concern. I am scheduled to meet with a family law attorney in a couple of weeks.
Husband is helping me make a new display unit for my jewelry. I have completed my spring line of bracelets and earrings and need to deliver the pieces to one of my retail sites. Hope to have it all completed later today. Right now, it's time to rub the ochre stain over the silver paint so that the frame looks slightly aged. Then, I'll insert the corkboard that is covered in black velvet...and then hang the pieces with tiny, black pins.
I plan to spend the day at Big Lots and Cost Plus to purchase the prizes for the art contest. Footballs for boys, frisbees...just fun, summer toys. No Xboxes, and nothing with violent characters. I sure would like to find a few Slip 'n Slides. Remember those? We used to spend hours playing on it at my neighbor's hours. Drinking lots of grape Kool Aid and eating Pixi Stix. And this was my absolute favorite toy. Sort of scary, huh?
Monday, April 03, 2006
Why did I ever think that life was going to be Easy for awhile? The same 'ol issues keep resurfacing and I'm tired. Tired of imploring. Tired of of hoping. Tired of worrying. Just tired all the way around.
Sometimes I just want to go away and be alone. I'm tired of being responsible for other people.
Sometimes I just want to go away and be alone. I'm tired of being responsible for other people.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
The Crasher
My girlfriend brought a little green man along with her to our reunion...and I spent a significant amount of time placing and posing him everywhere we went. It turned out to be alot of fun.
The top photo is going into the thank you card to my friend's sister...who sent each of us a Heated Eyelash Curler. It's awesome! I threw away my craggy, old Squeezing Curler that invariably pinched my upper lids. I'm a convert from now until forever.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Howz this as a testament to my fitness level:
At 7:00am this morning, I sat at my desk and stretched my arms over my head as I yawned. Two things "snapped" in my neck and my entire left side went into rigor mortis. Except that there was a whole lot of pain. And I couldn't move. After a muscle relaxant, a hot shower and several crying fits, I am now able to function again. Hello?!! Message from the Universe: Get off your walrus-ass and start working out!
It occurs to me that I am suddenly overloaded:
At 7:00am this morning, I sat at my desk and stretched my arms over my head as I yawned. Two things "snapped" in my neck and my entire left side went into rigor mortis. Except that there was a whole lot of pain. And I couldn't move. After a muscle relaxant, a hot shower and several crying fits, I am now able to function again. Hello?!! Message from the Universe: Get off your walrus-ass and start working out!
It occurs to me that I am suddenly overloaded:
- Caretaking my father.
- A 15 year old teenager now living with us full time. And her bags are packed full with issues that are not her fault.
- Attending school for a masters and managing a surprisingly heavy homework load.
- Team Learning meetings at least once weekly plus two team projects to complete.
- Social activities planner/manager for the HOA.
- Neighborhood Watch Block Captain.
- Marketing Director freelance work for the company that employs my husband.
- Making and selling jewelry.
We met with our adoption counselor yesterday for about 3 hours. She's really nice and very professional. She walked around the house and didn't have much to say in terms of what we need to safeguard or fence. I guess she's just responsible for saying that we can provide an adequate home environment for the kids. Next, we go get fingerprinted so they can run a criminal background on us...including my dad and Older Girl. Best news of all: She didn't make a single comments about all of the cats or the furballs floating through the air in each and every room. Phew!
We are waiting to hear back on our final tax bill. We always, always get alot of money back but I'm afraid this year will be radically different. Hope I have enough in the nest egg to cover the amount. I've put off finalizing the paperwork because I'm worried....but my worry has increased tenfold because I don't know what we owe. Kids, here's a great example of why it's never, ever good to procrastinate on your taxes.
I'm craving deviled-eggs. Hugely. And I can't drive to the store to get them. Hopefully, Husband will come to the rescue.
I am fully aware that my writing quality has slipped several notches. I used to take the time to create a comprehensive and (hopefully) creative blog. Sadly, I ain't got time for none of that. (The grammar has slipped too.) Or more precisely, it's just not in me anymore. I read Jennifer's writing and Rachel's writing and think that I really need to spend more time on my quality. Then, I just blurt out my thoughts and let it go at that. I envy Circe's ability to be humorous. I don't have that. I don't even have the desire to make the blog creatively attractive like Alexa. No interest whatsoever. Used to be that I could snap a few cool photos and use those (though not as well as Nomad and Carmi), but my photos now consist of jewelry cataloging. Which is boring to everyone except me. So I apologize for being a bit raw lately. It's all I got at the present time.
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